Sex, Lies and Her Impossible Boss. Jennifer Rae

acknowledge that love exists.’

      ‘Maybe.’ He shrugged. ‘For some people. But it never lasts, which is why I prefer lust.’ A heavy ball formed in Faith’s stomach. This was not going well. He was going to fire her if he only believed in lust. Her show was based around the fact that everyone at some point in their lives would fall in love. Silence settled thickly around them. Cash was looking out the window and Faith could feel her career and the only thing that mattered in her life slipping away as the seconds ticked past.

      ‘We’re meeting with a tantric sex consultant this morning.’ Faith forced a smile onto her face, trying to dissipate the awkward atmosphere that had settled over them. She glanced at Cash. He was silent as he hung one arm on the car window.

      ‘Tantric sex?’ he said absently, glancing her way with a slight grimace. ‘Sounds fascinating.’

      She wanted to tell him it was. She wanted to explain how she’d been reading about how tantric sex could make sex a more intimate and intense experience. She wanted to give him the statistics on the rise of BSDM and she wanted to explain the benefits of the Jessica Rabbit vibrator over the previous year’s model, The Rampant Rocket. But she didn’t. He seemed distracted and she could feel herself losing him with every speed bump they went over in the road.

      ‘Is something wrong, Cash? Do you have something against tantric sex?’

      She heard the smile in his voice. ‘No. Just thinking.’

      ‘About?’ She shifted the old car into third and it jumped a little as she rounded the corner.

      ‘About you and your show. And about...’ She felt it when his eyes left her face and he turned away. ‘Never mind. Not your problem.’

      He sounded distracted, and a little bit sad. Which made her pay attention. Cash never sounded sad. Mad? Yes. Cross? Absolutely. Frustrated, impatient, angry? Yes, yes, yes. Sad? Never.

      ‘I’m sorry if I argued with you.’

      He turned back to her then and she felt his intense look. ‘You don’t have to apologise for disagreeing with me. I like that you disagree with me. I like that you ask questions and don’t let anyone walk all over you.’

      ‘Then what’s wrong?’

      ‘You know why they sent me out here, don’t you?’

      ‘To manage the station?’

      ‘To save the station. Things are not going well, Faith. I’ve been sent here to make cuts, to find ways to save money and increase revenue. I’m not here to be the big bad bully who ruins everyone’s fun and squashes everyone’s dreams.’

      Faith knew the station hadn’t done as well this year, but she hadn’t realised it was that bad. ‘My show is good, Cash. Moving it into prime time will attract more advertisers.’

      ‘Your show will never go to prime time, Faith. Last week you had someone use a vibrator on herself. That’s not prime-time TV. That would turn off our family viewers, not to mention our family advertisers.’

      ‘You couldn’t see anything. It was just the noise and the point was—’

      ‘It doesn’t matter what the point was. Sex isn’t acceptable on mainstream TV. Sport is. It’s not personal, Faith. It’s business.’

      Not personal? Losing her job was personal. Calling what she did unacceptable was personal. Making everything she’d achieved in the last two years out to be worthless was personal.

      ‘You have no intention of keeping my show on, do you? This is a waste of time, isn’t it?’ Faith pulled the car up with a screech. ‘Because if that’s it, then you should get out now.’

      His eyes met hers and she felt them. Hot. Challenging.

      ‘I made a promise to you, and I’m going to keep it. If you can convince me that sex is more than just sex—I’ll keep your show on. I’ll back you a hundred per cent. I’ll work with you to make this into something we can take prime time. But if I walk away at the end of the week thinking sex is just sex, then you have to admit it’s not going to work. You have to give up.’

      Faith turned back to the road. She revved up the idling engine. The stakes were now higher than ever before. No more Miss Nice Guy. He wanted to know about sex? By the end of today Cash would be dripping in sex. Not literally, of course. But today was about teaching this man what it meant to want something so bad you’d kill for it.

      FOUR

      Patricia Fellows was the kind of woman that you expected to be inside her cosy family home baking cakes. She was round and jolly and constantly cracking dad jokes.

      Cash glanced at Faith. If she thought he was going to sit in this woman’s backyard and have her bring him to orgasm with her energies—she was mad. And he was done.

      He’d been willing to humour Faith. He wasn’t sure why. Perhaps it was the thought of her leaving. She was the only person he knew who could sit him down, shut him up and fascinate him for longer than two minutes. And he didn’t want her to go.

      But her show had to. It wasn’t right for the station and it wasn’t bringing in the advertising dollars it needed to stay feasible. But she was right—her ratings were good. The viewers did enjoy the show. His mind flickered over the options. Perhaps the production team needed some help with direction. Maybe it was the script that needed work.

      Wait. No. He didn’t want to keep the show on. He needed more advertising dollars. Sport. That was what brought in the big bucks. Cash twisted his neck from one side to another. Faith was trying to sell him something he didn’t want to buy. From now on he was going to make a concerted effort to not listen to her.

      ‘Golly, you’re a handsome boy,’ gushed the elderly woman brandishing an incredibly long red stick with tassels each end. Cash stepped back. He didn’t know what she was planning on doing with that stick, nor did he have any intentions of finding out.

      ‘This is my boss. Patricia, Cash Anderson.’

      ‘Gosh, if I had a boss like that I’d come to work dressed in nothing but a pair of very tiny black panties every day.’

      Right. This was uncomfortable. Especially as Patricia was now licking her lips as she looked at him. As if he were a particularly juicy set of BBQ ribs and she hadn’t eaten in a week.

      ‘I might just sit this out and watch.’

      ‘No! No. We don’t normally get ones who look like you here. You will be the star of the show!’ Cash now knew how Hansel and Gretel must have felt.

      ‘Actually, Cash is only here to observe,’ said Faith firmly. She glanced at him and smiled. A playful smile he felt deep down. ‘He’s still learning.’

      ‘Oh.’ The disappointment was obvious in Patricia’s tone. Her eyes turned frosty. ‘Sit over there,’ she demanded, waving her stick.

      A few other people had started to arrive. Mostly middle-aged couples named Barry and Sharon who all seemed to know each other. Faith received a lot of handshakes and hugs and everyone seemed to know who she was. They were all fans of her show. She managed their gushing well, he thought. She answered their stupid questions, laughed at their awkward jokes. Then she stepped back as the session began.

      ‘Tantra brings harmony to all parts of our lives,’ began Patricia as she started handing out silk kaftans. The men and women in the circle seemed to know what to do and immediately start to strip off, replacing their clothes with the kaftans. Cash shifted his feet and tightened the grip on his folded arms. This wasn’t what he signed up for. He had no interest in watching a few horny old men shake their willies about.

      Faith leaned in. ‘Don’t worry. You won’t see anything.’

      He glanced at her. She moved a little closer, as if pressing her arm against his would reassure him, but he didn’t feel reassured. He felt uncomfortable