I went into my texts, hit Azmir’s first and saw:
I just want you to know that when I called to invite you to dinner yesterday sex was not an ulterior motive…just your company. In the end I got that and more. I hope you have no regrets. Again I owe you.
My body heated and the beat of my heart accelerated as I marched through the airport to find my car service. He wouldn’t drop his gratitude. His expressions were thoughtful…but his constant mentioning of owing me didn’t sit well. I decided to reply right away.
Mr. Jacobs, I appreciate your clarification though it was not needed. We’re consenting adults and behaved responsibly. What concerns me is your second mention of owing me. It sounds very formal…and professional - as in escort service’esque. Here’s a little secret: you don’t owe someone you bestowed several orgasms upon in the span of a couple of hours. Have a good day and enjoy your time in the Big Apple. I hope your landing was as smooth as mine. ;-) I hit send and found my way to transportation where I located my driver. As soon as I hit the interior of the car, I called Michelle.
She was anxious to hear from me and of course wanted to know every blow-by-blow detail of my trip. I promised to give her the specifics later that evening after we attended Erin’s dance recital, something that had actually slipped my mind. It was on my calendar but my unscheduled jet-setting excursion knocked me off kilter.
What was odd was that for the first time in the course of my friendship with Michelle, I didn’t want to tell all of my intimate details concerning Azmir. Some things I wanted to keep to myself feeling they were personal shared experiences, that being with him in Arizona actually had meaning, far more than our first time. But I knew I couldn’t hold out too much from my best friend. She would never have it.
I was slowly regaining my wits on my ride to Long Beach City and when I hung up with Michelle, I decided to return the texts sent from Adrian and Jimmie. As blissful a mood I was in, the sentiment was challenged by the fact that Sebastian called. I felt revulsion in the pit of my stomach at the sight of his name. I checked the time and figured eight twenty a.m. was too early and eager to return his call. He’d have to wait until after my first cup of java to hear from me.
It was just before nine when I arrived at the practice. Sharon was at the front desk and wore an anxious expression as I ambled over to her.
“Good morning, Sharon. What’s wrong?”
“Did you finish up those reports yesterday?” Sharon’s eyes bulged with urgency.
“Nearly half, why?”
“Remember that new format coming down the pike from headquarters?” The higher ups were implementing a new spreadsheet program for our reporting. As with any change, it was unwelcome and dreaded by managers who had to learn a whole new system.
“Yes…”
“The latest quarterly reports must be submitted using the new software that you were trained on a few months ago. I got a call from Sandy yesterday, about an hour after you left. She was calling to see how you were faring with it because the Woodland Hills practice submitted theirs early and was nearly severed at the head because they were not in the new format. Jeffery Baker had them all prepared days early hoping to leave for Hawaii with his family for his anniversary. He had to cancel and they’re fighting against the clock now to have them correctly done by tomorrow’s deadline.”
Shit! This was just my luck. I was hoping to have the other half of my reports done on my lunch so that I could leave at a decent hour tonight to make Erin’s recital. I exhaled deeply accepting my fate.
“Okay, I’ll just have to work around the clock to have them completed.” My tone sounded of defeat. I enjoyed my job but the paperwork that came along with my manager’s role could be extremely taxing.
“Do you still have the application disk?”
“Yes, I downloaded it onto my desktop when we received training on it.”