*****
I know that Mr. Stevenson’s office is located on the 3rd floor of Caravana Hotel--exactly where on the 3rd floor though, I’m not sure. Gabrielle only mentioned that Mr. Stevenson’s office was kept separate from the accounting wing but did not show me where it was located. As I look for Mr. Stevenson’s office in the open hallways of Caravana, I indulge in its spectacular air.
Looking down from the highest floor, the enchanting décor of the hotel’s lobby is plainly visible. Sleek white couches complement aquamarine walls, the impeccable natural stone flooring reflects hints of green and blue, brought on by the modern glossy finish and lively furniture. The glare of the lights adds a subtle sparkle to every item. In the middle of the two piece lobby, there is a privacy wall from which individual plasma televisions air subtitled news reels.
Elegant lamps on small marble tables complete the lobby’s look, which extends to a public coffee counter and then a restaurant. Soaking in the view, I finally see Mr. Stevenson’s office. It’s the last door next to four other offices, and unlike the rest of the hotel, these doors are wooden. For privacy, I presume. Mr. Stevenson’s door is cracked open, but there’s barely any light emanating from it. Taking a deep breath, I brace myself for best or worse.
I knock on the door. “Come in and don’t turn on the lights and have a seat.” Mr. Stevenson calls from inside. Upon opening the door, I’m paralyzed by the Asian sex deity in a gray, tailored suit. He’s sitting in a white modern office chair, drumming long fingers on his thigh.
His free hand is stroking his chin in a slow and daunted fashion. I feel the familiar wetness soaking my panties, and I swallow hard at what’s happening to me. This is my boss, the owner and jerk I’m experiencing mental orgasms for.
Chapter 2
Mr. Stevenson’s room is roughly the same size as the management office with the addition of two large couches and a conference table on the other side of the room. It is illuminated by the glare of a digital overhead projector and by the casement windows with an extraordinary view to the hotel’s courtyard and outdoor swimming pool.
On the screen, I think there is a sample of a marketing report analysis chart, but I’m too overwhelmed by the abrupt flood of emotions to make a move. Despite the dimness of the room, I can tell that Mr. Stevenson’s eyes are a unique shade of blue I’ve never seen. They remind me of beautiful sapphire gems. Breathe Ali!
“See something you like?” he suddenly asks.
“I’m sorry?” My exclamation is almost a squeak. Damn. Way to make a fool of yourself with the big cheese. I hope that the darkness is able to hide my rouge blush.
“French Macaroons,” he says. What? I knit my eyebrows together. Mr. Stevenson points to a plastic bag on his desk. His expression is amused. “Coconut flavored.”
Macaroons. My boss is the living statue of David, I am a vehement sex addict, and he’s offering me candy of all things in the world. I am desperate to lick my dry lips. His long finger reaches into the bag of rainbow ovals, gracefully swirls between the luscious sweets, chooses the firmest one and approaches it to his sculpted mouth. Mr. Stevenson’s lips part in slow motion like a predatory animal savoring its meal before biting into it.
“They are a souvenir from Paris. Would you like to try one?” His eyes suddenly darken as if he is hiding some unspoken thought. I swallow hard. He just made the habit of eating into an expert animal hunt and a work of art at the same time and expects me to break the spell by talking. It takes me more than a second to recover my voice.
“No, sir, thank you.” I clear my throat. Mr. Stevenson’s gaze becomes impatient. “Sit”, he orders. I obediently comply and pull my chair closer to his desk. It is plush and comfortable. There is a metal name plate on the desk: CARTER STEVENSON, COO of CH&R.
‘Carter.’ I vocalize his name in my head. The tip of my tongue traces the roof of my mouth, igniting the signals from my brain to my sex. It is no less sophisticated than the man staring at me with a restless expression. Damn my thoughts. “We do not have all day, Ms. Barnes. Surely your constant mind travels have to do with improving Caravana?”
I feel my cheeks burn up with embarrassment again. I don’t mean to want to fuck you instead of focusing on my job. It’s not something I can help. “Yes sir.” I whisper, nervously looking through the stapled documents in the folders. Carter repeatedly taps his finger on the desk. The sapphires gems shift to Artic oceans in a heartbeat.
