by Abby Wilkes
I shake my head. "No. I’m just a freshman… I’ll go back to college.”
“Of course,” he says, as if he’s temporarily forgotten my status. "Well, I'm sure you won't have too much trouble getting your foot in the door once you graduate. You’ll get an excellent reference from us for sure.”
He says it with a matter of fact tone that makes it sound less like a compliment. It's just a statement with so little enthusiasm one might almost think he regrets saying it.
I thank him again and excuse myself to get back to work. Somehow, the atmosphere between us has taken a very weird turn. Intimidating and enticing at the same time. Yet, I could enjoy it a lot more if it wasn't Mr. Cooper, my boss who is about twenty years my senior and completely out of my league in too many ways.
Still, my heart wouldn’t calm down that day, even hours after I left his office.
Chapter 4
Lacey
Just as promised, the entire office gathers on late Thursday afternoon to celebrate the completion of my internship. I’m nervous the entire day and took extra care about my looks this morning. I spent so much effort on my make-up, hair, and the selection of my outfit that it doesn't go unnoticed by anyone, but the compliments just add up to my nervousness. I somehow wish everybody wouldn't make such a big deal out of it, and yet I’m the one who accelerates it by showing up as if I’m going out for a date. I’m wearing my favorite and most expensive white silk blouse and a tight black pencil skirt that ends just above my knees, accompanied by black pumps that are usually reserved for dates or special occasions. I regret my choice of shoes already. I hardly ever wear heels, and now I remember why. My feet hurt. Why all this effort?
I even made muffins. I rarely ever cook or bake, but for some reason I decided that today would be a good day to bring muffins for everyone.
Mr. Cooper loves them. He’s one of many who compliments me on my appearance today, unobtrusively and perfectly appropriate in the way he says it, but still my heart flutters, accompanied by warnings.
Where is this sudden obsession with my boss coming from? I’ve always found him attractive, but this last week has seen me outright nervous and giddy like a little girl any time he’s near me. And I can't help but notice that he’s looking extra sharp today as well.
Maybe. Those two words.
Good girl.
They touched my heart—and they caused my core to tingle with desire. What is this?
"So, what did you think of that pitch last week?" Someone interrupts my heated stream of thoughts. It's Ms. Kingsley, who somehow emerged next to me without me realizing.
"Oh, it was great," I hastily reply. "Very informative. And you did great. I hope to be able to come up with a project like that someday."
"And catch the big fish, huh?" Ms. Kingsley asks.
I nod. "Must have been pretty great. To land an account like that on your first try."
She nods and takes a sip from her glass of champagne, causing me to imitate the motion, even though I feel tipsy already. So many people wanted to clink glasses with me. I must be on my third already—and I’m a lightweight when it comes to alcohol.
"Yes, it does," Ms. Kingsley eventually says. "It really does. He's a great… client."
"I can imagine," I mumble, unsure of what else to say.
Luckily, Ms. Kingsley seems to feel the same way and just showed up to be nice. She excuses herself and vanishes to talk to someone else.
I remain alone, somehow standing a bit offside, even though the gathering is in my honor. I feel as if Mr. Cooper just uses occasions like this one to bring his employees closer, let them relax and have a little fun while at work. A smart move, if you ask me. Especially since he’s the one who provides plenty of drinks for everyone.
As if he sensed that his name appeared in my thoughts, Mr. Cooper approaches me with a bottle of champagne in one hand and his half empty glass in the other.
"Lacey, this is your day and your glass is almost empty. How can we let that happen?" he says, offering to refill my glass.
"Oh, I already had quite a bit," I utter, but he beckons for me to raise my glass.
"That's okay, I'm just trying to get rid of the rest in this bottle," he says in such a low voice that only I can hear it. "It's the last bottle, and I'm trying to get people to leave and go home."
He casts me a conspiratorial smile and I oblige and raise my glass for him to empty the bottle in it. I lack self-control when it comes to these things. I don't really want to drink anymore, but this champagne tastes so good and I know I’ll want to finish it as long as there’s something in my glass.
Luckily, there's not much left in the bottle anyway.
"Thank you," I say as Mr. Cooper refills my glass.
"No, thank you, Lacey," he says, placing the empty bottle on a table next to us and raising his glass to me. "Thank you for your excellent work here."
I clink glasses with him, but blush and shy away right afterward.
"This agency made it easy for me," I say. "So many talented and nice people. I learned a lot and I’m more convinced than ever that this is the field for me."
"Good, good," Mr. Cooper says, casting me a fatherly smile. "That's what internships are for, after all."
I guess so. Of course, they are also good for cheap labor, but I can't say that to him.
"We were lucky to have you," Mr. Cooper adds. "You know, we've had many interns here before, even during my short time. Girls like you are hard to find."
"Good girls?" I hear myself say—and regret it immediately.
What the hell, Lacey?!
Understandably, Mr. Cooper casts me a suspicious look.
I don't know if it’s the alcohol—it most definitely is—but for some reason I decide that I need to know. I need to know if there's something. If I’m imagining this tension between us or if it’s really there. There must have been a reason for him to say what he said earlier.
