The Deep End

by AM Hartnett

  ‘Because you want me to come inside you.’

  ‘Oh, yes.’

  That perfect, throbbing energy took over. She was lost in the fantasy, in the blurry image of this man she’d never really seen, looming over her, pushing her down and keeping her there with his sheer will.

  Her time to talk was over. Taureau took over, words exploding on radio waves and travelling over miles and miles to pummel her, to fuel this need that had built as she took them both into this fantasy.

  ‘I can see how bad you want it,’ he said, ‘You have no idea what you’re doing to me, Grace.’

  ‘Oh, tell me,’ she gasped, pushing up onto her toes as the surge grew closer and closer. ‘Tell me, please.’

  ‘Just what I’m doing to you. I want to fuck you, fuck your pussy, your mouth and your ass like you want me to. I want …’

  His words became a garble of sounds just as the need for words became meaningless. She braced herself for the tsunami that was coming fast. She held her breath and the muscles in her bum went taut. It was so terrifyingly powerful she almost stopped, almost tossed the vibrator aside and wept, but there was no stopping it. She could hear him reaching his own climax, and the sound of her name gurgling in her ear spurred her on.

  The shock of such a magnificent swell left her shaking inside and out. She released her grip on the vibrator and squeezed her eyes shut as it danced on the table between her legs. The starburst in her eyes blinded her, and she vainly tried to shut it out by throwing her arm over her eyes. Shaking her head as though to deny such a powerful rush of pleasure, Grace sobbed through the aftermath as the sound of Taureau fighting for breath filled her head.

  ‘Oh, my God,’ she whispered, forgetting that he could hear her, until his breathless chuckle brought her back to earth. She scrambled for the vibe, but couldn’t stay upright once she had turned it off. She flopped back and stared at the ceiling.

  ‘I can see you still throbbing,’ he said.

  It was Grace’s turn to laugh. ‘You were right. That was money well spent. I haven’t come like that since I first learned what a clitoris was for.’

  ‘I’m sure it was more than the lube and vibrator, though you can add those to your collection in the desk. One of these days, Caroway is going to get a surprise when he goes on the hunt for something.’

  She shook her floating head. ‘He won’t. He’s too important to even put sugar in his own coffee. Anything he wants, he asks me for.’

  ‘You are efficient.’

  The quirk at the corner of her mouth was unstoppable. He wouldn’t let her forget that he had been paying attention to her office flings. As she lay there trying to steady her breath, she wondered about the fact that he’d caught her at all. Did he sit in front of a wall of computers all day and watch the goings-on at Taureau-Werner? What sort of existence did he live?

  There she was, in the perfect position to learn more about a man who was all legend, and yet she didn’t probe as she pushed herself up. She was in no position to ask questions.

  But she did want at least one answer.

  ‘I’ve been worrying all day that you were going to fire me. I need you to tell me.’ Her voice was froggy from thirst and every word scratched across her throat. She made her way to Caroway’s bar fridge. ‘Is that’s what’s going to happen if I decide not to take your orders any longer? Is that what would have happened if I had closed my desk drawer when I found your gift?’

  ‘Did I force you to come in here? Did I coerce you? Now? Last night?’

  She wanted to say yes to save face and win the discussion, but she knew that wasn’t true. This wasn’t blackmail. This wasn’t sexual harassment or whatever you wanted to call it. He hadn’t intimidated her, had he? She didn’t pull down her panties and bend over the conference table because she felt she had to. He’d reached out to her, and she’d reached right back.

  She wanted to play this game with him.

  ‘No,’ she said, and claimed a water bottle from the fridge. She drank half of it down, and then shook her head. ‘No, you didn’t. You never even threatened me with exposure.’

  ‘That would be stupid of me, wouldn’t it? I have no proof. The cameras can’t exist, and, even if they did, a little office indiscretion would pale in comparison to the scandal if you decided to hit me with a lawsuit.’

