Page 9 of Filthy Boss

The hard, crusty shell that I wrapped myself in every day to face the world was left cracked and broken outside my door.

In here, all alone, it was just me, Candice Marie Carlson, the insecure farm girl from Nebraska who was doing her best to get ahead and hold it together in a cruel and unfair world.

Candice Carlson, the girl who was sitting on the floor in the dark with her back against the door to keep the world outside.

Candice Carlson, the girl who cried herself to sleep many nights because the emotional armor she wore to battle the demons of the world was so heavy that it squeezed the emotions out of her like a juice press.

Candice Carlson, the girl who was hard as stone on the outside, but soft as marshmallow on the inside.

I put my forearms on my knees and rest my head on my arms.

I sat there and cried until I had no more tears to give.


It was amazing what a good cry does for the soul. It’s something men will never understand. The weight of the world can be bearing down on you like a Mac truck, but sit on the floor and sob like a baby for an hour and suddenly, all is right with the world.

Or at least as right as it could get at that moment.

Throw in a microwave pizza, a pint of mint chocolate chip Haagen-Dazs, and half a bottle of chardonnay, and suddenly the world is a beautiful place.

At least the world inside my apartment.

I was more than a little drunk as I ran myself a hot bath and prepared to soak for an hour or two. As the tub filled with steaming hot water, I lit several candles and turned off the lights. The aroma of cinnamon and wildflowers wafted on the air.

I closed and locked the bathroom door. Call me weird, but I can’t take a bath or a shower with the door open. Guess I’ve seen too many movies about silly girls who take showers when murderers were lurking around.

I know, I’m a psychiatrist’s wet dream. Oh well.

I set my iPhone on the counter and told Siri to play some Van Morrison to set the mood. I stripped off the sweats that I’d changed into after my crying jag in the foyer, and stood naked in front of the mirror to put up my hair.

As I bundled my long hair into a bun and pinned it to the top of my head, I let my eyes take stock of the woman in the mirror. It was something that I did at the end of every day.

Did the day add a new line or wrinkle?

Are my boobs sagging?

Do I have stretch marks on my stomach?

Again, a psychiatrist would have a field day with me.

I was tall for a girl at five-eight, and curvy for my height.

I inherited my mom’s big boobs and round hips. My boobs hung off my chest like two large melons that had never been squeezed. My areolas contrasted darkly against the milky whiteness of my breasts. I kept my blond pubes trimmed short.

I took a deep breath as I brought my hands down from my hair to cup my breasts. I brushed a finger over my nipples and they responded immediately, growing hard at my touch.

I closed my eyes. Suddenly, in my mind, Tanner Wright was standing behind me with his hands resting softly on my hips. His sudden appearance startled me for a moment, but my mind told me to just relax and let the fantasy flow.

I could feel Tanner’s fingers digging gently into my hips. I felt his thumbs at the small of my back, gently massaging the dimples above my ass.

I rolled my head to the side and moaned as he pressed his lips to my shoulder. He nibbled his way up my neck and to my ear. He took my earlobe between his teeth and bit down just enough to hurt in the most wonderful way.

I could feel his hot breath in my ear.

His tongue followed his breath.

He licked the rim of my ear and darted his tongue inside. A shudder went through me as I could feel the hot juices pooling between my legs.

Tanner’s hands came around to cup my tits. He squeezed the nipples between his fingers. He moaned in my ear.

I felt his cock pressing into my back; long, hard, wet from his juices. He slid his cock up and down my back. I could feel his balls rubbing against my ass.

I braced my hands on the sink and wiggled my ass into him. He slid his cock up and down through the crack in my ass. His hands slid down from my breasts and met at my clit. He rolled my clit between his thumbs. I could feel the orgasm building from deep within my body, like a match that would soon start a raging fire.

Tanner continued sliding his cock against me as his hands worked my pussy. He slid his fingers across my folds to lubricate them, then teased my opening.

“Fuck me, Tanner,” I heard myself moan. “Take my cherry. Make it yours forever.”

I pushed my ass toward him and leaned the top half of my body forward, offering my pussy to him. I felt his hands on my hips again as he positioned himself behind me. I felt the head of his cock pressing into my hole. I held my breath in anticipation. He slid in just the head and paused for a moment. I felt my pussy spreading to accommodate him.