I had my reasons for agreeing to this arrangement. So did he. It was easy money without having to get physically intimate. A germaphobe’s dream come true. This collaboration was a win-win for me. Until he saw my social media posts fantasizing about our nonexistent sex life: “Tried position #99 with my CEO hubby last night! 99/100 complete!” “OMG! I called him ‘boss’ in bed and he went wild. Can’t walk straight today~” … “So Lily likes to play like this?” “I can fulfill all your desires.” Was the playboy trying to settle down? Time to make a run for it! “Boss, I’m curious – how many women have you slept with?” Even after getting married, I still called him “boss”. Calling him “hubby” would cost extra. “99,” Ryan replied without hesitation. “Damn, that’s precise!” Only 99? I thought players bragged about thousands of conquests. “Interested in being number 100?” It did sound like a nice round number. “Ah no, I’m a germaphobe,” I said, not for the first time. He didn’t get angry. Our arrangement had always worked well. Honestly, Ryan was a good guy and a good boss. Just a bit of a player, but otherwise no major flaws. If he hadn’t proposed this fake marriage deal, I’d still be going on awful Tinder dates and getting ghosted. Plus Ryan was easy on the eyes, which was his best quality. I got to enjoy the view at work and at home. Who could complain? I was basically getting paid double, with eye candy as a bonus. Most importantly, no need to actually get physical. A total win for a germaphobe like me. This was living the dream as far as I was concerned. I started a secret social media account to write steamy fiction about my fake relationship with the boss. It got pretty popular. Username: Naughty Yellow Duck (will change name after unlocking 100 positions) “What’s it like having your husband as your boss?” “The thrill of pretending not to know each other at work every day.” “Another day of calling him ‘boss’ at the office and ‘hubby’ at home~” These posts got hundreds of thousands of views. My followers kept begging for updates. They had no idea these “daily life” posts were just the fantasies of an imaginative writer. But I was raking in the views and building a social media following. In my fictional world, my husband and I pretended not to know each other at work, then got wild at home every night. “He” liked me to call him “boss” in bed. “I” sent him sexy photos during meetings. When he was on video calls, “I” hid under his desk to “service” him. … No one at work knew how steamy our nights supposedly were. My internet followers ate it up. I’d open my notifications to 99+ comments. “Did you and the CEO hubby have fun last night? We need an update!” “Staying up late waiting for big sis to feed us more juicy details~” “We’re all begging for illustrations of the new positions!” … I churned out updates, feeding my followers’ imagination daily. What can I say, I’m a people pleaser with a vivid imagination. I got lost in my writing, unable to stop. But the real eye candy in front of me was more tempting than internet followers. Ryan looked so sexy in his bathrobe after showering. I wanted to interview his past conquests about what it was like to get intimate with him. My followers would love those details. I needed material. I also really wanted to touch his chest muscles, but I was too chicken. Afraid he’d charge me and dock my pay. But Ryan had been giving me these heated looks lately. It started after he asked if I was interested in being his 100th conquest. I looked down at my own chest. Not too shabby, if I do say so myself. I gave my butt a squeeze. Not bad either. No way, was the boss looking to try something new? “What are you doing?” Oh god, his eyes looked hungry and his voice was so sexy. Help! “Oh, um, I’ve been having some irritation down there lately. Hemorrhoids, you know.” A writer’s imagination comes in handy. The fire in Ryan’s eyes died down. Close call. I had zero interest in being just another notch on his bedpost. This germaphobe was staying single. Gotta focus on the money! I drank the warm milk Ryan prepared before bed as usual. I had to admit, Ryan was a good guy. And I’d get to hear some live action through the walls at night. Gave me material for my steamy fiction to feed my followers. Speaking of which, the noises were starting up again. “Did you hear the boss got married? But they’re keeping it quiet~” 9am was breakfast and gossip time. 10am was when we wage slaves had to start actually working. “Secret marriage, of course. Rich people love that stuff.” “He’s not a celebrity, why keep it secret? Being married would suit his image better.” “We plebs can’t understand the world of the wealthy.” An hour passed. 10-11am was spent deciding what to eat for lunch. Hollywood Reject: “Boss, can we expense crab for the team lunch? Pretty please~” World’s Best Boss: “Reason.” The boss was all business over chat. Hollywood Reject: “I’m craving it + I’m broke~ Don’t judge me!” World’s Best Boss: “Call me hubby, I’ll give you a raise.” I didn’t hesitate for even a second out of respect for money! Hollywood Reject: “Yes hubby~ Kisses!”
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