“Sorry, I have to say this again, I can’t believe it,” she said shaking her head.
“We emailed her both Three Dark Hours and The Dungeon Master, and she didn’t hesitate,” Brad assured her. “She’s as excited as we are. She’ll come over late tomorrow with the paperwork, and then you, Ralph Brader, Gail and I are all going out to Raphael’s for dinner.”
“What? You’re kidding? Raphael’s? That’s about the best place in town,” she exclaimed.
“It’s a celebration, and Ralph and Gail want to spend some time with you, get to know you better.”
“Amazing,” Isobel muttered.
“We have arranged for an intern to help me out while I find a new secretary. She’ll come over tomorrow and so you can show her how things work around here, then come Friday you’re done. Your job will be to get cracking on the novel.”
“This is all happening so fast,” she breathed.
“Yes, it is, and I pushed for it,” he declared. “I’ve been wanting to do something along these lines for months, and the powers that be have finally agreed. I’ll be looking for more writers, but Three Dark Hours is going to be the first novel released under the new banner.”
“This is so exciting, and congratulations,” she said eagerly. “What are you going to call it?”
“Good question, haven’t quite figured that out yet though I have a few ideas,” then pausing he added, “maybe we can come up with something together.”
“I’d love that,” she smiled.
“The contract for the publication of the book is being drawn up, and I’ll be giving it to Gail when she comes tomorrow. Ralph has authorized a very generous advance which you’ll receive when you sign the paperwork, and that, Isobel, will be that.”
“I honestly don’t know what to say,” she breathed, “except, thank you, thank you, thank you.”
“Hey, I’m the one who should be thanking you,” he replied, then dropping his voice he asked, “Isobel, I’m curious, how did Three Dark Hours come about? Was it just a thought you had?”
“Um, not exactly,” she mumbled. I guess it’s time to tell him everything.
“What?” he pressed sensing her discomfort.
“That class I told you about, the whole teacher thing,” she began, “it’s a creative writing class, and Patrick, that’s the teacher, he gave us an assignment to write a short story using that title. I chose to write what I did after I read that chapter and hand it in for my assignment.”
“Ah, I think I understand. You turned it in and that’s when...”
“Exactly,” she muttered her face flushing.
“I see,” he said quietly, and he loved what he read and decided to take you up on your invitation.
Brad felt a wave of jealous sadness, and fighting the uncomfortable feeling he leaned across his desk.
“Two questions,” he began. “First, do you have any ideas about how to turn the story into a full length novel?”
“Definitely,” she said eagerly, relieved that the subject had changed. “I can write up the synopsis tonight if you want.”
“Hey, you don’t officially go on the writing clock until Monday so why don’t you just relax until then. Give yourself the opportunity to bask in the glory,” he suggested.
“I really like that idea,” she nodded. “What’s the second question?”
“Have you decided what to do about the teacher and the unwanted email?”
“Oh, that problem’s been solved,” she beamed. “Class is tomorrow night and I can’t be in two places at once.”
“Temporarily solved,” he said soberly.
“Yes, I suppose, temporarily solved,” she agreed.
“If you need to talk to me I’m here.”
“Thanks, Brad, thanks for everything. I’ll figure it out.”
“I’m going to give you all this paperwork,” he smiled picking up the files and handing them across the desk, “and you can look it over. If you have any questions you can ask Gail when she gets here, or all of us at dinner tomorrow night.”
Taking the folders Isobel stared at her soon to be former boss; his glasses were off and his milk-chocolate eyes were twinkling at her. She noticed his lips, curled in a slight smile, were full and moist, and she suddenly had an overwhelming desire to kiss them.
“What is it?” he asked softly.
“Huh? Nothing, I was just, uh, thinking,” she stammered, and taking the folders she stood up to leave. “I’m going to get some coffee, would you like some?” she asked wondering why her butterflies had unexpectedly sprung to life.
