by Nina Nauheim
His eyes sought out Ms. Lancet. Her return expression was one of approval. 'You did well,' her eyes said. 'I can make things like this happen for you if we keep that trust.'
Peter stayed with Ms. Lancet that night, and her soft attentions after her friends had gone soothed and perfectly completed the intense experiences of the evening. Falling asleep on the loveseat beside her bed bed felt like this most perfect and right thing Peter had ever experienced, and spent the night dreaming of what else was in store.
This concludes His' Boss's Plaything. But the end of one book certainly doesn't mean the ride is over!
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The hallways of the Edelman-Carter Research Institute were always full of people who thought they were headed to the most important meeting in the world. The place certainly had a certain prestigue, I could give it that. But the people there really took themselves a bit too seriously, and when things went wrong they were sure to let you hear it. When I started interning there, they all seemed to think I was there to be a slave, instead of pick up a nice juicy line on my resume and get by without working too hard.
Even the woman who hired me, an HR rep, tried to reinforce that idea from the start. She told me, "Jump when they say to jump, run when they say to run, and keep your ears open. You might just meet the sort of person who can make or break your chances in this field." It was like I was supposed to be worshipping the ground they all walked on.
Well, I didn't just dismiss her advice out of hand. I took it into consideration, but a guy like me who's headed for the top just really doesn't mesh well with the whole "worship your superiors" mentality, and it didn't always go swimmingly. I got transferred a couple times until most of what I was doing was little office tasks, getting coffee, making sure visiting researchers found their way around the building, and that sort of thing. I didn't get a two hundred thousand dollar education to fetch coffee, but I kept my mouth shut for the most part.
Besides, working with the secretaries and personal assistants put me in the mix with a lot more women than you found in the labs. There was a secretary of a researcher on the second floor who had the nicest tits I'd ever seen, and if I could just get a little more face time with her, maybe I could make something happen.
It was on a morning sometime into my second week in the new department when I was asked to make a few hundred copies of a packet of papers. The papers were a handout for a conference starting in less than twenty minutes, but was it my fault the copier had jammed twice on me? But still, I had a funny feeling who was going to get a talking to if the papers didn't get to where they needed to be on time.
"Hold the door, would you?"
I groaned inwardly and looked up to see who was going to make me late. I froze. My breath caught in my chest. Recognition flooded my brain in a hot, pounding rush. I was almost too taken aback to react. She was maybe the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. A labcoat hung loosely around a tight blouse and skirt combination that hugged a pair of firm breasts and an elegant, proportioned body. Her hair was lush an dark and her eyes had a sort of piercing invitation in them that I didn't know how to react to. She seemed both unapproachable and yet incredibly, irresistibly sensual in every little move she made.
With a ding, the doors started to close. I let out a startled gasp and lunged to catch them, spilling my papers and almost falling out of the elevator myself. I threw out a hand to catch the smooth metal and found myself staring down at a pair of black stillettoes. Slowly, I looked up.
"Jesus," the shoes exclaimed, stepping forward and putting a hand out to catch me. It was such a surprisingly commanding grip that I found myself yielding to it and following its direction without thinking.
"Are you alright?"
I looked up and mouthed an unintelligible syllable. Her expression was a mixture of surprise and slight derision. It seemed a very unnatural emotion on her face, as though she wasn't surprised often. In a flash, I realized who she was. She had been in the newspaper last month for her work here.
"So sorry," I managed breathlessly. "I – you're Dr. Elby. I meant to catch the door –"
"Flattering," she said, helping me to straighten up. Her hand lingered for an instant before it pulled away. "It's rarer and rarer these days for someone to try to kill themselves to save me a ten second wait. Do you think you've got yourself back under control?"
I wobbled and nodded, backing away as she released my arm. She stepped around me into the elevator as I hurried to pull together the fallen papers in the hallway before the doors began to close again. I managed to squeeze inside just before they shut, and shifted breathlessly to the far corner of the elevator compartment.
