Taking Her Boss (2 page)

He thought a moment. “I won’t hurt anyone. I wouldn’t hurt you.” He stopped, and then added, “You may…hurt me, punish me if I misbehave.”

I nodded.

“It must be between us,” he reminded me.

“I know,” I said. “You can trust me, Bruce.”

He smiled, a brilliant one, one that I had never seen before.

I went to the door of my office and turned the lock. He waited, hands at his sides, loose.

“What I’d like,” I said as I stood behind my desk and eased my bottom onto the smooth surface of the blotter, “is you, on your knees before me.”

He moved woodenly at first. “Close the door,” I said as he neared. “Lock it,” I ordered. He did as he was told and then he was kneeling before me, still in his jacket and tie. A hot hand grazed my thigh, a nose pressed close to my sex, rubbed against the moisture on my panties.

“No,” I said. “Not yet.”

He stopped and sat back on his knees.

“Remove my panties.”

His hands slid under my skirt, up my thighs, and pulled at the elastic band drawing the bit of silk along my legs and off. Then he sat back on his legs, head bowed, my panties scrunched up in his hands.

“I want your mouth on me, your tongue sliding over my clitoris, slipping between the lips of my sex,” I said as I sat back on the desk.

He, with the utmost care and gentleness, pushed my skirt further up around my hips, rested my legs on his shoulders, and pressed his mouth to my center. I was glad that I had gotten a wax this morning, and that Bruce was faced with a thin, pleasing line rather than the sometimes-unruly bush.

Pressing his nose through the slit, he held it there breathing in as though it truly was a rose, all soft petals and sweet scent. And then he lapped along the slit, nipped, bit and nuzzled until I was pulling his hair and pushing at his forehead. But he kept at it until I was trembling, batting myself against his mouth, and biting my lip to keep from keening.

He pressed his face into my inner thigh, and then held his cheek there until the trembling subsided. “May I…”

“No,” I said.

“I just want to feel you.”

“No.” I don’t know where it came from, but I suddenly needed to get away. I lifted my leg over his head and slid off the desk. “I have to go.” I fixed my skirt, picked up my purse, and without another word, I walked around him. He fell back onto his bottom sending my chair skating back against the wall. He was looking down at his hands and the bit of pink silk that they held as I walked through the door.

The next morning, it was as though nothing had happened between us. There was a general staff meeting with breakfast in the boardroom. Trays of hot buttered croissants, iced Danish, spiced as well as regular coffee, cranberry and orange juice, and slices of mango, pineapple, melon, and fat strawberries.

“Somebody’s upgraded the fare,” one of the account execs said to a colleague as he loaded his plate. “Where’d they bury the doughnuts and bagels?” The statement elicited a burst of chuckles from the growing crowd.

“You lot deserve the upgrade,” Bruce said as he came into the room. “Two new clients, and the Blake cereal campaign is performing well in the test markets.”

He cast me a generic smile, the same one he’d given everyone else in the room. I had expected him to be angry or sullen, but he wasn’t. He was jovial, spirited even as he took his seat at the head of the table. I sat in a corner to his right nibbling at a piece of melon and sipping coffee. I figured it was a good place because I was nearby if he needed me, but out of his immediate vision. The table filled quickly followed by the seats that lined the walls. By the time the graphics guys made it up from the basement, there was standing room only and the fruit was running thin. They stocked up on coffee, rolls, iced Danish, and found spaces to lean on the wall.

Davies was in rare form. He listened intently to reports, offered suggestions and praise where warranted, solved disputes with the Wisdom of Solomon and delivered quips like a seasoned stand-up comic. Birch who sat at the other end of the table chimed in only occasionally. He, too, recognized the high that Davies was on and was more than willing to take full advantage of it. Everyone filed out of the meeting full and happy, and when they were all nearly gone, he turned to me with a beatific smile before gathering his notepad and file folder and following the crowd.

I stood there stunned for a full five minutes before I found my way back to my office. Our little interlude the night before had pleased him. I had to think what to do with this revelation. I had to think whether or not I would proceed. It was clear that he saw it as a beginning, but I wasn’t sure it was something I could do or even wanted to do. I got my purse and told Claire, Davies’s assistant cum secretary, that I wasn’t feeling well and was going home for the afternoon.

