If there's one thing I hate more than anything else, it's work, and when I have to bring it home. Today is one of those days, and I honestly feel like shooting myself in the head just to get out of it.
"I swear.. This is the last time I change the damned menu," I curse to myself, scribbling furiously against my notepad.
I own a restaurant, and more often than not, I hate my job. I work with idiots, and my employees never seem to know what they're doing. Nothing goes my way. The only benefit of it seems to be that Valerie, my best friend, is my business partner. She has a low tolerance for bullshit too, so we make a pretty nasty team.
The simple thought of the only silver lining to my dark cloud distracts me, and my mind wanders like it always does when she makes it into my head. The tight skirts she wears to work, paired dangerously with a set of fishnets every so often. She's a piece of work, a bitch, a firecracker, and she makes my life so fucking interesting that I can't seem to get enough.
There's a loud rap on my window behind me. My heart leaps into my throat and I spin around in my chair, eyes wide. The simple fear and shock on my face is enough to curl Val's pouty lips into a smirk, and a sneer moves over my face as I lean over and undo the latch.
"I told you to stop fucking doing that," I complain as she does her typical routine of crawling through my office window instead of using the front door. From this alone, I'm convinced she knows I have the hots for her.
"Why would I do that when it scares the shit out of you every time?" she jokes, nearly kicking me in the face before fumbling to the floor. I can't help but look under her skirt and notice she's wearing her lace panties that are coloured the same blue as the streaks in her hair. Shit.
It takes me a moment to respond, and I promptly prop my leg in my lap; that outta hide anything suspicious.
"Because I just might toss you over my knee one of these days," I growl under my breath, eyes narrowing the smallest bit as the cutest blush flushes her cheeks.
Despite her off the wall and outlandish behaviour, I've always noticed that she's shy, and a bit of a prude; any mention will make her cheeks sprout with the most adorable pink.
"Like you have the guts," she fires back with the slightest waiver in her voice before she leans over me and looks at the papers I was mulling over. An obvious deflection.
"You're not liking the new layout, are you?" she asks, that over confident rasp lingering in my head as I imagine her repeating my name over and over.
"No. I hate it. It's not structured enough, and.." I trail off, eye drifting over to her breasts, which are nearly in my face. I can tell she's not wearing a bra, and that she's either really fucking cold, or oddly aroused, simply because her nipples are pressed right up against her blouse, making little impressions on the fabric.
"..And you never wear a bra," I end up pointing out, stopping there, even though I want to go on and tell her what I think about it.
Her face flares once again. "Stop looking at my tits. Hannah's not gunna like that."
Whatever. Right now, I don't care about what Hannah would like. My whole marriage has always been about what Hannah would like, and right now, I want what Jacob would like.
"Why would I do that.." I say, repeating what she said to me earlier, turning my chair to face her and reach out a daring hand, fingers tugging at the top button on her shirt. "..when it makes you blush every time?"
I stop just short of ripping the button out, knowing that she's going to expect me to. I fuck with her often, simply because it bugs the crap out of her.
But again, I'm interrupted, this time by something I'm not eager to see.
"Jacob?" a voice calls from the hall, footsteps quietly making their way towards my office door.
Just like before, my eyes widen. I'm not about to get caught with my hand in my co-worker's shirt, so it whips around, latching on to Valerie's arm before dragging her down and shoving her under my desk, with the obvious grunts of complaint coming from her as her head clocks against the back of the desk.
There's been so many times where I've fantasized about having her right here, just like this, cornered between my legs with no other option, but without the added threat of my wife catching me with another woman.
I slide back to my desk, heart thumping out of my chest, Val's face inches from my crotch, and pretend to work just as Hannah opens the door.
"Jacob.." I've always hated how she uses my full name. "..did you want to go out tonight? Maybe for dinner or something?"
