I momentarily freeze, but as soon as I snap back to reality, I can’t help but sneak a peek back over at the Barbies. Their perfectly lipsticked mouths are still hanging open, as they stare at me in obvious disbelief.
“I’m Asher Marks,” he says, extending a hand for me to shake.
“I…” know, I want to say.
I know. I’ve heard so much about you. Most of it just a few minutes ago, as I was hiding in a bathroom stall.
But I catch myself just in time.
“I am pleased to meet you, Mr. Marks. I’m Madilyn St. Clair.”
“I know,” he says, not bothering to catch himself like I did.
He stares straight at me, as if he’s reading my mind.
“I know who you are,” he repeats.
The chill from this morning returns to me. I remind myself to use good posture and try to sit up straight like him. I feel super uncomfortable and wish I had either gone shopping for a bigger suit or lost a good ten pounds before I started this job. I'm still trying to squeeze into suits from my summer clerking job during law school— when I was thinner— and denying that it's time to upgrade to a bigger size.
Asher continues staring into my eyes, clearly not as concerned with my wardrobe issues as I am. The way he looks at me makes me feel a lot sexier than I feel.
“You're the new associate, and you clerked at Roybal Wilson & Maine last summer. Our firm wasn’t smart enough to snatch you up the first time around. But once I saw your resume during your 3L year, I made sure to rectify the situation.
“You…?” I begin, yet trail off yet again.
Asher Marks saw my resume?
He’s the reason I have this job?
“Well, thank you,” is all I can think of to say.
“Don’t thank me,” he says. “It’s for the good of the firm. We need associates like you around here. I think you’ll do very well.”
I nod my head and look up as Cameron Sanchez, one of the named partners at the firm, approaches the head of the table and starts the meeting. It appears that the purpose is to introduce the new associates, and that means me. I can’t allow myself to slip into fantasy land.
As Mr. Sanchez starts talking, I’m conscious of Asher Marks by my side— and of the fact that the Barbies keep whispering and pointing— but I try not to act as flustered as I feel. There are people to listen to and look at and try to impress, which is my job as a junior associate and so I turn to the task at hand.
Maybe later I’ll think more about Asher— professionally, of course, I chide myself, reminding myself that I can’t be as bad as the Barbies when it comes to mixing work with pleasure— but right now is not the time.
Chapter 8 – Asher
Cameron Sanchez— who I call Ron and who has been with me since I started this firm many years ago— gives his introductory talk about the firm’s history, philosophy and values. I’ve heard this fucking speech many times and it’s not aimed at me. So I keep my attention on Madilyn, who sits beside me taking notes on her laptop.
She’s conscious of my presence. I can feel it. She does a good job of trying to be intent on her note- taking, but she has her tells that let me know that she knows I’m here. She taps her foot now and then before catching herself.
She smooths down her luxurious dark brown hair that I plan to run my fingers through, just as soon as she lets me. And I know she’ll let me. Her hands shake a little bit as she types.
She is everything I love in a woman. Studious, intelligent, confident, yet eager for approval. And sexy as fuck.
I can’t stop staring at her curves. Her black skirt hugs her lovely hips perfectly, just like I plan to. Her blouse reveals just a tiny peak of cleavage but I know she’ll show me more eventually. Her dark brown eyes are inquisitive and curious but they’re also mysteriously beautiful.
When I first sat down next to her, she looked surprised that I know who she is. Then when we started talking she looked even more surprised to find out that I had essentially hired her.
Damn right I do.
Damn right I had.
This is my firm. Some lawyer friends helped me with the logistical details of getting it off the ground and they run the place during my frequent absences— I’m an outdoors guy and can’t stand the confines of a year- round office— but everyone knows that it wouldn’t be a fucking firm without me. None of the partnership shares would be as big.
Nothing gets done without my say so. And no one gets hired without my input.
I wanted to hire Madilyn St. Clair from the moment I saw her resume. I didn’t interview her, but I saw her walk through the office on her way to Ron Sanchez’ office, and I was glad I had listened to my initial gut feeling to bring her in.
I can feel my cock growing hard just from thinking about fucking her. I know everything about her except what she looks like with her naked ass up in the air while I spank it. But that’s about to change.
“And now I’d like to introduce Asher Marks, without whom nothing you see here would be possible,” says Ron, from the front of the conference room. “Asher, I’ll let you take it from here.”
I’m annoyed that my fantasy about Madilyn was interrupted. But I can wait to indulge myself in pleasure until after my business obligations are concluded. My job is calling, and I always do what it takes to answer, even though I’d love to languish in my thoughts of all the things I want to do— and will do— to Madilyn St. Clair.
I stand up and head to the front of the conference room, conscious of some female associates at the far end of one of the tables, who appear to be salivating over me. Candace Smith, Mandy Calderon and Tara Mason.
