by Juniper Bell
Instead, he kept pulling at my nipples. Something drummed deep inside me. Every time he squeezed my breasts, the hot drumbeat grew stronger. He seemed to have utter control over what was going on inside me. I tried to get a grip on myself. What was I doing here, how did I end up half-naked, those magic hands governing my nipples?
An excitement so intense I thought I might explode made me forget anything but the feelings growing inside me. I forgot about controlling myself, about being professional, about anything except the pleasure overwhelming my senses. I gave in to it. I had to. My body bucked helplessly. Everything went blurry. I didn’t know where I was any more. I didn’t know who I was.
And then…
He let go of me, and I staggered back against him. For a horrible moment a black hole opened in front of me, a hole in which there was no Simon and no satisfaction. No excitement, no mystery. In that one instant I knew nothing was going to be the same. I had to stay out of that dark place, no matter what it took.
I whimpered pitifully and turned my head to plead with him silently. I put my hands to my breasts and lifted them up toward his mouth. Did I care if I was begging? Hell, no. I’d have crawled on the carpet if it got him to touch me again.
“Want more?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
Yes, you gorgeous mother-effer. “Yes, please.” I said as politely as I could with my wobbly voice. “Boss,” I added, for extra points.
“Your hands are supposed to be behind your head, remember?”
Oops. I scrambled to get the hair back up onto my head, but he stilled my hands.
“Never mind that now. Go stand by the window.”
My throat closed on a squeak of protest. Sure, we were on an upper floor, but what about the people in the building across the street?
“Go.”
I went. Apparently I had no ability to resist a command from Simon. When I reached the picture window, I stopped. I saw no movement in the offices across the way. Glancing nervously down at the street, all I saw were the oblivious tops of people’s heads.
“Put your hands on the glass.” His voice right behind me made me jump, but also made me unbearably happy.
Gingerly, I did what he said, spreading my arms wide as though hugging the glass. My sweaty hands slipped a little on the smooth surface.
“The bad news is I’m afraid I have to punish you. The good news is I’m going to make you come. Are you okay with that?”
With which? Or both? Did I deserve to be punished? Did it matter? My pussy was throbbing with anticipation. Of the punishment or the orgasm or both, I wasn’t sure.
I gave a little nod. Next thing I knew I felt a sharp slap on my ass. The fabric of my skirt protected me, but didn’t stop the heat slamming into my groin like a cruise missile. I squirmed and whimpered. Another slap made me groan. Another flurry of whacks peppered my behind. By the time he stopped, I was panting and so turned on I could have come right there against the glass. Simon caressed my ass, and for one dizzy moment I thought he was about to pull up my skirt and fuck me.
No such luck.
Instead he brought his hands around to my front, to my nipples. It seemed like forever since he’d touched my tits. I eagerly thrust forward into his hands.
“I thought you might like to know that the guys in the law firm across the street have binoculars permanently aimed at our office.”
Oh God. I started to jerk away, but his hands closed on my nipples and my body was no longer mine to command.
He must have licked his fingers, because when their cool slickness flicked my breasts, my body reacted like a neutron bomb. Two hard pinches, fingers tugging at my aching nubs, and a mind-blowing orgasm burst over me. Everything went black and red. I was like a little rowboat capsized by a giant wave of pleasure. My body jerked and twisted, totally out of control. I forgot everything, the office, the lawyers across the street, my punishment. The intense waves kept coming and coming the more he pulled at my nipples. I tried to get away from those maddening fingers, but he wouldn’t allow it. Instead, he stayed with me, his strong fingers tight on my flesh.
“Let yourself go, don’t fight it,” he murmured in my ear. The two of us rode it out as I shrieked and shuddered from the intense orgasm.
When it was over, I felt dazed, like I was coming out of a coma. Simon held me up, which was a good thing, because otherwise I would have slid to the floor like a deflating blow-up doll. Sweat cooled on my skin. My heart still raced at about ten times its normal speed. I have to admit, I was a little freaked. How could he make me come just by spanking me and playing with my nipples? I mean, is that normal? My body loved it, but my mind had a few questions. One in particular.
