Like, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stop replaying it in my mind. And I don’t think I can go back to work on Monday and look at him with a straight face again after this...
I’ll be at your place in five.
Your bestie,
Mya
THE BOSS
Michael Manhattan, New York
My weekend flew by in a restless blur, punctuated by mental replays of fucking Mya in her office. I’d honestly never thought about the same woman after I was finished having sex, but the more I attempted to stop thinking about Mya, the more images of her writhing against my lips came to mind. The more images of her bent over her desk and saying my name invaded my every thought.
Not only that, but I hadn’t heard from her today. She hadn’t answered my “What I Need Today” email with her usual “Ok,” and she was already more than two hours late. I figured she was trying to pull that “I stayed late Friday so I’m coming late Monday” bullshit, so I decided to think nothing of it.
I tried my best to distract myself until our two o’clock meeting because she knew better than to miss any day of work for the next month since it was acquisition season.
As I was reading through the newest stack of approved book deals, a soft knock came to my door.
“Yes?” I set my papers down, expecting to see Mya, but it was only Brad and a catering delivery guy.
“Morning,” Brad said as he walked over to my desk. “I wanted to come early and treat you and Mya to a late lunch if you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind.” I lied, motioning for the delivery guy to set out the food on my desk.
“Wild weekend?” Brad asked.
“No. What makes you ask that?”
“You look like you’re on edge, like you haven’t slept in days or you’re stressed about something. Or maybe it’s...” He paused, letting out a long exasperated sigh. “Are you bracing to tell me about an upcoming tabloid story?” He shook his head. “You were doing so well, Michael. So well...”
“No.” I rolled my eyes. “And I’m not on edge. If you must know, I didn’t sleep well last night and I still have to get through a three-hour session with you and Mya that starts at any moment.”
“Speaking of Mya—” He started to say, but I interrupted him.
“She’s allergic to garlic,” I said to the delivery guy, picking up the basket of bread he’d set down. “Can you replace this with wheat rolls?”
“Yes sir.”
“And this.” I gestured to a bottle of caramel syrup he’d set out. “She’ll think this is hazelnut and have a coughing spell if she drinks a sip of it. Take this as well and bring up chocolate syrup instead.”
“Yes sir.” He picked up the offending items and headed to the door. “Be right back.”
Brad raised his eyebrow, looking completely confused. “Have you always memorized your assistant’s food preferences?”
“Only the ones who last over a year.”
“Ah.” He laughed. “Well, like I was saying, Apple and Microsoft called to tell me that you still haven’t returned their calls about her reference so you really need to do that at some point this week. You do plan on giving her a good recommendation, don’t you?”
My phone rang before I could address that question.
“Yes?” I answered.
“Good morning, Mr. Leighton,” a soft voice said. “This is Shelby in Human Resources. I’m sorry I’m notifying you so late, but your executive assistant called in earlier and put in a notice for a week of sick leave.”
“A week?”
“Yes sir. Would you like me to fill her space with a temp during this time?”
“No, thank you.” I hung up and leaned back in my chair. Mya never used sick leave, even when she was actually sick. She’d come to countless meetings coughing and sneezing when she probably should’ve stayed home, so I wasn’t sure if she was using our recent tryst as leverage, or if she’d somehow become deathly ill in a matter of forty eighty hours.
“Michael?” Brad attempted to get my attention. “Michael?”
I ignored him, pulling out my phone and sending Mya an email.
Subject: Sick Leave.
You better have a goddamn doctor’s note...
Michael Leighton
CEO, Leighton Publishing
Her response was immediate.
Subject: Re: Sick Leave.
And if I don’t?
Mya London
Executive Assistant to Leighton Publishing CEO
Subject: Re: Re: Sick Leave.
If you don’t, I suggest you call HR right now and rescind your “sick leave” since I already know it’s fake. Then I suggest you magically appear in my office within the next hour so we can prepare for next week’s round of author acquisitions.
Michael Leighton
CEO, Leighton Publishing
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Sick Leave.
Oh, that’s right. Next week is very important...
I’ll probably be sick next week, too.
(I’ll probably still be” recovering” from something.)
Maybe if I’m gone for awhile you’ll see how hard my job really is. Maybe then you’ll appreciate me more.
Mya London
Executive Assistant to Leighton Publishing CEO
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Sick Leave.
You will not “probably be sick” next week.
You will bring your ass to work.
(It doesn’t take two weeks to recover from getting properly fucked.)
I’d appreciate you a lot more if you came into work today...
Michael Leighton
CEO, Leighton Publishing
I closed my inbox, not waiting for her response. I looked up and noticed Brad staring at me as if he’d just seen a ghost.
“What?” I said.
“You fucked Mya, didn’t you?”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” He didn’t flinch. “You slept with her...You slept with her, and that’s why you haven’t called those companies back. That’s exactly why you don’t want her to leave.”
“That’s not why I don’t want her to leave.”
“So you’re admitting to the part about fucking her?”
“No,” I said, denying it and spending countless minutes attempting to calm him down. I knew he’d have a heart attack if he knew the truth.
When I was sure he was convinced, I pulled out the files for today’s meeting so the two of us could go through them alone.
As he began to organize his own files, I opened a new tab in my browser and looked up a local florist so I could order “Get Well” flowers for Mya—so I could send her a more direct “Bring your ass to work” note.
I picked out a seven-layer bouquet of lilies since she’d once mentioned loving those in a novel meeting, and I was halfway to the purchase screen when I stalled.
What the hell am I doing?
I closed the screen and clicked my pen.
I could definitely survive a week without her help since she wanted to continue to play games. I was pretty sure I could do her job even better than she could.
