Tempt Me

by S. E. Lund

  STEPH: Nothing yet?

  ELLA: No, thank God.

  STEPH: Strange. I would have thought he'd make a point of dropping by to let you know he'd read your story.

  ELLA: Believe me, I am just as happy that he hasn't. I don't need any drama.

  STEPH: You wait and see. I know I'm right about this. He'll say or do something to acknowledge it.

  ELLA: I just want it all to go away.

  STEPH: Text me as soon as he does something. This time tomorrow, I'll bet he's asked you out for dinner or drinks. Maybe you'll be boinking him in the executive bathroom after he confronts you with the story.

  ELLA: I don't want to boink him in the executive bathroom!

  STEPH: Where do you want to boink him?

  ELLA: In my story, we were at the Ritz-Carlton. The room had a view of Central Park.

  STEPH: Maybe you'll boink him there. It's possible. Wherever he wants to boink you, take it!

  ELLA: You are so bad...

  STEPH: You love me.

  ELLA: You know it.

  I woke up the next morning, a sense of dread filling me at having to face Josh at work the next day. I had to return his cell, and would see if there was any way to do so when he wasn't there. Maybe I could leave the cell at the front desk to give to Josh when he arrived for the day.

  That was my plan, at least.

  I went through my usual routine and made it to the office in record time. I was even able to stop and pick up my coffee, having time to spare. Once I was there, I entered the building, showed my ID and dropped the cell off with the security guard on the front desk, asking if he could return it to Josh when he came to the desk to sign in.

  "If you want, I can have it delivered to his office," the guard said. "We take the packages that arrive up each day and I could do it then."

  "Thanks," I said and reached into my bag to remove five-dollar bill. "Let me give you something for your troubles."

  The guard waved it away "No charge," he said. "Next time you're out, bring me a coffee with two sugar and say we're square."

  "Oh, thank you," I gushed. "You're so sweet."

  "That's what my wife says," he replied with a grin.

  I left the front desk and I took the elevator up to my office, wondering about Josh and what he really thought about my story. I liked it. It was a fantasy of mine -- meeting a strange but gorgeous man for hot sex in the middle of the day at a ritzy hotel. No words spoken -- just enter the room, and go at it. Of course, the man would be totally alpha, a hunk, and know precisely what to do to make my heart beat faster, my body respond and my orgasm -- or three -- be mind-blowing.

  My body warmed to the thought of Josh waiting at a hotel room for me and I had to take in a deep breath and try to shove the thoughts out of my mind.

  When the elevator arrived, I was almost ready for my day. I stopped to say hello to Sharon on my way inside.

  "How are you doing?" she asked, glancing up from a pile of files on her desk. "Everything okay on the financial front?"

  "Yes," I said and nodded. "I picked up my keys on Monday. My old place was so small so my new place feels like a mansion by comparison. It's be nice to have my own bathroom and a real kitchen."

  "Good, good," she said. "There's a new box of manuscripts in your office."

  Before I could respond, her phone rang, so she gave me a smile and mouthed I have to take this, so I left her to her phone call, walking down the hallway, feeling eager to get started.

  I went into my office and plopped myself down behind my desk, tucking my bag into the bottom drawer and placing my coffee cup on the desktop beside my laptop.

  It was then that I saw the small black plastic hotel room keycard. It was unmistakable.

  A hotel room key to the Ritz-Carlton New York - Central Park. 50 Central Park West.

  Adrenaline coursed through me and I had to actually catch my breath. I picked up the keycard and turned it over. Inside was the room number. I googled the room number and saw it was a room on the 9th floor overlooking Central Park. There was a small yellow sticky on the back of the envelope holding the keycard.

  It read three thirty that afternoon.

  Oh, my God...

  Of course, the first thing I did was text Steph.

  ELLA: OMG he left a key card to the Ritz-Carlton Central Park on my desk. I'm supposed to meet him at three thirty today...

  STEPH: Told ya! You go, girl! That story must have really impressed him.

  ELLA: I don't know what to do.