“You are probing my patience. Perhaps all you need is some initiative”, he declares. Carter ducks his head in a large drawer, and I can hear the jerk muttering almost inaudible curse words under his breath. Ass, I want to mutter under mine.
You are honoring your nickname and earning a few more. Lifting his head to meet my gaze, Carter’s new expression is no longer impatient but comical. Unruly black hair brightens his statuesque features, and his lips quirk into a cynical smirk.
My pulse thumps in my ears. Carter Stevenson truly exceeds the definition of handsome. From underneath the desk, he’s pulled out a dainty crystal hourglass. My eyes widen larger than saucers. Carter inverts it and sets it in front of me. Seriously? I raise an eyebrow at him. His face is completely serious. “Begin speaking Ms. Barnes, you have a visual of fifteen minutes dissolving to tell me this morning’s reports.”
Oh I could… Kick him in the groin for being so demanding. And knock myself out in the process for still wanting him on the desk. Looking down at my reports, I begin resuming the most recent information. Carter’s hands expertly glide over his keyboard, taking thorough notes as we speak. His erect posture finally seems satisfied with my behavior. “Tell me what you know about Sol and Leisure Properties”, he asks.
“Their daily occupancy rate was just below 70% last night.”
“That’s it?” he seems surprised.
“Yes. With the annual business conference coming to the state of Florida this year, the majority of executives have been booking with us instead of the competition. I believe we have a good chance to impress the official committee and become their sponsoring hotel.” I hand him a folder of documents with the names and information of the business guests we are expecting over the next month and the potential revenue.
He nods at each one of them with a pleased expression. “Did Gabrielle leave any other documents like this?” Carter flips through the pages. I’m prideful. “No sir, I created those documents this morning.” I answer. Carter sharply raises his head and our eyes momentarily lock.
My insides clench deliciously. Maybe it’s just my frantic pulse, but for a split second, I think I see a beautiful glimpse of timidness in those endless oceans. In the same instant however, the look is gone and nowhere to be found.
Peeking at the hourglass, I try to figure out how much time we have left. There is still a thin stream of white sand, and I’m guessing that means only a few minutes. Carter’s face suddenly shifts from amiable to impassive. Jesus his mood swings are mutant. I don’t know what attitude to expect next. “I’m not easily taken aback, Ms. Barnes”, his tone is icy, mirroring his eyes.
“Your efficiency is impressive but I’ve already to Gabrielle about becoming the sponsoring hotel, and she adamantly refuses. Honestly, I don’t think it’s a good idea either.”
“Why is that?” My tone is calm but firm. I ignore the final grains of sand collecting at the bottom of the hourglass. I do not want to leave until Carter acknowledges me as the intern manager with possible solutions to significant issues. I fought an entire year for this internship to let him off the hook so easily.
“If I may sir, I would like to know why my idea is not good enough. Perhaps I can fix it”, I challenge back. Carter’s eyebrows arch in surprise. His broad chest is slowly rising up and down underneath his white shirt. “Are you always so plain spoken?” His tone is straight. Shit, he’s mad at me. Only with people like you. “No sir.” I lower my head.
Okay, I didn’t intend to sound half as arrogant as him. Quite frankly, arrogance isn�
�t like me at all. Deep inside, Carter knows I’m at least half right and is just having a hard time admitting it. I don’t think he’s used to being told anything other than yes. I can feel his sapphires boring past my skull, directly into the part of my brain that finds him illegally sexy.
I hear him take a breath. “Gabrielle firmly believes that we will be overlooked under other grand hotel names in the area because we’ve only existed for about four years. We have a loyal guest list, but she doesn’t want to risk unnecessary capital now if we can wait at least another year.”
“But you’ve already begun the process of expanding other properties?” I read the side notes I made for myself. He doesn’t answer. Glancing back at Carter, his delectable smirk is back with a vengeance. “Ms. Barnes, if you had done your research correctly,” he hands me a pamphlet, “You’d know that we just finished remodeling our third property in North Miami.”
