I nodded. I could feel it now, not bad but definitely there. I did not mind, the discomfort was strangely life affirming and necessary.
“Then let’s shower and sleep,” Jason looked at the ravished bed. “New sheets too I think.”
We showered separately. I took my time, lathering my hot skin with a surprisingly pleasant shower crème, not the kind of product I expected to find in a man’s bathroom. Afterwards we slept naked, side by side, occasionally Jason touched me in the night, but I did not think he was awake. I was strangely sleepy but unable to fall into a deep sleep. The excitement would not be laid to rest. Sex was back in my life and the provider was someone quite out of the ordinary.
Somewhere there was an alarm clock going off and the beep was not familiar to me. I woke with a start, the previous evening flooded back in a montage of surreal images. He was not next to me and I could hear the sound of cascading water. I wondered what he looked like covered in steamy hot water. Out of the bathroom he stepped, towel round his waist, wet darkened yellow hair and small drips of water trickling down his smooth chest. He looked younger that his actual years. My Jason Lucas, I ventured to claim briefly, then dismissed the notion. The morning’s sexy posturing had nothing to offer me. Sex was now off the agenda.
“Morning, Gemma. We need to get a move on. You’ll need dropping off at your apartment for clean clothes. I can drive you there and you can make your own way to work. There should be enough time.”
Jason was very business-like now. The man who peered over my shoulder in his office was back. I jumped up and started to find my evening dress from the floor somewhere with my tossed aside knickers.
It was only later, when I was reflecting on the evening, I realised how little was said the following morning. He did not refer to our sex as if it had been a shared dream rather than reality. No post-mortem had occurred after a separate showers and the rush to get to work had pre-occupied our thoughts.
Dressed, we stood at his kitchen’s breakfast bar and gulped down coffee and buttered muffins. I did not have time to take in my surroundings. There was no grand tour of his house. Last night all I had seen was his hallway, corridors and broad staircase as I followed him to his bedroom. I barely recollected the interior and now all I had to add to my scant album was his kitchen.
He was checking his mobile for messages and seemed thoroughly uninterested in my presence. Ten minutes later, we were ready to go, leather briefcase in his hand and driver summoned to ferry us to my apartment. Sitting in the back of his car, he turned to me as if remembering me from his distance past. Reaching for his briefcase, he pulled out a few sheets of printed paper.
“I need you to sign this,” Jason waved the typed document in front of me. “It's a confidentiality agreement.”
“But, Jason, didn’t I sign one when I started working for you?” I was puzzled by his request.
“Yes, but that one was about company secrets, this one is about me,” he leafed through the pages and it was certainly a lengthy document. “I’m a rich man and the status can make me vulnerable to little girls with wicked ideas,” he sounded stern, like a strict headmaster.
“Oh I see. This is all hush-hush.”
“Very hush-hush, I don’t fuck employees, so you are an exception to my rule. A big exception.” He handed me a pen.
I scribbled my name at the end of the both copies, folding one and putting it in my clutch purse.
“Good,” he said putting his copy away and then he returned to his deep thoughts until his mobile started to ring.
The rest of the journey he was on the phone, early morning calls to whoever was out of bed at that time of the day bombarding him with facts and figures. Plenty of people it would seem. I was not a morning person and I struggled to collect my rambling thoughts into a cohesive place. We arrived at my meagre one-bed apartment, which was located on the ground floor. As the car pulled up outside the building, it dawned on me that I had not given the driver my East End address nor provided him with directions.
For a few seconds, I was alarmed that the location of my flat was known to Jason. He was a man of considerable wealth and I surmised he would not spend a night having sex with a new woman, even an employee, without doing a check on my circumstances. I could have lied about being single or perhaps I was a secret blackmailer. All the same, I was unsettled that he knew where I lived. I had never invited any man back to my home or told them my address. My little pad was a sanctuary, a very important place of escape. Would Jason respect my privacy as he had asked me to protect his?
The rent for the pitiful accommodation swallowed up virtually all of my wages after I jacked in my last better-paid job. After seeing Jason’s mansion, my flat’s location and upkeep were especially pathetic in comparison. I was close to being embarrassed about my status until I sat up st
raight and reminded myself the little abode was mine. I had worked hard to afford having my own living space in an expensive city. Its particular advantage was being a direct bus ride to work.
“You can catch a bus from here?” asked Jason. The wonders of public transport were not on his radar.
“Yes. A street away,” I gestured with my arm.
The car door was opened by the driver and I took one last look at Jason. He cocked his head to one side to have a better view of me.
“Bye, Gemma Marshall. Have a good day,” he said with a cool detached voice.
That was that, no parting kiss or hug. I said nothing back as I was stunned into silence by his lack of personal touch. An evening of erotic, mind-blowing sex. The encounter was nothing else to him. Why was I deflated, I should had seen this romantically vacant game coming a mile off. After all, I was an expert in them.
Chapter 5
Three days past and I heard nothing from Jason. No phone call, emails or photocopier encounter. The first day of the new week, the Monday, I was on an emotional high. I bounded into my communal office like Tigger on amphetamines and took everyone by surprise by being chatty and engaging. I did not mention Jason, just managing to stem the ardent desire to spill the beans and let everyone know I had been fucked by the CEO. The need to maintain secrecy and good conduct kept the urge at bay. Packing my secret love life away out of sight, I implied the concert had instilled the good humour in me. The explanation was met with obvious disbelief from the others in my room.
Penny laughed at me as I spoke with passion about being surrounded by voices in beautiful harmony.
“Really, Gemma, you need to get a life. When was the last time you were laid, hey?” she asked and I blushed with a shrug of my shoulders. The comment sent me scurrying back to my desk and I quickly immersed my head in work.
The next day I began to feel the deflation. I did not bounce about the office on my sexual high. I said little and focused on my long list of outstanding tasks. My original scenario was correct. I had been his game for the night and he had enjoyed me and moved on. I was not the innocent party though, I had used him to wake up my libido and stoke my neglected fires of lust. It would be wrong to accuse him of leading me astray. He had asked me for a fuck and I had given it to him. We had both had our pleasure zones served and the confidentiality agreement added to the sense of being nothing more than a one-night stand. He may not have his little black book but I suspected he kept mental notches of his conquests on his headboard as an alternative.