by Kari Wray
I made my way back through to the elevators, Mr Drake following just a few steps behind me, all the while feeling his burning hot eyes on me, wondering if he was taking in my ass the way other men often did …
“Hopefully we’ll see you again soon,” he said, waving me off as the elevator doors slid closed behind me.
§
Back downstairs in the lobby, I looked around me, frantically scanning the imposing marble-floored room for the sign to the bathrooms. I spotted the little wooden door in the far corner and made a direct line for it. With a sigh of relief, I found that the small bathroom was completely empty.
With a beating heart and a fluttering stomach, I quickly locked myself in the farthest cubicle from the way in, and then, with my back pressed against the door, I eagerly tugged at the zip of my skirt, loosening the waistband so that I could slip my trembling fingers into my thong, noting with surprise that the tightly cropped curls of my pubic hair were already completely slick and wet with my warm juices.
I ran my fingers back and forth over my hot, swollen clit, working it in tight little circles until, not long later, with a muffled whimper, I came hard against my own fingers, pressing my yearning ass back against the wooden cubicle door, my young body bucking and my head spinning with x-rated images of Xander Drake taking me, however he wanted: in my pussy, my ass, my mouth …
Chapter Four
§
Big Sticky Cocktails
The call came through the following morning, an icy-cold October Friday, just as I was stepping out of the shower, the water dripping off my skin. I quickly wrapped a tatty old towel around me and ran through to the bedroom, where my battered cellphone was buzzing frantically on the dresser like it had a life of its own. I’d assumed it would most likely be my mom calling again, to ask how things had gone and try - once more - to convince me to give up on my dream in the city, but when I picked up the phone the display instead said UNKNOWN NUMBER.
“Hello?” I answered, a little cautiously.
“Cassie,” the rich, deep, sonorous voice said in reply, and once again I felt my cheeks flush with heat as I realized who it belonged to. It was like his voice had some sort of magical, aphrodisiac effect on me.
“Hello,” I said timidly.
“I’m just calling,” Mr Drake continued, to let you know that we’d like to offer you the job.”
“NO WAY!” I blurted out, immediately cringing at myself afterwards, realizing just how silly and school-girl-like I must have sounded right there and then. I quickly attempted to correct myself. “I mean, wow, that’s absolutely fantastic!” I said, trying to put on a more grown-up voice; the kind of voice I imagined the rich men and women who populated his world spoke to each other in.
“Well, I’m glad you’re pleased,” he laughed, obviously not taken in by my attempt at sophistication. But there was genuine warmth in that laugh too; I could tell. He wasn’t just making fun of me, I knew that much at least. “You were great in the interview,” he added.
I smiled to myself, wondering just what in the world I’d told him. As he continued to talk, I let my free hand absentmindedly drift down to my side, running beneath my towel, up my smooth, still-damp thigh, and then reaching once more the closely-cropped curls of my pubic hair. A delicious shiver ran through me as my fingertip gently brushed, just once, against my tingling, throbbing clit, just as Mr Drake said, “Can you start on Monday morning?”
“Sure,” I cooed, softly, feeling my own gooey warm wetness spreading as my finger slipped — seemingly with a mind of its own! — between the hot, swollen lips of my sex.
“See you then, Cassie,” he said, hanging up on me before I could reply.
I dropped the phone on the dresser, then fell back dizzily onto the bed, once more overcome with such naughty, devious thoughts, the likes of which I’d never had before. I spread my legs wide, my hand once again working at my clit, my towel falling open around me, the drops of water from the shower cooling deliciously on my pale, goose-pimpled flesh. And as I masturbated, I looked at myself between my own spread legs, there in the floor-length bedroom mirror at the foot of my bed.
I looked at my fingers urgently plunging in and out of the sweet dark wetness between my legs, and at my small pink nipples, which had stiffened into hard puckered points, and I wondered if Mr Xander Drake had felt any kind of attraction towards me, too, or if it was all just in my dizzy, swirling head …
§
“No way, that’s awesome!” Lauren squealed when I told her the exciting news. “Okay, I’m taking you out for celebratory drinks, young lady,” she continued, “and just so you know: I’m not taking no for an answer!”
So that Friday night it was decided; we were to go out to the swanky new cocktail bar that had recently opened in Lauren’s neighborhood and when I finally arrived she insisted on paying for round after round of big sticky cocktails.
The place was packed and noisy - disco lights dappled the walls with their spinning, swirling colors and the music pulsed and throbbed around us, as we sat and talked and laughed and drank in our little circular booth in the back corner.
Soon my head was spinning and we were both tipsy and giggling and for once I actually felt free and happy, the way I imagined you were supposed to feel in your twenties, finally secure in the knowledge that — unless I did something monumentally stupid and screwed everything up — I finally had a real job to go to on Monday morning!
“So let me get this straight,” Lauren said, leaning in across the table, her tongue all blue from her Electric Iced Tea, “you don’t actually know what your job entails?”
I nodded, explaining for the third time that evening just how weird the interview had been: how I’d talked and talked but had pretty much no recollection of what I’d said.
