Page 87 of My Boss

“I was not wrong about you. This was the best sex of my life,” he says, then straightens up and slaps me on the rear. “You wore me out. I need to lie down.”

I smile with satisfaction that I’ve tired Jan out so effectively, and although I’m just as exhausted as he is, I feel such euphoria that I could start dancing now. I move to the middle of the bed, while Jan reaches into a drawer for something and lies down next to me.

“Take this.” He pulls out a pair of moisturizing wipes from a small package and hands them to me.

Well, yes, I could expect that from him.

“Do you keep antibacterial gel around here somewhere, too?”

“In the second drawer, on the opposite side of the bed. Can you get it?” he says quite seriously and wipes his penis meticulously.

Oh brother, what cheekiness. Just what you expect from Jan.

“It was a joke.”

“What?” He glances at me with semi-conscious eyes.

He really looks tired. In fact, he moved around quite a bit today or fucked around, call it what you will.

“Nothing. I guess I have to get used to the fact that you have a poor sense of humor.”

“Does it bother you?”

“A little. I like when things are funny, some wordplays, that sort of thing.” I wipe off the remnants of cum from the inside of my thighs, and make a sweeping move to throw the handkerchief on the floor.

Jan grabs my wrist. “Give it to me.” He takes it from my hands.

“I’ll clean it up later.”

“I’ll take care of it,” he says. He hides the tissue, along with the ones he used, in an empty package (he used probably ten of them), carefully closes the built-in plastic flap, and puts the box on the floor.

“You are terribly fussy, you know?” I laugh.

“I know. I don’t like clutter.” He puts his hands under his head.

His biceps just above his armpits tense up, and his chest extends, revealing the side line of his ribs. Zero fat, just skin and muscle. Seemingly old, but still spry. Come to me, my neatnik man. I move over to snuggle into his chest, I wrap my arms around his waist, and he flinches as if electrocuted.

I lift my gaze. Jan looks at me with his eyebrows furrowed, with exactly the same eyes as when I wanted to kiss him at the threshold of the room.

“You don’t want to?” I ask and back away slowly.

“What?”

“Me to hug you.” I observe his expression, and I begin to feel like an intruder in his bed. “You’re looking at me again like that… like you’re disgusted with me.”

He closes his eyes.

“Maria…”

“What?”

Jan inhales through his nose and lets it out hard.

“I am tired. If you feel like it, you can hug me.”

If I feel like it?

“I take it you don’t feel like it?”

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