Taming the Alter Ego

Taming the Alter-Ego

An erotic novella by

Shermaine Williams

Published by Phaze Books

Also by Shermaine Williams

The Challenge

The Second Challenge

This is an explicit and erotic novel

intended for the enjoyment

of adult readers. Please keep

out of the hands of children.

www.Phaze.com

Taming the Alter-Ego

Copyright © 2011 by Shermaine Williams

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

Edited by Zena Gainer

Cover Art © 2011 by Niki Browning

First Edition November 2011

ISBN-13: 978-1-60659-643-2

Published by:

Phaze Books

An imprint of Mundania Press LLC

6457 Glenway Ave., #109

Cincinnati, OH 45211

All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher, Mundania Press LLC, 6457 Glenway Avenue, #109, Cincinnati, Ohio 45211, [email protected].

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

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Eye contact.

Though still morning, Tom passed my office for the third time, glimpsing through the slats of the white blinds as casually as he could manage. This time, I caught his glance. It warmed me like a ray of light.

Often, I can tell he’s there without looking up. His presence alone charges the atmosphere, though I hardly know him. He just does something to me.

My office was, effectively, the foyer of my boss’s, Nicholas. A barrier he needed to cross to see his fellow director, which he finally did after his aimless stroll.

Tom silently passed me and I, in turn, offered no greeting. With hard fought restraint, I merely flick my gaze upward before looking back at my computer screen, seeing nothing as my fingers fly across the keyboard.

I savor his trailing scent before it dissipates, leaving me a teasing hint of him occupying the same space as me. Our connection was a strange one, possibly because in his two months at the company, we’d never been formally introduced. Neither of us took the initiative but regarded each other with civil silence. For a middle-class, white man in authority, he was unusually timid.

I was free to admire the way his square shoulders tapered to a lean frame, wrapped in a well-fitting black suit. I yearned to mess up his dapper look.His dark hair perfectly suited his light tan, and I wanted to run my fingers through it. I wanted to grip the strands between my digits. To search his brown eyes, which I only ever got to see from afar.

The mere sight of him could snatch away my self-control, leading me to absentmindedly tease my black curls as I speculated on how his passion manifested. I liked to think that he was submissive—at least he would be with me. With the strength of my will and the power of my figure, his body and mind would yield to my desire.

I was careful to hide my status as a Dominatrix—Lady Isis—but I felt it worth revealing for him. I wanted to reveal my secret to test Tom’s cool demeanor, see if he could be flustered from knowing the truth. I wanted to leave my mark on him, make him compare every other woman to me and be unable to find one better.

Picturing my lips against his, I could see his face cradled in my hands as passion took over and made my kiss demanding.

A faint sound drew my attention to my boss’s door, but the expanse of wood revealed nothing and silence resumed.

I craved his voice, dissatisfied with brief snippets of overheard conversations. However, the wood and glass proved an effective soundproof barrier, forcing me to return to my imagination, my fingers unconsciously stroking my lips as I heard his voice in my head.

Imagining peeling off the armor of his tailor-made suit, a trickle of warm moisture caressed my walls and dampened my knickers. Squeezing my thighs together and sitting up straighter, I furtively glanced around.

The printer beeped and clicked ominously, but received none of my attention. How could I worry about that when I was trying to figure out how Tom had this powerful hold over me?

Men like him were my bread and butter, usually forgotten the moment they left my presence. Tom, however, was different. It was more than physical. I want to own and control his body. Be the object of his desire.

The only woman who can give him what he wants and needs.

Few men got the honor of tasting my body—in any sense—but I wanted Tom to be one of the chosen.

Though my temperature climbed gradually, suddenly it’s like I’m next to a furnace. Picking up my empty plastic cup, I abandon my desk for the cooler down the hall, wondering how he’d managed an unknown feat in such a short time.

