A Night With My Ex's Boss

4

"Hey," he looks up and laughs, "why are you dressed like that?"

I stare at him, appalled. Am I going to have to point out that I am seducing him?

I persevere. This must pay off, for I don't have any money right now to introduce objects into the bedroom.

"We haven't been together in a while, Ben." I smile at him pointedly and push my breasts out.

"I know." He gives me a dark stare. "You had that freak double period three weeks ago that lasted for two weeks, remember?"

Ok, so I did tell a little white lie about having my period. But surely all girls do it when they are feeling tired? After the roast, I was so stuffed as well, excuse my crudeness, but you really couldn't have fitted anything else into my body.

"It has finished now." I tug at his shirt and try to rip it off as sexily as possible except his head gets stuck and he has to help me.

What I don't understand is that Ben is an attractive guy; I know that because I see other women looking at him in the street. I know I should fancy him; it's just that I have lost the spark. The feeling of excitement in the pit of your stomach that makes you hold in your farts around them.

I started releasing my farts a few months into dating Ben.

"Ok." He grins, his mood suddenly picking up. He tears off his clothes as quickly as he can; I guess I have sexually starved him these past few months, poor guy.

He scrambles onto the bed, and I climb on top, ready for the rodeo.

He's not ready for me yet, so I take him in my hands.

I lean forward on the bed with my best glamour puss pout and start stroking.

He groans a sigh of approval. Yes, this b***h has still got it.

I can't stop thinking about my credit card bill, though.

I have to pay it tomorrow, I keep forgetting.

Actually, maybe I should pay it immediately after this.

Yes, that's what I'll do. When we finish, I will pay the £200 that I owe Barclay's. I should never have let it get this high.

Those bloody jeans I bought don't even fit me, and I have 30 days to return them, and this must be what, day 26? I'll need to do it tomorrow at lunch, but Mike has called that goddamn meeting about the company takeover at lunchtime tomorrow. Who is buying us? Stevie's right. Maybe I should pay more attention. Why can't they just tell us, why all the secrecy?

"Charlie!" Ben sits up, shouting my name. I snap back to the room.

"Yes?"

"I feel like I'm a cow being milked." He says in a low voice. "You're just a milkmaid hurrying on to the next job."

"Well, that's a fantasy I haven't been in before". I smile suggestively. He's not laughing. I look down.

He's pretty flaccid.

Oops.

He pushes my hand off him and sits up in the bed.

"This isn't working, Charlie," he sighs.

"Don't worry, we'll get it back up again," I coax, rubbing his back.

"Not my d**k," he snaps. "Us. These days you have the s*x drive of a cardboard box." "You've been chatting to Stevie about our s*x life?" I hiss indignantly.

"About our nonexistent s*x life." He sighs as he scrambles for his t-shirt. "Let's just leave it for tonight, your minds clearly elsewhere."

"Ben," I whine in his ear. "I'm sorry. Definitely next time, yeah? I'll even do a motorboat the way you like it...although it's very ticklish."

He nods, pulls the covers up, and turns to face the wall.

At least I can pay my credit card now.

3

Charlie

"Thanks for being my date, Cat." We stare in the mirror, examining our handiwork.

I'm wearing a black top with a killer low back that shows I'm wearing no bra. I matched it with tight black jeans that hugged my ass. I've painted myself with smoky eyes and red lips, and my dark brown hair is in layers down my back.

I look good, and I know it.

It's the most effort I've put in since Ben and I started dating, and he's not even here to see it.

I couldn't ask him after the milkmaid saga. We needed some time to cool off.

"LIke a femme fatale." Stevie gives a slow dirty wolf whistle from behind us. "You polish up real good, Finnegan."

"Thanks," I begrudgingly responded. Stevie wasn't one for compliments, so I'll take it.

"I feel sorry for the poor bugger that'll chat you up tonight, though," he continues, "once he finds out you give terrible hand jobs." There he is.

I whip my head round to glare at him. "I do not give bad hand jobs!"

"And will you stop talking to Ben? You're not even friends! You're supposed to be my friend, not his."

"Stevie!" Cat gasps. "Don't be hard on Charlie. Ben should guide her better rather than go mouthing to you. How will she improve otherwise?"

"Can we stop!" I hissed. "That is not the reason we are having problems." They nod at me, smiling.

"My hand jobs are so good I could be a professional prostitute!" I yell in their faces. How dare they.

I rummage in my bag for my phone. Tristan had texted the address of the place where the party is at. No doubt It'll be one of London's most pretentious bars.

It is Saturday night and my big brother Tristan's 40th birthday. Sometimes I speculated that he was swapped at birth, snatched from his real parents who are out there being politicians, royalty or Nobel Prize winners and given to the Finnegan clan.

That would explain how he became one of London's most prominent and powerful barristers and senior partner at a prestigious firm in the city. By the time he hit my age, he was absolutely loaded. High-profile international cases had elevated him to minor celebrity status and pin-up guy.

He had his own pad in Holland Park, holiday homes in four other countries, and if the rumours were true, a new woman every night of the week. Apparently, representing clients in the International Criminal Court was quite the turn-on.

A fact I didn't need to know.

Tristan turning 40 wasn't the reason I had put so much effort in tonight. Or why my stomach was doing somersaults.

No, that was because of Tristan's best friend.

Danny Walker, financial tech tycoon, self-made multimillionaire, and my arch nemesis.