On the Same Page

 

The pay was good; the sex was even better. No. I wasn’t getting paid for having sex with my boss. I was getting paid for being his assistant. The sex was just an added bonus. In fact, I would have paid him to have sex with me.

Yeah, he was that good.

It didn’t start out like that, though. I disliked him at first sight even though he had to be one of the best looking men I’d ever laid eyes on. But looks can be deceiving and he looked good. However, he was overly obsessive and somewhat rude. He was tall. Handsome. I liked his hands, which were wide and strong looking. But him? As a person? I didn’t like him. He was arrogant. He was one of those super-successful businessmen who knew he was the shit. He had it all—the penthouse in the expensive neighborhood, the driver who rode him around in a sleek black European car, the maids, the underlings, the expensive watches, the tailored suits. He had all the trappings of success. He had everything. Everything but me, that is.

I wouldn’t let him have me. Well, not at first, at least. We weren’t on the same page, as they say. I was in a subservient position, one I didn’t like finding myself in and one that he wouldn’t let me forget. I had some resentment because of it. I guess it came out and he treated me in kind.

“You can be such a bitch, Chloe,” he told me one day. “Why are you such a bitch?”

“Because I don’t like you,” I told him, just to irritate him. He wanted everyone to like him though he, himself, was one of the hardest people in the world to get along with.

But, as I was saying, at that time I didn’t really like him that much, especially not in that way. But after a while? Oh, yes, I did, very much so though I couldn’t let on like I did. I kept up the bitchy façade and he tried his best to please me; sexually, I mean. The thought of he and I having wild sex never left me, even when I went home on Saturday nights. I would think of him all week, the lust building in me as the days went by. On Mondays I could contain it. On Tuesdays I was getting antsy. On Wednesdays I was nearly out of my mind. On Thursdays I was giving my vibrator a run for its money. On Fridays I was back to containing myself but just barely. But by the time I saw him on Saturday mornings, it was hard to hold myself off of him. Even so, it took us a while to warm up to each other.

But for the longest time I didn’t let him know my feelings. I didn’t want him to know I wanted him. Every girl wanted him. Every woman wanted to be his plaything, to be his girlfriend, to be his wife. He was wanted by many, many women. I didn’t want to seem like one of those girls and it came out in bitchy behavior.

It’s just that he drove me crazy with all his little obsessions. This led to me smarting off about something, how his hair looked like it needed a little trimming or how a proposal seemed a little over-worded. Things like this drove him crazy and sometimes he spanked me for my insubordination. He did it to emphasize that I was a bad girl who needed to be put in her place. Well, that much was obvious.

Before that, though, there was Ted. Ted was the man I’d had an affair with prior to meeting Mr. OCD Businessman. Ted was the man I had previously longed for and wished I hadn’t let get away. But my boyfriend, and my guilt about having an actual affair, got in the way. I couldn’t leave my boyfriend for him, that much was easy to figure out. But what I really didn’t want to give up was my security. I loved having my comfortable life. I loved my job and, yes, even though he was no Ted, I loved my boyfriend.

However, he began to bore me after Ted. I couldn’t stand to be around him. The breakup was rather quick. I just withdrew and started bitching about everything in sight. Soon enough, he got the hint and packed up and left one day while I was at work. The note on the kitchen counter? It was simple and effectual: I’m sick of it. You can have it.

He may have given me my freedom but he also left me with an expensive lease on our one-bedroom mid-town apartment. The lease wasn’t up for months. I was stuck with it. If I wanted out of it, I’d have to pay a lot of money I simply didn’t have. I made good money, but not enough to cover all of my expenses and my rent. Of course, I could have gotten a cheaper apartment. I could have moved to another part of the city. But I didn’t want to. I loved my neighborhood and I loved my apartment. It was the apartment all young women want when they move to the big city. It was in an older building, had unique characteristics and, oddly enough, had been a steal at the time we signed the lease. It was the deal of a lifetime. However, it still took two incomes to cover it. I couldn’t afford it on my salary alone. But to let it go without a fight? No. I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. I knew I was hanging on to the ideal, even if it was to my detriment.

I was in a pickle. But at least now I was free to call Ted. However, something inside of me just wouldn’t let me. I don’t know if I subconsciously knew he wasn’t the one for me or that I was kinda digging having all this freedom. I’d been in a relationship most of my adult life and the thought of diving right back in, even though the sex was that hot, was unappealing.

Regardless, there was still the issue of my rent. It was an astronomical amount to pay and, with my boyfriend out of the picture and no longer helping, I was going broke fast. It was inevitable that I had to start dipping into my savings just to cover it. After a few months of this, and the new of living alone had worn off, I realized that I was going to have to do something about my situation. I had to get a raise. I approached my boss with it one morning.

“Come in,” she said and motioned me into her spacious corner office. She smiled at me and asked, “How are you, Chloe?”

I smiled back. She and I were on good terms and worked well together. She was nice and I hoped the fact that she liked me would reward me with some extra cash. So, I said, “I’m fine, Alexis. And you?”

“Couldn’t be better,” she replied. “What can I do for you?”

I sat down in one of the two chairs in front of her desk. “Listen, I know you are strapped for time so I am just going to cut to the chase. I need a raise. Badly.”

She stared at me with a sight look of shock combined with sadness. “I’m sorry, Chloe, but I can’t swing it. There’s simply no room in the budget for pay increases. You know yourself there have been cutbacks.”

I nodded. I knew this. It was true. I knew I was very lucky to have my job but the pay just wasn’t cutting it. If she couldn’t help me, I would have to find a better paying job and, let’s just say, finding a better paying job in this economy was an impossibility. And even then I’d probably still have to move once the lease was up on my apartment.

She stared at me sadly and said, “I wish I could help.”

“Me too,” I said and took off my glasses then rubbed my eyes. What a mess I had gotten myself into with Ted. I should have run from him. But the sex had been so good, so great. Yeah, it was worth it. But soon, if things didn’t change monetarily, it wouldn’t matter. I couldn’t live on a memory.

She sighed and said, “Listen I heard something through the grapevine and I am going to preface this by saying, I don’t like my employees moonlighting.”

I sat up. What was she talking about?

“There is someone who is looking for a person to assist them on the weekends,” she said.

“Okay,” I said, nodding.

“I just hate this,” she said. “I don’t want you to do this, but it might be a good option. Bottom line: Sven Aslin is looking for an assistant. Just for the weekends. I heard about it over lunch the other day.”

“Sven Aslin?” I asked, mouth agape. He was, like, one of the biggest big shots in the city. He was, like, rich. He was very well respected by his peers but to others he was a real asshole. I’d seen his pictures in the papers, always with a big-boobed blonde hanging on his arm. If that was any indicator of what he was like, that meant he was narcissistic, and, apparently, very superficial.

