by Ivy Carter
Am I going to do this, for real? Am I going to finger myself in the bathroom? He wouldn’t know either way, would he?
Maybe that’s part of this whole thing, though. That I’d know. I’d know if I cheated, even if he didn’t guess it—though he likely would sense it, since he seems to see everything on my face, in my heart. But I don’t want to cheat at the request. I want to do it.
My feet stumble over each other as I cram the note in my purse, zip it closed, and walk on stiff legs toward the women’s bathroom. Fear ricochets through my body, only heightening the throb of my arousal. I have to be super quiet in there. I can’t get caught. It would be far too mortifying for me to keep working here if I were. I’d never live it down.
And I don’t want to displease him. Not when Dane just leaped off the cliff with me, opening himself up in a big, risky way. Somehow, this action shifts the dynamic between us. It’s not just my words anymore, my fantasies, but ours.
An intimate connection being forged.
I manage to get the bathroom door open and slip across the smooth white tile to the stall at the end. Shit, someone’s in there. I could go in another stall, but he told me to use that one. So I turn toward the mirror and pretend to fluff my hair, check my teeth, run the tap to smooth cold water over my burning cheeks.
The stall opens, and Carrie, the head bookkeeper, comes out, dressed head to toe in severe black, hair pulled back in a tight bun.
“Hello, Emme,” she says in her usual throaty tone as she heads to the faucet beside me.
I give her a small nod and keep running water. My stomach is eating itself alive. I just want her to leave the bathroom right now, but she’s taking so damn long to wash her hands then dry them off with about five hundred paper towels.
Finally she exits, leaving me alone in the bathroom. I take a deep draw of air to steady my nerves, go into the last stall, and close and lock the door.
Despite my efforts, my breath is coming out in small pants, so I lean against the cool wall and close my eyes. Draw air into my lungs slowly, exhale slowly. If I’m going to do this, I need to get myself in the right zone.
Dane’s face pops in front of my mind. Instantly my body erupts in tingles, and my muscles loosen. I rub my fingers over one hardened nipple, then the other one. I pretend it’s his hands stroking me, and my pelvis gives an almost painful throb in response to the idea.
My breathing quickens. I hike my slim black skirt up to my hips, push my damp panties to the side, and slip a finger over my clit, which is already wet from my juices. He wants to know I fingered myself. I squeeze my breast with the other hand and stroke my nub harder.
God, I want him so badly right now. I wish he’d come in here and rip my clothes off. I want his mouth on me, licking me, making my lower lips swell even more. I feel the orgasm starting to build.
I open the top buttons on my shirt and shove it aside, plus one cup of my bra, so my left breast is bared. I pinch the nipple hard, which sends a zing of pleasure-pain through straight to my clit.
Oh, God. A small gasp flies out of my mouth before I can stop it. My head drops back against the wall as my arousal builds. My fingers fly up and down my slit, faster, faster…
The bathroom door opens, and I hear footsteps come in, move toward the sink. I bite my lower lip and keep masturbating. I can’t stop right now, not for anything in the world. I need to finish this, for Dane.
My hand is covered with my come, and my exposed thighs are shaking. I’m so close, so close…
The water faucet turns on, and I hear sounds. I take the hand from my breast and slap it across my mouth, muffling the moans that threaten to spill.
My brain draws up a visual of Dane shoving the door open, dropping to his knees in front of me, and sucking hard on my clit. His other hand shoving into my pussy and him commanding me to come all over his tongue. And that does it.
I fly over the edge, my whole body jerking as I explode into a million pieces. My head is dizzy from me unknowingly holding my breath for so long. In the background, I vaguely hear the faucet turn off and the door open and close again.
When I’m alone once more, I remove my hand from my mouth and the other from my panties. I sag against the wall, suddenly boneless, unable to move or barely even think. Holy crap, that was intense. I can’t believe I did that.
I can’t believe I did that with someone on the other side of the stall door.
