Chapter 2 – Julian
“You can’t do it. I don’t care how good you think you are, man. I don’t care if your dick is big enough to make her use a wheelchair for the rest of the year. Don’t care if your bank account makes half the block fall in love with you. There’s no way you can order up one of your interns and fuck her within two hours.”
“Our interns.” How many times do I have to remind Preston that we share equal responsibility for the people under our employ? “I’m sure I could make it happen either way.”
Preston Bradley (no, not the other way around,) advances on my desk, both hands splaying across the oak. His cologne is a spicy concoction compared to my more subdued but powerful musk. His hair is a mess because he never bothered to comB it after walking in out of the wind, whereas I’m not above spending five minutes in my private bathroom making sure I’m perfectly presentable. His cufflinks don’t match his tie-clip and it pisses me off. Could he at least pretend to try?
Excuse me. I’m a perfectionist. One of us has to be.
Where were we?
“You are not God’s gift to women, sorry, hate to break it to you.”
I push aside his tie as it attempts to smudge the forms I’m signing at eight on a Friday night. “Neither are you, yet it doesn’t stop you from bringing such stupid topics up to begin with.”
“Hmph.” He stands up, grin taking five years off his age. “Wanna bet on it?”
A bet? How old are we again?
“I’m not betting anything,” I say. Can’t even look at him right now.
“I’m serious. Call up any female intern you want. See? I’ll let you have the advantage of choosing which one. Preferably one of the ones leaving at the end of the quarter, though. I know your dick loves to cause drama from here to Miami.”
I sigh. “I don’t understand why we’re discussing this.”
Preston invites himself into my office, both during and after work, all the damn time. Yet this is probably one of his most annoying impromptu visits in a while. He walked in talking about going to a club later to pick up chicks, and oh, did I want to tag along? Because, as he was keen on reminding me, I haven’t gotten “mad pussy” in a couple of weeks. For shame. Been cooping myself up in my offices trying to get caught up on the quarterly reports. I do this every three months. You’d think Preston would be used to it by now.
“Because we need to spice some things up around this office. Remember college? We got into so much trouble.”
“Yes, and it’s years later, and we’re not acting like that any longer.” Preston needs to grow up. He’s a brilliant businessman, but his personal life is a mess. Usually it’s not my problem as long as he keeps it clean for our corporation. Shit like this, though? Frustrating.
I do not want to pick one of our female interns to fuck. Yes, many of them are beautiful young women, and yes, I do love to sleep with beautiful women (young or not-so-young) but I also like to keep work and pleasure separate. I’ve learned my lessons about that.
“Come on. Just this once. Humor me. You know you want to.”
My eyes glance up at him; a snort shoots through my nostrils. “What? I pick a random woman and fuck her right here?”
“Sure. Two hour time limit. If you can call her here under other pretenses and get in her cunt – all dick, no fingers, bro – by the time I get back at 10:30, you win the bet.”
“What the hell do I win?”
“Besides sex with a hot young thing? Whatever you want me to do. Because I’m trying to prove a point here.”
I say the first terms that come to my mind. “You’re heading all the staff meetings. For the next month.”
“The next month? Deal.” Maybe that’s not a big deal for him, but it is for me. I hate every social aspect of this job, particularly those that demand me to talk to people who are way below my level. I have to explain everything. Be patient with them. Talk to them like they’re five. And that’s only their jobs. God help me if we’re at a social function and they make an ass out of themselves. I had to take etiquette classes growing up. Why didn’t the fools we employ? I know Oregon has some of the worst public education in the country, but really, they can’t swing a diplomacy lesson here or there? Besides, so many of our ignorant interns come from out of the state. I really expect more of the New York and Boston ones, but here we are.
I sigh again. “I’m sure you have something up your sleeve if I lose the bet.”
“If I win? Oh, hm, let’s see.” Preston taps his chin in faux-thought. “If I win, you have to come down to Rio with me so we can actually get you laid.”
“I’m not going to Rio.” Preston’s been planning an excursion to Brazil for the past month. He gets around the PNW, but our jobs are demanding enough that we rarely get real vacations, and this trip to Brazil is supposed to be a giant bachelor-cum-a-thon. That he keeps inviting me too. Please, like both of us can go on vacation for a week. We don’t have time for that. I’m working double to cover his ass during that week.
Besides, if I’m going on vacation, I’d rather go to Europe and appreciate some fine art and cuisine. The party scene is not me. Give me a few good friends, a private room with a poker table, and let the cigar smoke kill us all.
“You’ll come with me to Rio if you lose the bet. We’re shaking on it.”
He holds his hand across my desk. Reluctantly, I shake it. “This is the last stupid bet we’re making for a while.”
Preston pulls a stack of personal files from one of the corner cabinets. Some things are still analog around here. “Admit it. You like the challenge.”
“I thought my argument was that getting women to sleep with me wasn’t a challenge.” It’s not, either. I’ve never had a problem getting laid when I feel like it. The only women who turn me down are either that committed or gay. Even the sick ones try to get some of this.
“That’s what I’m saying. It’s going to be a fun challenge.” Preston hands me the stack of files for our female interns. “Go on. Have your pick. Call her up here for some stupid reason, like you need a file. Then seduce her. I’ll be back at 10:30. I wanna see her panties as proof.”
Preston Bradley would want to see a pair of panties whether a woman had worn them while I fucked her or not. He is perpetually fifteen like that. “Fine. Whatever.” I wave away the files. “Pick for me. I need to finish this column.” I go back to my spreadsheet as if I don’t care about the woman I’m doomed to seduce.
Preston takes his time going through the files, occasionally whistling, chuckling, or bemoaning that he wants a try with a certain young co-ed. We employ five female interns and five male interns. They come from all over the country, most of them graduated or attending the local business schools.
The one he shoves in my direction? Is the youngest, and still an undergrad.
“Alyssa, huh?” I barely make note of her last name. Her headshot is enough to make me snort. Wavy chestnut brown hair frames her round face. Beautiful, bold, daring me to ask her up to my corner CEO’s office so I can fuck her.
It’s a HR nightmare, but our HR department is a joke. Good enough to keep the employees in line, but… there are ways around legalities. Preston was right. This would be a fun challenge.
“All right. The one who fucks up her figures more than any of the other interns.” That’s the only reason I recognize her at all. She’s one of the few people I’ve personally sought out so I could fuck her a new asshole. I hate cleaning up sloppy intern work. I wouldn’t even allow interns if they weren’t such cheap labor salivating for “experience.” As the man who works with numbers around here, I love cutting costs and still maintaining efficiency and productivity. Two good things interns are good for… if they’re actually good at what they do. “Makes my plan easier.”
“Now, now, be nice to her. Don’t have to be nice to her pussy, but be nice to her.” Preston puts the files away. With a smirk, he shows himself to my door. “I’ll be back in two hours. Get her here and fucked by the time I get back, and I’ll take care of those pesky meetings for the next two months.” Upping the ante, hm? “When we go down to Rio, we’re getting you a woman for every night of the week.”
I wait for Preston to vacate the office before picking up my phone. This bet is a joke, but he’s right – I do love a challenge.
Now where the hell is Alyssa’s number? Did that bastard put her file away, knowing I’d have to waste time looking for her number? Of course he did. Because Preston will do any annoying thing to win a bet.