“I’d love to share a cup of coffee with you,” he smiled, “but how about we go across the street to that cafe and I buy you a cup of something decent.”
“Okay, that works,” she grinned.
Standing side-by-side at the elevator as they had done countless times before, she felt something; an invisible energy was floating between them. As the elevator doors opened and he placed his hand at the small of her back to usher her forward, a warm energy traveled through her sweater and landed against her skin.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The last rope was in place, and tied over the ottoman, her black garter belt and stockings framing her hauntingly white skin, Brad glided his palm over her waiting backside.
“I was very clear, finish the chapter by the end of the day or get your bottom spanked. Didn’t you believe me?”
“No, not really, I thought you were just...”
“Just what?” he pressed.
“Just, you know, fooling around,” she whimpered.
“Do you believe me now?” he asked sternly following the question with a hard slap.
“OW, well, yeah, you’re doing it,” she quipped.
“What an impudent girl you are. I think a few swats of my paddle might be in your future, young lady. First though, I’m going to spank you good and hard with my hand, just so you know I’m serious about these things.”
“I’m sorry,” she bleated. “I’ll finish tonight before I go to bed, I promise.”
“Too little too late, and you have to learn I mean what I say.”
His flattened palm began its work, landing smack after smack, painting her bare moons hot pink. Her pleas for mercy and cries of apology went unheeded as he spanked without pause, determined to show her that laziness would not be tolerated.
She squeezed her eyes shut, but in spite of the stinging pain she could not deny the sizzling energy sparking through her sex.
Isobel’s eyes flashed open. Her room was dark and still, the only sound her heavy breathing and the thumping of her heart.
“What the hell?” she whispered to the empty space surrounding her. “Sure, he was cute and sexy today but...damn...that was some dream.”
She flashed back to the warmth of his hand on her back, the lack of the usual formalities as they’d sat and chatted over coffee, and the tenderness she saw in his eyes when he walked her to her car.
Brad? Am I really attracted to Brad? Is something happening between us? Huh, Brad spanking me, wow.
Closing her eyes she tried to fall back asleep but the lucid vision had left her wet and needy. Dropping her fingers to play against her sex she rubbed aggressively, and uninvited Brad made a return visit.
He was smoothing something hard and cool over her burned skin, telling her the paddling she was about to receive was not just because she needed it, but because she’d admitted to not having experienced a hard piece of leather swatting her bottom.
“You’ve been able to write about things you’ve not experienced convincingly, but you failed when it came to being paddled; in that last chapter it was obvious.”
“It was?” she squeaked.
“To me it was, probably not to everyone, but to me, and since I’m in charge of maintaining your standards it’s something that must be corrected. Are you ready?”
Isobel’s busy fingers massaged and circled her clit as the fantasy swept her forward to her moment. For years she
had fantasized about a paddle landing on her bottom, and now the fantasy was about Brad delivering the imagined blows, not Patrick, not the blue-eyed, black-haired hero of her fantasies.
“I asked if you’re ready?” he said sternly, the vision calling her back.
“Yes, yes,” she wailed, “I’m ready!”
As she pictured the black paddle landing squarely on her behind, the energy surged through her sex and the explosive climax shuddered through her.
The spasms began to wane, then dissipate, and letting her fingers fall from between her legs she let out a long, deep sigh.
“Weird. Brad. Wow.”
Across town in his traditional, warm home, the competent, no-nonsense, rising star of Brader, Brader and Coombs was pacing around his living room with a scotch in his hand.
Isobel is attracted to me, I can feel it. It’s not my imagination, I’m sure of it.
If he was right, if the woman he’d been lusting after for months, and astonishingly shared his dark kink, it was a dream come true, but how could he make the dream a reality? Very soon she wouldn’t be working for him which would certainly help, but he would be responsible for her novel. Could he sustain a relationship with one of his authors? Would the company bosses even condone such a thing? Taking a sip of the rich, spicy amber alcohol, he shook his head as it slid down his throat.