But most notably, I can’t believe how much the whole thing turned me on.
And Dane had to know it would, because of reading my journal, which was why he told me to do it in the first place. Part of me is unnerved that he’s learned how to read me so easily, so fast, has figured out my vulnerabilities and turn-ons. And in just a few minutes, I’m going to walk into the conference room, my fingers still saturated with the evidence of my orgasm.
He’ll know what I did, and I’ll know too. I’m not sure what to do or how to act, especially since I don’t want anyone else to pick up on it. I have to keep my cool, play a role. Dane would expect that of me. And I want to live up to his expectations.
Because now I’ve had a taste of the intensity inside him, the emotions below the surface, and I’m craving more.
Dane
When I enter the meeting room, everyone is in there except for Emme. My whole body is one large muscle of tension. I haven’t seen her since I left that note on her desk. Did she do it? Or did she get embarrassed and back out of it?
I knew it would push her a bit out of her comfort zone, but I also knew she could handle it. Wanted it, even. And for the last half hour, I haven’t been able to focus on jack shit, wondering if she was in the bathroom touching herself.
It was so hard not to barge in there and demand to watch. It took minutes of thinking about invoicing to get my dick soft enough to move out from behind my desk. I don’t need a raging hard-on as I stroll through the office.
Right at three, Emme slips into the conference room, her head ducked down as she makes her way to the far end of the table, a slight flush on her high cheekbones, ever-present tablet in her hand. She offers the room a tight smile, her eyes grazing right past me. “Sorry I’m late.”
My stomach sinks in disappointment, and I instantly shake that emotion off. It’s clear from her body language that she’s mortified—the awkward vibes are practically rolling off her. But is it because she did what I asked, or because she didn’t?
I have to admit, I was hoping to see her walk in here looking satisfied, with me knowing the exact reason why. Maybe I’d even be able to detect a hint of that lingering arousal as she passed by me. At the thought, my poor cock starts stirring again, and I turn my gaze to Carl for a moment to quickly dampen that reaction.
I shouldn’t have written that note. Honestly, I can’t believe I took that kind of gamble; I surprised myself when I found myself typing the words out and printing them on my personal copier. I opened myself up to a world of trouble. No, I didn’t sign it, but there’s still a possibility it could come back and bite me in the ass. I worked too fucking hard to get where I am, have put in far too many hours and blood and sweat and tears.
Not only am I risking my reputation, but I’m putting my own personal vows aside by engaging with a subordinate in this way. Something I told myself a million times, I’d never do.
Emme turns on the tablet and keeps her attention focused on it, fingers flying across the surface of a new document opened for her to take notes. I purposely don’t look at her, fighting back the roiling emotions in my chest.
“Okay,” Carl says as he shuffles through his packet of paper. His cheeks are burning red—probably from a combination of excitement and nervousness. “So. Thanks for coming, everyone. I didn’t get a chance to make copies of my documents. I was going to ask Emme before the meeting, but she wasn’t at her desk.”
My brow twitches in reaction to his words.
The delicate flush on Emme’s face crawls down her neck. But to her credit, she lifts her chin
and says in a firm voice, “I had an important errand I had to do. For future reference, if you need me to make copies of something, I’ll require more than three minutes advance notice.”
I manage not to laugh approvingly at her deft handling of Carl’s arrogant condescension. But more than wanting to chuckle at her quick-witted response, I am now well aware that she did the task I assigned her.
There’s no way I can move right now, not even if the building collapses around me. The blood is colliding through my veins as her enigmatic eyes drift toward my direction. All I can think is, She did it. Everything I asked for—I can see it so clearly all over her face in this brief moment.
And I want to fuck her so hard right now it isn’t funny. I want to taste that sopping wet pussy and coat my face with her come.
Suddenly I’m desperate for this damn meeting to be over.
