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  Copyright

  A Hard Day's Work

  About the author

  Other Harper Bliss books

  HARPER BLISS

  A HARD DAY’S WORK

  Copyright © Harper Bliss 2013

  Cover picture © Depositphotos / Konrad Bak

  Published by LadyLit Ltd - Hong Kong

  ISBN 978-988-12280-0-0

  All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorised duplication is prohibited.

  Warning: This title contains graphic language and f/f sex.

  www.harperbliss.com

  www.ladylit.com

  Other books by Harper Bliss

  Hired Help

  The Honeymoon

  Learning Curve

  Summer Heat

  Younger Than Yesterday

  Can’t Get Enough

  Girls Only (Volume One)

  Girls Only (Volume Two)

  High Rise

  Anything She Wants

  A Hard Day’s Work

  “Female bosses are the worst,” Ann says before carefully allowing a tiny lettuce leaf into her mouth. She chews it as if eating is a forbidden activity.

  “I disagree.” Kenneth draws his lips into that leery look I despise. He fixes his gaze on me. His eyes are the colour of weak tea. “I’m sure Jo and I are on the same page.”

  After I first told him I’m exclusively into women, he didn’t know what to do with that information for a few weeks. He would stare at me in silence for minutes and shake his head in disbelief, as if he couldn’t figure out the physical practicalities of two women in bed together. I much preferred his ignorance over the delusional camaraderie he now believes we share.

  I take a big bite out of my sandwich because I refuse to acknowledge Kenneth’s insinuation. Ann arches up her eyebrows and shoots me a quizzical look. Silence is not going to get me off the hook this time.

  I chew slowly, making sure she understands how much tastier my cheese sandwich is than her salad without dressing.

  “Amanda has some issues.” For starters, she’s straight, I say only to myself. “But I’ve seen worse.” I know that by stating this I’m essentially siding with Kenneth, but I can’t agree with Ann on this one.

  “Shht,” Kenneth says before I can continue. “She’s coming.” He sits up straight in his chair, all but adjusting his tie.

  “Hey team.” Clearly, one of Amanda’s issues is that she addresses us as team, as if we’re taking part in a self-improvement seminar. “Do you mind if I join?”

  “Of course not,” Ann is quick to say. The fake smile on her face hurts my eyes.

  Amanda unpacks her green salad. I spot a few drops of dressing. At least Ann is winning that particular battle.

  “You ladies should eat more.” Kenneth shuffles in his seat. Unlike him, I can keep my cool in Amanda’s presence. “If that were my lunch,” he points at Ann and Amanda’s flimsy salads, “I’d pass out after three.”

  Amanda zones in on his pastrami sandwich. I detect a glimmer of disgust in her eyes, but I can’t be sure. I might just be projecting. “After you’re finished with that, you should have enough energy to finish the Haynes report I’ve been waiting for.”

  I catch a glimpse of Ann’s triumphant grin before she stretches her mouth into a semi-indifferent pout again.

  Kenneth’s cheeks flush the tell-tale crimson red they always do when Amanda chastises him.

  “Did you have a nice weekend, Amanda?” I quickly change the subject because I can’t help but feel sorry for him. I also want to grab the opportunity to find out more about Amanda’s personal life.

  “Doug was away so I came into the office on Saturday to catch up on e-mails.” She pauses to check if she has our full attention. Amanda likes it that way. “And yesterday I ran a half-marathon.”

  Silence ensues. It’s a hard one to follow. I know Ann has been training for the company’s annual 5K race taking place in two months. Kenneth—despite his love for unhealthy food—is so skinny his body seems only made up of flesh and bone with no room for fat or muscle tissue.

  “How about you, Jo? Did you paint the town red?” Amanda’s green eyes rest on me.

  I don’t know how I got the reputation of being a party animal. Maybe it’s because I’m the youngest on the team, or because I’m single—or because I’m a lesbian. “My doubles partner and I got severely beaten in our tennis club’s championship.”

