Executive Affair (18 page)

‘Come to my room. I'll make you a coffee … It'll help you stay on your feet.'

He kept his arm around her shoulders as he guided her to the lobby.

He kissed her again in the lift and she knew that he wasn't serious about the coffee.

The drapes were open in his room, creating a twilight effect. Her hand was secure in his as they walked towards the bed. He sat down beside her, smoothing her hair back from her face, showering her with kisses. His mouth slowed on hers, his
kiss deepening, his hands chaste against her face and hair. She pulled her top over her head and went to take off her bra but he stopped her.

‘Leave it on. You're so sexy in it.'

She leaned back so she was lying flat and he lay on top of her, his weight pressing her into the mattress. He was gentle and reverent everywhere he touched. One of his hands slid inside the lace of her bra, stroking her pointed nipple. He pulled the material to one side so his tongue could follow where his hand had been. She felt his other hand on her panties, massaging the satin against her before slipping inside. His fingers were cool against her wetness.

Seconds, minutes, hours later, he finally moved inside her. In the intensity of the moment, she cried out his name. When he held her in his arms afterwards, it crossed her mind that she would never have guessed the dynamic and demanding Robert she knew at work would be such a gentle lover.

‘Come on, lazy bones! Rise and shine!'

Claire woke sluggishly. Robert was tickling her nose with a feather from the pillowcase. His torso was bare and muscled. The sheet was draped across his waist but it was obvious he was naked beneath.

What have I done? Oh my God, what have I done?

‘I know what you're thinking.' He kissed her nose. ‘Just look at it like this. You may think I'm going to fire you now that I've had my wicked way with you, but I reckon you could have me up for sexual harassment, so we're even.' He grinned.

‘Robert … I don't believe I … please don't think … Look, I'll leave right now and we can both forget it ever happened.'

She pulled herself up in the bed but he blocked her exit by lying on top of her.

‘Sorry, I'm not letting you move until you hear me out. I don't want to forget last night. In fact, I feel very honoured to have shared something so special with you.'

‘This isn't right. You're my boss. What happens when …' She struggled for the right words.

‘When what?' he asked, amused.

‘Look, Robert, you know what happened with Michael …'

‘Yes, I know that he was stupid to let you go. And I know that this isn't the same.'

‘It's worse, you're my boss.'

‘Claire, Claire, why are you getting so worked up?' He gazed into the navy-blue eyes that were enormous in her white face.

‘I know first hand how awkward it is when it finishes.'

‘Who says it will finish? Please, let's give it a go and see what happens. You make me feel different … I know there's something here … Don't ignore it just because I'm your boss. I shouldn't need to say this but your job will not be threatened if it doesn't work out.' His tone was serious. His eyes were genuine. He was naked beneath the sheet. He was hard to resist.

‘I've never just hopped into bed with someone like this. It doesn't seem like the right way to start a relationship.'

‘I wish I could say I was sorry for taking advantage of you.'

He kissed her deeply, his tongue exploring her mouth, and all her doubts and inhibitions evaporated, as if they'd never been there at all.

‘When is your flight back to Sydney?' Robert said. She was curled up against him and his beard moved against the back of her neck as he spoke.

‘Today. At six,' she answered reluctantly. She didn't want to think about going home.

‘That's a pity. I was hoping it would be tomorrow. Still, if we ever get out of bed, we do have a few hours to go somewhere nice.'

‘Where do you recommend?' She turned around in his arms.

‘Let me see … have you seen the markets?'

‘No – I didn't have much time for sightseeing, remember?'

‘Okay. I'm suggesting that we go to Stanley markets. They're interesting – a real Hong Kong experience.'

‘You've convinced me – do we get a tram there?'

‘I can do better than that. I have a rental car.'

She dragged herself out of bed for a long shower, grinning happily to herself as the water tingled her skin. She came out, modestly wrapped in a soft bath sheet, and picked up her clothes from the floor.

He came with her to her room.

‘Can I ask you something?' she said as she opened the door and caught sight of the phone.

