Made in America (8 page)

GRANT: I’m being serious. Buy it, and wear it tomorrow, along with whatever else you want. Now take it off and send me another picture.

RAVEN: You know you’re my boss, right?

GRANT: Do you send all your bosses pictures of you in your underwear?

RAVEN: No, but you’re a little different, aren’t you?

GRANT: I think that’s a fair assumption.

RAVEN: I still can’t believe you’d never eaten a Big Mac before today.

GRANT: I still can’t believe you haven’t sent me another picture yet.

This time when she texts through, there’s another image. A close-up of her breasts. My pulse quickens as my cock gets even harder, all the blood rushing from my head to my organ, leaving me feeling lightheaded and horny as hell. If I wasn’t going to jerk off when I got home, I sure am now. It’s all I can think about.

RAVEN: That’s all you’re getting.

GRANT: That’s all I want…for now.

RAVEN: Please, you wouldn’t even know what to do with them if you actually had them.

GRANT: Don’t be so dismissive. Just because the women I’ve dated haven’t had your assets doesn’t mean I’m oblivious to the ways of titty play.

RAVEN: LOL. Titty play. You’re hilarious.

GRANT: Does that surprise you? That I have a sense of humor?

RAVEN: A lot of things about you surprise me.

GRANT: Like what?

RAVEN: Like the fact you’d never eaten a Big Mac before, and the fact that you’re not as stuffy as I thought you’d be.

GRANT: I know how to have fun, when the occasion warrants it.

RAVEN: Prove it.

I quickly email myself the close-up picture of her tits. Heading over to my laptop, I open the image and make it full screen, and lean back in my chair before unzipping my pants. My cock springs loose and before I know it, I’m sitting there with my dick in one hand, and my phone in the other. It’s a good thing there’s no one else in the office right now.

GRANT: What do you mean, prove it?

I stroke my cock, imaging her wonderful tits slapping against it. The very thought of having her flesh that close to me is enough to send me over the edge, but I prolong the pleasure. Bringing myself to the brink of explosion before letting go. Edge play. It can be torturous, but done right, the release is incredible.

RAVEN: Tito and Frankie are having an engagement party this weekend at Drake’s. You should come with me. Let your hair down.

Hair. Her hair. Swaying back and forth over my naked thighs as her tits work my cock up and down, in and out. I stoke harder and faster, once again bringing myself to the edge of coming, only to stop and watch my dick twitch with disappointment.

GRANT: U want me to b ur date?

RAVEN: Y r u typing like that?

GRANT: 1 hand.

A minute passes before I hear from her again. I don’t care that she knows what I’m doing. Quite the opposite, really. At this point I don’t care about much, and I’m hoping she’ll find it a turn on to know what I’m doing with her picture.

RAVEN: Are you serious? You got your dick out right there in the office?

GRANT: Yes.

RAVEN: LOL. Well, well. Mr. Huffman.

I can hear her saying that like she’s right here with me. Down on her knees, gripping my dick in her tight grasp. Gazing upon its girth and saying with her accent,
well, well, Mr. Huffman, I didn’t know you had such a big cock.

I can’t take it anymore. I stroke myself to completion, sending a hot geyser of cum spurting all over the edge of my desk and pants. It’s a good thing I have a wardrobe in here.

Taking a deep breath, I ease back with a smile on my face as my cock softens. With both hands I type:
All done.

RAVEN: That was fast. I would have thought you for more stamina.

GRANT: See what you do to me?

RAVEN: Imagine, all that from a picture of my knockers. Imagine what it’d be like if I sent you a picture of my cunt.

GRANT: I love your filthy mouth.

RAVEN: Babe, you haven’t heard anything yet.

GRANT: Yet, implies that I will.

RAVEN: I’m not going to fuck you, remember?

GRANT: But you’re perfectly fine teasing me?

RAVEN: Absolutely. Now about that party…

Sitting there with my cock hanging out of my pants, and cum slowly drying on my leg, it’s hard to say no after admitting what I’ve just done. I flick a glance at my computer and see her tits still staring back at me. I twitch once more, and think it best to end this conversation so I can get changed and head home.

GRANT: I’ll go, on one condition.

RAVEN: What’s that?

GRANT: You come to an event of my choosing when I ask.

RAVEN: As long as you buy the clothes, I’ll come wherever you want me to.

GRANT: Be careful what you wish for.

RAVEN: You know what I mean, perv.

GRANT: You like it.

RAVEN: ;-)

GRANT: Haven fun shopping.

RAVEN: TTFN

I throw the phone on my desk and grab some tissues to wipe up my mess. Closing my laptop, I shake my head at the absurdity of all of this. Her first day on the job and already we’re so much more than just boss/employee. I’ve never done that with a woman before. All of my sexual encounters have always been face to face. Just knowing she knew what I was doing—and didn’t shy away from it—tells me Raven is unlike any other woman I’ve known.

But it’s more than just the physical.

She was right when she said I felt protective of her. I can’t explain it, but I do. Maybe it’s just infatuation, but it doesn’t feel like that.

It feels like something more.

And I can’t wait to see where this leads.

- 9 -

Raven

“What are all those tattoos for?” Grant asks.

I look up from my roasted turkey and avocado BLT, taking the opportunity to grab a napkin and wipe the crumbs from my lips.

Sitting across from Grant in his office while we eat lunch has become common occurrence. Monday he said he doesn’t usually let anybody in here when he eats, but by Thursday he said the thought of eating lunch without me just doesn’t seem right, so here I am.

Trust me, I don’t mind one bit.

Grant takes a bite of his Mediterranean Veggie and eyeballs my arms with a penetrating stare.

God, he’s even sexy when he eats his Panera Bread.

