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I do not own Glee or the characters, neither do I own Serving The Billionaire.
MERCEDES
I woke from a comfortable dream about swimming pools and opened my eyes... I was in Sam's bed with the duvet carefully tucked around my shoulders.
I turned over, lazily reaching for him, but he wasn't there. The bed was empty. I was alone...
I got up and dressed in my clothes from the night before, and then went into the bathroom to make sure I didn't look too horrifying.
My hair was a disaster, but I was able to smooth it down with some water and twist it into a respectable knot.
With my coat on, I would look like every professional woman in Manhattan... Nobody would be able to tell that I was doing the walk of shame after the single hottest experience of my life.
God... The way he'd touched me... The way he'd laughed, low and pleased when I begged him...
I closed my eyes...
I couldn't think about it now. I had to go home and shower, and get ready for work.
It was hard to believe that in a few hours I'd be back at the club, serving drinks like nothing had happened. But my universe had been upended.
The world had changed. And there was no evidence of it, aside from the spectacular love-bite blooming in the hollow of my throat.
With that, I adjusted my collar to hide the bruise... I'd slather on enough concealer and nobody would notice. Maybe I would wear a turtleneck, just to be safe.
I took a deep breath... My reflection looked just the way it always did. Nobody would be able to tell that I had been transformed.
I gathered my coat and purse and left the bedroom...
I only vaguely remembered the layout of the apartment from the night before, but the hallway led me directly into the main room of the apartment...a large, open space filled with sunlight.
And Sam was there, sitting at the table, laptop open and a coffee mug at one elbow...
He was already dressed, his suit jacket hanging from the back of his chair.
My breath caught...
I hadn't thought...well, I hadn't let myself think. But I didn't expect him to still be here, because it was better not to expect anything, and then always be pleasantly surprised.
He looked up as I came into the room... He didn't smile; his expression didn't change at all.
"Mercedes," he said, his face as smooth as the surface of a pond. "I didn't think you would be awake so soon."
My heart sank... So it was like that.
"I should be going," I said. I wouldn't linger and embarrass myself.
"Have a cup of coffee, at least, before you leave," he said, and my heart rose again, to rest somewhere right beneath my ribs. "It's cold outside."
I hesitated and glanced at the clock on the wall. It was only 10 am. I still had time, but I wasn't sure it was a good idea to stay and drink coffee with him.
It seemed so domestic, and I didn't want him to get the wrong idea...
I didn't want myself to get the wrong idea...
We'd had sex and it had been fantastic, and now we would both go back to our separate lives...
"Blue Mountain, roasted yesterday and ground half an hour ago," Sam said, and I took a step towards him without meaning to.
I liked coffee and I never got to drink the good stuff, just whatever swill was on sale that week at the grocery store.
Sam probably had his coffee flown in directly from Jamaica. And I would be an idiot if I turned down this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to drink a billionaire's swanky coffee.
It was kind of terrifying how easy it was to justify my decisions... Or else, it was just that Sam kept making it easy...
First the money, then the hot sex, now the hot coffee... I hadn't been able to say no to him yet. I wondered if I would ever be able to.
"A cup of coffee sounds good," I said, and watched as one corner of his mouth curled into that familiar half-smile.
Then he disappeared into the kitchen, and I draped my coat over the back of the chair across from his and took a seat.
He had a stack of papers resting beside his laptop, and an open file with some sort of official-looking document inside.
It surprised me that he was working already, so early...
Didn't he have people to take care of paperwork for him?
Maybe that was the difference between being a millionaire and being a billionaire... And Sam hadn't gotten where he had by being lazy and outsourcing grunt work.
He returned with a mug and set it down in front of me...
"I don't know how you take your coffee," he said. "But there's creamer in the fridge and sugar..."
"Black is fine," I said, even though I usually drank my coffee with a generous amount of creamer. But I didn't want to cause him any trouble. He was obviously busy, and I was interrupting.
I felt I was keeping him from his work. I just wanted to drink my coffee and leave.
