Her life had fallen back into her old routine; yoga before dinner, and wine and a book at bedtime. She worked Saturday, and she and Mandy had dinner together Saturday night, but it wasn’t the same. Kaitlyn stared at her food, and thought of Ben. They complained to each other about men, and how they hadn’t heard from their guys. Sunday was the afternoon spent with her parents, as usual. She went to bed early Sunday night, mentally exhausted from unrequited thoughts of Ben.
* * *
Monday morning she was called into the human resources office. A job had opened up on the fifth floor, and she was on the short list of candidates. She and one other junior associate were being considered for the job of assistant to the new acting partner at Aronson and Cohen.
“Who is the new partner?” she wondered, as she took her employment file and placed it on her lap without peeking.
“Levi Aronson’s son Ruben,” she was informed. “You have the best resume and employment record. I’m sure you’ll get the job. It would include a considerable pay raise, of course. Mr. Aronson will see you now. His office is on the fifth floor.”
“Thank you,” she said as she left the office. She was glad she got up early that morning and spent time on her appearance; not that she ever appeared sloppy for work. Sometimes she just tried harder than others.
No one went to the fifth floor besides partners, their assistants, and the executive secretaries, except of course for the mail clerks. They even had their own separate entrance and elevators. The people who occupied the unobtainable fifth floor were rarely seen by the peons underneath. She was nervous just pushing the button.
She was stunned when she exited the elevator. It was like a whole different building. A professional obviously designed the décor, with wine colored leather couches and chairs in the waiting area, and abstract paintings on every wall. She approached the receptionist, who looked as if she was already tired of Kaitlyn, and she hadn’t even spoken yet.
“My name is Kaitlyn Morgan. I’m here to see Mr. Aronson,” she said politely.
The older and very professional woman pointed down a hallway. “It’s down that way and to your left; the last office.”
Kaitlyn nodded and headed that way. She was so nervous she had to pee. She wished she’d gone on the second floor. She was almost afraid to ask the receptionist where the bathroom was.
She stood at an open doorway. Across the threshold an intimidating office awaited her. He had a sweeping view of the city, she noted. The desk sat between the windows and the door, and the chair was spun around, facing outside. The desk itself appeared to be an antique, but a very modern cream colored couch sat against one wall, joined by an antique coffee table and two leather seats facing it. A wet bar occupied the other wall, and by the open door was a fireplace. His office had a fucking fireplace. She could see no personal items; no pictures. She didn’t even know Mr. Aronson had a son.
She stood awkwardly in the doorway, wondering if she should knock, until she heard his voice. It was a voice like dark honey, like crushed velvet. She would know that voice anywhere.
It hit her like a meteor. Her knees began to shake. Her right eye started to twitch. She suddenly couldn’t breathe. She wondered what she should do. She thought of running all the way to HR and informing them she didn’t need a promotion, and oh, by the way, she needed to turn in her resignation as well, then running out of the building screaming NO! at the top of her lungs.
He said goodbye to the person on the phone, and swiftly turned the chair around, as if he finally noticed someone was there. A bright smile covered his face when he realized who was behind the pencil thin navy skirt, navy and green striped shirt, and blue blazer. “How did you find me?” His voice was enthusiastic, hopeful.
And he looked so damn good. She knew now what Mandy meant by her text. If she’d seen a guy walk into the restaurant looking like Ruben Aronson did just then, she’d have heart failure. His curly dark hair was tamed with some sort of styling gel, and pushed back off his handsome face. He wore a white shirt, dark grey slacks, a medium grey vest, and a dark grey and light grey checked tie. The dark grey jacket hung on the back of his chair. He was smooth shaven, and he looked younger, yet more intimidating at the same time. The worst part, was that she knew what his body looked like underneath the suit. Her muscles clenched as she thought about it.
