by Juniper Bell
Weakly, I nodded. I was in such a state, nothing more seemed possible. Certainly speech was not an option. He carefully unfastened the nipple clips. I slumped from relief and from the air on my burning nipples.
“Do you see how beautiful you are?”
The ache in his voice made me look up in surprise, then down at my chest. My nipples stood proud, dark and engorged. Freakin’ porn star tits.
“I’m tempted to have you keep these on all weekend, but I don’t think you can handle that yet.”
That word, yet, both terrified and thrilled me. As if a long future of new tests lay before me.
He put my clothes back in their proper order, except for my panty hose, of course. Let me tell you, wool against bare legs is not comfy at all. The scratchy feeling was what finally woke me from my trance. On wobbly legs, I got up from the chair. It took me some time to gather myself back together. I had to reassemble myself like an Ikea bookcase. I was Dana Arthur, lifelong resident of Lowlife, Long Island, community college graduate, with an abandoning mother and an alcoholic father. New receptionist. Strangely, that last item was the only one that seemed significant at all. The rest seemed like part of some old story I’d gotten tired of.
I hobbled out of the room. It was going to be a long day, I knew. A long weekend. A long, undetermined period of time before his go-ahead came.
Chapter Four
In case you’re wondering, I’d never experienced anything like this before. Once, an ex-boyfriend dropped hints about tying me up, but since he’d done time in juvie and wasn’t exactly trustworthy, I nixed that pretty quick. Why was it unthinkable with him, but unbelievably pleasurable with Simon? I thought about that mystery all afternoon. Simon was different. Even the sound of his voice made me weak. Not weak, exactly, but…hm, maybe the word is receptive. My body and mind were like one giant satellite dish taking in all his signals.
The other part of it was, he made me feel things I hadn’t known about. I like sex, always have. But this was different. This was deep-down, soul-shivering, mind-melting stuff. It wasn’t even sex, after all. At least not in the traditional boy penetrates girl sense. What I’d experienced at the hands of Simon was like nothing I’d ever imagined. He made me feel different. Special. And, in a weird way, powerful. I know I was the one who was tied up, and he was the one having his way with me. But the fact that he wanted to have his way with me, that I was worth so much focused concentration, well…it was a turn-on, to say the least. And I was hooked on it.
I knew he was turned on by what he’d done to me. I’d seen the lump in his pants. Occasionally I’d felt it brush against me while he was undressing me and tying me up. But he’d never referred to it. He’d been entirely focused on me.
Maybe that’s what a training period was all about.
My satellite dish ears were tuned in his direction all afternoon, but he made only one quick trip through the office to the restroom, which was out in the hall. While he was out, Brian the package guy arrived with a special afternoon delivery.
“Yo, yo, yo,” he said in greeting. He handed me the handheld digital pad to sign for the package.
“Hey there. What’s shakin’?”
“Same old, same old. How’s your new job treating you?”
Now there was a question I couldn’t answer honestly. “Not too shabby. One of the bosses is gone, so it’s pretty quiet.”
“Mr. Cowell.” Brian took the pad back and stuck the pen behind his ear. “Scary dude. Don’t screw up any calls when he’s around.”
“Really? I haven’t even met him yet.”
“Mr. Dirk seems cool, but watch yourself around Cowell.” He lingered, even though there were more packages on his dolly.
“Thanks for the tip.” I wondered if it would be appropriate to pump him for more information. But Simon might come back at any moment, and he probably wouldn’t appreciate the gossip.
“You hear about the Beasties playing at the Palladium next week?”
I love the Beastie Boys. Love love love ’em. Of course I knew they were playing. “Yeah.”
“I got tickets. Wanna go?”
His eager brown eyes looked so hopeful, I hated to let him down. He wasn’t bad looking. Hard body, like he went to the gym a lot. Boyish-looking face with one of those cowlicks, like Dennis the Menace. Not too bright, nice guy, someone I could probably wrap around my little finger. Problem was, what would I do with him? He’d bore me stupid.