It couldn’t be that hard.
I’ll be at your place in five.
Your bestie,
Mya
THE BOSS
Michael Manhattan, New York
My weekend flew by in a restless blur, punctuated by mental replays of fucking Mya in her office. I’d honestly never thought about the same woman after I was finished having sex, but the more I attempted to stop thinking about Mya, the more images of her writhing against my lips came to mind. The more images of her bent over her desk and saying my name invaded my every thought.
Not only that, but I hadn’t heard from her today. She hadn’t answered my “What I Need Today” email with her usual “Ok,” and she was already more than two hours late. I figured she was trying to pull that “I stayed late Friday so I’m coming late Monday” bullshit, so I decided to think nothing of it.
I tried my best to distract myself until our two o’clock meeting because she knew better than to miss any day of work for the next month since it was acquisition season.
As I was reading through the newest stack of approved book deals, a soft knock came to my door.
“Yes?” I set my papers down, expecting to see Mya, but it was only Brad and a catering delivery guy.
“Morning,” Brad said as he walked over to my desk. “I wanted to come early and treat you and Mya to a late lunch if you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind.” I lied, motioning for the delivery guy to set out the food on my desk.
“Wild weekend?” Brad asked.
“No. What makes you ask that?”
“You look like you’re on edge, like you haven’t slept in days or you’re stressed about something. Or maybe it’s...” He paused, letting out a long exasperated sigh. “Are you bracing to tell me about an upcoming tabloid story?” He shook his head. “You were doing so well, Michael. So well...”
“No.” I rolled my eyes. “And I’m not on edge. If you must know, I didn’t sleep well last night and I still have to get through a three-hour session with you and Mya that starts at any moment.”
“Speaking of Mya—” He started to say, but I interrupted him.
“She’s allergic to garlic,” I said to the delivery guy, picking up the basket of bread he’d set down. “Can you replace this with wheat rolls?”
“Yes sir.”
“And this.” I gestured to a bottle of caramel syrup he’d set out. “She’ll think this is hazelnut and have a coughing spell if she drinks a sip of it. Take this as well and bring up chocolate syrup instead.”
“Yes sir.” He picked up the offending items and headed to the door. “Be right back.”
Brad raised his eyebrow, looking completely confused. “Have you always memorized your assistant’s food preferences?”
“Only the ones who last over a year.”
“Ah.” He laughed. “Well, like I was saying, Apple and Microsoft called to tell me that you still haven’t returned their calls about her reference so you really need to do that at some point this week. You do plan on giving her a good recommendation, don’t you?”
My phone rang before I could address that question.
“Yes?” I answered.
“Good morning, Mr. Leighton,” a soft voice said. “This is Shelby in Human Resources. I’m sorry I’m notifying you so late, but your executive assistant called in earlier and put in a notice for a week of sick leave.”
“A week?”
“Yes sir. Would you like me to fill her space with a temp during this time?”
“No, thank you.” I hung up and leaned back in my chair. Mya never used sick leave, even when she was actually sick. She’d come to countless meetings coughing and sneezing when she probably should’ve stayed home, so I wasn’t sure if she was using our recent tryst as leverage, or if she’d somehow become deathly ill in a matter of forty eighty hours.
“Michael?” Brad attempted to get my attention. “Michael?”
I ignored him, pulling out my phone and sending Mya an email.
Subject: Sick Leave.
You better have a goddamn doctor’s note...
Michael Leighton
CEO, Leighton Publishing
Her response was immediate.
Subject: Re: Sick Leave.
And if I don’t?
Mya London
Executive Assistant to Leighton Publishing CEO
Subject: Re: Re: Sick Leave.
If you don’t, I suggest you call HR right now and rescind your “sick leave” since I already know it’s fake. Then I suggest you magically appear in my office within the next hour so we can prepare for next week’s round of author acquisitions.
Michael Leighton
CEO, Leighton Publishing
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Sick Leave.
Oh, that’s right. Next week is very important...
I’ll probably be sick next week, too.
(I’ll probably still be” recovering” from something.)
Maybe if I’m gone for awhile you’ll see how hard my job really is. Maybe then you’ll appreciate me more.
Mya London
Executive Assistant to Leighton Publishing CEO
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Sick Leave.
You will not “probably be sick” next week.
You will bring your ass to work.
(It doesn’t take two weeks to recover from getting properly fucked.)
I’d appreciate you a lot more if you came into work today...
Michael Leighton
CEO, Leighton Publishing
I closed my inbox, not waiting for her response. I looked up and noticed Brad staring at me as if he’d just seen a ghost.
“What?” I said.
“You fucked Mya, didn’t you?”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” He didn’t flinch. “You slept with her...You slept with her, and that’s why you haven’t called those companies back. That’s exactly why you don’t want her to leave.”
“That’s not why I don’t want her to leave.”
“So you’re admitting to the part about fucking her?”
“No,” I said, denying it and spending countless minutes attempting to calm him down. I knew he’d have a heart attack if he knew the truth.
When I was sure he was convinced, I pulled out the files for today’s meeting so the two of us could go through them alone.
As he began to organize his own files, I opened a new tab in my browser and looked up a local florist so I could order “Get Well” flowers for Mya—so I could send her a more direct “Bring your ass to work” note.
I picked out a seven-layer bouquet of lilies since she’d once mentioned loving those in a novel meeting, and I was halfway to the purchase screen when I stalled.
What the hell am I doing?
I closed the screen and clicked my pen.
I could definitely survive a week without her help since she wanted to continue to play games. I was pretty sure I could do her job even better than she could.
It couldn’t be that hard.
