Sugar

Chapter 16: Jared

 Every morning during our normal workdays in the office, Bristol brings me a cup of black coffee from the coffee shop in the lobby. For herself, she gets an iced latte, just simple, with nothing like oat milk or coconut milk or 30% sugar.

I have been slowly getting to know her, and I've been monitoring the way she compiles defenses for the courtroom. She's smart, and incredibly sharp for a first-year attorney, and she listens intently when I tell her about better ways to formulate legal arguments. I find myself wanting to challenge her, to guide her to be the best she can be. She's always so eager to learn from me, and it's endearing.

Sometimes when I watch her working on her laptop, looking flawless and most likely doing a flawless job as well, I almost forget she's human. I've never met anyone so alluring. But it's the little facts I learn about her, like how she loves pineapple pizza and James Bond movies, that intrigue me even more, because beneath that enchanting exterior, Bristol has a whole inner world that I barely know about.

Don't take this the wrong way. I do not see women as objects. But of all the women who have passed through my life, most of them have only piqued a mild curiosity in me. Nothing like the interest I have about Bristol. I feel like I could sit and talk to her forever.

We were in my car the other day, and it was a longer car ride than usual, because we were coming back from a business meeting down in Jersey. It was late at night because they'd insisted on having a cocktail social after the meeting. During the social, I had watched Bristol flutter around the room in her navy blue dress, her hair pinned back in soft waves, conversing with our investors and their wives like she was born to do so. Her charm has gotten us better business deals than my negotiation tactics ever did. But she got tired after a while, and she found me in the back room where I poured us glasses of champagne. In the car afterward, she looked deep in thought, like something was bothering her. I asked her why she was sad, and she said, "I don't know, sometimes I just get sad for no reason. Sometimes I care too much about what other people think."

I told her that I understood, and that she should try to love herself more. She's the type of person who's so easy for others to love.

It's been a week since our thing with Gwen, but I haven't touched Bristol since. I haven't touched either of them. Gwen told me that she wanted to stop, and she wanted to go back to just being friends, without the benefits. I agreed without a second thought; I had more important things occupying my mind, anyway.

I'm working in my private office now, and I hear an instantly recognizable knock on the door. "Come in," I say.

"Mr. Simmons," Bristol says, walking elegantly into the room. "I have the papers for the Hastings case."

"Come on," I say. "You know you can call me Jared by now."

She smiles and shrugs. "Okay."

I take a cursory glance over the stack of papers. "Do you have these summarized?"

"Yes, I do. Would you like me to go over them with you now?"

It drives me crazy, the way she still talks to me in a formal, detached way whenever we're in the office. "Sure," I tell her, motioning her over to my side of the desk.

She stands next to me, leaning over my shoulder to point at the document as she tells me the key details. She's wearing a dress today instead of her usual blouse and pants, and she stands so close that her arm accidentally brushes the sleeve of my suit whenever she moves. I try to concentrate on the document's contents, instead of on the smooth skin of her collarbone and the curves of the tops of her breasts. It's a tough battle, though, because her floral perfume is putting images in my head of her squirming underneath me while my cock moved in and out of her.