They were all decent candidates for associates, but none of them are made of the stuff that Madilyn is— intellectually or physically. I don’t want any of them in the same way I want her. Joseph Miller, a mediocre recruit from an out of state law school, sits by them, wanting to do to any of those three girls the same thing that it’s really fucking obvious all of them want me to do to them.
I nod in Joseph’s direction, and he straightens up, a shit eating grin on his face that says, He noticed me.
What I wanted to convey to him with the look I threw him was more along the lines of, Good luck, buddy. They’re all yours.
I pat Ron on the shoulder and he sits down.
“Thank you for that introduction, Cameron,” I say, using his full name that Ron goes by at the firm and with everyone other than his close friends like me. “That was too kind.”
I look out at the audience: twenty- five new associates eager to rise to the top. Some of them eager to get there by any means possible, including, for the female population, being mentored by me, and everything that might entail.
I know that some of them— including Candace, Mandy, and Tara— and maybe Joe, too— would want to be my mentee even if it isn’t a surefire path to partnership or lateraling to another good firm. Which it is— because I make sure it always is— but some just consider the career benefits a bonus and what they’re really after are my domineering ways and my larger than average cock.
I know I have a certain reputation. I like it that way. Nothing happens here that I don’t fucking want and like. Everyone knows that.
What I want right now— and for the foreseeable future— is Madilyn St. Clair. And everyone is about to find that out.
Chapter 9 – Asher
I click a button on the laptop in front of me, which starts a slideshow on the projector above my head.
“Welcome to the law firm of Marks, Sanchez & Reed,” I begin. “Here on the screen you can see our first office. We set up shop in the Northeast Heights when we couldn’t afford downtown real estate and when Albuquerque was only half the size it is now.”
I click a button, and our current building appears on the screen. It’s the tallest one in Albuquerque, and the firm name appears across the top of it.
“While this firm bears my name as first and foremost on its letterhead, I couldn’t have gotten he
re without— as the Beatles say— a little help from my friends.”
I click forward to a photo of me and Ron Sanchez and Jim— whose full name is Jameson— Reed, at a black tie fundraising gala last year. And then to a photo of the three of us twenty years ago, toasting to the news that we had settled a big case and had enough money to move to a new and better office.
“Since childhood I’ve had the knack for entrepreneurship and for making money. This story ages me— if the Beatles reference and talk about historical Albuquerque hasn’t already—”
Everyone laughs. The three female associates at the side table try to sound sexy with their rather obviously forced laughter, while Madilyn sincerely lets loose a good belly chuckle.
“But I started my neighborhood’s first marble ring at age eight,” I continue. “If you wanted a better marble, you traded yours in to the kid who had the one you wanted, and paid him ten cents. Five of it went to him, and five to the ringleaders.”
The laughs continue.
“When times were good— whenever a kid had gotten paid extra for doing an errand around the house, or Grandma came to visit and gave him a quarter— kids improved their marble collection. And when times were bad— when a kid wanted the latest comic book but didn’t have the money, or he was being bullied by some other kid at lunch who required a pay- off to leave him alone— kids sold their marbles to make a little cash. But the house always won. And the ring wouldn’t have been the ring without my other ringleaders.”
I nod at Ron, my closest friend and business partner.
“The rest moved on, moved out of the neighborhood, disappeared. But one of them was Cameron Sanchez. We’re still leading the ring today.”
Everyone claps.
“Thank you for the applause.” I acknowledge. “But my point is that it takes a team of hard working, intelligent and— most of all— trustworthy people to build any organization that’s worthwhile. We find you trustworthy and loyal, and that was one reason that each of you were chosen as associates.”
I look directly at Madilyn. She returns my stare for a second, and then looks down at her laptop. Her cheeks redden slightly. I want her ass cheeks to match them after I get done spanking her.
“There’s a meaning to the fact that all of you are here today. The firm believes in you, and wants you as part of the team. The firm has a very special purpose for each of you.”
Again I look at Madilyn.
I can tell, even with the lights dimmed for the projector presentation and even with her face downcast, that she’s blushing even more now.
She knows I want her. I’ve never been one to hide my desires. And I know she wants me too. She just has to give into her own desire. I have ways to make that happen.
I click a button, and a photo appears on the screen of five guys— one of them being me— on top of a mountain.
“This is my climbing team on top of Mount Everest last summer.”
The crowd gasps. It’s a breathtaking view.
“We got there not right away but little by little, working together and as a team. It’s why I wasn’t here to meet any of you who were clerks last summer. But I did learn valuable lessons to bring back to you. We are all on the same team. We all must do our part. We each must do what is asked of us.”
I stare straight at Madilyn, who shifts her eyes up at me and then back down.
She’s acknowledging that I want her, and silently confirming that she wants me too.
“The concept of teamwork, of working together and helping each other, is why I started the associate mentoring program,” I continue.
I can see the three women sitting at the end of the table straighten up. Undoubtedly, they’ve heard of this program. They know that whichever associate is my mentor also becomes my lover. And they all want to be that associate.
