Something New

Chapter 1

Six months ago, Allegra Thomlison, the executive director of the Kenton Genesis Mission, shot herself in the head in her office.

She didn’t leave a note. However, after she committed suicide, it was revealed she was involved in an illicit affair with the Head of Human Resources, despite the non-fraternization policy constituted by the by-laws of the non-profit organization.

Crystal Blue, an Agency Development Manager, took the act as an omen, since she, too, had been dating someone within the organization. She didn’t stop dating the educated and fine Assistant Controller Nick Spelling, since how many brothers did she know that could afford and even want orthodontics in their adulthood? But she still took a pause, even if she took it privately.

It was the first time she saw exactly why the policy was in place. The more sordid details that came out about Allegra and her affair partner, the more it sounded like the early months of Crystal’s own two-year relationship with Nick. Secret lunches on the other side of town; make-out sessions in the parking lot after working late; even one midday tryst in the very office she ended her life in. Being on the executive team, they spent a lot of time together, more time than they spent with their respective spouses.

Apparently, the Head of Human Resources, a balding but otherwise attractive man named Nathan Ryan, broke off the affair right before he announced his wife was pregnant. Allegra was dead a week later.

Crystal and Nick weren’t like Allegra and Nathan. Neither of them were engaged in an affair. In fact, both of them had met the other’s families. They’d been on vacations, and had keys to the other’s homes.

Even Beth, Crystal’s co-worker turned friend, knew about the relationship. So no, it wasn’t exactly the same.

But Allegra’s death still bothered Crystal. They weren’t close, but they were cordial. Allegra was her boss’s boss, but they were both Black, so there was an extra friendliness that came from skinfolk in the workplace. When Crystal excelled at work, Allegra personally congratulated her. When the Christmas gifts were passed down during the holiday season, Crystal’s gift was a little better than the others. And the day after Mr. Ryan announced his wife’s pregnancy at the staff meeting, Crystal noticed Allegra was a little sad, she gave her the lemon bar Nick brought her, since she doesn’t even like them.

So she was, naturally, distraught when she read her email that morning that detailed why operations were ceasing temporarily. Mourning her boss’s boss.

But also, mourning a formidable woman. Executive Director of one of the oldest nonprofit organizations in Kenton, and achieved this before forty, and as a Black woman. Allegra Thomlison was someone Crystal strived to be.

And it seemed like the legacy she was building was upended by a man.

A man who, after being cleared of any wrongdoing, still has his job, still has his wife, and also has a newborn child. Completely moved on, while Allegra Thomlison’s brain matter was still staining the back wall of her office.

These were the thoughts running through her mind when Nick mentioned to Crystal that they should move in together the night before. Crystal was able to dodge having a serious conversation about it, but she knew her boyfriend. That was not the end of his inquiry.

And that was a natural progression of their relationship. It had been two years of steamy nights, minimal arguments, and countless laughs. However, Crystal has also been steadily building her profile as a top grant writer in the agency. Just last quarter, she secured the largest grant for the Mission, her third five-figure grant. It’s a feat, but it’s not enough for upper management to look the other way for her breaking policy.

And she wasn’t trying to leave. Which would have been the inevitable compromise to their new discussion. Nick was needed here, since the Controller, his boss, was still on medical leave for the foreseeable future. It made the most sense for Crystal to find another job.

Giving up her girl apartment. Giving up her job. Just to have to do boy laundry and have in-house dick?

Crystal thanked the Heavens her sister called and summoned her away from Nick’s apartment.

Today wouldn’t be the day they continued the conversation, either. The Board of Directors finally hired Allegra Thomlison’s replacement, and they were introducing themselves at the staff meeting this morning. The whole process had been under wraps, and not even Crystal's direct supervisor, Ms. Palmer, knew who they would be bringing in.

Everyone in the Development and Communications department–all four of them–were waiting on pins and needles.

Crystal checked her emails before Beth peeked over her cubicle wall. At first glance, Beth looked sorely out of place for being a grant writer at a nonprofit that services the marginalized communities of the city. Her hair was platinum blonde, with the type of short bangs that don’t even go to her eyebrows that few people can pull off. And even though Beth adhered to the dress code of the corporate office, she still somehow dressed like a vintage pinup girl, with the dark and dramatic makeup to match.

Crystal knew the only reason they became friends was because they’d shared a cubicle wall for the last five years, but she still couldn’t imagine life without her.

“Nervous?” Beth asked, resting her chin on her forearms and lifting her overly plucked brows.

“Why would I be nervous?” Crystal replied, before exiting out of her email.

Beth looked around before leaning down more into Crystal’s cubicle. “Regime changes are always nuts. When I worked at FatBoys and we got a new manager, he ended up firing half the staff!” Beth leaned down even more and cupped her mouth. “I was only saved because I let him eat my ass after his first shift.”