  Grace returned to the table and collected the vibrator, then headed for Caroway’s bathroom. ‘I never thought of it that way.’

  ‘I’m sure you would have found a lawyer who would have no trouble connecting the dots.’

  She laughed as she squirted a dollop of hand soap on the plastic shaft. ‘Can you see me in here?’

  ‘No. Bathrooms are off limits. Not out of respect for privacy, obviously, but because there are some things I prefer not to see.’

  ‘Have you seen Caroway’s “guests” on the weekend?’

  ‘You’d be surprised what I see.’ He said nothing more as she ran the water and soaped up the vibe, but spoke as soon as she cut the water. ‘Grace, your job is safe. What happened here today and last night in the boardroom has nothing to do with the other. If you walk away, there will be no repercussions for your job. I promise you.’

  ‘Your promise means nothing to me, not right now.’

  He didn’t counter her words. As far as she could tell, he merely watched as she cleaned herself up and tidied Caroway’s office. The sound of his breathing was unnerving, but she didn’t try to remove the headpiece.

  ‘Leave them in the cupboard,’ he said as she picked up both the lube and the vibe. ‘Keep them close.’

  ‘I was thinking of taking them home with me.’

  ‘Maybe I should install cameras in your apartment.’ She heard the click of keys on a keyboard and grinned as he said, ‘578 Haughn Street, apartment 808. Correct?’

  ‘That’s not fair. You’ve already banned me from having sex here at the office. If you place restrictions at home, I might have to start going out for anonymous backseat sex to get my satisfaction.’

  ‘Caroway may be facing more meetings, if that’s the case, so I can send you home exhausted.’

  She felt mad and giddy all at once. This was so surreal. An enigmatic lover watching her from afar, stroking her libido and filling her head with all sorts of wicked thoughts.

  She sucked in a deep breath and tucked her presents in the credenza. ‘I should get back to my desk.’

  ‘Tomorrow is Saturday,’ he said quickly. ‘Can I convince you to come in the afternoon?’

  Laughing, she stepped into her shoes. ‘And if I say no?’

  ‘I’ll make sure you’re here. A sudden project will come up, and Caroway will insist that you give up your weekend to give it your full attention.’

  ‘That’s a very dirty trick. Do you have something against Skype?’

  ‘I have a much better vantage point here at the office. What do you say?’

  She could hear the laughter in his voice. A queer feeling hit her in the gut, the need to see it out completely. She leaned back against Caroway’s desk. ‘On one condition.’

  ‘Which is.’

  ‘I want to be able to see you again. When you come, I want to watch it happen like I did last night.’ She cocked her head and raised her eyes to the ceiling. ‘You’re not the only one who likes to watch.’

  ‘I can arrange that.’

  ‘What do I do with the phone?’

  ‘Leave it here. I’ll have a charging dock put in there tonight.’

  ‘Do I call you when I’m here?’

  Another low, husky laugh. ‘I’ll see you.’

  ‘Then I’ll see you tomorrow.’ Her words came out breathlessly, laced with anticipation. She raised her hand to her ear.

  ‘And Grace,’ he said, catching her just as she was ready to disconnect. ‘If you want to know more than what an Internet search will tell you, I’d recommend Everly Ledger’s book Burnout.’

  Her cheeks went hot and she opened her mouth, but he cut her off.
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  ‘I would have been very surprised if you didn’t look.’

  ‘Of course, Mr Taureau.’

  ‘Jacques.’

  ‘Jacques.’ She felt a funny little tickle in her chest. The name sounded so strange as she pronounced it, the thrill of addressing him so informally sparking at the tip of her tongue. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’

  Chapter Three

  ‘This is a little like being the personal assistant to some high-maintenance celebrity,’ she teased from her perch on the edge of the conference table. ‘Must I really be at your beck and call at every moment of the day?’

  It was her second weekend with Taureau, and like the first Grace arrived in the evening to find a bottle of wine on the conference table. The first had been red. She drank it, but couldn’t disguise her grimace. This weekend, now that he knew she loathed red wine, the Riesling had been left to chill in a dripping bucket of ice.

