Page 146 of Bosses With Benefits

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“I won’t tell anyone in the office,” the email went on to say. “I refuse to spread rumors like that. And even if it was true, who cares? What someone did in their free time is none of our business.”

Easy for you to say, I thought.If you knew it was true, you might think differently.

I skimmed the other emails in my inbox. Some discussing grant requests, and others talking about new donors and their contributions to the fund.

Completely normal things.

I got a message from August on the company chat program:

Cunningham, August: Want to come over after work and discuss everything? There’s a lot for us to unpack.

Before my nap, the last thing I wanted to do was see them again. I was still too embarrassed. But now, I felt a lot more comfortable about it.

On the way over to August’s place, I picked up a pizza. But when I knocked on his door, it was Michael who answered.

“August’s still at work,” he explained. “Finalizing all the changes now that he’s in charge. I think he’s going to be surprised at how much work it is being the CEO.”

I laughed at that. It felt good to laugh about all of this now that we were on the other side of it.

Michael and I dug into the pizza while standing around the kitchen island. That’s when I remembered something from earlier today, something that I had forgotten about with all the chaos of the Sandra Trout meeting.

“What did you want to talk about?” I asked.

“I didn’t have anything in mind. I just wanted us to hang out, and make sure we’re all okay.”

I shook my head. “No, I mean earlier. Before the meeting. You told me you wanted to talk, and that we should do it at a bar rather than your place.”

“Oh.” Michael lowered his head and chuckled. “I was going to tell you that I knew about your OnlyFans page.”

I almost choked on a pepperoni. “What! But how? Did Sandra email you before the meeting?”

“No, actually… I’ve been a subscriber to your page for a while. Since before you started your job, actually.”

“Excuse me?” It didn’t seem possible. What were the odds?

“I went to a bachelor party a few months ago. Some friend of August’s. He dragged me to it because I was still getting over Erin.”

I gasped and dredged a name up from my memory. “Spencer Gilroy? That bachelor party?”

“That was the one.”

“Big green dildo?”

“Baylor green. The best man was a huge asshole. He got all offended when you paused the video for a minute or two. He convinced everyone to harass you and fill the chat with insults. I felt so bad about it that I went home that night, subscribed to your page, and gave you a big tip. I only did it to ease my conscience, because I sympathized with someone like you who was just trying to earn some money. But then…”

“But then?”

“Then I kept watching. First the videos you posted, then your live shows. There was something entrancing about you. I was embarrassed about it for the longest time, but now that I know it was you all along, I don’t feel so bad. You even messaged me a few times. You said something about Ohio, so I assumed it was a bot response.”

“Wait a minute,” I said. “What was your username?”

“Cavs1996.”

I smacked my forehead. “That was you! I remember. I don’t message many of my fans, but you were one of the biggest tippers.”

“So it wasn’t an automated response?” he asked, confused. “Then what was all that stuff about Ohio?”

“I thought your username was referring to the Cleveland Cavaliers.”


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