“Miss Blue. Miss Blue?” a voice says, sounding far away.
Holy shit. I space in and realize Bob’s calling my name.
“Yes?”
“Wondering what you thought about the question I just asked you.” Bob says condescendingly, crossing his arms.
My face warms and turns bright red. I have no clue what Bob is asking me, and the entire room is staring at me.
“Well, I uh,” I clear my throat.
A deep voice cuts me off from behind me.
“Ladies and gentlemen, it’s almost ten a.m. I think we had better wrap it up.”
Sebastian glances at his watch and then back at the rest of us.
Was he standing behind me the entire time?
Bob seems annoyed, like he was hoping to call me out in front of everyone.
“Let’s hit the floor people!” Sebastian says with a smile. “I want to hear some dials. Let’s drum up some business today. We have a lot of work to do this week.”
Sebastian claps his hands a few times and starts talking to another employee in the vicinity. Bob huff's toward me, clearly unhappy. Before I can close my notepad, he zooms in and slaps his palms down on one of the pages.
“Let’s see what kind of notes you were taking. Maybe I can help you.”
My heart about jumps up to my throat. I feel like I’m a girl about to be thrown in detention, not someone with a mature full time job.
“No, didn’t really take any,” I say, and attempt to close my notebook. Instead, Bob takes it from me and looks at it up close.
I’d giggle if I weren’t so worried what Bob will say about my notes, which I’m sure make no sense to him. As I suspect, he rubs a forefinger and thumb on his forehead as he tries to make sense of what I wrote.
“‘Better word for normal-style?’” he reads out loud, and his eyes dart to mine. His face is full of confusion.“What on Earth does that mean?”
I shrug. “Just something I was thinking about.”
“‘Dirtier...later?’ Okay now that one you’re gonna have to explain to me.”
I stand up, nervously looking up to Bob. He’s heavyset, and not really intimidating, but the fact that he’s got the power exasperates me. “I was just writing, if I ever have a meeting with one of the farmers later in the day, they are going to be covered in more dirt. So we should take that into account if we’re heading out to a farm site.”
Bob scratches the side of his thinning head of hair. “That’s what you were thinking about during this meeting?”
Sebastian, as if by sixth sense, notices the tension in the air, and calmly wheels around after ending his conversation with the other employee.
“Bob. Brett. Everything alright here?”
“No, everything's not alright,” Bob emphasizes. “Look at these notes she’s taking.” He hands him my notebook, and again, I feel like my work is being passed from teacher to principal.
“Hmm. Interesting. Bob, why don’t you head outside? I’ll take care of this.”
Bob shoots me a smug look like he won, and heads outside, leaving Sebastian and I alone in the big boardroom.
My gaze shoots to his big hands as he hands the notebook back to me. “Truthfully, I don’t give a fuck what you write in here if you’re closing deals,” he says, and shakes his head a little bit. “I’ll be honest, I am curious what those notes mean. But I’m not worried about it. All of the greatest CEOs and geniuses wrote weird notes to themselves.”
“Are you telling me I’m a genius?”
“You’re quite smart Brett. That much is evident to anyone with half a brain. You’ve got the brains, and the beauty.”
I swallow. “Thank you.”
“It’s a deadly combination in sales. I expect a lot out of you. And hey. You let me know about Bob. If he’s getting too out of it. He’s going through a divorce--tough time for him.”
“Oh. I didn’t know that.”
“Keep it on the downlow. Alright, anyways, I’ll see you later...dirtier.” He winks.
“Excuse me?”
He chuckles. “Your note. Dirtier later.”
“Ohh!” I cackle, apparently having the memory of a dog. It’s not my fault that I practically wilt in front of this man.
Sebastian swallows, and I wonder what it would be like to be dirtier--now--with him.
We head to the front of the room, and there just happens to be a basket full of Now-and-Laters on the edge of the table. “What’s your favorite flavor?” Sebastian asks, pulling out a couple.
“Cherry,” I say.
“Here you go,” he says, tossing one at me.
He turns off the lights as we head out the door, and I pop the cherry taffy into my mouth.
The next day, I close my first deal, buying a property to the east of Blackwell. Convincing the man wasn’t hard once he knew I was a local and I wasn’t trying to gyp him, just offer him a fair price to help him retire. I turn the deal over to our legal team, and there’s suddenly an air of awe from the people around me. Even Bob is impressed.
“No one has ever closed a property deal in their first month,” Bob comes over and tells me, his eyes wide with wonder.
I shrug. “They have now.”
I beam with some pride, but the truth is, I wouldn’t have been able to sell those properties if I weren’t Brett Blue’s daughter. Every call I make, when they ask me who I am, I don’t say “Brett from Blackwell Industries,” I just say “Brett Blue,” and they open up to me in ways they’d never open up to some of my colleagues, a few of whom are transplants from nearby big cities.
Since I’ve got my big sale out of the way, I decide to give myself the gift of writing more of my book. Knowing my boss will be off my back for once helps me to concentrate on what I really want to do: writing my romance novel.
