Tough Sell

by Trixie More

  Shit! She’d forgotten the hickey when she was getting dressed. And she had her hair in a bun. Was she really that dumb? She looked up from her phone and surreptitiously glanced around. A Hispanic guy, about nineteen years old, was smirking at her. She put her hand to her neck and he actually laughed. Ripping her hair out of the bun took about ten seconds.

  By the time she arrived at Ed’s building she was a wreck. The ancient elevator did nothing to calm her nerves; it was as slow as molasses.. He couldn’t have met her in the lobby?

  She found his apartment and knocked. From behind the black glossy door, she could hear men’s voices. Did he have a roommate? Somehow, she hadn’t pictured that. She hadn’t bothered to picture, or ask, much about his life. Did he have a girlfriend? Oh Lord, she hated that idea. Please let that not be true and please let that be the TV she heard.

  The door swung open suddenly and he was there. Handsome, sexy man that he was, with his wavy chestnut hair that she knew firsthand was soft and silky, his firm wide lower lip and a day’s stubble. His hair was damp and he had on loose flannel drawstring pants and no shirt. And Lord above, was she in deep because she couldn’t tear her gaze from his muscular chest, almost smooth but with a light smattering of hair on his pectorals. He was fan-fucking-tastic. Humiliation and rejection be damned. She wanted to wrap herself around this man. Sadly, he didn’t want her. No sir-ee. And he was a client, so she tore her eyes away from his glorious nude chest and looked him in the eye.

  Dog. His eyes were crinkling at the corners. Was he smirking at her?

  “Hi,” she said.

  “Hi, Dorothy,” he said stepping back and holding the door wide. “Come on in.”

  “I’ll wait out here,” she said and was surprised to see sadness in his gaze.

  “Please, don’t be like that. Come on in. I have someone I want you to meet.”

  Oh no. Please don’t tell me he’s gay. Please don’t tell me he’s living with someone. Please let me drop through the floor.

  “OK.” She followed him inside, which really only took about three steps to accomplish. Inside, the place was bright and comfortable. Sort of like tropical Indiana Jones, if that was a style. Framed prints of jungles, ice caps, exotic animals and birds brightened the white walls. The sofa looked like twenty-year-old leather, straight from a ranch in Texas, and the coffee table was an antique travel truck, held closed by leather straps. To the left, near the front window, was an enormous desk. On that desk was a computer with a live feed of a Nordic god speaking to her from Lord knew where.

  “Good Morning! So happy to meet you, Dorothy,” the god said. His white teeth flashed, and his pale hair shone like gold. “I’m Gunnar, Ed’s business partner. I’m delighted you’ve decided to help us.” He grinned widely at her, a dimple dug deep into his right cheek, blue eyes sparkling.

  “Good morning … or is it night where you are?” She spoke across the room to the floating head.

  As she passed Edward, he lightly grabbed her upper arm and whispered in her ear, “Pretend I told you about him, please.”

  Out of sorts didn’t begin to explain how Dorothy felt and she had no idea what made her do it, but the next thing she said was “Gunnar, I’m so surprised to meet you. Ed never mentioned he had a business partner.” Behind her she heard a smacking sound, and from the corner of her eye, she saw Ed dragging his hand down his face dramatically.

  “What did I just ask you not to do?”

  To her surprise, Gunnar laughed deeply. “Well then, that’s an amazing thing for sure. This guy has some nerve.” He was still smiling, so she guessed there was no real problem.

  She turned to Ed and now from a slight distance, seeing him in the sunlight, his legs spread wide, the loose pants hanging from his hips, his mouth smiling broadly, she was struck again by just how attracted she was to this man. If the video session weren’t going there was a very real likelihood she’d be on her knees in front of him again, begging him to lay that beautiful cock on her tongue so she could worship it. She must be mad.

  “Um, I have to get to work,” she stammered. “Do you have the adapters please?”

  Ed’s head tipped to the side, a warm smile on his lips still. His eyes flicked to where Gunnar looked on behind them. “Sure, come on back here.” He held a hand out to her and she hesitated, but it seemed rude to refuse it in front of his partner. She laid her hand in his and felt his warm fingers close around hers. He turned and pulled her toward the rear of the apartment. The hall smelled of coffee and the man in front of her smelled like soap. On the right was his bedroom, she could see the unmade bed through the open door. On the left was a room that appeared to be a combination weight room and closet. On a shelf sat five white boxes.

  “Do you have a bag?”

  She held up her carryall and noticed his gaze fall to her sneakers. When he looked up again, his gaze was hot. “Are you going barefoot at work today?”

