Chosen By Him

by Gracia Ford

  I wanted to ask, but then you get to that stage that if you ask too many things you just seem stupid, so I just observed what was going on and pretended to be in the know. I had made enough of a show of myself getting there, so I did not want to appear to be a burden while I was there.

  As we drove down the busy streets, Jackson drove on the left-hand side with ease. We would not go into the office in London until Monday. Then, Tuesday night we were flying back home again. I looked at the narrow streets and the antique buildings with sleepy eyes. Part of me wanted to learn as much as I could about the place, but Jackson was back to being business like and briefing me on all the meetings and our agenda for our trip.

  I was listening, well not quite. I was taking in the parts that I had to do and I was shocked to discover that on Monday, I would have to do a presentation—the same one I did back in New York on the reporting tool that I developed. It made me feel proud. Beth was right. I was valued as an employee. I was to train the key staff in the company and they would train the rest of the staff. I was listening to that particular detail. Also, Jackson was saying I had Sunday to do some sightseeing and he would escort me as my personal guide.

  After we arrived at the Dorchester hotel, I kept wondering when Jackson was going to arrive and if he was already there. I was instructed to go to my room, shower, and refresh because we had a luncheon at twelve. That only left me with twenty minutes from the time we got there to the time I had to leave.

  I took the whole view, from the flowers hovering around the windows to the display in front of the building. The hotel didn´t look as impressive as I thought it would, but then when I entered my room and saw the views, Holy cow. Everything was amazing, the silk sheets, to the window seating which overlooked Hyde Park, the usher told me all about them as he handed me the room key. All I could do was run around the room taking in every inch of it. It was all breathtaking.

  I had never stayed in anything so exclusive and lush. It just felt divine, and the three days whizzed by as I went around town with Jackson. He decided to show me the real London at night. We hung around Camden gardens, shopping. I bought a few little souvenirs, as I was under strict instructions to bring them back by Olivia and Beth. I kicked it out of my mind that Carson still hadn´t shown until we ended up at the Jazz Café and Jackson whispered in my ear.

  “He´s not going to turn up here.”

  “What?” I could barely hear myself think let alone hear what he was saying.

  “Carson, he´s not here.”

  “Okay.” I mean, what else could I have said? It was clearly not the place to have that conversation, so I thought I would save it for the walk back to the hotel.

  ***

  “Jackson, why did you say that about Carson in there?”

  “Because you were looking around…” He moved his head from left to right as if to show how I was behaving earlier.

  I stopped and looked at him. I dropped my arm out of his and looked up into his brown eyes, or what I could see of them. The street lighting wasn´t great, and I was a bit tipsy from drinking too many gin and tonics. Also, I was exhausted from the time difference. Jet lagged, horny, and tipsy is not the best combination to have any type of conversation.

  “You´re on edge whenever he is around and when he´s not around, you’re constantly looking for him. Can I ask you a personal question?”

  Well, you´ve gone all out to tell me about myself, what´s stopping you now? What kept going through my mind was if Jackson knew, then...

  “Shoot,” I said without hesitation. I needed to know where the conversation was going.

  “Okay, I need to carefully choose my words. I know you ladies can be oversensitive. Did you dress for Carson?”

  Great. I was happy we were having the conversation in the dark. He took my arm and continued to walk, aware of how embarrassed I was about the whole situation. Like a true gentleman, he walked me to my room. The mood changed and we walked in silence. I didn´t feel like talking. Especially in my state. As I entered my suite, he said, “Carson would notice you if you had a black bag over your head. The only problem is, he´s your boss and he knows it, and you need to too.”

  I went into the suite, and for the first time in a long time, I didn’t dream of Carson. We continued our trip as business colleagues, and I returned home with tales of London. Everyone loved their souvenirs, and I felt proud about the fantastic presentation that I gave to the London office. Especially in my grey Gucci suit. I thought I would wear that more often to the office, not only was it sophisticated, but it felt like I was dressed for the job I wanted and not the one I was in.

  Chapter 5: French Talk

  “Je veux te la mettre!” Carson whispered gently in my ear. I could smell his scent and I knew his voice all too well.

  As he moved closer, I felt something covering my eyes. He slipped a mask over my head, even though it was dark and I couldn’t see anything anyway.

  It excited me when he spoke French. I’d heard him speak French with his clients a number of times and always quivered with excitement when he did.

  One day, when I was taking notes, I told him that I loved it. He said the same words to me in French and I wrote them down as fast as I could. I learnt basic French when I started work so that I could learn to greet our French clients and so I would know how to spell it when he spoke to me.

  I returned to my desk, Google-translated it, and it got me all excited. Just thinking about it was making me wet. At the time I’d merely blushed, knowing it was something sexy, but the memory of it made me horny.

  He repeated it to me on another occasion, but by then I knew its true meaning. I replied as best as I could in my pathetic French accent, “Oui, oui, monsieur.”

