An Affair With My Boss Read online

  “Do you need help with that?” John asked, indicating the uniform on the hanger.

  3

  For the third time that week, I was in bed with John. The first time we had made love, we went up to his penthouse suite as he’d offered the night I met him, on the top floor of the casino. This was on my second day on the job, dressed in my skirt and halter-top, the fanny pack around my hip bulging with the tips of so many faceless customers. I had finally submitted to checking out his suite, which was as beautiful as he boasted it to be. It resembled a fine hotel room, barely even touched. There were long windows in the far wall, a terrace, a couch that wrapped around the entire room, and a TV as tall as the ceiling.

  I almost found the room to be as overwhelming as the gaming floor, my eyes glazing over the tinkle of lights in the chandelier, in the mirrors in the ceiling, in the walls, and the soft lighting of the bedroom, left on just for us.

  After a few glasses of champagne, John told me that we could both take the rest of the day off. This pleased me to no end and I didn’t need to be told twice to strip off my uniform. I thought it stunk and wanted very much to throw it away. When I told John this, he stripped off his own suit right in front of me, inciting me to do the same. He took the bundle of our clothing and threw it over the terrace balcony, causing us both to erupt in fitted laughter. Then he took my hips in his hands, and we kissed for the first time, edging slowly toward the bed as if in a strange kind of side-step dance.

  In the chaos of our joining limbs and hot breathing, I remembered him flipping me around, so that he was on top. He had dug his knees into the mattress, while lifting my legs up onto his shoulders. I was most surprised when he screamed with a red face, cords standing out on his neck, howling up at the ceiling like an animal as he finished.

  On the third visit to his room, he asked to be choked from behind. I hesitated at first, but soon gave in, but it wasn't to his satisfaction. He offered to demonstrate on me, as reluctant as I was. With a soothing satin tone, he repositioned himself behind me, his knees digging into the mattress. He told me to breathe as his strong arm tightened over my throat. Uncomfortably, I slapped my hands against the wall to brace myself as he penetrated me from behind, nails digging into the wall and my breasts pushed against his headboard. I saw stars, my breath tapering through the narrow straw of my breathing canal. Amazingly though, my head and solar plexus erupted with fireworks of energy, lightning conducting up and down my spine. I thought I might actually burst out of my own skin under the storm of sparks kicked up between our pressed bodies, if it wasn't for his strong arms grounding me to the earth.

  After awhile I forgot to breathe, content with the coursing waves, crashing against the cliffs of my body, which I imagined was something like a rocket, ready to take to the air with one last surge, one last scream of elation. I forgot about everything during those minutes in bed with him. Tom, my job, and my home were all forgotten. Perhaps my name was even gone, replaced with my unique sensation of weightlessness, as though I was leaving my body.

  When finished, we fell into each other’s arms. While he slipped into sleep with my head on his chest, I watched the skin on my neck grow redder and redder in the mirror on the ceiling. I wondered what else we could get away with. I wondered how far we could really go.

  There in the bed, with the beautiful man asleep in his arms, I thought about Tom, who had simply dropped off the earth. I had even stopped by his place earlier that week, but I could not rouse him at all. This made me think I should call the police, but it would seem that I was the only one that missed Tom. What had become of him? I wondered if he left town, or perhaps had gotten himself into more trouble. Did John know anything about it?

  On our fourth visit to the suite, I intended to brace the subject. I didn’t know how to bring it up exactly, but knew I had plenty of time. Whenever we ventured up to the top suite, we never went back down to work, which is partly why I loved going to work so much. I didn’t even have to do my job, and my paychecks came all the same. We stayed up there until the casino closed, getting drunk on a limitless supply of booze, and screwing like rabbits on every piece of furniture we could find. Sometimes we even spent the night, rolling out of bed in the late morning to change for work downstairs. John insisted that it was important to make an appearance before we returned later that afternoon for another go.

