by Maggie Way
“What’s her name from HR suggested it,” she said with one eyebrow raised.
I shrugged at her. “Yes, so what.”
“Nothing,” she said, rolling her eyes as she walked away. She turned back before going out the door. “By the way, Miss Ells left quite a mess in your bathroom. Water everywhere. Wet towels on the floor. I’ve called housekeeping to clean it up. Be careful if you go in there. Don’t slip up.”
“Thank you, Robin,” I said, understanding the true meaning of her words. “I’ll be very careful not to slip up. You can go now.”
“Very good, Mr. Shaw,” she said with a smile.
I waited until she closed the door, then I took out the file and read everything we had on Alexandra Hart.
I left the office just after eight and had the limo drive me straight home to my penthouse downtown. Thankfully, Monique was off at some movie premiere with a gaggle of her girlfriends, so I had the place to myself.
I stripped off my clothes and left them lying across a chair in the bedroom so the housekeeper could deal with them in the morning. I put on a pair of boxer shorts, fixed myself a Long Island iced tea, and sat down at the desk in my bedroom. I fired up my laptop and took Alexandra’s personnel file out of my briefcase and spread it out on the desk.
It’s probably easier to be vetted by Congress for the Supreme Court than getting a job at Shaw. Because we deal with matters of finance and billions of dollars in assets, we are extremely careful about who we hire.
The paperwork an applicant must complete is extensive. That paperwork is then sent to a security firm that turns over every rock and looks behind every tree. If you’ve ever done something silly, embarrassing, or illegal, they’ll find it and tell me about it.
One of the things the firm does is compile a social media profile of the applicant, meaning that the applicant gives them the web addresses of their various social media profiles and the company investigates them all. If there was a picture of you smoking a joint five years ago at a frat party posted on an old roommate’s Facebook profile, this company would find it.
I took out the social media profile the company compiled on Alexandra Hart. It had the address of her Facebook profile, and her Twitter and Instagram accounts.
According to the report, they found nothing in her past that stood out as a point of concern. Not too surprising. I knew from reading her application that she was raised on a potato farm in Idaho, got her BA at Penn, then her MBA at Wharton, my alma mater.
Her brief resume told me that she worked her way through school and probably took on a mountain of debt. Going to Wharton wasn’t cheap, and by the look of it, Alexandra Hart did not come from a rich family.
I logged into Facebook and typed in her profile address. I sipped the drink and waited for the page to come up. I’m not sure what I was hoping to find. I just wanted to see photos of the girl with the pretty red hair and nice smile, the one who looked at me without an agenda. Silly, I know, but even billionaires must take the simple pleasures where we can find them.
Alexandra Hart’s Facebook profile was about as boring as they come. She didn’t post often. When she did it was mostly reposts of cute cat videos and things related to school. I clicked on Photos, hoping to find something interesting there. She had a dozen Albums set up: family, school, work, vacation… The last one caught my eye because the thumbnail image was Alexandra in a bikini. I held my breath and clicked to open the album.
Apparently, Alexandra had taken a trip with friends to the Jersey shore the summer before. There were lots of pictures of people I didn’t care about. I kept clicking, then I stuck gold.
There was a picture of Alexandra standing on the beach, in surf up to her knees. Her hair was wet and pushed back from her face. She was wearing a black bikini that covered the parts that I wanted to see.
She had nice, full boobs that spilled out the bikini top. I smiled at the ample cleavage her freckled breasts made. Her hips were narrow and flared out into wide hips that curved down to a pair of beautifully-toned legs.
The little patch of black material that covered her pussy was wet from the surf. I narrowed my eyes and leaned into the screen. I could see a drop of water clinging to her crotch. I imagined it was her juice flowing from her pussy. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, imagining that I could smell her scent. I ran my tongue across my lips. I could taste her tangy juices on the tip of my tongue.
My cock had grown hard just from looking at the photo. I wondered what having the real thing in my bed would do to my cock. It would probably drag my body across the room to get to her.
