Antitrust (Completed)

Part 7: The Submission

Alright guys so this story title has OFFICIALLY been changed to Antitrust. Again, sorry for any confusion this might have caused. 

As usual, please don’t hesitate to vote and comment. Your feedback will only help my story! 

Also, I tried to keep the following scene as PG-13 as possible! (The "action" is only implied, don’t worry).  

 It was Monday morning, and you know what that means. The rush to get to work begins. Cars and cabs tear across the streets and alleys of the city, women walk to and fro in noisy stilettos on the pavement, and men in slim fit suits flood the sidewalks with briefcases.  

My morning routine was usually simple. Wake up at five thirty, pick up the Wall Street Journal sitting outside my door, get ready, tip Mike the doorman for calling me a livery cab, get off in front of Second Cup, grab a tea latte and a scone, and walk another two blocks to work.   

However, with Nina living in the penthouse with me for the week, things are getting out of hand, especially considering she takes a full hour in the bathroom every morning. I‘m an only child, so this whole roommate thing is pretty new, and in college I was lucky enough to be in the nice dorms that I had all to myself. Then again, I was a prime target for rowdy parties because my dorm was so big. You win some, you lose some. 

Of course when I got back I had to deal with Nina’s interrogation session first, which started with why I was wearing a man’s herringbone shirt instead of proper clothing. And of course, that cause her to assume a bunch of things that didn’t happen. And of course, I denied everything. Standard protocol at this point. I loved Nina for caring about me, but her unnecessary advice became cumbersome after a while.  

I get to the office at about eight thirty in the morning with my scone and my Earl Grey tea latte when Esmeralda practically bombards me with appointments and news. This was standard protocol as well.  

“Alisha you have an appointment with three different clients today and a message from Mr. Verma and a dinner engagement with a director from the Federal Reserve.” 

“Jay? What does he want?”

“ALISHA is that all you picked up??” 

“Frankly, yes.” 

 “Well he wants to give you these flowers, first of all” she said, as she plopped a huge basket of lilac hydrangeas on my desk. “Also he wants to have dinner with you at seven at Byblos on Duncan Street.” 

 “Call him to cancel, I have that dinner with the Fed guy at eight.” 

“If you meant canceling on the Federal Reserve dude, it’s already been done” she said, rolling her eyes and subsequently groaning. 

 “Esmeralda you’re a gem.” 

 I adjusted the basket on my dark mahogany veneer desk and spotted a little cream envelope inside, with a fancy capital letter “A” written on it in gold ink. I opened the envelope, my heart beating ridiculously fast at this point. The note read: Don’t forget to smile today ~J. My head felt light. I held that piece of cardstock, simply staring at it for god knows how long; even Esmeralda was looking at me weirdly through the glass. It was like so many things were being said at once in those five words. After our long chat yesterday it felt like we had reached a new level of understanding with each other. I tucked it away in my Louis Vuitton purse, knowing it would be useful later.  

 It still didn't sink in that I was Jay Verma’s freaking girlfriend. I mean, the kinds of things he did in college, it seemed like he was unable to have a relationship with anybody. He was the person who would do the keg stand twice in one night, or be the one that threw up in a random girl’s dorm or hooked up with three girls at the same party. He was that guy. And now, he's sending some girl he met a week ago flowers and love notes? It was hard to believe.  

 The day went on pretty slow considering I was reeling from Jay’s eloquent gesture the entire workday. The client meetings were insignificant compared to my fabulous dinner date, which was the only thing I was looking forward to. And this time, I decided I would pick him up at his place because gender roles are stupid.  

I walked up to the apartment, all dolled up for our date. I had my Isaac Mizrahi navy cocktail dress on with Manolo Blahnik heels and simple Kate Spade earrings. Nothing too fancy.  

I knocked the door and said (in the sexiest voice possible): “Room service.” 

A shirtless Jay opened the door, again. Only wrapped in a towel, again. Hair all damp and tousled from the shower, again. However, this time his cheeks were covered in foamy white shaving cream and he held a bristly shaving brush covered in the cream as well.  

 “Seriously? You really need to work on your timing.” 

 “Sorry, I was in the middle of getting ready.” 

 “Clearly” I said. As much as I pretended to be disappointed about Jay’s shirtless appearance, I was managing to cope very well with a view of his muscular back and shoulders. 

 Jay sauntered back to the rectangular ceramic sink to finish his shave and I saw him pick up a razor. Not a Gillette razor. A real straight razor. The kind used in barbershops. 

 “That’s a nice razor. Too cool for Gillette?” 

 “Some things are best left the old-fashioned way.” 

 “I guess…” 

 He smirked and came over to me with his white beard, and handed me the razor.  

 “Are you sure? You know I’m not good with sharp things.”  

 He grabbed my waist and turned me around, guiding me to the bed. Jay sat down and I kneeled in front of him. I put the towel on his shoulder and braced myself. I was used to a standard Gillette, but a cutthroat razor like this one? It was giving me anxiety, and apparently Jay could sense it. 

 “Relax” Jay said. “It’s just a blade.” I gave him a bewildered look. 

 I placed my hand on Jay’s crown and turned his head to the side. Then I angled the razor and took a deep breath as I slid it across his right cheek, shaving off a section of his stubble, and then subsequently wiped the razor on the towel. 

 “See? Not so hard is it?” 

 “If you say another word I’m going to kill you with this.” 

 This continued for another half an hour before I got to his throat. This was the tricky part. 

 “Don’t move a muscle” I said. 

 I placed the razor angled up at the bottom of his throat and slowly pulled it up, ending at his chin. Then with a flick, I pulled the razor up, and the job was done. Taking the towel from his shoulder, I held his face in my hands and wiped the residual shaving cream off of his face.  

 “All done” I whispered, still holding his face in my hands with the towel and staring into his chocolaty brown eyes. There was something oddly seductive about this whole shaving situation. We were so close together, my chest nearly touching his, and our faces merely inches apart.  

 “Still want to go out, or…stay in?” he said, starting to unzip my dress from the back. 

 “Let’s get takeout, after this.” 

 “Good plan” Jay whispered, before letting my dress fall on the floor under my feet and throwing me on the bed. 

 Do I really need to explain what happened next?  

Sorry this one was rather short :/ but don't worry, I've already started drafting Part 8, so stay tuned! Also if you figure out which 2012 film I inspired the shaving scene from, feel free to comment on this chapter!