Mean Business Part 2
Chapter 1 Tom
There are several small, unexpected issues that emerge when your love life switches dramatically from zero to one hundred and you suddenly find you actually
have one
in a matter of hours. All relationships come with their difficulties, especially when we are effectively building this vital emotional foundation primarily while one is on the office clock.
And the change is not subtle. No longer do you feel that you are just the subordinate "gopher boy". All of a sudden, you carry the weight of mild significance and you can see it clearly in her eyes, and in more ways than you can expect. One of which is having amazing sex with your boss.
That second week the relationship continued, it started off that it was very much still after hours, and still on her conference table. At least we have now remembered to shut the office door. I am no longer surprised when I get called in at the end of the day to find Emma lying there completely naked grinning happily already in position, her chubby legs invitingly wide apart already waiting for me. I have to hurry to get my trousers down. She soon takes over.
Then things moved on. The most interesting and exciting change is that recently she has invited me back to her place. It's not just the change in venue that makes life interesting day to day, but it's actually her. There is a noticeable variation in the way she now looks and smiles at you. She actually cares.
Previously the acknowledgement of choice was a fierce scowl or a penetrating harsh stare of disgust as she tried to look down her nose. Now could be argued she is ever so briefly smiling flirtatiously, or a little longer when you are alone in the office with her. Nor is the way that when at her place she locks her glossy red lips on mine and hurriedly undresses herself and drops my trousers, and then finally releases her grip as she willingly lies out on her sofa and with a big grin as she spreads wide her chunky thighs just for you. Nor is it that you have been so close to each other your worn shirts now smell of her delightful perfume.
Firstly, you find out all her habits. Bad and good. There was one that I already knew about, for example that she likes to drink in the evenings. For the last few months, I have been in charge of her online ordering. The three bottles of red and three bottles of white wine along with a bottle of Prosecco every week goes in her shopping. That was a big hint. That was only matched by the obvious need for her to drink multiple coffees in the morning. As previously she would claim the real reason to need them to properly function was after a "busy late-night working".
No, the real shock for me is that she is a secret smoker. I literally didn't know, I thought I'd known everything about her. I assumed I knew everything. I found out that after a couple of glasses of wine when she is comfortable and curled up on the sofa she likes to light up. I was genuinely shocked to see the pack of Marlboro Lights and pink lighter on her coffee table along with a rather full, smelly, glass dish full of brown stained extinguished cigarettes. I even questioned if there was a man about to appear. Surprised as I was for the equipment being there. "I am not a real smoker; I'm honestly not addicted!" She declared when I questioned it. I am not convinced, almost sure that she is. But saying that I've never seen her mention a need for a cigarette in the last three years we have worked together. I just had to accept the situation.
As that first evening I was in her house rolled on, there was suddenly a strange atmosphere. She became prickly to my touch, nervous about something, she couldn't sit still. I thought it was potentially me doing something wrong. I even assumed It was something else when she got up and disappeared into the downstairs toilet. The problem resolved itself when she came back from the bathroom. I was in the process of enjoying the view. I couldn't help but watch her as her braless breasts bounced around uncontained in her pyjama top as she shuffled along.
I assumed I
had
done something wrong when with a world weary sigh she sat down at the other end of the sofa. All of sudden I felt ostracised, as if I had said something inappropriate. However, it very quickly dawned on me, where she was sitting, she was now much closer to her glass ashtray. Emma turned and looked back at me, her face cracking a little, forcing an unconvincing smile, gently shrugged her shoulders, her face was all apologetic and then she apologised out loud as she curled defensively up in a ball. Her pink pyjamas stretched and looked tight against her thighs as I watched and followed her hand as it reached out to the pack and lighter that was balanced on top of one of her unread glossy magazines. I gulped as I watched on as she placed the cigarette between her lips and then flicked her lighter. This was completely alien, not something that I had expected from her. My strict boss lighting up?
I wasn't going to say anything about it. Who am I to complain? I know now when she wants a smoke. From then on, I hear "Sorry" each time she reaches for her pack. I couldn't help but watch on and stare when she first lit up. You could see on her face she was happier once she had dragged on the filter. Two streams of smoke swirled up, one from the cigarette itself and the other from her lips as she forced the smoke from her lungs. I did my best not to cough as the wave of the potent smell permeated the room. The whole thing was a strange situation. To have her at the other end of the sofa for those few minutes. I had to chuckle at her frantically waving the exhaled smoke around the room trying to disperse it. I think all she did was wave the smoke in my direction.
Apparently, she has never really smoked with company. But as I was there all night, she couldn't get out of it. You could see on her face and her actions beforehand that there had been something gnawing at her. Plus, in her defence to be fair, she only smoked two the whole evening. Not sure you could really claim she was a real smoker. That said in subsequent nights she has been a little more frequent lighting up. I see it as a sign that Emma has relaxed in my presence. As she drinks so much wine I couldn't tell by taste what she had done. Smell that was a different matter.