He sat down and immediately directed his attention to his laptop. And I raised my mug and blew on the steaming coffee.
It smelled incredible...
I took a hesitant sip. It was still too hot to drink, but rich and full-bodied in a way that supermarket coffee never was.
It was too bad that I wouldn't be able to linger and fully enjoy it.
Sam glanced up at me and gave me a rueful smile...
"I'm sorry for ignoring you like this," he said. "I have a conference call with the president at 11, and I need to review these files before I speak with him."
"The president of your company?" I asked. I didn't know anything about business, but I knew that companies had presidents. I was pretty sure.
His mouth did something that I couldn't interpret...
"The president of the United States," he said.
I didn't have anything to say in response to that... So I curled my shoulders forward and sipped my coffee.
What was I doing here with this man who had the President on speed-dial?
I was a waitress... I was an ordinary person... I had nothing to offer him... I could only hold him back.
The realization washed over me in a flood of embarrassment and my face went hot.
I couldn't believe I had indulged a single fantasy, however far-fetched, of dating him, of getting to know him and of somehow becoming a part of his life.
We were from two entirely different worlds... I had nothing to offer this man beyond sex.
We sat in silence for a few minutes as I sipped at my coffee and Sam typed at his laptop, brow furrowed in concentration.
I wondered what he was going to talk to the President about... I couldn't imagine a world in which I was important enough to talk to the leader of the free world.
What would I even say?
I wondered if Sam ever felt nervous talking to the powerful, important people he knew. Probably not. He was a powerful, important person too.
Just as I was sinking into the benthic depths of self-pity, he shut his laptop with an authoritative snap and pinned me with a searching glance.
"So, I suppose this is when we're supposed to make stilted morning-after conversation."
I laughed awkwardly and looked down at my coffee mug.
"I wouldn't know."
He didn't say anything, and I glanced up at him quickly, feeling shy. He was watching me with an expression that made me want to cover my face. He said,
"You don't have many one-night stands, I take it."
"Not really," I said. "I'm sort of... it's not the kind of thing I usually do."
"You can't have lived in New York for very long," he said. "You aren't cynical enough."
I took another sip of coffee, trying to hide my confusion. I wasn't sure if I should feel insulted.
"I've been living here for six years," I said.
He held up his hands, the classic I'm-innocent gesture.
"My mistake. Where are you from then, if you're not a native?"
He'd tricked me; Now I had to admit that I hadn't been born here.
"Southern California," I said. I moved here after high school."
"You're a long way from home," he said.
"Yes," I replied. I didn't want to talk about it.
I'd moved as far away from San Bernardino as I could get without actually leaving the continent, and I was never going back...
Sam must've sensed my reluctance, because he didn't press the point.
"Did you go to college here in the city?" he asked. He was leaning towards me now, arms folded on the table, intent on my response.
I still didn't know how to handle the intensity of his regard.
That he assumed I'd gone to college summed up everything that was different about us...
"I did a couple of semesters at CUNY," I said. "And then I couldn't afford it anymore, so I had to drop out."
I refused to be ashamed... Not everyone was born into wealth... I was smart and I read a lot. And I worked hard. Maybe someday I would finish my degree, and maybe I wouldn't...
Sam looked surprised...
Of course he was; it was probably unthinkable to him that a competent adult wouldn't get a college education. But he just said,
"Have you been working at the club for long?"
"I just started a couple of weeks ago," I said. "I've had a lot of different jobs though. I was a receptionist for a while and a paralegal, and...some other things."
I was boring even myself... There was no way he was actually interested in my life history. He was just trying to be nice, to make conversation.
I should've just invented some wild tale about running away to join the circus...
I didn't want to talk about myself anymore. It was time to turn the tables...
I set down my mug and looked at him.
"What about you? You spend a lot of time at the club. What do you like so much about it? It seems like a strange place to hold business meetings."
Sam chuckled and leaned back in his chair.