‘You can ask me anything.'

‘Did you try to call me here on Saturday night when I arrived?'

‘Yes … guilty as charged … I wanted to make sure you got here okay but thought that sounded silly so I didn't leave a message.'

She sat on the bed and he sat beside her.

‘I have another question. When you suggested to Tony that I might be available to help on the tender, did you have an ulterior motive?' She searched his face for reassurance.

‘No.' He looked and sounded sincere. ‘Believe me, I didn't
hold out any hope that this would happen. It has been a very pleasant surprise. In fact, I didn't even know if you liked me – you often seemed quite aloof with me.'

‘Okay. End of interrogation,' she smiled.

‘Now I want to ask you something. Were you being deliberately aloof?'

‘Yes. I thought you were a womaniser – I was trying not to fall for your charms.'

He laughed and kissed her on the lips.

She changed into a white linen dress while he lay across the bed, watching her with interest. After she quickly packed her clothes and toiletries, he carried her suitcase down to the lobby. It took only a few minutes to check out.

‘I don't believe it's almost midday – how long does it take to get there?' She squinted at her watch as they walked outside and fumbled in her bag to find the sunglasses that she hadn't needed all week.

‘About forty-five minutes. It's a really nice drive though,' he answered, taking her hand.

His rental car was a Porsche. She tried not to look impressed when the valet parking attendant pulled up smoothly to where they stood waiting. Robert zipped through the crazy traffic with a relaxed confidence. He knew his way around Hong Kong. He was comfortable here, just like he was in Sydney and undoubtedly every other big city in the world.

He held her hand tightly as they fought their way through the busy market crowds. The sun was hot and the dense crowd added to the unbearable humidity. The sun was searing her bare head and Robert haggled with a trader for a large straw hat. He sat it on her head and tucked her hair behind her ears.

‘There … you look really cute in it …'

As they lazily made their way through the stalls, she touched the colourful goods but was hopelessly indecisive about what to buy.

‘Come on, Claire. That top is ten dollars and the belt is only fifteen. Break the bank, buy them both! You're causing a traffic jam,' he teased her as he shielded her from the surging shoppers.

‘Oh, I forgot to convert! See what happens when I leave the office … I become an airhead,' she laughed, giving the stall owner the cash.

‘Don't worry, I have a thing for Irish airheads.' He kissed her briefly. ‘Come on. We'd better go and have lunch. It's getting late.'

There was a restaurant at the top of the hill, looking down over the still bay and swarming crowds. Robert ordered a bottle of champagne.

‘I'm not sure I can face alcohol after last night.' Claire eyed the bottle dubiously.

‘Have a little sip, it's very good.' He filled her glass and held it to her lips to try.

He was right. It was delicious and refreshing.

‘Let's toast … to us!' They raised their glasses and he reached for her hand across the table.

Is there an ‘us'? I guess I'll find out back in Sydney
, she thought.

‘Did you enjoy the markets?' He let go of her hand and sat back in his seat.

‘Yes, thanks for taking me.'

‘It was a pleasure.'

Down on the bay the waves were flat as they crept unevenly into the shore.

‘When do you get back to Sydney?' she asked.

‘Same flight as yours next Saturday.'

Are you going to call me?

She looked away from him, afraid he would see the question in her eyes. The hot breeze caressed her face and shoulders as she memorised the beautiful view. As she stared at the bay, she could feel his eyes staring at her.

They didn't talk in the car on the way to the airport, both preoccupied with their private thoughts.

‘I hope you don't mind if I drop you outside – it can be quite hard to find a park here,' he said as he pulled up at the Qantas departure lounge.

‘No, this is fine … thanks for the lift.' She got out of the car.

Robert took her suitcase from the boot. The queue of vehicles waiting for his car space made their farewell rushed.

‘Bye, Claire. See you next week.' He kissed her on the cheek rather formally.

‘Bye.' She felt absurdly clumsy and emotional. She gave him a little wave as he sped away from her.

