Juice: Part Two (Juice #2) (2 page)
Read Juice: Part Two (Juice #2) Online
Authors: Victoria Starke
“Hey, you girls want these leftover cupcakes from the
meeting earlier? I think they’re red velvet.”
“No, thanks, Barry.”
“I forgot you girls don’t eat before noon!” he laughs at his
own joke.
Gross
.
I’m snapped back to reality at my desk job, though my mind
keeps wandering to my new billionaire customer. Was I just fooling myself that
he really was interested in the company or was he just using me for sex?
“Tell me again what happened,” Denise insists. “You got an
order for your juice company, and a second later you two are having sex? And I
thought I was the slut!”
She’s right, I’m always quick to judge girls around me, but
here I was last night, giving it away so easy. But it wasn’t so easy. It was a
wild turn of events. It could have happened to anyone.
“Denise, I dropped the order all over the lobby floor and
was mortified,” I explain. “I thought for sure the customer was my typical,
impatient and bossy type, ready to ask for a refund and kick my clumsy butt to
the curb, but Everett even helped me clean up my mess.”
“He sounds like a real catch. Do you think he has any other
single, hot, billionaire friends?”
“I will definitely ask next time I see him.”
After last evening’s encounter, I’m working at a half-pace
at DW and W. I’m typing, “Under these circumstances, the Court of Appeals holds
that no contract was ever made between the parties with respect to an order
that defendant submitted because the plaintiff fucked my brains out so good
that –”
Oh god, did I really just type that?
My day is an endless series of meetings, note taking, and
tense phone calls. Maybe I should see if this investment is real and take our
juice cleanse big time. Unless I want to go back to school for three years,
pass the bar, and become one of these lawyers. I have to do something.
Thump. thump. thump.
I can feel Barry lumbering down
the hall well before he even gets to our office. “Hey, hey, ladies. It’s 5pm
somewhere. Here, actually. You’re still up for thirsty Thursdays?”
“Is Sean coming?” I ask through clenched teeth and no eye
contact.
“Yeah, I think so. Why, you have a thing for him? Just
kidding, no dating allowed in the office. Unless it’s me. Just kidding, again!
Anyway, I’ll see you there.” Barry says, satisfied with himself.
What a maniac.
“Bronwyn,” Denise says, “Let’s just go and have a drink and
see what happens?”
“All right. One drink.”
Sombreros Taqueria. Authentic Mexican Restaurant.
Right.
Even at 5:30 in the evening, this place reeks of stale beer,
cheap tequila, and post-frat shenanigans.
“Let’s grab a table outside,” I insist. Denise and I
follow Sean to the back courtyard with overhanging trees with lights, tiki
torches, and an outdoor DJ.
Now, this, I can do.
“What do you think about her?” Sean says, motioning to a
petite brunette at another table.
“She’s cute! Go talk to her,” I suggest. Sean was tall,
handsome, and sweet, but totally lacking in self-confidence.
“Can you introduce me?” he asks me while looking away.
“Let
me
introduce you to my little friends, Cuervo
shots, bitches!” Barry says, crashing the conversation with three shots in
hand.
“Hey, who wants some? I know this girl does,” he says. My
overgrown child of a boss drops the tequila shots on our table, and slides one
right to me. “One for you, Bronwyn, one for Denise, and one for me. Sorry,
Sean, I didn’t know you were coming,” he says. Sean waves off the slight and
sips from his beer quietly.
I take the shot. It burns all the way down to my stomach.
Another one arrives shortly afterward. “C’mon Bron, loosen
up. Let’s have some fun tonight,” Barry says, now sitting next to me.
I jab Denise under the table and mouth to her get me out of
here. She ignores my predicament to continue her conversation with Sean.
“You know,” Barry says while leaning in closely, “If you
apply yourself more at work, you could really make a name for yourself. I’m
thinking of recommending you for a promotion.” While making this creepy offer
to his subordinate, he places his hand on my upper thigh and looks directly
into my eyes. My skin goes cold. I clamp down my hand over his and push it
away. I stand quickly. “I’ll be back, I have to pee.”
I retreat to a filthy bathroom stall in the ladies’ room. I
figure I’m better here than getting finger-banged on the patio. What do I do?
Run the hell out of here, tell Barry to fuck off, and potentially cause a
scene?
I’m annoyed but buzzed enough to shoot a quick text to
Everett: “Hey, what’re you up to? Creepy boss is creeping me out with creepy
shots. Wanna get together?”
