She flinches as if I delivered a real blow. “Great,” she says, a mean smile tipping up the corners of her mouth. “We’re on the same page. You don’t touch me. I don’t complain about who you sleep with. We never even have to see each other.”
Oh no. That’s not happening. I may have agreed to never fuck her, but if I can’t see her? I can’t spend any time with her? That’d be actual torture. I’d smell her in my house, see traces of her existence in discarded shoes or empty dishes in the sink, but she’d be like some fucking ghost? No way.
“The price of you getting to stay your pristine virginal self is dinner with me every night at 7. If you miss, the deal’s off.”
“Fine.” She spins around on a pair of two thousand dollar red bottom satin shoes I bought.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“It’s not seven, is it?” she says without even turning back.
And that’s how it’s been for five long years. My dick’s been at a state of half arousal for the entire time. I’ve spent more hours whacking my shaft alone in my shower in those five years than I ever did as a teenager. My fantasies are upgraded. That might be something to do with it. I’ve had her in every way possible. I’ve shoved my dick into her mouth while she’s on her knees. I’ve fucked her up against the floor-to-ceiling glass windows in my office. I’ve eaten her out on the kitchen counter, the kitchen table, the breakfast room nook, the mahogany dining room table, the sofa in the living room, the stairs leading up to the master suite—I don’t think there’s a space in this house that I haven’t imagined her on her back with her legs up and my head between her thighs, licking that pussy until she paints my face white with her cream.
Too bad that all I have are fantasies.
6
Orchard
“I’m not sure if I’m supposed to have these but I took them anyway,” I tell Abigail. I’d printed out all of the information on the grocery store from my work computer. She’s been looking over the folder I brought to dinner for a good twenty minutes now. She is way better with numbers than I am. I trust her and know that she’ll give me her honest opinion once she goes over everything.
“The margin for profit isn’t enormous but you’d make money. The store is growing in profit each year.” She closes the folder, handing it back to me.
“I was thinking that too, but look at this. I’ve been telling the manager we should switch a few distributors that could save us money.” I roll my eyes because he never listens to me. No one ever does at the store. I’d gotten my position so quickly because I knew how to run the books and payroll. It was one less thing for them to have to do.
The managers just don’t care about saving money because it isn’t their money. It doesn’t come out of their pockets directly, so why do a little extra work when it doesn’t really affect them? As long as they get their checks each month that’s all they care about.
“You should do it. Remember how you handled your dad’s shipyard? You were all over everything. Even if he didn’t appreciate your hard work, you still did what was best for the company. If the store is already growing without much work, think of what it could do with someone that cares.” I smile, appreciating how much confidence she has in me. “Not to mention I told the hubs about how you were thinking about buying it and he told me the empty lot next door was sold to a well-known builder. They are putting a ton of new condos there, which should help you grow.”
“You should do it with me! You could do the books. The two of us could kill it together.” I watch as Abigail thinks about it. I can tell she’s liking the idea from her expression. This would be the perfect fit. Abigail is smart and driven and I know that she’ll put in just as much work as I do. I would never have to worry about her not having my back.
“Let me run some of my own numbers but maybe I will.”
“Talk to Con about it. You don’t have to decide today.” This idea of mine is growing by the second. My plans to be more independent are finally taking shape. It would be one less thing that I have to depend on my husband for. I won’t need his money at all if I can pull this off.
“Okay, enough about business. I want to know about my friend.” She reaches across the table to grab my hand. “How are you holding up?”