IN BED WITH THE BOSS

“I wouldn’t say ‘happy’,” Scott replied, “But I’m a bit relieved that no one is giving you reasons to leave me. It would suck if you did”

He flashed a smile at her, and when she still said nothing, he moved closer to her. “You seemed upset when I saw you get out of the elevator. What’s wrong?”

Vivian shook her head, “Nothing” she lied, but he could not be fooled. He crossed the room and went behind her desk so he could pull her off her chair. He sat on it and she let him pull her down so she was sitting on his lap.

“Someone will come in, Scott” she said, although she made no effort to stand. “And then I’ll have to deal with even more gossip”

“Ah” he said, “So that’s what your foul mood is about. Gossip…”

“You make it sound so casual and it’s not. You have no idea how I feel when I hear these things people say about me.”

“Why do you care?” he asked.

“What?”

“Why do you care?” he asked again, “Do you regret it? Do you not enjoy the moments we spend together?”

Vivian nodded. “Of course I do, Scott” she replied.

“Then screw what people are saying. We are having a great time and enjoying each others company. So why don’t we just focus our energy on that instead?”

Vivian stared down at him. How could she say anything else? When he was staring her in that way that made her bones melt and her stomach feel like she had a million butterflies in it. She was indeed enjoying his company and she was happy. So maybe he was right. Why the hell did she care?”

“Alright” she replied.

His face brightened and he gave her a boyish grin, “Good” he said, “Now how about you spend tonight at my place. We can talk, eat great food prepared by my cook, get fucking stoned, and then we can have amazing, mind blowing sex. Now doesn’t that sound great?”

Vivian laughed, then suddenly realized what he’d said, “Get stoned?” she repeated, her eyes widening in surprise.

Scott tried hard not to burst into laughter. “Yeah,” he said, “Don’t tell me you’ve never gotten high before”

Vivian shook her head, “Well, I haven’t been high on anything other than alcohol”

“Well, then I’ll be glad to be the one to show you” he said, “And you don’t have to worry about smoking it if you don’t want to. My cook bakes them into these delicious brownies and they are amazing. But it’s okay if you don’t want do it. We’ll still have fun.”

Vivian smiled at him, “You’re one weird guy, you know.” she said, then jumped to her feet, “Now go back to your office before someone walks in here and sees us. I know we don’t care, but we should at least have some self control.”

Grinning, Scott stood as she requested, “Fine” he said, “As you wish, but tonight, you’re mine.”

“And I look forward to it” Vivian replied as he walked out, closing the door after him.

_________

“I’m sorry I couldn’t come pick you up, but I’m sure my driver took good care of you?”

Scott asked Vivian as he stepped down into the recessed living room of his penthouse and slipped his hands into the pockets of his pants. Vivian hovered at the top of the two steps leading into the room.

He surveyed his home, attempting to view it through her eyes. The dual-level, four-bedroom, three-bath condominium was the epitome of luxury with its airy, open-floor plan, floor-to-ceiling windows, game and media rooms, indoor and outdoor kitchens and private roof-top lounge that boasted its own fireplace. But it’d been the stunning views of the River and skyline from every room that had sold him. It was like being a part of the elements while protected from them.

He’d left most of the simple, elegant decor to his interior designer, but scattered among the gray, white and black color scheme were pieces of him, if Vivian cared to look close enough. Next to the god-awful piece of metallic abstract art on the fireplace mantel that he’d never gotten around to tossing stood a framed photo of him with his family, including his grandparents.

On top of the white baby grand piano where his sister sometimes plucked out “Mary Had a Little Lamb” sat the guitar pick he’d forgotten to put away the night before.

Peeking from between the couch pillows was the ear of a pair of Bluetooth headphones that he used to listen to music with while working from home.

Yes, if she paid attention, she might glimpse those hints into him. And part of him tensed with the need to go through the room and remove those clues from her sight. But the other half… That half wanted her to spy them, to ask questions. Which was bullshit, since their arrangement didn’t require that kind of intimacy. He shouldn’t hunger for that.

“Your home is very beautiful” Vivian said as she looked around, “.. That’s if this is actually your home and not one of those places you buy or rent”

Scott smiled. “Ouch” he said, “But, yes. This is my home, Vivian. “Would you like a drink? Wine? Champagne? Water?”

“Champagne?” she replied, stepping down into the living room.

He grinned at her, then turned to pour her the drink and a bourbon for him. Moments later, he handed the glass to her and silently watched as she sipped. When she lifted those beautiful eyes to him he wanted to kiss her, but he wrapped his arm around her waist instead. For some reason he felt like he had to hold back somehow. Everyday, he felt like he was opening himself to her in a way that scared him a bit.

“Let’s get you freshened up while I get dinner ready. I need to heat it up.” he said

————

After dinner, while Scott was making some calls, Vivian took a tour of his place. At least the downstairs. A formal dining room. A bedroom done in soft blues and cream.

Maybe this was where his sister, Sara, slept when she came over; he’d said the T-shirt and leggings he’d given Vivian were hers. Until that moment, he’d never really told her anything about his family. But he didn’t offer more information, and not wanting to pry, she didn’t ask for more.

Another bathroom. A study. A den.

She paused at the open door of that last room. With its two couches, love seat, numerous end tables, large coffee table, massive television screen mounted above the fireplace. She glanced behind her, but the hallway remained empty. Just a peek, she promised herself, then she’d leave.

Moving into the room, she stroked a hand over the leather couch that bore a distinct imprint in the middle cushion.

Must be where Scott sat the most. She could easily imagine the man she’d spent this evening with-in his black, long-sleeved, V-neck sweater, black jeans and bare feet-relaxing in this room. Feet up on the table, remote in hand, scanning through the no-doubt-numerous channels before deciding on…what? Funny.

She knew how he had sex, but had no clue about his favorite TV shows or movies. For some reason, that struck her as sad. It also lit a hunger to discover more about him. Some things they’d shared in their time together, but not nearly enough to satisfy her curiosity. What was his favorite color? His favorite band? Snack? Boo- Oh God.Belongs to (N)ôvel/Drama.Org.

Breath trapped in her throat, she crossed the room toward the instrument that had captured her attention.

No, instruments. Plural. A glossy black stand with padded interior cradled six guitars. She knew nothing of guitars, but she could tell the three acoustic and three thinner, sleeker electric guitars had to be expensive. And obviously well cared for.

A flutter tickled her stomach, launching into a full-out quake. She reached a slightly trembling hand toward the guitars.

“Do you play?” his voice said behind her.

She whipped around, guilt snaking through her.

“I-I’m sorry,” she stammered, backing away from the instruments. Damn, she was a sneak. And not even a good one. “I didn’t mean to snoop, I…” She paused and inhaled a deep breath. “I was taking a self-guided tour of your house and saw the guitars. They’re beautiful,” she whispered. “I don’t play, but obviously, you do…?”

He nodded, crossed the room on silent bare feet and halted next to the stand.

“For years,” he said, brushing an affectionate stroke over the gleaming wood of an acoustic guitar. Her thighs tightened, the touch reminding her of how he caressed her skin. A lover’s familiar caress. “We didn’t have a lot of money when I was growing up. But when I showed an interest and aptitude for guitar, my mother somehow managed to scrape enough together for lessons. I didn’t find out until I was a teenager, but my father played the guitar, too. I guess I inherited my love of music from him.”