5 Days a Week: Tuesday (contemporary office romance) (3 page)

She sent him one last message, let him know she was on her way to the office to give him the news, then she left for work.


Amber Matthews


Phillips came back. She wished he’d never gone away.


He was supposed to be away for a few days, tending to an important client and a rough schedule but he said the client had cancelled. Amber knew he was lying because he wasn’t very good at it and she had gotten to know him and his little quirks very well; he didn’t look her in the eye and quickly changed the subject after he told her, two noticeable tells.


She knew he had cancelled the appointment, risking his business and his livelihood for her, but she didn’t mind. It was selfish of her, but she needed to see him, couldn’t bear being away from him.


They had a special day planned. At first he took her out for a meal, they didn’t usually go out together for fear of being seen, but she didn’t hesitate when he asked her. He left his car at home, took a taxi to her house so he could have a few drinks at lunch. When they came back they couldn’t keep their hands off of each other, both of them had had a few glasses of wine.


They kissed and cuddled, fondling each other, before advancing onto the bathroom, into the hot tub. They had sex under the water, in a midst of steam and under a layer of bubbles. They stayed there after that, holding each other close, feeling the heat of their bodies as the water bubbled around them.


“What time’s he due back?” Phillips asked.


She hated it when he mentioned Ian, hated being reminded that it was him she was spending her life with and not the gorgeous doctor by her side. “Not for a good while,” she said. “We have all day.”


“We’re just going to stay here?”


She stood up, smiled at him. “Hold on.” She climbed out of the tub, felt his eyes on her naked, dripping body; watching the way the steam rose from her tanned flesh; the way the water dropped from her perfect breasts and the cleft of her backside. He felt his erection returning as he watched her leave the room, even though she wasn’t looking at him she knew his reaction and intended to please him again when she returned.


She went to the kitchen, filled a bucket with some ice and plonked a bottle of champagne inside. She took the bucket and two champagne flutes to the bathroom, putting them down by the side of the bath. “
,” she said with a grin, “we can stay here.”


She slowly climbed back into the tub one leg at a time, straddling him as she slipped back into the hot water. She pushed her right leg in until she felt the heat of his thigh on her toes; lifted her left leg beside his other thigh and then slowly lowered herself until she felt his cock slip inside her. He grinned at her, snapped at her lips like a hungry alligator.


She wrapped her arms around his neck, thrust his face into her chest, shifted her hips until she felt him deeper, deeper and then lifted her head back to the steaming ceiling, feeling the breath of the water on her flesh, the heat of his cock inside her. She was in heaven and even the thought of her husband couldn’t take that away from her.




His eyes lit up when he saw Shelly at her desk. He was on the phone trying to sell to someone who didn’t want to buy, and he hadn’t seen her enter. When his eyes passed across her desk in hope -- for the dozenth time that day -- he nearly jumped for joy when he saw her sitting there.


“Hello? Hello?”


The buzzing in his ear reminded him he was still on the phone. “Sorry sir,” he said, his tone changing from the melancholic meanderings of a forlorn lover to the delighted chatter of a man whose worst fears had been rebuffed; Shelly hadn’t left the office, or her job, for good.


He caught her eye a few times. At one point she gave him a wide smile that melted his heart, he couldn’t hide the obvious look of delight that edged its ways across his face when she grinned at him. She was on the phone, making a play of strangling herself with the cord. He laughed, she winked at him and continued her conversation, he felt giddy with excitement.


He met her at the water cooler before lunch, bolting out of his seat -- rushing to finish a call -- when he saw her getting up to go for a drink.


“Hey,” she beamed at him when he walked over.


“Hey Shelly, how are you?” he ask as casually as he could, taking a Styrofoam cup and bending down to fill it.


“I’m good,” she said with a nod. “Tired, but good.”


“Not sleep much?


“Too much actually,” she said. “That’s why I was late. I slept in.”


“Oh,” he straightened up. “You were late, what time did you get here?” he immediately regretted asking. He wanted to sound disinterested, didn’t want her to know he had spent his day pining over her, but he didn’t want to sound


“Not so long ago,” she said meekly, her eyes wandering over his shoulder and back again. She looked like she had something on her mind, he realized his comment had hurt her. She was new after all, he was the only person she had really spoken to, other than Sissy. She probably felt alone and he had just essentially told her that even he hadn’t been paying enough attention to her to know whether she was at the office or not.


“Well, better get back to work,” she said, drinking the last of her water and scrunching the cup in her hand.


He nodded, smiled meekly and watched her go, mumbling distasteful comments under his breath, hating himself.


Ian Matthews


He was on his way to see his wife, calculating what he was going to say in his head, when he saw Sissy. She was coming out of a pharmacy, a small bag in her hand, a complex and thoughtful expression on her face.


