by Penny Wylder
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1
Alyssa
These shoes were the wrong choice for this party. Not even an hour in, and it feels like I'm stepping on nails. Big ones. But, given everything, the party isn't as bad as I thought it would be. Let's be honest, who actually wants to go to work parties--especially for a company they haven't even started to work for? But I didn't have anything better to do tonight. If we're honest I rarely have anything to do that's social. Sigh.
But the music here is actually from this decade and Saxon Hotels, Inc. didn't skimp on the alcohol. It could be worse. I look across the room for Molly--the girl from HR who let me know I was hired and invited me tonight. She greeted me and then promptly abandoned me, which is why I am currently making my permanent residence the shadowy corner by the drinks table. But, like I said, it could be worse.
A blonde girl wearing a pink dress approaches the table of drinks. The dress hugs curves on her that are frankly just unfair. As if she can sense me thinking about her she's suddenly looking at me, and then she's gliding over. "You're Alyssa, right? Molly told me we had a new hire, and you're the only person I don't recognize."
"Yeah, that's me." I smile. "I figured I'd skip the awkward first day and go straight to getting drunk with my coworkers."
"Solid choice." She says, "We do enjoy getting drunk. Though this is nothing compared to our New Year's Party. People usually don't make it through that one unscathed." She scans the room, "You see that guy over there? That's Mark. He's the typical bender guy--you know every office has one. Last New Year's he got so drunk he bought everything in the vending machine and woke up the next day shirtless and covered in cheetos."
I choke on my drink. "Wow."
She gives me a small conspiratorial smile and scans the room again. "Over there in the blue? That's Chelsea. A couple of years ago she ended up in the mail room with more than one of the interns." She gives me a look that leaves no doubt about her opinion on Chelsea.
I force a laugh and pray I never get on this woman's bad side. I'm glad I'm finally feeling my Cosmo start to relax my body. "You seem to know everyone's dirt."
"Oh, I know everything." She smiles smoothly. "I'm Jennifer, by the way."
I shake her hand. "Nice to meet you. You already know my name."
"I do, but I don't know what desk you'll be at tomorrow."
"Executive Secretary for Charles Saxon." I take a sip of my drink.
"Wow."
It doesn't seem like a happy or friendly 'wow.' "Is there something wrong with him?" I haven't met him, but his name is on the door, so I figure he can't be that bad.
"No, no." She says a little too quickly. "Have you met him yet?"
"Not yet. He was out of the office for meetings today. Molly said that he signed off on my resume. So I guess tomorrow will either be really great or really terrible--no in between."
She presses her lips together. "Can I tell you something, just to make it easier for you?"
"Sure. I mean, you've already proved that you know everything." I wink, knowing she's already decided to tell me.
She doesn't laugh. "Listen...it's just that Charles has a certain...reputation with women."
"What do you mean?"
She reaches out and puts her hand on my shoulder, I can tell she wants to look concerned. "I mean that you're very pretty, and he's very charming. He's also incredibly hot. So just be careful."
I laugh. "Don't worry. I've known more than my share of men like that. It takes more than charm to get under my skirt. I'll set some boundaries as soon as I meet him."
She nods. "Good."
"There you are!" Molly appears from out of nowhere, slinging her arm around my shoulder, clearly having already had more drinks than I have. "I'm so happy that you came, did I tell you that? And I see that you met Jenn. She's my eyes and ears. Whatever you need, she'll help you."
"She will indeed." I say, smiling. I take another sip of my drink only to find it empty. "Be right back, I'm getting a refill."
Molly switches her chatter to Jennifer as I step away and make myself another drink. Definitely not bad. If everyone is this friendly and relaxed I think I'm going to like working here, even if I have to keep the boss at arms length. I'm sure he won't be the worst I've had to deal with, and he’s probably too old to do anything much anyway. I glance up to find to find a gift from the gods staring at me. Gorgeous, delicious, eye candy. And the alcohol must be really hitting me now if I say things like eye candy.
Dark hair, dressed in a button down that is designed to look casual but probably costs my first paycheck. Broad shoulders, tall. Total dreamboat. I let myself look, staring at his arms, the fabric of his shirt is clinging to them and his chest in a way that tells me I'm going to like what's underneath it. His face is an odd mixture of angles that come together in just the right way to make him fit for one of those way-too-sexy perfume ads. Damn.
Get it together, Alyssa. You're not going home with someone from the first office party. You're barley hired yet. But my imagination always gets a little wild when I'm tipsy, and speaking of tipsy, I can just imagine him tipping me back and kissing me. Moving from my lips down to my--holy shit he looked at me. I'm too far away to see what color his eyes are, but they're dark, and they are for sure looking right at me. That little mental fantasy takes on a new element as I imagine his approach across the room towards me. That's a pretty thought.
Of course it's interrupted by Jennifer.
"I told you he was incredibly hot."
I look over at her. "That's Charles Saxon?"
"The one and only."
"I thought he was old!" I genuinely thought I had a job working for a man in his mid-fifties. Charles Saxon is in his mid-thirties. If that.