I just need to know.
We look at each other. Eyes fixated, both searching for an unspoken answer. His eyes are so dark; I never noticed how dark they are. The gray almost turns to black in the right light. It does not necessarily make them easier to read.
Finally, after moments of starring in awkward silence, he decides to speak.
"Good girls, yes," he whispers. "They are hard to find. Very… rare."
I stare back at him, incapable of speaking. Yes, there is something. I’m not imagining it. The air between us is sizzling, charged with sexual energy. We are standing close to each other, close enough to feel each other's body warmth. I feel an urgent desire to touch him, or to be touched by him. My heart is racing, drowning all warnings and aching for a kind of excitement and sensation that’s completely new to me.
I’ve never felt this way. I’ve never had the time or the mind to feel this way. Good grades and success don’t come without a price. There’s a reason why I’m still a virgin.
He makes me feel things I didn’t think I was capable of feeling.
And I can tell that he feels the same way.
Yet, there’s nothing we can—or should—do about it.
"Stop that breathing," he whispers. "It’s driving me insane."
I gasp. "Wha—"
"Lacey!" Someone yells my name.
It's Beth, one of the girls from the creative department. She’s not much older than me and has just escaped the terrible inter phase of graduation, internships, and job hunting by landing this job. She’s been my lunch buddy for most days and has also become a sort of mentor for me.
"We need to go out!" she exclaims as she comes to a halt next to me. Obviously, I’m not the only one who’s had quite a few glasses of champagne already. Beth's cheeks are glowing and her smile is even wider than usual.
"Go out?" I ask, trying to focus and get back to earth.
Mr. Cooper is standing next to us, calmly observing the scene without saying a word. I wonder if he’s bothered or relieved—because I sure as hell cannot decide which
one I’m leaning towards.
"Yes, celebrate!" Beth says. "Or well… you know, properly say goodbye. Maybe tomorrow night?"
I nod. "Yes, sure. Why not."
"You know, since we all have to work tomorrow," she says, side-eyeing Mr. Cooper. "Today wouldn't be much fun."
Mr. Cooper chuckles.
"She’s right," he says, his voice as calm and confident as ever. "You wouldn't want to ruin our good impression of you on your last day, right?"
Again, he gives me one of those weirdly intimate winks, causing me to blush and seek help at the bottom of my drink.
Chapter 5
Erik
Well, that was interesting. I was just testing the water in the most innocent way I could think of, and little Lacey took the bait right away. The way she looked at me, the way her breathing changed instantly.
There’s a submissive nymph hidden beneath all that goody-goody attire.
Why else would she react the way she did? Why else would she show up looking like this today? Of course, she knew all eyes would be on her for a few hours—but I wonder if mine were the ones she truly cared for. Did she dress up like this for me?
If so, it worked. She looks so damn delicious in that tight skirt and that well-fitting blouse, my mind is playing havoc with the dirty ideas that outdo one another in a horny turmoil.
She needs to become mine. There’s only a question of how and when.
I have strict rules on these kinds of things. Don’t shit in your own nest—don’t get involved with women at work. That’s always been my credo, and I’ve always acted accordingly. I know about the effect I have on women, and they come to me like a moth to flame, even without me trying for anything. It comes naturally to a man like me, and it does get boring, which is why it’s never been that hard for me to reject any woman from the office. They were too eager, too easy, and most of them didn’t see a man when they looked at me, but a bank account.
Lacey is different. When she looked at me, she looked at me like a woman should look at a man. With curiosity, appreciation, and need.
She’s so fucking delicious. But she’s also off limits. For now.
A taboo.
But she’s a new kind of taboo, not only because she’s my intern, but also because of her young age. It’s not what I would usually go after, but I find myself incapable of resisting her charm. The fact that she wants me, but is restrained by her own convictions, only makes it worse.
I know she won’t leave my head until I’ve had her. This is a real dilemma, because I’m not a man who lets himself be hunted by a woman for long.
I take what I want. Always.
I bring the party to an end and watch as she dutifully follows her task in cleaning the area, even though it was her own party. She’s not drunk, but has a good buzz going from all the champagne she was forced to drink with all those people trying to clink glasses with her. I do feel a little bad about refilling her glass at a point when she probably should have stopped drinking altogether.
But the guilt is soon overtaken by the images that appear in front of my eyes as I imagine her on her knees, her clothes ripped apart, her pussy drooling with need, and her blue eyes glued on me, begging for me to take her.
I know I could make this happen. She didn’t repeat those words for no reason. She wants it. She’s curious. For all that matters, I already have her where I want her. I just need to execute my will.
When I turn around to retreat to my office, I can see her turn toward me from the corner of my eye. She’s made plans with that other girl to go out tomorrow night, so my best chance might be today. After tomorrow, it’ll be harder to get to her, because we’ll no longer see each other on a daily basis.
It has to happen tonight, but I can’t force it. All that’s left for me to do is to leave my door open, as it usually is, and invite her in after everybody else is gone. I know she has a tendency to stay late, and something tells me that won’t be any different today of all days.
