by ANDREA SMITH
It was fairly crowded and a bit noisy as I expected. I took a seat at the bar, ordering a bourbon and branch. There were a few single women at the bar. A dark redhead caught my attention immediately as she gazed over at me over the rim of her wine glass. Her skin was ivory, her eyes - even from this distance - were extraordinarily large and luminous. I decided they were probably green or blue. Her lips were full and pouty - the kind I liked gliding my cock past. She was dressed expensively, certainly not in the usual chic-but-cheap garb of a hooker. I instructed the bartender to send her a drink. Several minutes later, she carried her drink down to my end of the bar.
"Thanks for the drink," she said, with a glowing smile. "I'm in town on business and I just hate going to a bar alone, but the thought of staying in my hotel suite tonight didn't appeal to me either. I'm sorry I'm rambling, my name's Tiffany."
"It's lovely to meet you Tiffany. My name's Easton. Would you care to join me?"
"I'd be delighted to, Easton. Next round's on me," she replied, tossing me a sexy smile.
"Where are you staying?" I inquired.
"St. Regis," she replied with a shrug. "It's where I usually stay when I travel to D.C. Sort of feels like a second home."
"I know what you mean," I said, "It's the same for me. What type of business are you in, Tiffany, if I may ask?"
She seemed to like the sound of her name on my lips. "Of course, you may," she cooed, pulling one of her business cards from her handbag to give me.
"Let's see," I said, smiling, "Tiffany Brandt, Executive V.P., Winfield Executive Resources, Boston, Massachusetts. I'm impressed."
"Thank you," she replied, softly. "I love what I do, how about you?"
"Oh I don't think I can top that," I lied, gracing her with a wink. "I'd love to hear more about your recruitment firm. Perhaps we can have our nightcap back at the hotel?"
"I'm game for that," she said. "The noise level in here seems to be escalating. Your suite or mine?"
"It doesn't matter," I replied, signaling for the bar tender to bring my tab. "Wherever you feel more comfortable, Tiffany."
"How about you come to my suite - it's 602 in about twenty minutes?"
"Sounds like a plan," I replied, taking a final swig of my cocktail.
She pulled a pen out of her handbag and wrote "6-0-2" on the back of the business card she'd given me, fearful I might have problems remembering a three-digit number.
"I'll have a cocktail waiting for you, bourbon, correct?"
"You're amazing," I laughed. "Yes, bourbon it is."
"Alright then. I'll see you at my place in about twenty."
"I'm looking forward to it," I replied, pocketing her business card and handing my credit card to the bartender who happened to be grinning from ear to ear. Tiffany departed for the hotel, no doubt to order our drinks and to administer a quick douche before my arrival. As if any part of me was planning to head south of her bellybutton apart from my sheathed cock.
The bartender returned with the register receipt for my signature. "Hey man, I'm sorry but I just need to ask you something. How'd you manage that?"
"I beg your pardon?" I asked, stuffing my credit card back into my wallet.
"That chick's been hit on at least four times this evening. I don't think she had to buy one of her drinks tonight. You show up and in and less than ten minutes, you hook up. I mean, I'm impressed. Feel like sharing your secret?"
I gave him a conciliatory smile, looking at his name tag. "Perhaps it's just timing, Jeff," I replied, standing up to leave. "Right now, I have some pussy waiting."
"Hey," he called out as I reached the door, "Let me know if she's a true redhead." I heard the sound of laughter behind me as the door closed. Men could be pigs sometimes. There was no doubt about that.
Disgusting.
I headed back to my suite at the hotel, the same one I had when Darcy had visited that night. I still had the mental picture of her wearing that sweater and tight “fuck me” skirt, looking as if she was afraid I’d pounce on her the second she made her decision to cross the threshold. She’d looked sweet, vulnerable, and sexy all at once. And completely malleable. My cock twitched at the memory. Darcy was going to be a hard act to follow for any woman and the stunning redhead waiting in "6-0-2" was no exception.