Julia waited for the cab, her eyes glancing up and down to the wall clock, knowing that she was going to be late yet again. She'd woken feeling sick and had found it hard to get up. She'd spent too long in the shower, too long sipping her coffee, and too long waiting in the taxi company's call queue.

A horn sounded outside and she grabbed her handbag, pulling the door shut behind her. Traffic was at its peak and the ride into the city was jerky, not doing her stomach any good. But at least the driver wasn't one of the chatty ones.

‘Martin has been looking for you,' warned the receptionist when she got in, ‘and he's not in a good mood.'

Julia cursed under her breath. Martin Hayes was the managing partner and she disliked him intensely. She quickly left her jacket and bag at her desk and went to knock on his door.

‘I'm very sorry, Mr Hayes,' she said, giving him an apologetic smile. ‘I had an accident in my car over the weekend and I'm
relying on cabs until it's back on the road. Unfortunately, the one I booked this morning didn't turn up.'

Martin regarded her sceptically. He was a religious man with a strict lifestyle and an intolerance for those who drank, smoked or engaged in any other kind of ‘bad' habits. He was no fool: if Julia's car was off the road, it was probably because she'd lost her licence and not due to any accident. Her late starts, long lunches and growing absenteeism had not escaped his notice. Even though they were short of staff and it wasn't a good time to lose a senior legal secretary, certain standards had to be maintained.

‘Julia, I need you to work with me closely this week. I need to be able to rely on your punctuality,' he said coldly. ‘Now, you may want to get your notebook so we can begin.'

Julia returned a short while later with her pen and pad. Martin began to snap dictation at an impossible speed and she did her best to keep up. The room was stifling. She could smell his body odour and it turned her stomach. They didn't break for lunch – he asked her to order in sandwiches. She felt he was scrutinising her every movement and she tried to maintain a professional front. But by the end of the day she was drained, jumpy and flushed from the lack of air. At five o'clock, when he showed no sign of winding down, she pointedly looked at her watch and invented some commitment for that evening.

Most days, at lunchtime, she went alone to one of the bars in the immediate vicinity of the office. She'd missed that today and now she was consumed with craving, it oozed from her pores and crawled across her skin. It propelled her to a nearby liquor store where she bought as many bottles of vodka as she could carry. It urged her to glug from one in the back of the taxi on the way home.

The house was dark and lonely. She sat on the sofa with the vodka, drinking it as easily as water, waiting until the craving was satiated enough to retreat back inside her.

The next morning Martin resumed his dictation with the same relentlessness. Julia's hands were shaking and she had a thickness in her head. She interrupted him after ten minutes.

‘I think that using the dictaphone would be best for us both, especially with this volume of work.'

He stared at her with his watery, pale blue eyes. ‘You may find it old-fashioned, Julia, but this is how I do things.'

He continued with the onslaught of words, grating and lifeless, a lot of which she missed, until lunchtime, when he surprised her by saying she could take a two-hour break.

Julia couldn't get out of there quick enough. Lunchtime in downtown San Jose was bustling with tourists, business travellers and middle-class locals. She went to Manjos and sat at the bar alone, oblivious to the curious glances of the other patrons who were happy to wait for table service. She ordered shots of vodka, nine or ten of them, just enough to steady her hands and lighten the dullness in her head.

She chewed gum on her way back to the office and sprayed herself with perfume so he wouldn't smell anything.

They had been working for fifteen minutes when Martin stopped mid-sentence and looked up, his horn-rimmed glasses perched on his large ugly nose.

‘Julia, have you been drinking?'

‘Absolutely not, Mr Hayes.' She swallowed a bad taste. ‘Why do you ask?'

‘Because I can smell alcohol and I know it is not from me. Are you aware of the no-alcohol policy of this firm during
work hours?' His tone had a righteous veneer to it.

‘Perfectly aware, Mr Hayes. It must be my perfume you're smelling. Robert never did like it either,' she said smiling, trying to joke but knowing it was futile with the humourless bastard.

‘Don't be ridiculous! I'm not a fool. I must request that you go to the company nurse so she can verify your statement,' he demanded, his voice getting louder and more intimidating.

