Red, White & Bang

1

Gina Henry

As I have only worked for Cox Enterprises for three whole days, the company required July 4th employee picnic at Hendrix State Park just outside of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania is full of people I don’t know yet. I was hired as a marketing executive. I am right out of college. Literally. I just graduated ten days ago. I am not only the youngest person on the marketing team but also, I am the only woman.

What makes matters worse is that my boss’s boss, Quincy Cox, the company’s vice-president of marketing, is the hottest man I’ve ever seen. He’s tall, like 6’3 at least, bald (yum) with muscles. So many muscles. His brown eyes are bright, and he has a tan. It’s safe to say that I don’t have a tan. I would call my skin color translucent porcelain. He probably vacations with bikini-clad models on pristine foreign beaches and I hate that the thought of him with a woman who isn’t me makes me sick to my stomach.

Not for the first time, I question why my reaction to him is so strong. His clothes are tailor-made no doubt. They fit him like a second skin. He does things to me. Shivering, I recall how it felt like he spoke directly to me. His smooth baritone voice caressed my skin with each word he spoke.

Quincy Cox gave the commencement address during my graduation ceremony. That is the extent of my knowing him. I haven’t even seen him around the office. His corner office with a view is up on the thirty-fifth floor, while my sad, gray cubicle is down on twelve. There’s no way he knows who I am, it’s just a coincidence that the first and only place I applied to hired me, sight unseen, but a girl can dream. In fact, I have. Every night since I learned of his existence, I’ve dreamt of him. Dirty, depraved, and desperate, my dreams of him currently own me.

I gulp as his eyes find mine from across the recreation space. Shit! He’s caught me staring like a fucking creeper. As he determinedly walks over to me, I suddenly wish I had more clothing on. I feel like he’s got x-ray vision or something. The flimsy white sundress with little peaches on it seemed like a good idea this morning, but with the way he’s staring at me like he’s going to kill me, I’m second guessing my attire. He comes to an abrupt halt a mere arms-length away from me.

“What the fuck do you think you are doing, Ms. Henry?” His gruff voice gives me goosebumps, just like it did at my graduation.

“Excuse me, Mr. Cox?” I ask, confused by both his tone and his demeanor. He doesn’t know me. This is the first time he’s spoken to me personally or he’s stood so close to me. There is a middle manager, Dwight, that I deal with on a daily basis. There hasn’t been a need to speak to him or see him in more than passing since I started a few days ago.

“I can see right through your dress and so can every other motherfucker out here,” he says taking off his sportscoat and putting it around my shoulders. It’s ninety-nine degrees out here, why the hell is he dressed so formally for a picnic?

I make the mistake of accidentally breathing in and I am blessed with the most amazing scent coming off of his jacket. There’s no way this scent is bottled. It’s all man and it’s all him. Oh my God! My pussy contracts and I am filled with a need I have never known before nor can I explain it.

“Um, Mr. Cox,” I start.

“You will call me Quincy,” he growls, cutting me off. I roll my eyes. I hate being told what to do.

“Mr. Cox, please. It’s too hot for this,” I implore, refusing to call him anything but Mr. Cox. Looking up at the skyscraper of a man, my knees weaken. I didn’t know that could actually happen. I thought the notion was for Victorian romance novels.

“You should have thought of that when you were getting dressed this morning.”

“You have got to be kidding me, Mr. Cox. I wasn’t aware there was a dress code for the picnic,” I reply sassily.

“See-through is never an appropriate attire outside of our bedroom.”

Wait. What? I do a double take. Did he just say what I think he did?

“Excuse me?” As much as I’ve fantasized about him in the last ten days, I never dared hope that he even knew who I was.

“You heard me, Gina,” he says stepping even closer to me.

“I don’t think I did, sir.” At this point, I’m breathless. Can he tell what he’s doing to me? Fuck, this is a little intense for me. Never having been with a man, I don’t know what to do now.