Crystal snorted before looking up at her grinning friend. Beth may have looked like one thing, but underneath the vintage clothes and dark red lipstick, was a wild ass white girl who grew up in some of the same homeless shelters the Mission funded, who worked sometimes four jobs to get a sociology degree. Beth told it like it was, and was unapologetic in how her life played out. In addition to fast food jobs, she robbed, stole, and even did a stint in some brothel while she went to State. She landed a corporate job straight out of college from a recommendation from one of her johns, and stacked every penny she could. At thirty-five, she was debt free and could afford the serious pay cut that came with working at nonprofit organizations. Her mother and sister had stable housing. And her townhouse was featured in an architectural magazine; the article is framed next to her Kenton Playmate spread in her living room.

But the downside to always getting to it was living a lonely life. Crystal was Beth’s only friend, like Beth was Crystal’s. The other white girls in her niche cosplayed Beth’s gritty attitude, so they didn’t mesh well. And besides photoshoots and conventions, Beth would rather be with her mother and sister–same as Crystal.

They thought of themselves more as sisters than friends, and fate decided to bring them together at the Mission.

“I don’t think the new ED is gonna fire anyone, Beth. And even if he did, you know we’re safe. We’re the bread and butter.” Crystal stood and slipped on her work pumps. At her desk, she preferred her work crocs, but she wanted to make a good first impression.

It’s why she decided on the modest white collared shirt and high waisted wide legged black pants for her work ensemble that morning. Nothing could ever hide the homegrown ass and tits with a side of tummy she inherited from her mother, but at least with the shirt buttoned all the way, and the tailored blazer, she felt she looked respectable. Important. An integral member of the team.

Her work pumps still only put her on Beth’s chin, but only because she decided on sky high pumps herself, with a pink petal collared shirt and high waisted peach satin capris. Beth had a shape on her as well, but she delighted in showing it off, even if it was only at work. 

Beth hooked her arm in Crystal’s as they made the short trek to the main conference room on the floor. “I’ll make sure we’re both saved from the purging,” she whispered to her.

“Stop,” Crystal snorted. 

Kenton Genesis Mission’s corporate office took up the fourth and fifth floors of the Park Building in Downtown Kenton. Accounting, the Community Engagement, and Human Resources had offices on the fourth floor, while the Executive Director, CFO, and the Development and Communications Department took the fifth floor, along with the main conference room that has an entire wall of windows–even if the windows just show other buildings in the business district.

Still, when Crystal and Beth entered, they were able to snag two seats that allowed them to gaze out into the sunny day, as more of their coworkers poured in.

The Kenton Genesis Mission’s corporate department had maybe twenty employees on a good day. Ninety percent of their reach was in the complex and vast network of volunteers for the dozens of programs they funded and oversaw throughout the city. Mavis Chennault, a haggard woman with a raspy voice and who only wore tennis shoes, was the Director of Community Engagement. She rushed in, snagging the empty seat next to Crystal in a cloud of White Diamonds perfume.

“Hey, Ms. Channault,” Beth said, leaning over Crystal with a wry smile.

“Ladies,” she replied, curling her lip ever so slightly.

Ms. Channault had been at the Mission since before they’d moved to the Park Building, and her neverending feud with the D&C–as the Development and Communications department is nicknamed–has been just as long. No matter how much money they squeezed out of wherever, it was never enough.

The accounting department breezed in like the fraternity they act like. Most of them were men of color; Black, Hispanic, and Ravi Patel, who went to college with Crystal. The low-level employees and payroll took up spots along the back wall, while Nick eased into a seat across from Crystal.

She took a moment to look over her boyfriend. Every day, Nick Spelling wore a navy blue suit to work. Now that Crystal had been to his house and rummaged through his closet, she knew he had twelve navy blue suits so that he never ran out in case of emergency or a cleaners run.

Every other day, Nick Spelling wore either a white button down, or a powder blue button down. 

The only real variation of Nick Spelling’s work clothes were his ties. He never, ever, wore the same tie twice in a quarter. He had an entire corner in his walk-in closet dedicated to his ties. They were his prized possessions–he said that himself when she gawked at him.

But Nick Spelling’s mahogany brown skin was blemish-free. His haircut was always sharp, waves always seasick. He had full lips that he probably got teased for as a kid, but as an adult, were divine and always moisturized. And the singular dimple that punctuated his right cheek every time he talked was a chef’s kiss–to Crystal and every other woman who encountered him.

The icing on top? Nick Spelling was tall. He had an actual personality, from having to grow into his looks. And last, but certainly not least, Nick Spelling had a dick the same size as a newborn’s arm.

Nick Spelling was every mother’s prayer for their daughter. Even Crystal’s mother Cecilia was charmed by him when he attended Christmas service with her family the year before. Crystal had always dated the cream of the crop, but even she had to admit, God certainly took His time with Nick Spelling.

So why was the idea of moving in with him souring her stomach?

It couldn’t just be about Allegra Thomlison, right? It had to be some type of weird intuitive thing that she couldn’t understand yet?

