by Julia Kent
This is how I always thought, but then why was I now stepping around his office, feather duster in hand and actively dusting while wearing only my pantyhose which I’d pulled back up after he’d finger fucked me to an orgasm? Wearing almost nothing felt nice, though, oddly. Freeing. The cool air became a little less cool as I grew accustomed to it, and I relished in the sexiness of my body.
This man, Asher Landseer, the married CEO of a billion dollar corporation, had wanted me. While I cleaned his office, I tried to catch his attention, bending over this way and that, arching my back and pressing out my breasts in hopes he would look at me. But it didn’t work?
Some doubt slipped into my mind. He hadn’t actually said he wanted me. No lustful words escaped his lips as he coaxed me to orgasm. Nothing of the sort, actually. In fact, now that I thought about it, he said he was only doing it to remove a distraction. But… no… that couldn’t be it, could it? Except, it must be.
The idea sunk in. I wasn’t some absolutely desirable woman. I couldn’t tempt a billionaire away from his wife. This was business, plain and simple. I’d destroyed his book and he meant to punish me for it, and that was it. Well, he’d done a good job of that. I felt embarrassed for even thinking I could have garnered his attention.
I moved through his office, dusting without trying to be sexy, steaming in my own thoughts, annoyed. He thought he was all that? Oh, I could do better. Maybe I’d push his bookcase a little, send the whole thing crashing to the ground, see how he liked that. What would he do then? If one destroyed book equaled one smoldering climax, what would a whole bookcase involve? I shuddered thinking about it.
The phone rang. I glanced over towards it, catching Asher looking at me out of the corner of his eye. Or, no, he wouldn’t even be doing that. If he hadn’t glanced at me before when I was trying to act seductive, he wouldn’t now. I was imagining things.
He reached for his phone and answered it. “Hello?”
I absently listened to his side of the conversation while dusting, planning on finishing this and getting out of here.
“Yes? No,” he said. “Are you sure? Is that why…?”
He sounded confused, lost. I wanted… dammit! Despite my frustration with him, I wanted to go over to him and see if he was alright. Look at him, smile, become lost staring into his brilliant blue eyes, reaching a hand up to touch the hint of stubble growing on his cheek.
“Yes,” he said to the person on the other end of the phone. “Yes, I’ll talk with her. We’ve discussed this before. Thank you.”
He hung up the phone and went to sit on his chaise. Closing his eyes, he rubbed his temples with his fingers and frowned.
I don’t know why, and I shouldn’t have done it, but I went over to him and put my hands on his shoulders. Instantly, his eyes snapped open and he looked up at me.
“I need a massage,” he said.
“I can if you’d like?” I offered, my voice meek. I wanted to impress him, but I didn’t know why. He was a jerk, and not worthy of my time. A man with money? Ha! Who cared. I had… knowledge of Charles Dickens.
“That wasn’t a question,” he stated firmly. “It was an order.”
I tensed up, wanted to grind my fingers into his shoulders and squeeze as hard as I could, but I didn’t. Instead, I gave him a light massage, erring on the side of softness, until he ordered me to do it harder. Oh, really? I intended to annoy him, to make him angry, but when I dug my fingers into his shoulder muscles, he only let out a content sigh and relaxed into the chaise.
Honestly? What an asshole.
“My wife is infertile,” he said, nonchalantly.
“I’m sorry to hear that?” I replied. What do you say to someone when they tell you that? And, as unlikely as it was, I would have rather heard him say he was divorcing her. Was that a mean thought to think? Yes, but, then maybe…
“We’ve talked about this possibility. Adoption is one choice. It’s admirable and respectable, but I’d rather not, and she doesn’t want to, either. I’d like the child to be at least a part of me, genetically.”
Something, I heard some strange inflection in his voice that made me think about what he’d just said. “What about her?” I asked.
He laughed. “She’s not interested in children at all. I imagine this will be a boon to her, not being able to conceive naturally. She’s fine with the idea of it, but the process bothers her. If she could, she’d rather have someone else carry the child to term so she didn’t have to.”
