Suami Pelit Melarat Saat Kutinggalkan

SKYLAR POV

Fuck, girl, you hit a jackpot— Samantha said as we went down the building's elevator.

Have you seen how hot that man is? She said.

He's hot?

"That's my boss, Sam," I blurted out.

"Of course, I've seen him, but I need this job, damn it.

They pay me a lot more than the Burger Joint, and if I want to be someone and make a future for myself, I'm sure this could be my chance."

"Of course, it's your chance," she said.

"But you're going to tell me you didn't fantasize about him when he walked through the door."

I punched her, and we continued talking animatedly until we reached a sports store.

I'd never played golf before, much less worn clothes appropriate for a client meeting on a golf course.

I'd played mini-golf at a sorority party, but I'm not sure that counts, since I was pretty wasted.

I bought a white tracksuit, which I'm sure has completely thrown me off balance this month.

On the way home, I called my parents to tell them about the job and how my day had gone.

They were very happy, I guess also selfishly happy that they didn't have to support me anymore.

My dad is a professor at the University of Arizona and my mom is a teacher.

I didn't attend that university because I wanted to go to New York University instead.

After graduation, I didn't go back home, I stayed in New York and worked at a burger joint.

The pay wasn't enough, so my parents kept sending me money.

Now I'm glad I can finally take care of myself.

I went to bed early; I didn't want to be late on my first day at work, especially with the boss I had.

I set an alarm for 5:00 a.m. to give myself enough time to get ready.

When I got up, I took a long shower and laid out my golf clothes and the suit I was going to wear today.

I fixed my hair and then made my lunch and my breakfast.

I'd eat it on my way to work; I didn't have much time left; I took the subway an hour before I arrived and was pretty well on time, even 15 minutes early, despite the chaos of mornings.

As I entered the building, the noise from the street fell silent, leaving only the silence of the receptionist and me.

It was the same as yesterday.

"Good morning," I said, greeting her.

"Did they accept you?" she blurted out.

"I'm so glad," she said, pulling a coffee out of a bag next to her table.

"To be honest, I knew they were going to take you, here," she said, handing me a coffee.

Caramel macchiato is my favorite.

"My name is Laura; let me know if you need anything; I'm always here."

"Skylar," I said, shaking her hand.

"I'd love to talk to you, but I have to go."

Yes, you'd better; the boss is already upstairs—she said, and I nodded.

I got on the elevator and when I reached the tenth floor, Mr. Jenkins was waiting for me in front of the door.

"I've been waiting for you," he said as he looked at my outfit.

He was already dressed for golf.

"Do you have anything to change into?" he asked, and I nodded.

"The bathroom is on the left, I'll wait for you in my office."

Minutes later, I was walking into the office wearing one of those ridiculous skirts, carrying a cap, and carrying a gym bag containing my clothes.

Upon entering the office, Mr. Jenkin looked me over.

For a moment, I felt the heat in the room grow, and my face must have turned as red as a tomato.

He continued admiring my entire body, focusing on my legs, which were exposed because of that stupid skirt.

For what seemed like minutes, his blue eyes scanned my entire body until he came out of his trance and started to leave.

"Not bad," he whispered, passing me and lightly brushing my arm.

My skin prickled at once.

I followed him as he headed for the elevator, and as we stepped inside, we both fell silent.

He pressed the -1 key; I assumed it was the garage.

A moment later, we arrived at a garage that wasn't very crowded.

A black car with a driver was waiting at the elevator door.

He opened the door and waited for me to get in.

As I got in, my skirt rose slightly, and I hoped to the gods he hadn't seen anything.

Despite being culottes, those pants left very little to the imagination, and that wasn't the impression I wanted to give my new boss.

He got in behind me, and as I closed the door, the driver drove off.

"Is it just you and me?" I asked.

It was a very indiscreet question, but after the review he had given me, I'm sure it was nothing.

"What else?" he said, turning his gaze to the window.

A few minutes later, he turned to me.

"These two clients are very important," he began.

"They're older, very conservative, and with outdated ideals.

They probably see you as an object, just as a bargaining chip.

They believe that women are only good for being women, not for business. Fulfill their every whim, and they'll be satisfied."

"Okay,"

"Why did I come here if that's the case?" I asked.

"Maybe a man or someone with more experience would have been better."

Believe me, Miss Stallion, when men go golfing, they look for young women to catch their eye; it will benefit us to have you there.

"So I'm just a good card in a poker game?" I choked out.

I realized instantly that I shouldn't have said that.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to say that."

"You'd better save those comments in front of the customers," he snapped, and I felt the coldness in his voice again.

The rest of the drive was silent.

I knew my comment hadn't been the most appropriate, but God had just spoken.

I'm not used to being an exhibit or an object, and I felt that way at that moment.

After a while, we were on the golf course, three men playing while I watched from the cart.

I had no idea how to play, and after Mr Jenkins' comment, it was clear to me that I had to be submissive if I wanted to keep this job.

******************************************

"Miss Stallion," Mr. Jenkin called, "Get us some lemonade juice and come throw balls."

I approached the three men with glasses of lemonade, and they thanked me while admiring my body.

"You should try throwing a ball," said one of the men.

They were about sixty-five years old, and it was so strange.

“Have you tried it before,” Mr. Jenkin asked, and I shook my head.

“Stand in front of the ball with your legs open.”

He handed me a stick and showed me how to position my fingers.

He helped me position myself and then stood behind me, so close I could feel his breath on my neck.

He placed his hands next to my hands and helped me hit the ball.

"Very well," said one of the men.

"I'm sure with a little practice you'd get good at it," he said, smiling.

"Here," he said, handing the glass back to me.

The others did the same and I returned to the cart.

I noticed the three men's gaze as I bent down to put the juice jug back in the fridge.

I felt like I was being watched the whole time, but I guess that's what they intended with my presence there.

I approached the men, who were talking animatedly, and they had just finished the last hole.

Mr Jenkin, Miss Nora called.

She said you have an urgent matter at the company that requires your attention.

Don't worry, son, go, I'm sure you'll be busy—said one of the gentlemen.

More than you can imagine, he joked.

"You'll have the contract on your desk tomorrow," the other said and Xander nodded.

It was already five in the evening, and I'd barely had time to go over all the paperwork Mr. Xander had left me.

He'd been out for lunch for hours, and I hadn't even had time to eat from the Tupperware he'd brought me.

I walked toward the bathroom near my office.

When I was going back to my office, Mr. Jenkins' door was ajar, and I was curious to watch from afar for a second.

When my gaze met his, he winked at me and continued with what he was doing.

I stared at the scene for a few seconds.

Fuck.

There was a girl on his desk, he was topless, with one of her breasts in his mouth, and while he was sucking on it and he was squeezing the other breast with his other hand, he looked at me and winked.

Fuck, I ran to my office.

I noticed my breathing quicken as I closed the door, but I also noticed the heat growing in my pussy.

That was so... sexy.

I was going to be fired, on my first day.