Carl drones on about the market research he’s done for large firms in the area, but I can’t focus. I should have had her sit beside me so I could smell her, maybe even reach down and stroke one of her curvy thighs. But that would have given it all away.
I can’t treat her any differently than I have before. That’s part of the game, one she’s playing with more confidence than I gave her credit for. Admiration wells in me, along with another surge of arousal.
Emme continues to surprise me.
I drag my attention back to Carl and make myself listen to him. His ideas aren’t innovative or groundbreaking, and he’s a bit of an arrogant prick, but at least he’s trying to be more proactive. I can give him credit for that.
When he finishes explaining how he’s going to reach out to the potential clients and what his strategy will be on how to convince them to leave their current designers, I give a curt nod. “Okay, first thing, you have too many on the list. I want you to focus on no more than three of these potential clients. Which ones do you feel have the best potential for us? The rest you can distribute to other members of the team for pursuit.”
A couple of people stir in excitement at the prospect.
A deep line slashes Carl’s brow. “Dane, I can talk to all of them. I don’t see why I need to limit myself here.”
I stare at him without saying a word.
He clears his throat and breaks eye contact, turning his gaze back to the papers he’s rustling on the table. No one else breaks the stretch of silence. They all know Carl needs to be reined back into place and they give the space for that to happen.
Carl’s lips pucker for a moment before he finally speaks. “Well. Okay. I guess McIntosh and Jones, Empire Resale…and… Lincoln Greeting Cards.” His tone is a bit surly; he hates doing things by my standards. Too fucking bad. Carl’s too scatterbrained to be given that much responsibility.
My gaze draws back to Emme, unbidden. She stops typing notes then looks up at me, a tiny smile on her face.
She licks her lips, that delicate tongue sliding across her plump, red lips as she turns attention back her iPad. I glance down at her fingers as they move across the device. Think about what she’s done to herself, just moments ago, thinking of me the entire time.
Knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that if I wanted to, I could be fucking her mouth right now, and she’d gladly swallow everything.
A growl deep in my chest is aching to be released. Fuck me, I want to bend her over the table and penetrate that wet pussy so badly. I can see her nipples poking her thin shirt. She’s aroused right now and she knows that I know it.
There’s no fucking way I can quit this now, not when I have the power to make her blush, to turn her on, to awaken the sexuality buried deep down inside.
The corner of my mouth crooks, and I give her an almost imperceptible nod, letting her know I’m aware she did her task. “I think that’s about all,” I say to the employees around the table. “Go forth and get new business. We’re done here.”
Emme slides in behind a few people and filters out, her hips swaying gently with her stride. Carl takes his time gathering his shit.
I can tell he wants to say more to me, perhaps to protest again the fact that I won’t let him chase all those clients. So to appease him and get him the fuck out of here, I add, “For what it’s worth, I think you made savvy choices. They’ll be a good fit for you, and perhaps even provide additional opportunities to search out more big clients. Word of mouth is important in our business.”
That does it. A self-satisfied smirk crops up on his face, and he gives me a nod. “Yeah, my research indicated they’d be my top-tier choices, anyway. The rest are the smaller prospects, so they shouldn’t be too scary for the others to pursue.” There’s a bit of swagger in his step as he leaves.
I let the room clear out completely and stay for just a moment longer to compose myself. We’re at work, and I can’t appear to be out of control, not when others can see me. I’m the boss, the one they all look up to. I steady myself until my arousal isn’t so apparent then exit the room.
When I make it to Emme’s desk, I stop and stare down at her. I make sure my voice is cool and professional as I say, “Emme, in fifteen minutes I need to see you in my office. Please bring our client contact list with you so we can make some calls. I’ll need your assistance in reaching out to them.”
She swallows and draws a shaky breath, her hand rising to tuck her hair behind her ears. That fucking sexy blush creeps across her cheeks again, and her pupils seem to dilate right in front of me. Oh, she’s so hot and ready for me in this moment, she’d do anything I asked. A heady surge flows through me at the realization, and intense need races down my spine.