I browse through it. Crap he’s right. I vow to keep myself more informed from now on. Hope he doesn’t think I’m giving up this easy though. I take the chance to lick my lips and reason a new point. “Mr. Stevenson, with the success of this last renovation, it is irrevocable proof that Caravana Hotel &Resorts are a stable new chain, chosen over its competition before the annual business conference even hits Miami. Our chances of success are high, should you make this decision.”
Carter rubs his chin with his index finger as his sapphires pierce through my brain again. He’s in deep thought, and I’m satisfied. Checking the clock on the wall, I see it is almost time for lunch. Carter rises from his chair. God he is sexy. It’s obvious he uses his millions wisely. His gray tailored suit can’t hide the muscular man underneath it.
“You’ve given me good food for thought, Ms. Barnes. I want you in my office tomorrow morning at the same time. I do not appreciate tardiness. Is that clear?” he offers me his hand. I almost forget how to breathe. Can I… tolerate touching him without losing control? Of course, I can. Don’t make a fool of yourself again.
As our warm palms come into contact, I am confounded by the sudden jolt of embers and electricity sparking in the heart of my stomach. Heat is spreading through my body like wildfire. He must feel it too because of the force of his grip.
There is no way I can escape using the vibrator before bed tonight. I nervously lick my lips, blinking rapidly. A shadow of the timidness I saw earlier is also present. “I’ll see you out” he commands. Without letting go of me, he strides around his desk and walks me to the door. I appreciate it. The last thing I want to do is fall down in a dim room with him being too close.
*****
The rest of my day at Caravana passes by in a blur. I don’t see Carter for the remainder of the afternoon, and I am relieved. I can do without additional sexual tension. It is around 6:30pm when I get home to find Juliette painting her nails. She is wearing a sky blue, chiffon dress that fits her curves. Her brown hair is a shade darker than mine and a tad less wavy.
I laugh to myself. My sister can make anyone look like a movie star even if their final destination is the grocery store. Her face brightens when she sees me. “How do I look?” she rises and twirls around twice. “You look wonderful.” I give her a hug and walk to the kitchen for a glass of water.
“Do I have time to change before Fern gets here?” I ask loudly.
“You look great with what you’re wearing. He called about 10 minutes ago and said he was on his way. Did you meet Mr. Stevenson today?” She asks. I set my glass down harder than I mean to. The way his name echoes in the air is teasing. My insides churn to hear it again. “Carter Stevenson.” I vocalize it and pause, enunciating each syllable.
Leave it to Juliette to predict what a man will look like. “He’s not what I expected” is all I get to say before I’m saved by the doorbell. “You’re not getting away with this! You owe me the gossip over breakfast tomorrow” she laughs. Good. I should be over his good looks by then. Looking down at my sleeveless red blouse, ironed black slacks and non-designer black heels, I figure I should at least change into flats to ease my aching feet.
My bedroom is not too shabby in comparison the one I had in Hartford. Though it is significantly reduced to just enough space for Juliette and me, I like the apartment in general. Photographs of my childhood collage the dandelion walls and I still have a personal bathroom plus a workable closet that Juliette has packed with summer dresses. I smile. I can’t complain about how well we have adjusted.
A former music theory professor who was close to my mother owns the complex and invited us to live here after he learned of Michael’s disappearance. I sigh, toying with the star shaped necklace Michael gave me. Gabrielle’s absence worked out unexpectedly. I now have rest of the week to my advantage and will use it to call the private investigators I decided on.
Hopefully, there will be at least one willing to discuss payment options with me. If my boss does not steal my sanity for too long, that is. I bite my bottom lip and mentally slap myself at the same time. Alyson, this is your boss. I shake my head at the direction of my thoughts. A delicious meal and a tall glass of Pinot Noir are what I need right to relieve today’s occurrences.