  He had a dark smile across his face and he started to lick his lips slowly. I stood, mesmerized, watching his tongue move from left to right. I tried to resist jumping across the table and putting his tongue in my mouth. My pussy was crying for his lips to be in my mouth—anywhere, as long as it was on me. My senses went wild. As far as I cared, there was only me and him in the whole building; everyone else was blocked out. Then his phone rang and my senses crashed to earth.

  Stop it, remember he´s your boss, remember, I tried to tell myself. I was crossing a line I knew I shouldn’t cross. I´d been warned so many times about my flirting. The problem was that the flirting wasn’t one-sided, and most of the time it was instigated by him.

  I waited for him to end the call. He held up his hand, indicating that he wouldn’t be long and that I should wait for him. I had to move. I was getting aroused by him and he knew it—he kept his eyes on me the whole time he was on the phone.

  He apologized for his behavior after the phone call, and I told him there was no need. He said it was gross misconduct and if I felt the need to file a complaint he wouldn’t refute it. It made me so nervous the way he spoke seriously about something that really got me going. I couldn’t do that while watching him lick his lips. How could I raise a complaint about it when many nights I lay in bed touching myself, fantasizing about his tongue over my body—between my legs, neck, mouth, all over my body.

  When he whispered, I could smell the scent of Giorgio Armani Code, my favorite scent. I inhaled and held my breath. I loved that scent so much. Too much, in fact. I bought one for him at Christmas and it drove me wild every time he was near.

  I bought him a present not because of my feelings for him, but because I did the same for all my former employer. It was my way of spreading some joy after I received a Christmas bonus after being with the company for only three months.

  “Ms. Clark…”

  “Please, call me Ali. Ms. Clark, no one calls me that except the doctor and the bank, and you´re neither of them.”

  “Okay, Ali…you have exceptional talents,” he told me. I wasn’t clear if he meant at work, but when he spoke his eyes were scanning me from top to bottom and they lingered around my breast area.

  I knew he wasn’t talking about
my work as a secretary. It doesn’t require much talent to take notes and answer phones, but he had no idea what I could do in the bedroom.

  He made me feel like I was the best secretary in the world. I loved the way he looked at my body. I had been buying lower cut shirts and shorter skirts just to walk into his office and make him stare. I didn’t want his imagination to do the work, I wanted to put all of it out there for him to see. I wanted my curves enhanced, my hips up, and my breasts displayed. Not too much, but enough for him to want to touch them, hold them, or lick them.

  One time in his office, when it was hot, I undid a couple of buttons. He had a hard time dictating. He stopped a few times, then stood up to get himself a glass of water. He offered me one, looking at my breasts as he spoke to me. He didn’t even pretend that he didn’t want them. I wanted him to walk up to me and just bury his head in them.

  I felt like putting his head in between them, so he could like them from up-close and not from afar. He could have tasted them and I wouldn’t have disapproved, I would have encouraged it. I was so wet that day that I had to have a cold shower in the office showers. No one could understand why I was taking a shower—I lied and told them I had been for a jog. Damn, that day was hard.

  Chapter 6: Dinner Date & Contract

  “I would like to repeat what we did in Central Park one night, if you´re free?”

  “Mr. Reid, sorry to interrupt,” Jackson said, bursting in just when things were getting interesting, “but we must discuss the Parkinson case, it´s getting out of hand.”

  “Of course, I´ll leave you to it. We’ve finished anyway.” Mr. Reid replied.

  Mr. Reid stood up, a frown on his face. I wasn’t sure if the frown was directed at me for leaving or at Jackson’s news. Either way, I knew he was talking to me when he said, “We´ll continue this conversation later.”

  With those words, I hurried out of the room and closed the door. As I closed it, I still had my hand on the door handle and, standing next to me—well, practically on top of me—was Megan.

  “What happened in there?”

  “We took notes and then Jackson came in with the big news.”

  “I know, so did you find out what´s going on?”

  “No…”

  “Pity,” she said, giving me a little breathing space. “If you do, let me know.”

  Oh sure, Megan, I think you´re the first person I will tell. NOT. Seriously,

  I wasn’t sure if she was mad or just delusional. Why on earth would I let her know first? Especially after the way she spoke to me.

  As if reading my mind, she walked towards me when I was at my desk. “You do know we’re friends.”

  Seriously?

  “Sure,” is all I could muster. I didn’t want to make her my enemy, but there was something about her that I couldn't put my finger on. One thing for sure, being brought up on a farm gave me some sort of animal sense, and those senses went crazy when she was around. They had never failed me, but I’d never really had much chance to use them as I had always been in a safe environment.

  I’d had a couple of things happen which just felt crazy to me. When I talked to people at work about it, they were like “That´s New York” My job happened in a matter of minutes, which felt crazy, especially as everyone said it would take weeks to get a job because I was from a small town.

  People tend to think that because you come from a small town you have no sense, so you can´t achieve much. We worked hard, unlike New Yorkers. We grew our own food and bred animals, we weren’t afraid of hard work and labor.

  Olivia said it was a polite way of them telling me to go back home. She was a sweet girl. I had tried talking to her about Megan and she couldn’t stop singing her praises. Even Jackson raved about how fantastic Megan was and it made me feel uneasy saying anything bad about her. So, I kept my mouth shut.