“There’s only one thing I can do,” he mumbled. “I have to talk to Ralph, lay it on the line, and pray he’ll give me his blessing.”
Downing the last of his drink he placed the heavy crystal tumbler on the coffee table and headed into his bedroom. Stripping quickly he fell into bed, and closing his eyes, wrapped his fingers around his urgent cock. In spite of the late hour and the scotch lulling his brain he could easily see her at his mercy, standing with her cuffed wrists pulled high above her head, a spreader bar between her ankles.
His hand quickened as he imagined drawing her puckered nipples into his mouth while moving his hands behind her to slap her ass. It was a long-held fantasy, one he’d yet to bring to life with any woman, and though it was simple in nature, the thought that he might experience it with Isobel sent shards of sensation through his loins.
“I’d baby oil your bottom first,” he mumbled, “and spank that slippery skin while I suck your tits.”
The imagery evolved, and he saw his fingers sliding between her hot cheeks to explore the out-of-bounds territory...his cock exploded, jerking in his hand, expelling his essence across his fingers as he groaned loudly, the orgasm tingling his skin, sending glorious wave after wave of pleasure.
Too exhausted and spent to stumble to the bathroom he grabbed the edge of his sheet and wiped himself, then succumbed to the heavy sleep that quickly overwhelmed him.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
It was midmorning when a bright young blonde bubbled into the office. She was nineteen and full of verve, thrilled at the prospect of working for Brad Saunders, and as Isobel’s eyes fell upon her perfectly pretty face, her perfectly pretty clothes, and her perfectly visible cleavage, she felt a prickling at the back of her neck.
“Hi,” the girl beamed. “I’m Brittany.”
“Of course you are,” Isobel muttered. “Is that your real name or did you change it so people would compare you to Brittany Spears?”
“Huh? What?” the girl frowned.
“Brittany, hello, glad you could join us,” Brad smiled as he stood in his doorway. “Isobel will show you the ropes, and don’t worry if you get a bit befuddled. Next week when you’re by yourself just ask me if anything seems confusing and I’ll be happy to help you.”
“Thanks, Mr. Saunders,” she grinned. “I’m really excited about working for you.”
“Brad, please call me Brad, we’re not formal around here, are we Isobel?”
“Uh, no,” Isobel replied, noting that Brittany was eyeing Brad like a cat watching a tasty goldfish in a bowl. “Why don’t you fetch a chair from the conference room down the hall so you can sit next to me?”
“Oh, good idea,” Brittany giggled. “I can’t stand around all day, not in these heels.”
As she clip-clopped out in what Isobel thought was a too-short skirt, Brad smiled knowingly.
“Something wrong, Isobel?”
“What? No, everything’s fine,” she replied lightly. “I’m crazy happy, and I can’t wait for dinner tonight.”
Moving slowly across to her desk he perched himself on the edge and stared down at her.
“You can’t kid a kidder,” he said dropping his voice. “You don’t like her.”
Feeling the telltale blush cross her cheeks, she shifted uncomfortably and stared back at him.
“She’s very, uh, trendy,” and I don’t know why, but I’m suddenly feeling jealous and possessive. I don’t want her sitting in my chair, bringing you coffee, giggling at your jokes.
Brad knew the green-eyed monster when he saw it; he shook his head, and though he didn’t approve he felt a twinge of delight.
“Isobel, she’s young and enthusiastic,” he said with a slightly scolding tone to his voice, “and you were like that once. Not trendy, as you put it, you’ve never been trendy, but don’t you remember when you first came dashing in here for your interview? You were out of breath and excited, and ten minutes late, full of apologies. That wasn’t so long ago.”
“Sorry,” she mumbled, “I guess I’m feeling a bit weird about someone taking my place.”
“That’s understandable,” he nodded, “your life has unexpectedly and dramatically changed, but it’s all good. Be magnanimous, make it easy on her, it’ll be less stressful for you if you go with the tide.”
