I laughed aloud. God, he was such a square. I tapped out a message.
BIANCA: That depends…
Kristian was still online, seeing my message instantly. I watched three dots dancing back and forth as he typed.
KRISTIAN: On?
BIANCA: On whether you like what you see in the photo, or not.
This time he didn’t respond immediately, though the blue ticks informed me he’d seen the message. A trickle of doubt seeped into my mind, and I suddenly felt a little clammy. Had this been a mistake? A step too far? Subtle flirting in person was one thing, but to send a blatant photograph like that… I was an idiot. The three dots bounced around and I held my breath.
KRISTIAN: What’s not to like?
Fucking hell. I breathed a sigh of relief, my excitement returning tenfold. Another message came through.
KRISTIAN: Not appropriate for workplace devices though. 07736 809 446 – that’s my personal number.
I grinned and threw down my McLaren issued device and added the contact to my personal iPhone. I opened the camera once more, this time plucking the edge of my bikini top away until it barely covered my nipple. My tan line was stark, and I snapped a photo of it.
BIANCA: You’re right, personal devices are a much smarter idea. Do you think I’ve caught the sun today?
BIANCA: Sent a photo.
Kristian came online and I noticed his profile picture was different. I tapped on it to bring it up to full–size, pleasantly surprised to see it was a candid photograph. He was sitting in some sort of lawn chair at a barbeque–type garden party. He was relaxed and smiling, wearing a simple t–shirt and shorts with abeer in hand. My stomach fluttered. I’d thought him handsome in his work gear but something about seeing him in his casual clothes seemed so much more personal, more intimate. My phone buzzed in my hands, and I turned my attention back to our messages.
KRISTIAN: You’ve definitely caught the sun. How long were you out in it?
I pursed my lips, almost amused by how rubbish he was at this. If I’d messaged any other man a picture like that, their next message would have contained some form of slathering, potentially asking to see more skin or maybe even a picture in return. Kristian? Kristian asks how much sun I’ve had, like he was my dermatologist.
BIANCA: Is that all you have to say? I promise I used sun lotion as prescribed, doctor.
KRISTIAN: Don’t get smart with me. You started this.
BIANCA: I know, but your response was not what I was expecting!
KRISTIAN: Sorry to disappoint. P.S. Nice tits.
At that I laughed aloud. I knew he was just messing with me, but I was flattered all the same. Before I could respond, I saw Kristian typing again.
KRISTIAN: Look, I’m not one for playing games. What’s this all about Bianca?
Straight to the point, I liked it. I wasn’t one for messing around either, as much as I enjoyed a good tease. I paused to consider my response before typing out a reply.
BIANCA: I think you’re hot as hell and I enjoy flirting with you. I know it’s complicated given we work together, but I’m looking for a completely casual arrangement, no strings, no mess. If that’s something you’d be interested in pursuing with me, then know I’m down.
KRISTIAN: It’s not just complicated, it’s downright risky. I’m your boss. I’m also twelve years older than you, if you didn’t already know that.
I did know that. It had been one of the first things I’d seen when I’d Googled him. It didn’t bother me in the slightest, but I could understand why Kristian was apprehensive. It didn’t look great to the outside eye, given he was in a position of power over me. The wrong assumptions could easily be drawn, and it would damage both of our careers. I sighed.
BIANCA: Is that a no then?
Kristian’s reply was instantaneous.
KRISTIAN: I didn’t say that.
BIANCA: Then what are you saying?
KRISTIAN: I’m saying let’s get this race weekend out of the way and think about it.