She couldn’t answer for a full minute. Her lips quivered. He stood and walked toward her, led her into the office, and shut the door behind her. “I don’t care how you did it. Did you come to apologize? I’ve missed you.” He grabbed her hand and laced their fingers together, then led her to the couch.
As soon as he sat down she took a step away, breaking his grasp. She turned away from him, trying to compose herself. Short of saying nothing and running, she couldn’t think of any way out of this situation; except for the obvious. She cleared her throat, turned toward him, and handed him her file. “I’m Kaitlyn Morgan,” she said.
He continued to smile as his eyes squinted up, and slightly shook his head. “I don’t understand.”
She bit her lip and decided that running was the best option. She turned again on her expensive heels, and was ready to escape, when he grabbed her wrist and held her there.
“Who is Kaitlyn Morgan?” He had her file open in his lap, glancing through it. “She’s one of the junior associates applying to be my assistant,” he finally realized.
“It’s me,” she said.
“What’s you?” He still didn’t understand what was happening.
“I’m the junior associate,” she said with a little more authority.
“You’re a…” His face fell as fast as she was sure hers did when she recognized his voice. She watched him put the puzzle together in his head. “Your name is Lyn.”
“Kaitlyn,” she said. “My dad sometimes calls me Lyn. Everyone else calls me Kaity.”
He released her hand and shook his head as he looked more closely at her file. “First in your class at UVA,” he said.
“Yes,” she replied.
“First in your class at William & Mary Law School,” he continued.
“Yes,” she agreed, uncomfortably.
“You studied International Law,” he added. She said nothing. “You minored in German.”
“Ja,” she said.
He grimaced when he finally looked up at her. “Well, aren’t you perfect?”
She had no idea how to answer that question. “My parents think I’m pretty special.”
He frowned at her attempt at levity. “Your employment file is impeccable.” He spat out the words as if they were hard to say.
“I had no idea either. You told me your name was Ben Key.” Her voice was raised again, and she took a moment to tone it down. “You have no right to be angry at me. You lied just as much as I did.”
“You’re right,” he said, as he snapped the folder together and handed it back to her. “I obviously can’t hire you to be my assistant. You can return your file to HR. I’ll ask them to send up the next candidate. This will not reflect poorly on your record.”
“Thank you,” she sighed, relieved. She never thought she’d be so happy not to get a promotion. She smiled at him happily as she turned and exited the room.
In the split second it took her to smile down at him, he changed his mind. He quickly called HR to inform them he’d chosen Ms. Morgan to be his assistant, and she should report to the fifth floor the next morning. He wondered how happy she’d be when she found out she’d be working with him every day.
“I don’t think I’ll get the job,” she said as she handed over her file.
“Mr. Aronson called while you were on your way down. He wants you to report to him tomorrow morning.” The woman smiled at Kaitlyn as she gave her the good news.
“That’s great,” she said through a fake smile. “Thank you so much.” Inside she was fuming. She couldn’t decide whether to confront him then quit, or return to her office and cry. Instead she did what she should
have done days ago. She returned to her tiny office, picked up her phone, dialed a number, and sobbed, “Mom?”
* * *
“Don’t you dare let him win,” Sarah Morgan said as they ate cheesecake at the corner deli. “You didn’t get where you are now by letting people intimidate you.”
Her mother was right. She stood up to bullies in elementary school, protested the dress code in middle school, and fought against mandatory drug testing in high school. Why was she letting Ruben Aronson get under her skin? Because he was a partner, and her new boss, that’s why. She of course didn’t tell her mother she’d had sex with Ben – Ruben. And she would die before she discussed her sex life, or lack thereof, with Alex.
“You know this could have all been avoided if you’d just introduced yourself as a lawyer when you met the man. Why are so ashamed of what you do?” Sarah wondered. She smiled as she gazed at her mother. It was like looking into a mirror image of herself in twenty-five years. She looked just like her.
“You don’t understand. Besides the fact that everyone hates lawyers and my profession is the punch line of jokes, men are intimidated by what I do.” Kaitlyn shrugged.
