by Gray, A L
"And what exactly is that?" I ask brave, challenging him.
"Princess, if I told you, I would have to marry you, or kill you."
I stare at him wide-eyed, completely flabbergasted. I'm not sure what effects me more - me and marry, or me and murder - in the same sentence.
"I'm a big girl, I think I can handle the likes of you." I joke, desperately trying to hide my affronted expression.
"Yes, you are." He whispers to himself. He scratches his stubbly chin in deep thought - what's he thinking?
"Don't be scared Anile." He says as he looks down at me, shooting me an unorthodox glare.
"Why would I be scared?"
He animalistically clears my desk. I watch as all my papers effortlessly float like feathers, making their way to the floor - damn him! It took me ages to arrange them! He clears my desk further. Next are my pens, individually hitting the floor with quiet clinks, and my colour coded sticky notes follow. Everything seems as though it's happening in slow motion, or not really happening at all! Surely I have fallen asleep in my office and I'm dreaming this?
Before I register another thing, I'm firmly bent over - my left cheek is kissing the desk! He has my hair in a tight grip, forcibly holding me in place. The pain is only just bearable. I feel strands of my hair pinching at my skull.
Holy fucking shit!
He groans, "hmmm."
I feel his hand at the back of my neck above my collar. His fingers feel electric on my naked skin. They send arousing vibes to course throughout my body, forcing me to feel a strange pleasure deep within me. He slowly glides his way down the centre of my back. Every inch he covers effects me differently - it's like I have carnal pressure points all the way down my spine. He stops at my backside. He gently strokes around in circles, causing an extraordinary tingling sensation, down there. The muscles that tighten inside me feel alien. He moves to the other side and repeats the same movement, around and around, caressing every inch of my derrière. He unexpectedly squeezes me and his nails dig deep into my flesh through my trousers. Oh shit! That feels... sort of good! I clench my inner muscles tighter than necessary as a euphoric feeling instantly hits my groin! Fuck! What is that?
He groans loud, making my ear drums vibrate.
"Ahhh."
The pinching sensation mixed with his affected tone makes me feel rouse, stimulated. I squeeze my tummy muscles again at the sudden glorious rush that hits my clitoris - oh my! What's happening to me?
His hand is suddenly gone from my backside, allowing me to relax. I acceptingly lay flat against my cool wooden desk, limp and almost lifeless. His breathing unexpectedly turns harsh. His fiery energy hits me like a thunder bolt, causing me to stiffen my entire body. Oh no! Is he going to spank me?
"Perfect, now, lay your palms flat on the desk above your head. I'm going to unzip your trousers and pull them down, then, I will peel your panties off, slowly. Once you are naked from the waist down, I want you to spread your legs for me, Anile."
Okay, now I know I'm not dreaming!
I ignore his request, leaving my arms limply hanging down by my sides, wondering what he will do if I just hide under his shadow.
"Anile, would you like me to fuck you, or would you like a ride home?"
My heart is pounding so viciously, almost breaking free from my rib cage at my sudden delirium! Hopefully I can make it home before I die of a heart attack!
Do I want a lift or do I want to have sex with him? Oh, I don't know! Maybe I should go home and think this over, he will still be here tomorrow.
“Um, a, eh, lift, shall, will be great, tha, thank you Sir - if it's, um, okay?”
"Of course it is - good girl." He says soft.
He unexpectedly leans his crotch into me, pressing himself against my backside. Oh my God, he has an erection! It's bone hard and almost ripping its way into my trousers!
"Ahhh," he moans again. His voice is husky deep. His tone is shattering.
"Oh Anile, I'm desperate to feel your slick arousal completely covering my dick. Please let me fuck you." He begs.
"Mr. Darks, I," I whisper in a panic, not knowing what to say.
This is so erotic. I cannot believe he's this aroused by me. I haven't even touched him! Suddenly, he pulls a little too hard on my hair, forcing me to stand on jelly legs. Whoa, I was not expecting that! He strangely starts twirling me like a ballerina, using my hair and his hand to create the motions - round and around, and around, until he wants me to stop. He grabs my left arm, forcing me to a halt. Once I'm frozen in place - facing him and feeling slightly dizzy - he drops my hair free. I feel every strand hit my back as I become extra aware. Fucking hell, I'm so aroused! I squeeze my legs together. I notice I feel wet, down there! That's what he wants covering his dick! Oh my God!
