Two Bad Bosses_An MFM Menage Romance Page 4

  Chapter Six:

  Zane

  After my little interaction with Chloe, I needed some time to cool off in my office. I came on way too strong out there and while I’m sure Chloe felt something, I’m not sure if she wants any kind of progression. She quickly shut me down. After about an hour, I go back out to talk with Chloe. Lunchtime is approaching, and I think I’m going to invite her out to eat. Some one-on-one time with her would be a bad idea – probably – but I don’t really care. I know I should keep my distance, but I don’t really want to. When I go over to her desk, she stops moving and looks up at me.

  “Hey, Chloe. Feeling any less nervous?”

  She nods slowly, then smiles weakly, hopefully appreciating my concern.

  “Yeah. I’m chipping away at this project,” she says quietly.

  I take a quick look at the spreadsheet and she has gotten pretty far along. She’s quite the efficient worker. And her general demeanor has changed. She’s less flushed and her breathing is even. The color is back in her face and she looks more cheerful.

  “Well, it’ll be lunch in a couple hours and I was hoping you’d want to grab a bite to eat with me?” I ask.

  Chloe doesn’t say anything. She just gives me a deep look. Her eyes are really scanning my face – what she’s looking for – I don’t know. She’s about to give me answer when I hear Whit’s office door opening. I sigh because I know he’s going to wiggle his way into our lunch. He comes over and stands on the opposite side of the desk, right behind Chloe’s computer. He puts both hands on the desk, leaning against it.

  “I heard someone mention lunch plans?”

  I give him a look, but he just smirks. He knows exactly what to do to irk me, but I’m not genuinely mad at him. I’ll just have to play this game a little better than him.

  Chloe swallows loudly and then answers Whit’s question, “Yeah. Zane – I mean, Mr. Anderson invited me out to lunch.”

  It seems Chloe is feeling the competitive energy between Whit and I because she’s shifting in her seat. I feel bad that we’re making her so anxious, but I also want to draw her into my life. I need to see what will happen. It’s only been a day and I’m already breaking away from the pact Whit and I made yesterday… but he appears to be doing the same thing.

  “That sounds like fun. I’d love to tag along.” He looks so damn chipper.

  Chloe smiles at him, his enthusiasm is contagious. I can’t help but smile along with him, too – even if he’s pushing his way into my lunch with Chloe, squeezing his way into my alone time with her.

  “If that’s okay with Mr. Anderson?” Chloe looks at me. I’m not going to say no and be a jerk. She seems to want him to join us, so I agree to Whit tagging along for lunch. I also want Chloe to drop all this formal nonsense. It’s just putting up more of a barrier between us.

  “Of course, Whit can join us. And there’s no need to be so formal. Call me Zane.”

  “And call me Whit. I agree with Zane. We’ve known each other for too long to start using our formal names.”

  “Yeah, okay… Zane and Whit…”

  The way she says our names… I want her to be screaming mine when my dick is in her, her voice having that breathless quality it has right now. She curls into her body a little, turning away from both of us. I can feel her closing herself off. Whenever Whit and I get together, we have a really intense energy. I don’t want to scare her, so I imitate Whit’s sunnier attitude, dampening the edge of the two of us.

  “So, lunch. We’ll leave around 12:30.”

  “Okay.”

  Whit and I leave Chloe to her project and go back to our offices. Before I step inside, we make eye contact and have a wordless conversation, mouthing our frustrations at one another. It starts to break down into a childish mudslinging contest, so we end it and close our doors.

  I sit at my desk and chuckle to myself, entertained by this spat I’m having with Whit. From our perspective, it’s mostly all in good fun, but I can see how an outsider may find it scary. It’s just the way we are. Our friendship has a competitive spirit and we try to keep a lid on it, but we will fight over almost everything. Once we even had a ‘who could wear the most colors and still look good’ thing. I’m still not sure where that one came from and I don’t think I ever will know. Sadly, I lost that day. Whit just knows fashion way better than me and we’d gotten a third-party to judge. We weren’t allowed to question the decision. That’s a light-hearted example, but we’ve gone way too far just to prove points to one another.

