Over the next hour, we made out like teenagers. At the stroke of midnight, while our friends blew noisemakers and cheered to bring in the New Year, she was still grinding her pussy against my clothed cock.
"Happy New Year," I breathed against her neck.
At the stroke of midnight, you're supposed to kiss the person that you want to keep kissing.
Seven months later . . .
"Morning, Beverly." I hurriedly turned the knob and rushed into my office before my administrative assistant could respond to my greeting. I had a busy day ahead and wasn't in the mood for small talk.
Most people would be genuinely interested in chatting with coworkers, or at least, would understand that it was important to pretend to enjoy it. I wasn't that great of an actor. Besides, Beverly knew that I was practically comatose until my first cup of coffee. The best part of waking up was a strong cup of dark roast poured from a French press. Emails and to-do lists made little sense without it.
Like clockwork, my best friend and the Director of Application Development, Hunter Reeves, knocked on the door. It was time for our daily status update.
"Open. Come in.” I waved him into my office.
"Mornin’, Hoss." Hunter closed the door and sat at the small conference table. He dropped his leather portfolio with a loud slap.
"Good morning. We have an exciting day ahead of us.” I grabbed a notepad from my desk and walked over to the mini-fridge. "Water or coffee?”
"Water, please,” Hunter answered.
I pulled out two bottles of water before taking a seat at the conference table. I pushed one over to Hunter.
"Before we get into it, how was your weekend? Do anything or anyone exciting?" He flashed an enormous grin and waggled his brows. He twisted the cap off the bottle and took a long swallow.
"Saturday, I did a hard five miles with the running club. I shaved a minute off my mile. After, we hit up a taproom for post-run beers and fries. I spent the rest of the weekend catching up on work."
"You work too much. Enjoy life. I drove home to babysit Glover. Em and Tanner didn't tell me the kid couldn't have dairy products. I fed him an ice cream sandwich. He loved it, but I changed diapers all night. He filled that Diaper Magician trashcan."
"Still ready for a kid?"
"Absolutely. When the kid wasn't shitting, he was a boss. I bought him a bow and arrow set—some kid's toy from The Bargain Spot. I showed him how to shoot it. Right out the gate, he pulled back the bow and let the arrow go. It sailed across the room and hit just short of the fucking bullseye. At eighteen months! Dad and I predict he'll be ready for deer season by the age of nine. He's hilarious. He discovered his dick, couldn't keep his little hands off of it. If I didn't know any better, I would think he was mine."
Pride rippled through his voice, and his chest puffed out a little. My friend was the only twenty-something who actively sought the right woman to settle down with. For him, the perfect woman would clean the house, vacuum, and fold laundry, all while wearing starched dresses. Each day after a long day of work—for him, not her—she would greet him with a martini in her hand. They would have a three-course dinner. Once they finished dessert, he would grant her the pleasure of sucking him off until he fell asleep. Nine months after marriage, she would pop out the first child, a boy. Shortly afterward, there would be a slew of deer hunting and football playing Reeves boys.
In a city brimming with modern women, Hunter encountered difficulty finding one willing to live out his chauvinistic fantasy. I worried because he hadn't prepared himself for the likelihood of dating a woman dedicated to her career. The very nature of compromise meant one person would sacrifice his desires to make the other happy. It was unlikely that Hunter would be the one who would concede on his dreams.
The reality of give-and-take was all too familiar to me. I'd sacrificed everything for Colette while receiving little in return. After three months of dating, she pushed me away, leaving me with damaged pride and a broken heart.
"Gunnar's excited for the weekend. He drove to St. Louis and picked up a half dozen pairs of ripped skinny jeans and a pair of Louis Vuitton sneakers. He'll look like a douche, but you only turn twenty-one once." Hunter laughed. "Shit, I didn't know Louis Vuitton made tennis shoes."
"Your favorite brand is Carhartt."
"Damn right."
"We'll make sure that he's shit-faced and gets laid."
Hunter winced at my bluntness. My best friend wasn't comfortable with his youngest brother being anything but a perfect gentleman.
"Did you catch up on the email from Samir?" he asked, changing the subject. "The automated robotic processes lost connection and threw error messages. The procedures are all screwed up. The entire offshore team spent half of the night troubleshooting and fixing data. We lost a day of testing. That puts the rollout in jeopardy."
"Shit. Why didn't Samir call the analyst on duty?"
"Hell if I know. Kalinda reviewed the backlog. Some items may need to roll over to the next cycle."
"Shit! Shit! Shit! I'd hoped to meet the deadline so that we can concentrate on the audit."
"I know." He fiddled with the edge of his notepad. "It's time for your motivational speech on putting in a little extra effort."
He wanted me to ask the developers and testers to put in more hours. I didn't mind being the bad guy—often, it was necessary. A lot was riding on this audit. So, if I had to ride herd on this project, that's what I'd do.
"Me? You're too big of a pussy to do it?"
"You are the King of Dynex. Half the office loves you while the other half can't stand you. No matter which side they stand on, they'll work their fingers to the bone for you." He laughed, the sound booming through my office.
"I'll stop by the daily status meeting."
The Scientist's Companion, Dynex's number one product offering, was my primary responsibility. The e-commerce site was not only our product catalog, but a collection of scientific articles, research papers, and gene catalogs. The website's reach spanned across the globe.
During my first year of employment at Dynex, I'd come up with the idea to provide scientific content alongside suggested products. The innovation had catapulted my career along an express path. In eight short years, I'd worked my way from a web developer to part of the executive team. In private, the team frowned upon my self-promotion and arrogance, but they could not deny my talent.
"Have you checked out the consultants from ER Wallace? They've brought out the big guns."
"Really?"
"Yeah. The team's profiles are impressive. I'm concerned that if they inspect under the hood, then we're screwed. Look at how we responded last night. We'll look like morons."
"Don't worry about that. Their feedback and recommendations could be invaluable to the department. Maybe Nic and Jeff will get serious about increasing our budget."
"I'm not holding my breath."
"Neither will I."
There was an unusual silence. I shouldn't care about the future of Dynex. In a little over a year, I'll leave the dysfunction behind and branch out on my own.