Still, when Nick met Crystal’s appreciative and apprehensive gaze, he smiled, his dimple making an appearance.

“Good morning, ladies,” he crooned, briefly making eye contact with Ms. Chennault and Beth.

“Hey, Nick,” all three of them chirped, making him chuckle.

Nick Spelling was the darling of the corporate office. Mostly because of his looks, but also because he’d been holding down the Accounting department as Assistant Controller ever since he was hired. His boss was always on some type of leave, but no one could ever tell. He was due for a promotion, Allegra had told him herself.

That had been stalled, but he constantly talked to Crystal about bringing up the promotion to the new ED, as soon as they were hired.

At precisely nine a.m., the conference door swung open, and commanding and delicious cologne filtered through.

Crystal turned toward the door, and her breath stalled.

Damn, she thought, her lips parted.

He couldn’t have possibly been her boss’s new boss?

For one, he had to have been at least twenty years younger than Allegra Thomlison. He couldn’t have been more than five years older than Crystal’s thirty-two years. Sure, black didn’t crack, but damn.

And then, that was the other thing; he was Black. Rich, dark skin, covering delicious muscles and wrapped in a suit worth more than Crystal’s luxury rent. The overhead lights reflected perfectly off his shiny bald head as he walked with purpose through the conference room.

He took the long way, walking along the wall of windows, giving Crystal an amazing view of his side profile. Flawless diamond earrings adorned his ears, and that jaw!

As he walked behind Nick, Crystal was able to compare the two. Her beau was still fine, but put next to the big dog, Nick Spelling was a pup.

And by the way Nick turned around and screwed his face up at the mystery man, he knew it too.

The man took the last empty seat in the room, the chair at the head of the long conference room table. He unbuttoned his jacket, and leaned forward, folding his hands on the table. On one of his pinkies was a gold class ring. There were no other rings on any other of his perfectly lotioned fingers. 

When Crystal dragged her gaze up, her breath stalled once more. The mystery man’s coal eyes were already set on her.

They flitted down, then slowly rose, taking in all of her. His gaze felt like his big hands, caressing her. Worshipping her.

When he finally locked eyes with her again, she swore she saw his lips twitch, before he blinked and looked around the rest of the room.

Surely that didn’t just happen? Crystal thought. But then Beth’s elbow landed on her side, and when she looked over, her darkly painted lips were fixed in a smirk.

The man cleared his throat, gaining her attention again.

“Good morning.” 

Jeez, Crystal thought. His voice called her nipples to attention immediately. She wondered how it sounded whispering in her ear.

“My name is Damien Rockwell. As of this morning, I’m the new Executive Director of the Kenton Genesis Mission.”

Nick scoffed. Damien shifted his gaze to him, a grin pulling at his lips.

Nick looked away, almost embarrassed, which made Damien smile harder, and made Crystal tilt her head.

“I look forward to working with all of you,” Damien continued. “I’ll be handling individual introductions later. For now, I’d like to go over a few things.”

 

*

 

The employee group chat lit up before Crystal could even make it back to her cubicle.

Everyone was scared. Scared enough that Mr. Rockwell’s good looks were the very last thing on the agenda of the impromptu Happy Hour/Meeting scheduled at Park Boulevard, the bar located inside the Park Building.

Damien Rockwell was a shark. And his loosely outlined plan he spouted at the staff proved just how capable–and borderline delusional–Mr. Rockwell was.

Eight million dollars in five years. Mr. Rockwell wanted–no, demanded–the Mission raise their budget by eight million dollars in five years. That type of growth had never been done in its almost one hundred-thirty year history. Nick gawked at Mr. Rockwell openly as he spoke life into his plans as the new ED.

Crystal was shocked.

And wet.

As the day went on, she grew uncomfortable. Especially when a meeting appeared on her calendar for the next day for a one-on-one. She barely looked at the employee group chat, especially when screenshots of Mr. Rockwell’s impressive rèsumé began to pile up.

If anyone could raise that type of money, clearly, it was him.

By five-thirty, Crystal was on her second margarita, squished in a booth between Beth and Soren from Community Engagement. She was feeling good, the kind of good that had her rubbing on her thighs as she peered at Nick from across the booth.

His tie was loose, and he was angrily whispering to one of his colleagues. An influx of funds meant allocating them to their respective programs, which meant more work year-round, and for the yearly audit. Nick wasn’t the best with stress, nor was he good with switching up in his routines. Plus, when Crystal finally did scroll through the group chat, she noticed he had more animosity toward their new boss than she thought appropriate for a stranger.

Still, when he was fired up, he was sexy. And even though Crystal was all set to keep ignoring him, she knew if she wanted to survive her meeting with Mr. Rockwell the next day, she couldn’t be keyed up.

With that in mind, she slipped her phone into her lap and typed out a message she knew would get her plan in motion.

 

Crystal: I need that dick inside me in the next ten minutes or else .