“Are you serious about the lawyers?”
“No. That building is empty. I wanted to see how you’d react. I’m quite pleased.” He stroked the damp skin of my stomach.
Well, goody for me. Sanity started to return like a cold shower. I stared down at the carpet, chewing on my bottom lip. Reality’s a bitch after something like that. I mean, I’d just had the most intense orgasm of my life…thanks to my brand new boss. What now? Even though I hadn’t read the employee manual (if there even was one), I was pretty sure it didn’t deal with proper post-orgasm procedure. What is the appropriate thing to say? “Thanks, that was great, you’ve got a call holding on line two?”
Luckily, Simon took charge. He briskly put my clothes back on me, including the jacket, and turned me toward the door. “Excellent start. A few areas to work on.”
Huh? I gaped at him like I was mentally challenged. A good orgasm does that to you. Turns your brain to marshmallow fluff.
“You’ll learn,” he said, then changed the subject. “I have an out-of-office meeting the rest of the day. If you like, you can take the afternoon off.”
His businesslike attitude snapped me from my zone-out.
“On my first day? I don’t want to start off on the wrong foot.” Uh-oh, had I already done exactly that? I pushed the thought aside. “I’ll stay. What if you get a drop-in you aren’t expecting? It looks unprofessional if there’s no receptionist.”
Simon smoothed the front of my jacket, looking amused. “Unprofessional, eh?”
I shrugged. He had a point. The concept of professional seemed to have a different definition at Cowell & Dirk.
“Have it your way. There’s lunch in the kitchenette. Make sure to lock up when you leave. Office hours are nine to five, no need to hang around after that. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
With a closed, businesslike look on his face, he hurried around his office, gathering overcoat and briefcase. I went back to my desk and answered a couple calls. When he left, he barely looked at me, dashing out the door with a wave of his hand that could have been nothing more than swatting a fly. He left with no instructions or requests as to what I should wear to work the next day.
After he left, I sat at the desk feeling dizzy. It had all happened so fast. One minute I’d been answering phones, the next minute I was coming in his office, with downtown spread out before me. An orgasm with a view. Go figure.
At least he didn’t want to fire me now. But still…what the hell was I thinking?
Don’t get me wrong. I’m no innocent. I’d been having sex on a regular basis since the age of fifteen. Girls who grow up in my neighborhood don’t wait around. We get right to it. The only question is whether we get pregnant or not. I chose not. And I was known to be picky. Some might even say snotty. I didn’t like to get it on with just anyone. There had to be something about a guy that grabbed my interest, that wasn’t going to be the same old, same old.
Simon Dirk was definitely not the same old, same old. How had he known he could make me come just by playing with my nipples? How had he known the teddy would affect me like that? Who was he? Where had he come from?
Well, I had the office to myself. I glanced around, looking for hidden security cameras. I didn’t see anything obvious. Pretending to look for
a pen, I searched through the drawers of the receptionist’s desk. Staplers, post-it notes, pencils, pens, a paperweight, a calendar, extra Rolodex cards, extra staples, paper clips, note pads, you get the picture. A mini Office Depot, but nothing with any clues to the personal secrets of Simon Dirk.
There was, however, a computer. I hadn’t been using it, so it was shoved to the side of the desk. I pulled the keyboard toward me and tilted the monitor so only I could see what was on the screen. I opened Internet Explorer and Googled the name Cowell & Dirk. A Citysearch entry said it was a management consulting firm. I didn’t know what that meant in regular English. Besides, I didn’t care much anymore about the firm. I wanted to know about my boss.
I Googled Simon Dirk, and this time a few interesting things popped up. Turned out he’d gone to a university in England (I thought I’d detected a slight accent) and was married once. Married! You can imagine how I dug into that one. I didn’t find much, except his marriage had lasted five years and his ex-wife was the heiress of an import-export company. So he’d been living the high-class life. It didn’t surprise me. He had a certain flair about him, sophisticated but edgy. Like a rougher, more down-and-dirty James Bond. The Daniel Craig version.