“Yes,” she said and wrote something down on a piece of paper. “His current assistant used to work for me a few years ago. She and I ran into each other at lunch, like I said.” She leaned over and handed me the piece of paper. “Here’s her number.”

I took it and stared at it.

“She just got married and can’t work on the weekends for him anymore,” she said. “Call her. It might be a good option for you until, perhaps, we can do something here.”

I nodded. I didn’t like the idea of working on the weekends that was for sure. When would I do my laundry? Clean my apartment? Grocery shop? And what about working out? Those two days off were the only days I actually got to the gym. Fuck! Life was so hard sometimes. But I’d brought this on myself by getting some sex on the side. It was my fault and I should have not done it. Damn Ted anyway.

“Thank you,” I said and stood. “I’ll call her on my lunch hour.”

“Chloe,” she said before I left the room. “Be careful. I’ve heard quite a lot about Sven. He can be a handful.”

I nodded. It wasn’t him I was worried about. I was worried about me.

 

* * * * *

 

His assistant set up an interview for eight o’clock that evening. Good thing, too, as I had to work late and his offices were within walking distance from my building. I grabbed a quick bite to eat on my way over, stuffing a slice of pepperoni pizza in my mouth and sipping on a soda. Of course, some of the grease from the pepperoni dripped onto my shirt, so I went into the bathroom in the lobby and tried to dab it off. The water only made it worse. Great. I looked a wreck. My hair was disheveled. My eyes were tired. My skirt was wrinkled and, now, my shirt was greasy. I should have just gone home and said to hell with it.

Again, I should have just moved. I should have tried to find a way out of that apartment. But it was almost a matter of pride for me at that point. I had to do this. I had to make it work. I had to prove to myself that I could do this without a man. I couldn’t fail.

His secretary, who was obviously pissed off that she had to work over for me, gave me a terse smile then showed me into his spacious office and then shut the door behind her. The room was empty and I had time to look around at the super-expensive Herman Miller desk and the Eames chairs and the modern, tufted leather sofa. I sat down in one of the two chairs in front of the desk and glanced around the room. Nice. Very, very nice. And the taste was exquisite, of course. There was very little clutter and the books and knickknacks on the shelves were placed just so. Typical OCD personality. I didn’t know if I was up for this or not.

As I looked around the room, I began to wonder what kind of man was this guy, really? Was the mid-century décor and super-neat surroundings just a product of his decorator? Or was he really into this stuff? I didn’t know but I did appreciate it. The modern art on the walls, one of which looked like a real Warhol, really intrigued me. Really? Seriously? This guy had to have some major cash.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” someone said behind me.

I turned to see him walking quickly and with purpose into the room with his hand extended towards me. I rose out of my chair and held out my hand. He gave me a hasty shake then went behind his desk, sat down and loosened his tie.

“So,” he said. “You are Chloe?”

“I am,” I said and sat back down.

“Sven Aslin,” he said. “You know of me? Yes?”

I stared at him. Did I detect a slight Swedish accent? I think I did. “Are you Swedish?” I asked. I mean, I knew he was. I just didn’t expect the slight accent. It was nice, though. I liked it.

“I am,” he said. “From Sweden. But I have lived in America since I was a teenage boy. My mother is American. She and I came over here after my parents’ divorce.”

“Oh,” I said.

“To cut to the chase,” he said and leaned back in his chair, staring at me. “I am looking for someone to work with me on the weekends. The job would involve some clerical duties, some light shopping, perhaps, and accompanying me on business trips to tend to my needs. How are you on the computer?”

“Fine,” I said. “I know the basics, of course. PowerPoint, Word, Excel, things like that.”

He nodded. “Good, that is all I require, really.” He sighed. “I am not an easy man to work for, Chloe. I demand quite a lot out of my assistants. I will require a lot out of you. If you fuck up on me, I will fire you on the spot. If you do not do as I request, I will fire you.”

My face burned a little with his words. He was a hard-ass. I hadn’t expected that of him. He was handsome with dark blonde hair that was cut short. Oh, God, he was very handsome. His eyes were a light blue and his skin looked fresh and tanned, as if he’d just come back from a Bahamas beach vacation. I liked him well enough. Well as far as looks went anyway but I could tell this man didn’t pull any punches and he certainly didn’t take any shit.

“My assistant refused to work for me on the weekends anymore,” he said. “She threatened to quit. But she just got married and I like her. Good assistants are hard to find so I could not fire her. I decided to compromise instead.”

I supposed that was nice of him. I didn’t really know for sure because she might have been the only person who could stand to work with him. I could tell he was going to be very, very demanding.

“So,” I said. “You have an assistant and a secretary?”

“Yes,” he said. “My secretary handles a lot of things that happen here in this office and my assistant handles things that happen out of the office and helps also on a more personal level. I need a lot of help,” he added with a slight chuckle.

You could say that, I thought sarcastically to myself. But I kept my mouth shut. I needed this job. I couldn’t fuck it up. I could put up with him. I could do what he wanted, collect my pay and go on with my life. And probably still end up moving to another, cheaper apartment. Why didn’t I just go ahead and give in and save myself the trouble? And I knew that Sven was going to be trouble. A lot of trouble.

“I can’t stand it anymore,” he said suddenly. “What the fuck is that on your shirt?”

I jerked a little at his words then looked down at the grease stain and said, “Pizza. Sorry. I didn’t have time to change before I came over.”

“Are you working late every day?” he asked, staring at the stain.

I shook my head. “No, not every day. Just a few times a month. Sales meetings, mostly, with foreign clients.”

He nodded that he understood. “I can’t have that. It’s bothering me. I can’t stand untidiness or uncleanness. I am a little OCD that way. You will have to change shirts.”

“Right now?” I asked, my eyes nearly popping out of my skull.

He nodded quickly, looking around. Then he got up, went to a door I hadn’t noticed and pulled out a freshly dry-cleaned shirt from the closet. He tore the plastic off, pulled it off the rack and handed it to me. “Go into the bathroom and change into that.”

I stared at him, then at the shirt. He was kidding, right? I looked more closely at him. He was not kidding. Fuck! He was going to be such an asshole! I was in for it, all because I had to have an affair with the best looking Englishman around. It was my fault but it was still painful.