 

She smirked when Nick grabbed his phone. His eyes ballooned almost cartoonishly, before he killed off his Hennesy and Coke.

Crystal leaned over to Beth. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Beth beamed. “I have a meeting with Boss Daddy at nine-thirty. When is yours?”

“Nine.” So, Crystal’s meeting was before Beth’s. She wondered if he was meeting with Ms. Palmer before her? 

“Lucky bitch,” Beth whispered as they hugged. She let her out of the booth, and Crystal grabbed her purse before turning to Nick, who was already in front of her.

“Heading out? I’ll walk you.”

“Such a gentleman,” Crystal beamed, before turning to their coworkers to say goodbye.

Beth was Crystal’s only friend at work, but she was cordial with her other coworkers in the same generation as her. There were about ten of them, all hired in the last ten years, and all committed to complaining about the old guard. They were fun at Staff Appreciation events, and Yesenia from Community Engagement’s wedding the year before was a time, but Crystal knew how to set boundaries. 

Which was why even two margaritas in, she kept a respectable space between herself and Nick. She didn’t even let him open her car door when they got to the garage, nor did she say goodbye.

It was a short drive out of downtown toward her mid-city apartment she adored. A cackle erupted from her when she saw Nick had beat her there, getting out of his car as she swung into the appointed space next to the guest spot he occupied.

Here, at her home, things were different. None of their coworkers lived this way; she knew that from asking for a ride when she’d had a few too many a couple years back. So when Nick rounded her car, she didn’t think anything about palming the back of his head and bringing him down so that she could capture his lips.

His strong hands went to her ass immediately, squeezing and kneading her globes as they devoured each other.

Crystal’s sex drive was on another level since she entered her thirties, and Nick tried his best to keep up, succeeding most days. Crystal prayed he could keep up that night.

“Get in the house,” he panted through kisses. Crystal nodded, and squealed when he slapped her butt as she switched ahead of him toward her door.

She barely had enough time to hang her purse on the hook before Nick was slamming her against the wall. In seconds, they were both naked, and Nick gently caressed her slick clit.

“You wet as fuck, baby,” he groaned, shoving them into her.

Crystal gasped, her fingernails digging into his shoulders. 

He stroked her middle only for a second before backing away.

“Lay on the couch.”

Crystal obliged, drunk on love. Not even the usual sting from watching Nick grab a condom from his wallet could deter her need to come.

She spread her legs as far as she could and rubbed her own fingers through her folds.

She was wet as fuck. Sopping, really. It’d been too long for her–only days, but still.

Nick sheathed his dick in the condom and sauntered over to her, her favorite toy standing at attention.

She didn’t even need prep. Didn’t want it either.

She just wanted this.

Nick feeding her greedy pussy his dick, inch by inch. 

He didn’t start off slow. Two years into their relationship, Nick knew exactly how Crystal wanted it when she got like this.

Fast. Hard. Rough.

One hand squeezed the back of the couch, while the other dug into the meat of her hip as he pounded her.

Crystal was a vocal lover. She chanted yes with each stroke, each time he bottomed out.

Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as her orgasm surged to the front. But something was holding her back. She stretched her neck, letting Nick pepper kisses down the column of her throat.

Fuck, she thought. What could get her there?

“You look so good,” a deep voice muttered in her head.

Deep and familiar, though she’d only ever heard it that day.

“Come for me, Blue,” the voice commanded.

She squeezed her toes together and came gloriously all over her boyfriend’s dick.

To the sound of her new boss’s voice in her head.

 

*

 

If anything, the sex session Crystal had with Nick made her even more hyper aware. The fabric from her wrap dress slid across her body as she walked toward Mr. Rockwell’s new office, making the hairs on her arms stand.

She resisted the urge to run her fingers through her silk wrap.

It was just a thirty minute one-on-one. A quick introduction. The Executive Director worked closely with D&C–they were both committed to finding funds for the agency.

Plenty of times Allegra worked with the department to secure funding, whether it was through the annual gala, special projects, or consistent donors.

Crystal wiped her clammy palms on her hips and knocked on the closed door.

“Come in.”

His voice sounded just like it did when she came for the first time the night before. How her mind replicated it so perfectly, she didn’t know.

Nevertheless, she opened the door, and stepped inside.

Allegra’s brain matter was gone. They put up new wallpaper. Blue, this time, not gray.

Mr. Rockwell stood as Crystal entered the office, and gestured for them to sit at the couch and armchair, closer to the windows. She took the couch, crossing her ankles and resting her arms in her lap.

Briefly, she realized she was eye level with his crotch, but she shook the thought away as he unbuttoned his suit jacket and took a seat in the chair next to her.

He had a binder in his hand, but his intense gaze was set on Crystal, commanding eye contact.

She couldn’t hold it. Instead, her eyes danced all over the fine specimen in front of her. 