  It was a funny little thing, like something most lovers did when they were separated by distance. In Grace’s case, she didn’t even know what he looked like or what he smelled like. She didn’t have the warmth of his arms to miss like she would any other lover who was away from her.

  ‘I don’t expect you to be at my beck and call,’ he said, and she could have sworn she caught a bit of sheepishness in his words. ‘I can give you something more mundane to do, if you’d like.’

  ‘I’m a little underdressed. Or maybe it’s overdressed.’

  She gestured down her body with the hand that held her wine glass. This was not something he provided. The satiny red bustier, mesh panties and black stockings were from her closet. The matching red pumps were an impulse buy. Judging by the growl that came through the static when she slipped out of her raincoat earlier, Taureau approved.

  A low laugh from the computer speakers, and she had to bite back the sudden burst of annoyance that went through her.

  She didn’t know what his voice sounded like, not really. With the majority of people she came in contact with in this job, she did so via phone and email. It always gave her a turn when she finally came face to face with someone. The voice on the phone was never the same as the live one, just as a photograph could never truly capture how beautiful or ugly a person was.

  The volatile feeling in the back of her throat went down hard, and she chased it with the wine.

  That almost-smile appeared on the screen to accompany his laughter. ‘Actually, I was thinking I could send you on a little field trip.’

  Instantly intrigued, Grace leaned forward.

  ‘Define field trip.’

  A thrill went through her at the sight of his tongue touching the corner of his mouth. It was a quirk she was getting used to, revealing itself when he hit upon some dirty little task for her to complete. It was almost as good as those filthy phrases he dropped around her like bombs once she gave himself over to his demands.

  ‘A little drive through downtown. That’s all I’ll give you right now.’

  ‘You’re a cruel master, Jacques.’

  ‘That’s an interesting way of putting things.’

  Grace found no words, and Taureau let his response hang there for her to chew on. She wondered what he was really like in the bedroom. His dominant streak was clear, but did he have rules he expected his lovers to adhere to, or would he simply use his body and his strength to push her around?

  Though her mantra these days seemed to be ‘Yes, Mr Taureau’, she wasn’t sure how open she’d be to a demand to submit to any sort of ritual.

  She set the glass aside and eased herself back onto her hands. Taureau tilted his head just slightly, enough for her to see the pucker on his mouth as she crossed one leg over the other.

  ‘You really like this little ensemble, don’t you?’ she said.

  ‘Very much.’

  ‘What is it about this that you like?’

  ‘Every inch, but since you’re clearly fishing I’ll indulge you.’

  That struck her as funny. She tipped her head back as she laughed, and when there was only a little left to fizzle out she swallowed it and tried for a serious face. ‘Please, yes, indulge me.’

  ‘Your shoes,’ he said.

  Grace stretched her foot out. ‘They are a little much, aren’t they?’

  ‘They’re perfect. I don’t care for those ones you wear with the straps across the foot, and the red really stands out.’ He leaned to the side, resting his chin on the edge of his chair. ‘I can image how they’d look if I had your legs draped over my shoulder, maybe one hanging off one foot. I could make a game of it – see how much I can make you squirm before the shoe drops.’

  A sprite of mischief danced through her, tweaking a smile on her lips. ‘You know, it’s always about my weaknesses, what you could do to me. I wonder about your weaknesses and what I could do to you.’

  ‘Hold your horses, I’m getting there. Stand up for me.’

  Though she rolled her eyes, her grin widened as she hopped off the edge of the table. Her laughter returned as he raised his hand and twirled his finger around, and she threw out her hands as she spun.

  ‘Stop. There. That’s my weakness.’

  Grace placed her hands on her hips and looked over her shoulder at the screen. ‘My ass?’

  ‘I can see through those panties,’ he went on. ‘I like that they cover you completely, but I can slip my hand inside and play with you, and you can watch my fingers moving.’