  We rarely talked about our personal lives. I knew that John was married. I had never seen his wife, and tried not to think too much about it. I could admit to feeling an ounce of guilt for our adultery, as well as for Tom, who fit somewhere within our dirty picture. Yet I had never felt happier or more rewarded at my job or with my boss, who seemed like he was part of my soul, more than just a lover. I figured that we weren’t hurting anyone, just ourselves, even though self-destruction felt so good.

  “Do you know what happened to Tom?” I asked him as soon as we entered the suite.

  John didn’t look at me. He strode across the room to our own private bar and set about making us some drinks.

  “No,” he said. “I haven’t seen him in the casino for awhile.”

  “I haven’t seen him at all.” I tried to read his face, but his expression was so blank, his attention spent solely on the cocktail mixer in his hands. “I’m starting to get worried.”

  “He’s keeping his distance,” John replied, “as he should. If I see his face in here again, I will personally make sure he gets the message.”

  I felt my heart twinge uncomfortably. How dangerous was this man, really? Did I know him at all? Sometimes I liked to pretend that I did, but I was becoming ever more unsure.

  When we went to bed John laid me out on my back and stooped over me, smiling and sliding his fingers across my midriff. I squealed with a ticklish fit, squirming under the strengthening hold on my arms, pinning me to the mattress. Reaching blindly between his legs, I took hold of him and he breathed harshly into my face. He closed his eyes, smiling up at the ceiling. When I closed my own eyes, Tom swam in my mind, his red face screaming, and eyes blazing in the dark.

  And then the pressure on my chest became too much, John’s dead weight crushing my ribcage, his fingers starting to snake around my neck. While he kissed my neck, I struggled, my breath nonexistent. I wasn't ready, but he couldn’t stop. The pressure between my legs became even greater as he forced himself inside me. The last shred of my breath was torn out of me, my mouth gasping expectantly for air. He grabbed my throat and squeezed, and his other hand pinned my wrist to the bed. He worked his way inside me, grinding his teeth, and drooling into my hair. My eyes were bugging and my face went purple. I could feel all the veins in my body suddenly springing to life. I thrashed and squealed, spat up saliva and pumped my hips. There was a moment where I lost all sensation in my body, pulling up and out in a magnetic pull toward the ceiling. I thought I could even see our bodies from above, John’s naked back, budding with sweat, and my red face gasping beneath his right shoulder, but that may have been a trick of the mirror. Seconds later he rolled away with his mouth open in an expression of unmistakable reprieve.

  I burst to the surface, yelping and clutching at my throat. Then I cursed under my breath.

  “What the hell…were you…thinking?” I cried, bolting to my feet.

  “I thought you liked it that way,” John said from his back, unmoved. The gold crucifix gleamed from his nest of chest hair, never a forgotten ornament on his person.

  “Not that rough! You have to warn me before doing something like that!” I scrambled to find my clothes.

  John sat up. “No, don’t leave,” he said. He reached out for me, but I ignored the gesture. “Come on, you’re still going to stay, aren’t you?”

  “Fuck you,” I spat.

  John went to me and hugged me tight. I tried to pull away, but gave up and succumbed to his hold.

  “I have another job for you,” John said into my ear. “It’s at my house, a private poker game I’m hosting for a few of my associates. I want you t
o be there as a waitress. They’re high rollers, so the tips will definitely keep you busy for awhile.”

  “At your house?” I asked.

  “Tomorrow night.” He tucked a strand of hair away from my naked back and kissed me between the shoulder blades. “I’ll have a car pick you up.”

  4

  The next day was Saturday and I didn’t have to go to work at the casino. All the same, I put on my cocktail uniform and waited around for my ride.

  When a knock did come at the door I opened it to find Tom standing on my doorstep, dressed in all black and wearing a ski hat loose on the top of his crown. He was sweating, bags under his eyes, and he shouldered his way inside. I noticed a black SUV waiting in front of my house, a driver behind the wheel, watching me. I recognized the man as Tom’s buddy from his job at the car dealership.

