Chapter 6 #4
“I know what you must be thinking.” She gets off her stool and walks over to the plant. “It’s small now, but with lots of love and devotion to its growth, this fiddle leaf fig will soon be a blooming fiend taking over this very space.”
Those three leaves will need a lot more than some love and devotion.
She got me the Charlie Brown version of a fiddle leaf fig tree, not the monstrous, girthy log of a tree I expected.
“It’s incredibly small,” I say. “Especially for the space. I was thinking of something that would be bigger, more . . . mature.”
“And I thought that too, but Cahutta at the nursery said it would feel more satisfying to build a connection with a plant at such a young stage in its journey and watch it flourish throughout its life and yours.”
“Cahutta?” I ask with a quirked brow.
“Yes, he was amazing. I spent about an hour and a half just walking through the nursery with him, talking about different plants. He offered to meet up with me later to go over the intricacies of taking care of a fiddle leaf fig, but I told him I was busy. Gave him my number, though, so he could call later and fill me in.”
Well, Cahutta is fucking dead.
“Call later? Wylie, you realize he was hitting on you, right?”
She pauses and thinks about it. “God, you think so?”
“Uh, yeah. Who the fuck spends that much time talking about a plant?”
“I just thought he was being nice. Huh.” She taps her chin.
“Well, I hope he was. This girl could use a wild night.” She clears her throat and picks up the minuscule plant.
I swear, it’s smaller than Sherman. And here I was, about to brag about my giant tree in my apartment, and this is what I have to work with?
Christ. “I think we should set him on the coffee table for now. Don’t need him getting trampled. ”
“Yeah, don’t want that,” I say while grabbing the back of my neck. What a disappointment.
And to add salt to the wound, apparently, she’s fishing for a wild night.
Step into my bedroom, and I’ll give you exactly what you’re looking for.
“I’m sorry it’s not bigger. I can see your disappointment. I can go back and talk to Cahutta, let him know we’re looking for something more mature and not necessarily a human/plant bonding experience.”
“Nope, this works,” I say, not wanting her to go back to that nursery. Fucking Cahutta. Last thing I need is for her to speak to some romanticizing plant man who she brings back to her nanny hole.
“Are you sure? I don’t mind going back.”
“No, don’t. Let’s just focus on the tasks you need to complete. Because I have more. And you need to pack for me.”
“Don’t worry, I already did that. You’re all set to go.” She wiggles her eyebrows. “Even took it upon myself to pack you some condoms and a vibrator, in case you wanted to go solo.” Jesus. “Wasn’t sure how many condoms you’d need. I figured one a night because I wasn’t sure how long you could go?—”
“All night,” I say, that irritation clawing up me once again. “I can go all fucking night.”
With a surprised expression, she says, “Oh, good for you. With your age, I wasn’t sure what your stamina was like.”
“I’m not that goddamn old,” I say in a snappier tone, which of course only makes her smile more. Seems like my pain is her pleasure.
“Well, either way. I can add more if you’d like.”
“Don’t plan on fucking anyone while I’m away,” I say as I move down toward my bedroom to find my suitcase on the bed with the packing cubes spread out and full.
“Don’t plan on fucking anyone?” she asks. “I don’t think that’s a very good decision.”
“Why not?” I ask.
“Well, not to point out the obvious, but it seems like you’re very tense at the moment. Your shoulders are practically kissing your ears. Whenever I see that much tension in a man, I know they need to let loose.”
“I’m fine.”
“Ehhh, once again, not to overstep here, but I care to disagree. Maybe there’s something I can do to help.”
Uh, yeah, there is.
Take your shirt off.
Take your pants off.
Disrobe everything and get on your fucking knees.
Let me wrap your hair around my fist and guide that sweet mouth over my cock.
Let me fuck your mouth until you gag.
That’s what you can fucking do.
“I’m fine,” I say, turning away from her. I look at all the packing cubes and sift through them. “Why did you pack so many boxer briefs?” Focus on something else other than her plump and pouty lips.
“Because you can never have enough underwear. Plus you like to sleep in them, so I figured you would want to have extras on hand.”
Smart. Didn’t think about that.
I pick up a matching sweatsuit. “What’s this?”
“A sweatsuit,” she replies.
“I see that, but why did you pack it?”
“Because I thought you could use a style update.” How dare she. My style is impeccable. “I was going through your social media videos, and some of the casual outfits you wear lack some modern Gen Z appeal.”
Is she talking about tucking my sweatpants into my tube socks? Because I fucking refuse.
REFUSE!
“That’s because I’m a millennial,” I say.
“Yes, I know. It’s obvious.” Uh, pardon me? “I thought I’d spice it up a bit. Give you something to wear that the kids can relate to. Also, how do you feel about a bolo tie?”
“Not a fan,” I say.
“Oof, good thing I asked,” she says as she reaches into one of the packing cubes and pulls it out.
Where the hell did she even get that?
“You know, maybe I should just pack myself.”
“No,” she says quickly. “I can handle it.” She places her hand on my arm, and I nearly come.
Yeah, you read that correctly. COME! “This is what we call a teachable lesson. I’ve learned to pack lots of condoms because you can go all night, bravo to you, and no bolo tie.
See, making mental notes now. But look at what else I packed.