“Yes, sir,” she whispers in a breathy tone.
She seems to quite enjoy being told what to do. I file that nugget of information away for future reference.
“Make that twenty minutes.” I want to prolong the tension building in her for a few minutes longer, even if it might kill me. But I can’t resist this thing happening between us, this strange and unexpected connection.
I turn and go to my office, close the door behind me, and grab my water bottle. Drink nearly half the water down in an effort to cool myself a hair and maintain control over my arousal.
In the meantime I reply to a few emails.
My phone rings. I don’t recognize the caller ID. “Rossi Design,” I say.
“Dane,” a familiar, deep voice says. “It’s me. Eric.”
Fuck. Talk about an unexpected, unpleasant surprise. I haven’t spoken to my brother Eric in a long time, and it’s intentional.
“What do you want? I’m busy,” I say, my voice even and firm.
There’s a pause. “Um. Well, Mom wanted me to call you and invite you to dinner this weekend.”
“Not interested.” I already know Marianne will be there. His cluelessness continues to astound me.
My brother sighs. “Look, it was really hard to reach out and call you, but we need to talk. About what happened with me and Marianne. I know you’re still really upset with us—”
“I’ve put it behind me.” The pat answer flies right off my lips.
“Right.” Eric snorts, a hint of frustration threaded in the sound. “It totally seems like it, Dane. You know, I haven’t spoken to you in years now, and…well, we think it’s past time to resolve our issues once and for all. This is hurting the family, you know, every time you avoid a family event where we’re going to be. Mom is torn up, and sometimes Marianne can’t sleep at night because you’re still punishing us over the past.”
I don’t want to argue with him. I don’t want to talk to him. I don’t want to think about him fucking my ex-wife. Even if their relationship only became physical after we split, their emotional entanglement became readily apparent in retrospect.
Looking back, it was as if my brother was angling to take something from me from the very beginning.
It’s true our marriage didn’t fall apart because of Eric—the tension had started between Marianne and I from almost day one. But knowing that Eric lusted after her, knowing th
at he must have used those family gatherings and vacations we all took together as chances to pursue my wife—makes me sick to my stomach.
I can’t do this. “I gotta go,” I say, about to hang up.
“Wait, wait.” He huffs a frustrated sigh. “Shit. Just…think about it, okay? Mom misses you. She says you haven’t been returning her calls lately. I offered to reach out to you because I don’t want there to keep being bad blood between us. I’m extending the olive branch, for the good of the family.”
My brother, the selfless martyr. What a laugh. “I’m not the cause of the bad blood here.” I feel myself becoming numb, growing colder inch by inch. This isn’t what I want to do at work. I hate that I’ve let Eric drag me into a conversation I don’t want to have. I’ve put his betrayal behind me and focused on moving forward with my life the best way I know how. But the past keeps trying to drag me under. “I’ll call Mom.” That’s the only concession I’m going to make to him. He isn’t going to force me or guilt me into doing anything.
He sighs again, but this time it’s world-weary. “Okay. Thank you. I’ll let you go. I know you’re probably busy.”
“Bye.” I hang up before he can say anything else.
I’m being stubborn, I know. But I simply can’t let go of what happened and forgive my brother. And I divorced Marianne so I could get away from her, not continue to see the woman existing happily with my brother, still in family pictures, still part of my world.
If I could get past the feeling that Eric betrayed my trust, I would. But the truth is that I know, deep in my soul, that he wanted her from the very beginning. And so my personal loss quickly became his gain.
I simply can’t let that go.
But I know my absence is making my mom grieve. She longs for her family to be united again, no matter the cost to my pride or feelings. I get it. She needs the stability with a desperation I can’t quite understand, given what a wretched husband my father is. Doesn’t mean I have to accept it or bend to it.
I rest my elbows on the desk and drop my head in my hands. This is so fucked up. I don’t want to think about it anymore.