  STEPH: What? ARE YOU CRAZY? Go! Enjoy. You deserve it.

  ELLA: I've told you how I feel about office romances.

  STEPH: Pffft. That was then. This is now. This is your fantasy, kiddo. He wants to fulfil your fantasy. How could you turn that down? Go and get some for all us single ladies.

  ELLA: What he must think of me...

  STEPH: He probably can't stop thinking of you and had to jerk off several times after he read your story.

  ELLA: You have such a filthy imagination.

  STEPH: No, I have three brothers and lived with a guy for three months once.

  STEPH: DO IT! You know you want to...

  STEPH: Write me back with all the deets when you're able.

  ELLA: Okay. If I go. And I'm not 100 percent sure that I will.

  STEPH: You'll regret it the rest of your life if you don't. GO.

  ELLA: Later. XOXOX

  STEPH: XOXOXOMG

  I smiled and leaned back, a most definite ache in my core at the thought that Josh would be waiting for me at the hotel room.

  He must have really liked my story...

  Chapter Eighteen

  Joshua

  I wasn't going to accept no for an answer.

  I wouldn't be a dick about it, but I wouldn't just give up. I'd keep running into her, accidentally on purpose, and I'd be as charming and as gallant as I could possibly muster. I enjoyed her too much to give up without a fight. We had definite chemistry. Our brief interlude at the apartment was testament to that fact. We were both recovering from a bad relationship and needed each other as solace. That was how I saw it, anyway. Now I just had to find a way to convince her to my way of thinking.

  The whole boss-employee thing was an inconvenience, but I was totally a hand's-off kind of boss so it wasn't like we'd be working together on a regular basis. In fact, I had very little to do with the book publishing arm, and focus my efforts on Macintyre Broadcasting Corporation and its print news division.

  My cell rang and I checked the caller ID. It was Marcella. No doubt with my first 'date', but in truth, I was in no mood to meet one of her carefully-selected candidates for the position of my life partner.

  I was too focused on convincing Ella that she really did want to boink me, as she called it.

  "Hello, Marcella. How are you?"

  "I'm fine. I have a few candidates for you to review. Can I drop off their CVs and photos? I also have a couple of videos you might like to watch. We can discuss setting up some meetings, too."

  "Already?" I said, surprised she had found candidates so quickly.

  "You said you wanted to move fast, so I pulled in all my markers. I think several of the first crop of ladies are quite prime real estate."

  "Oh, yes?" I said, imagining a group of haughty debutante types with moneyed families and dreams of marrying a richer man than they were. "Come on up. I don't have much time but I can squeeze you in right after my nine-thirty meeting. Say, ten o'clock?"

  "I'll be there."

  I ended the call and leaned back, not really wanting to face the whole ‘finding a wife’ project just yet, but I had agreed that Marcella should do her magic and so I had to follow through.

  What I really wanted was to go out with Ella and finish what we started. I didn't get the chance to really lick her tattoo the way I had wanted as soon as I learned of its existence. It had driven me crazy since she told me about it and I saw her breasts so up close and personal without being able to really enjoy t
hem.

  Before Marcella arrived, I had a meeting with one of the guys in finance about the cost of renovations, and luckily, we were done early. I decided to pop down to Ella's office and see if she'd give in and meet me for lunch. The receptionist was gone from her desk, so I went to Ella's office and popped my head inside. The room was empty, and so I thought I'd leave her a sticky note, asking her to give me another chance and meet for lunch.

  I went to her desk and searched around for a pencil and sticky notes, but couldn't find anything. Then I remembered our lack of supplies because of the renovations and new offices. Of course, she probably was using her notebook. The Iron Man notebook that I wanted for myself.

  I smiled and opened a drawer but found nothing I could use to write a note. There was one file folder on her desk -- a red file folder -- so I opened it up to see if there was any spare paper, but it was some hand-written notes torn out of a spiral notebook -- most likely the Iron Man notebook she was forced to use.