“Sorry, my friend already got tickets.”
His face fell.
“Maybe I’ll see you there.”
He brightened again. See? Little finger. Right then Simon came back in. He looked back and forth between the two of us a few times. I tried to look innocent.
“Awesome. See you there.” Brian turned to go. “Oops. Mr. Dirk, I didn’t see you.”
Simon gave him the kind of look you give a goofy kid brother, and vanished into his office. Brian, after about ten different versions of “see you later”, left to deliver the rest of his packages. Shortly after that, the intercom rang from Simon’s office.
“Flirting?” said Simon.
“No way.” I felt my face flush. I didn’t want Simon to think I’d be interested in a doofus like Brian.
“That kid was all over you.”
“Not my fault.”
“No, I suppose not. Well, we’ll have to do something about it.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Isn’t that another call coming in?”
It was, but I couldn’t have cared less about that. I wanted to know what Simon was thinking about. But I had a job to do, after all. “I’ll be right back.”
I answered the other call, and transferred it through to Simon. The red light stayed on for a long time. I was dying for him to finish the call so we could continue our conversation. But, before that call ended, another one came in, and a little flurry of calls followed. It kept me busy until five o’clock. At the very end of the day, the phone rang one last time.
“Hey, girl, it’s Brandi. I’m downstairs.”
“What?”
“Will you tell this security dude to let me up? Never mind.” I heard her blow a kiss. “My hero,” she purred, off the phone. Then it went dead.
I jumped to my feet. Something told me Simon would not want his receptionist receiving her own visitors. I grabbed my coat, thinking I’d intercept her, but as soon as I put it on, Simon walked in from the inner offices. He had his coat over his arm, and his briefcase all packed up to go.
“You’re still here.” He locked the door that led to the inner offices.
“I…uh…a friend of mine is coming here to pick me up.”
Simon frowned. “What kind of friend?”
“A girlfriend. Brandi. I grew up with her.”
“Brandi?”
“With an ‘I’.” Like that mattered. The man rattled me, what can I say.
“I’d like to meet her.”
My heart sank into my boots. If he met Brandi, would he start thinking I was a slacker, go-nowhere tramp too? Nothing against Brandi, of course. She’s my friend, but she has no life goals that I’m aware of.
“Why?”
Simon narrowed his eyes at me. “You interest me. I’m intrigued to meet someone you grew up with. And, she could be a potential client.”
I laughed. “Brandi doesn’t need management consulting. Hair consulting, maybe.”
Brandi ambled through the door. Trust Brandi to find the slowest elevator in the building.
“Boo!” Her usual greeting.
I scowled at her, indicating Simon with a jerk of my head. “Hi, Brandi. This is my boss, Simon Dirk.”
Brandi held out her hand and cocked her head. Her lemony hair swept across her cheek. She liked him. Of course she did, he was smoking hot. Her body language instantly went all gooey. She looked like a wet noodle drooping in his direction. “Hi, there,” she breathed in her best Marilyn Monroe imitation.
“Nice to me
et you, Brandi. Dana tells me you grew up together.”
“Oh, we’ve done all sorts of things together.” One of her eyes dropped in a half-wink. I gulped. What was she trying to imply? Simon sure got it. A little mischievous glint flashed in his eyes.
“I’d like to hear about it sometime.” He put on his overcoat and buttoned it up.
“Anytime. Dana knows how to reach me.”
“Yes. She’s in the Yellow Pages under Embarrassing Friends.”
Brandi laughed. It’s literally impossible to shame her. “One thing about Dana, she’s got a killer sense of humor.”
“I’ve noticed that. One of her many fine qualities. Well, Dana, it was a very productive week. I’ll see you Monday. Don’t forget to lock up.”
“Okay, sir.”
He picked up his briefcase and strolled out of the office. Brandi pretended to follow after him, then turned and mouthed, “Oh My Fucking God” to me. I rolled my eyes and started turning off the lights.