She has a lot of things to wrap up, and she’ll be here after everybody else has left.
And so will I.
Chapter 6
Lacey
The gathering comes to an end quickly afterwards, just as Mr. Cooper had hoped. Everybody scatters back to their offices, but mostly just to pick up their things and go home.
Not me, though. I have nothing and no one waiting for me at home, but still a few things I could finish up at the office. I want to leave a good impression and I prefer not to have a stressful last day tomorrow.
I’m still a little tipsy when I return to my office, but it's easy for me to quickly clear my head with a few glasses of cold water. I sit down at my desk, ready to finish up two little tasks I’ve been given for my last few days.
Despite the champagne still clouding my head a little, it’s surprisingly easy to get back into work. I actually manage to finish one of the tasks completely and be about halfway done with the other by the time I decide to finally go home.
It’s almost 9 pm when I finally close the door behind me on what can be considered my last real work day at this agency. I’m a very sentimental person when it comes to these things, and I already know that leaving tomorrow will be anything but easy for me. Even today, it feels a lot different already.
I’m standing in front of my office for a few moments, scanning down the hallway. It’s dimly lit and completely deserted. Seeing it this quiet and empty is eerie. I’ve never been here late enough to see it like this.
I stroll down to our little hall. There’s a seating area with a TV and a table for those who bring their lunch to eat in the office. It’s sort of our break room, without actually being a room, but more of an open area to relax. The kitchen is right next to it.
It’s completely dark in this area, which is why I immediately notice the light coming from one of the offices down the hall to my right. Apparently, I’m not the only one who’s still been working at this hour.
I take a few steps to be able to see around the corner and figure out which office the light is coming from, and am not surprised to see that it’s coming from the one door that’s always ajar. Mr. Cooper's office.
The smartest thing to do now would be to just walk away. Shrug, turn around, and leave the office.
But I go for a different option. The one that might very well get me in trouble.
I slowly walk toward his door. Quietly, but not too quiet, so he can hear me approaching and won't be completely startled by my appearance.
I even knock before I dare to enter.
"Yes?" I hear his voice coming from inside.
His eyes widen when he sees me coming through the door.
"Lacey," he says. "What are you still doing here?"
He’s sitting at his desk, not folding paper cranes for a change, but working. His office is brightly lit, maybe to keep him from becoming tired too early.
"I wanted to finish a few things so my last day tomorrow won't be too stressful," I explain. "Are you always here this late?"
He shakes his head. "No, but a few things were left undone earlier, because of our little party."
"Oh," I say, feeling guilty. He doesn't give the impression that he wants me to stay around any longer. I’ve already kept him from work once today and should probably leave.
"I'm sorry, I didn't want to bother you," I say, getting ready to excuse myself.
He looks up at me, smiling. "What did you want, then?"
I look back at him, puzzled by his question. It's a good one—what did I want?
"I was just…" I utter. "I was just surprised to see that there were still lights on and wanted to check if you maybe forgot to turn them off."
"Is that so," he says. He looks contemplative, as if there's something he wants to say, but doesn't know how.
I linger, waiting. He looks exhausted. His tie is loosened and he has opened the upper buttons of his shirt. I’ve never seen him like this—and of course, all my giddy brain can think of is how sexy he
looks. I’m so glad I won't have this weird struggle come next week.
Or am I? There’s a growing part inside of me that’s sad about the exact same thing.
He gets up from his office chair and approaches me.
"Look," he says. "I’m sorry if I said something inappropriate earlier. I’m exhausted and didn't have much to eat today. That champagne got to my head a little quicker than usual."
I shake my head, feeling my cheeks blush instantly. "Oh, no. It's fine really. There was nothing inappropriate in what you said."
He looks surprised. "There wasn't?"
"Um, well…"
"I called you a good girl twice today," he whispers. "And you flinched at it as if it was accompanied by a good spanking."
Fuck, he noticed. And he notices now, too. He sees the blood rushing to my cheeks, my hands trembling, and the way my breathing changes as he approached me. He’s standing in front of me now, looking down on me with an irresistible hint of a smile. Daunting and intriguing, observing me closely.
I look up at him, my lips trembling as I open my mouth to speak.
"What are you trying to say?" I breathe, hardly audible.
"I'm not trying anything," he replies. "Just observing."
His eyes are on me, fixated, observing every little move I make, every hint of a reaction to what he’s saying.
And I’m not even trying to hide it at this point. I mirror his gaze, looking up at him with my lips slightly parted, silently pleading for a kiss. I want him to make the first move, to grab me by my hair, tilt my head back, and kiss me, show me that he wants me more than anything or anyone else in this world.
But something in his observant behavior tells me that this won't happen. He won’t risk anything without me asking for it. Verbally and not just with my eyes.
It’s for me to take the lead right now—but I’ve never been good with that.
Of course, he notices my struggle. A little smirk on his face tells me that he not only sees it, but enjoys it, too.
"I'm still not completely sure, though," he finally whispers.