Davies called, but I didn’t answer the phone so he left a message on my machine expressing his concern and wishing me well. The next morning I’d made up my mind. I handed Bruce a key card to a room I’d rented at a Super 8 off I-75 south. It was clean and catered to families on road trips to Six Flags or Disneyland. I’d stayed there the night before and watched the mothers sit under umbrella-covered tables and sip soda from cans while their kids splashed around in the tiny kidney-shaped pool just off the parking lot. The fathers spent their time loading and unloading SUVs and Volvo station wagons.

He held the key in the palm of his hand as though he wasn’t sure what it was. The hooded look he cast me seemed uncertain for a moment, but it disappeared quickly and turned blank. I told him to go there at nine, to shower well and wear a polo shirt, jeans and sandals, nothing else. He nodded and tucked the key into an inside pocket. He asked no questions and we continued our day as though we hadn’t spoken of the coming evening. We sat through a brainstorming session with the team assigned to Alex’s new furniture line, had lunch with a potential client, met with another client who was less than pleased with the cost of production for a series of thirty-second spots. The day ended just before five after the two of us met with Claire to update our schedules and give Claire instructions regarding letters and contracts that needed to be generated. Through all of this, he never touched me or gave me a look that was out of the ordinary. I followed his lead, but I must admit that I was a bit nervous and suffered from inattentiveness from time to time, but no one seemed to notice.

When I heard the door click and then open, I was finishing up in the bathroom. “Glory,” he called in an almost whisper.

“Here,” I replied. “Take a seat on the bed. I’m almost done.” I heard the door close, the click of the security lock, followed by the soft swish of the mattress as he sat down. I’d slipped on the thigh high stockings, the black thong and the thigh length black silk robe with the pink dragon embroidered on the back. I’d already done my eyes, shading and lining them with dark colors and brushed out my hair so that it was full and wild. I finished the makeup bit with a smudge of blush, lipstick and a smear of rouge on my nipples as an afterthought. OK. I was ready. All I needed now was courage. He could wait. The wait would be good for him. I slipped my hand deep into my thong and stroked my clitoris and the lips of my vagina until I was moist. The blood rushed into the little nub causing it to jut out between the lips. I held on to the rim of the washbasin to steady my legs. A flush stained my face and my eyes were dark and bright, I moistened my lips with my tongue and smiled at the hot girl in the mirror. Tugging my thong back into place, I stood up, dabbed a quick towel under my breasts to remove any dampness and decided that I was ready to play.

I opened the door and stood in the tiny space between the closet and the beds. His eyes had apparently been trained on that spot. My rouged breasts and the flat of stomach that ended where the slim black triangle began burned and tingled as his eyes, like fingers, trailed over them. At first, it was difficult not to cover the expanse of exposed skin, to tug the black silk kimono closed, to hide from the hunger in his eyes, but it was exciting, too. It was exciting to let
his eyes scorch my skin, to know that he wanted me like that, to see the rawness of it in his face, the way he held his lips.

I walked to him and stood in front of him, a hairbreadth from his lips, letting him smell me and feel my heat. When he closed his eyes in order to master his control, I moved forward a notch and rubbed my nipples across his lips. His lips and tongue sought my nipples like a new, still blind puppy sucking and lapping, but his hands did not touch me. I let him suckle for a while and then I pulled away.

“I want you to make me come with your mouth and your hands,” I said as I moved over to the other bed and sat down across from him. Arms straight, I leaned back and opened my legs. In seconds, he was kneeling between them, his mouth on my breasts again making the nipples long and hard and wet, his hands gripping and massaging my ass. He slipped the thong down my thighs and bent to run his tongue down the slight arrow of hair there. I opened wider to him and he began to rasp his tongue against the lips of my pussy as his fingers continued to tug and coax my nipples. I squirmed beneath his assault and his tongue slipped deeper into the moist lips and bumped into the jutting nub. A jolt passed through my body and my legs closed around his head. He rasped his tongue over the nub, nudging it back and forth, as he inserted two wide fingers into my already dripping passage. His fingers created a rhythm counter point to his tongue, and my body began trembling, jerking as I came, but he held me down with his mouth, and he continued to kiss and suck at the continuously tingling lips of my pussy. I had to push his head away before I screamed and startled the families on the other side of the walls. I pushed at his head, but he resisted.

“I want…” he began as he clutched at my thighs. “May I…?” he was asking, his cheek to my inner thigh as though he was afraid to look up at me.