"Nope...just sinfully delicious."
I laugh, "Well, sometimes it's the money that makes you attractive."
"Not this time--Who cares about money with that body?" Jennifer clinks her glass against mine.
"No, not this time. Well, shit." I say. Jennifer laughs. "I warned you."
Charles Saxon. Charles Sexon would be a better name. I mentally pour a bucket of water on myself. "You were right. Tight boundaries it is."
She raises her glass to me, "Well, you can start right now, because he's heading this way." Then she's gone so quickly I've completely lost her in the crowd.
I turn around to find Charles approaching me. "Hello," he says in a voice as rich as chocolate, "My name is--"
"Charles Saxon,” I finish for him. "So I've been told."
He chuckles, "Well, I'm glad we had an opportunity to meet. I'm very much looking forward to working with you."
"I am too, Mr. Saxon. However, given the circumstances, I think it's best that we set some ground rules."
"I'm sorry?"
I take a final sip of my drink and place it on the table. "I'm familiar with men of your type--rich, powerful, and egotistical. I know that you may be used to women falling at your feet, especially women that work for you, but I want you to know that I expect our relationship to be entirely professional. Your reputation proceeds you in that department, so I thought it would be better to get any awkwardness out of the way now."
The look on his face is at once terrifying and gratifying. I think I may have gone too far, but there's no going back now. He clears his throat. "Well then." He says, and the richness of his voice vibrates through me. "Is there anything else I should know?" He raises an eyebrow, and I feel all the blood in my body rush to my face.
Oh god, what did I just do? "No. No I don't think so. If you'll excuse me, Mr. Saxon, I must be going. I'll see you in the morning."
I walk away before he can say anything else to me, and I leave as fast as I can without it looking like I'm running away. Because boundaries are one thing, but that...that was something else all together.
2
Charles
Well wasn't that interesting...
I watch the brunette walk away from me and not look b
ack once. I wrestle down the impulse to laugh. That's one thing I've never had in a secretary--someone who's shut me down before I've even spoken. And I can't blame her too much, if Mark hadn't pointed her out as the new hire I might have ended up doing what she accused me of. The black dress she was wearing clung to her body in ways that made me want to imagine what was underneath it, and I'd always had a thing for brunettes. Especially with hair like that, long enough for me to run my hands through it and get tangled in it.
The fantasy spins out from there too quickly--I imagine catching her outside before she leaves, tangling my hands in that hair and holding her still while I kiss her. After that I'd peel back that dress and find out what's underneath it. I shake my head. Get a grip, Charles. She's pretty, but she's your secretary. You've never crossed that line, don't start now.
I pour myself a scotch. I don't particularly want to be at this party. It's been a long day dealing with the contractors in Santa Fe, and what I really need is peace and sleep. But apparently it helps morale to see the boss at these kind of things Even if I did get shut down by the new girl.
I can't say it wasn't worth it. I could pretend that I didn't watch every last inch of her walk away, but that would be a lie.
That, and the way she turned the tables...yeah, definitely worth it.
I slip one hand into my pocket to adjust myself. It's good for the people to see the boss at the party. Not so good to see the boss have a boner at the party.
"Mr. Saxon, it's so good to see you!" a chirpy voice comes from my right. I groan inwardly. "Hello, Jennifer."
I dare to look, and see that the pink dress she's wearing is cut so low she's practically spilling out of it. "I just wanted to say that I'm so impressed with all the new locations you're willing to take chances on." Her voice is practically a purr. "I actually have a location I'd like to speak with you about, if you're interested."
I plaster on as good a smile as I can, "You know I'm always willing to hear new ideas."
"It's one of the things I really love about you." She pauses for way too long. "...and your company."
Nice recovery, I think.
Jennifer steps closer to me; her breasts are practically brushing my arm now. "Is there a time when I can come by your office with the proposal?"
"You can make an appointment with my new secretary. I think her name was--"
"Alyssa. We met." Her voice goes flat.
I knock back the rest of the scotch, and take a step away. "Yes, Alyssa. I'm sure she'll be up to speed with my calendar in a few days."
"Whatever works for you," she says, the purr back in her tone. The innuendo is practically dripping off her words.
"If you'll excuse me, it's been a long day."
I don't wait for her to answer before I walk away. Some things never change, and I've had to make this escape one too many times to be polite about it anymore.
But Alyssa...that could be interesting. I think about the flushed look on her face when she said she wanted nothing but professionalism. A bold statement like that is as much for her as it is for me. I'm willing to bet she was thinking some decidedly unprofessional thoughts about me.
I catch myself following that fantasy through one more time, and pull myself back. Professionalism. I can do that. If it's professionalism she wants, that's exactly what she'll get.
3
Alyssa
One Week Later
"Alyssa,” Charles calls from his office.
I get up and push open the door. "Yes?"
"I need you to set up a teleconference with Robert Jenkins from the Seattle hotel some time next week. Can you tell him I need to speak with him about some of the expense reports?"