And that’s why they won’t be. Because they’re too fucking eager. I hate easy targets. I like a challenge.
I look at Madilyn and continue.
“Your mentors will find you later this afternoon and set up an initial appointment,” I tell the room. “The rest of today’s orientation will be about office procedures such as billing, using the brief bank, working on assignments, using the firm software and computers and the like.”
Everyone continues taking notes even though the meeting is over. Everyone hangs on my every word. Especially the girls who think I’m going to choose one of them as my mentee. But they’re wrong. Because I only want Madilyn.
“There are a lot of useful practical things you’ll be learning in these first few days and weeks,” I continue. “But your meetings with your mentors will be where you get into the heart and soul of practicing law, so make this first one count. Your mentor will be your coach, your guide, and your guru. It is my hope that these relationships will serve you well throughout your associateship here at Marks, Sanchez & Reed.”
Everyone waits with baited breath. They want to find out who their mentors are. And, perhaps even more importantly to some of them, who my mentee is.
I smile, knowing that I’ve teased them long enough.
“Monique has a list of mentors matched with mentees that she will pass out now before starting the portion of orientation that deals with payroll and benefits. There isn’t much rhyme or reason to why mentors were paired with mentees, since we don’t know much about you yet, and we only hope to be able to make some good guesses based on stated interests and goals.”
The three women in the front are whispering to each other, and it’s obvious they don’t believe me. They know that my mentee is carefully chosen ahead of time, as are many of the others. But some are assigned randomly, and it’s best to stress that part so that there are no accusations of favoritism or unfairness.
“Without further ado, I’ll leave you in the good hands of Monique.”
Everyone looks disappointed, but I couldn’t help one last tease, before I make my big announcement. Here it comes, and only one person is going to like it.
At least, she better like it. And if she doesn’t now, she will come to like it. Because I’ll be very good at persuading her.
“I’ll be leaving for the rest of the day. I’ve got client business to attend to and you’ll soon learn that the practice of law never stops. But before I go, I’m pleased to announce that my mentee this year is Madilyn St. Clair. I’m happy with the assignment, and I hope that all of you will be just as pleased with yours.”
I can hear Tara Mason’s gasp as I walk towards the exit. She covers her mouth, but whispers to Mandy. Annoying tendencies such as these are one of the many reasons I would never choose her as my mentee.
I look at Madilyn and raise my eyebrows. She’s staring straight back at me, as if taking me up on the challenge.
There’s nothing I like better than a challenge. It’s why I’d choose a Madilyn over a Tara— or anyone in her crew— a thousand times over. And as if showing me just how much of a challenge she’s going to be, Madilyn lowers her eyes once again.
But I know she’s heard my message loud and clear— I’ve made sure of it, by delivering it in front of a room full of her peers— and now it’s up to her to respond to my cues.
For extra effect, I drop a folded piece of stationery paper in front of her before leaving the room.
If she is the woman I think she is, then she will be mine for the taking.
And I have never been wrong about this sort of thing.
My knack for women is as good as my knack for entrepreneurialism and money making. It hasn’t always been this way— my knowledge for what women want wasn’t as ingrained in me since childhood like the marble ring or other business ventures I started at a young age.
I had to learn the hard way, to move from what I know I didn’t want to what I know I do want. But once I realized it, I’ve been as right about women as I have been about business and the law.
And I know enough about women to know that, one way or another, Madilyn St. Clair is going to be mine.
&
nbsp; Chapter 10 – Madilyn
I tell myself not to open the note until orientation is over but I can’t help myself. But as Monique explains HR and billing policies that I already know from my boring early morning hours sitting in Cubicle Hell in front of my computer, it begins to feel as if the note is burning a hole on the conference room table in front of me.
I can see that the Barbies are almost as anxious for me to open the note as I am. I also notice, once Monique passes around the list of mentors, that they don’t seem too pleased with their assigned mentors.
They keep sneaking glances over at me and talking amongst themselves. Telling myself that I want them to strain their necks trying to look at what the note says, I finally open the folded- over piece of paper. Honestly, though, I can’t stand the anticipation any longer myself.
The stationery is fancy; the old- fashioned kind that no one ever even uses anymore. The initials ACM are embossed on it, and at the top, it says:
From the desk of Asher Charles Marks, Esquire.
The note is short and simple.
Madilyn,
Come to my office after orientation to receive instructions for your first training session.
- Asher.
My heart jumps up into my throat. The note sounds professional enough, but there’s an undertone to it that makes it a bit personal. Especially that last part.
My first training session?
Remembering that all eyes are on me— or at least those belonging to the Barbies and their little Ken Doll friend— I close the note and then type some gibberish on my laptop. I want to make it look like I’m taking notes from Asher’s note.
I want them to think I’m already being assigned big, important tasks, even though I know they think that I’m supposed to be Asher’s new sex slave or something. But I’ve only been chosen to be his professional mentee. And that’s all I’d ever agree to be, anyway.
Right? I can’t help but ask myself.
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