Disrobed (The Billionaire's Secretary)

Disrobed

Copyright 2013

Amy Malone

Chapter One

Tracey Gordon had a problem. He stood at his window, his deep green eyes staring out of his penthouse apartment. His eyes rested on the New York skyline, but it wasn’t the mosaic of buildings and asphalt he saw. It was the stark and thrilling image of Felicia’s bare brown skin, completely exposed.

It had been the night of the gala
, an important social event Felicia and he were going to. They had just gotten done with a tiring ten-hour all-nighter as Tracey was setting up a new international business consulting firm, and requisite documents were coming due. To save time they had decided to change in the office.

Ever the c
onsummate gentleman, Tracey offered his private bathroom for Felicia to ready herself (rather than having to use the one open to all employees on that floor). He planned to dress in his office, reviewing documents as he did so. Tracey was an expert multi-tasker, and was so consumed in their last minute business that he’d missed Felicia going to her car to pick up their outfits for the evening.

Returning
from her car, Felicia slung Tracey’s suit over his chair and smiled. She headed to the bathroom behind his desk with her dress over one arm and a blue container contact container in the other. She wore contacts to events like the one they were going to that evening but, if the truth were told, Tracey preferred her in glasses. The phone rang.

Tracey undid his tie and unbuttoned his shirt as he pic
ked up the receiver. Without Felicia manning the phones he wouldn’t have bothered, normally. However, they were cutting things close to the wire and he didn’t want any surprises.

“This is Tracey Gordon,”
he said curtly, but not unkindly. Putting the phone on speaker, he took off his shirt and unbuckled his belt. He was a tall man, and disciplined days and nights of exercise and recreational sports had given him the toned body of an athlete.

The person on the other end spoke about some minor matter that was not particularly urgent. Tracey was about to tell him to call back when he caught a sliver of yellow light out of the corner of his eye. It was coming from his private bathroom, and it stunned him into silence.

Out of a desire to avoid making noise, or because the door was broken, or just by pure accident, the door was open a crack. Tracey tried to look away or say something, but couldn’t. He was transfixed. Busy in the bathroom, completely unaware of him as she changed out of her clothes, was Felicia. She was wearing light pink satin boyshorts and a matching bra. The color complemented her deep brown skin well and Tracey noticed, for the first time, that she was gorgeous.

Felicia was putting her second contact in, and she was leaned over the sink into the mirror, her pert bottom sticking out nonchalantly. Blinking it into place, she unbuttoned her bra and placed it
on the marble counter next to the sink. Tracey’s pulsing hard-on raged for mercy underneath his boxer-briefs. What happened next seemed to happen almost in slow motion. She slid her pink underwear down slowly, stepping out of it one leg at a time. As she reached for what must have been a different pair she turned around, and their eyes met.

Earlier that day, as the last of the doc
uments was copied and filed; she had gone down to her car, tired. Felicia loved her work at the company, and she and Tracey worked well together as professional colleagues and as friends. It was one of the things she appreciated so much about the job. Past employers and colleagues had hit on her constantly (and poorly, at that), and she had found that she had had to always be careful about drawing a very clear line between her personal and professional life.

In the elevator o
n her way back up to the office, Felicia looked into the fluorescent light, letting her mind wander. Tonight would be another long evening of making nice with rich socialites and eccentric entrepreneurs. Tracey made a point of making an appearance at some such gathering once every few months, though she suspected that his reason for inviting her was that he didn’t like them himself. She sighed. He made important business connections at these gatherings, building a network that would help him to expand the company to his goals. She rubbed her eyes behind her glasses. For her own part, she would be grateful if she got through the evening without spilling wine on her dress.

She heard the
office phone ring as she approached Tracey’s office. She gave him a silent smile that looked askance at his picking up the receiver after hours. He responded with a wry grin. She knew what it meant. No rest for the weary. She opened the door to his private bathroom, closing it behind her while looking for the light switch at the same time. She checked her phone. It was seven in the evening on Saturday. The gala started at eight. She picked up her pace, quickly but expertly taking her dress off.