  “Oh, I didn’t know you played.” Amanda’s face lights up. It’s common knowledge her two great loves in life—apart from work—are running and tennis. “Which club do you belong to?”

  “Hennessy’s. It’s in Surrey.” I only joined a month ago. I’m more a martial arts kind of person, but it was a strategic decision which is paying off already. I can practically feel Ann roll her eyes behind my back. I expect her to give me the cold shoulder for at least a day as punishment for fraternising with the enemy.

  “We should—” The loud ring of her cellphone interrupts Amanda. “I’m sorry, I have to take this.”

  Uninterested in what’s left of my sandwich, I lean back in my chair. Amanda rises from her seat and, as if it was only her in the break room, turns on her heels and leaves.

  “Tennis, huh?” Ann shoves a dry stick of celery into her mouth. “That’s a new one.”

  “What can I say,” I joke. “I’m a woman of many talents.”

  “Is that what it’s called these days?” A vacant look—the one he gets whenever Amanda leaves the room—has taken over Kenneth’s face.

  “Just because she has a non-existent personal life, doesn’t mean she has to sit here and declare how dedicated to her job she is. If I had a husband who’s never around and no children, I’d have time to catch up on e-mails in the weekend as well.” Ann’s too busy being pissed at Amanda to direct more of her frustration at me.

  Kenneth rolls the tin foil his lunch was packed in into a ball and tries to fling it in the waste basket in the corner. He misses. Without saying a word, he gets up and leaves.

  “How’s that 5K coming along, Ann?” I can’t keep a mild sneer out of my voice.

  “Just fine.” She shoots up out of her chair and crosses to the sink to rinse off the plastic container her salad came in.

  I wait until she leaves to close the lunch box Amanda carelessly left on the table. I put it in the fridge while humming the Happy Days theme tune.

  * * *

  Every day, at five on the dot, Ann and Kenneth rise from their desk and finish their work day. They have spouses to consider and children who need to be fed before bed. I usually linger on in the office the three of us share, enjoying the solitude and silence their absence brings. It also allows me the opportunity, every time I hear Amanda’s footsteps clatter on the hallway floor outside, to imagine she’ll walk in and say, “At last, they’ve gone,” before hurling herself at me.

  But Amanda is straight and she’s my boss. I can pretend to play tennis all I want, she’ll never be interested in me that way. It doesn’t stop me from dreaming.

  “You’re on your own, Jo,” Kenneth says and closes the door of our office behind him.

  “Leave it open,” I yell behind him—just like every night—but he lets it bang shut with the most annoying thud possible.

  I push myself out of my chair but my toes catch behind the foot of my desk. My hip crashes into it, sending a half-empty coffee cup to the floor, its tepid contents spilling over my sweater.

  “Fuck,” I scream at no one but myself. I quickly grab a tissue from the box on Ann’s desk and try to stop the stain from soaking all the way into the
delicate fabric of my sweater. It doesn’t help so I dash out of the office to the break room, which is closer than the wash room. I hoist my sweater over my head before yanking a tea towel off its hook and dousing it in water.

  Engrossed in removing the stain from my sweater, I don’t hear the footsteps approach from behind.

  “Is it casual Friday already?” Amanda’s voice beams.

  Thank god I’m wearing a tank top, I think as I turn around. To my surprise, Amanda’s eyes appear glued to my arms. Countless upper cuts and hooks a week haven’t missed their effect.

  “I didn’t finish my lunch,” she mumbles, completely out of character.

  While she hides behind the refrigerator door, I stifle a chuckle. Instead of cursing Kenneth and his stupid game of slamming the door shut every night, I secretly thank him for landing me in this situation.

  When Amanda re-emerges she has put herself together again. “You must have quite a serve with biceps like that.”

  This time, I’m the one nearly blushing. “I get by.”

  “What happened?” She nods in the direction of my sweater.