“It sounds like some sort of David Blaine trick,” Lauren grinned. “He’s probably controlling you with his mind … Wait, did you do the imagining him naked trick?” Lauren’s cheeky grin widened, and when I didn’t reply but just blushed a little and took another sip of my Pina Colada, her eyes lit up like the winning jackpot on a slot machine. “So he’s hot?”
I nodded.
“Oh, okay, now it all makes sense …” she said, giggling and slapping the table.
“Shut up, it’s not like that.”
“What’s his name?” she continued.
And knowing Lauren, I knew that she wouldn’t rest until she’d wrung out every single tiny, juicy last detail, so with a sigh I realized that I’d have to fess up and tell her the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help me God …
“Xander,” I said. “Xander Drake.”
It felt weird to say his name out-loud, and when I did, I felt a naughty little tingle of excitement run right through me, like an invisible finger had traced its way up and down my spine.
“Xander?” Lauren echoed with a laugh. “WTF? Is anyone really called that? He sounds like some sort of super hero or something!”
“He’s nice … I think,” I said quietly, surprised at myself by how defensive I was being. Normally, I was open with Lauren about everything.
“How much do you actually know about him?” she persisted, her smile now turning into a more serious, worried-about-you expression.
“Not that much …” I answered, which was the truth.
Since the interview, I’d searched around online a little more, and all I’d been able to find out was that he was heir to a huge family fortune, and that in the years following his father’s death, he’d started out Glacis Inc on his own. The rumors were that he’d invested all his inheritance in the business and built it up from scratch, while other online voices suggested that he’d started the company without any financial aid and that all the Drake inheritance had gone to a mysterious brother … It sounded like something out of a freaking soap opera, and I was wary - as always - not to just straight-up believe every silly little thing I read on the internet.
“How old is he?” Lau
ren asked.
“Thirty six,” I said.
“And is he single?”
“I don’t know!” I said, wishing she’d just change the subject. “We’re not quite Facebook friends just yet!”
It sounds so stupid, I know, but when Lauren said that, the thought of Xander Drake being taken I actually caused a little pang of jealousy somewhere deep inside me. As if someone like me — Cassie Lawrence from Nowheresville USA — had half a chance with a property tycoon like him! No, I had to be realistic about this, and stop my silly fantasizing. I had got a new job — great! — but that was all it was: an opportunity to wipe out some of my student debts. There was nothing more to it than that.
“Come on, let’s change the subject,” I pleaded.
“Okay,” said Lauren. “So apart from this Xander Whatever-his-name-is, do you have any other prospective boyfriends on the horizon?”
“You know I don’t,” I mumbled quietly, picking up my drink and taking a big swig to hide my face for a moment.
Lauren was always so much better at relationship stuff than me. She always seemed to have a guy or two on the go. Right now it was a computer programmer called Chad, who she said she had little in common with, but who was ‘surprisingly good’ in bed. And before that, It had been a slick-Rick salesman called Tony who she had confided had a ‘beautiful penis’, but ‘not much going on upstairs’. She was always so frank about sex, about her love-life, about everything. It was a quality I admired, but also one that had caused me countless blushes and squirms.
“We need to find you a man,” she said, her eyes searching around the bar, full of impish glee.
If only I had half of Lauren’s confidence, I thought to myself.
“I’m fine,” I said.
“How many times have I heard you say that, Cassie?” Lauren said, raising a perfectly-plucked eyebrow at me across the little table. “You’ve been single ever since I first met you. I’m starting to worry that you’ll become one of those lonely old spinsters or something, surrounded by hundreds of cats and empty take out boxes. You’re a pretty girl. You should have men falling over after you.”
I knew she was right.
And the truth was, apart from maybe not having the best taste in clothes and maybe not the greatest self-esteem, I didn’t know what exactly I was doing so wrong. Sure, I’d had the odd casual boyfriend here and there during college, but nothing that had lasted more than a few weeks or months. Nothing that had really mattered. I was still to fall in love.
“I’m fine,” I said again, firmly, wanting desperately to change the subject.
“Whatever you say,” Lauren said, visibly unconvinced.
I picked up my cocktail and knocked the rest of it back in one go, shuddering a little from the sharp taste of the mixed spirits.
“I’m going home,” I announced, perhaps a little more cold and abrupt than I’d intended it.
“Cassie,” Lauren said, lifting herself out of her seat. “Did I say something wrong? I’m sorry …”
“It’s fine,” I lied. “I’m just tired. I’d better get some sleep. See you soon.”
§
I spent the rest of the weekend holed away in my apartment, getting ready for Monday. I followed along to my DVD aerobics program until I was flushed and sweaty, and I arranged and rearranged my few meagre combinations of skirts and blouses, wondering which would look the best for my first full day at the office.