"Sure thing." I make a note at my desk to make the appointment first thing in the morning. It's almost the end of the day and I already know that the Seattle staff is most responsive in the morning. You get to know the problem customers quickly.
I check my e-mail. Nothing new except for a call for help from Jennifer asking for volunteers to organize and decorate the next office party. (It's going to have a theme!) I plan on ignoring that email as long as possible. I've only been here a week so I think it's a little early for me to be sucked into planning the office parties.
Especially since I have a feeling Jennifer will want to know all about my first week working for Charles after my little display at the party, and that's a conversation I don't want to have. Not only am I not sure that she would keep anything I said to herself, but I also don't want to tell her that I feel like a complete and utter idiot. He's done nothing to indicate he even notices that I'm a woman, let alone that he wants to sleep with me. Utterly smooth and polished, not even a moment where I could question his propriety.
So naturally I feel like a prick for calling him out on behavior he clearly doesn't have. He's been nice enough not to mention it though.
All that doesn't change the fact that he's hot. I rarely swear, and the man is fucking hot. If his face wasn't enough (It is.), you can tell under his suits that his body is fantastic. If his body weren't enough (It definitely, definitely is.), his voice is enough to make your mouth water.
In fact, his voice is why I'm so embarrassed and don't want to see Jennifer. He may not act inappropriate at all, but the sound of his voice makes me want him too. His voice plays a regular role in my fantasies now, telling me exactly what he wants to do to me, followed by exactly what he wants me to do.
This has been a fun week for my imagination.
I can hear Charles from the office now, making a call, and I let myself imagine that he's speaking to me. Telling me to come into his office and lock the door. I pull up my web browser and log into the Tantalize website. This collection of people's deepest sexual fantasies is the only thing that's been keeping me sane this week.
I've been reading for years and occasionally I wrote something, but never like this week. Now I have one for every day I've been here. Some days two...writing down the fantasies gets them out of my head. They'd be all I can think about otherwise.
"Lock the door,” he says.
I do.
"Come here."
My body is moving almost before he says it, like it already knows what he's going to command.
He leans back in his chair and observes me. I don't move. I wait for him to tell me what to do, and I'm shaking with anticipation. "Go face the window."
The city unfolds before me, sparkling in the afternoon sunlight. It's vertigo inducing--like I'm going to fall even though I'm safe. I see his ghostly reflection moving closer behind me, and I can feel the heat from his body because he's so close, but he doesn't touch me. Not yet.
"Did you do what I told you to do?"
"Sir?"
I hear the smile in his voice. "I told you that the next time you came into my office, you weren't to be wearing any underwear. Do you remember?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Are you wearing any now?" His breath tickles my ear, and I brace myself against the glass.
"No, Sir."
His hand snakes around my waist and I feel the entirety of him pressed against me from his chest to his erection. "Do not move unless I tell you to. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Sir." I feel dizzy from the sensation of almost falling, and from his closeness. "I understand, Sir."
His hand slides up my body to the buttons on my shirt, undoing them so can access my breasts. His fingers are teasing through the thin material of my bra, circling and caressing before moving to pinch the nipple to the edge of pain before smoothing it away.
His other hand pulls up my skirt, bunching it around my hips, and I gasp as his fingers start to explore. The sound he makes when he confirms that I am most certainly not wearing underwear is not a gasp. Somewhere between a moan and something more primal that pulls at my gut, and my hands come off the window.
His grip tightens and his fingers freeze. "Don't. Move."
"I'm sorry, Sir." I place my hands back on the windows.
He st
rokes through my folds, and it takes everything not to move. I'm already soaking wet and sensitive. He slips a finger inside me, and its my turn to moan. He moves in and out slowly, drawing out the sensations till I'm quivering. "Tell me how it feels."
It's hard to find my breath. "It feels very good, Sir." He brushes his thumb over my clit, and I close my eyes, struggling not to move. "So good."
I feel his laugh rumble against my chest. "But you're not going to come yet, are you?" Nothing escapes me but a moan, and his fingers go still. "Tell me."
"Not until you tell me to, Sir."
He slides another finger inside me, and I feel his lips against my neck. I force my eyes open and take in the feeling of pleasure and vertigo. His hand starts to move faster, and his other arm locks around me pinning me in place. His thumb is circling my clit in time with his fingers, and sparks flare in my body with every touch.
My breath comes in gasps, and I feel that ball of pleasure building deep inside. "Sir,” I say.
"No,” he responds. He knows what I'm asking. Instead he moves faster, fucking me with his fingers until I'm breathless. My whole body is shaking, and I think I'm making some kind of noise, I'm not sure. Nothing exists outside of his fingers touching me, and my body waiting for his command.
His lips press against my ear, and he says it so softly. "Come."
He presses down on my clit and the pleasure bursts outward. I'm gasping and blind, riding his hand, staying still entirely forgotten. Every part of me is consumed with pleasure, a super nova.
His hand slows down, softly caressing, making me jump with every sensitive touch. "Turn around,” he says, and he kisses me when I do, pressing me back against the window. "You are so beautiful when you come. Especially when you come for me. Luckily, our lunch hour is far from over."