Page 42 of Meet Stan

“I only meant she sounded wise.”

“Grandma is wise,” My father said, putting his arm around her. “Now, let’s all back up and give poor Ivy some space to breathe. I’m sure she’ll tell us all about her new boyfriend whenever she’s ready.”

He gave me a wink, and I gave him a relieved smile. My fake boyfriend had just entered my off-work life, and I wasn’t sure what to make of it.

All I knew was, there would be a lot of disappointed people in my family when the fake relationship ended. I’d been only thinking of myself getting hurt the whole time. The fact that my family was getting dragged into the mess and caught in the crossfire didn’t sit well with me.

It didn’t sit well at all.

Chapter Seventeen

Ivy

The sun rose as a cheerful yellow blob, shining down its heavenly grace on the city. I wanted to be free to enjoy the gorgeous morning, but my inner turmoil wouldn’t let me.

All the things my family had said at dinner the other night stirred up a lot of emotions for me. I had, on some level, accepted that I wasn’t just in danger of getting the feels anymore. I already had the feels, and I strongly suspected—or perhaps just wished—that Stan felt the same.

Now I had to ask him to my family’s dinner to maintain the ruse. I figured he would probably say yes. It would make us look all the more convincing if he had dinner with my folks. At the very least, I knew he treated that like a priority.

I laid out my clothes for the day, deciding I wanted to look alluring. I almost never dress that way at the office. I paired a taupe and charcoal-hued blazer with a pencil skirt and stockings. I imagined myself sitting on Stan’s desk, and the way he might be able to see the lacy tops of the stockings and what that might lead to.

My smile faded. This was part of the problem. Trying to treat the relationship like it was real. I didn’t feel bad about inviting him to my family’s dinner. At least, I told myself that I didn’t feel bad. Our fake relationship had benefited him at work, why shouldn’t it benefit me at home by proxy?

I powered through my morning, hoping to catch Stan around lunch to make my pitch. I wondered why I felt so invested in what his answer might turn out to be. It was a fake relationship after all.

Meeting the folks was a big deal. It was supposed to be, anyway. Here he was about to meet up with my huge, smothering Brooklyn family, and I didn’t know much about his family at all. I’d asked a couple of times, but he’d never really answered.

I resolved to change that as soon as possible. But only after I’d asked my favor. The last thing I wanted to do was to start a fight.

I finished up my work about a quarter until noon and walked down the hall to Stan’s office. I caught him on a phone call. He smiled as I entered and waved me in. His eyes moved up and down my body as I sauntered up to his desk. I enjoyed the way he stared at me, his eyes filled with desire.

“Of course I’ve crunched the numbers. Jonathon,” he said. “I’m telling you, there’s no way in hell the Saints are beating the spread. They haven’t in fifteen years. That’s a decade and a half, man.”

So, he wasn’t on a business call at all. I figured that gave me free rein to fuck with him. I perched my bottom on the edge of his desk and smiled down at him. My fingers toyed with his necktie, flipping it around and smoothing away nonexistent wrinkles.

“Yeah, you’d better believe I’m not betting on them to beat it this year.” His eyes remained locked on my legs. I scooted over and spread my thighs, flashing him a shot of my panties.

His eyes nearly bulged out of his head.

“If you say so, but the last time I, um, the last time I invested my hopes in the Dolphins I was… just devastated.” His gaze was locked between my legs. “Totally devastated.”

I slipped off the desk, allowing the edge to draw up the hem of my skirt. I shook my bottom a little, showing off my lace thong, and then got down on my knees and clambered under his glass desk.

“Yeah, I think it’s a big deal,” Stan said as I mouthed his cock through his trousers while my hands fumbled with his belt buckle. “A real, real big… deal.”

The phone slipped away from his ear enough I could hear Jonathon’s voice more clearly.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Are you getting your cock wet or something?”

I chuckled as Stan’s face turned beet red.

“Haha, mother fucker, you’re hilarious. Listen, I’ve got to go, my lunch is here.”

He ended the call and stared down through the glass table at me as I maneuvered his hardening rod out of his boxers.

“You’re a miscreant,” he said with a grin.

“You can always punish me for it later,” I purred. I made eye contact and then ran my tongue up the underside of his veined, throbbing member. He grew ever harder as I worked my way to the very tip.

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