Page 13 of Hating the Boss

Stopping at Sarah’s desk, I jotted down the tasks I needed her to get done on Monday, leaving them in a row of colorful Post-it notes down the length of the desk. It was the usual things…

Sort files, schedule meetings, respond to emails, pick up dry cleaning, run through voicemails and make calls back, order lunch, etc. Nothing she couldn’t handle, or so I hoped.

I grabbed my black jacket from the back of my chair and slung it over my arm, preparing myself for the hot August day that waited outside. So much for this morning’s summer storm and it lasting all of five minutes.

I rode the elevator down to the parking garage and unlocked the door to my Mercedes convertible. Sliding into the driver’s seat, I brought the car to life with a press of a button, the morning’s ambient rock flowing through the speakers. Putting the car into drive, I peeled out of the parking garage and up into Manhattan traffic, heavy with others having the same idea of leaving work early.

Most people took cabs or the subway, but I liked the feeling of the steering wheel gripped in my hands. The hum of the engine. The power of being behind the wheel. I had a driver on call, a town car with a spacious backseat and a bottle of whiskey with crystal tumblers hidden in a center console, but most days I drove myself around the city.

As I turned down Ventry Street, I picked up speed, the wind blowing through my hair. It was the weekend. I might as well enjoy it. Though, I often found that hard to do. Work always trickled in the quiet and slow moments, which was probably why I rarely had time to date.

Not that I really wanted to be tied down, but I was a man with needs, so the occasional fling with a Victoria’s Secret model or a partying socialite curbed my appetite from time to time. They always wanted more, and I couldn’t give it to them, so when our short-lived ride in the press and paparazzi photos came to an end, they probably went on to shit talk about me to their friends who I couldn’t care less about.

My father was always left unimpressed with me, saying I was wasting my time. Saying it wasn’t a good look for Stellar Enterprises. I wondered if he was actually interested in my happiness, or just the way it looked for the company.

He and my mother were an anomaly. High school sweethearts who made their way to the big city, my mother following my father in his attempt to make something of himself. And he did. Most people didn’t make it past high school, let alone through massive life changes that included buying houses like it was a game of Monopoly and riding on private jets all over the world. It would seem like the ideal life, but money changed people. Fortunately, my parents changed together, as one.

Sometimes, it felt like my father had expected a similar life for me, but I came out of high school single and left college single. Now, almost twenty years later, I was still single.

By choice.

I eased my car down into the parking garage below the light brick building that towered above me, my eyes adjusting to the dim lighting as I pulled into my designated spot by the elevators. With the click of the lock and the beep of the alarm engaged, I strode for the elevator and rode up to the fourteenth floor.

The first thing I wanted to do was hit the gym, so I quickly changed out of my suit, tossing it in the pile for dry cleaning, and slid on a pair of sweats and a cut-off tee. I perused the column of glass shelves that housed my sneakers, each one lit up by overhead lighting. I grabbed a pair of white and black Nikes and slid them on. I glanced in the mirror quickly, as if I had anyone to impress in my private gym, and grabbed my AirPods on the way to the iron wrap-around stairs just off the living room.

I walked up the two stories, passing the second floor and taking in the view of the Hudson in the distance through the black-paned arched windows. In the gym, I flicked on the light switch, the overhead lighting coming to life as I stepped onto the black rubber floor of the gym.

Hopping on the treadmill for a quick warmup, I put on some classic rock and began to jog. Just out the window, I saw the ferries on the river coming in for the day, leaving a stream of white behind them. There was no better view than this.

After a fifteen-minute jog, I stepped off the treadmill and toweled off the beads of sweat that had formed on my brow. I strode for the weight rack to the right, along the brick wall, and picked up a pair of iron dumbbells. As I took myself through my normal upper body routine, my mind flicked back to Sarah, like it was a channel I kept coming back to.

What was it with this woman?

As I pressed the weights over my head with a low grunt, I couldn’t help but laugh at my own impetuousness. Had it been that long since I had been laid that I would let my cock make an executive decision at work?

I had hijacked the interview from HR simply to learn more about her personal life and then offered her the job on the spot, knowing very little about whether she was qualified. All because I thought she was hot.

It was official.

I was an idiot.

A horny idiot.

At least, for now, I had an assistant to field my calls and answer emails. If she couldn’t keep up with that and my other demands, then she’d be gone, and I would find someone else when my head was feeling a bit more sensible.

After a set of bicep curls that had my arms burning, I set the weights down on the rack with a loud clink. My muscles were screaming and already feeling sore. I grabbed my towel and slung it around my neck as I walked toward the other end of the gym that was more of a spa than anything else, with a sauna, a steam room, a massage room, and a cold plunge pool.

I turned the knob on the sauna, bringing the room to life with its red glow. Stripping down, I stepped inside and laid a towel down against the wood that was warming up. The growing heat felt like a hug around my muscles as I sat down and leaned my head back against the wall. Closing my eyes, I tried to relax my mind. My body.

The body was the easy part. The mind, not so much.

I pushed thoughts of work away, but one thought remained constant.

Sarah.

The cream dress she wore, hugging her petite body like a glove. Her curves sloping inward and outward in all the right places like the dunes of a desert, smooth and never-ending. The peek of cleavage my eyes took in during the interview. Her thumb in her mouth as she tried to wipe the coffee away.

I felt my cock twitch between my legs, growing harder with the visual snapshots I had taken this morning. I smiled to myself, closing my eyes and reaching for it. This was the great thing about having a private gym. The palm of my hand was coated in a thin layer of sweat from the heat of the sauna, as I wrapped it firmly around the base of my cock.