Chapter 19

“Are you sure I don’t look too disheveled?” Jules asked, looking at herself in the mirror in the visor. We went far beyond the allotted time of our lunch break - almost two hours.

“I think you’re okay,” I assured her.

After we had sex, we had to rush, so we both jumped in the shower. Her hair was repaired easily enough since she had short hair, and the girls had a blow dryer in their bathroom. Makeup was another story.

In her purse, she apparently had foundation, mascara, eyeliner, blush and lipstick, but no brushes. Without those items, her makeup application “looked amateurish and uneven” according to her.

I thought she looked great. Her face didn’t need any fixing at all! But she begged to differ.

“My skin tone is different here,” she explained as she applied more powder under her chin and above her cleavage.

I noticed that and laughed. “Did you just put makeup on your cleavage?”

“Yes!” Jules exclaimed with a giggle.

“Is that normal!?” I asked with incredulity.

“Um, Yes,” she responded, her tone confused by my question. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I’ve never heard of such a thing,” I stated flatly.

Jules shrugged. “Well, I guess I shouldn’t expect you to have either. Guys have no idea how much shit we go through to look good.”

“I just had no idea cleavage makeup was a thing,” I said.

She looked at me and teased, “I’m sure your daughters have plenty of experience with it.”

Her comment sent a shockwave of heat rushing between my legs again as I had the thought of my daughters’ cleavage.

“No way they use cleavage makeup,” I joked nervously.

Jules smirked at me. “Sure they do.”

I was still shocked at the concept. “Why?”

“I use foundation to match my face, and contour a bit so like the tops of my breasts, like on each side of my cleavage, have like a shadow if that makes sense. Makes them appear perkier and commands more attention. Plus I’ll put on glitter sometimes too.”

“Oh shit, I have noticed that!” I exclaimed. “You really use glitter?”

Jules nodded confidently. “Yeah, glitter. People like to look at shiny things.”

“And you think my daughters do that?”

“Absolutely.” Jules grinned mischievously.

“Those two need no additional cleavage enhancing tricks,” I scoffed.

Jules rolled her eyes playfully. “I don’t either, but a little subtle sparkle and shadowing won’t hurt anyone. They already have gorgeous bodies, why hide them? I know they’re young, but there’s nothing wrong with being proud of your body.”

“And they certainly are that,” I chuckled, shaking my head. I tried to balance my private filthy thoughts with the fact that I needed to appear innocently fatherly.

“How could they not?! When I met them yesterday, I couldn’t believe how beautiful they were,” Jules added enthusiastically.

“They really are stunning,” I agreed sincerely.

“And their personalities ... so sweet. You’re lucky to have them as daughters.”

“Yes, definitely,” I smiled.

The conversation continued to focus on my daughters, which only fueled my conflicted thoughts.

“So tell me, how do you deal with the girls constant teasing about their boobs?” Jules asked curiously.

“What do you mean?” I asked nervously.

“You know what I mean,” she laughed. “I know I only met them for that short time, but they tease you mercilessly and you told me yourself that they parade around your house with their cleavage hanging out, right?”

I paused and then admitted, “Oh yeah. They do.”

“And you told me they do it deliberately to get your attention. How do you handle that situation?” she pressed.

It took some effort to control myself, but I managed. “Uh...” I began slowly. “ ... I just give in sometimes. It’s easier. As opposed to arguing.”

Jules raised one eyebrow quizzically. “Really?”

I nodded. “Sometimes it’s hard to say ‘no’, especially when they’re wearing something tight or low cut. And essentially shake their tits in my face.”

“I still can’t believe they kept saying over and over how big your dick is,” she said with a shocked smile.

“I can’t either! They’ve never said things like that to anyone! Teasing me about it is one thing, but when they commented on it in front of you, I was fucking mortified. That wasn’t cool at all.”

“Yeah, I was pretty shocked,” Jules admitted. “But it was funny, too.”

I snorted in disbelief at her comment. “Funny!? No way! I’m sticking with ‘mortified’.”

“Of course it was funny,” she insisted. “I can see why they tease you because you get so embarrassed about it.”

“That’s ridiculous,” I argued. “They knew better than to bring up my cock in front of somebody else. They should have known I’d freak out and blow my top.”