This close, she saw the hole in his nose where a ring once sat. He looked like he wore a hoop, and could pull it off. His suit was tailored, with only a peek of muscle showing underneath it. Still, she knew a man like him had to live in the gym. The late night web search she performed after she fucked Nick to sleep let her know he was forty-five, and had been building his reputation of service and swindling money from rich people to help the needy since he was in high school, raising money for his basketball team’s new uniforms.

Mr. Rockwell could shine in any room in the city, and she couldn’t wait for the yearly audit to find out just how much the Mission was paying him to be their ED.

“Good morning, Ms. Blue,” Mr. Rockwell said. Crystal dragged her eyes back to his, and clenched her thighs.

There was a ghost of a smirk again. She was busted, and only a thin layer of embarrassment covered her.

“Good morning, Mr. Rockwell.”

“I’ll cut to the chase; I wanted to meet with you first because as I studied the pattern of major gifts to the agency for the past five years, your name comes up the most.”

Mr. Rockwell opened the binder and began to list Crystal’s accomplishments. The apples in her cheeks warmed by the second, as she averted her eyes.

Crystal loved her job. She loved helping people, and loved the feeling of securing more funds so that the marginalized and needy in the city she was born and raised in could get the help they needed. The Kenton Genesis Mission funded numerous homeless shelters, as well as food pantries and childcare centers across the city, thanks to longtime donors and partnerships with businesses and churches spanning decades.

However, Crystal secured over a hundred thousand dollars personally since she started at the Mission five years ago.

And every gift was laid out, one by one by Mr. Rockwell.

Her nipples rubbed against the padding of her bra. Praise, plus intense eye contact, equaled ruined panties. She was glad she opted for them at all.

“You’re the reason why I know we can meet my goal, Ms. Blue. Between the two of us, we can push the Mission to new heights.”

Crystal wiped her palms on her thighs again, ignoring how Mr. Rockwell tracked the movement.

“I… First, I’m flattered, Mr. Rockwell, truly. But eight million dollars in five years–”

“Is doable–”

“Is egregious,” she continued, arching a brow. Maybe him singing her praises helped her gain her voice, but if he truly thought of them as a new dream team, then she needed to voice her concerns.

“On top of a fickle economy, we already have relationships with the top donors of the city. So somehow, we’re either going to have to ask for more money than they already give, or… I don’t know, sir.”

Mr. Rockwell narrowed his eyes as he regarded Crystal. Slowly, he stood and took a step toward her.

She tilted her head to keep his gaze. Besides, if she were to look eye level, his crotch would be in her face, and whatever professionalism she was still holding onto would be out the window behind her.

“It’s my second day here, and you’re doubting me? Better yet, you’re doubting yourself.” Mr. Rockwell’s voice lowered an octave as his piercing eyes stared into her soul.

His big hands were fists at his sides until he lifted one palm up. Crystal slipped her hand into it, relishing how his long fingers curled around it before he helped her up.

They were too close. Her ample chest rubbed against his torso before she settled into her work pumps.

Mr. Rockwell was tall. Taller than Nick. Taller than her daddy. In her work pumps, Crystal came up to his shoulder, so she knew on bare feet she only reached his chest.

His broad chest.

“Crystal.”

Crystal closed her eyes at the sound of her name on his tongue, even though she knew it was wrong. Only her mother and Nick called her Crystal; everyone else, even her sister and daddy, called her Blue. 

Finally, the first pangs of guilt shot through her chest. She was crossing so many lines, lines that she knew, if it were the other way around, she’d dump Nick in a heartbeat and get her brother-in-law on him.

Tears lined her lids. She needed space, immediately. But her feet were glued to the ground. She was stuck.

A soft squeeze of her hand gave her enough energy to open her lids and meet his gaze again.

“Don’t ever doubt yourself in front of me. If I say you can do something, you can and will do it.”

His voice was soft, curling around her neck with sweet promises of something other than securing money from donors.

Robotically, she nodded her head. Mr. Rockwell’s lip twitched, before he licked them, leaving them slightly glistening.

“Good,” he whispered.

He leaned down and grabbed the forgotten binder, before handing it to Crystal. “The last twenty pages detail the gala we’ll be hosting in six months to secure the first two million. From now on, the gala will be your only objective. We’ll be working closely together on this, and now you know how serious I am about my expectations, right?”

Crystal grabbed the binder and nodded once more, words failing her. But thankfully, her feet were able to move again, and she was able to keep upright as she walked over to the door.

Mr. Rockwell was on her heels. He grabbed the doorknob before she could, keeping her there longer than she needed to be.

The few milliseconds away from him gave  her enough knowhow to remember she was in a committed relationship, even if it was secret.

She was committed. She was in love. She was happy.

And she committed, happy girls in love didn’t salivate over their boss.

“I almost forgot; Nick Spelling will be our accounting liaison as we plan and execute the gala. Is he capable?”

Crystal’s mouth dried up so fast her tongue felt like it was scraping across her lips.

