Post by Shelby on Jan 21, 2017 23:14:08 GMT
"Then don't breathe on me the wrong way and I won't have to kill you; that's disgusting! Or, you know, just about anything stupid you do gets me angry, which is a lot of things. So it's only your fault. Can't blame me for wanting to call you out on your bullshit and yell at you for everything wrong you do." Of course, the majority of that still fell into the category of her just wanting to piss him off so that he'd ravish her, and she wondered if he'd think about that in his drunken mind. It was probably best not to think about that, Chardonnay supposed. Especially to not think about the way he looked when flustered, bothered, and aroused. And he still wasn't wrong about the whole kissing thing; she just wished that he hadn't been well enough to think, or remember, that. "Not like you're not easy to shut up. All I have to do is stick a hand up your shirt and you're turning into a puddle of water--moaning and groaning with your face red." What was it she said about not thinking about that?
She shook her head and turned to look at the door as it opened; Heather stuck her head in through the crack and gave her a small smile. "Everything okay? Feeling any better?" She asked, stepping into the office and closing the door. Chardonnay set her phone on the desk, a little too quickly so as not to be caught texting on the job, but from the way Heather looked she could only surmise that she had been caught. Shit.
Chardonnay cleared her throat and willed away the tint of red running across her cheeks. "I'm fine. Just a little queasy is all; you don't have to come check on me." Heather shrugged and said that she was just curious and that some of the staff were a little worried, something that made Chardonnay's face tick. "I'm fine, and you can tell them to stop worrying about me. They need to worry about their job." Heather muttered a small 'right' and then headed out the office, closing the door behind her. It took a moment before Chardonnay looked back at her phone, her body now tense. The description of the throw pillow was enough to make her gag--literally--and she cringed at the thought of his sleeping arrangement. As much as she thought about telling him to take a cab to her place, she decided against it. No need to look like she cared--because she didn't--and besides, that was his own problem. He wasn't the pregnant one. "Don't say those things when I've got a sick stomach, asshole! I don't need to those images or thought--God, that's what you get for going there and getting drunk. Lie in the mess you have to sleep in. It's your fault."
She paused and looked back out the window to where she could see the staff, thinking back to what Heather said, feeling her brows twitch and her lips purse. "Look, I need to get back to work," she texted back to Arthur after her assessment. "I can't keep texting on the job. I am the owner after all and need to lead by example. Have fun sleeping on the shit pillow with the shit people around you."
She shook her head and turned to look at the door as it opened; Heather stuck her head in through the crack and gave her a small smile. "Everything okay? Feeling any better?" She asked, stepping into the office and closing the door. Chardonnay set her phone on the desk, a little too quickly so as not to be caught texting on the job, but from the way Heather looked she could only surmise that she had been caught. Shit.
Chardonnay cleared her throat and willed away the tint of red running across her cheeks. "I'm fine. Just a little queasy is all; you don't have to come check on me." Heather shrugged and said that she was just curious and that some of the staff were a little worried, something that made Chardonnay's face tick. "I'm fine, and you can tell them to stop worrying about me. They need to worry about their job." Heather muttered a small 'right' and then headed out the office, closing the door behind her. It took a moment before Chardonnay looked back at her phone, her body now tense. The description of the throw pillow was enough to make her gag--literally--and she cringed at the thought of his sleeping arrangement. As much as she thought about telling him to take a cab to her place, she decided against it. No need to look like she cared--because she didn't--and besides, that was his own problem. He wasn't the pregnant one. "Don't say those things when I've got a sick stomach, asshole! I don't need to those images or thought--God, that's what you get for going there and getting drunk. Lie in the mess you have to sleep in. It's your fault."
She paused and looked back out the window to where she could see the staff, thinking back to what Heather said, feeling her brows twitch and her lips purse. "Look, I need to get back to work," she texted back to Arthur after her assessment. "I can't keep texting on the job. I am the owner after all and need to lead by example. Have fun sleeping on the shit pillow with the shit people around you."