  Time passes by rapidly and it’s twelve o’clock. Lunchtime has arrived. I go back to the reception area and Chloe’s already getting ready to head out. Whit joins us not too much time later and we all get into the car waiting for us downstairs. I had made reservations while sitting in my office, so that we’d have our seats ready for us when we arrived. We take the car over and when we get to the table, it’s at least a minute of us looking at one another, no one making to sit down first. Whit slides in, getting tired of waiting around and Chloe goes right after him. When her butt touches the seat, she starts up for a second and gives Whit a suspicious look before sitting right back in the same spot. I’m not sure what to make of it, so I just sit on the other side of her, sandwiching her between the two of us. There’s plenty of room in the booth for all three of us, but Whit and I make sure to get as close as possible to Chloe.

  Chloe has on a shorter skirt today and it rode up a little when she sat down. I lightly rest my hand on her thigh, exhilarated by our skin to skin contact. She glances down when I first touch her, but that’s it. She makes no comment, doesn’t try to move her leg, or even look at me. She preoccupies herself with the menu, rolling her shoulders back or clearing her throat occasionally. The sommelier comes over and offers us some wine which I accept for everyone at the table. Soon we’ve all got our glasses. It’s a nice red, something sweet that’s light and fruity. Since it’s only lunch, I don’t want to overwhelm us with alcohol. The three of us sip lightly while we are deciding on what to eat. I end up picking the chicken and while waiting for the waiter, I bring my palm up and down her soft skin, feeling goosebumps prick up.

  The waiter comes over to take our orders and then, once again, we’re all left alone. Chloe continues to sip her wine, drinking it slowly and cautiously.

  “So, Chloe. tell us what you’ve been doing the past couple years.” I think Whit has picked up on Chloe’s hesitancy and he’s trying to get her to open up.

  She takes a deep breath. “I’ve been in college. I just graduated in May which was exciting. But it’s been all about next steps lately, so that’s why I’m here – trying to figure out my future.” She’s taking sips of wine more regularly.

  “Do you want to stay at the firm after your internship is over?” I stroke her thigh as I ask, staying close to the knee.

  “I don’t know…Maybe? I know my Dad really wants me to and I’d like to make him happy.” She rests her head on her hand and then turns towards me. I can tell she’s getting a little tipsy, her movements loose, but she’s coherent.

  I look at Whit over Chloe’s head and he’s concerned, too. Maybe we should have waited until we had gotten our food before we started drinking. And as if they’ve read my mind, our plates are placed on the table in front of us. Chloe digs in immediately, almost inhaling her food. Whit laughs. Chloe pauses eating and puts her fork down.

  “Sorry. I am just really hungry,” she says sheepishly.

  “No, don’t worry about it.” Whit swipes some hair that has gotten into her eyes and tucks it behind her ear.

  Chloe softly smiles, clearly touched by the gesture. She continues to eat, but at a slower pace. I glare at Whit and he just gives me a ‘sorry, not sorry’ face. I roll my eyes and eat my chicken. I don’t take my hand from her leg, inching higher each time I stroke her thigh. Whenever I bring it up, she takes a sip of wine. I should take precaution and calm myself down, put I love the way her skin feels under my hand and I’m drunk on how I�
��m making her feel. Sometimes, she’ll take a sip when I haven’t made any movements and I notice that Whit has kept his hand under the table as well. Looks like he had the same idea as me. We truly think alike.

  My hand on her leg feels good, but it’s also a reminder of what we’re not doing. It is a subtle tease of the both of us. I want to go all the way and slip my fingers past her panties and into her, playing with her clit as she tries to keep from making too much noise. Shit! That would be sexy as hell. I’m so fucking hard… If Chloe looked down, she would see the massive bulge in my pants. I’m going to need to calm this down before we leave. It’ll be embarrassing as hell walking out of this restaurant with an erection this intense. I don’t think I’d be able to come back…

  But what would solidify my banishment from this restaurant is if I pushed all of our food off the table and took her right here and now. It would feel good, the consequences would be enormous, but It’d be that much sweeter because I would have beaten Whit to the punch.