“Fine,” I said and got up and went into the bathroom, took off my glasses and threw them on the sink then changed into the shirt. Sven was a big man so the shirt completely dwarfed my petite frame. I groaned and stared at myself in the mirror. Due to reduced circumstances, I had stopped coloring my hair the nice, honey-blonde it had been and the roots were coming out to the natural brunette it was. Soon, I’d be totally brunette again. It wasn’t a bad change, though. The darker hair contrasted well with my dark blue eyes. My face was pretty; I’d even been told I was beautiful on occasion, but I looked tired, like I needed a long vacation. I thought about my happy place, the Cayman Islands, and went there in my mind for a minute, imagining myself on the beach staring at the pretty waves of the ocean.

I opened my eyes and stared at my glasses on the sink and then back at myself in the mirror. What was I doing? Could I do this? It was going to be such a pain in the ass. I stood there for a moment or two contemplating what I was going to do. I was this close to putting my shirt back on and walking out. But I couldn’t.

I shook myself out of my contemplation, grabbed my glasses, put them back on and turned to the door, drawing in my breath and preparing myself. I opened the door and went back out. I exhaled loudly, hating that I’d been forced into this situation. But I had no other alternative. I needed the money and if that meant I had to put up with Sven, then that’s what it meant.

He nodded with approval, and what seemed like a little relief, at the shirt and said, “I have checked all your references and you come highly recommended. Can you start this Saturday?”

“Of course,” I said.

“Wonderful,” he said and wrote something down on a piece of paper and handed it to me. “That is my home address.”

I glanced at the paper and checked out his address. He had an apartment in one of the most exclusive neighborhoods in the city. Of course. Why wouldn’t he?

He said, “We will meet there and sometimes we will meet here. It depends on what I have going on during the week. Be punctual, never late. If you are late, I will fire you on the spot.”

I didn’t respond but I did take note.

“Also, we will work through our lunches,” he said and moved the pencil holder on his desk slightly to the left. As he did so, he said, “And I expect perfection. I know that you will not always be able to achieve it but you must make the effort. I don’t like incompetence.” He stared at the pencil holder, ascertained that it was in the correct position, then slightly moved his keyboard to the left. “If you are not nearly perfect, you will be fired on the spot. We must work together, as a team. If we don’t get along well enough, you will be fired. Understood?”

Hard. Ass. Control. Freak. This was the main reason why I disliked working for super-rich, super-successful people. To get to their level, they had to be a little off their rocker and totally egomaniacal. It didn’t work any other way. And he was very much an egomaniac and a little off, too. I mean, he was taking time to work out the exact placement of his pencil holder and keyboard. I realized the office was all his. He’d probably designed it down to the last detail and arranged everything just so. I’d be willing to bet the cleaning lady got her ass chewed if he found anything out of place.

Poor woman. Poor me.

“So, Saturday,” he said and clapped his hands together. “Welcome onboard, Chloe. We will spend many hours working.”

Oh. Joy.

 

* * * * *

 

Well, at least the pay was excellent. That was one good thing. It would, basically, pay for the rent on my apartment and leave me some left over for the little luxuries in life like soap and coffee. I almost rolled my eyes. I never knew it would be this hard for a single woman to make it in the city.

Maybe I should have just moved. No, I should have just moved, told my landlord I didn’t have any money and said goodbye. I could have sublet the apartment or at least have gotten a roommate. But that wasn’t an option yet, just not yet. I was holding on, praying I could do this on my own. This job was the only option I had.

Yes, Sven drove me crazy. The job was tough and it took almost every spare hour I had on the weekends. I’d get up at seven and either meet him at his totally fabulous and jealousy-inducing penthouse apartment or at his offices. From there, it was non-stop work and he was always hovering around me, checking everything I did to see if I misspelled something on a proposal or to see if I’d put in the right numbers on a spreadsheet. He’d ask a thousand times if I’d gotten in touch with this business associate or that one. He’d ask over and over if I remembered his dry cleaning if his maid was out of town. He really needed that particular shirt or that particular suit. Did I get it? Was it cleaned? Was it cleaned properly? Be sure to place them in the closet properly, otherwise it would get wrinkled. He couldn’t have it wrinkled. Wrinkles would drive him crazy.

But not as crazy as he drove me.

He’d ask if I could make sure to schedule his dinner reservations at eight and then he’d ask me to confirm this. Then he’d remind me a thousand times to be sure I had made the reservations in the first place. Then he’d make me call the restaurant to make sure they had not screwed up his dinner reservations. They’re at eight, right? Eight on the nose. Eight? Right? At eight? Tell me, are they at eight? Have they been scheduled? At eight?

It was more than a bit maddening.

He had to have me around at all times, too. I even had to go with him while he played tennis and stand to the side just in case he wanted to dictate some correspondence. “Text that asshole Balder! Tell him that we have to meet Monday morning or it’s off! At eight!” he’d yell out of the blue and I’d text like crazy as he and his tennis instructor fought it out on the court: “Balder, Mon@8orOff!”

He just never stopped working. He never took any time off. Never. I repeat: Never. How he kept from having a major coronary was beyond me. I went to the ladies room one afternoon and was freshening up my makeup when he had the fucking nerve to pound on the door, asking me what I was doing, telling me if I wasn’t sick that it was time to get back to work! I didn’t see how he kept anyone working for him. He worked me like a dog. I was paid well but I earned every last cent. I now knew why he was so reluctant to lose his assistant and that’s because he’d never be able to get another one.

Not only that, my clothing, hair and nails had to be immaculate at all times. I had assumed that because we were working on the weekends I could dress down. Not so. The first day I showed up in jeans and wedges, he sent me right back home to change into business attire.

Of course, he dressed more casually on the weekends. Well, at least as casually as someone like him could. He’d occasionally wear his tennis whites or some khakis what were so starched they looked almost wooden. Sometimes he’d wear some black slacks with a blue silk button down shirt and no tie. (This was causal to him.) But me? No. It was skirts and heels. Not only did I get to dress up for my job during the week, I got to dress up on the weekends. Actually, I had to dress more nicely for my weekend job than I did for my normal job. Yea! And I had to stay neat as a pin, too, all fresh and clean. No stains, either. If I spilled anything on myself, it was back home to change. So, whenever I ate lunch, I began to hold the food away from me so I wouldn’t spill anything on my clothes because, if I did, I had to take a trip home to change. After a while, I stopped ordering anything that might drip or spill. And I always sipped my drinks through a straw. Heaven forbid if I splashed soda on my skirt!

The only saving grace was my baggy sweats and oversized t-shirts I’d fall into once I got home at night.

By Sunday night, I would be so exhausted I usually fell asleep on my couch. I’d dream of my happy place, the beach, and pray to win the lottery. But I never played the lottery, mostly because I was so tired I would forgot to pick a ticket up.

It was maddening. Sven was so obsessive compulsive I wondered how he even functioned. He was always checking and making sure things on his desk were in perfect alignment. Not a minute passed by that he wasn’t on his computer or on the phone, always, always conducting some sort of business.