Those tidbits of information gave me plenty to chew on. Of course, I was dying to investigate his office to see what else I could find out. I went into the kitchenette and found a plastic tray of submarine sandwiches in the fridge. While I ate one of them (roast beef and tomato), I edged closer to his office door. The light was off and the door was closed. I leaned against the wall and, while acting totally focused on my sandwich, scanned every inch of the hall and kitchenette for signs of a camera. There was nothing.
Finally, deciding it was probably safe, and I could make up some excuse in case I was busted, I put my hand on the knob and turned. It was locked. For some reason, this pissed me off. What was he hiding? Why didn’t he trust me? Why was I good enough to let into his office as a sexual plaything, but not when he was gone? I know it didn’t make a lot of sense. I admit I do have a temper. Like a sulky child, I stuck out my tongue at the door and stomped back to my desk. I spent the rest of the day answering calls when I felt like it, talking to Brandi for a couple of hours, and playing solitaire on the computer.
It wasn’t until the very end of the day, when I was straightening up the desk, that I noticed the yellow sticky note half-hidden under the mouse pad.
DA, Whatever you do, don’t use the computer. If you choose to disobey this order, be prepared to accept the consequences. SD
You can imagine what went through my mind. I’d seen Simon writing that note first thing in the morning. But I’d never thought about it again. He certainly hadn’t given it to me, or made sure I understood the contents. Instead, he’d slid it under the mouse pad where I was unlikely to find it, unless, of course, I was using the computer. Which I wasn’t supposed to do. Oh, he was a sneaky bastard. I had to admire his nerve. I could easily tell him to fuck off, to take his computer and shove it. And maybe I did have that reaction at first.
But—hell, I’ll admit it. That phrase, be prepared to accept the consequences, sent a chill all the way through me. A nice chill. An excited chill, like when you’re watching a horror movie and you can’t wait to see what happens next, even though you’re hiding your face in your boyfriend’s shirt. Because you know whatever happens next is going to rock your world. Yeah, that’s exactly how it felt. Tomorrow, Simon Dirk was going to rock my world. I’d broken the rules, I’d used the computer, and tomorrow, I was going to catch hell for it. I couldn’t wait.
Chapter Three
In my town, you always breathe a sigh of relief when you get home and find your building still standing. If you get down the hall and up the stairs without encountering a junkie or a mugger, it’s an added bonus. I got lucky on all counts. My speck of an apartment was still right where I left it, along with all my stuff. Such as it was. As soon as I got inside and locked the deadbolt, I flung off my jacket and tight-ass skirt. The teddy went too. I stuffed it deep into my closet (well, as deep as six inches of closet space allowed). I’d had enough of it, and besides, every time I looked at it, I thought about Simon’s hands on me.
I put on a New York Knicks jersey and a pair of sweats then curled up on my futon to think. My futon is my favorite spot for figuring out my shit. That’s where I’d planned my escape route years ago, while listening to my dad scream at my stepmom about how fat her thighs were. Step one, finish high school. Step two, get a job to help pay for community college. Step three, go to community college. Step four, entry-level job. Along the way, don’t fall off the stepping-stones into drugs, pregnancy, or insanity.
Step four, I admit, had a lot of false starts. But Cowell & Dirk was different. It was a respectable firm, whose function I was sure to figure out in time. A receptionist job was a good starting point. And so far, the usual problems of boredom and restlessness did not seem to be a factor. Of course, the downside was I’d begun my new career on a very unconventional footing.
For the sake of job security, it would probably be better to keep things on a more businesslike level. It would be boring, but I’d have a better chance of hanging on to my job. It would definitely be best if I stuck to answering phones and signing for packages. If I avoided Simon Dirk and focused on my duties.