  “Where the hell have you been?” I asked him by the door.

  “I’m sorry, Alice,” he said, taking my hand. His eyes were only on mine. “I’ve been laying low, preparing for a job. I couldn’t let myself be seen around you, or else you’d be in danger.”

  “What job?”

  “I’m getting that fucker back tonight,” he said with a mouth full of snarling teeth. “For what he did to me and you. I’m gonna break up his poker game tonight. He should be careful how he advertises his own private games, because I found out with just a little research. Found out about his wife too, and her role in the whole thing. Fucking sick. He should have known the word would get out about it. Huge players are gonna be there. All that cash. It’s ours, baby.”

  “Wait, what’re you talking about? Break it up?”

  “Don’t worry about that.” He leaned forward and kissed my forehead. “We need to leave town tonight. I need you to come with me.” When I didn’t answer, he continued. “I need you to be ready when I knock on your door later tonight. Can you do that? Suitcases…everything. Then we’ll start over and live like royalty in another place. Wait, what’re you wearing?”

  With his hands on my shoulders, he held me out at arm’s length and screened me up and down. My breath stalled in my throat. I was certain that he had recognized the cocktail uniform from the Salvador. So easily, my dirty secret was revealed, and I could do nothing to argue my case.

  “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but I like the new wardrobe.” Tom’s face broke out with a quickly spreading grin.

  I learned to breathe again and managed to laugh.

  “Do you understand, Alice?” he asked, serious again. “Will you be here tonight? Will you be ready to leave no matter what happens? Do you trust me?”

  I managed to nod and he kissed me on the lips this time, his hands on my hips, just like John liked to do.

  “I love you, baby,” he said, and then he was out the door, leaving me to shake in the entranceway. I hugged my arms over my breasts and shivered in the wind as the door slammed shut.

  Torn between the two men in my life, I didn’t know who better deserved the clear hand of justice that was about to bang us all into shape, Tom or John? Did John deserve to have all his money stolen from his poker game, an amount that barely constituted as pocket money for him? Or did Tom deserve whatever might be coming to him? Another beating? Perhaps death? How far would John go? I wondered if it would be so bad to follow Tom into the unknown adventure of life on the road, but could I live, always looking over my shoulder for John Krasner?

  An hour later another knock came at the door and I abandoned my pacing of the floor to open it. There was no one there, and I had just enough time to watch a car pull away from my driveway and speed off. Another car sat in my driveway and I walked outside in my clicking heels to discover a silver BMW parked neatly in the porch light. It was impeccable, the next year’s model with tinted windows and a cardboard sign taped to the windshield with the words: “It’s Yours…John.”

  I had to catch myself on the car door, where I found the keys dangling in the lock. I dropped into the driver’s seat and fumbled excitedly to insert the keys into the ignition. The GPS touch screen flickered into life, a single destination saved to it. It was titled: Krasner’s Court.

  I opened the directions to John’s house and followed the route with my finger. It was far away, that much I could tell. It was located a few miles down Park Street and through a bit of the suburban backwoods. The end of the line was in some part of the town I was not familiar with. It seemed to be a residence.

  Without over-thinking it, I put the car into drive with the express purpose of a joyride. I turned off onto the main road, but decided I might as well follow the blinking icon on the GPS screen. It led me to a smaller neighborhood, tucked away behind a large church and cemetery. Once I thought it was safe enough, I tested the eight-cylinder engine, just to see what it could do. In a matter of seconds I was slicing around tight bends at forty miles per hour, as if I was on the track of a rollercoaster ride. I whooped happily, my worries for the night temporarily forgotten.

  I watched as sad stop signs flitted past and parked cars happened surprisingly close, so close in fact, that one of my side-view mirrors completely vanished. I cursed and braked fast. I quickly scavenged the street and found the dead piece of plastic in a person’s lawn, the mirror significantly cracked. I didn’t bother to check the other car, but did check the Beamer’s paint job. It looked fine in the streetlight, but there was no ignoring the missing side mirror. I tossed it into the backseat and sped away.