I immediately drained the cup after filling it, but find it failed to help at all. My body heat continued to taunt, reminding me of my need for a man’s touch—for
his
touch. Refilling the cup again, I did the same with another before leaving the kitchenette for my desk. I walked the route so often that I almost did it blindly, not seeing Tom until we almost collided in the doorway, startling me into an undignified gasp.

“Oh, excuse me. Sorry.” His velvet voice proved to be an arousing comfort, encouraging me to grab him had I not been carrying two cups of water.“My fault.” Sidling past, my gaze drifted from his dark eyes to his crotch as the warm scent of his body surrounded me, immediately calming my shock.

Even with my back to him as I walked away, I knew he watched me.

I felt his stare like a burn on my skin. The accidental encounter left me elated, as would any chance to get up close and personal with him. In the meantime, I had to be satisfied with the power of my imagination while sipping my water.

“Mariella?”

Materializing next to my desk, Nicholas snapped me out of my reverie.

“You’re in your own world,” he smiled, a touch bemused. “Everything all right?”

“Sorry,” I replied, shaking my head. “Everything’s fine.”

“Good. Tom and I are lunching. I’m expecting a couple of calls.”

“No problem.” My casual response hid the jealousy needling me, knowing they would drink, which would lower Tom’s inhibitions. I could only imagine his personality when his defenses were down, true feelings and desires on display.

Predicting another sly viewing opportunity, I was on tenterhooks until lunchtime, counting on them meeting in the office rather than the foyer.

Something about the way he’d looked at me made me sure I had a greater affect than he revealed.

As expected, Tom arrived at the allotted time, glancing through the blinds before concealing himself from my view with the doorjamb. I could have called out to acknowledge him—on behalf of my boss—but I maintained the pretence, saying nothing until Nicholas emerged and confirmed his departure.

“Okay, see you later.” My focus remained trained on the doorway.

I caught Tom’s lingering look, unmistakable despite a disguise attempted by an averted gaze. Not quick enough. I saw it and recognized he was either too shy or cautious to make a move.

Nothing would change if I left it to him.

Holding my breath as I imagined his thoughts, a deep exhale came with a pounding heart as I felt his touch. Simply dreaming about his caress had a powerful effect, making the contact real. The visceral sensation made my gaze drift down to my black pencil skirt, which felt like it had ridden up to leave me exposed to anyone who entered my vestibule.

My mind played tricks as my skirt was where it should be, hugging the curves of my hips and lying against my thighs. Though satisfied, I still lifted my bum enough to smooth my hands down its length.

The tight-fitting garment was a favored staple of my wardrobe, perfectly suited to show off the lower half of my hourglass figure. A beautifully round behind like mine deserved to be displayed at its best, not least when I knew it regularly attracted admiring glances. In fact, I was guilty of the same as I wasn’t shy about studying the reflection of my naked form after a shower.

While stroking lotion onto my soft, soap-scented skin, I would check the curve of my cheeks as if my eyes belonged to those of an appreciative outside party. The way my generous hips tapered down to my thighs, I could tell why so many artists found inspiration in the female figure.

The movement of my hands stirred up the air, allaying misplaced concern because of my rather secluded position and causing the lingering scent of my vanilla lotion to rise to my nose. My location made a number of possibilities run through my mind. Tom could go unnoticed secreted beneath my desk, finding my skirt raised in preparation for him to nestle between my thighs. His imaginary version was bolder than his real life counterpart, wasting no time in seeking access to the core of my bliss.

Fingers crooked, he would pull aside the fabric barrier protecting the cleft between my thighs. I’d feel the heat of his cheek against my skin, his breath warming my wet slit with each heavy exhale and making me shiver.

I wanted him so desperately I could smell my own scent, my lace thong becoming damp with my juices. The material clung to my smooth labia, stimulating my engorged bud, tingling with nerves from a touch of friction. It begged for more, needing the firm stroke of a greedy tongue or the bulbous head of a stiff cock. However, satisfying that particular desire was impossible while I was at work.