4. A Nice Pair of Boobs Never Hurt Anything
HOW FREAKING LONG is this call going to take?
I”ve been patient. Been nice. I’ve explained every way I know how that the problem they”re having isn”t an us problem, but a them problem. This isn’t an issue with our software. This is purely a user error.
But they”re not getting it. Which would also explain why they can”t figure out how to use our software without fucking everything up.
It”s been almost two hours now of essentially banging my head against a wall and I’m over it. I”m hungry. I have to pee. And, if I”m being honest, I want to go check the monitor across the room to see if I can figure out where Vincent is now. He”s been moving around since I woke up this morning, driving all over town, and it”s killing me that I haven’t been able to peek at it. Partly because I”m nosy—I am a hacker after all—but also because I want to be a little prepared for what”s coming.
And something is coming.
The press of my bladder finally goes from urgent to painful and I lean forward, smiling as wide as I can muster at the camera on my computer. ”We”re going to need to pause this conversation for now. There’s no way to resolve this issue today. I need a couple of days to come up with another option that might be more useful to you.”
The old guy staring back at me doesn”t hide his aggravation. ”We need to know how to use the software. We spent a lot of money on this and I don’t appreciate how long it’s taking to implement this new system. If this is above your head, then surely your boss can help me. I’m confident he’ll have the knowledge it takes to solve this issue.”
It takes everything I have not to roll my eyes. What a fucking drama queen.
It”s on the tip of my tongue to tell him maybe he should ask for a refund, when my bladder offers one final warning, the painful twist letting me know my time is beyond up. ”I understand. I’ll look into your issue and get back with you.”
I don”t wait for him to respond. He”s not going to say anything worthwhile. I simply end the meeting, cutting Mr. Misogyny off just as he opens his mouth again. He can call my boss and complain. I don”t give a shit. She understands exactly what it”s like dealing with these ‘men rule the world’ types. Chances are good that if he does complain, she”ll send him a refund, cut off his access to our system, and leave him to go back to his old way of doing things. I really hope that”s what happens, because I”m confident that stooge can”t figure this shit out.
Whipping off my headset as I jump up from my chair, I race out the door of my office and into the bathroom, peeling down my yoga pants before dropping to the seat. Letting out a long sigh, I drop my head back. ”Oh, thank God.” The relief is immediate, and by the time I’m done, I’m already in a better mood.
After reassembling my work-from-home uniform, I stop at the sink to wash my hands before flipping off the light, ready to shove in a quick lunch before my next call.
I make it two steps into the hall before I stop and slowly back into the room, eyes locked on the empty towel sitting beside the sink.
I know I left it there.
Turning the light back on, I do a quick scan. Maybe I knocked the vibrator on the floor while I was suffering through my morning skincare routine or in my haste to empty my bladder of a pot’s worth of coffee. I drop to the floor and crawl around the tile, peering behind the toilet and under the vanity, but there’s no sign of my little buddy anywhere.
Where in the world would it have—
My stomach clenches. A little from fear. A little from excitement.
I practically run back to my office, hands shaking as I wake up my personal computer. I expect to see the little dot I”ve been monitoring all day planted right over my apartment.
But it”s not. It”s close though. Sneaking across my office, I crouch down to peer out the front window, looking over the parking lot outside. What sort of car would Vincent drive? Definitely something black. Probably with tinted windows. I scan the vehicles lining the lot, but none of them jump out at me.
Maybe he was here, but just left. If that’s the case, I’ll have to wait another half hour for it to ping again and show me his new location. Last night I decided switching it to every fifteen minutes might be taking shit too far, but now I”m rethinking that.
After taking a few minutes to update my program, rolling my eyes over how the dingbat I was just talking to looked down on me like I was the one too stupid to understand why he couldn’t make his shit work, I force myself to get up and go downstairs. Otherwise I”ll just sit here and stare at that damn thing until it moves again. And I’m already a little concerned my infatuation with this man has taken a hard right turn straight into obsession.
I give the main floor the same cursory sweep I did last night, even though I don”t expect Vincent to be there. He”s not, so I make myself a quick sandwich, refill my insulated cup with water, and head back upstairs. I deposit it all on my desk before taking another guilty peek at my personal monitor. It”s only been twelve minutes, so I’m not shocked when the dot hasn”t moved.
