Page 10 of Get It In Writing
Chapter Six - Rebecca
What do I really have to lose here, besides my dignity?
I guess it wouldn’t be preferable to become the girl who screwed the boss, but I highly doubt this gig is going to last very long, anyway.
Why’d I take it in the first place? To be honest, I needed something to do during the day to make money while I got my design business off the ground. Nights and weekends have been devoted to creating, getting new clients, and working on pro-bono projects for family and friends to get my portfolio rounded out.
And it’s finally starting to take off. In a few months, I might be able to actually pay one of my student loans each month with the money I make from my little side gig. But for now?
It’s the nine-to-five. So don’t blame me if I’m a little bit preoccupied with what’s going on inside the boss’s pants. If I lose this job, it’ll only be a matter of time until I get something different. A waitressing gig, maybe. Something to keep me raking in that sweet, sweet dough until my real passion becomes my money maker.
Oh, who am I kidding? I need this job, and all the wishful thinking in the world isn’t going to keep me employed.
That’s why this is a bad idea. I just have to keep telling myself that.
Don’t screw the boss. Put your head down and keep your eyes on your work.
I focus up, take a sip of my coffee and look straight ahead at my computer screen. Joanna’s emailed me from home a list of names that need to be squeezed into a schedule for an upcoming investor meeting. I need to call everyone up, verify their availability, and get the whole thing set up for one of the four days Harper is available this month to hold the meeting.
Eyes ahead, I start sifting through the names and making calls.
This is my job. This is why I’m here. It’s not to be a conquest for the hot boss who I’msurehas done this before and will do it again.
I’m about to pick up the phone receiver to make my final call when I see that the boss is buzzing me.
“Hello?” I say, cradling the phone between my ear and my shoulder, careful not to look over into the big guy’s office.
“Are you almost done with your work?” he asks with a bemused impatience and a hint of mischief.
“Yes, I am. As a matter of fact, I would be able to finish up more quickly if you weren’t distracting me,” I say.
“We are still getting that drink, correct?” he asks. He oozes arrogance, and I can feel it dripping out of the phone.
I sigh and toss my pen down on the pad of paper I was using to check off each person I’d made a call to, and I wonder how many of the people on my list have slept with their bosses.
“Yes,” I say, all sense of propriety tumbling out the window. There it goes - I can see it escaping along with my good sense.
Maybe someday I can go into politics. I’m good at keeping my word, even when I’m flip-flopping on the inside. And it’s not just my decision that’s flip-flopping. It’s my stomach, and as I confirm our date, I draw up a little bit of courage from deep inside me.
“I intend on asking you some questions about your tattoos,” I remind him. “From a purely design standpoint.”
“Oh, I know,” he says, a chuckle coming through in his voice. “I know it’s not because you picture me with my shirt off, waiting to know what else my body can show you. It’s purely professional.”
“Correct,” I say. The room gets hot around me and my heart skips a beat. Of course I want to know what’s going on underneath that suit.
“Then get back to work,” he says as I finally look over at him, catching his sparkling eyes, “and let me do the same. I have a business to run here.”
He hangs up and waves over to me. All this toying with me isn’t right. My body can’t take it. It’s too much.
But I can’t help it. He knows how hot I think he is. He knows it, and he won’t let me forget it.