She turned and spread her lips into a tight smile. “Nick is an asset to the team. Have a great day, Mr. Rockwell.”

Not caring that his hand was still on the doorknob, Crystal ignored the sparks on her fingers as she grabbed it and twisted it as well. She needed air.

She needed to rub one out.

She needed her mother’s prayers, because that was the only way she was going to get through this gala.

Chapter 2

Dame Rockwell had met his wife.
Dame was also sure his wife was fucking someone else.
The Board of Directors had damn near drilled into his head their ironclad non-fraternization policy, especially after the suicide of the previous Executive Director. But Dame was old enough to remember why the Kenton Genesis Mission had first split from the St. Stephen Missionary Church in the first place. 
The Kenton Genesis Mission had a serious history with fraternization ending in death.
But that didn’t deter Dame from claiming Crystal Blue the second he saw her. 
Being a lifelong bachelor, such visceral feelings should have scared Dame. He’d never once had the urge to ever have a woman to himself, not even his son’s mother.
However, the feeling that came over Dame was identical to any other major life moment in his life. The same feeling he felt when his son was born; when he beat his first case; when he held his first million-dollar check; when he woke up the day of his final interview for this position. Dame Rockwell has always felt when his life was about to change, and when he saw Crystal Blue sitting in the conference room his first day addressing the employees of the Kenton Genesis Mission corporate office, his stomach tightened nearly to the point of nausea once again.
She was supposed to mean something to him. 
And when he took his seat, and cataloged the color of her skin–a warm shade of darkened honey–her nose accentuated with a small diamond stud, full, naturally pouted lips, healthy and thick hair that framed her face perfectly, and the look in her eyes that Dame had seen countless times before, but never on her, he knew.
He knew this was the woman who was meant to be his.
And what luck Dame had that the comprehensive and rigorous plan he outlined that even got him this Executive Director gig, included the illustrious and talented Crystal Blue. He was all set to work with her for the next six months to plan and execute a gala of all the rich friends he’s made throughout his life, to donate their tax write-offs simply because they fuck with Dame. Really, the gala was a formality. He learned long ago to never show his full hand.
Now, knowing his wife was who he handpicked for his team, he was more invested than ever.
Dame found himself nearly giddy at finding who he’d spend the rest of his life with. It wasn’t like he was lonely, or ever hurting for female company. In fact, as he ruminated on his plan of action, his personal phone was blowing up with all types of provocative texts, photos, and videos, begging for some time from him. It wasn’t that he didn’t care for women; Dame loved women. Life circumstances kept him from having any meaningful relationships in his younger years, but after his son was out of the house and living life, he had a few girlfriends, women who were also still on his line. 
None of them were special enough to write home about.
Which was why Dame took care of himself. Early morning workouts five days a week. Eating clean, and at home unless a work dinner at only the restaurants where he knew the finest ingredients were used. Yearly check ups, and twice-yearly dentist visits. He never wanted to settle down with a woman to have a built-in caretaker. No; if he were to ever marry, it wouldn’t be for that.
Now, it would be because he’d be damned to let his wife slip away as fast as he’d just met her. And, obviously, Dame couldn’t give a fuck about a non-fraternization policy.
It seemed as if his future wife didn't care, either.
They didn’t see him in the parking garage on his first day here. And to the untrained eye, it looked like two coworkers leaving at the same time.
But Dame saw the small smile filled with lust on Crystal’s face. He also saw Nick Spelling trip over his own two feet trying to get to his car.
They were fucking. Definitely.
For the next week, Dame watched them both. They were adept at keeping their dalliances lowkey, but little things gave them away: Elisabeth Bundt’s smirk every time he passed her and Crystal’s adjoining cubicles; Nick’s bragging on his faceless girlfriend to the other peons in Accounting; and Nick’s lip curling every time Dame and Crystal spoke in their initial planning meeting, which let Dame know that taking Crystal from him would be that much sweeter.
Nick Spelling was just as pussy as his cousin, Vincent Spelling. That meant two things; Nick wouldn’t tell anyone about their shared history, but he’d also be an annoying hiccup in Dame’s plan.
That would never deter him, though. In fact, taking Crystal from Nick may make the top five moments of his life, when it’s all said and done.
Maybe I’ll even get to beat his ass like I did his cousin, Dame thought as he sent out the e-vite he’d created. He was fairly certain they were an item, but he needed to know how deep it went.
Thankfully, as the boss, he could do whatever the fuck he wanted, which in this case, meant hosting a corporate dinner at the end of the month. Part of his philosophy at any job he took was being approachable. On paper, Dame had pedigree. In person, Dame knew how he came off. It was why, whether he was in South Kenton on his old block, or in the business district in a boardroom, he’d stand out. It was something he was aware of for decades, and learned to use to his advantage. He ran a tight ship, but he wanted his employees to respect him, not fear him. There was a time and place for fear.
And now was not the time for that. Fear could come later, but now was the time for observation, and lowering defenses.
Leading up to the dinner, Dame made sure to walk the floors of the corporate office every day. He learned the name of each person who worked on the fourth and fifth floors, and cataloged their quirks. Quickly, he learned of the rift between the D&C and the Community Engagement department. Sandra Palmer, the Chief Development Officer, had been at the Mission for almost as long as Dame had been alive, and was stuck in the old ways of giving and distributing funds. Thankfully, she listened to Crystal and Beth–she corrected Dame during their one-on-one–but there was still contention with not enough money to go around, especially when program directors didn’t feel like kissing her ass.
Dame sat in on accounting meaning, holding back grins each time he met the gaze of Nick, and watched him squirm. His personal phone had been damn near on constant vibrate since his first day, but he’d keep them waiting. To his delight, everyone in Accounting warmed up to Dame immediately, and all RSVP’ed, confirming their attendance to the dinner.
Same with the Community Engagement Department. After he met with them onsite at one of the food pantries with one of his friends from graduate school, who presented a thirty-thousand dollar check, they all confirmed their attendance, too. Mavis Chennault, the director, hugged him for five minutes.
He avoided D&C. Not because he wasn’t wanted; Sandra Palmer advocated for him strongly in the last board meeting before the dinner. No, he needed Crystal to observe him in action. He wasn’t just good for her. He was a good nigga all around. Competent, confident, and the better pick. The only pick.
He cancelled the two meetings they would have had before the dinner, opting to only correspond through email. The gala planning was coming along, and Nick, though a bitch, was able to secure funds for the venue and required licenses and authorizations. Dame almost caved a week before, when Crystal batted her lashes at him as he walked toward his office.
Her lips were slightly parted. Longing drenched in her pretty dark browns. Dame knew her nipples were hard and tightening still, her legs pressed together.
His baby needed him. She missed him.
But he remained steadfast. With a simple nod, he turned back forward and strode into his office.
Of course, he beat his meat raw in his bathroom, but that was neither here nor there.
In all his years, Dame also knew that while sometimes necessary, most of the time, deviation from the plan would fuck him up on the backend. So he had to stay strong, for the both of them. This was more than getting pussy, or a workplace affair.
This was a matter of the heart. And matters of the heart had to be handled with a delicate touch.