“Hold on there, chickie. Why didn’t you tell me your new boss was a freakin’ Greek god?”
“A Greek god? Really, Brandi?”
“He’s so hot. I mean, hot, hot, hot. He’s like, hotter than Vin Diesel. Hotter than the guy on Entourage, the one with the green eyes. Oh, my God, Dana!” She toddled around the room like a drunken wind-up toy.
“Brandi, get a grip.”
“No, I can’t. He’s too hot. Unless I can grip onto his…”
“Okay, that’s enough.” I grabbed her by the arm and led her toward the front door. “Stay here and take deep breaths. I have to turn the phones off. Don’t move.”
I went to my desk and turned off the phones and grabbed my purse from the drawer. Some of my things had spilled out and it took me a couple of minutes to get everything back inside my purse. When I looked up, Brandi was kneeling on the floor next to the door to the office suite.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Leaving him my card.” She stood up. I saw the corner of one of her cards sticking out from under the door. I rushed over to grab it, but before I got there, she stuck out her foot and nudged it further inside, out of my reach.
“Brandi, are you trying to get me fired? You can’t come on to my boss!”
“Why not? He’s not my boss. Besides, what do you care? Jealous, maybe?”
“Which card did you leave?” Brandi had a variety of personal business cards. It was easier than writing down her number.
“Don’t worry, it’s the classy one.” She handed me a pink card with the black silhouette of a woman’s foot in a high-heeled shoe. The name “Brandi” was written on the strap of the shoe. Her phone number ran up the woman’s calf.
“Right, the classy one. I think I might kill myself.”
“Then I’ll have him all to myself. Come on, let’s go get a drink.”
“You’re buying.”
“You’re the one with the job.”
“Which you just sabotaged.”
Squabbling like this, we headed for the elevator. It wasn’t until we got inside and pressed the button that Brandi looked me over and frowned. “What happened to your pantyhose?”
I looked down. Over the tops of my boots peeked the ragged edge of what remained of my panty hose.
“Um, they got a run in them.”
“Don’t you just hate that?”
“Yeah.”
Drinks with Brandi, and Lucas and Mark and Dwayne, the new friends we met that night, took my mind off the unsatisfied itch in my pussy. Oddly, even though the guys were cute and I was horny as hell, I didn’t feel any urge to jump their bones. All I wanted to do was get to my own bed, because the sooner I went to sleep, the sooner the weekend would pass and I’d head off for work.
At work, maybe Simon would lock the office door, throw me on the desk and fuck me. Maybe he would let me curl naked on his lap like a kitten while he worked. I’d sneak my hand into his pants while he wrote his reports or whatever. I’d open his shirt, tongue his nipples. Rub my aching pussy against his thigh. I couldn’t stop the fantasies streaming through my head. And then they took a weird twist. What if the other boss, mysterious Mr. Cowell, showed up in the middle of all that?
Get a grip. I shifted around on my bar stool, tossed stale peanuts into my mouth and fake-laughed at one of Dwayne’s jokes.
Brandi didn’t seem to notice I was totally distracted, except for one time. Lucas, or was it Mark, was coming on to me hard, but I couldn’t be bothered. She dragged me with her to the bathroom, where she turned me to face her and glared at me sternly.
“What is wrong with you? They’re buying our drinks, the least you can do is throw them a bone.”
“You throw them a bone. I want to go home.”
“Oh, so you’re going to pine away for Mr. Gorgeous? Hello, you work for him. Besides, he’s too good for us.” She dabbed some bright coral lipstick on her mouth. That is, it looked bright coral in the glare of the harsh bathroom lights, but it was probably her usual pale pink.
“What does that mean?”
“That means maybe, if you’re lucky, he’ll fuck you. But he’s not someone you should be eating your heart out over.”
“You don’t know anything about him.”
“Well, you don’t either, so there.” She put the cap on her lipstick tube and, with her fingernail, made an outline around her mouth, where some of the lipstick had smeared.
“I know enough.”
