He’s not my boss. “She’s sick spewing all her germs all over the office. She needs to go home. I can’t afford to get sick.”
That last part is true. The rest I said to save face. Jeff leaves shaking his head and I get back to work. The Sadlers want a five-year plan of how we can invest their money to get them the greatest return. The husband is more conservative than the wife. She, however, is the one with the family money. We are competing with one of the big nationwide firms. I have to prove that going local and having a relationship is better than calling and talking to a nameless person anytime they need to discuss their accounts.
“How’s it going?”
My sleeves are rolled up because I’ve been at it all day. I glance up from my desk and see Dad in my doorway.
“Good. I think I have the right mix,” I say confidently.
“Can you present it to me in the conference room?”
I nod. “Give me five.”
An hour later, I leave with my father’s approval. Jeff and Mark are waiting for me in my office.
“You look like you need a drink,” Jeff says.
“Or get laid? What happened to Karen?” Mark asks.
I grab my jacket. “Let’s get a drink.” I avoid the Karen question.
Somehow she’d wormed her way into my life and acted like a girlfriend. How had I let that happen?
“You guys going out?”
We turn and find several of our female co-workers standing around. Jeff is quick to answer. “Yeah, sure.”
We walk to a bar not too far from the office. Jeff is not very discriminating and spends most of his time hitting on anything that moves. His taste is female; shape and size don’t matter.
“I think I’m going to head home.” I’ve had several drinks and although I’m not drunk, I do feel a slight buzz.
“Wait, Lisa is into you, man. I’m telling you she’s a sure thing.”
Lisa is cute and the one who asked to come along. “I don’t screw women I work with.” I’m firm on that. The last thing I need is for some female to be pissed and be able to show me her displeasure every day.
I wave everyone goodbye and see Lisa poke her lip out. My dick needs service, but I’m not that desperate.
When I make it home, I have a visitor waiting.
“Karen,” I say.
“Ben. I think I left my earrings here.”
I sigh, not wanting to be a prick. “Okay.”
She doesn’t bring up the hundred and one text messages she’s sent over the past week and neither do I. I unlock the door and almost put my keys in the bowl when I shove them in my pocket instead.
“Where do you think you left them?”
When I turn around, I find her naked from the waist up, dangling her top from her finger. There is no time to react before she’s on me.
“Ben, we are so good together.”
As much as I don’t want Karen, my body reacts remembering what it was like to be inside her. The alcohol flowing in my veins convinces me it wasn’t all bad when we were together. And I haven’t gotten laid in what amounts to a long time for me, which explains why I’m succumbing to her come on.
“Karen—”
Her lips are on mine and her hand grips my cock through my pants. I groan, because that’s all it takes to go from zero to a hard on.
Samantha’s face flashes in my head for a second, which only adds fuel to my sex-starved dick. But I hardly know her and she doesn’t seem like she’s going to let me touch her any time soon. So what the hell? And if I make Karen leave, I’ll be forced to remember how lonely this house feels sometimes. And I don’t want that. I need the distraction. I need to forget if only for this night. The alcohol and Karen win.
I wake the next morning with a warm body at my back and regret sucker punching my gut. Fuck. Why the hell did I do that?
“Hey, you need to go.”
“Huh?” Karen murmurs.
“I’ve got to get to work and you need to leave.”
“But—”
“You came here for a fuck and you got one. Now it’s time for you to go. And do me a favor – stop texting me. And stop running to my mom and crying on her shoulder. This isn’t her business.”
Her mouth drops. “You—”
I shake my head. “When I get out of the shower, I want you gone.”
My pants are on the floor and I scoop them up. My keys are still inside and I hope like hell she isn’t the crazy type to carry a bar of soap or some modeling clay in her purse to make a mold of them, but I’m not taking any chances.