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Only three days left to complete my article and prove to Kirsty and Grace that I can manage my job well without their help.
Only three days left with these men, and then I have to walk away.
I take my computer, phone and notepad, and head down to grab some coffee and find a quiet spot to write. I find a small wooden table flanked by two matching chairs under a pergola by the gate to the beach. The fence is cut away next to it and covered with an area of latticed wood to allow the view of the water to be appreciated. It's the perfect spot to think, the perfect spot to grasp the size of the world and put everything else into perspective. I set up my computer and stare out at the ocean, inhaling a deep breath to try to center my thoughts.
But everything I talked about with Russell last night is still there.
I must have been half asleep when I admitted that I'd choose to stay here if it was an option. I hadn't even admitted that part to myself. I must have been half-crazed from the dream or drunk on the scent of his skin. That's the only thing that could explain such stupidity and naivety. Of course, that isn't an option. Russell must have run off after we fooled around together because he realized I sounded crazy. I'm chewing the end of my pen, trying to figure out how to continue with the article I've already started drafting when my phone rings and Kirsty's name pops up on the screen. I'm so nervous, I drop it and nearly knock over the mug of coffee I've made.
"Oh, hi. Hi."
"Hi, Allie." She sounds a bit surprised by my response. "Is everything okay?"
"Yes. Sorry. I was just thinking, and you scared the shit out of me."
"Thinking? Or writing?"
"Thinking and writing."
She laughs, but it sounds strained. "Did something happen yesterday with Grace?"
Oh shit. I grab the edge of the table, needing to ground myself. "No. Why?"
"Well, I expected her to hang out with you all day after traveling so far. But she said she didn't stay long."
"She didn't." I pause, searching for what to say next. "There was really no need for her to come all this way."
"You seemed flustered when I was there with Jonathan. Even he said it. I thought Grace could help you get things under control."
"Everything is definitely under control."
"Really?" Her voice sounds high, as though she's struggling to hide her emotions. "Grace said you seemed overwhelmed by the group."
Of all the things Grace could have said about what she saw, me being overwhelmed isn't one of them. Maybe she was worried that Jonas's cock was too much for me, I think wryly, and snort before I consider how inappropriate that would sound on a business call.
"Something on your mind?" Kirsty asks.
"I'm definitely not overwhelmed. I'm handling everything like a pro." I have to bite my lip while I wait for her reply.
"I want to see something today. And I'm going to send you the photographer's images. They look great."
"You'll get something today. A draft. But I still have more interviewing to do." Oliver, my mind whispers. Oliver then Russell, without any restrictions. The awareness I feel between my legs is both exciting and frustrating. Exciting because I know that any urges I feel today can be satisfied. Frustrating because I know that once I leave this house, I'm on my own again.
At least I'll have the memories to remember them by.
But I can't keep ten huge purple cocks in my closet. What happens if I get run over and my parents need to clean out my things?
Why the hell do you care what your parents find in your closet after you're dead?So, let them think you're a kinky freak with a size fetish.
"Allie."
"Yes."
"I said, let me know which of the photos you think will work best for the cover and to complement the article."
"I will."
Kirsty doesn't bother to say goodbye. She rarely does. Too busy for niceties. She probably learned that withholding goodbyes makes a person appear more in control at a 'how to be a bitch in business' conference. I vow never to be that person, no matter how far up the ladder I climb.
