I know my type. I get it. Tall. Leadership position. In control. I get it.
But there is something about Matt. Something in his manner. Something in the way he bosses us all around that gets me off.
We’ve never done anything, of course. I like my job and greatly want to keep it. The idea of me fucking the boss probably wouldn’t sit right with any of my fellow co-workers.
So, instead, I greet Matt as I always do.
“Thank you, Matt.”
He never replies to my habitual farewell. Never lingers until everyone is gone. Never tries to talk to me after the gig is over. Never makes a move.
Sometimes, in the middle of setting everything up, I look over and see him. He’ll be shooting the shit with the client. Keeping tabs on everyone working. We never make eye contact. I don’t look at him that often. But I usually have a sense of where he is. The hunger in my body often senses him.
Today was not a special day, nor a special gig. It was an easy load out. An easy going client. Everyone was happy.
I especially was pleased with the quickness of our work. I had a party to get to after the gig. People I was happy to see. Chill time to be had. I packed a bag just to change my clothes. No matter the rush, I did not want to show up in my dirty work outfit for what was sure to be a fun night.
When Matt dismissed us, and I said my normal thank you, I made my way to the restroom. Changed my clothes. Played with my hair. Sprayed my favorite scent on my skin. Transitioned from worker to party girl.
As I slung my garment bag over my shoulder, I grinned to myself. This was a first for me, looking this cute after a gig. I wondered what my coworkers would’ve thought of the switch.
Stepping outside of the restroom, I lazily walked towards the exit.
Passing the room I’d just worked in, I happened to glance inside. And I saw him. Matt, with his bag slung over his shoulder. A small smirk on his face as he walked towards me.
And then he saw me. His smirk got bigger. I waited the few breaths for him to join me.
“Hi Whit. Off to have fun.”
We walked out of the building together towards our cars.
Matt had never seen me like this. I knew it would leave an impression. But I had one more gem to impart.
“I’m here,” he said as we came upon his Jeep. “Have fun tonight.”
“I plan to, Matt. But, before I go.”
I reached into my bag, felt around for a moment, and then found it. I pulled out the cigar and handed it to him.
“For you, Matt.”
He took the stick, glided it under his nose, and closed his eyes.
“Thanks again, Matt.”
I turned and walked away before he could respond, but I could feel his eyes on me. Tracing the lines of my body from toe to tip. I hoped he liked the view, and trusted it would be his preferred thought as he enjoyed the tobacco some day soon.
I stopped. Turned. Smiled.
He pulled out a knife from his pocket. Flicked it open with a click. Wetted the end of the cigar. Notched the tobacco. Put away his knife. Lit my gift.
“Every time you say my name, it sounds like sex.”
“Really, Matt.” He wasn’t the only one smiling.
“When we fuck, will you scream or whisper my name?”
“What you want, Matt.”
His smoke lingered around his face as his grin grew.
“Come here.” He beckoned me over, the ember of his cigar’s cherry a beacon for my steps.
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