“I feel a bit like a tart,” I’d admitted to Josie after the fact.
“Oh, rubbish. You never give yourself a break, Angel. You’re the most decent human being I’ve ever known. Besides, it’s unlikely you’ll ever see him again. Where’s the harm in a bit of fun?”
I accepted her praise at the time. I had to admit that I had a spring in my step for weeks after the mind-blowing orgasm Max had pulled out of me.
It was a completely different story after my interview. Josie knew something was up the moment she got home.
“What’s up? You look like you saw a ghost.”
“That’s because I did. The ghost of one-night-stand-past.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You’ll never guess who my new boss may be.”
“No!”
“Fucking, yes.”
“Really? Birthday Boy is your new boss?”
“The very same. I almost fainted when he walked into the interview room today, Josie. I swear, I still don’t know how I didn't run out of there with my tail between my legs.”
“So, it’s true. No good deed goes unpunished, huh,” Josie laughed.
“I can’t fucking believe it, Jo. How mortifying.”
“Why? He was caught with his pants down too, you know.”
“Yeah, but he’s not the one interviewing for the position, is he? You know how fucked up society is. He’s the stud. I’m the tart.”
“Bullshit. It’s the twenty-first century, Angel. Sisters are doing it for themselves, remember?”
“Well, this sister needs a stiff one,” I said and poured myself a shot of tequila.
“No pun intended,” Josie laughed.
“And? Do you think you’ll get the job?”
“Well, the good news is I crushed the interview. The bad news is now we wait. Ugh.”
“You’ll get it. Which company would be stupid enough not to hire a brainbox such as yourself?”
“Thanks, Jo.”
* * *
The call came late on Friday afternoon–after five days of agony. The job was mine. The hard part was over. Or was it? Seeing Max that Monday morning, draped in a tailored suit, dripping with raw sex appeal, gave me pause. Perhaps I was a little hasty in celebrating my success.
I felt the heat creeping up my thighs when I caught him staring at me. I wondered how long he stood in my office doorway before he cleared his throat.
He called me into his office after lunch.
“Hi, please, sit down.”
It was difficult not to fidget while Max arrested my senses with his sexy, hazel eyes. It was like shooting fish in a barrel. No prizes for guessing who the fish was.
“I’m off to Moscow on Thursday,” he said once I was seated.