“Enough for what?”
I didn’t answer. Enough to be obsessed. Enough to do anything he asked. Enough to want to die rather than risk never seeing him again. All right, that sounds over the top, but I’d had a few drinks by then. Someone came out of one of the bathroom stalls and the door swung back and forth.
Inside the stall, I saw the toilet had only flushed half the crap down; the rest was still circling around the rim of the toilet bowl. The floor was wet and bits of toilet paper were wadded up on the dirty tile. I felt disgusted by my life all of a sudden. How many hours had I spent in skeevy bars like this? Way, way too many.
“I gotta go home,” I told Brandi.
“What about Mark?”
“All yours.”
“That’s not funny.” But she looked pleased as she adjusted her tube top.
“Because it’s not a joke. He’s yours if you want him. If not, maybe they can all do some kind of circle jerk.”
“I don’t know what drug you’re on, but I hope you get off it soon. I want the real Dana back.”
The real Dana. In the cab, heading home through the urban trashscape, I wondered if Brandi had any idea who the real Dana was. I wondered if I knew. Maybe the only one who knew was Simon. He seemed to know things about me I never would have guessed at.
In the doorway next to mine, a junkie slumped on the front stoop. His face lifted as I skipped past him and I saw his blissful look. Clearly, he was in his own happy world, with no relation to current place or time. It could have been dawn, it could have been midnight, it could have been France, it could have been Cincinnati. He didn’t care.
I could relate. That’s how I’d felt earlier, in the company of Simon Dirk. Was that what it had come to? Was I a junkie, with Simon Dirk my fix?
Maybe so, but I didn’t care.
On Monday I arrived at work bright and early, at nine o’clock sharp. As soon as I walked through the office door, with its black lettering, I felt like I was coming back to life after a long weekend of nothingness. All the crap of my same-old life fell away. The door to the inner offices was already open and the lights were on. He was here. Anticipation flooded through me. My eyes craved the sight of him. My body tingled with awareness of his nearness.
As soon as I sat, my intercom buzzed, and I jumped. The man must have a hidden camera in here somewhere, I decided.
“Come on in,” Simon ordered.
Unable to stop the smile curving across my face, I headed inside for my first Simon fix of the week.
He seemed to b
e in a different mood this morning. Leaning with one hip against his desk, he sorted through a sheaf of papers. A kind of held-back excitement vibrated from him. His eyes looked brighter green than normal, like a freshly cut lawn. Bright white shirt, no jacket. A silvery tie. Totally, unbelievably yummy. He looked at me for a long moment and the excitement in his eyes seemed to grow. I was glad I’d worn the closest thing to a power suit I owned. It was a dark gray pinstripe that looked very proper and business-y, except it snugged close to my curves. No panty hose, naturally. The lining of the suit felt silky against my skin.
“You look very nice this morning.”
The approval from Simon made my heart skip a beat. “Thanks. So do you.”
“Do I?”
“Good enough to eat.” I kept my face straight, but he couldn’t miss that one.
He didn’t. Simon never missed a trick. “Is that an offer?” He raised an eyebrow in a wicked way that made me shiver.
“Wishful thinking,” I shot back.
His eyebrow went up even further. I wondered if it was coordinated with the movement of the lump in his pants. “I’d use the word naughty, not wishful.”
“Naughty works.” I felt more alive talking with Simon than I ever did during the rest of my hours.
“Tell me about your weekend.” He put down his papers and cocked his head toward me. I noticed how his thighs bulged against his pants. I wanted to feel those muscles against my face. Being in his presence made me absolutely shameless.
“I followed instructions.”
“Good. Did you see Brian?”
Brian? I blanked for a second on the name. Oh, right. The package delivery guy. “No. No Brian. Just Lucas, Mark and Dwayne.”
His eyes sharpened. “They didn’t touch you, did they?” He said it in a possessive tone that made my stomach tighten with excitement.
“Of course not. The only man who touched me was the cabdriver when he took my money.”