“What about Alex?” she questioned, as she looked into her daughter’s eyes. Kaitlyn looked away, thought about the question for a moment, and looked back. Before she could answer, her mother laughed. “You’re the worst liar ever, Kaity. You’ll never win at trial.”
“I didn’t even say anything!” Kaitlyn’s voice went up several octaves, and her mother smirked and raised one eyebrow up in doubt. “How can it be a lie if I didn’t even answer yet?”
“You were thinking of a lie, and that’s all I needed to know,” Sarah stated proudly. “Now tell me about Alex.”
“No, I refuse,” Kaitlyn stated stubbornly, and pushed her half eaten cheesecake away.
“Still the same old Kaitlyn, stubborn as a mule,” her mother chuckled.
“Okay, truth?” Sarah nodded. “I never see him. I mean, when I went to the club I asked him to come with me. He said he was studying. What guy studies every Friday and Saturday night, but seems to always have Sundays available? And that’s usually because I buy him dinner on Sundays, like clockwork.”
“He’s a med student,” her mother argued. She’d told herself the same thing over and over.
“But every weekend, mom?” Kaitlyn whined. “And now he’s at some “basketball camp” for two weeks.” She even used air quotes to emphasize how little she believed him.
Sarah was thoughtful for several moments. “If you’re not happy with him, dump him.”
“I thought you liked him,” Kaitlyn continued, still sounding like a bratty teenager.
“I do, but sweetheart, your happiness is much more important.” Sarah patted her daughter’s hand. “And I wouldn’t want you to spend the rest of your life with a cheating, lying, SOB. I mean, you could end up having to defend me in a murder trial if that happened.”
Kaitlyn smiled brightly at that comment. She pulled the cheesecake back to her placemat, and finished it off.
Chapter Seven
“Here is the Lost Park/National merger information, Ms. Morgan. I’d like an initial report by the end of the day,” Ben said, as he pointed to a box of file folders beside his desk.
“I didn’t come up here to report for the job.” After her mom’s pep talk, she’d almost believed she could work with him. But when she saw him standing there, in a navy suit with a navy and burgundy diagonal stripped tie, she knew she couldn’t work for him. He was far too remote, haughty even. And the tone of his voice was almost contemptuous. “I don’t want this to become a pissing contest between us. I know you’ll win. Can I just wave the white flag now, and go back to my old job?”
As he thought for a second, he placed his finger on his bottom lip. She knew how it felt to kiss those lips, and get lost in that kiss. She tried not to, but she shivered. “No,” he answered finally.
She couldn’t hide her feelings of defeat. Her shoulders slumped, and her head tilted to one side.
“You’re a lawyer. Grow a spine.” His terse tone continued. “There’s an empty office next door. I expect you to be moved up here before tomorrow morning.”
She thought again about her conversation with her mother the evening before. Could she take the challenge that he had issued? She picked up the banker’s box, and carried it into the office he indicated. It contained a very modern glass desk with a state of the art desktop computer and huge monitor, and a glass and steel bookshelf. A soft grey couch sat by one wall, with a glass coffee table in front of it. On the opposite wall was a fireplace surrounded by grey tile.
Her office on the second floor had a hand-me-down discount desk, and a chair that felt like it had been around since the Second World War. “Feel free to decorate however you want,” he said as he casually stood in the doorway, sipping a cup of coffee. “After you hand in your initial report.”
She thought she heard him chuckle as he walked away. She certainly hoped he was enjoying this.
Promptly at a quarter after four, she stood at his door and wondered if she should knock. He sat on the couch reviewing a case file. His tie was gone, and his shirt was unbuttoned. His unruly hair had overpowered the styling product he’d used, and the ends began to curl toward his face. He looked even more handsome than he did that first night. And she remembered what happened that evening. Alcohol was involved, she reminded herself, as she knocked on the door.