****

Dame took a sip of his club soda as he scanned the table. Everyone from corporate came to the dinner he organized as Plateau, an upscale restaurant about a block away from the office.
They all walked over together, excited to try one of the overpriced entrees and rumored strong cocktails on the company’s dime. The host showed them to a long table toward the back of the dimly lit restaurant, and Dame, not for the first time, reminded them that they were off the clock, and this was a celebration for his one month on the job.
Mavis was the first to order a cocktail. Everyone soon followed.
An hour in, one of the Accounting bros toasted to the “best jefe ever.” Everyone cheered, except Nick, who grumbled over his second Hennessy sidecar.
By the second hour, almost everyone at the table was plastered. In fact, the only two people not indulging in alcohol at the dinner were Dame himself, and his future wife.
Crystal had ordered a lemonade with her steak. She’d only refilled it once, before sipping on ice water.
Throughout the dinner, she refused to meet Dame’s gaze. As everyone relaxed and began to talk loudly over one another, he let himself indulge. Her azure blue cardigan was wrapped tight around her, outlining her full breasts. Her hair was swept up in a messy high bun, showing off her neck and jaw.
Crystal Blue was a goddess.
“You comin’ out with us this weekend, Blue?” one of the Accounting bros asked from across the table. Dame caught little parts of their conversation; they were going to check out some lounge in West Kenton that had just opened. Dame had noticed pretty quickly that everyone in the office called Crystal by her last name. He considered doing the same, and even did so in passing. The way her brows crumbled almost made him laugh at the time.
“Nah, she ain’t going,” Nick replied for her. His tie was loosened around his neck, and he played with it as he leans backward, eyes rolling toward Crystal. His smirk was probably meant to be attractive, but with the four Hennessy sidecars he’d drunk during the dinner, he looked more slimy than anything.
“And why is that?” Beth asked, resting her head on her interlocked fingers. Dame knew Beth and Crystal were closer than coworkers; they ate lunch together every day, and according to the system logs on the company database, they spent hours messaging each other. 
Accounting worked closely with D&C, and everyone seemed like one big happy family. But drunk men tell no tales, which was why Dame knew he had to get everyone comfortable enough to see the real dynamics.
Thankfully, the other employees sat on the far end, engrossed in a conversation about an old tv show Dame was sure never made it past one season.
“Blue never comes out with us. You should come–”
“I said, no. She’s not invited.”
“You’re drunk,” Beth said, her tone lowered as she cut her eyes toward Dame.
But Nick just waved Beth off. “Blue knows that’s not her scene.”
“And what’s my ‘scene,’ Nick?” Crystal asked, tilting her head.
Nick shrugged haphazardly, while the Accounting bro snapped his fingers as if trying to recall pertinent information. When Nick not-so-subtlely shook his head, Crystal scoffed and scooted her chair back to stand.
“Thank you for dinner, Mr. Rockwell,” she said as she gathered her things, unable to look Dame in the eye. Beth stood to gather her things as well.
Crystal turned and shot Nick a look that made him wince.
“Nick; fuck you,” she hissed. The Accounting bros snickered as she and Beth stomped away. Nick stood and, with the one Dame guessed he was closest to, Ravi Patel, walked off toward the bathrooms.
The check had been paid before they sat down, so while conversation resumed on his side of the table, Dame slipped out of the restaurant.
Beth and Crystal stood by the valet, having a heated conversation. As Dame crept closer, he narrowed his eyes at Crystal holding a phone away from her.
“I told you, you don’t have to order my rideshare,” Beth slurred.
“Yes, I do. You don’t want me to take you home, so I’m ordering you one.”
“I’ll be fine–”
“Beth,” Dame interrupted, sidling up to Crystal. Both of the girls’ breath caught, as their eyes rounded at him.
“Keys.”
