Page 84 of Our Sadie

TWENTY-EIGHT: Flash of Lightning

SADIE

I’ve awakened from one the best naps I’ve ever experienced when my cell buzzes from the nightstand. I fling my limbs out like a starfish, luxuriating in taking up so much room. As much as I love having the guys acting as my three personal body cushions, there’s something awfully luxurious about stretching out as far as I can.

I can’t stretch very far, and that reminds me how much I’ve been neglecting doing any of the exercises my occupational therapist recommended I do. Part of this is due to me rebelling against all the physical suffering I endured during those early days, and part of it is just me being a pain in the ass.

I’m stubborn, I can admit it. And sometimes, I don’t listen because I don’t want to.

Maybe it’s an independence thing, I don’t know. But now that I find myself limited in my movements, I chastise myself.

I should’ve kept up with that. I know the guys all work out using various methods. That’s why all three of them are such marvelous specimens whether in the buff or dressed. Yet, they make me feel beautiful just the same.

Sex with them is so liberating. Not to mention a workout in its own right. So, maybe I haven’t been doing the correct exercises, but I have been getting something.

And honestly, it’s been the best time of my life.

I’m still in bed feeling downright lazy when my phone buzzes from the nightstand again. Unable to ignore it this time, I roll over, having to scoot from the center of the mattress to reach the silly thing.

Win: Can you take a gander at the site? I’m receiving several messages about the consent to the background checks landing page.

Ah. These troubleshooting issues pop up every now and then.

My bestie and I do have a customer support team that deals with FAQs and other problems that frequently come up within the site, but the truth is that fiddling with the code is something I like to have proprietary control over. When it comes down to the nitty-gritty complexities, I’d rather deal with those types of matters myself.

And this is one of those times.

Sadie: Hopping on my laptop now.

My laptop is the most powerful programming computer money can buy, but such capacity is required to do the work that’s sometimes necessary for me. I’m careful about what the guys see me doing anytime I’m on the screen.

Watching a movie in bed or ordering something from an online store won’t so much as bat an eye but bringing up a black monitor with lines of code would no doubt cause them to inquire about subjects I’d rather not broach.

Not yet, anyway.

It’s best for everyone involved if they remain unaware of who actually constructed the deep website that enabled me to hire them as male escorts. It could look like a conflict of interest since I’m an insider with this company.

I guess as the CEO, there’s no other way of putting it.

Situating myself in my seating area, I scroll through the backend of the site, searching for whatever might be amiss. I locate the issue, but it takes more than a few keystrokes to fix the broken links.

Since this will take more time and concentration than I thought, I lay my laptop on the low table and perch my ass on the carpeted floor. This way, I won’t have to fight to balance the keyboard on my lap while typing with one hand.

Like I often do in such circumstances, I lose myself in my work. It’s been since before the guys and I came out here to New Hampshire that I’ve delved so in-depth into Elegance, and it feels good to get my hands dirty again.

Since it’ll be simpler to have my bestie provide the customer view without me having to flip back and forth between the pages, I contact her directly. I’ve been meaning to reach out to her, anyway.

“Win, thanks for the heads up.”

“Oh, I know how much you geek out on stuff like this.” There’s humor in her tone. It’s been forever since I’ve heard her voice. I really should call her more often, even if typing out messages is sometimes easier. “I’ve held off on bugging you for a few weeks, but now the minor glitch has become a major one.”

I tap out what should be a solution onto the page. Working with just my right hand still aggravates me, but I soldier on.

“Okay, I think I nixed it, but try pushing a check through so we can be sure.”

“Aye, aye, Captain Caroline.” Seconds tick by. “Well, when I attempt to send the attachment, it’s still giving me an error.”