  Chapter Seven:

  Chloe

  When I first sat in the booth, I landed on Whit’s hand and freaked out. When I looked at him, he gave me a funny smile and I realized his hand may have been there on purpose. I surprised myself by sitting in the exact same spot, letting his palm cup my ass cheek. I could have easily told him to stop, but I don’t think I wanted him to. But then, after sitting down, Zane put his hand on my thigh. When I was getting dressed this morning, I remembered the note I made to myself while filing for Whit. I even had a pair of pants waiting for me on my chair, but no. I was like, “Put on a skirt, Chloe. One that’s even shorter than what you wore the day before because you’ve been having these intense fucking fantasies and why let anything come between you and it becoming a reality.” I’m not saying I’m regretting my decision… I’m just saying I’m confused and frazzled. Both of their hands are on me, Zane stroking my leg and Whit randomly massaging my ass. Everything is tingling and on fire and I’d love to relieve the tension growing in me but being in public kills those plans.

  I keep my knees close together, hoping that’ll be enough to keep me centered, but Zane’s hand goes higher and higher, teasing me. A very big part of me wants him to go all the way and just stick a few fingers inside of me and I can’t deal with that thought. At some point, one of the boys ordered us wine because my glass is suddenly full. I start taking sips whenever Zane or Whit makes me feel something. I make sure they’re small sips, but I’m taking a lot of them because I’m feeling tipsy. Zane and Whit try to keep up a conversation, but I’m getting drunker and drunker, I’m not sure if I’m making any sense

  “What do you do for fun?” Zane asks me.

  I scratch my head, thinking about what I do in my free time… Masturbate to thoughts of you two fucking me. And when I say you two fucking me, I mean at the same time. I know I can’t say that, so what else do I do…

  “I like crafting. I’m a very big D-I-Y-er.” I over enunciate, wanting to make sure my words are sensical, but it just makes me sound drunk – which I am!

  “That sounds fun. Have you made anything recently?” Zane ignores my drunken state and continues asking me about my crafting. Whit has intensified my ass massage, his fingers really digging into my ass cheek.

  I eat while I try and remember what I’ve done recently. My mind’s a little fuzzy, but a memory starts to form. One of a bookshelf… that’s because the last thing I made was a bookshelf…

  “But I still need to paint it…” It’s a beautifully crafted, but kind of bland looking bookshelf. I was going to get it done after graduating, but my Dad had me come here, so that’s been put on hold.

  “What do you still need to paint?” Whit chimes in, asking me what I’m talking about.

  “A bookshelf, silly. Did you not hear me say that?” I’m so sure I told them about the bookshelf. They must not be listening to me because I very clearly said it was.

  I take a longer sip of wine, loving its fruity sweetness. My thoughts are becoming more and more jumbled, but this wine tastes really good, so I don’t want to stop drinking it. Plus, my glass never seems to empty. The service here is really fucking good.

  “I must have missed it. So, you made the bookshelf yourself?”

  I’m no longer paying attention to who is saying what – it’s all just men talking to me.

  “Yeah. I’m pretty handy with a tool.” Another sip of wine because that was awkwardly worded.

  “Did it take you a long time?”

  I shake my head, “Nah, it took me like a week, maybe? I had off from school and I just went at it. I think I was mad at someone for something and hacking away at wood made me feel better. Channeling my energy and all.”

  I look down at my plate and realize I’ve eaten all my food. The plate next to mine has some potatoes on it and I use my fingers to put them in my mouth. They are crisp and buttery, and the best potato wedges I have ever had in my life.

  “Fuck! These are good!” I eat about three more and then it dawns on me – this isn’t my plate. I am eating someone else’s food. “Sorry, if I ate your food. I’m just hungry and very drunk.” I pop four more in my mouth before stopping. Being drunk is amazing. I love the lack of shame.

  “Don’t worry about it. Why don’t we get you outside?”