She rather defensively told me that she is trying to lose some weight and apparently "they" say smoking helps. From my point of view the numerous packs of chocolate cookies, chocolate bars, and multipack crisps that I order for her every week, was slightly counterintuitive to that idea and weight loss progress. After dinner we had also demolished a bag of tortilla chips with a nice tangy salsa sauce together this evening. I knew that I should not say anything. Just nod, smile and agree it's the best way forward.
Apart from all of that the second biggest issue is the now obvious lack of boundaries between home life and work life. They have really started to blur. Last Thursday morning she really didn't appreciate me getting up to go to work "on time". She was seriously groggy. Then at work what I now know as hungover Emma was of course ordering me around as much as she could. It's her job. I am used to the pressure. I do think that on Thursday evening she ratcheted it up a level, I don't think it was my fault she opened the second bottle of wine at nine o'clock. One small change at work I have noticed is that she has certainly also become a little more tactile with me. If we are standing close to each other, there is a gentle touch on the arm or shoulder that shouldn't happen, it only lasts a second or two. The situation never used to occur. I am convinced that someone will notice the interaction at some point. I am sure even if she is maintaining her bitchiness. In fact, I get the impression it has been ramped up. To counter the fun, I am getting later. It's almost as if she is belittling me to ensure that I am not getting any extra benefits at work. The compensation is the pleasure I might get at five thirty.
As I have found another advantage. Even though we are at her "home" I can actually be the boss. For someone in their mid-thirties, and living on her own for nearly a decade, and is a manager in a highly profitable business- Emma is completely useless at being domesticated. It explains that without someone else's organisation she always runs late or forgets things. SHE relies on others to help her.
Currently I am still not living with her. We haven't spoken about it. But I know it's far too soon. For the first two weeks we had not been together out of the office. It was only last week that I got invited home with her. It was not only Wednesday, but Friday night too. I'm not sure yet that I could be a boyfriend to Emma. I have so far spent most of the week or more at my mums. It is clear that I will stay over only when it suits Emma. Last Friday she put in our mutual diary "530 Post work Friday meeting". I know what that means. I really don't think I am her boyfriend or anything like that, this tends to be just a Friday and Saturday night thing. By Sunday afternoon she wants time for herself, I tend to get shooed away. Plus, the occasional Wednesday night. She can't cope with me being there permanently. I understand that. For so long of her life she has been alone. Sharing her personal space with someone is difficult.
That said, going to house on an evening with her was exciting. Firstly, she actually drove me. It was strange leaving my car in the office carpark. It was surprisingly messy there. Then once at her place. She stopped me hanging around awkwardly in the lounge and let me watch her strip naked, she smiled happily as she kissed me, and then got to enjoy her strutting naked around the bedroom for a few minutes before hunting in a pile of clothes. Eventually finding what she wanted to wear. It was moments like that where I felt special that I could stand there and watch her ass and fat stomach jiggle, and her breasts swing and sway as she focused on what she was doing and gently hummed as she hunted. Watching was mesmerising. She was totally Ignoring me as she changed into something more comfortable. The outfit very much resembled pyjamas. Then a quick visit to the kitchen to open the bottle of wine. Getting our glasses filled up, she then swiftly slumped on the sofa. Which I found out was her preferred evening location. She doesn't really want to get back up to cook. As she was again too busy still on her phone, drinking her wine and lighting the odd cigarette.
Like the rest of her house, Emma's bedroom is not what I envisaged. You would think it would be an area of calm, Joss sticks, clean lines, fluffy cushions, funky prints on the wall and everything straight. No, it's the opposite, it's an utter tip. There is a print on the wall but there are also dirty wine glasses, coffee mugs and food wrappers on every horizontal surface. Then her clothes are geologically filed on every free surface, mainly creating a chair and "Floordrobe". I don't believe she actually knows how to use her washing machine. She just re-wears things or buys new clothes. Putting the worn clothes on top of the ever-growing unsteady pile at the end of the day. There are items of discarded underwear everywhere. Bras and panties just dropped where they were taken off. In the mornings her modus operandi for wearing something clean is getting new items of clothing out of last weekend's shopping bag.
The kitchen really does not fare much better. There is a mountain of unopened letters next to the toaster. It's a surprise that she can use it without them catching fire. The sink and counter are piled up with dishes. She had jumped in the shower, and I had started to prepare dinner. Before we ate, we played a game. "Guess the best before date" on some of her items in her kitchen cupboard.
There are plenty of fresh ingredients in the fridge that I had ordered the previous week, but in the cupboards, not so much. The more I hunted, the more concerning it became.
I was thinking of making a quick chicken and pasta dish.
"Tomato Pesto in or out of date?"
"In?"
"September 2016"
"Oh, come on, surely not?"
"Three bags of self-raising flour?"
"Oh, three? I bought that many? Definitely in date?"
