The Boss(hole) by Penelope Bloom
Juliette
Ispent the rest of the flight wondering why nobody had ever invented a stronger word for embarrassment. There were gradients of disaster. There was a small disaster, otherwise known as an issue. Then there were problems, situations, calamities, and cataclysms. What happened in the bathroom was an apocalyptic level of embarrassment.
It was the kind of moment that left emotional scars. I was going to wake up in a cold sweat at random points in my life reliving that horrible series of events. Worse, I couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that my face had definitely collided with a very erect penis when I’d knelt down to pull up my skirt.
Why was Mr. White hard? And why did any human being need a penis that large? Sure, it’s possible that the turbulence, my fear of flying, my bare ass waving in the wind, or any combination of the three could’ve inflated my perception of how big it was. But it looked like the man stuffed a jumbo-sized zucchini in his pants. I still couldn’t believe I’d actually had my lips pressed directly on my bosses’ penis, even if it was through his slacks.
I decided this was how weird fetishes were born. I was absolutely soaked, and it was mortifying. It should’ve just been awkward, not awkwardly arousing.
Every time I’d discreetly glanced his way, he seemed unbothered. He just kept sitting there tapping away on his phone, sending emails and occasionally making calls. But he gave no sign that he’d just walked in on me with my underwear around my ankles and gotten a raging erection from the sight of it.
I survived the landing procedure with a little more seat clutching, breathing exercises, and without grabbing Mr. White’s hand this time. I had a feeling any physical contact was a very bad idea at the moment. Even if he seemed to give off a completely untouchable atmosphere, I had a growing, zucchini-sized certainty that he was was attracted to me. But none of that mattered. Mr. White was very clearly the type of man who didn’t mix business and pleasure.
Even if he did, it wasn’t like I would want to go down that road. Okay, maybe I’d like to go down that road, but I was smart enough to know it’d be a terrible idea. I guessed he was, too. I needed this job. More importantly, I didn’t need to get emotionally tangled up with a man who had a thunderbolt so far up his ass that his eyes were practically glowing.
Besides… What did you even do with a thing that size? I couldn’t exactly imagine it fitting, but that wasn’t stopping my stupid body from pressing every damn emergency hormone button at its disposal. I had a feeling I was going to be taking an extra-long shower when we got to New Orleans.
Mr. White barely spoke except to tell me to hurry up as we exited the airport. A driver was waiting for us in a luxurious, black SUV. We both climbed in, and Mr. White went straight back to work. The man never stopped.
I took his cue and pulled out my phone. I double checked the status of his luggage, which he’d asked to have sent straight to the hotel we were staying in. I flicked through a few emails that had come in within the last ten minutes or so—the man never stopped getting emails. So far, it seemed like he got something like three hundred per day, and Martha had tried her best to train me on his intricate priority level sorting system.
I was distracted by the view outside our car. I’d never been to New Orleans. Growing up as a Coleton meant I’d traveled the world, but it had been a whole lot of private jets to big cities like New York and Dubai and Tokyo. My father had never bothered to try to help me overcome my fear of flying. He simply had one of his doctors bring me enough sedatives to knock me out before the flight so he didn’t need to deal with my anxiety.
Between the sedatives and the access to private airports, we usually went straight to one of my father’s properties and spent all our time crammed into luxurious parties with billionaires and dignitaries.
New Orleans wasn’t the sort of place we would’ve ever come to, and something about it was energizing to me. I wanted to sneak away and walk the city—to stop by one of the street musicians and listen while I snacked on something from one of the food trucks I saw parked around various places.
We arrived at our hotel a short while later. I had to rush to follow Mr. White, who seemed to be in a great hurry as he entered the building and finally put his phone in his pocket.
“Mr. White?” I said, stopping him just inside. There were all sorts of well-dressed people moving about the lobby and getting checked in around us. It looked like he was looking for someone in particular. “I know you said nothing happened, but I wanted to apologize for the airplane. I don’t normally-”
“It’s nothing,” he said. “Forget it happened.”
I snapped my mouth closed. I felt like the awkwardness was still looming over me like a dark cloud, but he seemed like he really wanted to drop the issue. “Are you looking for someone?” I asked.
He pulled out his phone and typed out a quick text. “My sister.”
“Oh, the one with the phobias?”
He winced, as if he’d forgotten he told me that. “It would be best if you don’t speak about that to her. She’s a private person.”
I nodded.
A beautiful young woman with shoulder-length dark hair and gorgeous green eyes approached us. She was dressed professionally but with a flair of style I envied. She clearly shared a genetic pool with my bosshole, Chad Thundercock.
“Hi,” she said. “I’m Jordan.”
“Skip the introductions,” Mr. White said. “Jordan, take Jules to her room and make sure she can get on the hotel Wi-Fi. I need her ready to work within the half hour.”
Jordan gave me a wry, what can you do, sort of look, then motioned for me to follow her. When I looked back over my shoulder a little while later, I saw Mr. White talking to two tall, very attractive men. Apparently everybody we met on this trip was going to look like they just climbed out of a modeling catalog. Good to know.
“If you’re busy I could find the room on my own,” I said as we headed up the stairs to the second floor.
“Thanks, but Adrian would lose his shit if he knew I just let you roam off on your own.”
I cocked my head at her. “What? Why? Does he think I’m a twelve-year-old on a field trip?”
She hesitated. “Because he already seems to put quite a lot of value in the work you do.”
We moved through a long, carpeted hallway and passed a few more well-dressed people. I sensed Jordan was holding something back.