I thought for sure when I started working here he was going to ask me to keep my tattoos covered, but all the blouses I bought on Monday at Barney’s are sleeveless, and he hasn’t said a word. The one I’m wearing now is an eye-lashed fringe top that cost nearly $400.

I still can’t believe he let me spend as much as I did.

“They’re symbolic of my life,” I say.

“How so?”

I gaze at the different images inked onto my arms. Trying to explain to someone what your tattoos mean when they’ve never had the desire to get one can sometimes be a challenge.

I point to the Statue of Liberty on my right forearm and say, “Got this one when I first moved to New York.”

“But why? I mean, what purpose does it serve?”

I purse my lips, thinking best how to describe what he’s asking. “You know how some people keep a journal, right? Like, a diary of their experiences and thoughts. That’s what my tattoos are. They’re a journal of my life, only instead of putting my experiences away on some shelf, I put them on my body so I’m always reminded of where I’ve been, and where I’m going.”

He nods, though I can see the wheels spinning in his brain. He’s trying to understand, but not quite there yet.

“When I was a little girl, I always wanted to live in New York,” I tell him. “So when I got here, I had this ink done to remind myself of that accomplishment. When I’m feeling down, or having second thoughts about my life, I can look at it as a reminder there’s nothing I can’t do if I set my mind to it.”

“And this one?” he asks, pointing to a new school squirrel tattoo on my left arm. “What could that possibly signify?”

I laugh. It’s been a while since I thought about that one, and Grant’s intrigue brings up a memorable—and fitting—moment.

“That one signifies the time I lost my virginity.”

“You lost your virginity to a squirrel?” he arches his eyebrows amusedly.

“No, you twit. His name was Eddie Faulkner, but he did have buck teeth, and shaggy brown hair, and his cheeks were kind of large, like he was always munching on something, so he reminded me of a squirrel. Hence the tattoo. When I look at it, I’m reminded of first loves, and that no matter how many times I’ve had my heart broken, there’s still more firsts to come, because everyone’s different, right?”

“Have you had your heart broken a lot? I mean, you’re only 25.”

“I’ve had my fair share of heartbreaks, sure. We all have. Even you.”

Grant dusts off his fingers and sits back in his chair. “What makes you think I’ve had my heart broken?”

“Come on,” I scoff. “Even someone like you has had to have loved and lost.”

“Someone like me?”

“Someone who likes to pretend they have a cold, dead heart. I know that’s not what you’re all about. Somewhere inside that chest of yours is a beating mass of feelings and emotions, and maybe at one time that shone through, but something happened that caused you to close it off, and now your life is all sex, sex, sex, with no passion to it.”

His eyes flick from mine to the half-eaten sandwich sitting on his desk blotter. A sure tell I’ve struck a nerve. Closing his mouth, I can see Grant’s jaw flexing as he bites back…what? The pain of a lost loved? Regret? We’ve all been there, but he seems to be harboring something a little different, and I’d be lying if I said my curiosity isn’t piqued.

Note to self: do a deep Google search when you get home.

Grant clears his throat, steering the conversation in another direction. “So about this engagement party on Saturday.”

“Right. It starts at 8 and goes until whenever everyone’s too drunk to stand.”

“I’ve never been that drunk in my life.”

“First time for everything,” I wink.

He glances at my squirrel tattoo. “I guess so,” he whispers, a speck of a sneer making its way to his nostrils.

“What? Jealous? Annoyed that somebody’s already had a piece of me. What did you think? That I was a virgin?”

“No,” he says, “I just didn’t expect you to display your various conquests like that.”

“Conquest? Eddie wasn’t a conquest. He meant something to me at one point in my life, surely you’ve had people who have meant something to you, or are we all just conquests to the great Grant Huffman.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he says apologetically, but the damage is already done and I can feel the disappointment surging through me.

“Then what did you mean? Lunch was going so well until you had to go and make a comment like that. Conquest. Is that all women are you to? Is this just some game you like to play with us all?”

“You think
I’m
playing games with you?”

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re doing, to be honest. First you’re pissed off at me, then you give me this great job even though I said I wasn’t going to sleep with you. You’re jacking off while we text, stripping in the office, standing up for me one minute, making me feel like shit the next. There are so many mixed signals here I barely even know who the hell you are, and that pisses me off.”

Grant holds his position, sitting firm behind his desk as he stares into my raging eyes. His look is calming, and I hate that. I hate that with just a glance he can make me feel so many different things. So many emotions. Not the least of which is complete fascination for the many layers he seems to have.

“Do you find me attractive?” he asks.

I blink. That was unexpected.

“Physically?” I say. “Yes. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t. And you know it, too. You know you’re gorgeous. I mean, look at you. Your skin, your hair, your suits, your voice, your body. All of you is just…impeccable.”

I flop back in my chair, not even feeling the slightest bit embarrassed for admitting what I just did. Instead, I feel exhausted from what seems to be endless mind games going on between us, but if I’m being honest, I have no one to blame but myself since I was the one who said I wasn’t going to shag him.

“I think you’re fucking hot,” he says matter-of-factly. “I think your body is extremely fuckable, and I’d love to know what those lips of yours feel like wrapped around my cock.”

I gasp, shifting my legs around as I begin to feel the onset of a wet patch spreading between my legs. Grant notices, too, and his words are followed up with tiny smirk.

“See?” he nods.

“See what?”

“See what I do to you?”

“Well, duh. I just said I thought you were attractive.”

“And I think you’re attractive, Raven. So why is it two people who find each other attractive can’t just fuck for the sake of fucking? I mean, you said you won’t fuck me, but why? If you’re turned on by me, then what’s the problem?”