‘And if I refuse?' She was defiant despite her panic.

‘Do I take it that you are refusing?'

‘Yes.' She rose unsteadily from her seat. ‘I won't let you treat me in such an appalling manner. I'm resigning.'

She was trembling from head to toe as she walked out of his office, down the hallway and through the desks to her own, where she picked up her bag and put it on her shoulder. Imagining everyone's eyes on her, though they couldn't possibly know what had happened in Martin's office, she continued on to the lifts. She made it safely outside and stood for a moment taking shallow breaths, trying to hold back tears.

Damn. Damn it.

She knew Martin had been lying when he said she smelled of alcohol. With the precautions she had taken, that was impossible. On reflection, she was also confused about why he had chosen her for the assignment instead of his usual secretary. Had he set her up?

Her husband was on the other side of the world, she had no car and now no job. She was exposed, dangerously so.

The journey home was a blur. She must have hailed a taxi. She drew the curtains, unable to bear the sunlight, and even though she didn't want to, she drank the rest of yesterday's bottles of vodka.

‘Julia, are we wasting time and money?'

Julia was startled by Linda's confrontational opening to their session.

‘What do you mean?'

Linda alternated her sessions between the informal sofa and the rigidity of her desk.

This week they were at the desk, facing each other warily.

‘You know well what I mean – you're not taking this counselling seriously.' Linda's stare was fierce.

‘That's not fair – of course I'm taking it seriously,' Julia replied. ‘I thought your role is to support me, not give me a hard time.'

‘As I've said previously, I can't help you until such time as you're honest with me. If it wasn't for Cherie keeping me in the loop, I wouldn't know what's happening in your life.'

‘Damn Cherie for poking her nose in!' Julia exploded.

Linda chose not to analyse her outburst. ‘First you got arrested, now I hear you've lost your job – both related to your drinking.'

‘It was just bad luck. I'm having a run of bad luck,' Julia snapped, crossing her arms in anger.

‘Why can't we talk about these things calmly?' Linda was shaking her head in defeat. Julia had clearly no intention of responding so Linda attempted to get to her through an alternative line of attack. ‘How is Robert this week?'

‘He's good.' Julia's reply was short but more amenable.

‘Have you sorted out when you're going to Sydney?'

‘Yes, I'm going at the end of the month. He doesn't know. I'm going to surprise him.' Julia's smile was confident.

‘Is that a good idea?' Linda queried. ‘Have you thought of how he's likely to react to a surprise?'

‘He'll be happy once he gets over the shock. I have no choice but to be dramatic – it's the only way I can distract him from his wretched job.'

‘Julia's going to Sydney,' Cherie told Wayne when he came home from work.

‘What? To Robert?' Wayne scowled as he rested his briefcase on the floor of the kitchen. He always put it there and Cherie always tidied it away later.

‘Who else would she be going to see but Robert?' Cherie asked with a smile, giving him a peck on the cheek.

‘Well, that's a bolt out of the blue. Robert hasn't mentioned a word about it – I was only talking to him yesterday.'

Cherie went back to the sink where she had a good view of the kids as they played in the garden. They were unusually quiet, absorbed with their bright plastic building blocks.

‘That's because Rob doesn't know about it … Julia's planning on surprising him,' Cherie explained.

‘Let's hope the surprise doesn't extend to catching him with his pants down with some girl he's picked up.'

Cherie's face reddened. ‘Don't be so crass!'

‘I'm not being crass. I'm being realistic!'

‘Don't you dare tell him that Julia is going.' She dropped her hand to her side when she realised she was pointing her finger at him.

‘I wouldn't dream of it. It will be very entertaining, whatever transpires from this mad dash she's making to the other side of the world.'

‘Goddamn it, do you have to be so sarcastic?'

There was a yell from the garden. The solitary yell was predictably followed by a piercing scream. They both paused
at the interruption to their argument.

‘Okay, I'll go,' Wayne said and went to referee the dispute that was happening outside.