Page 3 of Cream

I caught his eyes drifting up my body. I don’t know if he thought he was being quick or slick or whatever, but I sure as hell didn’t care. He can check me out all day long, and you won’t catch me calling him out on it. Think I’d wear these pants and this blouse to another farm in the area to fill out purchase orders?

“Open up,” Brent says, holding the tasting cup up over my head.

“Oh, no!” I cry out laughing. “I am such a klutz. There’s no way–”

“Don’t worry. I’m an expert marksman. I’ll pour it right into your mouth. Just open wide and stand still.”

He must be kidding, right? I stare back at him, waiting for him to break, but he doesn’t. He just keeps looking at me with a slight smirk on his lips and his green eyes sparkling like emeralds.

“Oh my God…okay,” I finally reply, stepping closer and trying to figure out the angle. “But this is my good work blouse, so be careful.”

“Don’t worry. If anything happens, Luna, I’ll buy you a new one. Now open up.”

I don’t know what I’m doing, but following his directions just feels so natural. It’s almost like how I just naturally do what I’m told when my dad instructs me to do something.

I look at Brent’s handsome face, take a deep breath, and open up.

The next thing I know, a stream of Brent’s sweet, perfect cream is falling into my mouth, right onto my tongue. He was right; he is an expert marksman.

“There ya go,” he says softly. “Lap it right up like a good girl–”

I burst out laughing, sending Brent’s cream spilling everywhere–particularly all over my cleavage.

Brent cracks up too as I panic and look around for something to wipe myself down with. But before I know it, he’s got a plush, white towel in his hand and is cleaning me off like it’s his job.

“Sorry about that,” he chuckles. “I’m also a part-time comedian.”

“We could have pulled that off if you didn’t crack me up like that!”

“My bad,” he laughs as he mops up the last of his cream from my chest. “I also hope that your boyfriend doesn’t show up here with a shotgun when you tell him about…this.”

I smile and shake my head. “No shotgun-wielding boyfriend at the moment, sir.”

“Is that right?”

“No boyfriend whatsoever.” I nod.

“Impossible.”

I shrug. “Not everyone is a magnet for members of the other sex like yourself, Mr. Carnell.”

He frowns and tosses the towel aside.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Really?” I ask. “I saw the way your secretary was looking at you–at me. What’s her name? Claire?”

Brent bursts out laughing in a way that makes me feel like I’ve said something completely moronic.

“What?”

“No, no, no, no.” He shakes his head. “Claire and I aren’t…”—he intertwines his fingers in front of his face—“together.”

“Oh, really?” I ask. “Because I could have sworn–”

“Definitely not. She’s just an employee. A damn good one too.”

I’m blushing even harder now than I was before. I brush my hair out of my face and take a deep breath, trying to cool off.

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