  I found myself on a dark street with fences lining my left and right sides. There were houses behind those fences, all painfully quiet and dark. The loneliness was starting to get to me. All I wanted to do was go back to my house and crawl into bed. I wanted to turn around, but my destination was close.

  The red dot on the screen pulsated with a quickening pace. There were very few houses on this next street, but they made up for their numbers with impressive size. I was in a wealthy neighborhood, one with marble fountains gracing the front lawns and sports cars in driveways. Once the GPS started to beep and flash, I triggered my turn signal and pulled to the curb.

  I checked the GPS and picked out the correct house, just across the street from me. It was quite beautiful. It had three floors and a line of miniature lamps leading up to the massive double doors. To my surprise, all the windows were black and empty, except for the downstairs. Now that I was there, I decided I could leave. There was nothing to attach me to John or Tom. I could start over, take the car and drive to a new state.

  Then a light suddenly blew up in one of the upstairs windows. I looked up with baited breath. A woman’s torso eased into the window frame, bare breasted, and reflecting angelic yellow light from the interior of the room. She was gorgeous, peering out into the night for a long moment before resting her eyes on the car. I realized that my headlights were still on and I fumbled to tear out the keys. Now the girl was clearly interested, leaning out the window with her scarlet hair billowing like a yawning flag. She looked to be around my same age, late twenties at the most.

  Once the keys were liberated from the ignition, I dared to look back at the house. The girl was still there, and motioned for me to get out of the car, but I did not budge. The girl smiled and continued to wave her hands in the air. I finally stepped out and tried my best to return the smile. She yelled something down at me, and I sauntered closer to hear.

  “What’s that?” I called.

  “Don’t wait outside. Come in!” she repeated. The woman ducked her head back into the room.

  I swallowed hard and forced my feet to follow the stone walkway, up to the front doors.

  I managed to knock on the front door and it opened at once. A tall man in a nice suit and white gloves filled the doorway. He leaned forward at a crooked angle to inspect my face. Then he withdrew and the red haired girl was standing there in the dim darkness, her fine porcelain skin standing out like a mirror for the moonlight. Though she wore no clothing, she made no attempt to cover herself. Again she motioned for me to come closer. I hes
itated, half expecting the tall man to reappear.

  “Come in,” the woman called. There was something about her smile and the way she remained so still and comfortable in the cold night air.

  I returned the woman’s smile, careful to keep my eyes elevated as I was led inside. A parlor door stood closed to our right, and judging by the hooting laughter and voices from beyond, I knew that was the location of the private poker game.

  Though it was dark, the naked woman knew right where to go. She took my hand and pulled me up onto a wide staircase. Right when my eyes were beginning to adjust, a light came on in the ceiling. I found myself inside an extravagant room with a ridiculously large bed and an assortment of plastic plants hanging off the walls and fanning out of ceramic pots, which sat in awkward places around the room. One of the plants was situated in the middle of the floor, right at the foot of the bed, and another sat on a rocking chair as if it were just another guest. There were no other pieces of furniture in the room. A lot of it remained empty, which only made it seem that much more spacious and overbearing. A lone painting hung on the opposite wall, depicting a red fox stretching its legs atop a fence. There were no televisions or lamps or desks; only the large bed and all those fake plants.

  “This is…quite a room,” I said. I finally circled around to face the woman. I was able to get a better look at her in the light, and once more, my eyes were caught wandering up and down the length of her body. The woman played absently with her long hair.

  “It’s alright I guess. It’s only here to keep the bed,” the woman said.

  “What’s so special about it?” I asked.

  “It’s only the most comfortable bed you’ve ever seen.”

  She pushed me back into the covers and all the muscles in my body reduced themselves to putty.

  “What’d I tell you?” the woman said with a laugh.

  I stared up at the ceiling, faintly groaning inside my throat.