Before going further she decided to switch to her contacts. Reaching into her purse, she took out a small blue container. Leaning closely into the mirror Felicia took a moment to look at her face. She was beautiful she realized, off-handedly. She smiled, feeling sexy turned her on but she had not time to appreciate the feeling.
“And no one to appreciate it with, anyway,” she thought to herself. She removed her glasses, putting them into their pearl-colored case and into her bag. Opening her contact case, she put each contact in.

She decided not to wear a bra. With the sinopia
brown strapless evening gown she was intending to wear, it wouldn’t work anyway. Since she’d been at the office since morning, she decided to change her underwear. Pulling down her boyshorts, she noticed how good the pink satin lace fabric felt against her skin. Stepping out of them, she turned around to reach for the changing bag she had brought up with her dress.

She froze. Whether the door had slipped open or had been opened on purpose she didn’t know, but what she did know was that the door was now open and someone was looking through. It was Tracey. 

Their eyes met, and Felicia realized his shirt was off.
Her eyes ran across his bronze, chiseled chest. She looked down at his crotch, and could see that his pants were unbuckled, but not pulled down. His boxer briefs peaked out from his zipper, pulled taut and aiming in her direction. She had seen him only once with his shirt off – in a limousine on their way to an airport. This was different.

His look was fierce, dangerous. It was the look of a lion before it pounced. Sh
e felt that the slightest move could incite him to rip the bathroom door off of its hinges and ravage her. She realized, suddenly, that that was what she wanted, but she was afraid. Reflexively, she had covered her breasts and privates with her hands, but what she really wanted was to stand up with her chest out, turn slowly around and put her hands on the marble counter, jutting her butt out as she had done while putting her contacts in and say “Take it”.

What she ended up doing was closing
the door to the bathroom and putting her back against it. She realized she was breathing fast. She took a couple of breaths.
Calm down Felicia
.

“You okay in there?” Felicia was startled by Tracey’s baritone voice. Tracey was handling the situation like he did everything: directly. She chuckled. Leave it to him to refuse to let the situation be awkward.

“I’m fine; I’ll be out in a minute.”

“Alright.
I’m going to finish changing and double check a few things. I’ll let you know when the limo arrives.”

“Okay.”

There was a silence. What was she doing? She should yank open the door and pull him into that bathroom. Or at least tell him that she wanted him, that he should just take her because she didn’t know how to say “yes”.

“And Felicia?”

She didn’t respond. She had barely been able to speak before. What had just occurred had been the most unspeakably erotic thing to ever happen to her.

“I like the dress.”

She heard him walk away from the door and breathed a sigh of release. It felt like it had been eons since she had had a man. A good man, at least. She’d dated men, but the relationships tended not to last for more than a couple of months when their lack of ambition or doormat mindset or less-than-stellar performance in bed became just too much for her.

But Tracey… She had never thought about it. When they’d first met she remembered having a crush on him, but that was when she was new and trying to establish herself as more tha
n just a pretty face and body. It was an uphill battle for her, at every new job. The high-powered businessmen at her last two jobs were especially persistent. It seemed to her as if they, completely tired of their trophy wives and ditzy mistresses, were just looking for more sport. At her first corporate job, the only other black employee had put it best:

“Girl, they’ve never had any brown sugar and they KNOW they are missin’ out!”

Felicia laughed. She missed Cheryl. She had gotten a job offer as a project coordinator in another city, and had moved away.

Besides
attempting to be professional, she’d been in a relationship with a man named Felix. Felix Fitzpatrick. The mere thought of the name was enough to make her shudder. That sociopath of a man had dominated her life for some of the most hellish years of it. She’d confided in her friend, Cheryl, that she didn’t know what to do. When she finally broke it off, she’d had to cut all ties with him. He was just too good at worming his way inside of her head.

Tracey had been there for her during the time immediately before and after the break up.
Over the years she’d learned to look to him as someone she could trust and confide in. Felicia was strong, but it was still good to have a solid shoulder when she needed it. And Tracey had never asked for anything in return.

That aside, her physical response to him had been too strong, too sudden. There was no ignoring it forever. She realized that with the gala ahead of them for the evening, there was no dealing w
ith the situation at the moment, either.