He quickly distracts me - stopping me from squeezing my legs together. He trails his thumb down my cheek, almost scratching my face with his sharp nail, but I don't care - the sensation that's running throughout my body is enough to shield his rough touch. He moves down towards my lips, slowly. He grabs my bottom lip and pulls down. His lingering trail on my face burns. It ignites me inside.
He suddenly drops his hand down to his side with too much force.
"Get home safely Miss Gooden."
Whoa, what? Is he kidding me? Because I cannot tell. He smiles, knowing what he has done to me. I think I want him, now! But I'm too chicken shit to beg him to take me over the desk. I stare up at him, hoping he can read my mind, please! His glazed stare burns into me. His eyes are such a dark shade of blue, they are almost black - hmmm, he looks delectable!
"Until tomorrow Miss Gooden." He says, smiling like the cat who almost got the cream.
I tilt my head to the side, taking mental inventory - he is one beautiful man.
"Until tomorrow, Mr. Darks." I gasp as I release the breath I was unknowingly holding.
He gestures me with a salute sign and turns on his heel. He reaches the door and stops to take one last look. He smiles at me, so dirty while he bites his bottom lip. I see a glimmer of triumphant in his expression. He licks his lower lip, showing more of his tongue than necessary. He causes an affliction to immediately affect my nervous system. Fuck he's got to stop that!
He turns opening the door, and before I know it, he's gone.
Once he's out of sight, I stand smiling to myself, touching my lips, stroking my hair that he touched. What the hell just happened?
I quickly pack up all my paperwork that completely dresses the floor - not that it bothers me - I will file papers all damn day if I can have an evening like that again! Once everything is back in place, I leave my office. I daydream while I walk through Darks Lawyers until I reach the outside. The fresh coolness of London hits me like a ton of bricks. Oh I need this, it helps bring my temperature down, a little.
I immediately spot a beautiful black Bentley parked at the curb with an impeccably dressed driver. The driver immediately gets out of the car.
"Miss Gooden?" He says.
"Yes, Sir."
"I am Jonathan - I will be driving you home Miss."
Impeccably dressed and delightfully polite. I smile fondly.
"Thank you Sir."
He opens the back passenger door for me and half bows as he motions for me to enter. I slide in instantly becoming head drunk as Mr. Darks' essence hits me, almost stopping my breathing - fuck this man smells good, almost good enough to eat! The car is gorgeous. It has polished cream leather seats with a pinstripe design; small televisions perfectly fitted into the head-rests and cheery tree mahogany wooden door panels - I could get used to this car!
"Ready Miss?"
"Um, yes Sir, do you know my address?"
"I do."
Of course you do, or should I say - of course Mr. Darks does, he presumably knows everything!
Chapter Eight
I SLUGGISHLY EMERGE into Darks Lawyers tired and lethargic, and I wonder how I made it out of bed as I almost float into the lift. I hardly slept last
night, I couldn't stop thinking about Mr. Darks bending me over my desk - I mean, who would be able to sleep after that? Him telling me he wanted to fuck me gave me amnesia! I think I managed all of three hours sleep, and that came after endless amounts of tossing and turning. I was also thinking of my mother and how long I will have to wait for another call from her - damn me and my time management! She will take months to write and inform me when she will be calling again, I know it!
"I must not think of her, I must not think of her!" I admonish myself, remembering my promise to her - to forget her until the time comes when we will be together again.
The lift pings open on the top floor and I stare stupefied, all my hindrance thoughts suddenly vanish. I'm now officially awake!
