3 Things I Never Expected To Hear From My Older Man About Our May-December Relationship: Part 1

My work line would not stop ring­ing. I knew it was my boss, Mr. Brown, want­ing to flirt, but I had actual work to do. I was plan­ning our busi­ness trip to Chicago. Every last detail needed to be taken care of, such as flights, rental cars, limos, and even mak­ing sure Mr. Brown’s suit was deliv­ered to his room for the main event. Every year, the firm holds a large Gala that part­ners and rep­re­sen­ta­tives from large accounts attend to schmooze. Some of the lawyers bring girl­friends, escorts, or hot young assis­tants; wives are usu­ally for­bid­den from com­ing, and so Mr. Brown nor­mally went stag.

Mrs. Brown was usu­ally far more con­cerned with local hap­pen­ings than her husband’s work func­tions, so Mr. Brown had grown accus­tomed to trav­el­ing alone. So, imag­ine my sur­prise when I got an e-mail ask­ing me to be his guest at the Gala. I guessed that my role would be the “hot assis­tant,” and that I’d be mak­ing appear­ances with him. This trip would be a chance for us to spend some time together, and while I was excited to go, I was also extremely ner­vous. It had only been a few weeks that I’d been back at the law firm, and I didn’t want to rush into any­thing. I was also very cau­tious of col­leagues catch­ing on to our flir­ta­tions. After a cou­ple more e-mails back and forth that day, I was offi­cially dis­tressed. So, I was relieved when 5 o’clock rolled around and I could go home.

The next morn­ing, I timed my arrival to be a few min­utes late so that I could avoid Mr. Brown. Just the thought of us being together out in the open at such a pres­ti­gious event gave me knots in my stom­ach. But I had already taken care of all of the work on my end: I had man­aged the travel arrange­ments, I had booked the flights, and planned all the other details—and I knew that his wife wasn’t con­cerned about the Gala.

Mr. Brown and I exchanged a few e-mails, mostly con­cern­ing upcom­ing cases, and then my phone rang again. I answered the call with the firm’s stan­dard greet­ing, but it was Mr. Brown telling me to be ready by 11:30 so that we could go to lunch and talk.

I stood by the entrance’s dou­ble doors near the ele­va­tor and waited for him. A lit­tle while later he stepped out from the ele­va­tor, laugh­ing with another big-name lawyer at the firm. He walked up to me and asked if I was ready, and we then walked out the door together and across the park­ing lot to his Bent­ley. He opened my door and helped me in. There was some­thing about being in that car—maybe it was its dark tint—that made me feel like I was in a con­fes­sional, that my secrets were safe in there, and no one would ever see or hear what I was thinking—or doing.

He started the engine and then told me there were a few things we needed to dis­cuss. I was taken aback, imme­di­ately think­ing the worst. Per­haps sens­ing what I was feel­ing, he cupped my face in his hands and looked lev­elly into my eyes. And when he sensed I had calmed down, he cleared his throat and asked if I knew that he had served in the mil­i­tary. I had seen the medals in his office, but I had assumed they were his father’s. I then con­sid­ered his hard, strong body, and I decided it wasn’t sur­pris­ing. He asked if I knew the mil­i­tary term, “rules of engage­ment.” Things were about to get interesting…

  • Melissa Knight-Lee

    Ahhh! I want to read the rest of it! lol