The Truth

Once in, I struggled my way through school, trying to magically find an extra hour in every day to help me balance a job and studying, and then I followed Elle to Fox Industries. And as the previous generation of front desk staffers now represented by Megan and Stephanie, Elle and I made the front desk duties our bitch and had a blast doing it.

But while Elle eventually found her way to her happily ever after—in London, of all places—and I could’ve gone home to be closer to my parents, I felt at home here and never left. Besides, I’m carving out my own future now in a way that I wouldn’t if I’d left Fox Industries.

And now, sneaking up on thirty, I know I’ve earned and worked for every bit of success I have.

But ‘Boss’ still sits awkwardly on my shoulders. Boss should feel like a superwoman cape, giving me a boost of power, but instead, it feels more like a sheet I stole out of the clean laundry basket and tied around my neck like when I was a kid. But damn if it didn’t feel awesome flying out behind me as I ran around the house.

So, doing my best, I flip my hair back over my shoulders in place of the invisible cape and remind myself that I’ve got this, no ifs, ands, or buts about it.

With Megan and Stephanie given their marching orders, I look around to see what else needs to be done before the end of the day. There’s only one thing, and I’ve been bullishly putting it off.

But since it’s Friday, the time for delaying is up, so I stop at ‘station two’, getting the cart with boxes of prepared binders, and head for the elevator. Upstairs, I push the cart into the outer office of an executive’s suite.

“Hey, Miranda, I’ve got your presentation materials for Tuesday’s meeting.”

Miranda is my former boss who decided she’d rather specialize and work for one executive. Her move is what allowed me to fill my present role, and she never lets me forget it. Actually, it’s not that bad. I suspect she sees me as her ‘protege’ and is giving me her version of tough love in an attempt to make me ‘better’. But it could be a lot less abrasive and still be effective, if you ask me.

Miranda gets up and comes over, picking up a binder to flip through it. Her red lips purse, and her matching red fingertip slides along the page as she reads to herself. After a moment, she snaps the binder closed. “Looks good.”

That’s high praise from Miranda. She’s not a monster, and I can empathize with the tight positions Elle and I often put her in with our antics, but she wasn’t the best boss, either. She rode my ass.

And I’m not looking for a repeat ride, so I’m already halfway out the door when I call back, “Thanks. Have a good weekend.”

As I ride the elevator back down, I think about the way Miranda supervised compared to the way I do and realize that my team needs a reward for all the hard work they’ve put in lately. Some morale boosting and team building would do us all good.

Hitting the front desk, I put on my best smile. “Hey, Megan, Stephanie? Happy hour tonight? Drinks are on me in appreciation for everything you’ve done lately. I know those binders were a bitch to pull together.”

Stephanie lets out a loud whoop of excitement, already nodding her head vigorously. “Yes! There’s a new place on Main Street that I’ve been dying to try. I’m in!”

Megan smiles sweetly, agreeing quickly, though less enthusiastically. “Okay. I’ll let Davis know.”

Davis is Megan’s boyfriend, who is equally polite and . . . beige. Together, they’re the equivalent of plain cream cheese on a rice cake. But they seem deeply in love, something I can’t fault them for.

“May I begin sexual intercourse with you, dear?”

“Yes, you may.”

“Of course. As always. In, two, three, out, two, three.”

“Ooh, you’re being frisky tonight. A three-beat, you wild man.”

That’s what I imagine Megan and Davis’s sex life is like. I just hope for something more . . . exciting when I eventually find my Mr. Right.

I’m looking for something more like . . .

“Lie back and hold on.” The faceless, nameless man slams inside me, instantly stretching me in that way that hurts so good, not real pain but that incredible sense of complete fullness and utter surrender. “Fuck, you feel good. I can feel you clamping down on me already, but we’re just getting started. I’m gonna make you come until you beg me to stop.”

I sigh wistfully, wishing I could find my dirty-talking, take-charge sex god who’s actually a good man outside the bedroom too.

Is that too much to ask? Probably.