“No,” I said, and pushed hard, then harder. “No,” I said louder, and kneed him in the chest. He fell back and landed sprawled on the carpet.

“No,” I said as I pulled my thong back on and stood. “Don’t touch me unless I give you permission,” I reprimanded as I ground a spiked heel into his jean-clad thigh. Something in me wanted to laugh and say “bad dog” and smack him with a newspaper, but I didn’t have a newspaper and I was glad because I was afraid that it would be too much and that I’d end up breaking character.

“Get up,” I instructed. “Sit on the bed.”

He did as he was told. I stood in front of him, my pussy level with his face. He leaned forward. “Don’t touch me.”

He sat back and waited.

“Have you ever been fucked in the ass?” I asked.

He looked away. I grabbed him by the chin and tilted his face upward, rough. His eyes evaded mine. “I asked you a question.”

He didn’t say anything. I released his chin and slapped him, hard across the face. My fingers left a burning red mark. He flinched and for a moment, his eyes flashed anger. My stomach jumped.
Had I overstepped? Hey, you learn by doing.

I tilted his chin up again and claimed his eyes with mine, making sure that mine were hard, unrelenting. He nodded. I smiled. “Are you a fag?” I asked. He shook his head no. “What do you call it when you let men fuck you?”

“It was only the one time.” His words were barely audible. “I was curious.”

“Did you like it?”

“It hurt at first,” he confessed.

I stepped back and looked him over.

“Take off your pants,” I ordered. “I want to fuck you.”

He stood and slowly, almost reluctantly, unzipped and removed his pants while I went to unpack the strap-on dildo I had bought for the occasion. When I turned to him, his cock was full-on and straining upward. He was well-endowed, thick and long, and for a moment I regretted the limitations I had placed on tonight’s festivities.

“Come here,” I ordered. “Secure this for me.”

He came to me and dropped down to his knees in order to reach between my legs to secure the straps, a set of buckles and Velcro with an underside of something soft and cushiony that allowed it to lay and hang comfortably around my hips. His fingers and hands lingered on my inner thighs leaving trails of tingles wherever they touched. I let it go. When he was done, he sat back on his haunches and looked up at me, his thick member straining against the cotton of his polo. My own penis jutted out just where my clitoris sprouted. It was a snub-nosed hard rubber piece, about five inches or so. I didn’t want to hurt him.

“I want you on the floor between the beds, your face in the carpet, your ass in the air.” I pointed.

He hesitated.

“Now,” I ordered.

He did as he was told.

I knelt behind him and held the weight of his balls in my hands. Then I bent down and sucked as much of them as I could into my mouth. They were tart and salty. I slid my tongue over and under them stroking with wide wet licks. What I couldn’t touch with my mouth, I fondled with my fingers. He groaned and pushed his bottom further up into the air. I took that as my clue that he was ready for the next step.

I stuck three of my fingers into a jar of cream that I purchased along with the dildo. The boy behind the counter said it was great for novices, “makes anything go in with ease and it tastes good,” he’d said grinning at me as he took my money. I slid my fingers down the length of his ass, over his balls, and up and through the crevice. His ass trembled. He whimpered. I slid one, then two fingers into the puckered hole and he groaned. I slid another and he whimpered and shivered like a big dog. I pressed my lips to the fleshy part of his ass and took a little bite, then nipped the other side. He pressed himself closer to my face. I reached under him to tug and stroke him, my hands running the length of his rod. It was hot and tight and dripping. He was breathing hard, and I could feel his anticipation. I gripped my own penis with a well-oiled palm, tugging it with a fist a few times to ease the cream over its surface, adding an extra dab for the tip.

I rose up behind him, pressed my cock to the puckered hole, and pushed, slow at first, but he pushed back against me and I slid in farther. There was a slight protrusion built into the dildo harness that pressed against my clitoris every time I pressed my cock into Bruce. It was addictive. Before long I was banging my cock into Bruce’s tight little ass and every hit sent a series of surges and shivers back to my tight little nub. It seemed to tighten and grow with each thrust. I tensed the muscles of my ass to get a harder, firmer thrust. I held on to his hips and let the rush and lighting surge through my body; it was a clean rush of power and pleasure, but I didn’t surrender to it completely. Bruce groaned, a loud surrender, and nearly rose up. I reached under him, gripped, and tugged the length of sex with my slippery fingers. His body jerked and released a spray of semen saturating the carpet. I pulled out and he fell forward covering his mess.