He managed to suppress his desire to slam his foot on the brakes and stop in the middle of the street. He parked as close to the road as he could, slammed his hand on the horn when he saw her shifting into her car through the rearview mirror. She paused and looked up, confused; that was all he needed to make his move. He bolted out of the car, waved maniacally at her. She looked perplexed at first but eventually she forced a smile and waved back, a little unsurely.


She moved towards him when he approached, moving to hug him, then she saw the anger on his face and took a step backwards.


“What the fuck are you playing at?” he barked.


She took another step back, noting that he was edging closer. “What do you mean?” she asked, trying to apply a smile to her bemused face.


“I know what you’re up to.”


She looked down at the bag in her hand, then back at him, an expression of haunting realization creased her features. “You do?”


He nodded. “You make me sick.”


“It’s not my fault,” she told him.


He stamped his feet, threw his arms out exasperatedly. A few pedestrians stopped to look, concerned at the level of noise, but they continued on, perhaps a little slower than usual in case they missed any of the drama.


“Of course it’s your fucking fault!” he snapped. “Who’s else is it?”


She opened her mouth to reply, feeling feeble under his menacing yelling, but he stopped her short with another bombardment. “And don’t say
, don’t try to drag
into this.”


She shook her head slowly, tried to see some semblance of sense behind his flaring, evil eyes. She saw none.


“But, it’s yours as much as mine.”


She saw red, then she saw a blur and before she knew it she was on her knees. He had hit her, slapped her across the face. The shock had sent her to the ground more than the impact, but it still hurt. She held a hand to her face, feeling the heat of his slap as he towered over her.


“You deserved that!” he bellowed, looking like he was going to spit at her.


He looked around as if to see who had witnessed it, then he thrust a menacing finger at her. “Just keep your mouth shut. You and me are finished.”


He turned on his heel and climbed back in his car, leaving Sissy on her knees.




She really liked Mark. He was cute and he had an amazing smile. He seemed to be interested in her, but she wasn’t sure if that was just because she was paying a lot of attention to him. She couldn’t tell if he was looking at her and smiling at her a lot because he liked her, or because
was often looking at or smiling at him.


It comforted her to see him in the office, a friendly face in a sea of the unfamiliar. She understood that it was odd that she would consider him a friendly face, she had only known him for a day after all, but he was so warm and approachable. It was equally pleasing to see that Sissy hadn’t shown up for work and the boss wasn’t making his appearance known either. Shelly got on with her work without anyone mentioning the fact that she was late, even Simone at the front desk hadn’t battered an eyelid -- she seemed too busy with her own thoughts, smiling away to herself like some mad woman.


Shelly made a point of mentioning her lateness to Mark, as if she felt she needed to get it off of her chest. She had worked there for two days and for two days she had been late, it wasn’t acceptable, but what was even less acceptable was that no one had mentioned it.


When she was talking to Mark, she saw Matthews hanging around outside his office. Her cheery demeanor vanished, she couldn’t hide the veneer of trepidation that crossed over her features, but she doubted that Mark noticed anything.


She tried to pay attention to Mark as she watched Matthews out of the corner of her eye. He seemed agitated, annoyed, ready to explode. She wondered if he already knew about the affair, wondered if that was why he was angry and why Sissy hadn’t shown up for work.


If that was the case then she needed to tell him what she knew. If he already knew then it was just a matter of time before someone let it slip that Shelly knew, and he wouldn’t be too happy that she had kept it from him. He was her boss after all. She had been late for her first two days and for whatever reason, ignorance or apathy, he had let it slide; she had a feeling he wouldn’t let this slide.





She remained on the pavement after he hit her, after she watched him leave. She half expected him to apologize, to blame a moment of madness and pick her up, hold her tightly and beg for forgiveness. She also expected that, after he had gone, he would come back and carry her away in a fit of apologetic tears. But he didn’t apologize and he didn’t come back.


She was too stunned to cry at first, but when the tears came she couldn’t stop. A few people passed her but no one stopped to console her. Eventually a man from behind the counter in the pharmacy came outside, put a consoling arm around her. She looked at him, saw the pity in his eyes as he asked what was wrong.


Moments earlier she had been hiding her angst behind a veil of giddy excitement, taking pride in his reaction -- a stranger’s reaction -- as she announced her pregnancy and asked what vitamins she should take for the baby. He wished her well, gave her what he thought was best, and now, after a run in with the father of the baby, she was sprawled on the pavement with the bottle of pregnancy vitamins lying by her side.


“I’ve called the police,” he told her. “They’ll be here soon. “I didn’t see what happened. Did someone hit you?”


She shook her head, struggled to her feet. Not just someone, she thought. The father of her unborn baby, the love of her life.


“Thank you,” she said through the sobs. “But I think I should just go.”


He left a trailing arm on her shoulder as she walked away.


“Are you sure?” he asked.


She nodded, putting a sleeve to her face to hide the sobs.


“What about these?”


She turned around, saw that he had picked up the bottle of vitamins and was holding them out.

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