Thanks.
Actually, her laughter gave me the tiniest bit of hope Derek might see the humor in this situation as well, however slight. Then my mind scrolled through all the possible ramifications of what I’d done, and I felt sick all over again. Nope. He’d be pissed.
Sorry. Are you really in trouble?
I’ll be OK. I answered. Don’t worry.
Now I’m worried.
Don’t. I’m handling it.
I dropped the phone on my bed and went straight to the shower. I wanted to wash, no scrub this day off me. I wished I had a brillo. Turning the water on hot, I waited until the thin, white steam started to rise before I stepped inside and laid it all out in my mind.
Problem number one: Star was a subordinate, which meant she could claim sexual harassment and sue me. Whether it was true or not, the publicity would kill us. Derek was going to kick my ass. And I deserved it.
Problem number two: Star’s husband. Was he crazy? Did he own a gun? Would he show up at the office threatening to use it? Again, Derek was going to kill me. I had to fix this.
Then a new potential problem hit me. If this shit got out of hand before Sunday, I had no backup. Maybe I should just tell Derek now and ask if I could crash at his place for a few nights. That option made my stomach burn.
I decided to think about it more before pulling that trigger. It was possible once Derek returned on Monday, Star would take one look at him and drop it. “Mr. Alexander” was a pretty intimidating force in the office, and he ran a tight ship. Maybe I could slowly disengage.
Washing my hair, giving my body and particularly my dick an extra good scrubbing, I stepped out feeling calmer. I wrapped the towel around my waist and noticed the face of my phone was covered in texts. Picking it up, my adrenaline started pumping again. Sixteen texts. One from Kenny, fifteen from Star.
Kenny: Check in, okay?
Star #1: You there?
#2: Patrick?
#3: Please text back. I’m worried.
#4: I miss you already.
#5: When I move, I can tell you’ve been inside me.
Fuck.
#6: I can still taste you.
Double Fuck.
#7: Do you miss me?
#8: Why aren’t you texting me back?
#9: Where are you?
#10: Are you avoiding me?
#11: You know you can’t avoid me.
#12: I see your lights on.
Fuck Fuck Fuck! I resisted the urge to slam my phone into the wall and instead read her last three messages.
#13: I’m waiting here til you text back.
#14: Patrick?