“That’s exactly why they did it!” she reasoned. They probably also did it because I was there. Plus, you didn’t seem mad about it at all. In fact, you seemed kinda turned on by it.”

She wasn’t wrong. But I shook my head adamantly and replied defensively, “Not true! Not true at all. What gives them the right to talk about my cock like that? Especially in front of someone else!”

“Who cares? It was funny. Besides, nobody knows except me anyway, right?” Jules giggled.

“I guess,” I shrugged.

“And we had just gotten done having sex, so it was obvious I had an opinion of it?” She winked.

“Maybe they were just trying to figure out if you liked it,” I offered.

Jules tilted her head slightly as she considered the question. She pursed her lips together as she pondered the possibilities. Then finally, she answered, “Hmm, maybe. Or it could be that they wanted to see how far they can push Daddy without getting in trouble,” she teased.

I shook my head. I was still conflicted enough about all of this. “Let’s just drop it, ok?”

Jules sighed in disappointment. “Fine, fine,” she conceded reluctantly. We sat in silence for several seconds before she spoke again.

“They totally put makeup on their cleavage though.”

I facepalmed. “Jesus Christ...”

“She’s here,” Jules whispered as she peeked around the corner into my office.

“Oh yeah?” I responded nonchalantly.

“Yep, she came into the building about 15 minutes ago. That bitch Karen sent me a text asking me to come down and meet her to show her around. Said she has more questions.”

“More questions?” I repeated skeptically. “About what?”

“Well, I don’t know yet,” she grinned mischievously. “Apparently, Jillian wants me to go over some stuff with her.”

I looked at her crookedly. “I don’t want this to come off as fucked up, but why you?”

Jules seemed shocked by my statement. “Why me?” she asked incredulously. “What do you mean?”

“It’s just...” I began, regretting what I said. “Um, I just ... you’re the most inexperienced employee in this place. That’s, uh ... What I...”

“ ... you don’t need to explain yourself,” she interrupted gently. “I understand completely.”

That made me relax. “I just ... Who was going to be her supervisor anyway?”

Jules shrugged. “Nobody really. I mean, yeah, when I was an intern, I technically reported straight to Mr. DeLuca. But he obviously never comes around. He signed my intern paperwork though.”

“Via e-signature,” I said flatly.

“Via e-signature,” she repeated. She had never met Mr. DeLuca face to face.

The chain of command in this place was ... Weird. We’re a small company - nothing like Pearson or McGraw Hill or anything - specializing in publishing dissertations for local doctoral candidates, and on a national level, publishing books by college professors, since pretty much every liberal arts professor in the entire country has requirements to publish academic works. Anyway, DeLuca Press is a niche business that requires very little overhead. Since the pandemic, a bulk of our employees now work remotely, and Mr. DeLuca was included in that list. I haven’t laid eyes on the man in like three years either. Everything is always via Zoom with him while he travels, and he’s essentially semi retired at this point.

So as a result, us managers essentially run our own divisions as if it was our own little businesses. The company has five divisions: Student publishing (dissertations), Academic Publishing (books by college faculty), digital publishing (like multimedia and online resources), the editorial services division (which does technical editing of work from the three other divisions), and printing. I’m responsible for the editorial side of things.

Jules works in academic publishing doing mostly graphic design and personal assistant type stuff to her boss, Chester Jacobs. Even though the personal assistant shit isn’t her job. Hence why she referred to our receptionist as “that bitch Karen.” (Yes, her name was appropriately Karen).

Anyway, I was very curious how Jillian was going to work in the organization.

“You were part of the interview team,” I pointed out. “You don’t know what division she’ll be in?”

“They just asked me to join since I was the most recent intern. I evaluated and all, but I was mostly there to ask her a pre-written question and give advice based on my experience working here.”

I nodded. “Makes sense.”

“When I was an intern, I didn’t report directly to anyone either,” she continued. “But I did get assigned to one specific project manager who oversaw my internship duties.”

I shook my head. “Chester? That motherfucker,” I joked. “He poached you before I could get my hands on you.”

“And do technical editing for you? No thank you!” she laughed. “The only thing I want to do for you is suck your cock.”

It doesn’t matter how many times I’ve fucked her, and the fact that we just “made love” in a mind blowing way, when she said things like that, my dick swelled instantly.

