Hidden Love by MINK

6

Georgia

Itap my foot as I ride the elevator up to my floor. It’s my second day, and I’m more nervous today than I was yesterday. Things have changed. I don’t just mean here at the office but inside of my body. Something seems to be wrong with me. The throb between my legs is unbearable at times. It goes away for a while, and then as soon as I start thinking about what happened in Mr. Baxter’s office, it comes back again. The sting of his hand still lingers on me, reminding me of the discipline he’d given me. I’m not even sure why I’d let him do it, but I do know that I enjoyed it, and that in itself confuses me.

“Meow.” Mr. Grumpy Pants lets it be known that he’s ready to escape my giant purse. I didn’t want to alert anyone that I was bringing him into the office so I’d left his carrier at home and opted to carry him here in my purse. I’d spent part of last night reading over the company's handbook. There’s nothing in there about pets or animals. Nor did I find anything about them in the documents Mr. Baxter gave me. He also never actually told me no when I asked about bringing my cat to work, so I’m pretty much working within a loophole here.

I’d stayed up way too late crafting a vest for Mr. Grumpy Pants that he actually seems to like. I was sure it was going to be a fight to get it on him, but he’s rocking it out. Not that I blame him. I used pink sparkly glitter to write out Therapy Cat on his cute little vest. He looks extra adorable and semi-professional at the same time.

You’re doing this to needle your boss, my mind whispers.

“Am not.” I would never do such a thing.

“Am not what?” The person in the elevator next to me asks.

“I’m sorry. I’m Georgia. I’d shake your hand but mine are full at the moment.” One hand has my bag with Mr. Grumpy Pants and the other is holding a bag filled with boxes of desserts I made. Yet another bag hangs from my arm. It’s full of things I want to put on my desk to liven it up.

“I’m Kurt. Let me help you.” He’s in one of those fancy suits like everyone else around here. I’m guessing he works in the building somewhere.

“That’s so nice of you.”

He takes the containers of cookies from me. Mrs. Wilson killed the brownies I made for her. I finally found her weakness. One grumpy butt down and one to go. My face heats thinking about my own butt. I can still feel his touch there. I’d felt it all night. I couldn't stop thinking about it. I’d even emailed my best friend, July, about what happened. She works with Doctors Without Borders as a nurse, and it’s often hard to get into contact with her, but I knew she’d have some kind of advice for me. Likely a joke about my pussy.

“You're on the top floor?” Kurt asks.

“Yep. I’m Mr. Baxter’s new PA.” I smile at him and try to stay positive about my boss to everyone. It bothers me that most seemed to be turned off by him. I know what it feels like to be the oddball. I don’t want that for anyone.

“That’s too bad.” He shakes his head. The elevator dings, and he gets off on my floor with me.

“Why is that too bad?” Is it because he spanks his assistants? I can’t bring myself to ask that. Kurt follows me toward the break room.

“He just goes through them rather quickly and you seem...” Again, like Sam the delivery guy, his eyes roam over me. “Sweet.”

“Thanks.” I think.

He laughs, setting down the containers for me.

“Not sure that’s a good thing if you’re working for Mr. Baxter.”

I open one of the boxes and offer him a cookie.

“I can’t but they look yummy.” Again his eyes roam over me like he’s talking about me and not the cookies. He pats his hard stomach, and I’m certain there’s a six-pack beneath the fabric. “Trying to keep these abs.”

“Kurt. Get off my fucking floor.” I jerk around to see Mr. Baxter standing in the doorway of the breakroom looking as handsome as ever. It’s early. I didn't expect him to be in. This isn’t when his schedule said he comes in. He must’ve changed things up, which may signal that I’m late. Normally, I’d be upset by this, but that throb between my legs seems to come back when I think about him disciplining me again.

“Hope to see you around, Georgia. It was a pleasure meeting you,” Kurt says before he exits the break room. He doesn’t even address Mr. Baxter before he leaves. Silence hangs in the room for a few moments after Kurt's departure.

I decide to break the ice. I paste on a big smile with the intention of offering him a cookie. Before I can open my mouth, the growl of a very mad but also very cute kitty comes from inside my purse.

Mr. Baxter’s eyes search around the room, looking for the origin of the sound. His eyes land on me, and I pray that Mr. Grumpy Pants stays quiet until I get back to my desk. This is not how I wanted my boss to find out about Baxter International’s newest employee.

“Cookie?” I offer.

I push the box toward him while taking a step back. Apparently, Mr. Grumpy Pants falls into the same category as the rest of the people around here that don’t have a fondness towards Mr. Baxter.

“Georgia.” He looks at the container of cookies. He doesn’t seem like a cookie person. I bet he loathes sprinkles. That helps cool some of these strange feelings I have toward him right now.

“I thought I was sunshine now?” He called me that yesterday in his office. I’d thought about it last night when I was lying in bed, trying to fix the throb between my thighs. But for once, Mr. Grumpy Pants decided he wanted to sleep with me, which killed any frisky efforts on my part.

“Do you just give your cookies to anyone, sunshine?”

“Well, yeah. I think it’s a nice way to . . .”

He picks up the cookie box, peers into the bag where the other cookies are, then takes it, too, before striding out of the break room. I’m left standing there. Did he just steal all the cookies?

“Follow me, Georgia.”

“Sunshine,” I correct him as I half run to try to keep up with him. Mr. Grumpy Pants lets out another loud meow. He doesn’t care for running. Whether it be him doing it himself or you carrying him and doing it. It’s a hard lazy limit for him.

Mr. Baxter stops and I almost run right into him. “You have a cat in your bag, don't you?” He stares down at me. I have to tilt my head all the way back to look up at him. Now is probably not the time to tell him that some of those cookies are for Kristen. You can’t steal cookies from a pregnant woman. There’s probably a rule about it in the mile-long employee handbook.

“Maybe.” I lick my bottom lip. Mr. Baxter’s eyes always go there when I do that. It’s a nervous habit I have. I wonder how he’s going to react to this. “I read the rule book and-“

“Of course you did.” He looks down at my bag that is now moving all around. My normally lazy cat can’t be still for once!

“Open the bag, Georgia.”

“Sunshine,” I correct. Oh my God. What is wrong with me? I’m poking him on purpose.

“Sunshine.” He does that growl thing that also does funny things to me. Then Mr. Grumpy Pants does one back. I fight to not laugh.

“Open. It.”

“Okay. You asked for it,” I warn as I open the bag to one extra grumpy Mr. Grumpy Pants.