“Is something wrong?” I asked.
She stopped then, turning to face me. “You two aren’t sleeping together, are you?”
I pulled my head back. “Excuse me?”
She laughed softly, shaking her head. “I’m sorry. I’ve just never seen him quite this protective with an employee. He’s acting strange, and I thought if—well, yeah. I’m sorry I asked.”
My memory flipped back to our bathroom encounter and the handful of other belly clenching close-calls it felt like we’d already had. There really wasn’t any denying it, was there? When Mr. White and I were together, some sort of fiery energy crackled between us. At times, it just seemed like the clash of his abrasive personality with mine. But I was starting to wonder if it was more than that, and if his sister was this curious, maybe I wasn’t crazy to wonder.
“Has he said something?” I asked carefully.
“He tells me about all his new hires,” she said, continuing to walk and occasionally reference the number on the room card. “He must really respect what you bring to the table. It’s like I said, he doesn’t normally do more than grunt that he hired someone to me. It’s one of my jobs to get them settled in with the company and see that they have everything they need. But he took a personal interest in making sure I was going to do the things I always do. Annoying, really,” she added with a small laugh.
I smiled back, but my mind was picking over everything she’d told me, trying to figure out what it all meant.
“This is you,” she said, punching the room key in the slot above the door handle and waiting until a light flashed green. My luggage was already waiting beside the bed when we entered the room. Jordan looked around, her face once again flashing with confusion.
“Is something wrong with the room?”
“No, but this looks like an executive suite. It’s also right next door to my brother’s room.”
I shrugged. “He probably wanted a nice room for himself and wanted to be able to yell at me through the walls for convenience.”
Jordan smiled. She had a beautiful smile, and I found myself envying her again. Some people really had all the luck. “It sounds like you already know him pretty well.”
I guiltily thought back to pressing my mouth into his erection while my bare ass was stuck out behind me. “Yep,” I said. “We’re getting to know each other pretty fast.”
“Well, let’s get this laptop set up.”
I waited patiently while Jordan got my computer online, then thanked her and watched her go.
I knew I should immediately dive into my email to see what Mr. White needed me to do, but I took a moment to walk to the window and look out over New Orleans. It wasn’t the prettiest city I’d ever seen on the surface. But something about it charmed me. I could see a group of friends on the street below walking arm in arm, laughing about something and clearly a little drunk even though it was the middle of the day.
It was a shame that I was going to be stuffed in my room working for the whole trip here. With a sigh, I cracked open my laptop and looked at my email. Naturally, I had a dozen new messages and one personally sent to me from Mr. White.
To: Jules Adams
From: Adrian White
Subject: Before You Sleep
Miss Adams,
We’re leaving for the Coleton Enterprises conference first thing tomorrow morning. I’m giving a presentation at 11 A.M. Several very important board members and executives at Coleton will be watching. It’s critical that the presentation goes well.
I’ve attached a copy of the slides and resources I’ll be covering. There is a separate document explaining exactly when to transition slides and when to shut off the presentation. I expect you to memorize these like your life depends on it.
We’ll meet for breakfast in the morning, and I’ll make sure you’re prepared. I’ll provide you with the rest of your tasks for tomorrow.
See you then, Miss Adams.
Adrian White
I lookedat what time it was. Nearly midnight. This asshole wanted me to study his presentation, memorize verbal cues for switching slides, and wake up “first thing in the morning”?
I rubbed my eyes. Maybe I just needed some coffee. I looked around the room but didn’t find a coffeemaker, so I opened a menu beside my bed and found a list of room service items. I called in for two large cups of coffee and got myself set up at the little desk in my room.
It wasn’t the first time I wondered if Mr. White was deliberately testing me. No sane man could honestly expect all the things he was asking of me. And yet I knew I could do it. Worse, some screwed up part of me reveled in the opportunity to prove I could do something he probably thought I couldn’t.
The coffee helped a little, and after two hours, I’d made myself a few notecards as cheat sheets so I’d know when to switch the slides. I’d also done my best to scan the contents of the presentation, even if I didn’t understand why I would need to know what he was talking about, I wanted to make sure I could’ve given the presentation myself if I had to.
When I drained the last of my coffee, I shivered and looked around for a jacket. My room had been gradually going from drafty to downright freezing. I threw on a coat, walked over to the heater, and tried to crank it up. It made a mechanical thumping noise, shook around a little, then whined and shut off.
“Come on,” I muttered, giving it a kick. Nothing happened.
It was a little past two in the morning and I didn’t know how early “first thing in the morning” was in Mr. White’s eyes. I was going to assume five, because you had to be insane to wake up any earlier than that.
I set my alarm, grimaced when I saw I had less than four hours to sleep before what was probably going to be a very long day, and got in bed. Even though I was dead tired, I couldn’t sleep. I was shivering, and it felt like my room was getting colder by the minute.
I eventually got up, dug through the bathroom, and found a hair dryer. I plugged it in beside my bed and started running it on its hottest setting. I blasted my feet, my neck, and my hands.
The heat felt so good that I slid off my pajamas and let it run against my bare skin, breathing out a sigh of relief as I felt the blood flow return to my body. Once I’d mostly warmed up, I wrapped the comforter around myself and tucked the hair dryer under the blankets with me, filling the whole space with deliciously warm air.
I figured it was probably a fire hazard to run a hair dryer for as long as I’d been, but I couldn’t bring myself to shut it off. I decided I’d just give it a couple more minutes, then I’d hopefully have enough warmth to get me through the night.
I yawned, rolled to the side, and fell straight to sleep.