I think I did a great job with the rest. Your toiletry bag is in the bathroom ready to go, but I left out your toothbrush because you still need to use that as well as your deodorant and cologne, which I might have sniffed.
It smells good, in case you were wondering.
From the lady’s perspective, great choice. ”
Pheromones will do that.
“Thanks,” I say. Feeling awkward— again— I move into the bathroom and check out the toiletry bag, which seems to be all packed up correctly.
“See, I can do this. Just give me a chance. I know working with an assistant might be weird, but this is my first time, and I’m still learning. I promise I can do this for you.”
I can see the desperation in her eyes, hear it in her voice, and it makes me feel that much worse because I know that she wants this to prove to her dad that she can handle everything.
Meanwhile, I’m in an epic battle of keeping my hands to myself and trying to sabotage her simultaneously by being her dad’s puppet. Guilt consumes me all over again.
“Yeah, you did a great job with the toiletry bag,” I say and move back into the bedroom, wanting to make her feel better.
“And yeah, this sweatsuit outfit might look good.” I look through the cubes and see the vibrator that she chose, a simple flat-faced one that works great against my balls.
“And my favorite vibrator,” I say. “Good job.”
“That’s your favorite?” she asks. “Interesting. I thought it might be, but I was just guessing. And I know what you’re thinking.
Is it weird that I know what vibrator my male boss might like?
The answer is no. I think personal assistants have to get on up there.
” She motions her hands in an upward motion.
“Really know everything about their boss to make sure to please them as best as possible. So I’m glad I know about your condoms and vibrators. Aren’t you glad?”
Oh yeah, really fucking glad. It makes me so goddamn happy.
Especially since I’m not allowed to use any of it on you.
Couldn’t be happier.
“Yeah, I guess so,” I reply uncomfortably.
“Okay, so this was a great learning moment.” She clasps her hands together. “I also set up your backpack in your office, but I wasn’t sure what you needed.”
I walk out of the bedroom and into the office, where I see a few Post-it notes from her on my desk.
The first reads a social media schedule that she must have written down for both of us.
The second one is a note that just says highlighters.
The third is one name: Patty Ford.
Confused, I point at the Post-it and say, “What’s this?”
She glances down, and then I watch her cheeks blush as she picks it up and crumples it in her hand.
“Uh, nothing. Just a note to myself that I forgot to pick up. Oh, and here’s my highlighter one.
Sorry about that. I wasn’t working here if you were wondering.
I was just writing you a note and realized I forgot to grab my two notes. ”
“Not a problem,” I reply, wanting to know who the hell Patty Ford is. I make a mental note to look it up when she leaves.
“Anyway, I have everything ready to go in your backpack and added some snacks. I know you get them from the team, but just in case you get hungry.”
“Great. Thanks.” I turn toward her and say, “Good job, Wylie.”
With pride, she puffs her gorgeous chest. “Thank you.” She follows that with a yawn and says, “Well, if that’s all, I need to get to bed. I’m exhausted.”
Actually, I could use you in the bedroom for a moment. Won’t take too long. Just need to suck on your tits is all.
“Yeah, sure.” I shift on my feet. “That’s it.”
“Great. Well, good luck on your away trip. Text me if you need anything, and I’ll keep working hard over here on your behalf.” She smiles brightly. “Good night . . . Mr. Posey .”
I roll my eyes, causing her to laugh. “Good night, Miss Wood .”
“Ooo.” She pretends to shiver. “I like the sound of that.” Chuckling, she takes off, and I follow her into the kitchen, listening for the click of her door before I turn out all the lights and head into my bedroom, where I quickly get ready for bed.
I’ll pack the cubes in my suitcase in the morning, so I set them to the side and strip out of my clothes to nothing before slipping under my sheets. I open my Google search on my phone and type in the name Patty Ford.
Maybe it’s a long-lost friend or maybe a travel blogger. Maybe someone she . . .
The Google results pop up, and all of them are X-rated.
No fucking way.
I click on the website under Patty Ford, and I’m immediately met with a hot brunette with huge tits and a curvy ass.
The banner picture on the website is of who I’m going to assume is Patty, completely naked and on her knees. Her hand and arm cover all the important parts, but fuck, is she hot. I scroll down and find videos of her masturbating and live sessions where you can get off with her.
Holy shit.
I wet my lips and explore the website a little more, feeling myself go hard with every picture and video I come across.
And sure, she’s hot.
But what’s really getting me hard is the idea that Wylie was interested in this website as well.
And there could be two reasons why: for her own personal pleasure, or for research. Either way, I fucking like it a lot.
I settle into my pillow and run my hand down my stomach, ready to grip my cock just as a text appears on my phone.
Fuck.
Talk about a cock block and an instant way to deflate things.
Coach Wood: Make her get bagels again tonight.
My stomach clenches, and I squeeze my eyes shut.
Fuck. That’s the last thing I want to ask her to do, especially since I didn’t eat any of them today.
Levi: But she already got some, and I didn’t eat any.
Coach Wood: Does it look like I care, Posey? Make her get the bagels again.
Jesus Christ, why is he being such a dick?
Coach Wood: Don’t let me down, Posey.
Yeah, hearing you loud and clear, you ass.
Levi: Okay.
Groaning inwardly and completely out of the mood now, I pull up my text thread with Wylie.
If she didn’t think I was an asshole before, she sure as hell is going to think it now.