  ‘Do you want to watch my fingers now?’ she asked, plucking the lace ruffle at her hip bones.

  ‘No. You like hearing me talk, so I’m going to give you what you want.’

  A shiver ran through her, but she didn’t bother to suppress it. ‘Go on, then.’

  ‘Do women know how inviting garters are?’ He spoke as though to himself. ‘They set off the same compulsion one gets when someone places a wrapped parcel in front of them at Christmas. It would be so easy to tug and tear, but isn’t it better to savour the unwrapping? Try to get those flimsy little panties over those bits of metal without snagging them, playing with the garters and watching your face when I give them a little snap.’

  She ran her hand down and over, following the curve of her ass, and slipped her fingers under the garter. Though tempted to do just what he had described and let it snap back against her skin, she simply gave it a tug.

  ‘Stockings worn all on their own are always a nice touch,’ he went on. ‘Isn’t it funny how those things that are supposed to be practical make a man feel like an animal? I want to see you in nothing else when I have you in bed.’

  Grace leaned back against the table and held on, desperate to do something far more wicked with her fingers than press them against the surface. ‘I want … I want … always what you want …’

  ‘What you want,’ he said with a sharp bite. ‘Not just me, you want it too. I know you. I’ve watched you. You perform, and what you wear, like this, turns you on as much as dirty talk. Try and deny that you wouldn’t want to be spread out, hands holding the flushed insides of your thighs apart. Tell me that seeing the contrast of the black stockings framing your pussy while you’re being fucked doesn’t turn you into a firecracker.’

  Keeping her gaze low, she pressed her tongue to her upper lip and enjoyed the heat that filled every part of her. Once the fluttering in her head abated and the fever in her blood became a simmer, Grace was left with the suggestion perched on the end of her tongue.

  She had no choice but to let it leap. Even though her throat burned with the need to swallow it back, she was powerless, and so she said, ‘We don’t have to talk about it any longer, you know. If that’s what you want, you can have it.’

  For a few moments there was nothing left but her limbs taut with nervousness as she stared at the floor and the slight crackle coming from the computer speakers. Regret nipped her, but she bullied that thing with the sharp teeth back into whatever fathomless void it had come from.

  It had been said, and it needed to be said, even if it w
as a mistake.

  What came next was a guttural sound: Taureau clearing his throat, followed by his quiet words.

  ‘If you’re done with your wine, I think it’s about time to go.’

  The electricity leapt from her body and left her feeling small and cold. She pressed her lips together as her regret squirmed, victorious, and she pushed away from the table.

  ‘Shall I call a cab?’ she asked, reaching for the coat she had tossed over a chair in her eagerness to show off her lingerie.

  ‘Use the service, but get the phone and the headset first.’

  She didn’t say anything to him as she disconnected the computer and turned off the projector. Only after she had washed the glass in Caroway’s sink and tucked the bottle in his credenza did Taureau call her back, this time on the phone.

  She quickly tucked the headset into her ear and answered the call, then slipped the phone into her pocket. ‘Where am I going?’

  Taureau was quiet for a moment. ‘If you’re not in the mood …’

  ‘No, I’m fine.’

  Her answer came out more as a retort. She had a sour feeling like she was heading out into the town in the midst of a lover’s spat. It made her feel foolish, and as she buttoned up to conceal every inch of the naughtiness underneath she filled her lungs and expelled it. She pulled her hair free of the collar.

  ‘Where are you taking me, Mr Taureau?’

  He gave another pause, not as long as the first, and then he cited an address not far from the Taureau-Werner building. She called the car and was assured it would be there shortly.

  ‘Is this the executive condo?’ she asked as she headed for the lobby.

  ‘No, it’s mine.’

  ‘But you don’t live there?’

  ‘The last time I was there you were still in university.’

  She wanted to probe deeper, to ask about the blank slate between his very tumultuous young adulthood and his present closeted existence, but she was still feeling the sting of his first rejection and didn’t care to receive a second.