It’s a murky Thursday evening and the rain is illuminated by distant flashes of lightning as it smatters against the darkness of the wall of windows enclosing the fourth-floor offices.
Nadine has planned to leave at least three times, but each time, there is another buzz from Brian Locke, to ask her, “Just one more thing.”
Her phone buzzes with a text: Not going to make it tonight – hate to sound punny – but can we have a rain check?
She puts her head in her hands and feels the tension seeping even more deeply into her shoulders.
The tears slide down her face, she knew he would do this, he always does. It's all a game to him.
“Fuck you,” she mutters into the darkness.
She is surprised to hear a chuckle and looks up to see her boss standing in a pool of light from his office doorway which faces her own office.
“Is that directed to me, Nadine?” he asks in his precisely clipped British accent.
She is mortified and hastily wipes her face before getting to her feet. The cleaner has just moved from this floor, and though Nadine keeps her away from her own office, the smell of furniture polish and bacterial cleaner always seems to seep into her space.
“I thought you were about finished up for the night, Mr. Locke, I didn’t know you had your door open.” She is babbling, but the last thing she needs after the last few days is a dressing down from her immediate superior – who technically is her boss.
“Sounds like someone has gotten under your skin?” He is walking towards her, and as always, she begins to feel that strange sensation that falls upon her in his company.
She shakes her head and begins to gather random items off her desk.
“I was supposed to be meeting a friend for dinner and drinks – he has just let me down last minute; it was why I stayed in town so late.” She tries to make her voice sound like she doesn’t care, but Derek does this every time, and it is so frustrating.
He leans against her desk as she stands, hoping that no more tears will fall.
Her heart is dented yet again. One more boy who can’t or won’t compete with her career.
How does she find them, and why does she care that she is going to spend yet another night at home? And then, before she can even get to grips with her thoughts, the tears are flowing from her eyes.
She turns her back to him, wiping furiously at her face. “Jesus,” she mutters, and then he is handing her a handkerchief and she is more mortified than before.
“I am so sorry that was incredibly unprofessional of me. It has just been a tough few days pushing through the acquisition in Germany, I think I am just overly tired.”
He is in very close proximity, and she is terrified that he might be about to pat her shoulder.
He shakes in solidarity; he looks anything but tired, he looks fresh in his crisp blue button-down shirt and tailored trousers, his dark grey eyes smiling at her.
“Let me pour you a drink and then I think we should both call it a day, it’s almost 7:30.”
She has a moment of hesitation; it is one thing to have good camaraderie with the boss but drinking alone in his office when the floor is empty. She dismisses the thought; Brian Locke has never been anything but professional since her first day here almost a year ago. She knows her own worth and is delighted that her employers know it too.
She doesn’t drink whiskey as a rule, but it has been a day, so when he holds up the bottle she nods in consent.
“So, who is the fool who cancelled on you?” he asks as they settle back with drinks.
“He is a friend I suppose, well maybe friend is not right.” She sips her drink trying to think how best to describe Derek.
She could say – he is a guy from my past, who I never really got over, and every so often he calls for a hook-up and each time I allow myself to think it is because he has realised, he just cannot live without me. But she stays quiet.
“It sounds like he is one of those guys.” Brian smiles to take the sting out of his words.
“He is really just a guy. It has been so crazy around here for the last week, I was looking forward to letting my hair down.” As the words leave her mouth, she feels they were the wrong ones.
Hastily she tips the drink back and stands.
“I am sorry, Mr Locke. Whiskey – possibly not a good drink for me, makes me say silly things.” She put the cut glass on the bar counter, pausing to look out at the amazing expanse of twinkling lights spread across the city. “I better get packed up and get out of here, and let you get home.”
She turns from the windows to find Brian Locke watching her with a mischievous grin.
“He really is a fool,” he says, as she bids him goodnight.
The whole way home a strange sensation taps at her. At home, she strips off and showers.
She can still smell Brian Locke’s aftershave on her hair, and she holds it under her nose to inhale. Nice scent she acknowledges.
The days that followed were much the same as all the others that came before them, except, Nadine noticed Brian Locke watching her more than once.
A new contract had been secured in Asia and Nadine was asked to sit in on a meeting to discuss the realities of moving equipment across Asia or the possibility of buying new equipment over there.
She had prepared a presentation and handed out copies of her research to the partners as they sat around the obscenely large boardroom table.
She had dressed in infinite care that morning. Already she knew she was paid well above the standard, but she came to the job with a massive wealth of experience not the least of having worked for 4 years in Hong Kong. Business analysts of her calibre were hard to find, and she had been wooed by the company before she even knew she was looking for something new.
Her pale blue suit dress fit her body snugly, she knew that as she leaned forward to the desk that anyone looking behind could tell she gave her body plenty of attention and gym time.