“It’s possible,” I said, shrugging. My massage grew lighter as our conversation unfolded and my fingers eased away the kinks in his shoulder. “There’s egg donations, and you could have one fertilized with… with your…” I couldn’t bring myself to say “his seed” despite the fact I was currently standing behind him without any clothes on. It felt too… dirty? I don’t know.
“True,” he said, scrunching up his brow, contemplating the idea. After a few seconds, he said, “I don’t know your name. You’re the temp they hired for the day, correct?”
“Yes.” I gulped. The way he said it, the way the words just came out, indifferent, made the whole situation worse. He didn’t even know my name and yet he’d tossed me on his table like it was nothing? Done all of that to me, and… No, I shouldn’t think about that. “Jessika Fevrier.”
“Fevrier?” he asked.
“Yes, it’s French.” I spelled it out for him, since this was a common confusion and I’d learned to do it unthinking. “Pronounced Fev-ree-ay.” The fact that the cleaning manager had screwed it up earlier still frustrated me.
“Yes,” he said. “French for February.”
I frowned, but he didn’t notice. It did mean that, but he didn’t have to make it sound so ordinary and uninteresting.
“A pleasure meeting you, Jessika.” He reached over his head and held out his hand for me to shake. Awkwardly, I took his hand in mine and shook it lightly. That seemed to satisfy him.
Moving from the chaise, standing, he looked me in the eyes. I hadn’t noticed before, our initial meeting not really being a great comparison for heights, but he was a good deal taller than me. Not towering over me like a giant, but when he stood next to me and looked down at me I felt smaller. Smaller but… safe? Protected? Odd, since he’d been so angry before, but he had a certain guardian type of air about him, too.
He moved closer, put his hands around my waist, and brought his face almost even with mine. I wasn’t sure what I should do, so I lifted one arm up and put it around his neck while the other just hung there, loosely. My God, this was confusing. Were we going to… was he going to? He looked like he might kiss me. The smell of his cologne intoxicated me; jasmine with a hint of vanilla and a sensual, leathery musk undertone. My mouth opened slightly, preparing for his lips to touch mine.
“Jessika,” he said. “I’m sorry about before. I’ll buy you a new shirt, you don’t have to worry about that.”
“No,” I said, confused. “It’s fine. Really.”
“I’m married and I feel like my behavior was out of line.”
“No!” I said again. “It’s fine. I enjoyed it, I…”
“You’re an attractive woman and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy it, too, but that wasn’t the point. I got carried away, and…”
Argh! I wanted to press my lips against his, kiss him, make him want to pull me close and do it all over again, except the only thing I managed to do was say, “If you think I deserve more punishment then I accept that and you can do it again if you’d like.”
“Oh, Jessika.” He laughed, but there was some undeniable twinkle in his eye. Or, I thought there was, but when I tried to figure it out, it was gone just as quick.
And then he asked me, “I know this is sudden, but would you consider becoming an egg donor for me and my wife? I’ll need to discuss it with her first, but I believe she’ll accept the idea. You’ll need to carry the child, too, but I’ll make certain you’re comfortable. I can arrange for you to have su
itable living quarters in my home for the duration of your pregnancy.”
“There’s no need to donate,” I blurted out. “We can just have sex…” I realized what I’d said before I finished, and the words hung there, awkward.
He stared at me for a brief moment, stared into me, and then he laughed again. Moving his hands away from my hips, he stepped away and walked to his office door.
“I…” I said, trying to think of something to say. Something witty, or sexy, or funny, or intelligent, but I couldn’t manage any of those.
“Are you busy tomorrow?” he asked. “Let’s arrange a lunch date. I’ll let you know what Beatrice thinks, and you can let me know if you’ll agree, too. Consider your answer ample repayment for the book, whether you agree or not. Those are my conditions. I won’t accept anything else.”
And, he left.
