Page 56 of The Producer: Aaron

“Are you firing me?” She raises an eyebrow in challenge.

“No, I’m just telling you to do your job. You are not my friend, and neither are you my therapist. My personal relationships are none of your business. I don’t have to be here to explain what binds me to Dakota, and above all, you don’t get to take liberty to judge my relationship with her. On what planet is it okay to tell a person that he has a midlife crisis and that his partner’s intentions are not serious? You don’t know anything about me, and you certainly don’t know anything about Dakota. Never take the liberty to judge again. I have never told you how to do your job, and I have always appreciated your frankness, but remember that I am still your boss,” I tell her, getting up from the sofa and walking out of the office.

It’s the first time since she came to work for me seven years ago that we have fought like this and I can see she’s torn on what to do. I can read on her face that she doesn’t believe this relationship will last, and the mere sight of her lack of confidence bothers me.

“Aaron, please sit down,” she pleads when she sees this situation is getting out of hand.

I freeze in the doorway to listen, but I don’t sit down.

“I didn’t want to disrespect you, but this news caught me off guard. You’ve never exposed yourself so publicly defending someone you’re having fun with and you have never confirmed any of the gossip around your private life.”

“This is because there has never been anything to confirm. I’ve never had a woman so important to me, I had to give explanations,” I answer indignantly.

“So? Should I treat this like a long-term relationship?” Hervoice is stern. I’m pretty sure she is offended. We have never had such a heated discussion.

“Dakota is my partner, girlfriend… call her what you want, but that doesn’t change the situation.” I leave the room, slamming the door behind me and letting the anger flow through my veins like a corrosive acid.

The rest of the day goes by with me growling orders to anyone in hearing range. I am so insufferable that even Tracy has decided to avoid me and only sends me emails to which I respond poorly. I know I should separate my work from my private life, but Sharon’s words irritate me greatly because they dig into my insecurities. I know Dakota is young, and I know those outside our relationship won’t understand why I’m attracted to her. But I know she is much more mature than many women my age. It annoys me that people around me can’t see it, and they belittle this relationship.

When I finally go home, I hear noises coming from the kitchen. It’s the only moment when the smile returns sincerely to my lips. I enter the living room and see Dakota leaning on the counter in the kitchen, focused on following the instructions of a recipe on her iPad. The guy’s voice is telling her exactly what to do, and her mouth is frowning in concentration. Her hair is gathered in a high ponytail, and she’s wearing a yellow summer dress with red spots that I think are tomatoes on the front.

When she notices my presence, she returns my smile.

“I swear this time I didn’t burn anything. I prepared a salad and some croutons that I put in the toaster. Your kitchen is safe.” She raises her hands and gestures to show me everything is as I left it.

Nobody ever thought of preparing dinner for me unless they were paid to do so. And that’s precisely why Sharon’s words slipinto the background of my mind because she is not here now to see the woman in front of me preparing dinner for the two of us like a real couple.

“You know you can burn my kitchen as often as you want if you like it, don’t you?” I whisper in her ear while I squeeze her from behind and slip my hands under her skirt to pull off her panties.

“I bought these too, today, while I was shopping,” she tells me, showing me a box of condoms on the counter next to a box of fruit.

“I like when you think about our primary needs: food and sex,” I whisper, biting her lobe.

She moves the salad bowl in front of her, pushing it against the iPad and the recipe she has forgotten before she leans against my chest, reaching out a hand to slip it into my hair. A shiver runs down my back as she rests her head on my shoulder and closes her eyes when I slide the dress’s strap along her shoulder, freeing a breast. I squeeze it in my hand and tease her nipple, enjoying the moans that slip from her lips.

“Aaron,” she whispers my name as a prayer, and my erection presses against the fabric of my pants.

“Tell me, Dakota, why did you stop preparing dinner?” I whisper with a smile as I unbutton my pants and let them fall down to the middle of my thigh along with my boxers.

I slide my erection against her buttocks and enjoy the sublime feeling of her smooth skin against mine, so warm and sensitive I could come without even sinking into her.

“Do you want me to prepare dinner?” she asks. The vein of seriousness in her voice comes out choked by moans as I kiss her neck.

“You could become my dinner, what do you say?” I whisper asI push her to bend over the kitchen counter with one hand. She looks at me from over her shoulder and smiles, biting her lip.

I enjoy her lusting gaze as I kneel behind her, lift her dress, and uncover her butt. The perfect shape of her buttocks is a vision that makes me stop thinking. I grab her flesh and squeeze it between my fingers, tearing a moan from her throat when my mouth moves between her folds. I lick slowly, savoring every shudder.

“Aaron,” she groans when I suck her swollen clit.

“What? Do you want to say something?” I tease, biting her buttock.

Incoherent moans come from her lips when I sink my tongue into her, savoring the pleasure that wets her between her thighs. I would like to tease her, torture her a little bit until she comes, but this is torture for me too. My erection is so stiff it almost hurts.

With a slow gesture, I slip my tongue along her entire length, from the clitoris to the narrow opening of her butt. I feel her holding her breath as I linger where I have never yet entered.

“Not tonight, but sooner or later, this will also be mine,” I promise her before passing my tongue one last time over her butt and descending again toward her warm folds.

I lick again on that little bundle of nerves I neglected, and a groan comes out of her chest when I begin to suck hard, sinking a couple of fingers into her. The scream that comes out of her chest when her orgasm shakes her to the tips of her toes is a sound so animalistic that it almost makes me come. I continue to fuck her with my fingers until she rides the waves of pleasure that hit her, leaving her breathless, lying on the counter.

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