Page 24 of Bigfoot Boss
13
WOULDN’T DEMEAN YOUR TALENT
Sacha
I slide my phone into my pocket, determined not to look at it again tonight. Work can wait. Bailey is right, I’m here for her, and she deserves my undivided attention.
I try not to let my undivided attention focus on how jealous I am of the small gold necklace that dangles in her cleavage, an area I am dying to explore myself.
“Can I ask you something?” She bites her lip as we exit the restaurant.
“Of course.”
“It’s potentially embarrassing, and maybe potentially fireable?” she continues.
“Color me intrigued.”
“What does Cryptech do?”
I press my lips closed in an effort not to laugh.
“Sorry, sorry. It’s just where the temp agency sent me, and I never really googled it. I just saw the hourly rate and said yes. I’ve rarely worked somewhere long enough to worry about what a company did, and obviously I know it’s something to do withcomputers—” She rambles adorably, the way she does when she gets nervous.
My shoulders are shaking.
“Are you laughing at me?” she yelps. “Do not laugh at me! This is a real question!”
I shake my head. “I wouldn’t fire you for not knowing what the company does. Although, I wish you’d asked me sooner. We build encryption software and computer security frameworks.”
“See? See!” She pokes a finger into my chest. Heat blooms through me from the spot she touched. “I knew that you were going to explain with words that didn't actually clarify anything.”
“You are right. We do computers.” I shrug, tracking the movement of her hand as it leaves my body; she twirls in the opposite direction, her skirt flaring up, and giving a brief glorious glimpse of her thighs.
“Where are we going?” I call after her. “Should I order us a car?”
“We can walk!” She gestures for me to follow.
When I catch up with her at the crosswalk she looks up at me with glittering eyes. Her plump lips pull into a wide grin, and I can’t stop thinking about the way they felt pressed against mine. Our knuckles graze, and she glances down at our hands. I take a deep breath before slipping her small fingers in between mine. I lose track of all the clarifying questions I was planning to ask when she squeezes my hand lightly. She drags me several blocks, to a small bar nestled back from the street. We show our IDs to the bouncer at the door of a bar. It’s a little awkward getting my wallet out of my pocket with just one hand, but I don’t have the heart to release her grip.
The bouncer takes a long time to size me up. I try to give him a reassuring smile. I’m used to this kind of treatment, and I don’t really blame him. I wouldn’t want anyone walking around my office who I thought might be a threat, and that’s what cryptidsare to humans. Potential threats. Usually, the suits help people see me as a human.
Eventually, he waves us through.
“The cover is a little expensive,” Bailey tugs me inside. “But it’s so worth it. Wait til you see the inside.”
The building is dark, crowded, and filled with a cacophony of musical themes, chimes of bells, and the slam of plastic against metal. The ceilings are low, the room is dark, the building is long and narrow, with a wooden bar at the end. Both long walls are lined with pinball games. From older vintage models, to newer flashy machines.
“All the games are free to play. That’s why they charge so much to get in.” Bailey gestures to the rows of games. “It’s kind of a great deal if we play for a while! Can I buy you a drink?”
I nod, feeling eyes track us as we cross the room. I know we make a strange sight. I’m used to drawing a certain amount of attention, but Bay barely seems to notice it. Her fingers squeeze mine tightly before she presses up to the bar and orders.
It’s easier to lose her smell in this place, overwhelmed by the stale alcohol and the press of bodies. Hopefully, I’ll be able to think about something that isn’t how well her breasts would mold into my large hands.
She buys me a beer and herself a pineapple vodka and tugs me over to a Godzilla-themed machine. “Nice! It’s available! This one’s my favorite!” she gushes, pointing to the best aspects and explaining the nuances of a good table versus a bad one. She sets her drink into the holder beside the machine as she sets up a two-player game.
She promptly kicks my ass at it. My competitive side is furious, but I can’t help but be proud that my mate is so talented.
“You’re really good at this,” I say.