Her heels, while modest, added another three inches to her height.
As the meeting progressed, she sensed the partners, all male, were impressed with her for more than her good looks, and at the conclusion, one or two of them beamed at her in delight.
“You really have thought of everything, Miss Cooper,” Brian Locke says, more to the room than to her. “I am nervous that you might be after my job soon.”
The comment is met with good-natured laughing from all in attendance, but Nadine experiences a little flutter of happiness that he had singled her out for praise, hers, had not been the only presentation of the afternoon.
It is almost a week before Brian Locke congratulates her in person on a job well done to the board.
Her office is nestled in the corner of the fourth floor, next to his, but with a small anteroom between them where her assistant, a young girl called Heather has a desk and a reception area.
Her office is nowhere near as plush as Brian’s, or as big, but she loves that after so many years of hard work she has a view.
It is early Friday afternoon when she drops some files to Heather for stamping and processing. The younger woman is like a puppy she is so eager to please, and not for the first time Nadine is glad she gave her the job.
“How is it all going out here today?” she asks looking around at the massive hive of activity.
“All good today.” Heather has the most earnest smile and is seemingly constantly on the move.
“The usual pre-weekend feeling, so many people sneaking out for late lunches. You know the kind that they are not coming back from?” Her grin is contagious.
“Ah, the joy of the weekend – you anything nice planned?” Nadine asks more out of politeness, her relationship with most people at work is purely professional: she likes it that way.
“I’m going away for the night with my boyfriend” Heather replies suddenly shy.
Much as she isn’t into office romance, or office gossip, Nadine knows how to keep staff sweet, and she could already see that Heather is so excited to go, she was barely there.
“Tell you what. Why don’t you finish up that paperwork, get it to the second floor for processing and head off early?”
Heather stares at her, almost unsure if she should believe her.
“Go on. It’s a holiday weekend. If Mr. Locke needs anything, I can sort it. I have zero plans, and plenty of work.”
It seemed Nadine did not need to speak twice, as less than twenty minutes later the younger woman was off in a flash.
As she settles back at her own desk the intercom on Heather’s desk buzzed.
She clicks the connection through her own phone and answered.
“Can you come in here and take some notes please – and bring in the file from yesterday the Lurgan one, and will you grab me a coffee too, I didn’t have time for lunch.”
He disconnects before she can reply.
Nadine finds the file easily – Heather was a well organised girl. She balances her notebook on top of the file, got the coffee from the coffee doc on the third floor made her way to his office.
She taps with her heel against his door for fear of dropping the pile in her arms.
“Yeah, come on in, the door is open,” he mutters.
Using her butt, she depresses the door handle and enters the office.
He doesn’t look up until she is putting the coffee on the desk, and moves a folder to put the file down.
“Goodness – Nadine. Where is Heather, did I not buzz her extension.” He looked accusingly at his desk phone.
Nadine has a moment to look at him unnoticed. He looked tired, but his tousled hair, and tired eyes seemed to add to his charm. Brian Locke is a very attractive man.
“She had plans, as does the whole floor by the looks of things. There was little left to do, so I told her she could go early. She didn’t stop for lunch.” When she spoke, she realised that she sounded like she was making excuses.
Heather was her assistant, and granted she had to do whatever jobs or work Brian Locke wanted, but Nadine’s contract explicitly referred to Heather as her assistant.
He put his hands up like a man facing a firing squad.
“Woooo ok. I wasn’t questioning you, just that I didn’t expect you to be coming in here to take dictation, and to bring me a coffee.” His expression screams amusement, but something else, something that made her wary.
She nodded, still trying to process why the new atmosphere seemed to be sending sparks shooting in odd places in her body.
“You had some dictation you needed doing,” she reminds him. “I told Heather I would not leave her in the lurch, and to be honest, my shorthand is off the scale; it’s that good.” She grins to let him know she is happy to help, but he is lucky to get such help.
“It can wait till next week. I am sure you too would like to get out of here early.”
She sensed a question but chose to ignore it.
“Honestly, Mr. Locke, I can take diction, I am actually really fast, I can type up whatever you need and have it done in no time.”
“You need to call me Brian. You are the only one who calls me by my full formal name. It makes me feel very old.”
She nodded to the pad on her lap, far too aware that something had changed in the atmosphere.
For forty minutes, Brian Locke, in his finely clipped voice, dictated three letters. He checked after each one to see if that was okay with her, and on the final one, she suggested he changed some phraseology to make the point more succinct.
“I will type these up and have them for you in about 15 minutes? Is that, ok?”
“If you can, it would be marvellous.”
She diligently typed up the letters and checked for an email response he had spoken about during dictation.
It was closer to thirty minutes later when she was done.