Chapter 3
Dinner with Ferdinand and Juliette went great. Instead of settling for plain old burgers, we decided to dine at a local steakhouse with some of the best cuts around. I’m grateful I didn’t have much time to think. When we arrive home, I thank my sister for inviting me. “We should go out to eat more often.” I tease. Juliette’s eyes get big. “You eat for all three of us, and you have nothing to show for it.” She ruefully gazes at Ferdinand.
“We are naturally curvy.” I remind her. Thank mom for that.
“She has a man’s appetite.” Ferdinand hands me the bag of takeout food we got for tomorrow’s lunch and embraces her from behind. He has a smug look on his face. “Don’t worry about the peach, Juliette. From now on we can blame her internship for any sudden changes in her weight.” Ugh! My face scrunches up. Ferdinand’s hit the nail in the right place. I hadn’t thought about Carter during the entire dinner. My lower stomach flutters viciously.
I hate that his logic is almost always shamefully accurate with me. Then again, he is my best friend for a reason: Ferdinand is the only one who knows every single thing about me. He knows the secrets I vowed to hide from Juliette, has seen my ups and downs and witnessed how low I’d fallen with my erratic behavior.
Juliette is cackling at my frozen reaction. “You’re probably right honey. Ali’s boss is a tyrant! A good looking one I hope.” Dammit to hell! Ferdinand and I hold our gaze for a second and I feel the color melt from my face. Crap. He’s figured me out. “Are you feeling okay, Ali? You look pale.” Juliette extends her hand to touch my forehead.
While she is distracted, Ferdinand discreetly shrugs his shoulders in question at me. “I’m fine just exhausted. I’m going to bed.” I wrap my arms around my sister, and mimic a telephone gesture, pleading him not to question me. He hesitates for a second and finally nods. I mouth a thank you and rush to fix this situation once and for all.
In my bedroom, I make haste with my clothes. I kick my flats under the bed and place my blouse and slacks on a chair for future laundry. My hands reach back to find the hook to my lace bra, and I breathe in relief as my breasts bounce gently, content to be free from their confinement. I don’t remove the matching panties—yet. In the last drawer of my dresser, is the luscious vibrator which I also remove from its hiding spot and throw it on the bed. It is calling me.
My breathing is already coming in short gasps. Warm fluid floods my sex, and I feel the stain of a pinky sized spot going through the material of my underwear. The anticipation is apocalyptic. Savage. And as I savor the thrill of masturbating to the sex appeal of Carter Stevenson, a part of me so deep inside punishes this action.
You’re a sex-freak. A compulsive addict who has the minimum self-control to keep herself safe from harm. And those around me, it adds. The ravaged part of my soul has little compassion
for my needs, forcing me to look in the mirror each day and remind myself of what I’ve become: A starving woman with insatiable wants and absolutely nothing else to lose and nothing more to gain.
Licking my baked lips, I shut out the jealous voice in my head. Removing my panties is now a mere formality. Twisting the vibrator on, I lie on my back and gently pressure it against my clitoris. Whoa, new battery! I quickly pull it away. I can’t help but stifle a giggle. I try again. This time, I gradually measure the amount of pressure until my body is comfortable enough, rotating the vibrator in perfect circles.
Mmm, it feels heavenly. I close my eyes and Carter’s haunting sapphires takeover my mind in an instant. In the dim light of his office, there’s something about him that’s different. His muscular chest is buried underneath too many layers of clothes and is rising and falling to the rhythm of my vibrator. Those chiseled thin lips vocalize a sound only my body understands, and it moves against my will. I straddle myself on his lap while my fingers entwine themselves in his unruly jet black hair. He opposes no resistance and simply smiles cynically as he takes his fingers and wets them with my pleasure.
I furiously rub myself with them. Carter! I moan his name into my pillow. Raw electric currents shatter my body almost maniacally. I’m possessed by Carter’s powerful demeanor who doesn’t stop touching me. My body is diving towards the abyss again. Sitting in his leather chair, I groan as his fingers slide inside me, probing how far I can go for him. I’m almost panting for air. Consumed by the unnamable emotion, I disintegrate once again, squeezing my eyelids so tight that the stars in the universe calm me to sweet sleep.
******
Oblivion: Surrender Page 2