I finished the drink and carried the laptop to the bed. I shucked off the boxer shorts and lay on the bed with the laptop resting on my chest. I didn’t need lube or lotion. My cock was ready to burst. It wouldn’t take much coaxing from my hand to make myself blow like a geyser.
I stared at Alexandra’s bikini-clad body as I wrapped my right hand around my cock and started stroking it slowly. The image came alive in my mind. I could hear the surf, the waves crashing around her. She was smiling at me, her top teeth biting into her bottom lip.
My hand slid up and down the shaft of my cock as Alexandra brought her hands up to her breasts. She massaged them for a moment, the bikini top disappeared and her bare breasts were free. Her hands squeezed her breasts. She pinched her nipples and cooed at me.
My hand pumped my cock, from base to head. I could feel the pre-cum juices seeping out now, wetting my hand. I released my grip and took the head of my cock in my palm and slathered the juices around. When my hand was wet, I started stroking again.
Alexandra’s left hand squeezed her breast as her right hand slid into the crotch of the bikini. She closed her eyes as her fingers found her clit, then began rubbing her pussy lips, dripping wet with her juice. The bikini disappeared and I could see her pussy now. I imagined a bush of red curls trimmed short. She didn’t impress me as the shaving type.
I started pumping my cock faster and faster. I sounded like a panting dog.
Alexandra used her fingers to spread her pussy lips for me. She pressed a finger to her clit and rolled it from side to side. She looked directly at me and put a finger fully into her mouth, then slid it into her pussy. She started ramming the finger in and out, in and out, as her other finger rolled her clit faster and faster.
We came at the same time. Alexandra exploded as the sea waves crashed around her. I jackhammered my cock and came with such force that I shot creamy white ropes of cum a foot in the air. I milked my cock until there was nothing left to give.
I lay there for a moment trying to catch my breath. My hand, my cock, and my stomach were covered with warm, sticky jizz. Christ, I couldn’t ever remember coming so hard by my own hand. If it was that good every time, I wouldn’t need Monique.
After a few minutes, I closed the laptop and set it on the bed with my clean hand. My head was filled with thoughts of Alexandra Hart as I rolled off the bed and went in to shower.
I wasn’t sure how I was going to pull it off, but I knew that I would not rest until Alexandra Hart was mine.
All mine.
And no one else’s.
Neither of us had a choice.
It was destined to be.
The gods don’t lie to people like me.
Chapter Twelve
Alex
I didn’t sleep a wink. I tossed and turned all night, worrying if I’d have a job when I arrived at work the next morning. When I found Vee after the confrontation with the HR lady, she told me that I was just being silly, that my resume and Wharton MBA would more than make up for my silly lapse of brain function.
“Besides,” she’d said with a wink. “If Cameron Shaw spoke to you, it means something. And if he smiled at you, well, I’d say you’re going to do just fine here.”
I frowned at her. “What does that mean?”
“It means that he must think you’re hot or something,” she said with a devious grin.
“Oh, bulls
hit,” I said. “He was just asking my name.”
She raised an eyebrow at me. “Did you hear him ask anyone else’s name?”
I thought about it for a moment. “No.”
“Because he didn’t give a shit what anyone else’s name was.” She leaned in and lowered her voice. “Listen, girlfriend, Cameron Shaw doesn’t speak to anyone in this company that doesn’t have the letters VP after their name. And even then, it’s usually to rip them to shreds over something they did or didn’t do.”
“You make him sound like a monster,” I said.
“He can be a monster,” Vee said with a nod. “But he’s also a brilliant business man who’s not going to fire you because you couldn’t remember your name.”
“I could remember my name,” I said with a heavy sigh. “I just couldn’t get my mouth to work while he was looking at me.”
Vee and I rode in on the subway and I was happy to see that my employee badge still worked when I swiped it on the reader at the security desk.