If we weren’t at his apartment or at his offices, we were in his chauffeur driven car traveling across the city. And, even then, it was about work. I was either on my phone making calls or checking emails or I was on the computer typing something all while listening him yammer on his phone in Swedish.

Needless to say, I took a lot of aspirin during that time. He got on my nerves so badly, it took everything I had not to tell him to fuck off.

This went on for six months. By that time, I had begun to look for cheaper apartments. I didn’t care about the stainless steel appliances or the subway tiles in the bath or the perfectly worn wood floors anymore. Yes, my apartment was fantastic but it was not worth this. Nothing was.

One Saturday night we were, as usual, burning the midnight oil at his office. He’d poured us each a glass of red wine as a treat for working late. One thing about him, he loved his wine and he only drank the best, which was fine by me. I liked wine, too, though I wasn’t quite as enthusiastic about it as he was. So, I sipped mine as I pounded out a letter to someone as he dictated. He walked the floor behind me, sprouting off what needed to be said and sipped his wine as he did so.

As I typed, I’d pick up my glass, take a sip then set it back down close to the edge of the table each time so I could reach it more easily. This, of course, drove him crazy and he’d take the glass and move it more in the center of the table. He did stuff like this all the time and I didn’t even realize he was doing it as I’d been so accustomed to putting up with it.

But after about the third time, it suddenly dawned on me what he was doing. I glanced at the clock on the wall and saw that it was close to eleven at night. This pissed me off. Here I was typing my brains out and he was pulling his usual OCD shit with me. A flash of anger spread through my body. I lit up with it and felt my heart start to beat rapidly. I had had it. This was it. I should be home, sleeping or at least watching some TV. But, no, I was there with this lunatic. I decided then and there that no apartment was worth this torment and that I was moving. I was done.

He finally stopped dictating and told me to finish the letter off and yadda yadda yadda. I did so, then picked up my wine and took a small sip. Then I set it back down on the edge of the table. Without thought, he picked the glass up and placed it towards the center. I picked it up, moved it back to the edge and turned to him. He eyed me. I eyed him back and then I was just so sick of it. Seriously, I was sick of it. He and I stared each other down. He wanted to leap and move the glass but I had other things in mind. What is she going to do? he seemed to wonder.

I was going to fuck with him.

So, I tapped the stem of the glass lightly with my pen—clink, clink, clink—until it fell off the edge of the table and onto the floor. Wine spilled everywhere. There was so much I wondered if it’d been booby-trapped or something. I’d never seen such a mess and, for an instant, I regretted my actions.

He eyed the spilled wine, then turned to me. In a second he was on me and had me pulled up by my wrists. “You did that on purpose!”

I nodded. “Yeah, so what? You gonna fire me?”

He eyed me then thrust me away from him, going into the bathroom then returning with two washcloths, one wet and one dry. He blotted the wine with the dry one then rubbed the wet washcloth across the stain. I waited with anticipation to see what he was going to do to me. He continued to clean the stain, getting most of it up, then took the washcloths into the bathroom, came back out and turned to me.

“You can go now,” he said.

I nodded. I thought that’s how this would all end. Fine. Whatever. I grabbed my bag and started out the door when he threw up his hand. I halted and turned to him. “Yes?”

“The cost of cleaning the rug will come out of your pay,” he said.

“What?” I growled under my breath but didn’t say a word. Fine.

“And, just so you know, I will not be giving you a recommendation.”

“I don’t need your fucking recommendation,” I said. “I already have a job. I’m just doing this for extra money, that’s all.”

He nodded. “And what if I called your boss, who recommended me to you? She is one of my business associates and I do not believe she would like your behavior.”

“Are you threatening me?” I asked. “Because that sort of sounded like a threat.”

“No threat,” he said. “I do not do that. If I want to do something, I do something with no threat. That is the way I operate.”

He was such an asshole. He had such power and control it killed me, probably because I felt so out of control since I’d met Ted, had my affair and broken up with my boyfriend.

Without thought of consequence, I threw my bag down, stomped over to him and slapped him. Just like that. His head went to the side then came back to center so that his eyes were throwing daggers at me. I glared back at him, daring him to do something about it. Wanting him to do something about it. And, much to my surprise, he did.

He grabbed my arm and pulled me down with him into a chair so that my body was across his lap and my ass was in the air. Then he pushed my skirt up and he gave me a good, hard slap right across my ass.

Oh, no, he didn’t. Oh, yes. He did.

Before I could protest, he gave me another hard slap and another. I screamed as his hand slapped my ass each time. He was spanking me like I’d been disobedient and very naughty and that really pissed me off. I did try to wriggle out of his lap and gain some of my dignity back but he held me tight, not letting me move. Then he pretty much started to beat my ass.

Once it was over, he shoved me out of his lap and I teetered a little, trying to gain my balance. We stared at each other and I felt the sting on my butt. But then I realized something. He’d stepped out of line with me, way out of line. He had lost some of his precious control. And I had gained some. As he stared back, he realized it too and I could see regret begin to stamp itself over his face. It came out in ugly red blotches.

Well, well, well.

Without a word, I pushed my skirt down and picked up my bag again. I turned to leave and gave my ass a little wiggle before disappearing out the door.

 

* * * * *

 

“I would like to apologize,” he said, entering my apartment. “I was out of line.”

I had almost fallen over when the doorbell had rung an hour after I’d gotten home. I’d just stepped out of the shower and had thrown on my old, baggy pair of sweats and a white t-shirt. My feet were bare and my hair was still wet. He eyed me and I could tell that my sloppy appearance was bothering him. Good. That’s what he needed.

However, strangely enough I was glad to see him. I don’t know why but something about the way he took control of me and spanked me like that really turned me on. I would never admit it to him, but it did. I had a hard time admitting it to myself but it was true.

“I apologize,” he said and glanced around the room, seeming to breathe a sigh of relief that it was tidy, clean and organized. I could tell he liked my more modern taste in furniture and appreciated the expensive details of the apartment like the crown molding and the gas fireplace with the marble surround.

“Hmmm,” I said, thinking it over. It was good that he was apologizing. But I wasn’t about to let him know that.

“So, do you accept my apology?” he asked. “Can we move forward?”

“Maybe,” I said, turning to him. “However, I think you’re just afraid of what I might tell other people.” I smiled at him, loving the fact that I had him by the balls.

“Perhaps,” he said. “How much is this going to cost me?”

I thought about that. Yeah. I was certainly in the power position now.

“Name your amount,” he said, as if he were prepared to whip out his checkbook and write it out.

I didn’t answer. Mainly because I had other things in mind.

“Chloe?” he said. “Are we on the same page?”

