The Boss's Daughter - Pt. 8 - Sex Stories

The Boss's Daughter - Pt. 8

~ Emily ~ I hear voices talking quietly. I don’t recognize who they belong to but they sound nearby. My head is pounding and it feels like someone has stuffed cotton balls in my mouth. “When will we know more?” I know that voice! Clint! I want to open my eyes to see him. I want to open my mouth and tell him he was wrong; things between us weren’t a mistake. Instead I start to feel almost weightless. The pain that seems to engulf my entire body slowly ebbs away to a low throb. I lose the ability to think. Then nothing. ~ Clint ~ I leave Emily’s room briefly to grab another coffee from the machine in the waiting lobby. I pull out my cell for the hundredth time since arriving at the hospital. I need to let Jim know what is going on, but every time I start to call I am flooded by guilt. How do I even begin to explain that this is all my fault? I have thought of many ways to word it and have dismissed them all. There is nothing I could ever say to make Jim understand what happened. Two police officers walk into the lobby. One is older, carrying a respectable sized gut out in front of him, but despite that he has the hardened look of man that doesn’t take shit from anyone. His partner is younger, taller by at least a foot, and appears to be in even better shape than I am. They both scan the entire lobby in a matter of seconds before they have actually crossed into the threshold of the room. Their eyes lock on me and they cross the distance in stride with one another. My heart ...

... hammers erratically in my chest; they are here for me. Somehow they have found out about the sexual relation I had with Emily and now they are here to lock me away. I slide my phone into my pocket as they draw near and straighten myself up. I won’t make a scene, not here, not when I am guilty. They pass me without losing a step. I exhale, realizing I had been holding my breath, and watch as they turn the corner towards the patient rooms. Emily’s room is to the right but they have gone to the left. They are not here about us. I set my untouched coffee down on the small table that holds packets of sugar and a bowl of individually packaged creamers. Then I rub my face with both hands. I have got to calm down. Pulling my phone back out, I quickly scroll to Jim’s number then press the call button before I can change my mind. I lean back against the wall, resting the back of my head against it and staring up at the ceiling while I listen to the line ringing. I don’t know what I am going to say. Dread mounts with every passing second in anticipation to him answering at any moment. The line clicks. I swallow hard. Here goes nothing. “You have reached Jim Larson. I am unable to receive your call at this time. Please leave a short message…” I hang up without leaving a message, short or otherwise. I decide to send Jim a text. Really, it is the cheap way out but he does deserve to know what is going on medically with Emily right now. I will try explaining everything else later when we are ...