  Only, they weren't coverage notes, but were instead pages of a short erotic story.

  Holy hell...

  A very hot short erotic story...

  I picked up the file and paged through it, and immediately, I realized that the story was written about me. Billionaire (wrong -- not quite) newspaper mogul, tall, built, light brown hair and blue-gray eyes, well-trimmed beard. She meets him at the Ritz-Carlton for hot sex. No words are spoken. Just fucking and lots of orgasms. Then, they kiss and go their separate ways. No strings.

  While I was getting hot under the collar reading the story, I heard the receptionist, return to the office, her laugher audible from the hallway. I closed the file and tucked it under my arm, then made my way out of Ella's office. I had to read the entire story.

  I had to.

  "Hello, Mr. Macintyre," she said when she saw me. "How are you today?"

  "I'm very well, thank you," I said. "Just looking for Ella Carlson."

  "She's in a meeting with Sharon, but she should be done by eleven if you want me to have her call you."

  "Thanks, that's okay. I'll call her."

  I smiled and left the office, the very hot erotic short story tucked under my arm possessively.

  Needless to say, I spent some time in my private washroom, taking care of business before my next meeting...

  Later, Kevin dropped into my office, while I was busy re-reading Ella's story.

  "Hey, what's up?" he asked, and sat at the chair across from my desk. "I haven't heard from you all day."

  "I'm busy," I said and closed the file.

  "Too busy for your best friend?" he asked, grinning because he knew he could always pop into my office and as long as I wasn't on the phone or in a meeting, I'd make time for him.

  "Never too busy for you," I said and pushed the file off to the side of my desk. The last thing I'd want was for him to read Ella's story. No way. That was for me to savor.

  "What you got there?" he said, pointing to the file. "A new hire? New business proposal?"

  "No, just some notes I made at a meeting. What's up with you?" I asked, hoping to divert his attention from the file.

  We talked about his latest project and then he admonished me for not going out with him for a long time and I promised we'd go out one night soon.

  Then, he left me alone with the file.

  I had to open it once more and read the story again.

  The man in the grey flannel suit was not my Mr. Big but he was a pretty damn good substitute...

  Before I could get more than a paragraph in, Marcella showed up and I had to close the story once more and try to ignore the ache in my groin.

  "Here you are, Joshua," she said and placed five files on my desk. I moved the red file into my briefcase, and then instead of taking matters into my own hand as I had planned, I tried to turn my attention back to the matter at hand. Finding a suitable wife and mother of my future children.

  It was not at all what I wanted to focus on at that moment.

  "What have you got for me, Marcella?" I asked, trying to be positive, considering I was paying her handsomely to headhunt a wife for me. "Someone good, I hope."

  "Some very good candidates. Any man would be very lucky to have such women as their wife. First up, is Dana Rae-McPherson, daughter of John McPherson and Lisa Rae, who you will remember is the heir to the Rae fortune in shipping. She's twenty-eight, has a BA from Brown in Communications, and currently runs her own media company with fifteen staff. She's also very attractive, as you can see from the photo."

  I opened the file and examined the image. Yes, I'd seen Dana before, having met her at a charity function with my father, but I had never even thought twice about her. She was quite brash, with a big personality and a cutting wit. She took over any room she entered and you could almost feel her assessing everyone in the room as to whether they would benefit her or not.

  She was not my type, although she certainly ticked all my boxes.

  Except the chemistry box.

  I'd never even considered her as a sex partner, let alone a life partner.

  "Sorry," I said and closed the file, handing it back to Marcella. "I already know her and am not interested."

  Marcella took the file back and appeared a bit taken aback by my fast refusal.

  "May I ask why?"

  "No chemistry. When we first met, she rubbed me the wrong way and having met her several times, my opinion hasn't changed."

  "Can I ask what it is about her that you don't like?"

  I shrugged. "She's not nice."

  "Not nice?" Marcella frowned. "What do you mean, not nice?"

  "I mean, she's not a nice person. She's cold and calculating. Like she's always sizing everyone up. Judging. And she isn't warm at all."