The big question was, could I do that? There was something that drew me to my green-eyed boss. I wanted to be near him. I wanted to be next to him, under his skin, under his body. I wanted whatever attention he chose to give me. In a choice between answering phones and answering Simon’s call, how could I resist Simon?
It blew me away, how after one day he’d taken over my brain. I thought I was immune to the male species, thanks to the bozos I grew up with. It always cracked me up when well-meaning relatives or neighbors asked me when I was going to find a boy and settle down. They always had a dopey, misty look in their eyes when they brought it up. What made them think I had any intention of latching myself to a boy? Did I want to spend the rest of my life picking up after some loser who couldn’t keep a job, who spent every night plowing through a twelve-pack, who got fatter and more slobbery every year? Because from where I was sitting, that’s what marriage looked like.
I knew some people didn’t see it that way. Look, I’d sat through just as many Hollywood movies as the next person. I’d seen Sleepless in Seattle, Titanic, Twilight, whatever. I knew the myth. But I didn’t believe it. I knew it was made up, I knew none of it was even close to reality.
No, I wanted something else. I wanted, I don’t know, something exciting. Something different. “Something else.” I guess that’s the best way to describe it.
Anyway, that’s how I spent my night. Practicing how to be professional, rejoicing in the peace and quiet—random gunfire and brawling homeless men don’t count—and secretly anticipating another encounter with the mysterious Simon Dirk.
The next morning, I set off for work in a more normal outfit. Courtesy of Ross Dress for Less, I wore a red wool dress, belted around the waist. Buttons ran from neckline to waistband, and below the belt it fell to my knees. Needless to say, I stuck to regular underwear, as well as pantyhose and boots. The security guard looked a little disappointed by my appearance. Too bad. I wanted to make a different statement today. Today, I was fresh-faced and ready to tackle those phones. I was all business. I was a young career girl on the move.
My desk was empty, waiting for me. So was a note placed carefully in the center, where I couldn’t possibly miss it.
Please see me as soon as you get in. SD
Okay, then. I took a deep breath, took off my coat, hung it on the coat rack, put my purse in a drawer, and walked through the door into the inner offices. Simon was in his shirtsleeves, working at his computer. I heard the smooth click-clack of keys as I stepped through his office door. It looked like he’d gotten a haircut. I noticed how his black hair had a rebellious wave to it. If he let it grow out, it would probably be curly. Cut
short, its waves veered in unpredictable directions, uncontrolled by whatever expensive hair product he used.
When I reached his desk, he looked up at me with a cool, thoughtful expression. “Dana.”
“Good morning, sir.” I don’t know where the sir came from. I don’t think I’d ever said the word before in my life, let alone addressed someone that way.
“What am I to do with you?”
“I’m sorry about the computer.”
“The computer is only part of it.” He swiveled the computer monitor so I could see it. A QuickTime video was playing. I looked at myself trying to open his office door, then sticking out my tongue at it. So much for being professional.
“A camera? But I—”
“You looked for it, I know. Points for being aware of the possibility, and for the obvious thoroughness of your search. You’re not only beautiful, you’re a smart girl.”
The compliment made me feel like kissing his feet. But I didn’t feel all that smart at the moment. In fact, I felt like I’d walked right into a trap.
“You’re also a handful. There’s a bit of the devil inside you, isn’t there?”
“Have you been talking to my stepmother?”
Simon smiled, not exactly a warm smile, but enough to bring a gleam to his eyes. “I don’t need to. I can tell. Even without this video, I would have known that. It’s why I hired you.”
“So I’m not fired.”
“You’re still employed, if you choose to be.” He leaned back in his chair and steepled his hands under his chin. The gesture seemed to mean the ball was in my court. “But you must choose. For obvious reasons, only certain people do well at this firm. We’re very selective. If it doesn’t feel like a good fit for you, we’ll offer you a nice severance, an excellent reference, and call it a day.”
I may have barely survived community college, but I’m no dummy. I knew what he was saying. If I stayed, it would be on his terms, and it would be with my full consent. No lawsuits down the line. And the severance…he didn’t want me to stay out of desperation.