Perfect Boss

By: Penny Wylder

“You all right?” he asks with a slight smile in the corner of his mouth, seemingly entertained by my lack of grace.

“Um …” I immediately forget what he said. I’m too busy staring at his lips. They look so soft and velvety. I wonder how amazing it would be to kiss a man with lips like those. My last boyfriend had lips like a shedding snake, always dry, always peeling, always kind of gross.

Marcus waits for an answer to the question he asked that I don’t remember. I don’t know what to say, so I say what I feel is a universal answer to many different questions.


He lets out a muffled laugh and says, “I think you might’ve hit your head.”

“No, I’m fine, I’m just … it’s not a good day.” I start to ramble after that. I always ramble when I’m nervous. I say stupid things like, “My house burned down last night and I didn’t have enough money to get a motel so I slept in my car, and I don’t make enough at my shit job to earn a living wage …” As I’m rambling, I keep glancing over at the door to the employee room. If I don’t clock in soon, I’m definitely going to get fired. I see the clock above the door and I’m a half hour late as it is. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to—” I start to say when I hear my name in the tinny, Lollipop Guild voice of my elfin boss. I cringe at the sound of it.

“You’re late, Ruby, I’m writing you up for this one,” he says, then stammers when he sees Marcus. “Mr. Steere, I didn’t see you there …”

Marcus raises his eyebrows and looks at me. “This is your shit job?” he says. It’s hard to tell what he’s thinking. He looks and sounds almost as if he were amused, but how could he be when I just called the job at his company shit? He should be furious. My boss sure is. He looks like he’s about to blow cartoon smoke out of his ears any minute now.

“You called your job here, shit?” my boss says, rising on his toes as if trying to appear imposing, but his head barely reaches my shoulders. Marcus could sit on the top of his head like a bar stool if he wanted to. Their size difference is almost comical, like they’re different breeds: pug vs. mastiff.

“No, I didn’t mean …” I mutter.


I sigh. I did call my job shit. I hadn’t meant to, but the words just sort of slipped out and now they are out in the air and there’s no taking them back.

I’m about to turn in defeat and walk back out to my car when Marcus says, “In my office, Ruby.”

Hearing my name in his voice is the strangest thing. He says it as if he’s familiar with it. As if he’s said it a million times.

“Yes, sir,” I say.

Leonard gives me a smug look and wanders off. I should tell him to go fuck himself since I’m about to be fired anyway. Might as well go out with a bang. But for some reason, even though we’ve only just met and he’s about to kick me to the curb, I don’t want to disappoint Marcus Steere.

I follow him through corridors, up an elevator to the top floor where there’s a massive office suite overlooking the entire city. It’s the kind of office you might see in a magazine. Everything is sleek and metal and different shades of cream leather. It smells heavenly, like the cologne aisle in the store, but not overbearing. There’s a huge salt-water fish tank in the middle of the room with brightly colored fish and elaborate coral formations. No bubbling pots of gold or sunken ships in this masterpiece. It’s so elegant I’m afraid to get near it even though I desperately want to get a closer look.

There are no fingerprint smudges or coffee rings on coffee tables or anything else. The room looks like someone could operate in here. It’s pristine. Just my presence in this place feels as though it’s been tainted. But not Marcus. He looks right in his element, tailor made, as if he were cut from the same expensive cloth. An art piece to be put on display like the fish in their tank.

“Please sit,” he says, motioning to the seat on the opposite side of his desk. I sit when he does.

God, he’s handsome. It makes it difficult to focus. I should be panicking about my job, but instead my mind starts to wander and I picture myself crawling under his big desk and unbuttoning his pants with my teeth. He tells me we shouldn’t, and what if we get caught, but I keep pulling off his clothes piece by piece until he’s naked. Then I do a sexy Cat-Woman crawl up his body and sit on his lap, impaling myself of his stiff cock. The room fills with the smell of sex and the wet sounds of our bodies slapping together. I give him the best fuck of his life and then he begs me for more.

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