“You need to take care of yourself,” she insists. “You act like you’re this . . . stoic guy that doesn’t need anyone. And maybe you don’t, I don’t know. But you need to enjoy your life. Find some balance.”
“I’m balanced. My scale just looks different than yours.”
“Balance is balance, Graham. It means what it means.”
This is brewing into a fight, one I don’t want to have. Not just because it’s Camilla, but because I just don’t have the energy. Or the temperament. “I’m not in the mood to have this conversation,” I tell her.
“Can I offer you a suggestion?”
“Sure,” I sigh. “Then I need to go.” I pull my phone away from my face again as an alert beeps through.
“Give Mallory a chance. She really needs this job, Graham, and I know she’s smart and—”
“It was her that tried to quit,” I remind her, my frustration going up a few notches. “I didn’t try to fire her. But, come to think of it, maybe I should’ve let her. It would resolve a few things.”
I’m right. I should’ve. But the thought of not seeing her on Monday morning gives me a feeling I’m not willing to deal with yet. I need to wrap my head around this before I go making huge moves. Well, bigger moves than I did today. Or sinking inside her again . . .
“Maybe you should consider why you didn’t,” she says gently.
“I need to go, Cam.”
“Come have lunch with Mom and I tomorrow.”
“I’ll try,” I say. “I’ll talk to you soon.”
Before she can pull me in a different direction, I end the call. Flipping to texts, I see the same number has hit me up a few times. I click on line.
There are four messages in green.
I got your email. You can’t just “decline my request” without talking to me about it.
Although, I find it telling that you want to keep me around. I’m good, huh? ;)
Just in case you were curious, we used forks. Real metal ones.
We had a meal and went our (separate) ways. My thighs are still kind of stuck together. Guess I’ll grab a bath and consider your REQUEST that I stay with your company.
My fingers are striking the keys on my phone before I can consider it.
It wasn’t a request. Don’t be late.
Her responds pings immediately.
Her: What if I am?
Me: I’ll make you work over.
Her: Does any of that include desk work in your office? If so, I’ll see you at ten after eight.
My hand goes to my cock as I imagine her on my desk, splayed out just for me.
Me: I’ll say you performed well for your first week.
Her: I’d say it wasn’t terrible working for you.
Me: Wow. Thanks for the vote of confidence.
Her: Could’ve been worse. Could’ve been better.