Page 92 of The Boss Upstairs
I hate having to do this, but there’s no other play here. Ive been going to the group for weeks now, and I’ve gotten all I could get from it. I never really enjoyed it, and life is too short to do anything you don’t want to do, unless you really need to. And now, with Samuel’s infatuation, I think I’ll be doing everyone a favor if I leave.
My heart is heavy as I call him. He answers on the first ring.
“Hey, Gretchen. How are you?”
“I’m… great. Thanks so much for the flowers. They’re sitting on my kitchen table. They really brighten the room.”
“I’m glad you like them. I just wanted to thank you for coming over. I had a really good time.”
“Well, I’m the one who should thank you. I’m the one who enjoyed a nice home cooked meal.”
“So you liked my meatloaf? It’s my mother’s recipe.”
“Yes, it was great.”
“So, I’ll see you tomorrow?”
My heart sinks. “Uh… about that. I was calling to thank you for the flowers, but also to let you know… I won’t be coming to the group anymore.”
A long painful silence fills the line.
“What?”
“Honestly… It’s not doing anything for me,” I try to explain. “You know how I hate it.”
“Well, I hate it too,” he points out. “But we both need it.”
“I don’t,” I argue. “I’m doing really well these days. Ethan is too.”
He sighs loud enough for me to hear. “Well, I think you’re making a huge mistake,” he scoffs. “You’ll regret this, Gretchen.”
My heart skips a beat. Is he threatening me? I really should end this conversation now before he gets more worked up. “I’m really sorry,” I tell him. “I really enjoyed our friendship. You’re a great guy. I gotta go now.”
Click.
Damn, I really could have handled that better. I’ve never been good at this kind of thing.
My phone rings. It’s him. I decline. He calls again. I decline. And again. And again.
Finally, I block his number. I have no other choice.
God, what a mess.
* * *
I walkinto Weston’s office first thing in the morning.
“We need to make amendments to the agreement.”
He smiles. “Already done. I’ve taken out the ‘no undies’ and ‘no kissing’ clauses.”
“Oh, good.” I say, brought back to the day before. I glance over at the loveseat. I want to do that again, but this time, I want to take it further. I spent hours tossing and turning in my bed last night, imagining his mouth on my pussy. “Can we scratch the ‘no oral’ too?”
His beautiful mouth curves into a slow smile. “What the lady wants, the lady gets.”
I lean against his desk. “I guess all that’s left now is intercourse.”
“That’s right.”