“That’s a good sign,” Vee said with a supportive smile. We stepped onto the crowded elevator. I was assigned to a research group on the fifth floor as a Junior Analyst. Vee worked as a mid-level analyst on the sixth floor. It seemed that as you climbed the company ladder, you moved up one floor at a time. It was a long way to Cameron Shaw’s office on the fiftieth floor.
Vee bumped me with her shoulder. “Don’t worry. Just grab a cup of coffee and go to work. I’m sure you’ll be fine.”
“I hope you’re right,” I said, mustering a smile. She gave me a quick hug before I stepped off the elevator. I took a deep breath and walked down the long hallway to the room filled with cubicles where I’d work until someone told me otherwise.
“This is what I spent two-hundred-grand and six years of my life on?”
I didn’t ask the question out loud, but I kept repeating it over and over in my head as I sat in my tiny cubicle reviewing the reams of financial data from a company I was told Shaw was interested in acquiring.
The company was a fifty-year-old manufacturer of baby clothing and I had been tasked to review all fifty-years of financials to spot irregularities in the math, if such irregularities exist.
After reviewing the first decade of numbers and finding no errors, I started to wonder if this might be some kind of test. Maybe this was how they determined if I was sharp enough to be a Shaw analysist; dump fifty-year’s worth of mind-numbing financials on my desk and tell me to find the proverbial needle in the haystack. The fact that I felt like my job was already hanging in the balance didn’t exactly help my frame of mind.
I was about to start on the next decade’s worth of data when the phone on my desk buzzed, scaring the crap out of me. I knew what a desk phone was, but honestly, I’ve never used one. I picked up the receiver and pressed the flashing red light, hoping I was doing it right.
“Hello?”
“Is this Alexandra Hart?” The voice was female and filled with formality.
“Yes.”
“This is Robin from Mr. Shaw’s office. Mr. Shaw would like to see you in his office immediately. Please come to the fiftieth floor at once.”
“Okay…”
My heart skipped a beat as I set the receiver back on the cradle. I looked at the piles of papers on my desk and sighed. Oh well, it was fun while it lasted.
Actually, it wasn’t fun, but it was better than digging potatoes in Idaho, which was where I’d be heading now that I was getting the axe at Shaw.
Shit.
See you later dreams.
It was nice knowing you.
Chapter Thirteen
Cameron
I sat at my desk with my back to the door, looking out over the New York skyline, waiting for Alexandra Hart to arrive. After my hot tug-and-cum session with her Facebook photo the night before, I couldn’t get her off my mind.
She came to me repeatedly in my dreams. She straddled my face, her pussy squirting hot juice over my tongue and drenching my cheeks; her big tits in my hands and her stiff nipples between my fingers. She slid her pussy over my face as my tongue probed her clit and asshole. She moaned, begging me to shove my big cock into her pussy and in her mouth and in her ass. She took my cock in her hand and milked it until my jizz shot in the air like…
I heard a knock and my secretary’s voice. “Mr. Shaw?”
Fuck! I stopped rubbing my cock through my pants and swiveled around to face the sound of Robin’s voice coming from the closed door. I slid in close to the desk, hoping the stiffness in my cock would quickly subside.
I took a few quick breaths and laced my fingers together on the desk. “Yes, come in,” I called.
Robin stuck her head in the door. “Alexandra Shaw is here.”
I started to stand up, then my erection hit the edge of the desk and I lowered myself back into the seat. I waved a hand at her. “Please, show her in.”
A second later, there she was, standing in my doorway with a look on her face like a frightened pup. God, how I wanted to jump over the desk and rip off her clothes and bend her over my desk. My cock literally throbbed when it detected her scent. Okay, that may a bit over the top, but it did seem to get harder the moment she entered the room.
“Miss Shaw, please have a seat,” I said without standing up and totally embarrassing myself. Or would I be embarrassed if I stood up and she saw the ten-inch boner in my pants? I’m Cameron fucking Shaw, after all. She should be honored that just the thought of her had such an effect on a man of my caliber.
