The Mistress ✓

16

Onika

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Excuse any errors.

I don't know why I even bother attempting to work for the rest of the day. I can't concentrate on anything except the sex toy that I washed in my small connected private bathroom, wrapped in a paper towel, and shoved in my purse---after I spent nearly an hour removing the henna.

Five o' clock comes and goes, but I don't leave the office. The longer I stay here, the longer I can put off following another one of her orders.

Its after seven when someone knocks on my office door. My shoulders tense immediately, and I squeeze the edges of my desk. 

It's not her, I tell myself as I force my body to relax. Fenty would never knock.

I call out for whoever it is to enter, and Tiffany pokes her head in. "I thought I saw your light still on. I figured  after our victory today, you'd be out celebrating."

Out celebrating. Something I no longer have the freedom to do...or do I?

"You know me, workaholic to the core."

"That's the truth. Which is why I brought the celebration to you." She producess a bottle of champagne from behind her back.

I stare at the bottle in surprise. "I didn't think you drank. You never try the whiskey."

Her teeth catch her bottom lip, and she looks at me with a sheepish expression. "This might get me fired, but...I just don't like whiskey."

I pretend to cross myself like I'm a priest and she sinned in my presence. "Are you serious?"

She nods and her smile returns. "I'm sure Seven Sinners is the best there is, which is why I can market the hell out of it. But after this one night, freshman year of college where my brand-new roomated ended up holding the garbage can while I puked from the top bunk in our dorm room, I haven't been able to touch the stuff again."

I bring my hands together in a steeple, with my index fingers pressing against the bridge of my nose, and picture it with a laugh. "Fair enough. I have a similair version to gin. It tastes way too much like those pine-tree air fresheners when you puke it up. Or, at least, the cheap gin I drank in college did. Now I stick to good whiskey."

"Only Seven Sinners?"

I shake my head. "No, I make sure to sample as much of the competition as possible. You have to know what your rivals are doing to make sure you're doing it better."

She lifts the bottle of champagne in her hand. "So, does that mean no champagne toast to celebrate?"

There's so much hopefulness in her voice, coupled with the fact that I'm in absolutely no hurry to leave, I can't help but agree. "I've got some glasses we can use. They're not champagne flutes, but it means we don't have to go upstairs to track some down."

Tiffany grins. "I'm not fancy. I was willing to settle for the company coffee mugs." She takes one of the leather club chairs on the opposite side of my desk and holds out the bottle. "Want to do the honors?"

I remember the last time I popped a champagne cork. It was in my townhouse on my wedding night, and Meek couldn't manage to get it open. 

Now I wonder if alcohol was all he had that night. Any good memories I tried to hold on to after his betrayal are now tainted by what Megan told me. My husband was a con man and a cokehead, as well as a cheating son of a bitch. I force the knowledge down as I accept the bottle from Tiffany.