I hesitate a moment and stare at my message. Dammit. He’s
going to think I’m desperate. Texting the very next day. He’s never going to
respond. Hot, young, rich men do not suffer foolish drunk texts from paralegals
moonlighting as startup juice cleanse salespeople. I’m screwed.
Ding. It’s Everett, responding with a short message, “Yes.
Can’t stop thinking about you. Where are you? I’ll pick you up.”
“Sombreros something?” I write back, pretending I haven’t
been here a dozen times.
Be there in 15. I exit the bathroom to find Barry waiting
for me at the door. He looks annoyed.
“Hey where’d you go? I told everyone you were probably
taking a shit in there you were gone so long. C’mon let’s get back to the
table.”
“Actually, boss, I think I’m going to head out in a moment,
my stomach is feeling a bit off tonight,” I say and begin to walk away.
“Oh, so you do have the shits, just kidding,” he says while
walking after me. “How about you dance with me one song? This is my favorite
Pitbull, “Hey yea yea! Don’t stop the party!” he yell-sings while jumping
behind me. He grinds his bulge against my butt and pulls my hips in close to
his. “Hey, that’s enough, Barry,” I say, and continue walking toward the exit.
“Hey, I’m not done with you!” Barry exclaims while grabbing my arm and yanking
me towards him.
I scream and try to break free, no to avail. Then, I hear a
familiar deep and pleasant voice behind me again. It’s Everett.
“Bron, is this guy bothering you?”
“Hey pal, I’m her boss, and we’re just having a good
time. Fuck off.”
Everett grabs Barry firmly by his collar and breaks us free.
“You’ll let her go,” he calmly says while moving him back several feet. My arm
stings from where Barry grabbed me.
“Are you okay?” he asks while Barry storms off.
“Yeah, just get me out of here. Thank you so much.”
Everett quickly escorts me to the street where a brand new
white Tesla is waiting just outside.
“Is there anything unsexy about you, Everett?”
“Very little,” he says while giving me a quick kiss on
the lips. I’m instantly feeling excited and secure with this new beau behind
the wheel. The electric motor quietly whisks us away from the ugly scene and
through Manhattan’s darkened streets.
I’m filled with rage but also suddenly feeling so secure
with Everett driving. Emboldened by his confidence, I slide my hand across the
console and toward his pants zipper.
“No distracting the driver,” he says, with a wink.
“I won’t be distracting,” I say with a slight smile
and a side-long glance. I continue to pull down the zipper where I find his
cock swelling in anticipation. I pull him completely outside, lean over, and
begin to make love to him with my mouth. I lovingly caress his cock to show my appreciation
to my night’s savior. My hand slides up and down and around, slickening the
shaft while he grows and throbs in my mouth.
We enter the freeway, and I feel the car accelerate and
gather speed as his foot presses into the floor. I quicken my pace, sucking,
pulling, and lathering his thick cock with saliva. I instinctively find my
other hand exploring toward my pussy and begin rubbing myself. I’m surprised by
how wet I am. I pull my panties aside, and start rubbing my clit and g-spot. We
enter a tunnel and the tires howl and echo off the concrete walls.
“Oh, Bron, that feels so good… I’m going to come,” he
warns as his semen shoots down my throat. I’m furiously fingering my clit now
as my own orgasm hits me almost simultaneously. Waves of warm pleasure course
through my body.
“Wow, that was amazing,” Everett says, now slowing to
enter his building’s garage. I nod.
I awake to automatic blinds revealing the sunrise stretching
over the Atlantic Ocean. I rub my eyes and look around at the gray palate
decorating the bedroom around me. Mid-tone gray walls, glass, and more white
leather. A bachelor indeed. But where is he?
I drift back to sleep a moment longer before I hear someone
enter the room. “Hey sleepyhead,” Everett says while drinking one of my juices.
“Are you going to sleep all day?”
“It’s only 7!” I say while tossing a pillow at him.
He’s wearing gym pants, no shirt, and his skin is flush as he crawls over to
me. “Do you run every day?” I ask.
“Sometimes twice. It’s a bit of an obsession.”
He kisses me then continues on to the bathroom. “Have you
ever been to northern Italy?” he calls out to me. “I’m meeting with some old
friends in a couple weeks and was thinking you could join me. I have a place in
Milan,” he says casually.
“You have two houses?”
“Three, if you count the studio in San Francisco. It’s very
small, though,” he says as though he’s embarrassed.
I would count that.
“I’d love to come,” I say and relax into the comforts
of his bed. I reflexively pull up my phone to check email and plan my day and
see one short line from Barry waiting for me:
You’re fired.
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