  Whatever happens next, I don’t pay too much attention to it. All I know is there are four hands holding me up. That’s a good thing because I cannot walk. I think if I had zero support, I’d collapse on to the ground, a drunken mess. I giggle at the thought.

  We get outside and the fresh air snaps me out of my drunken haze – at least a little. I’m more aware of how ridiculous I’m being and some of that shame comes creeping in. I remember having a lot of dirty thoughts, but I’m very sure I didn’t say any of them. A girl can hope…

  I rub my eyes, the bright light hurting a little. “Zane? Whit?” I look at the two of them on either side of me and feel mortified. Jesus, I’m being a fool.

  “Yeah,” they respond simultaneously.

  “How much did I drink?”

  “You drank quite a bit, Chloe. I was surprised watching you down glass after glass.” Zane’s words sting a little.

  They must think I’m such a little girl. How could I let myself drink so much? It’s the middle of a workday, I have to go back to the office and continue on that damn marketing project. Dad would be so disappointed in me. I let two men get into my head and tried to use alcohol to make myself feel better about it. I’m about to apologize when an enormous yawn comes out of me. Fuck. I forgot wine makes me sleepy.

  “Don’t worry, Chloe. The car is almost here to take us back to the office.” Whit rubs my back as he tries to comfort me. I lean into his hand, finding the small circles he’s making serene. I love the way he touches me. There’s this contrast between gentle and assertive. When he swiped my hair from my face earlier, I almost kissed his hand.

  I’m so comfortable that I almost fall asleep against Whit’s chest, but the car arrives, and we get in. While we ride back, I rest my head on Zane’s shoulder. It’s equally as comfortable as Whit’s chest and I’m still not sure who I like better. The fact that I might have to choose between them is becoming more of a reality. In all my fantasies, I’ve never had to choose between them – that’s why they were fantasy. I could never see the two of them being okay with me seeing them both. How would the logistics of that even work? I’m not against polyamory or anything, it’s just the two of them are best friends and there is bound to be some awkwardness if I tried to have two separate relationships with them. Maybe it’s better to not even think about. I can just take little power naps on them, enjoying whatever contact is afforded to me without crossing that ultimate line.

  We get to the office and Zane and Whit sneak me in, so no one sees my drunken state. We wouldn’t want my noontime happy hour moment getting back to my Dad on his yacht. He would turn that thing around so fast and then where would I be? Ashamed and stuck explain to my Dad why I let
Zane and Whit get me drunk.

  We reach the top floor and I’m led to Zane’s office. Whit follows behind, his hand resting on my back, gently pushing me forward. I’m doing my best to stay awake, but – at this point – I’m dirt tired, so when Zane suggests I take a nap on the couch in his office, I offer very little protest.

  “You should maybe get some sleep, Chloe. I think it’ll do you some good.”

  “I don’t know, there’s still work I need to get done.”

  “It’ll be there tomorrow. Right now, I want you to worry about you.”

  I nod and lie myself down on the couch. It’s so soft and warm that I start to fall asleep almost immediately. I think Whit and Zane are talking about something, but their voices are so low that I can’t quite make out what they’re saying. I’m just able to hear my name. Oh, they must be complaining about my behavior today. It really was abysmal, and I feel so ashamed.

  “I’m sorry for being so unprofessional today. I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again…” I mutter incoherently.

  One of them responds, but I’m so far gone that I don’t know what it is they said.

  Chapter Eight:

  Whit

  Today’s lunch got a little out of hand. Chloe got wasted. Zane and I were so preoccupied with touching her that we didn’t do a better job of noticing the sheer amount of wine she drank. She just kept talking little sips, so I didn’t stop to think that she was taking too many little sips. And I knew Zane had ordered a lighter wine, but just like the sips, if you drink enough you can get drunk off it.

  We were able to get her back to the office without anyone seeing her, so that was a win. It’s only day two and Zane and I have already broken our promise to Jack. We’re supposed to be watching out for her, not feeding her wine at lunchtime. And we’re especially not supposed to be getting her so plied with wine that she can barely walk out of the restaurant.