There are around ten workmen here, all in their electric lime jackets. They look like they are all covered in a fine sheet of white dust. They have removed the Masonic floor and are replacing it with a new one that is not a chess board affect, it's white, pure white - no hidden secrets, no statement to be told, just a gorgeous shiny white granite floor that stretches the entire length of the lobby. It makes the hall seem so much bigger. This is insane! As I saunter through the lobby, everyone stares at me, whispering between themselves with confused expressions on their faces - why are they staring at me? I wonder if I have fuzzy hair? I quickly run my fingers over my hair but stupidly realize I have it tied back in a tight bun atop of my head - no, it cannot be my hair. I stop looking at the floor and the gawping workmen as I try to gather myself. When I do, I'm hit with another bolt of shock as I register the Olympian God paintings. Holy fucking shit! Mr. Darks has moved all the Greek Goddess paintings into the lobby, and not only that, he has paired all the paintings in impeccable order! The Gods are married to their wives. The daughters and sons follow to create the power hierarchies - Zeus and Hera strike me down first. Strangely, the only painting that's specifically placed near an object or a person is Hera. She's hung above Jezebel? That's bizarre. While I eye Jezebel, I notice for the first time ever that she's dressed in a fine shiny red suit with her long dark hair generously hanging down her back. She looks gorgeous, but different - she's too young to be pairing herself with such an adult outfit. As I walk further into the lobby - towards Mr. Darks office knowing I need to speak with him about all this - I notice other Gods have been added. I stare at Apate wondering why in the bloody hell do all the Goddesses have blonde hair? Literally every single one!
I reach Mr. Darks office and notice the walls next to his door are naked, apart from a small painting above the door. Eros - that's more bizarre than Hera being hung above Jezebel - and why the hell is the entire lobby flooded with the Gods, apart from around his door? There is also the number eight above his door written in Roman numerical, painted in black. Jesus I'm too tired for all this.
I try to open his door but it's locked - damn him, where is he? I quickly march back towards Jezebel - she's on the phone but I don't care that she's speaking to someone, I interrupt her.
“What the hell is going on?”
She covers the phone speaker with her hand.
“I have absolutely no idea. Last night Mr. Darks decided to change the appearance of Darks Lawyers and called in the workmen within half hour of you leaving.” She exaggerates. I sense bitching from her.
I stare dumbfounded, ignoring her attitude. I said I hated the floor, and I mentioned the paintings before. I lean against the reception desk for support, not knowing what to say.
“Where is Mr. Darks, Jezebel?”
“He is out on business Miss Gooden, he will be back later for a meeting.”
Damn him, always so quick to make a grand gesture, never around to explain his motives - like most men!
“Is my office okay to work in?”
“Yes it is.”
I leave Jezebel and her stinking attitude. I slowly walk to my office. While walking back through the lobby, I cannot help but take another analytical glimpse of everything. I also cannot believe how the simple change of a floor can make a vast area feel so different. Everything up here always felt light and airy but cold and calculated. Now it feels warmer, more tranquil - the paintings add so much colour with the fierce expressions of the Gods and the watery pallets. Although I think it looks better, I have this nagging feeling that the new appearance is trying to tell me more than meets the eye initially - and I find it flipping annoying!
I suddenly stop outside of my door. I take note that the sparse appearance is exactly the same as Mr. Darks. The walls for around four foot each side are naked, apart from a small painting above my door, Astraea - holy shit! And the number eleven is under the painting, also written in Roman numerical, in exactly the same position as Mr. Darks' number eight.
"What the hell is going on?" I say out loud.
"Sorry Love, you alright?" A man with a smoky croaking voice asks.
I turn to look at him. His warm deep green eyes meet me first, telling a sad story with his rheumy gaze that instantly catches me off guard. He must be around fifty - maybe fifty-five - too old to be working such a hard job. The retiring age should be lowered! Damn the government and their scheming projects to make money off decent normal people!
I smile benevolent at him, "yes, sorry. Have you been offered tea or coffee?"
"No Love, but it's okay, I'm good."
"Would you like a drink?"
"No, I don't wanner put you out Love." He says as he gets to his feet. He holds his back as though he's struggling to stand tall. His face screws up with an overpowering expression - he's in a lot of pain, I can tell.
"Please, let me get you all some drinks," I say firm, "Jezebel?" I call over to her.
"Yes Miss Gooden."