She noted ruefully that almost all the staff on her floor had headed off for the weekend.
One or two waved to her with fingers pressed to their lips as they shimmied off no doubt for a crazy weekend away from work.
“WOW,” she thinks, “You have such a boring life.”
She knocks again on his door, this time he opens it himself, almost as though he has been waiting for her to return.
“I have the letters, and I checked regarding the relocation of the transformer plant on the Lurgan job. They haven’t sent the paperwork, so I sent them off an email to remind them it needs to be done before the twelfth.”
She reaches his desk and notes the glass of whiskey on his side.
He closes the door and moves to his chair.
He signs all three letters without checking and passes them back to her.
“Sit and have a drink with me before you go off galivanting for the weekend.” His smile is kind, but she knows he is telling her and not requesting her to.
“I will have a drink, but I don’t do galivanting, and certainly not this weekend.”
She waits for him to pour her a whiskey, instead, he opens a cabinet and takes out a bottle of Merlot.
“This more up your street than the Scotch?” he asks quirking an eyebrow.
Merlot is her favourite, but how did he know that.
“I saw you drinking red wine at the last work thing, I didn’t think I had noted it, but I must have.”
He passed the glass to her, and suddenly her throat feels very dry. How many variations of red wine are there?
She takes a very large gulp of wine. The room feels suddenly too warm.
They chat about inconsequential things, new business, darker evenings, company history, college days, everything is safe ground.
The knock at his door makes her jump, and she instinctively feels she should hide her wine glass.
“Come in,” he shouts, it seems the Whiskey has lightened his mood.
Kevin Kelly the office manager opens the door a rain mac draped across his arm.
“Brian, just checking up on yourself and the other work-a-holic. You both know it’s a holiday weekend, right?” His customary huge smile on his face. “I was about to but I saw the light on.”
Kevin Kelly, a man well into his sixties was known to have no filter; and also known as the best office manager in downtown.
“I was just finishing up Kevin, I have my pass key with me. I hope you are heading home to the boat for the weekend?” she asks smiling.
“You bet I am. Speaking of boats, it was like the sinking of the Titanic earlier with everyone running out, they must have known you had the boss well distracted, so they scarpered. Anyway, goodnight to you both, see you all next week.” His big cheery face has no clue the turmoil he has just rendered in Nadine’s flaming cheeks.
She can barely swallow the last drop of wine. She needs to get out of this office before Brian Locke makes something awkward out of Kevin’s words.
Instead, he starts to laugh. A great big belly laugh. He puts his hand to his mouth as if to try and stop the laughter, but he can’t.
“I’m sorry, Nadine, but your face is a picture.”
She wasn’t sure what he meant, or sure she wanted to know.
“I don’t think Kevin meant anything untoward at all.” The laughter is still in his voice, and she is sure her face is now beet red.
Standing, a little unsteadily, she takes the letters she had typed, and goes to her own office to put them into their respective postage pockets.
That done, she buzzes down to the mailroom to have them collected from the shoot.
She pops them into the internal shoot, knowing, that somewhere, three floors below, some unknown person would take them, date stamp them, put them through a machine, and as if by magic, they would get to where they needed to.
She looks at her desk, thinking she could do another hour of work as the phone again buzzes on her desk.
It is Brian Locke.
“Can you pop back in for two minutes please?” he asked.
Again, he is sitting at the desk, but this time a fresh glass of wine sits waiting for her.
His tie is off as his jacket. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to the elbows and he looks more relaxed than she had ever seen him.
“Amuse a poor old man, will you?” he asks nodding at the wine. “You have nowhere to be. I have nowhere to be. What harm is a glass of wine to end a crazy week?”
“Hardly old, Brian.” It felt odd to use his first name.
“Forty-eight next birthday. Apparently, I am the youngest ever vice president in my field. That might explain why I spend more time here than out of here.” He nods to the twinkling lights beyond the window, and takes a long slow slug of his drink.
Again, they settle into chit-chat, and Nadine is amused by his very British mannerisms as they cover a wealth of information, on all things from art to rubrics cubes. She slows down drinking the wine, suddenly not so keen for the evening to end.
She is surprised when the third glass of wine is poured and now Brian is sitting in the chair to her left, both their chairs turned to each other, and he is laughing as she regales him with a story about her time spent in Hong Kong.
Something about chatting like this has made her less wary, and without even realising it, she is tossing her hair back and rubbing the back of her neck.
“You work damn hard Nadine, when do you get some you time?”
His question sounds innocent, but something at the nape of her neck sends warning signals.
“I have stuff I do.” Her mind is trying to think of anything, so she blurts, “I got to the gym most mornings.”
“I see that.” Is his response.