I loosened my tie, pulling it off, tossing it onto the sofa. I reached into the breast pocket of my business shirt and pulled out Tiffany's business card staring at it for a moment. Part of me (the part below the belt) wanted to go to her suite in fifteen minutes, knowing it'd probably only take another ten to sink my cock into her and get the relief I desperately craved. Another part of me wasn't entirely on board with the idea.
I ripped the card into pieces, letting them scatter to the floor. I continued stripping my clothes off, dropping them along the way to the huge bathroom where in the privacy of the large marble shower, I took things into my own hands.
How fucking pathetic was that?
The following Monday, freshly rested, the new and improved Darcy Sheridan dressed for success at the office. The short, tight, skimpy skirts, the practically see-through gauzy blouses, plunging neckline sweaters and spiked heels were history as far as my job was concerned. I'd been given an opportunity and I dared anyone there to insinuate it was because I showed ass or cleavage!
I dressed in a heather gray, wool, pencil skirt that fell mid-calf, with a pleat slit in the back that didn't go up any further than the back of my knee. I wore a black, silk long-sleeved blouse with a collar, leaving only the top button undone. I accessorized with a delicate silver necklace, small silver hoop earrings, and black two-inch pumps, wearing the recommended "nude" color pantyhose. Very professional; trendy yet conservative.
Over the weekend I'd gone online and found a great web-site for professional women called "professionalimagedress.com" for the latest tips. With my vast wardrobe, it'd actually been difficult to find the proper length skirt. So a shopping trip was in order to purchase a few appropriate items of business attire. I pulled my hair back into a low ponytail as the site indicated stating it provided an air of professionalism for those with long locks, and was less distracting. I was good to go!
Eli did a double-take when I came downstairs before he had left to meet his friends at Starbucks.
"You didn't tell me you got another job already. A library or museum I'm guessing by the looks of your ensemble. Ann Klein?""Oh bite me, Eli. This is a new chapter in my book. I intend to be professional just like you suggested and that includes wardrobe."
"Sweetie, last I heard you didn't work in a convent," he chuckled. "Why are you up so early, anyway?"
"I think it shows commitment on my part to go beyond the call of duty, you know? I mean I don't want to be labeled as an "8 to 5"er by my colleagues."
"They wouldn't dare," he said, feigning anger. "Everyone knows you're more like an "8:15-8:30ish to 4:45" chick."
"Oh, you're on top of your game this morning, Eli. Go ahead though. You'll see I'm serious about this, especially with my new position."
Shit!
"What new position?"
"Oh, well that's the reason Easton wanted to take me to dinner the other night. He has an opportunity for me at work. Since Lacee's now Team Leader, he wants me to assume her former position as his executive assistant."
"Really?" he said, eyeing me warily. "What will your new job duties entail, exactly?"
"I know what you're thinking. I thought the same thing and made sure we got that out in the open. I made myself perfectly clear on that matter, and he understood, though of course, he was disappointed."
"Uh-huh," he said, shaking his head.
"What? I did!"
"Oh, I'm sure you did but come on, don't be naïve, Darce. Easton Matthews is a master at getting what he wants, otherwise he wouldn't be where he is today. Do you really think he's content with having just a business relationship with you after you and he did the dirty deed over a six-hour period?'
"First of all, i
t was a five-and-a-half-hour period. Second of all, Easton Matthews doesn't have a problem in the free world of getting any woman he wants into bed. He as much as told me he won't be lonely in the sack when I made it clear there'd be no more - well, you know."
"Uh-huh," he repeated, this time with an eye roll. "Let me ask you this: is there a pay increase involved?"
"A slight one," I lied, quickly adding, "The important thing isn't salary, but the opportunities to learn from the best, to carve my career path with a clear vision of my growth potential."
