Cake Love: All Things Payne

"Did I ... uh ... force you to do that, Ms. Drake?" Mr. Payne looks at his clasped hands and I can see the beads of sweat rolling down his forehead.

"No." I shake my head and he lets out a very loud breath. We are quiet for a moment and I keep my eyes on my undies hoping I get them back. I wasn't kidding when I said they aren't cheap.

"So you wanted me to do that ... um ... never mind. I'm sorry that it occurred, Ms. Drake."

"I'm not." I mumble under my breath and look away. My heart has long since stopped beating rapidly and is now pained. I'm disappointed and pissed off right now. Disappointed that this won't happen again and angry he views it as a terrible mistake.

Despite all the horrible things people say about him I feel it's all in perspective. He's a ballbuster/vagina smasher; therefore he is a hard worker and expects those around him to work just as hard. As for not having a life, well, I don't have a life either. I put so much time into work and my career; I don't have time for a social life like a normal twenty-nine year old. If anything all the accusations about him being a terrible person makes me like him even more.

But as much as I like Henrik, I'm angry with him right now. Sure he's worrying about his job, so am I but that doesn't stop me from being human. Also, I'm horny. So there is that.

"What did you say, Ms. Drake?"

"Me too, Mr. Payne. I'm real sorry too." If you can't tell I am being sarcastic right there, though I doubt Mister Sorry Pants notices.

"Okay, well I think we have both had a long day, Ms. Drake. Let me take you home. I'll have my driver pull up the car."

Oooh! Chauffeured vehicle, yes please! This almost makes up for it. Almost. Only if there is a slice of cake waiting in the car will that appease everything.

He gets dressed and calls his driver to make arrangements. Once we are in the elevator the awkwardness begins. There is a silence between us that is claustrophobic. I want to crawl at his clothes and rip them away, but at the same time smack him in the face for being such an ass. I also want to hit myself upside the head with a baseball bat for fooling around with him in the first place. What was I thinking?

A black Lincoln Town Car pulls up to the curb and a man in a black suit hops out of the driver's seat. He races around to open the back passenger door and nods at Mr. Payne in acknowledgment while keeping his eyes fixated on the distance. The driver is well-built and has a brown beard sprinkled with gray.

Mr. Payne doesn't nod back but stands to the side as his hand slices the air informing me to go first.

Once we are inside I slide to the end of the seat and begin to buckle myself in. There is a comfort from the safety strap. Due to my mom's constant insistence growing up for me to always wear my safety belt, I now don't feel comfortable until me and everyone in the vehicle is strapped in.

Mr. Payne enters and settles into his seat beside me.

"Buckle up." I tell him and he glances at me in confusion before realizing what I am referring to. After he adjusts his seat belt we are off. After ten minutes of silence and a few times where he turns to me about to say something but doesn't, we arrive in front of my apartment building. It occurs to me I never told him my address, but I shrug it off as something he must have on file at work.

His door opens and I unbuckle my seat belt. As I proceed to crawl past him I feel his hand on my thigh for only a moment before I am out of the car. That slight graze of my skin sends electricity pulsing to my core. Just as I turn to look at him I see the driver shut the door.

After a few moments I watch from the sidewalk as the car pulls away from the curb. I stand there confused and cold. Finally I walk over to the steps that lead to the lobby of my building when I realize why I am so cold. Mr. Payne still has my panties.





Chapter 10 - THE New Year ...

Happy New Year! It has been a few weeks since the panty incident at the holiday party and I haven't seen Mr. Payne once. You might think this gives me great relief, but no it's only made things worse. Currently I am working with the sales team on the eighteenth floor. Everyone on this floor is loud and likes to joke around. So, basically it's like hanging out with a bunch of frat boys with some sorority chicks thrown in for equality sake. They have happy hour every day after work and everyone goes. Well, everyone but me.

This is the part where my life is worse. They give me the grunt work. All the files and paperwork that isn't finished by five o'clock, has to be done by me so they can go off and party. I usually don't get done until the earliest eight at night. Oh, and the best part is anytime something has to be hand delivered to Mr. Payne up on the twenty-eighth floor, I am expected to do it. I am his assistant after all.

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