"Could you please get some coffee and tea for the workmen."
"Um, why?"
"Why do we need tea and coffee? Maybe for a break and to quench our thirst!" I snap.
She narrows her eyes at me for a few seconds, trying to test me. I return her gesture with my hands pressed firmly on my hips. She gives up and storms off towards the lift - her hair thrashes in rhythm with her stomping strides - she almost looks childlike. Touché!
I smile at the kind workman and turn on my heel. When I open my office door, I instantly notice the stunning white granite floor is followed through, accept my floor has gold flecks that reflect the sunlight so perfectly, bouncing around my office. I wonder if he put different flooring in here to show me that he sees that I'm different? A small gesture with such an impact. I stand smiling like an idiot as I also register the huge white curtains, commanding the ceiling to floor window, dressed in dropped swags and gold ties holding them back in a grand frame. The window looks so much more picturesque, and the curtains look so heavy - they must have cost a fortune. This is crazy, does he really do this for women?
A thought springs to mind, Google that Bastard!
I almost run to my computer. When it turns on, I feel like I'm stuck in the before waiting for it to load up.
"Hurry up God damn you!"
Finally, the Mac fires up and I immediately click on Google chrome. Hmmm, what should I look up? My mind is its usual self when it comes to Mr. Darks- it has gone blank! I type in - Elijah Darks/Darks Lawyers. Everything anyone would presume to need to know comes up.
Loving husband.
Loving son.
Kind man.
Charity donator.
Bla, bla, bla…
Nothing juicy comes up and this is what I want to read, the juicy stuff - not the same old shit that everyone famous and rich are portrayed as. This is so frustrating! I decide to shut off the internet and get to work; reading what I already know is a bore and my client will arrive before I know it. I need to be on the ball.
I finish up reading the rest of the case bundle over the next few hours and before I know it, one-thirty arrives. I'm a little late; the overload of information is alarming. Mr. Darks has out-done himself. The way he has gathered his work is impeccable. I grab my notepad, all the nece
ssary paperwork, and rush to the reception.
The lobby is annoyingly filthy - it's completely covered in dust, as am I! My trousers look grey because of the white sandy smut. Why couldn't he have waited until the weekend? I have to dodge the workmen that are scattered all over the floor. I also have to be careful not to trip over their tools - that would be my next less graceful entrance, as appose to calling Mr. Darks a damn Bastard!
"Is Mr. Allen here yet Jezebel?"
"Yes, he is in Mr. Darks office."
"What, why?"
"Do I look like a mind reader?"
Snarky cow! I turn away from her - almost boiling over. I start walking towards Mr. Darks office, searching my mind, hoping for a clue as to what's going on. Maybe he told me something cryptic? Ugh, sometimes I find him so annoying! I cannot fathom what's happening.
I aim to knock on his office door, but think, fuck it - at least this time I know he's with someone, so I cannot be caught off guard.
I stroll in like this is my office - not his - confident and poised, but once I see he still has the Masonic flooring, I screw my face up wondering why he hasn't changed it in here? It also looks kind of sparse. The walls are empty. All you can see are sharp nails poking out every few feet. The desk now finally makes an impact with its beautifully crafted legs that almost look like real feet. It's still dangerously clear like before though - does he actually do any work? And if he does, where the bloody hell is all his paperwork? He doesn't have one filing cabinet in his office.
I smile and aim to greet Mr. Darks and Mr. Allen, but I'm unexpectedly ambushed!
“Is this her? Please tell me it isn’t - she looks younger than my youngest daughter!” The client - who I'm assuming is Mr. Allen - snaps. Just because you are pale, old and lacking a full head of hair, it doesn't give you the right to ridicule my youthful appearance! Oh I would love to tell him that!
I stand embarrassed in the door way with heated cheeks. Mr. Darks smiles perversely at me. Oh no! He cannot look at me like that! I feel like he's purposely undressing me with his unorthodox eyes. Memories of him forcibly holding me flush against my desk pool unhealthily around my mind - his long fingers working their way down my back, his hard penis pressing against me - fuck! I cannot think like this, not now!