I stood there, stunned, staring at the door to his office. Did he just ask me out on a date? Not a real date, I guess, but…
I scrambled to clean the rest of his office, completely forgetting about my clothes. When I finished, I retrieved my outfit and put it on as best I could, but the shirt was ruined. Before I could worry about it, someone knocked on the door, opened it a crack, and slipped a package through and onto the floor before closing the door again and leaving.
Curious, I walked over to the package. On the top, written in a hasty scrawl, was a note that said, “Ms. Fevrier, courtesies of Asher Landseer.”
I opened the package. Inside was the most beautiful silk chemise dress I’d ever seen. I held it up to get a better look, marveling at it. It was shorter than anything I usually wore, the skirt stopping at the middle of my thigh, but it was wonderful.
I pinched the soft, silk fabric between my fingers and gawked at the lovely pattern colored into it; a cloudy sky on the left side, going from collarbone to hip, with a rich, red rose blooming up towards the right breast, and a deep green field from the waist down. A lighthearted but fashionable piece of clothing, the sort of thing I could wear to a casual spring ball(if I were ever invited to one). Had he really just replaced my cheap blouse with an expensive dress? When I turned it around to look at the back, two pieces of paper slipped out of the sleeve and fell to the ground.
One was a receipt, with a price I thought couldn’t possibly be right. It was a beautiful dress, but was it really that pricey?
The other was a personal note from Asher Landseer: “If you don’t like the dress, feel free to return it. I’ll see you tomorrow at noon. Meet me at The Simple Path. Reservations are under Asher Landseer. Don’t be late.”
His Absolute Requirements
*
I didn’t know what to wear for my meet up with Asher. He’d called it a date(or a lunch date to be specific), but I had a hard time thinking of it as such. That’s what the upper class called these things, wasn’t it? A lunch date wasn’t anything more than a business meeting at a restaurant for someone like Asher Landseer.
He’d made reservations at The Simple Path, one of the fancier Japanese restaurants in the city. I’d never been, though I’d always wanted to go. The food was supposed to be amazing, with the caveat that everything on the menu had an equally amazing price tag. I could afford it on occasion, if I really wanted, but it definitely wasn’t an everyday affair. And lunch at The Simple Path meant I’d need to put off saving for a weekend vacation or some similar extravagance, so I’d never bothered. An hour of lunch, or a trip to Maine’s beaches for a couple of days?
My God, I really wanted to go, though. I absolutely loved Japanese food. Sushi, sashimi, pork and chicken katsu, and even the occasional vegetable tempura. I dabbled in other entrees, but stuck with the basics most times. There was something utterly divine about a fried piece of sweet potato. It was indescribably amazing.
I wasted precious minutes contemplating food options, and wondering how exactly The Simple Path prepared them differently compared to my typical jaunts to Yi’s Hibachi Grill & Buffet. I couldn’t leave Asher waiting, couldn’t leave him sitting in the restaurant wondering if I’d show. Sure, he’d been a jerk to me the other day, had done some outrageous things, but…
I imagined it all over again. His hand grabbing me, my heart beating fast, his fingertips pressed into my wrist and able to feel each pulse of my veins. Him gently tossing me on his private meeting room table and stripping me down, throwing my clothes onto the floor, scattering them around like the pages of his antique book that I’d accidentally destroyed. And my subsequent arousal at all this. How could I find it attractive? I had no idea, and still couldn’t fathom it, but Asher had removed my distraction rather quickly, now hadn’t he? With his fingers, he’d…
Except a temporary solution didn’t solve everything. After, when I finished cleaning his office in only my pantyhose, I’d wanted him to want me, to take me again, but this time with something more than his fingers. And…
He barely spared me a glance. Barely wanted to notice I was cleaning or that I was in his office.
Then, later, why did he ask me what he’d asked? I knew the answer, understood his logic. His wife was infertile and disliked the idea of having children in the first place. Most likely any kids they had together would grow up under the watch of a live-in nanny as opposed to having real parents. That’s how rich families did things, right? I honestly didn’t know, but it sounded correct.