He always asked me that. “Are we on the same page, Chloe?” Oh, it drove me mad. It was a business cliché I disliked. Everyone overused it but none more than him. “Chloe, are we on same page?” “Let’s get on the same page here.” “Chloe, I would like to be on the same page with you.” “Tell me we’re on the same page!” Just to shut him up, I’d eventually say, “Yes, Sven, we are on the same page.”

But, no, weren’t on the same page where this matter was concerned.

“Chloe,” he said. “Tell me how much.”

I didn’t want his money. I wanted something else from him.

“I’ll tell you what I want,” I said and went over and stood behind the sofa. I pulled off my sweats and kicked them to the side, then bent over the couch, my naked ass—still a little red from the spanking—in the air, inviting him to do something about it. Was I doing this? Really? Was I offering myself to him? Asking for another spanking? I was. Hey, I hadn’t been laid in a while and I’d never really been spanked. It was new to me and I liked it. I wanted a little more where that came from. And, really, where could you find a man that knew how to do that in this city? They were a rarity and he was going to do what I wanted him to do. It was that simple.

I didn’t even realize I could be like that, offering myself like that, that I could do something like that, which was a little slutty. But that was okay. Something inside of me guided me to this. Maybe it was because I was horny and needed to get laid, like an itch must be scratched. Maybe I was just looking for a connection, like the connection I’d felt with Ted. Sure, I was lonely and I was a little naughty but there was something about Sven that brought it out in me. A need had been awakened and I had to just go with it.

Besides, I loved sex. And it had been a while.

He didn’t move. I stood up and raised one eyebrow at him. He stared at me, at my tight ass and then at my face. We locked eyes and right then we both knew what we wanted from the other. We wanted to move on from this nasty little situation. He knew now where I wanted to take it. But where would he take it? Sure, he’d just wanted to buy me off. But I wasn’t that easy. He should have known that.

He took a deep breath and came up behind me, grabbed my ass with both hands and squeezed the cheeks. Then he pushed my head down until I was bent over the couch. Then I heard him taking off his belt. Wait a second! I didn’t want that! I just wanted a spanking. But before I could protest, he gave me a good hard lash with the belt. Whack! I shuddered. It burned. And then I gasped.

“I will not play with you,” he said. “I will not.”

Then what did he intend to do? I realized I was quite under his control then and very, very vulnerable. Had I pushed him too far? What was he going to do? And when? How long did I have to wait?

The belt came down on my ass hard again. This time it hurt worse. I couldn’t move or think straight. I just stood there and let him whip me. For a second I thought I should run but then I thought I should stay and see where this would lead. Yeah, I was totally turned on.

“Umm,” he said, pausing, and rubbed my ass cheeks. “Tight. Is your pussy as tight as your ass?”

Wow. Ummm… Ow. My ass hurt a little and gave slight throbs occasionally, but his words overrode any pain I felt from the belt. I hadn’t expected that from him. Pussy? I’d never, in a million years, expected that word to come out of his mouth. But it was nice that it had. He was a little dirty. I liked that and his words turned me on. They were gruff. I liked that. But I didn’t know if my pussy was as tight as my ass. I guessed so. Who asks a question like that? How do you respond to something like that? However, I pretended to shrug it off.

He leaned in over me and pressed his face close to my ear and whispered, “I am a man, Chloe. What if I take what I want from you now? How would you react? You offer yourself without thought. But what if I do as I please?”

“I don’t know,” I said, wondering the same thing myself.

He slid his hands in sideways between my legs, grazing my pussy which swelled and ached for more. I was wet almost instantly. He pulled back and then pushed my legs apart with his. I heard his zipper open. I tensed. Was he really going to do this? I had been foolish to fuck with him. He was crazy. I knew that for a fact. Now what? Now I had to wait and see what he was going to do.

Without a word, he pushed his cock, which was quite wide and long, in. I moaned as he began to fuck me. He pulled back, grabbing onto my shoulder to get a better position. Good for him and certainly good for me. I wanted him fucking me like this, dirty and good. That’s what it was—dirty and good. Hard and swift. I held onto the sofa and met him thrust for thrust. We fucked so hard, I thought we’d collapse on the floor. Within seconds, we were both coming and coming hard. It was that good. He grunted as he came, as his hot semen splashed inside my walls, as he released his lust. My orgasm exploded in my body and made me shake and shiver and once it passed, I fell to the couch, breathing heavily.

He stepped away from me, zipped his pants and left the room, closing the front door softly on his way out. I stared after him, then caught myself in the mirror across the room. I looked like someone who’d just had the fuck of her life. And I was.

I decided to take Sunday off to sleep in. I didn’t think he’d mind.

 

* * * * *

 

Sven sent me a check the next week. My eyes nearly popped out of my head at the number. I’d never seen so many zeros on a check before. It was sort of like I’d won the lottery, yet on a smaller scale. But no. He wasn’t getting off that easily. I sent the check back.

However, he wanted out of this mess and every week thereafter, I’d get a new check from him. Each one was for a little bit more, as if he were tempting me to call the whole thing off, as if he were testing me. I kept sending them back, sometimes with regret. Even though I could have used it, I didn’t want his money in this way. I wanted him.

I don’t know where I’d turned the corner with him. Before I’d disliked even being around him but suddenly, I wanted him, his cock especially, fucking me. I’d imagine us doing it, almost exploding from all the desire and passion. Suddenly, he looked good and I had to have him. Of course it was the initial spanking that did it. It was that act of control that sparked something in me, that revved up my need and desire and most certainly my lust.

Suddenly, Ted disappeared from my mind. Suddenly, I was no longer worried about the lease on my apartment. The guilt I’d felt over my boyfriend disappeared. Suddenly, all I wanted was Sven. He was all I thought about. It was weird, mainly because I’d only wanted to get away from him before.

On the next Saturday, I arrived at his apartment right at eight in the morning. I let myself in with the key he’d given me and threw my bag on the credenza in the entranceway. I took a minute to look around at the beautiful apartment, so tastefully and expensively decorated, and sighed. Then I took a left and walked into his oversized home office.

His office was designed around several large, floor-to-ceiling mahogany bookshelves that spanned the entire room. In the center of it was a large glass and metal desk that weighed a ton and cost a fortune. He told me once that they had to bring it into the apartment on a crane through the gigantic window. Behind it, his tufted leather office chair. Over to the side was a Chesterfield couch in camel. And looking out the window was Sven.