  Marcella nodded. "I understand. That's good to know. You want warmth of personality. Someone who is nice." She sifted through the files and handed me another one.

  I opened it and saw the picture.

  The woman was attractive, with fair hair and skin and blue eyes.

  "This is Theresa Rutherford. Daughter of Pat and Elaine Rutherford, of Baylor Industries. She has a BA in Music and is a flute instructor as well as a performer in a small quartet. She is a volunteer on the Humane Society International board of directors and does a lot of charity work in addition to her teaching. She's thirty and loves to travel."

  I read over her resume but she seemed bloodless. Pleasant but not someone I felt I wanted to get to know better. In fact, I had the sense she'd be boring. She had no spice to her. Flute? She was a flautist. She taught the flute and gave money for animal welfare. I could have yawned as I read her resume.

  "A little too nice, maybe."

  Marcella raised her eyebrows but sorted through her files and handed me another.

  "Alicia Barnes, daughter of Jack and Nancy Barnes, on the Fortune 500. Bachelor of Commerce, has her own fashion line. Attractive and smart."

  I took the file and flipped through the pages. She was attractive, but fashion wasn't something I was interested in. Frankly, I found it frivolous. A lot of to-do about nothing. Painfully self-absorbed.

  "Not interested."

  Marcella exhaled in frustration. "Take a look at these two. Maybe you can review them all and send me an email when you decide what you really want to see."

  What I really want to see? At that moment, I really wanted to see Ella naked -- that's what I really wanted to see. Naked and on the huge bed in one of the Ritz-Carlton's best suites overlooking Central Park with her legs spread wide, while I pumped hard into her willing body.

  I flipped through the other two files, but neither one caught my fancy.

  "I'm sorry, Marcella. These are all great candidates," I said, realizing I had to keep on her good side. "They just don't do it for me at the moment. You might as well take all the files with you."

  "Fair enough. I can go back to the well and find more suitable candidates."

  "I appreciate all you do for me."

  She ga
thered up her files and left the room, and while she gave me a smile on the way out, I could tell she was frustrated.

  So was I.

  Sexually frustrated and wanting to re-read Ella's story and then make a quick trip to the executive washroom.

  Which I did.

  I can't keep doing this...

  Of course, I could and would. I was a man, after all. What I meant when talking to myself after I zipped up my slacks and washed my hands, was that I had to do something to force the issue with Ella one way or the other so I could move on.

  Until I had her in my bed, or she told me to fuck off forever, I wouldn't be happy. I needed to finish what we started and so as I beat off in total frustration, I had the image of me with her ankles around my neck while I pumped my cock into her wet pussy on a plush king-sized bed at the Ritz-Carlton.

  I needed to see that scene come to fruition, if it was at all possible.

  When I got back to my desk in my office and had a sip of my now-cold coffee, I took in a deep breath and googled the hotel.

  After I checked over the various options, I settled on one of the rooms with a view of Central Park. With a few keystrokes on my keyboard, I reserved a room and all I had to do was pick up the keys and the rest would be history. I reserved it for two full days so I could drop by on my way home and pick up the keys, and then I'd get to work early in the morning, before anyone else was there, and leave the key on Ella's desk.

  If she wanted to come and have the fantasy she wrote about, I'd be there waiting. If she didn't show up, there was always my hand. I'd expended quite an effort on my dick since I met her and I could survive if she rejected my offer.

  But I hoped she'd bite at the chance to live out her fantasy.

  The fact that I starred in her fantasy fuck was threatening to make me hard once more, so I closed her file, shoved it off to the side of my desk, and decided to try to get some work done instead.

  For the rest of the day, I tried to immerse myself in my work and finally, when my day was over at close to seven o'clock at night, I dropped by the Ritz-Carlton and picked up my room keys. I went up to the room to check it out and was happy that I'd gone through with it. I'd order some fresh flowers and some champagne for us, the way the male character in the story had, and tomorrow, I'd be waiting by the window for her to show up.