Asher, though, he sounded like he wanted children. He’d even asked me if I would consider being an egg donor for his wife. Except she wouldn’t want to carry any child to term, so I’d need to do that, too. Was that really donating, then? There were obviously ways to do something like that, but the situation seemed so far out there and strange that I couldn’t wrap my head around it.
What would I say? What was my answer? I’d put off thinking about it, unsure how to respond to him, except I needed to meet with him for lunch in…
Crap! Too much daydreaming, Jessika, I told myself. With nothing proper to wear to a classy place like The Simple Path, I snatched the chemise dress Asher gave me yesterday and put it on. Perhaps it was a little more casual than their typical patron’s garb, but it was the best I owned at the moment.
The dress was patterned silk, with a picture of a cloudy sky on the topmost part, and a grassy green field from the waist down, ending at the middle of my thighs where the skirt stopped. A beautiful, vibrant red rose bloomed from the grass and up towards the sky at my right breast. It was eye-catching and amazing. I hoped, for whatever reason, Asher found it the same.
There had to be a reason he asked me on a lunch date, right? Something more than needing to hear my answer to his question about bearing a child for him and his wife. The way he talked, it sounded like they had a rocky relationship. But could I be content in acting like some mistress to him, if that was the case? He hadn’t even offered a situation like that. I couldn’t accept it, anyways. I had standards and morals. If he tried to convince me of it, I’d have to turn him down. Except, maybe if…
I shouldn’t think these things, and I knew it, but it was hard not to. I was always a dreamer at heart, loving books and becoming lost in them. That’s what led me to this in the first place. My terrible choice of college degree brought me to a temp agency for work, which resulted in me cleaning the Asher Landseer’s office, and…
He liked literature, too, though. And maybe…?
Dammit! If I’d left five minutes ago, I might arrive on time. “Might” being the key word. Now I was definitely going to be late, and I still needed to finish my makeup. Why was I wearing sexy makeup to a casual lunch date?
I couldn’t understand it, myself.
…
Asher stood in front of the mirror, checking himself over. He had an appropriately casual suit; dark blue with a silvery undershirt. A matching blue tie collared him and kept him from putting on properly casual airs, so he slipped it off and tossed it to the floor.
He wondered, really wondered, why he was going through with this. Why had he asked Jessika to fat
her his children? Not that he required her to do much more than be a donator for his infertile wife, but to help sweeten the deal with Beatrice he’d asked if Jessika might be willing to carry the child to term, too.
And her answer? Well, why didn’t they just have sex! She said it more shyly than that, a certain sense of demurity in her manner, but the audacity of it. Or, what others might think as audacious, at least. Asher had thought quite long and hard about her proposal.
Really, why had he done what he did yesterday? Yes, he was upset about her destroying his book. Granted, he knew it wasn’t really her fault, and an antiquarian might be able to restore the book to its previous, undestroyed appearance. It wasn’t even about the book, though. He loved the book, appreciated Dante’s Inferno and Dante’s intent behind writing a work of that nature, but…
There were more books in the world. More copies of Dante’s Inferno, too. Probably even a copy exactly like the one she destroyed. It was expensive, but he could afford it.
He’d been on end, though. Nerve-wracked. Beatrice’s trip to the doctors kept him anxious. He knew what she wanted out of it, and she’d gotten exactly that, but what did he want? He wanted a family, children, a normal household, somehow, amidst his wealth and otherwise abnormal life.
Jessika was normal, in a way, but then again, she wasn’t. Asher recognized it in her immediately. He had a flair, some otherworldly knack, for understanding intelligence, and Jessika definitely had what he wanted. Women cared so little for reading these days, or so it seemed. Perhaps he only based his judgments off of Beatrice and her callous disregard for anything bookish. They had a magnificent library at home, with every sort of book imaginable, and yet she rarely bothered to go in there.
And, truth be told, she rarely bothered to remain at home, either. How many years had it been now since they’d started trying for a child? Only one, but it seemed far longer. They’d tried, seriously tried, only a few times during that year, too. He’d almost chalked it up to unavailability, but in some scheme of hers she’d suggested a visit to the doctors.