Sugar

Chapter 7: Bristol

I'm not the type of person to risk my career and my character just because I'm attracted to someone. I felt Gwen's jealousy toward me the first few days we worked together, when she kept giving Jared the side eye whenever he acted nice toward me. But I've been trying to prove to her that I'm a trustworthy assistant, not the type of girl who sleeps with her boss. I will admit that I still feel my heart beating faster whenever I'm around Jared, but I've learned how to deal with it and not let it distract me.

Sometimes, like today, I go home (up to the 70th floor, really) and I lie down on the plush sheets of my king-sized bed, staring at the ceiling until my heartbeat slows down. I take some deep breaths as I recall the way Jared's eyes bore into me while he asked me some innocent questions about myself—Where was I from? (Here.) What high school did I attend? (The Spence School.) Did I have any siblings? (Yes, two older brothers.)

He seemed curious about me, which I can understand, because I've been reluctant to reveal much about myself. It makes me feel too exposed whenever he looks at me, like he's trying to figure out my deepest fears and desires. I would rather keep those hidden, because I've learned from experience that people will use that information as a weapon.

And I remember Gwen's icy stare fixed on me whenever I talked, but she wasn't trying to figure me out. She was looking at me in a way that was almost maternal, in a way that made my skin crawl because it seemed like she had already figured me out.

All of this is overwhelming, but at least I can't say my job is boring. I feel the heat rising to my cheeks as I think about how small I felt, sitting between the two of them on the couch and typing on my laptop while their eyes flickered to me once in a while, like they were scrutinizing me. It's such a trippy feeling to be working so closely with two people in their forties—I overhear their arguments sometimes, like they're a married couple and they forgot I was there in the background, listening. But they also seem acutely aware of me at all times, so I can never really relax around them. Thinking about this makes my heart race again, and my fingers instinctively reach for the buttons of my pants. Oh God, Bristol. I hate the way Jared's voice and the smell of his cologne always make me a little wet. Now it seems I only have to imagine it.

In no time, I'm lying on my bed in nothing but my silver necklace. Just lightly touching myself with my fingertips brings me close to the edge—I'm already soaked, my back arching off the bed, gasping softly. I've never been more grateful that Jared said there are no security cameras on this floor. Then I think about his veiny hands and the way he sometimes taps me on the shoulder when I've done something that pleased him—"That's how a report should be written. Great job." I imagine it's his hand on me right now, and I bring myself over the edge twice.

I crawl under the covers and wrap myself in that impossibly soft comforter, exhausted. I wish I could just sink into the bed right now. It feels so warm, it's almost like someone's holding me in his big arms, and I want to just fall asleep. I always get sleepy after an intense orgasm. So I close my eyes for a quick nap.

Two hours later, I wake up from the golden hour sun streaming in through the curtains. I put on some shorts and a tank top, and open the curtains to look at the city below. It's been a while since I've been this high up, and I can understand why Jared and Gwen are so confident all the time—living at the top of the Simmons & Co. building feels like the entire city of New York is under your grasp. It must give them an overwhelming feeling of power and control to stand at their windows and stare at this view every day.

Standing up here, watching the orange sun move across the sky and bathe the city in its glow, I feel like I can do anything. It's comparable to...I don't know, maybe the feeling I had when I walked down fifth avenue with my dad's credit card when I was twelve?