“Hello, Ms. Morgan,” he said as he waved her into his office. She stepped in and approached the couch. She stood about three feet from him. She’d removed her jacket as well several hours ago, and the sleeves of her light blue oxford were rolled up to her elbows. “The color suits you,” he said, as he glanced up at her before he returned his attention to the file. “It matches your eyes.” Although his words were nice, his tone hadn’t changed, so it felt more like a complaint than a compliment.
“Thank you,” she said anyways, as she handed him the folder.
“I’ll review it later,” he said as he pointed at the table in front of the couch. She placed it gently where he indicated, and turned round.
He watched her walk away. How did she hide her delectable body in such a sensible outfit? Her red hair was tied up in a ponytail, and it bounced as she walked, much like her tits bounced when she danced.
He smiled at the memory, scratched at his ear, and returned to the file.
* * *
She worked until five-thirty, moving her personal and work items up to the fifth floor. She still felt weird pushing the button, even after doing it a dozen times. The last time she exited the elevator, Ben, or Ruben, waited on it. She smiled at him politely as she walked past.
“Good job on the report, Ms. Morgan,” he said without emotion.
“Thanks,” she replied, as she glanced up at him. He carried his jacket and the tie over his shoulder. His hair tumbled onto his forehead, but her gaze fixated on his lips. She had to fight the urge to kiss him.
“Have a good night,” he called back as he entered the elevator.
“You too,” she sighed. She walked dejectedly to her new office. Why in the hell did she feel like she’d just been dumped?
She arranged her family pictures on the shelves, and her alma mater mug that doubled as her pencil holder on her desk. Then she placed her small plant on the bookshelf near the window. She smiled at it wistfully as she stood by the door ready to leave, because having her new office was bittersweet.
As she moved to flick the light switch, she saw him approach. Her eyes grew wide as he walked closer. And when he was so close they almost touched, she exhaled longingly.
He moved closer still, until she felt his warm breath on her ear. “I can’t act like I don’t want you any longer today.” He pushed an errant strand of red hair over her ear.
Her lips parted of their own accord as she stared at the muscles straining at his neck. His jaw tightened, and his eyes closed, but he refused to make an
other move until she responded. His brow furrowed, and his full lips tightened into a straight line as he waited. “Fine, I’ll go.”
He moved away ever so slightly. It felt like a million tiny cuts on her heart. “Wait.” She took a step into her new office, and he followed and shut the door behind him.
When they were alone, she expected to be besieged by an onslaught of kisses and caresses. It didn’t happen. He took a seat on the couch, casually crossing his legs, but his eyes didn’t leave hers. A challenge lingered there, she’d felt it for the last two days. And she was sure he didn’t want to lose. “Make me believe you want me too.”
She had to control her reaction. She took in one breath, then another. If she giggled he’d promptly get up and walk out. If she said the wrong thing, he’d do the same. So she decided not to talk. She never said the right thing anyway.
She removed her jacket, and threw it onto the glass table. She slowly unbuttoned her shirt, and dropped it to reveal a lacy, light blue bra.
He inhaled loudly, and uncrossed his legs. His hips flexed. His erection was unbearable. He pushed against it with the heel of his hand, trying to find a comfortable position for it, but failed miserably. She kicked off her expensive navy pumps. At least now he knew how she afforded her shoe fetish. Then her skirt was on the floor. She bent forward to step out of it, and placed it neatly by her jacket on the table. Her lacy, light blue panties matched her bra.
She stood there uneasily for several moments, allowing him to stare at her. Her cheeks were as red as her hair. Still he didn’t move to her, he needed her to move to him. She did eventually, tiptoeing toward him as if they were teenagers in her bedroom, and she was trying not to wake her parents.
He thought she might sit down beside him, but he was wrong. She put one knee on the couch, slung the other over his thighs, and straddled him, resting her rear on his thighs. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled in closer, her breasts touching his chest, to whisper in his ear. “Please don’t steal these panties. They’re a matching set.”
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