“I do, I have I mean, other hobbies.” She is stuttering, and their chairs seem to have gotten much closer together. If he stretches his long legs a tiny bit more their feet will be touching.
She moves her foot back, and crosses her legs, not unaware that her dress has ridden higher up her thigh.
He stares hard at her legs, his eyes slowly travelling from her ankle all the way up. He lingers on her chest, and she hopes he can not see her nipples reacting to the intensity of this moment.
His phone buzzes on the desk, but he ignores it: until it begins to hum out an insistent ring.
He pulls a hand wearily across his eyes before picking it up.
He watches her as he listens to the caller.
“I can’t make it tonight. Something has come up. I am hoping to do a little more exploration before I leave the office.”
His eyes never leave her face, and the sound of her heart in her own ears had taken on a drum beat effect.
He puts the phone down, stares at her.
“Brian?” she asks, her voice sounding far more balanced than she feels.
“You tell me, Nadine.” He is leaning a little closer, but he hasn’t touched her although his presence is making her feel things.
She looks down at her feet trying to work out what to say. Is he making a move? Is she going to look like a fool for reading the situation all wrong?
“I’m not sure what is going on. We are just having a drink. Right?” she asks feeling way out of her depth.
Is it the wine, she asks herself? She must work with this man day in day out, but something has changed since the night Derek stood her up. Some tension is always around when he is there.
She has taken to wearing her best clothes to work, buying new skirts that show her figure from her generous bottom to her long thighs. She hasn’t done this consciously, but somewhere she knows that she has been waiting for his approval.
“It’s your call.” He still hasn’t moved, and she knows it will take just one movement on her part to change things.
She shakes her head. This is a stupid idea.
“What is my call?”
“Do you want me to spell it out, Nadine.” His voice is cool, and the temperature spikes in her body.
“I might need you to.” Why is she still speaking? Only bimbos fall into bed with the boss, and she isn’t one of them. She has worked too hard to be some conquest.
“Perhaps I have been out of the game for too long.” He runs a hand through his hair, the dark curls bouncing in disarray as he does. “I might have misread the situation. I apologise.” He looks anything but contrite, and she is sure he has moved closer to her.
He holds out a hand, a handshake move. She takes the proffered hand and stands up.
“I hope you understand, Brian. I don’t think workplace complications are a good idea.” Her voice is huskier than she intends, and she has absolutely no idea why she is saying that.
He hasn’t let go of her hand, and she is acutely aware of where their bodies meet.
“I totally understand, I misread the situation, and honestly, you are right,” he says, the pressure from his fingers is like molten lava that she wants to be burned on.
“I am?”
“Of course, we have a great working relationship, it would be foolish to mess with it.” He lets her hand go and she feels it drop uselessly to her side.
But she hadn’t said that, had she? Was that even what she meant. She misses the heat from his hand, but she realises he has given them both an out, and she will be glad of it later.
She moves to the door, a deep throbbing from between her legs tells her she is a fool to walk away, but she ignores it.
When she has gathered her belongings, he has already gone, or the light at least is out in his office.
The weekend is long and dull and so many times she replays what might have been.
On Saturday night she buys a bottle of expensive merlot and lays in front of her balcony windows watching the stars.
She is naked, and she imagines Brian walking into the room.
He tells her to spread her legs for him, to get on all fours, and crawl to him. The fantasy feels so real.
She opens the balcony doors and a cold breeze wraps around her naked body.
She cups her breasts, pinching hard on her own nipples imagining it is Brian’s mouth licking her skin, biting on the hard nubs of flesh. The cold air causes her skin to break into goosebumps, and for a moment she considers sending him a photograph. Show him what she looks like under those tight-fitted dresses, show him what her naked want looks like.
She takes her phone and places one foot on the low coffee table, holding one arm under her ample breasts to show him what he can’t have. She takes the snap, then another, with her head flung back, and the boldness of creating the photos brings the warmth back between her legs.
She takes multiple shots, in different poses, till she is incredibly turned on. She closes the doors and moves to her bedroom. She roots around till she finds the big black dildo, the one guaranteed to give her the release she needs. Carefully she places the phone on top of the headboard and checks to see if it is getting a full view. She pours more wine, thinking it might not be a great idea, but she is too horny now to really care.
She positions the stand-up dildo at the end of the bed, sitting on the frame so that she can mount it and still be seen on the screen.
She finds a ruby red lipstick and carefully applies it, then thinks about it, and carefully smudges it so it looks like her mouth has been busy. She fluffs her hair out, and presses record on her phone.
She is beyond turned on now, the idea that she will send this recording to him has made her so wet that there is no delay as she squats one leg on the floor the other on the bed to slide the huge black dildo between her legs.
