Erotic Romance: Toronto Fantasy Club by Sasha Kale

Author:Sasha Kale [Kale, Sasha]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: UNKNOWN
Published: 2016-07-31T04:00:00+00:00

Bristol admitted Jennifer had a point

It had been months since Bristol had fucked anything except the streams of water coming out of her shower head. Couldn't even remember where her vibrator was. Didn’t I use it Sunday? No, Sunday I was trying to rent a horse for that cowboy thing and that bitch who owns the chip wagons railroaded me into getting a donkey. Saturday? No Saturday was the reception for the investor’s group. Friday? Shit. I can’t remember anything these days. If my brain is floating in a vat I hope somebody taps on the glass. Wake up, bitch!

Bristol said, “Fuck!” and viciously kicked a water cooler. The plastic base shattered and big jug hit the floor and filtered water glug-glug-glugged into the carpet. “Shit!” She straightened the jug just as this kid, Joey, from IT stuck his head into the hallway and looked around. Saw Bristol and yelped. Vanished back into an office he wasn’t supposed to be in. On the door it said: REGINALD VAN HOIT. He ran the accounting department.

"Hey, wait a minute."

Joey closed the door and twisted the lock.

Bristol was already ticked and Joey just kicked her into raging bull-mode. "Open the door, you little computer rat." //bang bang bang

"Pretty busy in here!"

More banging coming from Bristol's side of the door. Joey knows he's caught. Scrawny Joey with not an ounce of muscle on him. The IT department is forbidden from working on someone’s computer while they're on vacation. This was a total breach of protocol. Maybe if Reginald didn't break his computer every two weeks, Joey thought, they wouldn't be in this mess. Backlog repair orders and installations coming out my ass. Boss says get it done, Joey, like I'm some kind of—"

"I hear you muttering in there!"

"Dang it."

"Open the door, circuit-boy, before I call in a channel three."

She meant security detail. Shit. Okay we make it look like an accident. Joey placed the computer on its side. Not thinking straight, he grabbed a potted plant and dumped it into the motherboard. He clamped his hand on his mouth and said, "Oh my God, I'm so dead."

"Last chance!"

He opened the door and Bristol brushed past him. Closed the door behind her and locked it again.

Gulp.

She had 10 years on him. Fifteen company years. Bristol was basically a legend in the concierge circle and Joey was nobody. "How's it going, uhh, miss Bristol?" he stammered. I’m so dead.

"What are you doing in here?"

Roots of the plant stuck out of the computer like a tree monster burst out of a robot stomach. Total disaster. Dirt in the keyboard. Dirt on the carpet. Dirt fuckin’ everywhere. Remember your training, Joey. Be professional. "There was an incident with Mr. Von Hoit's workstation and he reported a—"

"Shut up."

"Okay then."

Finger in his face. Lawyer versus moron. "You're not supposed to be in here."

"Yes I am. I'm fixing this computer."

Bullshit. "You're saying Reginald von Hoit, who is right this minute surfing in Hawaii, flew in this morning, opened his computer, and dumped a plant into it.

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