  “Office clumsiness.” Flustered, I hold my palms up, dropping the tea towel to the floor. It really isn’t my day.

  She scoots closer and crouches down to pick it up. As she hands it back to me, the tips of our fingers lightly touch. She redirects her attention to my sweater.

  “You may want to use some vinegar on that when you get home.” I hadn’t pegged her for someone with detailed knowledge on removing stains. “Doug is terribly clumsy. It seems all I do is run after him and clean up his mess.”

  The mention of her husband’s name zaps me back into reality. I doubt Amanda is the sort of woman who does a lot of running around for her husband—the mysterious Doug whose name gets dropped occasionally, but who never shows up for office parties or other work-related social events. I want to quiz her about him, but the circumstances don’t strike me as ideal. It’s also none of my business.

  “Thanks for the tip.” I smile and glance at my sweater, which I fear might now be ruined.

  “Here’s another one,” she says as she heads for the door. “You should wear short sleeves more often.”

  I have to keep my jaw from dropping. If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear she was flirting.

  * * *

  “Happy three months, Jo,” Kenneth says. “Looks like you’re a keeper.”

  “Don’t speak too soon,” Ann butts in. “She hasn’t had the talk yet.”

  It’s Friday morning and I’ve been officially employed by the company for three months, thus ending my trial period.

  “You’d best hope she’s in a good mood today. I remember my first performance review and, well, let’s just say it’s not the fondest of my many happy memories of this place.” Ann feverishly tries to untangle a bunch of paperclips. “And not because I was performing below par, mind you. Just because—”

  “Yes, Ann, we know already,” Kenneth cuts her off. “Because you’re a woman. Blah blah blah.”

  “She wasn’t horrible to you though, was she?” Ann tosses the paperclips to the side. “Because she’s not threatened by you. It’s so classic.”

  I stop listening because, in the three months that I’ve shared an office with them, I’ve heard it all a million times. Ann and Kenneth love to bicker, but strangely enough, they work well together. I suspect they keep the quarrelling going because they fear it may affect their performance if they stop.

  A knock on the frame of our open door interrupts their current spat.

  “My office in five minutes, Jo?” I instantly notice Amanda is wearing a different shade of lipstick. It’s redder than usual, making her lips look fuller—and more attractive to chew.

  “You got it, boss.” I shoot her what I think is a confident smile.

  She disappears into the hallway and I’m left counting down the seconds.

  “Good luck,” Ann says when I get up four minutes later.

  “She doesn’t need it.” Kenneth winks at me and it almost moves me.

  It’s Friday so I’m dressed casually in a pair of dark, tight jeans and a sleeveless blouse. I make sure the blouse is neatly tucked into my trousers before knocking on Amanda’s door.

  “Come in.” The different versions of this scenario that have played in my head are countless, but they always ended up with both of us half-naked on the floor. “Close the door behind you and take a seat.”

  I’ve never had any reason to believe Amanda hates the other women on her team. Most of the rivalry between her and Ann takes place solely in Ann’s head, just as Kenneth’s firm belief that Amanda has a soft spot for him is merely a figment of his imagination.

  I sit down in the chair opposite Amanda’s desk. She glances at a sheet of paper in her hands. I stop myself from tapping my fingers on the arm rest of the chair, but I can’t consciously slow down the mad pitter-patter of my heart.

  Amanda is wearing a tight black blouse today—one of my favourites on her. It’s open at the throat and it’s hard to keep my eyes off the exquisite hollow of her neck.

  “I only have one question for you.” Amanda leans back in her plush leather chair. It’s as if I can feel her glance move over the skin of my arms. She shoots me a quick smile before continuing. Moments alone with Amanda are so rare—I can count the times I’ve been alone with her in her office behind a closed door on the fingers of one hand—and the situation makes my stomach knot. I shuffle in my seat, expecting a query on why I handled a case a certain way or how I feel I fit into the team. “Why are you single?”