She is not acting for the screen as the thick black rubber stretches her wide. It takes several tries to get her balance, but once she has it, she gets the rhythm going. She bends back as much as she dares, knowing the camera can see right between her legs, can see the wet glisten of her pussy, and the wetness of her slick cum coating the dildo as she rides it. She pinches her own nipples hard, and gasps as the electricity runs from her nipples to her clitoris.
She imagines Brian spread across his desk as she lowers herself onto his hard cock, she imagines the look of pure heat as he looks up at her riding him, feeling her taking control, the way she bounces up and down on him, holding his arms down so she has control, watching her tits bouncing knowing that she will cum and bury him in herself as she does.
The heat between her legs is almost excruciating, and she bounces so hard on the dildo that her tits are getting sore with the movement, and she needs that release, and her head is thrown back, but nothing, it isn’t working.
She is not sure how long the recording has been on, but she can’t send him a video if she doesn’t cum. Carefully, she tries to manoeuvre herself so her back is to the camera and the dildo is entering her pussy from the rear. This takes a lot of work, and she pulls a chair over to get the balance right, but this time, it is hitting the right spot. She thinks of Brian flinging her over his desk, pinning her down, telling her it's her job or else if she doesn’t make him cum.
She is bouncing so hard on the dildo now she is terrified it will fall off and she won’t have release, and then she feels that magical sensation, right in the pit of her stomach, fanning out through the nerve endings in her fingers, she rides the dildo squeezing her tits, faster and faster, and then it's there, the crescendo, the shattering of the nerve endings, she doesn’t stop, even though it's almost painful now, she needs that final moment of release, and it shoots through her, leaving her gasping, holding the wall for support as her body tips over the edge and she finally finds a release.
It takes a few minutes before her legs are working enough to move around the bed and take the phone. She watches the video entranced. She doesn’t even look like herself. Who is this vixen, with the crazy eyes, and the smudged lips? But it is the shots from behind which surprise her the most. It is almost impossible to tell it’s her. The curvature of her buttocks, the slick line of moisture between her ass cheeks, she is infinitely turned on watching this.
On Monday she uses the video to masturbate and thinks of how she will react to seeing Brian tomorrow. She didn’t send the video, it would have been suicide to do that, but she has no intention of deleting it.
She finds an app and trims it, taking out the messy parts, the almost falling off the chair bits, and the minutes at the end where she is spent and listless.
Late on Monday night she takes a bath and pours in every concoction she can find. She carefully chooses what to wear to work and settles on a dark charcoal grey dress which just reaches her knees. It has tiny button detailing on the back and a discreet zip to the side. It fits her body like a glove. She pairs it with heels that she normally wouldn’t wear in the office.
She is at her desk at 8:30 on Tuesday morning, as sense of nervousness means she is slow getting any work done.
The morning passes with no sign of her boss and it is almost 6 pm before he shows. By now she has resigned herself to not seeing him, and even though their last encounter could have made things more awkward, it is her weekend fantasies that cause her cheeks to flare when he walks into the office.
Heather has been flighty all day and when Brian summons her to the office, she drops her folder.
I lean out the door.
“What is wrong with you?” I ask
“I hate when he is in a bad mood that’s all, he doesn’t even give me a chance to sit down he just starts firing words at me.”
She looks like she is going to cry.
“What makes you think he is in a bad mood?” I ask wondering if I have anything to do with it.
“He was down in legal. Jennie, my friend works there. She sent me a text to say he is furious about something and keep your head down. I am due to get my bus in half an hour.”
The intercom buzzes again and I hear Brian sounding like he might explode in anger.
“Heather – can you bloody well get in here?”
Heather looks so worried that her hands are shaking.
I make a snap decision.
“Give me the pad.” I hold my hand out to her “You can type up whatever it is he needs first thing in the morning, so you better be good on my shorthand.”
She hands me the pad her head down.
“I promise I will be excellent. I can’t believe you would do this for me.” Her eyes are glassy, and I fear she might cry.
“I am doing it because I hired you Heather, and it reflects really badly on me if you go in there and make a mess of things. Get yourself together. Go and clean up your face, and get the paperwork sorted before the end of today. Then go home, and rock back in here tomorrow with your game face on. I will leave this notebook for you when I am done.” My tone is clipped and hard, but I realise it’s because I am nervous about entering his office.
I straighten my dress and tap on his door.
I can’t make out his reply, so I open the door and walk in. His back is to me, as he looks out at the start of a murky sunset high over the city.
“First letter to those fools over in Teegan Industries, you have his name from last week.”
I write a note to find it and sit poised to write.
“Dear whatever” he is chewing off his words, and I think it might be prudent to mention it is me and not Heather.
As I open my mouth to speak, he launches into a list of complaints against the company, and formally notes their failings in terms of their contractual obligations. I have a moment where I feel sorry for the receiver of this letter, the tone screams fury.