Holding his palm upward, he waited patiently as Beth dropped them in his hand. He heard a gasp when his fingers curled around them.
“I’ll follow you and Blue in your car, and then Blue will bring me back to the garage to my car.”
Both of them nodded lamely, earning a small smirk.
“Ladies,” he gestured for them to lead the way. Beth locked arms with Crystal, tugging her along the sidewalk ahead of him.
As much as he wanted to, Dame didn’t get lost in the sway of Crystal’s hips. Every so often, on the walk back to the Park Building garage, Beth would glance over her shoulder, whispering something into the crook of Crystal’s neck before giggling. Crystal would join in, too, while shooshing Beth, but Dame couldn’t hear. He was too busy trying to be a gentleman.
It was a moderate drive, but Dame was impressed at the townhouse Crystal led them to. Dame parked on the street, locking the doors before rounding the car and handing the keys to Beth.
Her grin was mischievous, her eyes low as she peered between Dame and Crystal.
“Take care of my girl,” she purred, before closing her front door on them.
Dame turned to Crystal, holding out his palm again. Without words, she handed him her keys, and allowed him to open her passenger door for her.
On the drive back to the garage, Dame took the scenic route, driving right at the speed limit.
The radio was off. The air blew mildly into the car. Crystal’s chest rose and deflated, her arms folded underneath her breasts, pushing them out.
“Are you okay, Blue?”
“Don’t call me that,” she whispered, glancing at him before returning her gaze to the windshield.
Dame licked his lips as his grip tightened on the steering wheel.
“What would you like me to call you?”
There were a few things Dame had in mind, but he was letting Crystal set the tone, at least for now.
“Crystal’s fine.”
The car became suffocating as they pulled up to a red light before the business district. Crystal hadn’t said another word, opting to bite at the skin of her lip. Growing impatient by the second, Dame decided to throw caution to the wind, but Crystal beat him to it.
“I’m seeing someone.”
Dame slowly turned to face her.
“Nick Spelling?” he asked, incredulity dripping in his voice. Them fucking is one thing; her claiming him is another.
Crystal’s head whipped to the side, her panicked gaze meeting his. “What–”
“You do know that goes against the Mission’s protocol?” he asked, arching a brow.
Her chest began to heave as she stammered through a denial, but her words died after he cracked a smile.
Dame dragged his gaze from her lap to her eyes and back again, briefly settling on her breasts. “I’m just kidding, Crystal. I don’t give a fuck about that.”
Dame let the double entendre of his words linger in the air as he pulled into the garage. Every car but his was gone already.
He parked Crystal’s car next  to his and turned off the ignition. Crystal was out before he could even open his door, rounding the car until she was in front of him.
“Thank you–for seeing to Beth. She’s so stubborn sometimes.”
“I usually can get people to do whatever I want, so,” he shrugged.
“Why do you do that?” she whispered, shaking her head and averting her eyes.
“Do what?”
“Say shit that sounds so…”
“Sounds like what?” Dame stepped into her space, making her gaze up at him. Her scent was sweet, remnants of her perfume and something uniquely her. Something he couldn’t wait to smell on his sheets.
“I have a boyfriend,” Crystal replied instead, this time with less conviction.
Dame lifted a corner of his mouth. “You already told me that, sweetheart. Now what did I tell you in response?”
“T-that… you don’t give a fuck?”
Dame opened the driver door for Crystal. “Good girl. Drive safely for me.”
Dazed, Crystal stepped into her car. She didn’t start her car until Dame closed her in tightly, and didn’t back out of her space until he tapped the roof of her car twice.
Briefly, he thought about following her home. But just as quickly, he talked himself out of it. If Nick was there waiting, he would have surely gone to jail, and his plan would be over before he could put it into motion.
Instead, he got into his own car, turned the ignition over, and texted his son that he’d finally found him a stepmother as he waited for his car to warm up.