Caught by the Boss

12

LEILA

Grace is upset. As soon as I see her approaching the park bench I'm sitting on, I can see her frown creasing her face.

Did the date not go so well?

She holds two coffees, handing me one as she plops beside me.

"Thanks," I say, accepting it and drifting my eyes to the teenagers that are skateboarding. It feels too invasive to stare at her frown, because I know how badly she wanted the date to succeed.

"Are you alright?"

She sighs. "Yes. Just disappointed."

I know he didn't stand her up. She texted me vague details last night, so I know the date happened.

"Disappointed about what?"

"Everything, Leila. I showed up and we had this delicious dinner, but he seemed... disappointed with every answer I gave. Like he was expecting to hear something else. His expression was controlled—you know how he is, but his voice lost excitement with every answer I gave. He was cold by the end of the night."

I don't understand. Why would he be expecting other answers if they're just getting to know each other?

"Well, what were you telling him? I'm sure you didn't say anything crazy like enjoying stalking your exes on social media."

She throws her hands up. "Of course not. I talked about my hobbies and he asked me about this Machine thing. I wanted to impress him, so I lied that I own one."

I frown. "You told him you own a helmet?"

"Yes, because he seemed so interested in it. It only makes sense that he's into it. He created the damn thing."

I take a sip of my coffee as I think. "It doesn't have to be a lie. You can just get a machine and get familiar with it to have things to talk about next time."

She scoffs. "Those things are for hermits. Sexual freaks and losers without a life, except for him."

I cringe. "Um, and hopefully excluding me too?"

Her face brightens as she smiles. She jumps a bit, splashing her coffee. "So you've used it? Great! You can tell me what to say to him!"

I don't know about this. It seems misleading. He's so passionate about this hobby, and it doesn't feel right for Grace to fake it.

"Uh, I don't know about this."

She nudges my arm. "Come on, it's only a game. Please tell me what the hell there is to do in it. You know, give me tips to get the conversation going."

"Alright, I guess I can do that. Well, you can ask him about his favorite server."

"What's a server?"

"When you're in The Machine, you can load different worlds. Like a campfire in a forest or a green meadow. It's an immersive experience that looks real."

Those are two scenes I thoroughly enjoyed when I was logged in. My body pulses with the memories of pleasure.

"Good! Tell me more." She says, grinning. "Make me an expert so I can talk his ear off and the man can finally give me a ring."

"Hey, maybe he'll propose to you when you're both logged into a virtual world," I laugh.

"Gross. I would slap him."

I don't know. The idea sounds kinda romantic. If it were me, I would swoon. But of course this isn't me. Grace is the blushing girlfriend here, and I'm happy being the temporary secretary.

"So another thing you could talk with him about is the lobby. When you load in, it's full of random people. You could ask him about interesting interactions he's had."

She nods eagerly. For the next hour, I give her ideas. It still feels wrong to help her fool the guy, but I don't like seeing her upset. She's my friend.

I go home after that, enjoying the calmness of the park. It's weird laying in bed and not having my helmet nearby. It's probably cold and lonely on my boss' desk.

Fuck, did he already analyze it and find hints of the things I do when I log in? Ah, how embarrassing.

I pull at my hair and load a drama on the TV to distract myself. I get a text from Grace, and pause the video.

"What was that thing you said about the lobby? I forgot. Help me!"

I sigh as I text my response.

—

The next morning in the office, I can tell that the big bad wolf is in a bad mood. Every time he passes by my desk, I see him tugging at his tie.

Most of his emotions are hard to read, but frustration is always clear.

"Leila, come here!" He yells from his office.

I jump, startled. Usually he comes to speak with me or sends me an email. He never summons me like a dog.

I rush into his office, because this dog can't lose her job.

I open the door without knocking and ask, "yes?"

"I'm having trouble writing this article. They're asking me about my hobbies in the machine. I can't..." he pauses, his eyes narrowing. "I can't disclose that."

Why not? What is he doing in The Machine, fucking? Is the man that created it using it for the most deplorable reasons?

My body warms. "Why not?"

No. No! Those were the wrong words to blurt! Goddamn it, I'm about to melt onto his expensive carpet.

He stands from his desk, palming it. His undone tie drapes down. "Excuse me?"

"Nevermind," I rasp. "What did you need from me?"

He walks around his desk, taking steps forward and making my fingers curl tighter the closer he gets. "No. I'm interested now, Leila. Tell me what you were about to ask me."

This isn't appropriate.

This isn't moral. He's my friend's lover.

"What do you do when you are logged in? Maybe that will explain why there is a smudge on the chrome of the helmet." He grins, and it's a wicked sight.

He's teasing me. He's enjoying that he's digging into me, discovering what his timid secretary is really like.

And that smudge on the chrome that he's questioning? I wouldn't be surprised if it came from when I unplugged my fingers from my wet cunt and grabbed the helmet.

I'm mute.

He walks back to his desk, to a box sitting on the corner. I know my helmet is in there. He sets a hand on it, chuckling to himself.

I sniffle once, twice, before I barge out of the office and run for the elevator.

I'm overwhelmed with guilt. What the fuck just happened? What was that thrill I felt when he looked at me with molten eyes and took our conversation somewhere it has never gone before?

How am I supposed to face Grace?