He launches into the second letter and turns suddenly an incredulous look on his face.
“AGAIN, Nadine?” his voice is filled with accusation, and I take a moment to note I am most certainly not in favour.
“I’m sorry, I did try to tell you, but there wasn’t an opportunity. Heather is not feeling very well.”
I don’t have another excuse and that was the best I could do.
“Perhaps Heather should have stayed home for the weekend then, rather than partying it away,” he snaps.
“I hardly think it's anyone’s business what staff do on their downtime.” I snap back, instantly regretting my words.
He is furious, his face is dark, and I can feel the rage coming from him.
“I hardly think it takes someone in a senior position to take fucking dictation – yet here YOU are.” His face is red, and I know I have crossed some invisible line.
I hold my breath for a moment, it is so easy to blame the fiery red hair for every time I lose my cool, but I have managed to never do that in work.
I count to ten and look again at Brian Locke.
His is staring at me, daring me, I think, to say something else.
“I am here now; do you want me or not.” I try not to make my voice sound snappy, but it is taut, and my heart is bashing against my rib cage.
“Do you expect me to answer that?” Some of the heat has come out of his face, and now I realise I could have phrased my question better.
I feel like the room is closing in, and I think back to Saturday night's video escapades, and this morning’s session with the vibrator, all to get rid of the sexual tension which seems to be springing off me like fireworks right now.
“Do you want me to take dictation from you, or would you prefer me to find someone else who can do that?” I ask trying hard to keep my voice steady.
He takes a deep breath, his eyes are hard flint, and I am far too aware of his masculinity as his hands drum across his desk.
I wish, for a fleeting moment that there was no one in the offices, that I was brave enough to lock the door and walk over to him. My breath catches in my throat.
It's like he is reading my mind, and the remnants of a grin spread across his face.
He walks around the desk and stands far too close to my chair.
“The next letter is to Murry Walden at HenKen Electronics.” His voice is still sharp, but the rage seems to have gone.
I am shaking, the shorthand won’t mean a thing to me when I try to read it back, but I need to get this done and get out of this office.
He flings words at me, testing my speed, asking me to repeat what I have just written, and somehow, I get through it.
There is a static beat between my legs, and his voice is having a ridiculous effect on my temperature.
He finishes and stops speaking for so long, I am forced to look up at him to see what is going on.
“You can go,” he says before turning his back on me.
I feel like I have been slapped across the face.
How fucking dare he dismiss me: all the frustration inside me wants to tell him that, but some tiny part of my brain still has its rational hat on.
I walk out of the office, raging I chose today to wear this dress, because my knees are knocking so much walking is not the option it should be, I look shuffly rather than sexy.
When I get to my desk, I am not surprised to see everyone else has gone home, apart from one lone lamp at the far end of the office, all the lights are out.
I dump the jotter on Heather’s desk and go and turn off my lamp, fuck him, he doesn’t get to speak to me like that, like I am some bold child, and again the turbulence starts.
I am not sure who is more surprised when I stomp back into his office, slam, and lock the door.
Some brazen hussy has taken control of me, and I feel like fuck it, let her.
I walk around his desk and stand where he can not reach a hand out to touch me.
Without a word, I undo the side zipper, in two moves the dress is pooled on the floor, and I am standing in front of him in a tiny balconette bra and high-heeled shoes.
He is staring and I need him to use words because the hussy could run out the door and leave me here at any minute, and then it is just me and this man.
He takes his time standing up, but there is no mistaking that I have influenced him.
“Jesus, you are beautiful,” he mutters as he stands in front of me.
My legs are trembling, and I have no idea where to go after this.
Reaching out he lets his hand move from my thigh to right between my legs.
“No panties? Were you expecting me to fuck you?” His thumb is playing with that soft flesh at the top of my thigh, not close enough to feel how wet I am, but I know he knows it.
My breath is stuck in my throat and my mouth is too dry, my answer is little more than a croak
I try again “I don’t wear panties to work” I speak but the voice is that of the hussy, challenging him.
He makes one more move so that the length of my body is pressed against his, his mouth trails across my neck and he spins me around, so my back is moulded against his body.
I am delighted to feel how hard and big he feels against my ass, but the trembling is now all over my body, I am shaking, both from fear and anticipation.
His assault starts on my neck, his hot breath moving from beneath my ear to the nape of my neck. His tongue, his lips, his cheeks, it is almost like he is putting his scent on me.
One hand moves around and cups my pussy, sliding a finger in and holding me firm against the palm of his hand.
His other hand moves to deftly undo the bralette and it drops to the floor as my tits jig in delight at the freedom.
He pinches one nipple so hard that I gasp and throw my head back.
