Page 80 of Don't Leave Me

He held out his hand for me. “Come on then. Let me give you a thorough cleaning,” he declared.

I almost jumped with excitement as I took his hand. “Yes, sir.”

I was practically bouncing up and down on the train ride to work. Michael had given me the perfect “cleaning” (him basically teasing me in the bath until I begged for him) which put me in a great mood and I was feeling even more speedy than I was earlier. Michael seemed amused as I giggled at every dry remark he made, gazing at me intently as I mused on about how inspired I was by re-reading a memoir about someone with bipolar disorder and how I wanted to start writing a memoir myself. By the time we got to work, I realized that I had talked basically the whole time and had almost (almost) forgotten about the text on Michael’s phone from earlier. As we headed up to our floor, only me and Michael in the elevator, I tried to resist every urge in me to mention the text to him. I knew it would just start an argument and everything was going so well that I didn’t want to risk it.

“Hana,” I heard Michael as the elevator doors pinged open.

I looked up at him and realized he was staring at me with confusion.

“Did you not hear me?” he asked with concern.

I shook my head, showing the same concern.I need to stop getting lost in my own thoughts.

“I asked if you’re alright,” he questioned as we walked out to reception.

Oh. “Yeah,” I smiled at him with reassurance.

He didn’t look convinced but he let it go as we walked into the office, all eyes on us as usual.

“Get to work,” Michael whispered to me as he patted me quickly and discreetly on my ass and then walked into his office.

I giggled as I walked to my desk with my head held up high, feeling Cassie’s glare on me like it was fire. I ignored her as I opened up my Macbook and began to type incessantly, my mind suddenly focused on one thing – starting my memoir.I don’t even need to be at work; I’ve already finished all of my articles and book reviews. I wouldn’t even be here if Michael wasn’t my boss. I don’t even need this job. I should just start writing full-time. My life is interesting and I don’t need this boring office job!

I began to write a foggy-memory version of my life starting with my childhood and how I would stay up all night under my covers with a flashlight while I recitedRomeo and Juliet; how Emily and I would sneak up to the roof of my house and watch the sunrise; how I would obsessively sit for days finishing a 3,000 piece puzzle and would go into a crying fit once my parents dragged me away from it. Just, you know, like any other normal 8 year-old.

Time went by both extremely fast and extremely slow while I wrote. My fingers typed on quickly and endlessly, and while it felt like an hour had passed, I realized it was only 5 minutes. And then I would get lost in my thoughts, trying to piece together memories and having ideas fly by in my brain, only to look at the clock and two hours had passed. By the time it was lunch, I was mentally exhausted but I had so much physical energy that I wanted to get out of the office. I jumped up and knocked on Michael’s door, opening it up and finding Michael on his phone, looking back at me with widened eyes. I closed the door behind me and felt suspicious, like he was hiding something from me.

“Right. Thanks very much,” he said quickly and hung up, then diverted his attention to me.

“Who was that?” I asked curiously, fidgeting with my hands.

“Business stuff,” he shrugged, setting down his phone. “How are you feeling?”

Why am I feeling so suspicious?“I’m fine. Good,” I nodded. “Do you want to go out to lunch? Or maybe to the apartment?” I suggested with a smile, wanting to expel all of this energy I had in any way possible.

I could tell he was excited about my proposition as he smiled and licked his lower lip.

“Let’s take a quick trip home,” he said lustfully, standing up and taking my hand.

I was suddenly giddy. We walked out of his office, hand in hand, and I held my head up high as Michael led us to my desk, grabbed my coat, and started for the elevators; everyone in the office was staring at us, and I couldn’t help but grin boastfully.

* * *

“Why don’t you go take the rest of the day off and go to Emily’s?” Michael suggested as we got dressed after an adventurous half-hour of playtime.

He keeps getting nicer and sweeter as the day progresses. Instead of questioning it, I happily accepted it.

“Okay,” I nodded enthusiastically.

“Okay,” he repeated with a smile, then gave me a kiss on the forehead.

“Are you going back to work?” I questioned, zipping up the back of my boots.

He glanced at me with confusion. “Yes. Where else would I go?”

I scrounged for an answer as I laughed and shrugged. “I don’t know.”

I tried to give my best ‘blonde moment’ eyes; Michael didn’t seem convinced. He stared at me intently as he pulled his jeans up, looking concerned.

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