He was already up and dressed, sipping on coffee—two sugars and a splash, only a splash, of half and half—in a cup that read, “World’s Greatest Boss.” I knew whoever had given him that cup had been sucking up, obviously. Of course, he might have even given it to himself. He thought he was that wonderful. But in reality, he was the antithesis of a good boss. He was a bad boss. I just wondered why he used this particular cup so much. Did he actually think he was the world’s greatest boss? He was that egotistical, so it was a good possibility. However, the irony wasn’t lost on me, even if it was on him.

But that didn’t matter. When he saw me enter the room ready to work, his eyes widened a little. Without a word, I walked over to his desk, sat down and turned on the computer. Then I turned to him and said, “What’s on the agenda today?”

He started to say something but stopped himself. I could tell he was wondering where I was going with this, so he played along. Good choice. He had no idea where I was going but would soon find out. I’d been looking forward to this all week.

“Sven?” I said and adjusted my glasses. “What do we need to get started with today?”

“We need to go over the Larson files,” he said, then cleared his throat.

“Let me get them,” I said and went over to his filing cabinet.

We worked all day and even through lunch, as usual. He had some sushi delivered and we ate in silence as we worked. Around four in the afternoon, I excused myself to run an errand and returned an hour later.

“What took you so long?” he asked.

I stared at him and wondered why he, of all people, was getting snappy with me. “I dunno,” I said. “I had to buy some groceries and things for my apartment. I took the subway. It didn’t take that long.”

“Chloe, this isn’t going to work,” he said and got up from his desk and walked over to the couch. He sat down and stared up at me. “It’s not going to work.”

“Oh, it isn’t?” I asked and smiled at him. “What’s not going to work Sven?”

“This,” he said and waved his hands around as if to illustrate our situation. “Let’s stop this. I will hire a new assistant.”

Oh, hell no, he wouldn’t. I was his assistant. There was no way I’d let some new bitch come in here and take my place. He’d fucked me good the other night and he was going to do it again. Sorry, that was just the way it was now. He’d have to understand that.

I knew what made him uncomfortable was the fact that he had lost some control over me. That was fine by me because I liked having some control over him. However, once we started to get it on, then he could take over. He could have all the control he wanted. I wouldn’t argue with that.

“Is that what you want, Sven?” I asked and walked over to the desk, taking my place in front of it. “Or is this what you want?”

I began to unbutton my shirt, watching his eyes as I did so. He’d never seen my breasts or felt them before, mainly because when he’d fucked me the other night he’d just gotten down to business and did it without bothering with any foreplay. I could tell he’d been thinking about them, though, as I seductively began to unwrap the gift of my luscious breasts before him. And, yes, they were quite nice. They were a firm C and quite round.

I pulled the shirt open a little and took both hands and lightly rubbed my breasts over my bra. Then I slipped one finger into my bra, touching the nipple as I did so. He couldn’t take his eyes off me. I kept rubbing my breasts and watching him, lightly licking my lips as I did so.

“Chloe, this isn’t appropriate,” he breathed.

“Then how about this? Is this appropriate, Sven?” I asked and turned so that my back was now towards him and my ass was in full view. Then I pulled my panties off, threw them to the side and bent over the desk, spreading my arms out wide, moving his desk accessories and knickknacks out of place. I didn’t knock anything off or break anything, but he jumped up from the couch was about to cross over and start straightening things up when I said, “Nuh uh.” He stopped and watched me. I began to finger myself, finger my pussy, in front of him. I was so turned on, I almost came. I backed off and turned to him, loving the look of surprise and lust on his face and smiled.

“You know what I want,” I said and took off my glasses, throwing them to the side. “Are we on the same page?”

He didn’t answer. That was okay. It didn’t matter.

I smiled at him and took off my shirt, tossed it to the side then squared my shoulders and walked over to him. I got down on my knees and unzipped his fly and pulled his dick out. It was so hard, it throbbed. I guess my little show did the trick. Loved that. I smiled at it, at its thickness. Lightly, I licked the tip of it before sucking it into my mouth. He gasped as I did so, as I gave him a good, hard suck. I continued to do this until I tasted his sweet pre-cum and was about to finish him off when he tugged at my arms, indicating that I should stop. I did so and he bent down in front of me, sliding his hand under my hair and around my neck and pulling my lips to his.

And we kissed. It wasn’t a sweet, soft kiss, either. It was hard, with teeth bumping and tongues thrusting and mouths sucking. It was a hungry, ahhh-give-me-more kiss. We ate at each other and he pushed me back onto the floor. I fell back and he grabbed at my breasts, squeezing them before unsnapping my bra and pulling it off so they could be free to be sucked and nuzzled and played with. His mouth grabbed onto a nipple and nibbled it, sucked at it and ate at it.

I threw my head back and gasped with the feeling of delight. It felt so good. He kissed my face all over then went to my neck and there he sucked and licked until he went back to my breasts. My chest was red with his pawing at me but I didn’t care. I wanted more.

He sat back and ran his hand down my chest to my stomach and to the top of my skirt. He tugged at it until he had it off, so that I was now one-hundred percent naked in front of him. He gave my body a good once over, then pulled my legs apart before bending down and rubbing his nose, just slightly rubbing it, over my pussy until he found my clit.

“Ahhh!” I gasped as the climax hit and as it hit, he grabbed onto my clit with his mouth and sucked at it which strengthened the orgasm.

Once it dissipated, he settled between my legs and stuck his cock in me. I gasped as he immediately hit bottom and then he grabbed onto my head and fucked me. Like that. On the floor. I wrapped my legs around his waist and fucked back, moving my mouth to his so that we could kiss as we enjoyed the feeling of being joined together.

He began to come shortly thereafter, as did I. I squeezed every second of that orgasm out and rode him hard. Once it was over, he fell off me, breathing heavily and staring at the ceiling.

It struck me as odd that he and I had so much pent up passion as most of the time we acted as though we disliked each other. Well, maybe I acted like that. He might have liked me a lot but I couldn’t tell as he was one of the oddest people I’d ever been around. But I’d never had sex that good in my life, not even with Ted. I mean, it was good, it was great but this was different. I didn’t know why unless fucking someone you slightly loathe makes it more fun. Maybe that was it.

“Chloe,” he said. “We must finish our work soon. I have a function to attend.”

“Yes, Sven,” I said.

He glanced at me and said, “Would you like to accompany me? I don’t have a date.”

“No,” I said and sat up, looking around for my clothes. “I hate those things.”

“I will go alone, then,” he said. “I won’t ask you again.”

And he never did.

 

* * * * *

 

The next day was Sunday and I, again, took the day off. He didn’t call and ask why. He knew why. I suppose it was fine with him. I didn’t ask and he never mentioned it.

All week, while I worked at my other job, I imagined us fucking all over his office or in his apartment. I imagined us getting naked in the gigantic shower and letting the warm water spray down on us. I imagined us fucking on the couch in his office. Sometimes I imagined someone walking in on us and finding us doing that, having sex, and wondered what they would think. Would anyone ever imagine that uptight Sven was such a wild man in bed?

