Fat Cat Liar

A hand lands on my shoulder, and out of the corner of my eye, I spot her long red fingernails as they snake down my arm.

“Lawson,” Kyra purrs, the sound grating on my nerves. “I’ve wondered where you’ve been.”

I side step out of her reach. “I’ve been working, Kyra, like always.”

“Rumor has it you’ve landed a huge top-secret project. The whole office is buzzing about what’s happening behind your door.”

“The whole office needs to mind their business and do their job,” I snap, narrowing my eyes in irritation. “You should try it, too.”

“Ooh, touchy, touchy. Sounds like someone is stressed. Maybe I could help with that.” She cuts her gaze to my dick, licking her lips.

Nothing happens. No stir in my pants, no twitch in my cock, not even a flutter of excitement knowing this woman wants my dick. In the past, I was an equal opportunity asshole. I enjoyed the thrill of the chase as well as the general easy fuck.

Kyra fell into the easy fuck category.

I stare at her in repulsion, wondering what the hell I was thinking when I fucked her. The last two weeks have changed my outlook.

Kyra’s an attractive woman but unlike Greer in every way.

Greer is a natural beauty, whereas Kyra has to work at it. Her bleached blonde hair, her artificial nails, her attitude… Everything about her is an illusion. Hell, even her tits are fake.

She’s not the kind of woman you randomly blurt out personal details to about your deceased mother. Details you’ve never shared with anyone before.

She’s not the kind of woman you hold in your arms, kissing her until your lips are raw and your cock is aching, begging for relief.

She’s not the kind of woman who has you lying in bed, thinking ‘she makes me want to be a better man’.

Kyra’s the kind of woman you fuck, using double protection, and leave in the dead of night, immediately regretting your decision.

Looking at her now, all I see is a colossal mistake.

“Not interested,” I tell her, walking the long way around the breakroom to leave.

“Are you honestly turning me down?”

“Yep,” I continue.

“You’re not going to abide by that stupid fraternization rule, are you?”

“Not stupid,” I clip.

“You’re in line to be president of this company one day. Are you going to let your uptight uncle tell you who you can fuck?” Her tone is laced with disgust.

I stop, gripping the stem of my coffee mug so tight my knuckles crack. When I glance back at her, she’s standing with her hands on her hips and an icy glare.

“If I were you, I’d be careful what you say, Kyra. You’re skating a very thin line.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Not at all.”

“Then what’s your damn problem?”

“Don’t have a problem. I’m not interested in what you’re offering.”

“A month ago, you couldn’t get enough.”

“A month ago, I drank too much bourbon and let my dick make decisions. Since then, I’ve wised up.”