"Okay, really? I just vomited in my mouth," Eli said, giving me a look of absolute and incredulous disgust. Once he got his natural facial features back to normal, he gave me the 'ol best-friend look and sighed. "Just be careful, okay? That's all I'm gonna say. The dude has ulterior motives - and before you get all pissy, the answer's yes."
"Yes to what?"
"Yes, I think you're smart and capable of being groomed for that position, and for that matter, have the potential for going as high as you want within any company. Just please make sure you don't pay a price at BS."
"BS?"
"Baronton-Sheridan, that's what we all decided to call it since the new name's too much of a mouthful and sounds pretentious. Hey, how about that? I just drew a nice parallel, didn't I?"
"What do you mean?" I asked, furrowing my eyebrow in confusion.
"Easton and his company name: both pretentious, both a mouthful." He was snickering as he put his jacket on.
"Oh my God! That's the last time I fill you in on my men, I mean it."
"See you at work, sweetie. Good luck!"
I arrived at work promptly at 7:20 a.m. before any of the others in my department had arrived. I figured if my transitioning into Lacee's old job started today, I wanted to get caught up on the data entry backlog I had. By 8:30, I was completely finished with the stack of documents, and had completed my filing. Of course, the batches of documents to enter arrived almost hourly in my in-basket, but that would be my replacement's worry.
My desk phone rang and the caller-ID told me it was "E. Matthews," jump-starting the butterflies that'd been lying dormant in my stomach. But I was fairly sure it was because, despite our friendly hang-out last night, I was anxious to show him I was a professional, clearly capable of being his new executive assistant.
"Good morning, this is Darcy Sheridan. How may I help you?" I answered in a very professional tone.
His rich, silky voice still had the ability of give me goose-bumps, something I was sure would diminish over time.
"Good morning, Darcy. Are you ready to begin your mentoring?"
"Yes, sir."
"Can you come by my office now so that I can de-brief you on your training schedule for this week and next? Lacee will start working with you this afternoon, but there are a few things I think you might start on now. I've already cleared this new assignment with HR."
"Certainly, I'll be right there," I said. I grabbed my handbag and a notepad, and went up to the executive suites. Easton was occupying an empty one on the other side of the hall from my father's. It'd been a conference room with an adjacent office leading from it.
As I crossed the threshold to his office, I admired how quickly he'd furnished it to his taste. Leather high back chair, dark mahogany desk and credenza, matching leather chairs for visitors, and a conference table with more chairs in the corner. The paintings on his wall were expensive and tasteful. His office was orderly and immaculate, just like he was. He looked up as I walked in, surveying with those intense gray eyes of his.
"Please have a seat," he said, standing up.
Ever the gentleman . . . Well. Sometimes…
"Thank you," I said, smiling, taking a seat across from his desk.
"Uh, has there been a dress code implemented I wasn't made aware of?" he asked, smiling, still looking at my ensemble.
"Not exactly," I shrugged, mentally trying to run over and hit reverse on those damn butterflies that weren't going away. "I felt that in my new position, some decorum might be appropriate, sir."
"Okay, well about decorum - no more 'sirs' and that's a rule I have with all of my employees. I want the feeling of family here, not some rigid hierarchy. So you may resume calling me 'Easton."
"Of course, si--Easton," I replied, quickly catching myself.
"As for dress codes, I'm a proponent of business casual for the employees and that includes you."
"But you're wearing a suit," I argued gently.
"I am," he replied, "I've got a business appointment later today. On days where I have meetings with clients, customers, important people or potential partners its customary for me to dress in business suits. If my schedule's clear, I wear business casual."
"I see," I replied, making notes on my steno pad. "Do you even own business casual?" I blurted unthinkingly. He cocked an eyebrow at me and then smiled.
"Of course. I'm a man of many tastes."
Easton had me pull my chair around next to his so that we could go over his Day Planner for the rest of the week - or as he referred to it "his diary." (Another Britishism I figured.) He provided me with a new planner of my own so that I could copy down what he had scheduled so far for the next two weeks. He showed me the special coding he had on meetings, appointments, luncheons which meant I needed to re-confirm on the day prior to the event.
