Page 7 of Grace
My heartbeat steadies and so does my breathing. The nerves slowly fade, and I grab a Post-It and address the memory issue.
I go in to clear the browser history, and I can tell he’s never done it. Shaking my head, I clear it, making sure that he has his sign-in information saved, then I close the browser, make sure everything he’s working on is saved, and restart the computer.
He left his sign-in information, so I get him back in place, reopen the documents he’s been working on, open the browser, and restore all the tabs.
And that’s when I see it.
I don’t know how I missed it the first time around.
My eyes flick to the door and the few windows from his private office to the rest of the floor before I check the volume on the computer. I can’t resist the temptation to click the tab I see open on his browser, even though I shouldn’t.
There’s no reason for me to click it. It’s not professional and it doesn’t have anything to do with his computer troubles, but I hover the mouse over the partial phrasepetite redh…
My finger lifts to click, but I pause. “It’s just to make sure it’s not a site that will give him viruses. That’s all. It’s just to make sure his computer is healthy. It’s just… necessary.”
With that, I click on the tab. Petite. Redhead. Porn. Oh, my God, it’s all porn.
Of course, the guys with these girls are much larger than the girls. In half of the image clips, the guys have the girls fully picked up. They’re naked or barely clothed. Sometimes, the girl is flipped upside down and they’re doing oral to each other at the same time. In others, it’s sex. In all of them, the dicks on these guys look too big to fit.
My nipples harden against my shirt and my thighs squeeze together.
“Oh, my God,” I breathe as heat swirls in my stomach.
My lips dry as I squirm on his chair. My body pulses, and I can’t believe I’m feeling something I never felt with my ex. How can this be what I’m into?
Shaking my head, erasing the bad thoughts, I quickly close the tab, stand up, and almost run out of his office.
No one else in the office is a redhead. But that doesn’t mean… why is my mind taking me there? That’s ridiculous. He’s my ex’sdad. I shouldn’t even think about him in any other way. Even if we didn’t meet formally like Sebastian met my family, that doesn’t mean that Mr. Brooks doesn’t know I dated his son.
Maybe it’s just… it’s just a fetish or something. Or maybe other porn got boring. But why does it get to me? How does it make something stir deep inside me? Why can’t I scrub the image from my mind, and why do I feel hot all over, wanting to go back into his office, restore the window, and see what’s so appealing about petite redheads?
four
“Grace, five minutes,” Mr. Brooks says, and I glance at Stacy’s seat again. Another day that it’s empty. I almost suck my bottom lip, but I actually put on lipstick today, a warm brown-pinkish color that Ashley said would suit me.
I nod, quickly adding some notes on my pad.
His eyes sharpen on me. “Words, Grace.”
“Yes, s—”
He holds up his hands, my words break off, and he shakes his head. “Please, Grace, no ‘sir’.”
I blink. “I won’t again,” I say as I wonder why he doesn’t want me to call him that.
Mr. Brooks has me sit in on a meeting with him, but I still can’t scrub my ‘research’ out of my mind. I watched porn last night, trying to figure out what the excitement of size differences is and why it’s affecting me.
It was exciting to see how easily the men could take control. How determined they were to please their partner and earn an orgasm. The praise had washed over me, made me breathless and hot all over.
“Are you warm?”
I glance up at Mr. Brooks and wonder if I said it out loud. He looks over my face with interest and concern. “You’re flushed, Grace. I can adjust the temperature.”
“No, you don’t have to do that.” I pause as his brow lifts and my blush intensifies. “Okay, maybe a little.”
He grins at me as he takes care of the temperature, then refocuses the meeting. I realize then that everyone stopped because he spoke to me. The thought wiggles deeper in my mind. I shake my head and focus on taking notes. I write down a few questions when I notice some things about the program being pitched are overlooked or glossed over.
By the time we’re done, I feel fine. My mind is where it’s supposed to be, and I’m sure just about everyone in the room has forgotten me. I follow Mr. Brooks to his office, and he puts out his hand.