  Megan’s job title was MD Financial Services. They had their own offices out of town in Washington, so why she was always in the office was beyond me. Obviously, no one cared, because they never seemed to notice.

  Everyone in the office liked her. I knew they thought she was the best, as they constantly talked about it. Making her an enemy wouldn’t have been in my best interests. I wouldn’t go out of my way to be vindictive, but she crept me out and was always up my ass. Sometimes I felt the need to go to the bathroom to check to see if she was in there.

  I found her far too threatening, or maybe it was because she was always threatening me with a smile. And it’d be best not to talk about how she looked at me when she dragged her glasses halfway down her nose and just stared. Why do people do that if they wear glasses? Do they think it is intimidating? It scared me whenever she did that, it made me feel like I was in the principal’s office at school, being told off for not following instructions. The problem was, the only instruction she gave was to stay away from Mr. Reid.

  I once asked her if they were together. She didn’t reply and merely sighed, an answer in itself. They must have been together and it didn’t work out, so she felt threatened by others being with him.

  I shuddered at the mere thought of it. Mr. Reid appeared on the office chat system, he rarely used it so I knew he must have been desperate to talk.

  CR: Hey

  Me: Is everything OK?

  CR:No

  Me: Oh

  CR: Oh, so is tonight still on?

  Me: Oh, I thought you were talking about whatever is troubling Jackson.

  CR: Everything troubles Jackson, that´s his problem.

  I sniggered. He reminded me of the time there was a leak in the office — you would have thought we’d had a flood. Jackson paced up and down, going on and on about why maintenance didn’t do their job.

  We had important deadlines to meet and clients due in the office, yet we had buckets around the office like we were hillbillies. He was sweet, but sometimes he reminded me of an old man.

  CR: What are you thinking, playing with your imaginary piece of hair?

  I remembered that he could see us, but we couldn’t see him. I wanted to turn to the side to look at him, but I knew that he was watching me and I felt shy.

  Damn, I´m flirting with the boss. This is too silly.

  The crazy part was that I really loved it. I loved the attention. My roomie said that she didn’t blame me. She’d seen him on the night that he tucked me into bed like a child. She’d offered to do it, but he insisted. It was strange, because when I woke up I had nothing on. It didn’t creep me out that he took my clothes off, it actually turned me on—the idea of him slowly rubbing his hands up and down my body, trying to take off my top, bra and skirt. I wondered if he enjoyed it. If only I could have been a fly on the wall, watching him doing it.

  He pinched my ass at the first office party. It was a slow, lingering pinch. I wanted him to do so much more than that. Okay, so he was a bit tipsy, but even if he wasn’t, I sure the hell was. So was most of the office. That night I made sure that after each drink I had a Coca-Cola just to make sure I didn’t make a fool of myself. Once bitten, twice shy.

  He said the red dress drove him wild. At the time I bought it, I had him in my mind. I knew it would get his attention. I made sure my breasts and a bit of my legs would be on show. I wanted him to imagine me, wanted him to be with me. I didn’t want him to not feel the urge to take things to the next level—after three months of convincing myself that it was unethical, wrong, and against everything I’d ever been taught. Seeing him every day, watching his lips, wanting to lick them; brushing against his soft hands a few times and feeling the urge to take them and make him grab me, damn I needed to get my boss of my mind. They were so soft and gentle. He was obviously a man that had never done any hard labor, not like any man I’d known. They were manicured to perfection. Just like every part of him.

  He jogged a lot, mostly in the comfort of his apartment in the office. But he had a house too. He had a side room next to his office with an exercise bike and treadmill. I’d never been in, but Megan
told me it had a shower. I wondered how she seemed to know about it, considering no one else seemed to know. I’d only discussed it with Olivia, and she didn’t have a clue. I did try asking Megan and she gave me some feeble excuse about how everyone knew. No, they didn’t!

  Once, when he was getting changed in his office, he called me in and he had a few buttons of his shirt undone. I could not take my eyes off his chest. I just wanted to run my hands up and down it and lay on his desk and say, “Take me now, let´s just get this over and done with.”

  That´s the thing, I wanted it over and done with. I wanted it done, again and again and again, till I couldn’t take it anymore.

  How would that ever happen?

  CR: So?

  Me: Can´t think of anything I´d rather do.

  That got him. I wished I could see his face. He went quiet, probably waiting for a response. I didn’t have one, I couldn’t concentrate. I needed to know what he wanted. I thought that he wanted me and the thought made me blush. I knew one thing for sure. I wanted him—what girl wouldn’t?

  “So, 8pm? I need to go for a meeting, but meet me back here at that time,” he whispered in my ear as he passed.

  The strong scent and aura were disintegrating as I watched him as he left. The only thing was, I wasn’t sure where I was or what was going to happen next.

  One Last Thing………

  I hope you enjoyed the story. This is Part I of IV about Ali and Carson. To find out more about my releases or be part of future giveaways, sign up to my newsletter:

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