And I decided to wear another thong too; just a tiny, a silky purple wisp of material; a naughty thrill running though my mind as I pictured Xander’s hot hands running up my thighs as I pressed myself against him, the two of us alone in his office, that beautiful glittering skyline behind us, and as he tugged my skirt up around my waist, his urgent fingers cupped my bare buttocks and then slipped into the warm damp cleft between my butt cheeks, his fingertips lightly brushing against the soft silk of my panties, feeling the inviting warm wetness beneath, letting him know just how ready I already was for him …
Don’t get me wrong. I knew it was foolish to pick out my underwear in case, by some one-in-a-billion chance, he would see it, and as I tried out various different outfits, I again told myself to just give up on the idea that anything would ever happen between us.
It was just a silly little schoolgirl crush.
Lauren was absolutely right, I needed to find a guy. A real guy. Not some fantasy billionaire, who was so safe to dream about, knowing that nothing would ever actually happen between us.
And anyway, I told myself, Xander Drake is probably nothing like you’ve imagined him. He’s a real person, just like you, with all sorts of weird quirks and hang ups and problems of his own.
Oh, how true that turned out to be …
Chapter Five
§
Don’t Fall Down
That first morning, as Mr Drake gave me the full guided tour of the offices, I floated around as if in some sort of magical dream. I just couldn’t get over how ridiculously plush and stylish and slick everything and everyone was, and again I felt a sharp twinge of embarrassment, hoping that these sleek business types didn’t think I was some sort of impostor, some silly back-woods hick, tottering around on my ridiculous high heels.
“It’s a beautiful view,” I gasped, as Xander and I stood looking out from the large glass window at the sprawling cityscape below.
The sun shone and twinkled off the glass of the nearby office buildings, and Xander turned to me and smiled an impossibly perfect smile, flashing two rows of pure white, symmetrical teeth at me.
“It’s great, isn’t it?” he said. “This view is half the reason I built this building in the first place. Anyway, follow me, there’s lot’s more to see …”
He turned and led me off towards his office, and I followed dutifully behind him, my stomach fluttering a little as I registered again just how broad and strong his shoulders looked, and I pictured what his toned, tanned body must look like beneath his clothing.
Stop it, Cassie, I told myself. This isn’t the time to start thinking your naughty thoughts again …
§
Once I was in Xander’s office, I took a seat facing him, as he outlined the rest of my duties.
There was so much to remember, and I nodded and smiled and hoped that my face didn’t betray my inner panic and confusion as he went over the many different tasks he expected me to do.
I was to open any important-looking emails; I was to keep track of his appointments and lunch meetings using a special calendar document; I was to check in twice a day, once at eleven and once at three, to see if he had any specific extra tasks or errands he needed running; and I was to receive and forward any internal phone calls using the special phone system at my desk.
I nodded and smiled, wondering if perhaps I should have written all this down.
“Don’t worry,” he said, smiling again, my panic obviously showing on my face despite my best efforts to conceal it. “You’ll get the hang of it in no time, Cassie.”
Hearing him say my name in his rich, deep voice, I felt some thing melt inside me.
§
As my first day progressed, I slowly became acclimatized to my new surroundings. I spent the rest of the day at the little desk and computer that was stationed just outside Xander’s office, trying to get to grips with the shared calendar document which outlined all his many engagements for the rest of the year.
I looked over the large document in awe, registering the names of a dozen or more high-class restaurants, places I’d only ever read about in newspaper food reviews, and that was just for this month alone! As I clicked on and on through the rest of the year, Xander’s hectic, jet-setting lifestyle really began to sink in. He had meetings booked in Amsterdam, Helsinki, Tokyo, London, New Zealand, and — just like his restaurant bookings — the hotels he had chosen were always five-star.
Occasionally, the phone at my desk would ring and I would pick it up and answer it exactly as instructed, “Hello, Mr Drake’s office
, how may I help you?” and each time I spoke his name, I felt a delicious, illicit thrill. I found myself playing up my half-English accent a little more than in my everyday speech, too, wondering if this perhaps was the reason I’d got the job — to add a sophisticated, international air to his company communications?
§
That lunchtime, I knocked on the heavy, dark wood door to his office and waited until he called, “Come in,” in his beautiful, sonorous voice.
I stepped into the room, finding him standing over by the window, looking out solemnly at the city, sprawling below him.
“I’m just reminding you that you have a lunch meeting booked for one-thirty, at Corbieres, Mr Drake” I said, again playing up the Englishness in my voice, hoping he liked that part of me and perhaps found it exotic.
“Thanks, Cassie,” he said, turning and smiling back at me. “Oh hey, tell me, do I have anything booked in for lunch tomorrow yet?”
That very moment before stepping into his office, I had only just been looking at his bookings for that week, and so I felt a rush of pride as I was able to answer him immediately.
“No, tomorrow is completely free for lunch, Mr Drake,” I said.
“Very good,” he said. “Would you like to join me?”
I felt a hot flush rising to my cheeks and my stomach flipped over on itself. What the hell? Had he really just said that?
My eyes met his and he was looking at me expectantly, the mysterious hint of a smile playing across his full lips.
“Well?” he said, now returning to his serious, businesslike demeanor of before.