"Touché. Tired of being interrogated, are we? I'm sorry. It's just that I find you fascinating and I know next to nothing about you."
I felt exactly the same way about him. I wanted to know everything... His favorite color, his childhood pet's name, even his favorite book. But that felt too intimate, somehow. Talking about the club was firmer ground.
"You didn't answer my question," I said.
"You're very astute," he said. "The club is... Well, you said yourself that you haven't been working there very long. There's more that goes on in the private rooms, than just some drunken groping."
I swallowed... I had already more or less figured that out, but I hadn't expected him to admit it.
"Go on," I said.
He said,
"I told you that I have particular tastes. And I like to watch.. And the club presents plenty of opportunities for me to watch the kinds of things that I like. So..." He shrugged.
And if I didn't know better, I would've sworn he was a little embarrassed.
"But you take your clients there," I said. "Co-workers? Whoever they are. Isn't that sort of..."
"The illegality is what appeals to some of my associates," he said. "If we're doing something naughty together, they think I'm less likely to screw them over in a business deal."
"Are you?" I asked.
His mouth quirked...
"Not particularly. But I like them to think they have the upper hand."
He was cut-throat... I wouldn't want to face him across a boardroom table.
"Being a billionaire sounds like hard work," I said.
Sam laughed.
"More than most people would think." He reached across the table and covered my hands with his. "Did I satisfy your curiosity? Is there anything else you'd like to know? Shirt size, inseam?"
I looked away, embarrassed, and a little annoyed that he was calling me out on questioning him when he'd done the same thing to me.
"Hey," he said. He squeezed my hands and I looked back at him. "I'm teasing you. You're allowed to ask me questions." He glanced at the clock and frowned. "I need to get going though. I'll have my driver take you to your apartment after he drops me off at the office."
"I live in Brooklyn," I said. "It's kind of far."
"Then it's a good thing I pay him to do nothing but drive around the city at my convenience," he said, and smiled at me. "Put your coat on."
I did as he said...
He picked up his phone and had a brief conversation with someone who I assumed was his driver. Then he hung up as I was wrapping my scarf around my neck.
Next, he guided me to the elevator with one hand on my lower back...
We took the elevator down and down, not speaking... It wasn't like it had been last night, when the sexual energy crackling between us had been impossible to ignore or resist.
I was sleepy and Sam was a comforting presence beside me... Companionable in a way that I wouldn't have thought possible.
It was like we had known each other for years, and had just run out of things to say.
The doors opened... We went out into a parking garage and Sam ushered me towards the black town car that was waiting for us.
"I expected a white stretch limousine," I said, as he opened the door for me.
He laughed.
"That would be tacky," he said. "And I've never done anything tacky in my life."
I slid onto the leather seat, hiding my smile... My new goal in life was to make Sam Evans do something extraordinarily, undeniably tacky.
I caught myself then and shook my head at my own train of thought... None of my life's goals could have anything to do with Sam...
I might see him again, across the room at the club, but I wasn't going to serve for him again. And I certainly wasn't going to spend another night in his bed.
As appealing as my fantasies were, they just weren't realistic.
Sam slid into the car behind me and thumped on the divider separating the back seat from the driver... The car started moving and he sat back and glanced at his watch.
"Half an hour. That's plenty of time."
"How long does it take to get to your office?" I asked.
"Ten minutes, with no traffic. And Harry knows how to avoid the traffic." He looked at me, his eyes darkening. "Now, what do you think we can do to occupy ourselves for the next ten minutes?"
By the time the car pulled out of the garage and merged onto the West Side Highway, we were making out in the back seat with one of his hands up my skirt and rubbing circles against my thigh.
His mouth claimed mine... And I clung to him and let myself be taken.
He unbuttoned my blouse, revealing the lacy cups of my bra, and kissed down my throat, lingering over the bruise he'd made the night before.
"Sorry about this," he murmured, his lips brushing against the bruise.
"I don't care," I said, my hands buried in his hair. And I didn't. I liked that he'd left a mark on me, some solid proof of what had happened.