  Her question has the effect of a bolt of lightning connecting between my legs. Amanda looks at me as if she just asked me how I feel about the endless rain we’ve been having this summer.

  “W-why?” I stammer, sufficiently taken aback. The cool I always prided myself on keeping in her presence quickly slips away. I may even feel a blush creeping up my cheeks. “I mean, erm, why do you want to know?”

  “It’s not a trick question, Jo. I was single when I was your age, but I had ulterior motives. I worked late to impress the higher-ups, always making sure I exceeded my monthly targets by at least fifty percent.” She brings her fingers to her neck, as if wanting to fiddle with a necklace that’s not there. “I’m just curious about your motivation and ambition.” Her smile shifts from neutral to flirtatious, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip.

  I may be young but I recognise a come-on when I see one. If she hadn’t painted on that seductive grin I might have believed her question was born from pure professional curiosity, but her eyes have lingered on my arms a few seconds too long and her smile grows even wider.

  “You’ve made it abundantly clear you don’t believe in a work system that focuses on reaching targets alone.” I’m not sure how to play this so I decide to stick to a semi-professional angle for now. “And I don’t believe that working hard should exclude one from having a fulfilling personal life.” I channel my taekwondo teacher Stan’s mantra. “Everything in life is about balance.”

  “So,” Amanda leans forward, placing her elbows on the surface of her desk. A whiff of her perfume enters my nose. I have no idea which brand it is because I’m not the kind of girl who has a working knowledge of things like that, but I do enjoy the smell of it very much. She clasps her hands together and intertwines her fingers. “You’re not single out of ambition. That’s good.” She draws her mouth into an indecipherable pout. “Life’s too short for that, trust me.”

  This is my first proper job so I don’t have any experience with performance reviews but I’m fairly certain this is not how they usually go. I notice a slight hesitation in her eyes before she continues.

  “But seriously, Jo. How can you be single with arms like that?” She cocks her head to the left a bit and curls her lips into a silly grin.

  And then it hits me. She’s giving me an opening to flirt with her. This is as much a performance review as it is an audience with the pope. In front of
me sits a woman on the prowl—and I haven’t even had my morning coffee yet. I feel all the power shift to me in that moment. The energy in the room changes and I have my confidence back. Amanda is too smart to come on to me too ostentatiously. Or maybe she just has a bicep fetish.

  “I spend too much time doing push-ups, I guess.” Stan makes me do a hundred regular ones before every training and a hundred with elevated feet after. “Not enough time in clubs.” I make sure to flex my biceps when I say it. I can’t help but wonder if I’m such a dead giveaway when it comes to crushes or if Amanda’s just going out on a limb. I do know for a fact that my push-up statement will impress her.

  “I’m certainly glad you took my advice on office attire.”

  Another opening. Am I supposed to ask her out? What about her husband? And the small detail that she’s my boss? Maybe I should challenge her to a game of tennis, but then she’ll soon notice I’m as much a novice on the court as I am at office flirting.

  “What are you doing after work?” I may never get a chance like this again and I can’t let it pass. As Amanda just reminded me, life’s too short for that.

  “Going for a run.” Her chin rests on her hands. “Want to come?”

  I nod. My throat has gone too dry for speaking—as if all the moisture in my body is suddenly occupied elsewhere.

  “Good.” She slants back into her chair. “Now about your first three months with us.” Her eyes narrow to slits as she focuses her attention on the sheet of paper she was holding when I first entered her office. “Excellent work. HR will have you sign some papers. I sincerely hope you’ll stay with the company a very long time.” Her face is drawn into a mask of professionalism but her eyes sparkle with mischief. “That’s it.” She taps a key on her keyboard to wake up her computer. “Close the door on your way out, please. I need some privacy this morning.”

  I’m not sure my legs will hold me when I get up. My core seems molten and a wild pulse throbs in every cell of my body. The fantasies I indulged in before this meeting suddenly seem nothing compared to what really happened.