Play It Again

BY : Play-It-Again
Category: Misc Books > General
Dragon prints: 1053
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction! I do not know Chris Brown or own any rights to Play or any of its characters. I do not profit from these writings.

Dear God, he had a brother, and not just any brother, but the holy grail of siblings. The golden specimen standing before me was tall, but not too tall, leanly muscled and chiseled all over; from his cheekbones right down to that special little v that led straight to . . . I could feel the heat infuse my cheeks at the thought of where that v led. I shouldn’t have known that many personal details about a man whom I just met. But everyone, at least everyone with a vagina, knew the intimate details of this man’s tight body. He was a freak’n model for God’s sake. His Calvin Klein underwear ad hung right outside the window of my favorite lunch spot. Hell, the only reason I ate at that greasy spoon was because of the view. Come to think about it, this beautiful man was largely responsible for all the wiggle and jiggle action going on below my boobs.

“So is he in?”

“Huh?”

“Jack. Is he here?”

Jack? Oh crap, Jack, I mean Mr. Grant, my boss, his brother. I scrambled to sit up higher in my chair. Apparently, I had been in the middle of melting into the floor. “Oh, of course,” I mumbled. I tried not to look at the Greek god standing on the other side of my desk while I called into my boss’s office, but it was impossible to look away from the light.

“What is it, Kara?” Mr. Grant barked into the other end of the phone.

“He’s here. I mean, your brother’s here. Chris, that is, Mr. Black, is here to see you.” I blame my lack of eloquence on Chris. The grin he was sporting said, “I bet you wish you’d brought an extra pair of panties to work today,” with a side of “don’t worry, I like the smell of a woman in heat.” I hated that cocky grin. It was the same damn look that always got me in trouble. Chris was not my type. He wasn’t. Absolutely not. He was gorgeous. I liked to look at gorgeous but I had a strict no touching policy. If I touched, I’d be done for; the addiction cemented. And if I know anything about gorgeous, it’s that it’s always accompanied by conceit and philandering ways.

I scowled to indicate that my panties were perfectly fine, thank you very much, but Chris turned at the sound of my boss’s door opening and I found myself glaring at his blonde ponytail. I didn’t like men with long, curly, golden hair. Nope, not a turn-on at all. The fluttery feeling in my chest must have been indigestion.

“Chris,” Mr. Grant nodded in his direction. I was instantly reminded of the other reason Chris wasn’t my type. I was already crushing hard on his equally sexy brother.
My boss was bound to notice me, eventually. I just had to hold firm in that conviction and not be swayed from my undying passion by another pretty face. Granted, all my attempts to gain his attention thus far had been a dismal failure. He hadn’t even twitched an eye muscle when I showed up to work as a blonde. I might as well have thrown that three hundred bucks down the toilet. Not to mention that I now sported two toned locks because getting rid of platinum blonde hair when you’re a dark brunette is a bit of a bitch. When my roots became obvious, the furrow between Jack’s eyes got deeper every time he looked at me. In response I started to keep my long hair in a tight bun at the nape of my neck. Ooh, now that’s sexy. The leopard print horn-rimmed glasses I briefly sported were a no go as well. They disappeared from my desk at lunchtime the first day I wore them. Another total waste of money. Why anyone would steal my cat-woman inspired glasses is still a mystery. Losing fifteen pounds only served to make me cranky as all hell and, having gotten no reaction from the boss man, I gained twenty back within two months. Of course, my new lunchtime companion, who happened to be plastered to the wall outside the greasiest burger joint in town, didn’t help.

Chris sauntered over to his brother and held out his hand for a shake. “It’s good to see you, Jack.”

Jack nodded again in acknowledgment of the statement. I couldn’t tell if he was happy to see his brother. He was scowling, but that was nothing new. Mr. Grant showed emotion on a scale of mildly annoyed to thoroughly pissed off. I thought his face would be a good representation for emergency room pain scales. They could replace the frowny face emoticons with Jack’s daily expressions. Why I relentlessly lusted after a man with a scowl permanently etched on his face was the second question I was going to ask my therapist as soon as I could afford one. We’d discuss it right after we delved into my insistence on wearing low cut jeans that made my slightly doughy middle look like a post pregnancy horror film prosthetic.

At the moment Mr. Grant was sporting about a four on the frowny face pain scale, so I’d say he was somewhat indifferent regarding the sudden appearance of a sibling whom I didn’t even know existed until three minutes ago. The two men disappeared into Grant’s office as I ruminated on that. I’d been the man’s secretary for two years and I didn’t even know he had a brother, or a half-brother, since they didn’t share the same last name. All right, so I barely even knew how Mr. Grant took his coffee. He held onto the most mundane details of his life like they were state secrets. The day I had to pick up a replacement dress shirt for him after a coffee spill incident, he looked like he was in agony when offering up his measurements. Seriously, his face was a ten on the hospital pain scale. Of course, that may have had something to do with the scalding liquid I’d poured down the front of him when I’d tripped over the table in his office.

I was wound too tight to finish the letters that needed to go out that afternoon. I just decided that a quick trip to the snack machine on the first floor was what I needed to refocus my brain, when the brothers emerged from Grant’s lair. I stopped in surprise half out of my chair, my legs wide to support me, when they appeared. Once stopped I couldn’t regain the moment to rise without grabbing hold of my desk and pulling. Just great, I likely looked like I was squatting in preparation to pee. Mr. Grant’s eyebrows raised in golden arches at the sight of me. It reminded me of my fast food guilty pleasure. Okay, now I was hungry. Forget the snack machine, I needed a burger.

I glanced at the clock on my computer and was relieved to see it was 12:30. “I was just heading out to grab lunch.”

“First, come with us. You can get something to eat on your way back,” said Mr. Grant as he blew by my desk towards the elevators. I looked to his brother for an explanation but he just shrugged, winked, and strolled towards the bank of elevators like he didn’t have a care in the world. I stuffed a pad of paper and pen in my oversized purse before taking off after them.

When I joined them at the elevator, Mr. Grant shoved a portfolio filled with papers in my hands. “We’ll need these.” He then looked at my large, overstuffed purse with disdain. “I don’t imagine your laptop is in there.”

“Ah, no,” I said, fighting the blush that I knew was darkening my cheeks.

My boss just raised an eyebrow and waited.

“Oh, okay, I’ll go get it.” I jog, skip, lurched my way back to my desk as I tried to move quickly in my three inch heels while balancing my massive purse and the overflowing portfolio. I undocked my laptop without turning it off and threw it in its bag. The journey back to the men was even more awkward with the addition of the laptop bag. I tried to counterbalance my purse by carrying the laptop with my other arm, but both bags just slipped off my shoulders and landed in the crook of my elbows. The only way to avoid getting hit in the shins with every step was to adopt a slow waddle.

When I got back to the elevators Mr. Grant was facing the shiny doors, studiously ignoring my ignominious return trip. Chris was openly staring with a big grin on his face. Before I could put my purse to good use by smacking Chris in that cocky, smirking face of his, the elevator door opened. Mr. Grant entered without a backward glance. Chris stood aside and gestured for me to go ahead. I shuffled in, still on the verge of dropping everything. As soon as the doors closed I felt a light pull on my arm that caused me to startle. I looked to my right to see Chris easing the laptop bag off my arm. He then reached over and took the portfolio. I was just starting to reconsider my opinion of him when he winked, waggled his golden brows lasciviously at me and then turned away before I could respond. Damn him.



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