This way, I wouldn't have to wonder if I'd imagined it.
The ride passed too quickly. By the time the car slowed to a stop, my hair had fallen loose from its knot, and Sam had sucked two throbbing circles on the curve of my breast that I thought would probably bruise.
Oh yeah...I was slick between my legs, and I wanted him.
But there was no time...
He pulled away from me and said,
"We're here. I'm sorry I can't linger." He tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear... "I'll be at the club on Sunday night," he said. "Will you be there?"
"Yes," I said. Because I was an idiot... Because I couldn't tell him no. "I'll be there."
"Good," he said, giving me the sort of look that made my insides turn to liquid gold. And then he pushed open the door and got out of the car and was gone.
I exhaled noisily in the sudden silence of the car... God, I was such an idiot.
The panel dividing the car in two slid open, and I was faced with the driver, who had turned around in his seat and was watching me with a poker face.
"Your address, miss?" he asked me, his voice perfectly neutral. He probably saw this all the time... The mornings after of Sam's exploits.
I gave him my address and he slid the panel shut again without comment.
Then the car started moving...
I leaned my head against the back of the seat and closed my eyes...
I didn't know what to do.
Why had I told Sam that I would be at the club?
I had as much as agreed to waitress for him again, and I didn't want to. That wasn't true; I wanted to, but it was a terrible idea. I wanted to be around him all the time, but it was impossible.
He was probably right now taking the elevator up to his office... I imagined that it was probably at the top of some very tall building, with floor-to-ceiling windows and a panoramic view...to have a casual, Saturday morning phone chat with the President.
And I was on my way home to shower, stuff my face with some breakfast and head to my job as an overpaid purveyor of alcoholic beverages.
I didn't believe in fairy tales; I never had. They were nice to read, as a child... To imagine that a handsome prince would swoop in from who-knows-where and rescue you from the bitter dissolution of your parents' marriage, your father's alcoholism and your disapproving relatives.
But then you got older and you learned that nothing good happened to you unless you fought for it tooth and nail.
I was still fighting...
And Sam was no Prince Charming...
But I would rescue myself.
I leaned my head against the window and watched lower Manhattan pass by as we headed for the Battery Tunnel. I would have to tell Sam that we couldn't spend any more time together.
There was no point in letting myself get attached to him. Sooner or later, he would realize that I couldn't offer him what he needed. It was better to make a clean break now, when we were still relative strangers.
I didn't know anything about men, or about sex, and the fact that he was a rich, handsome, charismatic man, only made things that much worse.
I should've experimented with someone harmless when I had the chance... Like that guy at my first job, who'd been so infatuated with me.
I couldn't even remember his name anymore. But he would've been perfect...
I could've gotten all of this out of the way... The nerves, the butterflies, the awkwardness... The terror.
Losing your virginity to a billionaire probably wasn't the way to go.
Wait...
I wonder if Sam knew I was a virgin.
I groaned...
It's possible that he did and didn't mention it... And he did clean me up after...
I fished my phone out of my purse and dialed Jocelyn's number. She didn't work on Saturdays and I really needed to hear her voice.
She answered after a few rings and said,
"You are out of your mind if you're calling me before noon on the weekend!"
I grinned helplessly, unable to keep feeling sorry for myself... Joss' energy practically radiated out of my phone. She was always able to make me feel better.
"Sorry," I said. "Man emergency!"
"Man? Man emergency?" she said. I heard rustling in the background and then she said, "I'm up. I'm making coffee. Tell me everything."
I told her the whole story, minus a few intimate details...
I told her about waking up in Sam's bed that morning, about our awkward conversation over coffee, and the way he pushed me against the door of the car and kissed me until I couldn't breathe.
I told her about how I was going to see him again the next day, and how it would be too easy to let myself fall into his orbit... And about how scared I was.
"Oh girl," she said, when I was finished. "You are so screwed."
I nodded sadly, even though she couldn't see me...
I knew I was.
Stay safe!