I find it amazing that in a big company like Blackwell Industries, I can work at this for one or two hours a day and no one blinks an eye. On the other hand, my coworker Ed goes on fantasy football websites for probably the same amount of time during the day. So what difference does it make if I write?
I stay later, past seven, writing all the while. All of a sudden it’s eight p.m., the air conditioning in the building shuts off, and I realize I’m totally, completely alone in the building. I look at the calendar--September seventeenth.
My father passed away on the seventeenth of June--three months ago to the date. I wonder what he’d make of all this, me working at a company like Blackwell Industries. His dream was always for one of us to take over his farm, but I just don’t know if it’s in the cards.
I finish writing a scene where Lacy and her boss Zane finally kiss. She leans into him after a meeting, and he grabs her up against the wall and makes out with her.
Damn. I could use a make out session right about now. And plus, I’m extra worked up from writing this scene.
I decide that rather than go directly home, I want to make use of this pent up energy and work out using the building gym.
When I arrive to the fifth floor workout room, the lights are off and the gym is completely empty. No one on the treadmills, on the weights, or even in the hardwood room for abs and biking. I change into my yoga pants and a tank top, run a few minutes to warm up, then do a few arm exercises. There’s a wall mirror, and I check myself out in it.
I want to get a bigger ass--one of those ‘instagram asses’ like the girl Sebastian was with in the picture Crystal showed me.
I giggle. ‘Instagram ass.’ I’ll definitely put that term in the book.
I pull up YouTube and look at some butt workout videos. Apparently, squats and deadlifts are the thing to do. I chide myself for not remembering that from my high school soccer practices.
I decide to have some fun with it. I throw some music on my phone, blasting Fifth Harmony as loud as I can through my speaker. I put just a little bit of weight on the bar, and do some squats.
After a couple of sets, I change up the music and throw on a little Blurred Lines.
I smile to myself, thinking how this is kind of me and Sebastian’s song. How blurred are our lines?
I wouldn’t mind blurring them a little more. Sebastian is too classy for that, though. I’m pretty darn sure.
As the song is coming to an end, I freeze, thinking I hear something or someone else in the gym. I spin around, but don’t see a thing.
My endorphins must be humming, or maybe it’s the dancing I was doing. I head back into the ladies’ locker room to take a shower, since I’m super sweaty. My good vibes are interrupted when I turn the shower on and it fizzles out quickly.
I sigh, and come up with a plan. No one is here. The lights are even dimmed in the weight room. The chances of another person being here are slim to none, so why can’t I just use the men’s shower?
Wrapped in a towel, I grab my gym bag and sneak outside into the weight room, then head into the men’s locker room.
As I enter, I see a pair of shoes neatly sitting before one locker. Maybe someone left them overnight?
Still, I proceed into the locker room because I don’t hear a thing. But when I turn the corner, I drop my jaw at what I see in the shower stall.
Sebastian Blackwell stands in it, without the water on, pumping his big hard cock with one fist, eyes closed as he leans with the other hand against the wall. I’d seen him before, but this is something else.
I can’t help staring at him, my eyes wide. His wide shoulders narrow to a V, the veins of his abs and six pack so yummy I want to reach right over this blurred line and lick him.
I swallow, watching him for just this one instant. He jerks his head up, and I’m afraid he might see me, so I duck around the corner, hiding on the other side of the cinder block walls.
Now all I can hear is his grunting, his hard breathing, and the slick sound of skin on skin as he has it out with himself in the shower.
I wonder what he’s thinking about?
I hop up on the sink. From my position, if he walks out from the shower, I’ll hear him and have at least five seconds to slip out of the bathroom before he can lurch around the corner and see me. I glance down at my gym bag, my black Blackwell University cap sticking out of the top of the bag.
I’m so turned on from his sounds. I can’t help it. I ask myself the most ridiculous question ever. And I am a girl who has a history of asking herself ridiculous questions.
What would Lacy do?
My legs swinging as I sit on the sink countertop, I put two fingers on my clit and lean back, rubbing myself. I’m already so wet and turned on.
Lacy would walk right over to him and ask him something sexy, like ‘can I give you a hand with that?’
Zane would smile, a little surprised, but he’s a man who knew this was inevitable given the sparks that I have been creating between the two of them.
He’d frame her ass just right against the wall. He’d start the encounter by kneeling and diving between her legs with his tongue, getting her warmed up.
Oh sweet Lord. I rub my fingers over my slickness and resist moaning. I refocus on Sebastian. I can still hear him grunting and growling a little. And that slick, wet sound of him taking his cock in his hand. I wonder if he’s sliding his own precum on his cock? I wonder how it would taste?
Then Zane would put his hand on her back, sliding his thick cock into her wet pussy from behind, slowly entering her inch by inch.
I slide my fingers into my tight heat. I bite my lip as I picture Zane fucking Lacy.
No, screw that. I know what I’m thinking about. I let my imagination run with what I really want. Sebastian lays into me with his thick cock. I feel his muscular abs, his strong hips pound into me again and again.
I stifle a moan. My hips gyrate as I come.
Holy shit. I listen for a moment, and all I hear is the sound of my own breath.
The shower turns on for a minute, then it stops. I put two and two together.
