Page 5 of Playing with the Boss

She rises from her seat, dusting crumbs from the base of her blouse with a sheepish smile. I return it with a bold one of my own, causing a rose blush to pepper her cheeks as she passes by.

One twist of my head confirms she’s down the hall and out of sight. With a swift kick of my foot, I send the door swinging most of the way closed and then set to work.

Employees DA-EH

The folder makes a soft sweeping sound as I slide it out, not too unlike the sound Lisa’s dress made as I hitched it around her waist last weekend. I said I couldn’t remember her name, but that was utter bullshit. She may not have given it to me in the bar, but fucking Alf couldn’t stop singing her praises when he explained she’d fill in for Rosie.

Lisa East. Short, simple, and easy to remember.

I flick through the pages until I come across her one, praying the information isn’t outdated. The questionnaire she filled in during the application process fronts her section, complete with phone number and, praise the Lord, her address.

I check over my shoulder, guiltier than when I stole my dad’s Playboys at age eleven, and snap a quick picture with my phone. My fingers have barely left the spine of the folder when my oblivious accomplice returns. I pretend to be seated on the front of the empty desk, checking emails on my phone as she enters.

“Let me know if you require anything else, won’t you?” She offers the fresh sheet of copy paper, still warm from the machine.

I pocket my phone and fold the useless data in half. “Thank you….”

“Susan.”

“Susan,” I repeat with as much silk in my voice as I can muster. “Pleasure.”

I leave the payroll office sure of two things:

1. Susan will get herself off to the memory of me tonight—whether that’s with a vibrator or her husband, only she’ll know.

2. I’ll be getting off tonight with one very real, very hot-blooded siren by the name of Lisa East.