Free Pale Stranger (PALE Series) by Mac Flynn

face fell faster than all my previous metaphors combined. "What? Why?"
    "We can't do this," I told him.
    He wasn't angry, but he was frustrated. "Why not?" he hoarsely whispered.
    "Because we're in a bathroom," I reminded him.
    "We could-"
    I pressed a finger to his lips and shook my head. "You could change the location and we'd still be boss and worker."
    He clasped my hand in his, and his eyes had a playful glint in them. "I could fire you right now and solve that problem."
    I had to admit that was really tempting, but that wouldn't have solved my money problem. "I'd rather you didn't. It would feel like we're cheating."
    Benson sighed and his hard manhood deflated. "All right," he agreed. He reluctantly let me go and I just as reluctantly slid off his lap.
    I felt a wet, oily substance on my hands, and glanced down to see my arms up to my bare elbows were covered in sunscreen. "Oh damn."
    My comment startled him. "What? What's wrong?"
    I held up my glistening hands. "Mind if I use your bath for a few minutes?"
    He raised a lecherous eyebrow and smirked. "Sure, but the price is we take one at the same time." I opened my mouth to scold him, but he held up his hand and nodded. "I know, I know. I'll behave and meet you downstairs with your work."
    "What about the walk?" I asked him.
    He stiffly rose up; his hard-on wasn't quite a soft-on yet. "Perhaps later after I've recovered from your bewitching spell."

CHAPTER 8
     
    I won't bore us both to tears, me literally when I remember those first trying hours, about my on-the-job training. Benson was nice enough to guide me through the first few calls and tell me how to introduce myself as his new secretary, and then I was abandoned to the wolves of Wall Street while he made his own calls. I'll just say that things could have gone horribly worse, and sometimes I thought they had before I managed to stutter out what I wanted and for whom.
    After three hours of work I stumbled out of the living room where Benson had put me so our conversations didn't drown out one another. I suspected he didn't want to see me break down at each call. His sharp ears caught my shuffling feet in the hall, and he found me in the kitchen drowning out my stress with a nice, tall glass of water. I caught him leaning against the doorway with his arms folded across his chest and a big grin on his face. "Tough time?" I nodded; my mouth was full of water. "What do they teach kids in college these days?"
    I gave myself a big gulp of water before I replied. "How to drink and fall asleep in uncomfortable classroom chairs," I quipped.
    "Anything I need to know about?"
    "Yeah, one of the ladies said Mr. Somebody couldn't work with any of the times you gave me, so you needed to call him back at some number." He looked alarmed at my lack of specific information, so I waved my hand toward the living room. "I wrote it down."
    "In your shorthand?" he teased.
    I rolled my eyes. "Yes, but I translated it into English after I was done talking with his secretary," I assured him.
    "And did you get through the pile or still need to earn the large salary I'm paying you?" he asked me.
    "Got through, and I'll have to add on a stress tax," I replied.
    He raised an eyebrow. "Stress tax? Sounds serious."
    "And seriously expensive," I added. "It brings my daily fee up to, oh, about a million dollars."
    Benson smirked. "Is that all?" He took out his wallet and thumbed through the bills. "Did you want to be paid daily or at the end of the week?"
    I drooled at the sight of all those one hundred dollar bills flashing by beneath his thumb. "Whenever's good for you," I whispered.
    He stopped his torturing of me, snapped shut the wallet and destroyed my dreams by stuffing the container back into his pocket. "Then I'll wait until the end of the week. That will ensure you stay here that long."
    I glared at him. "That's a dirty trick."
    He shrugged and crossed his arms over his chest. "All's fair in love and wallet."
    I faked outrage and