Martha Fletcher has only ever had one job- Executive Assistant to Sam Courtenay.
She'll schedule his diary, pick up his dry cleaning, usher girls out of his apartment first thing in the morning... nothing was out of bounds until one night, that blur...
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Waking up next to Martha was something I'd never get used to. Having spent an evening together, I suggested she may want to stay the night instead of traipsing home at thirteen minutes shy of midnight, something that she readily agreed with. We slept together in the purest form of simply sleeping, without it going any further than cuddling in the middle of the night. It felt natural to be with her, the way her body fit against mine and how she would mumble my name as she nuzzled at my neck. If this is what it's going to be like for the rest of our days, sign me up now.
Her blonde hair, naturally highlighted thanks to years of the Australian sun, was curtaining her face, a few strands ticking her nose and making her wrinkle it in a way I found achingly adorable. Martha's arm was draped over my exposed chest, the tips of her fingers tickling their way along the ridges of my stomach muscles while her lips brushed my jawline before drawing into a smile.
"G'day," her soft voice whispers. Looking down at her, I watch as her eyes open slowly, the blue of her eyes visible under her fair eyelashes. It was strange to see her without a scrap of make up but I had to admit, she looked far better au naturel. "You've got really bad morning breath."
Turning away, I laugh. "Thanks, I'll try not to be offended by that."
"Mhm, ok. What time is it?" Martha asks. Lifting her head slightly, she attempts to reach over me but fails, falling onto my chest and making me groan. "I'm not that heavy, I'll have you know."
"You weigh less than a feather," I agree, going to great lengths to keep the sarcasm out of my tone. Looping my arm around her, I cradle her in my arms as I roll her over onto her back so that I'm looking down on her. "I must say, you look rather good in my shirts. What are your plans for today? If you're free, maybe we could go out for lunch."
Her cheeks flare red as she looks down at what she's wearing. Since she hadn't planned on staying last night, Martha hadn't brought any spare clothes with her, meaning that she had to sleep in a spare pair of my pyjamas and all she had with her was a pencil skirt, a floral shirt and high heels, clothes that she wouldn't usually wear on her day off.
That said, Martha insisted that we go out together, listing all the places near my house that had received decent reviews. I declined all her suggestions, instead insisting that we go back to her place so she can change and then go out to one of my favourite breakfast places.
"Fine but I need to brush my teeth before stepping foot outside your door," Martha announced as she pushed me away from her. Hooking her leg around me, she pivots until she's straddling me. "Can I use your toothbrush, please?"
Ten minutes later, with both Martha and I wearing my clothes, I lead her out to my car and make sure she's safely inside before closing her door. The drive from my house to hers took twenty minutes, most of which was spent stuck in traffic, giving us plenty of time to argue over which radio station we should listen to on the drive. She wanted Radio One, I wanted Radio Two. We ended up listening to Heart Radio, as a compromise.
