Page 39 of The Billionaire's Wake-up-call Girl

“You think you’re all that, and you’re not,” I say as I rinse off with the sprayer, directing the warm, deliciously pulsing jet of water around my body, washing the shampoo and soap away.

Mr. Drummond doesn’t get to be in my head, directing my fingers. I can direct my own fingers, thank you very much.

Furthermore, if I want to masturbate, I’ll do so without his voice in my ears. Without picturing his chocolatey dark hair. Without imagining the storm-cloud sparkle of his eyes on my bare skin. Without imagining his thick, manly fingers calming the ache between my legs.

The edge of the warm spray is like a soft pulsing laser on my sex. I aim it right on my clit, moving it just so. Uhhhh so good.

Wait, what?

Shit.

But now that I started, I have to do it! How will I concentrate on the Instagram strategy? That’s the thing I tell myself as I enter the land of no return in two seconds flat. I come so hard, I nearly fall over and crack my head open.

With shaking hands, I put the sprayer back in its holder. Take that, Mr. Drummond!

Thirteen

Lizzie

I arriveat 7:30 sharp in drab dress number one. “Good morning, Betsy,” I say.

“Hi, Lizzie,” she says, and then she kind of winces and adds, “Sasha wants to see you ASAP.”

Gulp.

I tromp down cubicle row. Did I go too far? Did Mr. Drummond finally complain about the wake-up service? But what’s he going to say?I tried to get the wake-up-call girl to masturbate, but she hung up on me before her orgasm!But then, why does Mr. Drummond do anything he does?

I smile nervously and approach Sasha’s immaculate desk. “You wanted to see me?”

She looks up. “IT needs a new site map for our meeting today. Will you put together complete packets with the current map, top-level-page printouts, and our overview goals? All recent edits, PDF and hard copies, five each. Betsy will show you how to tab them up.”

“Of course.” I nod enthusiastically. I nod and nod. I’m a bobblehead of relief.

She waves me off, and I walk to my desk feeling like I just won a death sentence appeal. Because if Mr. Drummond was going to complain, he wouldn’t wait around. He’d get right on it. He’s ruthlessly efficient that way.

I put together the files in under an hour, collecting every edit into one place. I zip them up and send them to print. I grab them from the printer and bring them to Betsy. “We’re supposed to tab these up?” I say. Because I actually don’t know what that means.

“Ah.” She grabs a few boxes full of colorful tabs from a nearby shelving unit. We discuss what the different colors should represent, then we create a two-person assembly line, tabbing and collating.

We chat aboutThe Bachelorand exchange theories on our most hated contestant, keeping our voices low, lest somebody hears our jubilation and issues a demerit.

People head in and out of the department while we complete our task. It’s nothing special that people come in and out. The door opens frequently, and I don’t bother to look over my shoulder.

Until the time that I do.

I don’t know why I feel compelled to turn and look at the very moment he comes through. The woo-woo answer would be that some strange force field is connecting us because of our weird phone call, like I still feel him inside me.

The more logical explanation is that he’s just louder than everyone else. That he practically smashes open the door, entitled jackass that he is.

You will give me what I want.

His eyes rivet instantly to mine as he crosses the threshold, and suddenly I’m back in bed, snuggled under the covers, saying things to him I’ve never said to any man.

I swallow.

He’s in his lab coat, of course. He wears it open over a charcoal gray suit with a gray-blue shirt underneath. The color seems to heighten the gray of his eyes, which in turn seems to heighten the color of the shirt. It’s like they’re in some kind of feedback loop that just gets louder and louder. And the loop is focused on me, and the closer he comes, the more mesmerized I am.

I attempt to stare stupidly at his nose. I attempt to imagine gummy bears.

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