Page 12 of The Boss' Pet

I am absolutely mortified. I cannot believe Marcus did that to me. I cannot believe he pinned me down over his lap and spanked my butt like I was some bad little girl.

My head is swimming both with the effects of alcohol, and with the shame of my ordeal. My pussy is aching. He didn’t just fuck me. He fucked me so well I will know I’ve been fucked for a very long time.

“Where would you like to go?” The taxi driver looks over his shoulder at me.

I give my address. It’s a long ways away, and I hear the driver hesitate for a second, right before he remembers that rideshare apps exist and he’s lucky to get a fare at all.

As the city starts to slide by the windows, I sink down in the cool leather seat and I try to both forget about what just happened as well as focus relentlessly on it. I really thought the evening would be more of a success than that. I thought he might find me boring, or perhaps be called away to one of his many important meetings. I never imagined I’d have his full physical attention, and that he would manhandle me.

My ass is still stinging, and there is an ache that abates sometimes but starts up all over again every time I move. I hate that I can still feel what he just did to me. I should press charges for that. I should make him fucking pay for treating me like I am one of the very, very many things he possesses.

I’m going to get even. I’ve already decided that. But I’m also not going to make a formal report to the authorities. Not yet. I want to get Marcus Waterstone brought to justice, but not for smacking my butt. I want to go deeper. The absolute embarrassment he’s made me suffer is going to motivate me the rest of the way. He made a mistake when he treated me like a simple girl and he’s going to regret…

“We are here, miss.”

“We are?”

I look out the window and see that he is correct. My apartment building is right across the street from us. Everything is smaller and plainer here than it was in the part of the city where Marcus dwells. People rush by on the sidewalk, wearing jeans and sneakers and puffy plastic derived coats. I feel myself relaxing a little as I find myself once more among my own people.

I get myself together, cursing under my breath as I realize I’ve lost a shoe. This is so messy. I haven’t been this out of control since college.

“How much do I owe you?”

“Nothing whatsoever, ma’am.”

“But we came almost an hour out of your way.”

“That’s my job.”

I am confused. I haven’t paid much attention to the cab. Or wait, is it an uber? I have been much more concerned with my own disappointing experience with Marcus Waterstone than paying attention to the manner of my leaving his building. I must be even more flustered than I thought.

“Who is going to pay you?”

He simply smiles. “Mr. Waterstone will take care of this.”

Things are starting to click. “You work for Marcus Waterstone?”

“I do, yes.”

“So you just happened to be sitting at the side of the road with taxi signage?”

“I don’t believe I have any signage.”

“I could have sworn…” I look at the car, and now I see that there’s no signage after all. I got into this vehicle without even knowing who was driving.

“I’m so embarrassed! I’m so sorry!” I reach for the door handle, fumble it, and then try again for a second time. This time I manage to get out of the vehicle like an actual human.

I hobble my way across the street with one shoe and one bare foot. I could take the other shoe off, but I just want to get out of the driver’s sight. This is the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to me. Not only have I totally failed to gain any real insight into Marcus Waterstone, I’ve been humiliated, and then gone and humiliated myself on top of it.

I let myself into the building and rush past whoever is at the mailboxes. There are tears filling my eyes as I ascend the stairs, though I have to pause to wrench my surviving shoe from my foot.

The stairs stink and are sticky in ways and places they shouldn’t be. I can’t afford to think about that too much. I can’t afford to think about anything here. City living is expensive, and this is one of the very few places I was actually able to afford on my own.

My apartment is on the third floor. It’s super small, and it’s cramped, but so is everything else in this city. I shut the door behind myself and lock it. That’s second nature.

Then I get into the shower, which is three steps from the front door, and has a toilet in the same cubicle. Modern, the leasing agent described it, like they do in Tokyo.

I have to wash the failure off myself. I have to wash the fucking come off myself. As I peel off my underwear, I feel it sticking to my skin just a little. Marcus has left himself all over me. I’m lucky he didn’t do it inside me. He strikes me as the sort of guy who would fuck you and expect you to just take the morning after pill.

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