“It’s definitely for the best that you don’t work for me. You’re not on my flow chart, so we can get away with whatever we want.”

“What. Ever. We. Want.” She smiled back at me knowingly.

We simply stared at each other from several feet away. There were people around, so we couldn’t do anything at that moment, but our eyes were locked, and we started giggling uncontrollably at each other. Eventually, we broke eye contact and walked quickly toward the elevators.

“Let’s go meet her,” she broke the silence.

Our elevator ride was short, only two floors. But once we got inside, we immediately made out. Her soft, tasty lips melted against mine as we pressed ourselves close together. Our tongues danced passionately as our hands roamed freely over each others bodies.

Short. Passionate. Needy. And ending just as quickly. The doors opened to our reception area. We saw Karen, Jules’ mortal fucking enemy.

Long story short, Jules ended up doing some of Karen’s job setting up travel for her boss, Chester, even though it wasn’t her responsibility. It was Karen’s.

However, long story long, Karen is kind of a bitch on wheels who had been here for over 25 years and was Mr. DeLuca’s personal assistant for years when he was more involved in day-to-day operations. So she has a bit of a passive aggressive diva complex. She’s his eyes and ears around here (or she says she is). Even though she’s technically at the bottom of the organizational chart, she acts as if she’s the boss around here. She’s the one that actually quality controls our lunch breaks. It’s not her job, but nobody questions her because nobody wants to deal with her nonsense.

The only reason we didn’t get in trouble after our lunch break ran delightfully long was because I had a back door key as one of the managers.

Yes, we literally snuck in because I was scared of the receptionist.

Anyway, Karen was there behind the front desk, and she and Jules traded silent fuck-you-cunt glares before we saw Jillian sitting on a chair looking at her phone, waiting for Jules to meet her and show her around.

Jillian was dressed conservatively, nothing like she dressed in her Instagram.

Her top really downplayed her chest - she was wearing a loose black button up shirt with rolled sleeves. The bottom few inches of tattoos of snakes were visible peeking under the rolled sleeves, which was pretty hot.

Her pants matched the color of her shirt and came down to her boots. She wore a thin gold chain around her neck. My eyes lingered on her de-emphasized chest, seizing on the subtle gap between her buttons that her chest produced.

“Jillian?” Jules said, breaking her out of her trance.

Jillian looked up from her phone and grabbed her stylish bag. She was clearly nervous ... The personality she conveyed on social media was completely different than the one I saw today. She seemed timid and shy.

Jules stretched her arm out to shake Jillian’s hand. “Hi! I’m Jules. It’s great to see you again!” Jules paused for a moment, looking Jillian up and down.

“I love your boots! Are those UGGs?” Jules asked, flashing her trademark smile.

“Thanks, yeah they are,” Jillian replied nervously. “I got them in London last winter.

“London?” Jules asked, surprised. “That sounds awesome! I was just going to assume you got them at Kohl’s or something...”

“Well, no, actually, there’s an UGG store at the Piccadilly Circus in London,” Jillian explained excitedly, smiling broadly now. “They’re my good luck charm.”

Jules smiled at Jillian warmly and nodded enthusiastically. “Wow, cool! I have black UGGs too, but these look much better on you.”

“Oh thanks! Maybe we should go shopping sometime? You should bring your boyfriend or husband or whatever,” Jillian offered, laughing.

“Not married,” Jules smiled. “Just dating someone seriously right now is about all.” Jules covertly glanced at me.

Jillian definitely seemed more relaxed after that initial exchange, and Jules took this opportunity to introduce me. “This is Drew. He works with me and he’s a senior editor. He heads, well, the editorial services division.”

I extended my hand. “Nice to meet you, Jillian. I’ve already heard great things about you.” Her hand was soft, her grip firm. And she smelled wonderful. Like vanilla. Or maybe lavender. Whatever it was, I found it super attractive.

“Thank you, sir,” Jillian giggled.

After shaking hands, Jules led us back to the elevator. “So you’ve met Karen,” Jules began. I could tell she was trying to hide her derision. “Upstairs are where most of our teams are based. Mr. DeLuca is our boss, as you know, but he’s always remote. So I think you’re going to start with a zoom call with him.”