Sebastian just came, and now he’s showering.
The shower stops.
Oh fuck. I need to get out of here.
I scramble to grab my gym bag, and run out of the gym room in a flurry. I throw my yoga pants, shirt and shoes back on as quickly as I can in the ladies locker room, and I decide I’ll shower at home.
The elevator dings, and I make it to my car.
Talk about blurred lines.
I make it out of there without a trace. Thank God.
Ten - Sebastian
On Wednesday morning, I stroll into work with a whistle and some pep in my step. I crank out my morning pullups, pushups, and situps. The sun rises on the horizon just like any normal day.
Well, about as normal as any day could be after you caught your hottest female employee watching you in the men’s bathroom of the gym.
Okay, let’s take it back a step. I wouldn’t say she ‘caught’ me like I was doing something I was ashamed of. Besides, it’s her fault I was masturbating in the shower. It’s not something I do--ever--at work.
But when I peeked into the hardwood room for a moment, I saw Brett doing squats and deadlifts in those black pants that were sculpted perfectly to her ass. As she performed the movements of the squat she awakened a part of me dormant for too long--the risky, sexual part of me.
And instead of getting my late Tuesday workout in like I had planned, I was unusually worked up. So I had myself a shower session.
Can you blame me? I mean, have you ever seen a guy try to work out with a giant boner that won’t go away? It’s damn near impossible. So I figured I’d work myself out before working out.
If the bathrooms had surveillance cameras, I would have commandeered those and figured out what she was doing in the men’s bathroom. While I was cranking my cock in the shower, I thought I heard the faintest of moans. I figured it was just my own imagination doing its thing as I pictured fucking Brett against the shower wall.
Okay, you got me. I pictured her. An employee. Is that against work policy to picture someone? Of course not. We can’t judge people on what’s between their own head.
Hey, if she didn’t leave her Blackwell University cap--and if I didn’t instantly recognize her smell in the cap she left behind--I might have never suspected it was her.
I take a sip of my morning joe, open up my email inbox, and get to work. I stare at the screen, but I feel like I’m looking at Chinese. I can’t concentrate worth a shit.
I scrub a hand across my newly clean shaven face and a burst of mischievousness fills me. Brett comes in every day, earlier than almost every employee. And now she stays late? She must be working double what one of my normal employees do.
I pull up the phone statistics to check. Every employee is expected to make thirty-five calls and talk on the phone for two hours.
Brett’s statistics are one hour on the phone and twenty five calls per day, below average.
So what the hell is she doing with her time? Online shopping? Why is she here so late?
Something doesn’t add up with her. What about those veiled notes she took during our meeting yesterday. “Better word for normal-style?” and ‘dirtier later?’
As I run my forefinger and thumb on my forehead, I remember we are running a new employee workgear efficiency software. It’s a little creepy how much data we can get from our employees. It even records the number of clicks and keystrokes they make per day, as well as the time their desktop is powered on. Personally, I don’t like encroaching on people’s privacy, but I also need to know where the weak points in the company are.
I pull up the rest of Brett’s statistics. Her keystroke number is way out of whack. I stare in disbelief at the amount, and I have to wonder if the software is somehow wrong.
Her keystrokes are quadruple her nearest competitor.
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What the fuck? Is she writing a damn novel?
I check my watch. Seven thirty, and at this time, Brett’s almost always sitting at her desk typing away. I decide to cross a little bit of a line. I go to the surveillance mainframe and pull up her desktop computer, so I see in real time what she’s doing. My screen becomes her screen.
She’s got a google document pulled up. And she’s typing something. A very long document. Curious, I scroll up and read her words.
“Lacy,” Zane breaths. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
Zane pants like he’s out of breath. His huge cock still in his hand, we make eye contact.
I swallow, nervousness expanding through my chest. I’ve never been a ballsy girl. But what I’m about to say might change that.
“Zane,” I mutter, dropping my towel in front of him. His eyes drift to my tits, then back up to my face. I take a few steps toward him until I’m basically standing in the shower, close to him. I can feel the heat emanating from his body. I reach out and put a delicate hand on those delicious abs I’ve been waiting to rub. “Can I...give you a hand?”
He cocks his chin up, and runs his eyes over my whole body, as if savoring my response.
“Yes. Fuck yes.”
He rubs his hand on my wrist, gently bringing me toward him. Electricity shoots down my spine as we cross the imaginary line between boss and employee. He’s so tall, my tits rub against his abs as we embrace. He turns the faucet of the shower, and the warm water runs over our bodies as we kiss for one, two, three minutes. I lose track of time. While he nibbles on my lower lip, I run my hand down his wet side, searching for his cock. It’s so prominent, his erection sticking straight out. It’s not hard to find. He groans as I grip his cock, gently at first.
Zane pulls back from my neck for a moment, and fists my hair in his hand, forcing me to look him in the eye. “I’ve wanted you so badly since you walked through that door,” Zane growls. “You have no idea.”
“Me too,” I whisper back.
His moans intensify as I stroke back and forth tighter on his cock, using his precum juices to slide across my clit with ease.
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