I didn’t know. I didn’t care.

One of the great benefits of us having sex was that he began to really loosen up. He stopped caring so much if everything was perfect. I was pleased but not surprised. Maybe all Sven had needed was a good fucking to make him relax. I know it certainly helped me.

We would always wait until mid-afternoon to start our love making or, as I liked to say, our fuck sessions. I knew he wouldn’t relax until he had finished some of his tasks. The wait just made it that much better and built up the anticipation.

And the anticipation was half the fun. I’d start feeling hot the moment I laid eyes on him. My panties would get wet, too, with want. We’d glance at each other every so often and I’d imagine him taking me, throwing me up against the wall and fucking my brains out. A few times I’d smart off to him about something and he’d do that, he’d take me like that. Sometimes he’d just push my skirt up and give me a spanking. That was the best. I loved that. I loved being spanked for my naughtiness. The spankings would lead to other things, things like us fucking wildly on his Persian rug or across his desk. It didn’t matter how it started as long as it lead to sex.

The more he loosened up, the better the sex got. It got so hot I couldn’t stand to be away from him during the week. But I never contacted him to have a quickie or anything like that. And he never contacted me. Even though he was a little more relaxed he was still a slave to his schedule and would not deviate from it. We fucked on Saturday afternoons and that was it. We gave it everything we had until there was nothing left. I had Sunday to recuperate before I went to my real job.

It was odd, but neither of us acknowledged our sex life. We didn’t ask questions about boyfriends or girlfriends or any of that. We just took it for granted that this was what we were doing during this time and that was it. It was almost as if we had an ongoing appointment.

“Chloe, I need some milk, please,” he said from his desk.

I glanced up at him from my position on the couch. He was really into reading something on the computer.

“Milk,” he said. “Please and thank you.”

He asked me to do stuff like this from time to time. So, without a word, I went into the super modern and expensive kitchen, got the milk out of refrigerator and poured it into a tall glass. I took it back to him and set it on the coaster beside his hand. As I did so, our hands brushed and we both felt a jolt of electricity. His head jerked up and he stared at me. I stared back and my heart began to pump wildly in my chest.

I went around the desk and sat back down on the couch. He stared at me, then picked up the milk and took a long sip. I took off my glasses, placed them on the side table and turned back to him. He stared at me and without a word, I started to unbutton my white top but he stopped me.

“No,” he said, coming around the desk, still holding onto the glass. “Stand.”

I almost smiled. It was almost time to get the party started. I stood and he came up beside me and then jerked his head, telling me to get in front of the desk. I did so and waited for his next command.

“Undress,” he said.

I had no problem with that. I took my time and unbuttoned my shirt, unsnapped my bra, wiggled out of my pencil skirt and pulled off my panties so I was only wearing my black stilettos. He nodded with approval, surveying my body. It looked good. It was firm and tight and though I wasn’t very tall, my limbs were long. Steadying myself with my hands, I leaned back onto the desk and crossed my ankles. If someone entered, they might have expected Sven to have a camera as it looked like we were doing some sort of high-fashion art shoot.

He crossed over to me, still holding the glass of milk and got in real close. I started to tingle as he began to kiss his way down my body, starting with my face, then between my naked breasts and to my flat stomach. Just light, soft and sexy kisses. He came back up and nearly touched my neck with his lips before pulling back slightly and pouring the milk down my shoulder until it streamed down between my breasts. He bent down and began to lap the milk up, licking it off my skin as he did so. It was the most sensual experience I’d ever had in my entire life.

He sucked every drop of milk off my body then turned me around. I went along with him and did as he wanted, bending over the desk and waiting to see what I was going to get.

This time, he simply spread my legs open and pushed his hard cock into me. I gasped and took every long and hard inch he had, even wanted more. Why not? I pushed against the desk and then pushed back against him to get more traction. He pumped into me for a good, long minute then stopped, pulled out and turned me around then put me up on the desk.

My legs opened for him to enter again. But he didn’t do that. He took a few minutes to caress my breasts with the backs of his hands, to finger the nipples, to lean forward and give each a light lick and a suck. He did his until I was so pent up with passion I began to finger myself. He stepped back and watched me touching myself. I kept at it, spreading the lips to show him everything, wanting his mouth on it, sucking the juices out.

He stepped back in and pushed my hand away and laid his hand flat against my pussy. I rubbed up against it, feeling his fingers move until they were inside me and the thumb was pressed up against the less explored area of my ass. I moved until he could slip it in and then he finger fucked me. As he moved his fingers around, I ground against his hand, getting so wet I almost slipped off the desk. I was about to come when he stopped, pulled me off the desk and put me up on all fours on the floor.

From there, he slid his hand between my ass cheeks, playing with me, making me moan loudly and start to beg him to fuck me. He kept at it until I was absolutely dripping then he gave his dick a hard stoke and gently, oh so gently, he entered me.

I threw my head back and moaned loudly. Oh, yes. It was so tight and good feeling. It felt so right and so damned dirty I couldn’t stand it.

One hand slipped around my body and made its way between my legs and stopped on my clit. As he fucked me, I rode his hand, moving with hard, slow thrusts as he fucked me from behind. It was too much and before I knew it, I was coming, as was he. We both wailed as the intense orgasms hit and shuddered with relief as they passed.

We collapsed on the floor with him on top of me. We lay there for a good few minutes breathing heavily.

After we caught our breath, he stood, held out his hand and helped me from the floor. We walked to the bathroom and he turned on the shower and we got in. He lathered me up from head to toe, taking the washcloth between my breasts and between my legs, giving me a quick, little orgasm before he pushed his mouth onto mine and began to suck at me. I sucked back, throwing my arms around his neck and pulled him into me. He was hard again. He was ready to fuck.

He grabbed me up around the waist and I threw my legs around him, squeezing him into me as his dick found its way in. We fucked slowly, staring into each other eyes, kissing each other’s mouth and sucking at each other’s necks. We fucked until we came, shuddering with the orgasms and then it was over.

“Chloe,” he said. “You are the best assistant I have ever had.”

It was the most romantic thing he’d ever said to me. I replied in kind, “I’d never thought I’d say it, but you are the world’s greatest boss, Sven.”

 

* * * * *

 

“Hey, isn’t this that guy you work for on the weekends?” Janie asked and showed me the paper.

I stared at her. She was a co-worker and we were having a quick lunch in the break-room before heading back to work. We’d known each other for years and occasionally went out to dinner at this little Italian place close to my apartment on Sundays. She’d been reading the paper as we talked and ate our deli sandwiches.