“Do you want me to fuck you right now?” His words have never sounded so good to me, that proper clipped British accent making the intention so much hotter.
“Yes” it takes one word, and he pins me across the desk, no more foreplay I think, you are getting what you asked for.
One hand holds me down at the base of my spine as I hear him tear out of his clothes, and then his hands; as though playing some beautiful instrument, are moving all over my body, and he is spreading my legs so wide I worry I might topple, and then I feel the heat of his mouth at the top of my thighs, his nose edging against the cheeks of my ass.
He places his hands flat under me against my abdomen, and in one move pulls me so he has full access with his mouth.
His tongue darts inside me, the heat of it almost like an electric current, his mouth then takes my clitoris fully in, sucking so slowly while his tongue glides along my labia, sudden assault, tender licking, then the biting, and I don’t think I can hold it together, I know I am moments from orgasm, and he knows it too.
His thumb moves between my butt cheeks, and he slides along till he finds the pulsation there while his mouth is greedy, buried between my legs, all the time pulling me closer to his mouth, spreading my legs as wide as they can go. I am immobilised, my body pinned down at this angle across his desk and still he is assaulting my pussy with his mouth, deeper and deeper, tongue and teeth and mouth, the sucking and pulling of flesh, the sounds of slurping and I am there, the sparks are bursting from somewhere deep within me and I am filled with the most beautiful flare, and I want to scream but I can’t, instead I feel him hold me tighter. His thumb slips deep into my ass and he plummets there, while his mouth draws me out and I am shuddering against his mouth and every fibre and nerve ending is beaming off to outer space and I can't think with all the nerve endings clashing and then it intensifies as his thumb and finger are buried now in my ass and another sensation, one I have never had, and deep inside another orgasm only this one is in my ass, and it is sparking and I can’t stop the howl of ecstasy that erupts from my mouth.
It takes me moments, I feel like every electrical current in the city has passed through my body, and still his mouth is between my legs, hungry, lapping, greedy, and I try to turn but he laughs, laughs at me.
“Oh no. I am in control of this game now.” His voice is filled with guttural passion, and I wait for his next move.
It takes moments, and I feel him straighten up, his mouth working up my back to my neck, he grabs my hair at the nape of my neck and pulls my head back to claim my mouth with his.
I know what I taste on his mouth is me, and I am fired up again with insane want and passion.
His kiss is deep but cruel, without care, but filled with passion.
I have enough, and try to spin around, but he just laughs at me, I am the puppet he is the master.
“That ass needs training on how it should behave.” He mutters so darkly that I have a moment of fear.
His hands though are tender. He spreads my cheeks wide, and I feel his cock prodding against where his thumb had been.
I have never had anal sex, and I have no clue of the mechanisms, but the mere touch of him against me and I am straining again to find him, to make his body meld against mine.
It begins again with his thumb, that beautiful pressure, slow, insistent, gentle, hard, glorious, until I am pushing back and wanting more.
“Tell me you want this.” His voice is a command against my ear, my head pulled back, tiny hairs snapping against the pressure of his hand.
I have never wanted anything more, and I struggle to find the right words, the words that tell him how turned on I am.
“I need you to fuck me, Brian.” And they are the right words, because a groan is dragged from him that sounds like an animal baying for the moon, and the movement is so swift that I don’t even get a chance to draw in a breath as he plunges his cock into my ass.
I scream somewhere deep inside the core of my being, but my body responds without fear, but with fury, the sensations felt only minutes ago deep in my ass responding to being filled with his cock.
I gyrate my hips to meet his thrusts, he is surprised, I can feel it in his carefulness, but I don’t want to be treated gently, I want him to invade me, I want to feel sore after this, I want him to fill me up and fuck my ass.
And I mutter incessantly, and there is a trickle of sweat moving between my tits, and he is pulling my hair even harder now, so I am almost standing with my pubic bone pressed painfully against his desk, and he is fucking my ass like his life depends on it, and there is only noise and quiet, and sex and passion, and the wet sound as his balls slap against the cum that has already dripped down and out from both our bodies, and he is holding me, his arms wrapped around my waist, and my hair is now free and I know there may be people around, and as I reach that point of not giving a fuck, my whole body erupts into a million individual pieces of complete ecstasy and I feel him pound into me, his whole body ejaculating while he mutters nonsense that I can’t really hear because I have become one single nerve ending that must be strummed, and then I am it, and my body explodes, and I fall against the desk.
I have no idea how long we lay there trying to catch our breath, but he moves first, placing a tender kiss to my shoulder I hear him go into his private bathroom.
I take that time to throw my clothes back on, and grab tissues from his desk drawer to do my best to clean up.
When he comes out of the bathroom, I am trying to get my hair back under control.