Deciding I don”t want to get caught in another uncomfortable spot, I head back to the bathroom so I can start my next call with an empty tank. I”m washing my hands when I see the edge of something peeking out from the hand towel I”d haphazardly dropped after my last visit. My heart skips a beat because I know what it is. I pull the black card out, flipping it over even though I already know what”s written on the other side.
TWO
I press my lips together because smiling doesn’t seem like the right reaction to this. I’m still appropriately terrified, but for some reason I”m also a little giddy. It”s a weird combination, and I’m not really interested in unpacking the reasons for it, so I carry the card into my office, setting it with the other one as I drop into the chair and find my little Vincent dot.
It still hasn”t moved. Maybe I fucked something up when I changed the timing on it. Or maybe he figured out what I was doing and turned his phone—
I lean closer, zooming in a little more.
Swallowing hard, the soup of emotions cooking in my gut starts to swirl. It”s not that the dot hasn”t moved, it”s just that the move was so small I didn”t really notice it at first.
My earlier hunger dissolves as I discover where Vincent is.
He’s not in the parking lot like I initially thought. He’s across the parking lot in the tiny, one-bedroom floor unit the owner’s been trying to sublet for months after making a temporary move to Florida.
The urge to run back to the window—to look for any sign of him—is strong, but I need to be smart about this. So far it seems like Vincent is just toying with me. Why? I’m not really sure. Maybe I pissed him off more than I thought and he’s here to fuck with me the way I fucked with him. Too bad it wasn’t in a more literal sense. I could use a good literal fucking right now.
But I wasn’t just messing with him before. I was serious about wanting to work for GHOST. And I’m even more serious now. I can’t deal with any more asshole clients like the one today. My bladder won’t survive it. I have to show him I can be what he needs. That I’m someone worth having around.
And it’s got to be good enough to make him overlook my little display last night since I’m pretty positive he witnessed it. Why else would he take my vibrator?
Whatever I do, it has to show that not only am I unbothered by his antics, but that I”ve got the skill it takes to work for his company. Obviously, he doubted I had it, which is why I didn”t hear from him for six months. I need to prove him wrong.
I”m not sure what prompted him to come after me now, but I”m not going to waste this opportunity. My life has been stuck for so long in one way or another, and I”m ready to break free. To stretch my wings and try to fly. Of course, I might fall, but there”s no reward without risk.
I glance at the clock, checking to see how much time I have before my next Zoom. Not nearly enough to come up with any sort of idea, and definitely not enough to prepare. I”m just gonna have to sit here, ready to peel my skin off, and wait. Hopefully this next chat won”t be as long, or frustrating, as the one before it.
Taking one final look at my Vincent dot, I stand and go to my work desk, managing to get a few bites of my sandwich down before starting the next meeting. I”m struggling to concentrate, but luckily the woman I’m helping seems to know a thing or two, and we’re able to trouble-shoot her problem in under fifteen minutes.
The second I end the meeting, I jump up and hurry to my room, digging through my closet for the other date dress I own. It”s a little fancier than the one I wore last night, but there”s a good chance Vincent saw me in that dress, and I don”t want him to think I can”t afford to buy clothes. Especially since he’s been in my condo and already probably assumes I can”t afford to buy furniture.
After whipping the dress off the hanger, I go to grab a bra and panties, but hesitate over the decision. I”m not planning to actually run into him—and even if I do, I doubt he”ll want to see what”s under my dress—but there”s something to be said for the power of panties, so I go with my initial choice, collecting the black lace set before jumping into the shower. I set a world record for scrubbing down and primping, stepping out of the bathroom in under twenty minutes, cleaned and lotioned, makeup on and hair fluffed.
Back in my closet, I hesitate again. Pumps or boots? One looks sexy but will be hazardous in the still slightly snowy parking lot, and the other will be decidedly not cute. However, I’m more likely to be able to run in the boots, and since there”s a chance Vincent”s only here because I ticked him off, being able to run seems like a smarter decision.
Once the boots are on, I grab my coat and rush to my office. I start to go back to the window I stared out earlier, but what if he goes out the back door? I’ll never see him go and waste my chance. Plus my legs will fall asleep crouching down like that, and I need to be ready to move fast.