I plastered a pleasant smile on my face and tried not to look at her tits as she sat down. She was a beautiful girl, naturally pretty, with long red hair and fair Irish skin that reminded me of fresh cream. She wasn’t wearing much makeup, not that she needed it. She had big blue eyes and a perfect little nose and a pair of lips that I couldn’t wait to feel around my cock.
She was dressed professionally in a pair of black slacks, a green top, and a short black jacket. She wasn’t wearing any jewelry. Her nails were not long or painted. She wasn’t wearing perfume, but when I inhaled deeply I could smell the soap she had used to lather up her body. I could picture in my mind her lathering up her pussy, washing it clean for me, getting it ready to accept my fingers, my mouth, my cock.
“Cameron?”
I blinked at the sound of Robin’s voice. “Yes?”
“Would you like coffee?”
I looked at Alexandra Shaw and let my eyebrows go up. “Coffee, Miss Shaw?”
“Um, no, thank you,” she said in this cute, little sheepish voice that made the wolf in me growl. My cock was pushing against the fabric of my suit, struggling to get out and get to her. God, I could barely wait until I had this girl bent over my desk with her beautiful ass in the air.
I gave Robin a nod. “We’re fine. Thank you. Please close the door on your way out.”
Robin narrowed her eyes at me, then glanced at Alexandra. “Should I lock the door on the way out?” she asked sarcastically.
I waved her away without answering. I was too busy looking into Alexandra Shaw’s blue eyes to think about anything other than getting her into my bed.
Chapter Fourteen
Alex
The look on Cameron Shaw’s handsome face wasn’t the look of a man about to fire an employee or rip anyone’s head off. To the contrary, he looked very happy and relaxed, maybe even a little excited.
I sat there with my hands in my lap and a stupid smile on my face, hoping that he couldn’t smell the fear that was radiating from every pore of my body. He was not only the most handsome man I’d ever been this close to, but he was a freakin’ billionaire. Do you know how many billionaires there are in the world? It’s easier to spot Big Foot than a freakin’ billionaire.
All that money aside, I was in awe of his presence. I mean, imagine sitting three feet away from a guy that looked like George Clooney back in the day. He had these rugged good looks, like an L.L. Bean model. Coal black hair with just a touch of grey, steel bl
ue eyes that almost looked like a wolf’s, those teeth that looked like they could just devour me at any moment. The whole package was enough to have me juicing in my panties. I could smell my own scent. It was faint, but it was there. Thank God, he wasn’t a wolf because the smell of fear and pussy juice coming off me might have driven him to fuck me and rip me to shreds.
What a great way to die…
“So, Miss Shaw, I trust you’re getting all settled in,” he said after the secretary left us alone. He asked the question and gave me a smile that caused me to squirt – I mean, squirm – in the chair.
“Yes, sir, thank you,” I managed to say. My mouth was already dry as a bone. I covered my mouth with a hand and licked my lips. God forbid he think I’m coming on to him again.
“Please, call me Cameron,” he said. He reached a hand across the desk and I froze. Was I supposed to shake his hand or kiss his ring or what?
After a moment, I reached for his hand and his fingers engulfed mine. His hand was warm and welcoming. His touch sent a little spark up my arm that shot through my body and across my breasts and into my cunt. I felt a fire start there, as if my clit had been struck by lightning that caused an ember to strike.
“And what should I call you?” he asked as he slowly shook my hand. He stopped shaking my hand, but didn’t let it go.
“Um, Alex, is fine,” I said, struggling to get out the words. He let go of my hand and I brought it back to my lap. My thumb grazed my clit through the material of my pants and I nearly jumped like I’d been shocked. I had this crazy thought that he had touched my hand and now my hand was near my pussy so that meant… I know… I’m just fucking insane…
I felt my cheeks flush. I was short of breath. It was like being on a rollercoaster, rising and falling over a peak, feeling the air rush from your lungs and your stomach jump into your throat.