He also gave me a list of other office equipment and supplies he wanted me to get on order, and asked that I schedule some time with Helen in Purchasing to learn the purchase requisition system here so that I could electronically forward them on indirect spend. I was hurriedly scribbling notes on everything he wanted me to handle today and tomorrow, including getting my office next to his furnished in whatever I wanted. I had to refrain from doing a full on fist-pump when he got to the part about me having my own personal office.
He also requested I schedule some time with the Accounts Payable Department to learn how the invoices for expense spends were matched for payment, and to provide him a listing of all employees authorized to approve requisitions and the spending limits for each. He wanted a full listing of general ledger account numbers and descriptions, as well as year-to-date spending for each.
"I assume you're computer literate with spreadsheets, power point, and word processing?" he asked.
"I'm a whiz," I said, smiling. Just then there was a tap on the door. It was Lacee.
"I'm finished with the first group of employees from R & D, Easton," she said. For some reason the way she used his name made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.
"Brilliant," he said, glancing at his watch. "It’s lunch time now. Lacee, would you mind sending out for sandwiches? Darcy and I are having a working lunch today. Once I turn her over to you in say an hour and a half you can acquaint her with the access codes to my working files and show her how to track the various metrics we're going to put in place here shortly."
"That'll be fine," she answered, not hiding her displeasure at having to be around me for the afternoon. She seemed particularly out of sorts with the close proximity of Easton and me.
"Splendid," he said, turning his attention back to me. "Ready for some fun?"
I was fuming as Easton and I walked out into the parking lot towards the SUV he nodded to a little after six that evening. He flipped the button for the electronic locks and opened the door for me and as I slid into the passenger seat, all I thought about was ripping him to shreds as soon as he got in. I knew I couldn't do that. He was, after all, the head honcho. I needed to chill out for a few and collect my thoughts.
He slid into the driver's seat, throwing me a smile and pulled out of the lot. Finally, I could contain my anger no longer.
"What the hell?" I snapped. "You said earlier you had a business meeting later this afternoon and would be gone the rest of the day. Then you show back up and insist - in front of Lacee may I add - that I have dinner with you. What's this about?"
"I can't keep a thing from you, can I?" he teased.
"You and I are having dinner together at Christine's."
"You're so clueless," I snarled. "People call me spoiled? My God, you give the word a whole new meaning! I thought we hashed this out last night?"
"You're over-reacting. It's simply dinner not an orgy for Chrissake. I do have things to discuss with you that are business-related, and it's not healthy for you to get all of your training in the office."
It was my turn to cock an eyebrow at him.
What's he up to?
"Did it ever occur to you I might've had other plans for dinner?"
"That's irrelevant to me."
This was going nowhere so I simply clammed up until we reached Christine's located down the street from his hotel. I breathed a sigh of relief when he passed the hotel. I'd suspected he might've had a hidden agenda when I noticed we were going downtown.
The server handed us our menus, took our drink orders and then disappeared. The silence now was obvious. My hands were clasped together resting on the table. I was totally shocked when Easton placed his hands over mine in a gesture of affection which up to this point had been non-existent. I looked up at him, and was way surprised to see what I found there. He was looking at me with an expression that was somewhere between confusion and uncertainty. And with a man like Easton, I wasn't sure whether that was a good sign . . . or a very, very bad one.
"Easton," I said, trying to feel him out. "I'm getting some very mixed signals here." I tried to pull my hands back but his grip was strong. He didn't release his hold.
"It's simple, I've missed being with you."
"What do you mean? We were just together last night. We spent almost all morning together at the office, we had a working lunch together and now you've hauled me out for dinner. I'd say over the last 24 hours, we've spent more time together than most married couples."
"Don't play with me," he quipped. "You know what I'm talking about. This doesn't bode well for me."