“I don’t know,” I said and glanced over at it, staring at the picture. It was indeed Sven. It was him and another woman, a bimbo, a beautiful buxom blonde, entering into some star-studded charity auction. I had foolishly thought that he attended those things alone after he asked me the first time. Oh, God, what if I’d overplayed my hand? What if I’d acted too aloof? I knew I had him but had I tried to play it too cool? What if I had been too easy? What if he was just using me for sex? What did that mean? Did I want something more? And was he getting something more, via the blonde bimbo? Was she in and was I out? Would she get him to tell her he loved her? He had never said it to me. Would he say it to her? No. He loved no one except maybe, himself.

Fuck. It was over. I knew then and there that it was over. I felt a little panic and wondered what the hell all this meant.

“Chloe?” Janie said and shook the newspaper. “Is that him?”

I didn’t let my surprise or shock show and said to her, “Yes, that’s him.”

“Good looking man,” she said. “Now, if you could corral someone like that, you’d have it made in the shade.”

She was right. But I hadn’t corralled him. After a few minutes had passed and some chitchat, I gave her a smile, excused myself and left the break-room. Then I went into my boss’s office and asked her for the afternoon off, telling her I was feeling like I was coming down with something. She obliged and told me she’d see me the next day.

But I wasn’t sick. Well, I was. Heartsick. I wanted to go home and cry. That was my intention. When I got there, I grabbed my mail out of my box and took it back to my apartment, threw it on the hall table and started to the couch. But then I noticed something. Sven’s check had arrived again today. It was like a sign.

I took the check and sat down on the sofa staring at it. This time it was for a really staggering amount, as if this time he’d really upped the ante to test me. Maybe he wanted me to break it off so he could be free and go back to his OCD ways and his bimbos. Maybe he didn’t like me anymore.

I stared around the apartment, remembering that I’d gotten the lease renewal this week. It was time to sign it again for however many years I was comfortable with. No, that’s not what I wanted. I was sick of it all, paying for a too-expensive apartment, running the never-ending treadmill that is life in the big city. Trying to get ahead, get ahead, get ahead while keeping up with every other woman in expensive shoes and clothes and purses. It was a rat race and I was losing. I was losing, simply, by running it.

I was over it.

The bottom line was that the check arrived and the lease was up on my apartment. That was where I was. I was there, in that moment. I had what I needed to move forward if I just had the balls to go through with it. It was as if all obstacles were moved out of my way and I was being shown the path to take, the path less taken, the one everyone really wants but is too afraid of undertaking.

I cashed the check.

Without thought, I put all my things into storage and resigned from my job. I bought a one-way ticket to the Cayman Islands and there I finally had the break I had always wanted. And with the money from Sven, I could stay on vacation for a good long while.

 

* * * * *

 

I rented a small beach house that, while it wasn’t directly on the ocean, had spectacular views. I could easily walk to the beach or to the market or wherever. I got a bicycle and would ride around the island on it, letting the soft ocean breeze blow my hair and take my cares away.

But I thought of Sven at least ten times an hour. I thought of what we could have had, if only one of us would have said something. But maybe I’d been right to leave. Maybe I’d been wrong. I just didn’t know and that killed me.

I had consigned myself to living a life alone when, one afternoon, the doorbell rang. I had been sitting on the balcony, staring at the magnificent view and wondering how I’d ever not been in this place. It was like heaven. It was so serene, so calming, and just so beautiful.

I went to the door, opened it and gasped. It was Sven. As I saw him standing there, I realized how much I’d missed him and how glad I was to see him. I almost threw my arms around his neck and hugged him but something held me off.

“Hello, Sven,” I said.

“I have looked everywhere for you,” he said. “I was out of my mind with worry.”

“Why’s that?” I asked, thinking of his blonde bimbo. “What about your blonde bimbo?”

“Huh?” he asked, staring at me. “What blonde bimbo?”

“The one you took to the charity auction.”

“She’s not a blonde bimbo!” he exclaimed. “That’s Melissa, my other assistant. I had to have someone attend with me and no one was available and she said she’d go. Besides, there was a painting there she was interested in bidding on for her husband.”

Oh. Fuck. Stupid me. Was I really that stupid? That insecure? Why hadn’t I asked? But then I realized why. Maybe I just wanted a change. I had used the blonde bimbo as my excuse. I had wanted to leave, to see if I could live without him. Or maybe, I just wanted to see if he would follow me. And he had. No one knew I was here and yet there he was, not even a week later.

“Chloe?” he said. “Is that why you left? You thought I was cheating on you?”

I shrugged. It was, mostly, the reason why.

“No,” he said. “I don’t cheat and I would never cheat on you. Never.”

I stared up at him and asked, “Why?”

“Because I love you,” he said without thought.

I was such a sap, but him saying that meant so much to me. And I loved him, too. I loved his weird OCD thing and I loved his handsome face and I loved the way he’d chuckle when I’d call him on his bullshit. I loved the way we argued and the way we made up. I loved us, together. I loved him. I loved him so much it hurt a little.

But mostly I loved the fact that he had found me, that he had followed me here to this heaven on earth. But I had to say, “What did you say?”

He turned to me and said, “I love you.”

His face flushed a little with the words but he didn’t let any embarrassment he might have felt back him down from his feelings. He was not a man that said things like that easily so the fact that he’d said it had to be returned in kind. I touched his arm and said, “Good. Because I love you, too.”

He smiled at me, gave me a quick kiss to the temple and said, “Why did you come here, Chloe?”

Oh, sure, I could go into a diatribe about feelings or lust or running away. I could talk to him and make him understand where I was coming from, why I had done what I had done. I could explain so many things. But I realized something. I didn’t care about anything like that. Living there just that short amount of time had made me take note of life and life was just life. Sometimes you win and sometimes you lose. Today I was winning. Knowing he did love me, that he cared enough to find me, meant so much. Why complicate the feeling with explanation?

I smiled and without a word, took his hand, leading him over to the French doors and walking him through them. I pointed at the crystal blue ocean and the sandy white beach. I said, “This is why I came here and this is why I intend to stay.”

He stared at me, then at the scenery, at the striking view. Then he breathed a sigh of relief and said, “I have always, always wanted this. But I have always been too afraid to actually do it. You have shown me many things, Chloe. You have helped me. I am forever grateful.”

“I can’t go back,” I said. “I won’t.”

He nodded. “That is a good choice.”

I grinned at him, loving the fact that he got it. Finally! Someone else got it like me. I said, “Sven, are we on the same page here?”

He nodded, smiling at me, showing me with his eyes that he did, in fact, love me. He said, “Yes, Chloe, we are on the same page.”