She looked up at the changing floor number and glanced over at me with a hint of boredom on her face. Her eyes seemed to linger for a moment, tracing their way down my body in a brazen, almost challenging way. I felt a warm flush come into my cheeks as I stared abashedly forward at the closed doors.
When her eyes left me, I couldn't help looking down at myself, trying to think what she found so interesting about me.
An amused smile came to her lips as she saw my self-consciousness. "If those are the reference sheets for the Gardner talk you're not going to get them there in time," she said.
"What?"
She indicated the stack of papers I had clasped against my chest.
"Oh, right," I said, my stomach sinking as the reason for my previous urgency returned, "I know. The copier damn jammed twice trying to get them printed." I shook my head, trying to seem cool and unruffled.
I looked up to see Dr. Elby considering me. "They don't fire you for something like that," she said.
I shrugged and nodded. "Well, I certainly shouldn't be. It's hardly my fault all the printers are pieces of junk. I'm just the minimum wage grunt who was dumb enough to think he'd be doing actual science when he took a job here." But I trailed off, realizing that what I was saying might come across as a bit petty and resentful.
"So you work in Dr. Gardner's office?"
"Yeah, I got transferred down a couple weeks."
"And your name?"
"Calvin Stowe."
"You seem too young to be a post-doc."
"Yeah, I'm just an intern."
"Is that so?"
"Yep."
She ran a finger along the smooth line of her neck thoughtfully. "You've graduated college, though, haven't you?"
"Yeah, this past May. I'm finishing my first semester at the medical school."
She nodded thoughtfully. "You know, I've been in the planning stages of a new project that's going to need additional help. How long is your internship?"
The doors dinged open at the ground floor, but I didn't move. This could be what I had been waiting for. Finally some recognition.
Almost without thinking, she guided me out of the doors with a firm hand against the small of my back. "What I mean is, I might have a very special position for someone like you. Would coming to work in my office be something you might consider?"
"I would," I agreed. "I certainly would. It can't be worse than the errands they've got me running now."
She gave me another appraising look, up and down, and I felt a slight flush come into my face. There was something vaguely emasculating about the way she looked at me. "Well, I'll keep you in mind then. Chris, was it?"
"Calvin."
"Calvin, then. Well, maybe something will work out. Have a nice day."
She turned toward the front atrium where several men in impeccable suits were waiting for her. I
watched her, unable to look away, until she had moved out of sight.
With vague resentment, I remembered the papers I was supposed to be delivering and turned back towards the main auditorium. I got there late, of course, and ended up just leaving the stack of papers on a shelf in the back of the auditorium while everybody followed the lecture.
It was a couple hours later that my boss found me. She was a relatively young woman, still in her early-thirties probably, with blonde hair and a very good body.
"Calvin, do you think this is acceptable?" she started.
I shrugged. "The copier jam-"
"That's not the point," she cut me off. "I'm done putting up with this. You're too incompetent for me bother putting up with your attitude and your … inappropriate behavior."
"What do you mean by that?"
"What do I mean? I heard about the comments you made to Sasha last week."
I winced.
"Talking about my ass is completely unacceptable. Hitting on a coworker is unacceptable. You're lucky no one's bothered to register a formal complaint, but you're just not worth the paperwork. One day someone's going to change their mind about that."
I tried to play it cool. "Well, you can act offended, but we both know you kind of like that I noticed. I tell you what: I'll stop talking about it if you really want me to. I can enjoy a good show in silence."
She looked at me with ill-contained frustration.
"You know I had a very interesting conversation with Sandra Elby earlier this afternoon."
"Oh, yeah, we talked in the elevator."
"Mmhmm, right. It sounds like you might be a good fit to work under her."
I nodded. "She said something about that."
"Well why don't we make it official, then. You can be her problem from now on."
I laughed. "Fine by me."
She seemed to think that sending me to participate in newsworthy research was some kind of punishment, after she'd had me pushing stacks of paper and office equipment around for two weeks.
As I turned to leave, she watched me go with a strangely smug expression on her face. I chose not to worry about it, and made my way up to the third floor where I knew Dr. Elby's lab was located.
Continued…
Gender Swap Clinic
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