I skip the window and go to my desk, dropping into my chair to find that little damn dot staring back at me from across the lot. He has to leave sometime. But what if he doesn”t? What if I sit here all night and that damn little dot stays put?
Then I”m fucked. I”m not sure I can come up with a plan-B. Plan-A is taking all the balls I have to follow through on.
Half an hour later, I”m starting to think I will have to come up with a plan-B, when there”s a blip on the screen. My Vincent dot has moved. It”s about two miles away, and without knowing where he”s gone or how long he”s been there outside of my fifteen-minute update window, I need to make every second count.
I run down the stairs, flinging on my coat before racing out. The sidewalk is slick, proving I made the right choice in footwear, but I’m too nervous to pat myself on the back. Picking my way along, I keep to the least icy spots as I hurry across the parking lot. If I can’t even make it across some blacktop without wiping out then I should just go back to my condo and give all this up.
And I’m not giving this up.
Most of my neighbors are on the older, quieter end of life, and I”ve never been more grateful for that than I am now. Because there”s no one outside to see me as I make a beeline for the front door of the apartment I suspect Vincent was in. It”s the only vacant unit I know of in the complex, and its location is literally right under my Vincent dot. I’m so scared, I’m struggling to swallow when I reach the door…
And realize I won’t be able to get in.
Why the fuck didn”t I figure out how I’d get inside? If I want to prove I can be a part of GHOST, I should think about the breaking part of breaking and entering.
Grabbing the knob, I grip it around the lockbox hooked in place by the management company hired to handle the sublet, praying Vincent left it unlocked, but it barely turns. ”Shit.” I twist back and forth, mostly out of frustration, rattling it around hard enough that part of the thing drops onto the toe of my boot.
I gasp, spinning to look behind me, like I expect someone to know I”ve accidentally taken the breaking part of this whole thing literally, but everything is still quiet. There’s not a judgmental expression to be seen.
I crouch to quickly pick the piece up, hoping I can put it back into place without anyone—Vincent—being able to tell I’ve assaulted the doorknob. But it”s not part of the knob that dropped. It”s the little door of the lockbox. I lift my eyes to find the key still tucked inside.
”Holy shit.” I breathe the words out, a little shocked at my luck. I quickly snag the key before putting the box back together. The door’s back in place before I remember I should have left it open so I could put everything back as it was, but that”s a problem for future me.
I unlock the knob and deadbolt, hands shaking, body vibrating with the giddy fear that’s been coursing through my veins since I discovered Vincent was here in Nashville. I duck in, closing the door behind me before relocking it. Hopefully, if Vincent gets back before I”m gone, hearing him unlock the door will give me enough time to race out the back.
Again, I pat myself on the back for picking the boots.
I take a few extra seconds to wipe my feet on the mat just inside the door. I don”t want Vincent to see wet footprints and know I was here right away. I want my visit to be a surprise. And I want to see his face when it happens.
The condo is small, which, along with the hefty price tag the owner put on it, explains why it took so long to rent. It”s still nice enough, I guess. Hardwood floors, neutral paint, and high-end light fixtures.
But the computers and monitors set up across the giant desk in the middle of the living room? Those are spectacular.
And exactly the reason I”m here.
I go to the chair in front of the display, peeling away my coat before lowering into the seat, belly tingling a little at the knowledge Vincent has sat right here. That he”s going to sit here again soon.
I lean over the keyboard, gently scooting the mouse to wake everything up before typing in his pass key. He changes it every week, but it takes me all of five minutes every Monday morning to figure it out. As the monitors flash to life around me, I ignore the fact that I have a problem where this man is concerned.
I”m shocked to find one of the screens mirroring my work computer, complete with the still open Zoom window.
That sneaky son of a—
That’s how he knew when to come into my condo today. He could see exactly when I was occupied and took full advantage.
I smile to myself—because I’m clearly not the only one who has a problem—as I set everything up, adjusting the camera on the laptop in front of me to the most flattering angle before tugging the neckline of my dress lower and shoving my tits up a little higher. It might not help my cause any, but a nice pair of boobs sure as heck never hurt anything.
Then I click record.