He takes my hand and kisses it, a gentle kiss, that snakes to my wrist.
“I hope I haven’t hurt you.” He sounds contrite like I was forced into being a part of the most epic sex I have ever had.
“Brian, everything that happened I wanted it to.” I meet his gaze; his grey eyes are mesmerizing in a way I hadn’t noticed before he delivered the best orgasms of my life.
“You are incredibly sexy.” His mouth finds mine. A gentle kiss, but his body is no longer moulded to mine. “Be careful of wearing your hair down, OK?” It sounds innocent, but I move back to look at him, to find the nuance in what he means.
“You could give old Bill Ruddy a hardon with your hair down like that. I don’t want you coming into work looking like that. Actually, never mind Ruddy - you could give a snowman a hardon.”
I laugh because he has said it, but also because the situation is insane. I have just fucked, and been fucked by my boss, and suddenly my heart sinks. Was this really the wise move?
“Oh, no you don’t. That look screams regrets. We are consenting adults. You wanted this as much as I did.” That clipped Britishness is back, the voice of the man totally in control.
“Of course,” I mutter, feeling all at once bereft.
“I really should get out of here though; I have stuff to do tonight.” I am blabbering now, the only thing I must do tonight is have a very big girl talk with myself about what a bloody fool I have been for the last hour.
In the awkward silence that follows neither of us moves, and it is only when I hear Kevin Kelly walking around whistling that I think to look for my shoes.
I retrieve one shoe from beneath the desk, while Brian watches, and look around to see where the other one could have possibly gotten to.
“Sit down.” He commands, and I look at him like I must be hearing things.
He nods to the chair and more in surprise than compliance I sit.
“I need you to take a letter.” His voice is gruff.
I can’t believe this is happening, but then I have never fucked my boss on his desk, so I have no measure of how these things go.
I sit pen-poised feeling a whirlpool of mixed emotions.
“Dear Ms. Nichols,” he begins, and I wonder if I am being played further.
“This is a contract of expectation and protection which I feel is essential to lay out the ground rules. Rule number one. Never come into my office again without your knickers on. If you do, expect to be punished. Rule number two. Anything that happens in this office is kept strictly between you and I. Rule number three. When I tell you I want you to come and take dictation, I am telling you I want full access to your body, with no restrictions, and no limits. If you don’t wish to participate you can simply say you are too busy to help a colleague out. Rule number four. Until I give you permission do not come into work with your hair down, I do not want others thinking about fucking you.”
I can hear his voice, but my body is flooding with energy, making it a little difficult to concentrate. The man is turning me on to a dangerous level on the Richter scale, and he is sitting three feet away from me.
He senses that I am tuning and out and looks at me with something like shock.
“We are setting ground rules here, Nadine, so neither of us is in any doubt about what’s going on. I am going to need you to concentrate.”
I nod mutely. Is this happening I ask myself.
“Number five. We always treat each other with respect. If this stops working for either of us, we walk away. Number six. If this impacts on our ability to work together we stop it immediately.”
He looks at me expectantly and I wonder if I am supposed to contribute, I am about to ask that question when he resumes speaking.
“Yours sincerely, etc. Nadine, I have not fucked a woman since my wife, and we separated almost a year ago. I have had many opportunities, but no one interested me. The day you came to be interviewed, wearing the killer dress, with the killer resume, and the absolute ice queen professionalism that we had searched for over long months, was the first time in a very long time I felt any urge to see what made a woman tick. But I genuinely do not want this to in any way cause us problems here in work. You are an amazing asset to this company, and sexual chemistry is one thing, keeping your professional integrity is another. So, I really want you to think about this. I know I have. I can’t stop thinking about you, more specifically you the way you were fifteen minutes ago, splayed across my desk with your ass in the air.”
There is a dangerous rush joining in with the throb between my legs and I am wondering if he could make me cum just by talking. I can’t string a sentence together to respond to him, so I sit like I have been struck dumb and hope he will keep speaking for long enough.
“Is this what you want? You need to tell me. Or was it a one-time fuck?” He is waiting for an answer.
“This is what I want.” I barely whisper the words.
He looks a little stressed and I realise that he really has thought about it.
I take my phone from where I dumped it at the far end of his desk when I first came in and go to my gallery. I find the video from Saturday night, and without allowing myself any time to think it through I send it to his phone. I spot my other shoe under the cabinet and stand and retrieve it.
His phone pings and he looks at me quizzically.
“Wait until I have gone. Then look at it. I am trusting you with it, and it should tell you that you are not the only one who has been thinking about this. I will type the contract up, and I will sign it. But right now, I need to leave this office because I really want you to fuck me some more, but I also want to leave you waiting.”
I close the door gently behind me, leaving myself waiting for the next fuck too.