“Right,” she sighed.
“Could you help me?”
Brittany’s voice caught them both off guard, and looking across the foyer they saw her struggling with the chair, her high heels making it difficult for her to carry it. In spite of his kindly lecture, as Brad hurried forward Isobel rolled her eyes.
A helpless female, just what I need.
Brad positioned the chair, and trying to control her simmering irritation, Isobel grit her teeth as Brittany batted her false eyelashes at him.
“Thank you so much, Mr...sorry, I mean, Brad,” she gushed.
“You’re welcome. I must get back to work,” he smiled, and turning on his heel he strode back into his office.
Settling into his desk he quietly chuckled. Isobel’s testiness wasn’t about her chair, or her desk, or her work, it was about him, and buoyed by the evidence of her attraction to him he flashed back to his fantasy.
Maybe I’ll have you strung up and in a spreader bar sooner than I thought.
Though Isobel did her best to be patient she found Brittany’s personality annoying, and when the lunch hour rolled around and Brittany headed off to meet some fellow interns, Isobel breathed a sigh of relief.
Normally she’d wander across the street to the mall and meander around the bookstore, or sit in the food court and people watch, but she’d not been able to read her emails. Once Brittany had perched her perfect posterior on the chair next to her, Isobel couldn’t do anything personal.
Deciding to pop down to the small cafe in the building for something light to eat after she’d caught up with her life, she opened up her account and scanned her mail, and when she saw Patrick had sent her another note her heart stopped.
Darn it, I still haven’t told him I won’t be there tonight.
Clicking on the message she took a deep breath and began to read.
Hello Isobel.
What a naughty girl you are, not acknowledging my email yesterday. At the very least you should have sent a Yes, Sir, or Thank you, Sir, but nothing? Perhaps my email fell into cyber space, but my instinct tells me that’s not what happened, and for some reason known only to yourself you have chosen not to respond.
Perhaps you want me to spank you soundly tonight. I most certainly will. Such impudent behavior will not be tolerated, and I am seriously considering not allowing
you any pleasure after your punishment.
Until tonight,
Patrick
“Another unwelcome email?” Brad asked.
She hadn’t heard him leave his office, and as she looked up from her screen she nodded her head woefully.
“In all the excitement yesterday I forgot to tell him I won’t be at class tonight. He’s accused me of being impudent and impolite.”
“From his point of view I suspect he feels justified,” Brad remarked.
“What should I tell him?” she frowned.
“The truth,” Brad replied firmly. “The truth will set you free; a hackneyed phrase but one that’s generally correct. I have to run, I have a lunch appointment that you forgot to remind me about,” he scolded.
“Oh, shoot, I’m sorry,” she apologized clicking over to the calendar on her computer. “James Dennison, at your club. Will you be late?”
“I will,” he nodded, “but I’ve called him so he knows,” and one of these days I’m going to spank you for this mistake.
“You’re looking at me funny,” she remarked. “What?”
“I’ll tell you next week,” he smiled as he walked into the foyer and pushed the elevator call button.
“Tell me now!” she demanded standing up from her desk.
“Hey, you still work for me,” he said sternly, shaking his finger at her. “Don’t start getting too big for those cute shoes of yours.”
The elevator dinged, and as she watched him disappear she felt the urgency between her legs.
Damn, why didn’t I ever see how flippin’ sexy he is before now? And that cologne, why can’t I place it? Okay, Patrick, back to you, how should I respond?
Sitting back down she opened up a new email form and began to type.
Hi Patrick:
I’m really sorry I didn’t get back to you immediately. Your email was very compelling, and thank you for sending it. Yesterday I had some astonishing things happen and got completely distracted, and tonight I have to attend a very important, last minute dinner. It’s all work related, and very exciting, but it’s news I must tell you in person. If I didn’t think it would end late I’d swing by the school and fill you in.
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