  Combustion. That’s all she could think. The guy looked at her and she combusted, imagining what he would make of her wearing no shoes.

  He laughed, the rat.

  “Are your work shoes in this bag then?” He gently pried it from her hands and opened it, glancing inside at where her plain, practical black pumps nestled. He added the boxes to her bag and handed it back to her. She swallowed, actually swallowed for heaven’s sake, and put the bag back over her shoulder.

  “You’re blushing,” he whispered. “Why is that?” He walked toward her and she backed up, one step, two steps and then flattened against the hallway wall. He followed and bracketed her with his forearms flat to the wall, hips pressing into her as his mouth settled over hers. He kissed her, ate at her, moved his lips over hers and pressed his tongue into her mouth with such ferocity, she thought she might stop breathing. Then he moved to her ear and whispered, “I’m sorry, Dorothy, I’m so sorry for hurting your feelings. I’m sorry, sorry.” He kissed her neck and pressed open kisses to her check and back to her mouth. “I’m sorry.”

  She put her arms around his neck and held on until a gentle cough caught her attention. Together they looked to the side and saw Gunnar give a little wave of his fingers and say, “I’ll just sign off then.” The screen went black.

  She looked at him. “Did you do that on purpose?”

  “I honestly don’t know,” he said and then he was on her, pulling her to him, lifting her against the wall and rubbing his ever ready cock into her clit and nothing mattered to her anymore. Except, something did matter.

  “Hey, hey.” She pulled back from him. “Hey, what happened last night? What about you? Will this thing between us just be me or do you get something from it?”

  He leaned his forehead against the wall, his knee was still thrust between her legs and she started to feel a little silly, kinda hanging there, her crotch wedged against his thigh. She wiggled and he pulled back.

  “Something happened to me a long time ago,” he said. “I’m absolutely wild for you, you have to believe that. I’ve never done these crazy things with anyone before. And last night, that was so wrong of me, I’m so sorry.”

  “Sorry for what exactly?” She hoped he wasn’t sorry for the whole thing because quite frankly, her bra reminded her of their kinky sex every time she moved her arms and it would be pathetic if he regretted that.

  His eyes widened. “No, no, not sorry for it all. Just the last few minutes in the kitchen. The rest, the rest …” He wet his lip and took a deep breath. “The rest was hot as fuck. You are hot as fuck.”

  She couldn’t hold his gaze, she was so relieved and frankly it was a little embarrassing to want his approval so badly.

  “Look, it’s hard for me to accept physical contact from other people. It’s hard for me to let anyone touch me, well, that way.”

  She thought about this. “Was that why you told me to, told me to …”

  “Why I asked you to touch yourself?” He looked her in the eye, a subtle smile played over his lips. His eyelids drooped a little and he look
ed down at her chest. “Yes and no. Yes, I wanted to give you something to do with those busy fingers of yours and no, because well, that was just sexy beyond anything, watching your pretty little fingers pinch and tug on those buttons of yours …” He hooked a finger in the V of her blouse and looked into her eyes. Apparently, there was no doubt she’d let him do anything because he pulled out her neck line and copped a peak at her cleavage. “Hmmm, black. Black shoes too. Did you think of me when you were dressing?”

  What could she say? “I was mad at you. I didn’t want to dress for you,” she said, lifting her chin a little. His fingers played over her breasts and she gasped as he rubbed the sensitive tips.

  “Interesting, and yet here you are.” He released her breasts and kissed her. “So, tell me, are they?”

  “Are they what?”

  “Sore, sweetheart. Are those pretty tits a little sore? Do you think of me when you feel that soreness?”

  Oh God. Her face was on fire. She couldn’t meet his eyes. Why did this turn her on so madly? Her pussy was throbbing now and her underwear had to be sopping. “If you don’t stop this, Ed, I’m going to have a wet spot on my slacks.”

  It was his turn to suck in a breath. His pupils dilated and he grabbed her hand and rammed it against his crotch. “Rub it, Dorothy. Now.” She grasped his cock, he was obviously commando under those flannels, and stroked upward. He leaned back against the other wall, drawing her forward with him. His head rolled against the plaster and his hips thrust forward into her hand. She didn’t try to pull down the pants, she didn’t try to do anything other than jack him off through the flannel, one hand sliding up and down and the other gently squeezing his balls. His cock was thick and hard and his fingers dug into her waist as he held her to him, her hand trapped between them. Soon he was thrusting upward, using the friction of her hand and her hip to rub himself, until he shuddered against her and she felt the hot wetness seep through his pants.

  She just had time to see a dark flush across his high cheek bones, before he crushed her against him and assaulted her mouth. “You are so good, so sweet, beautiful Dorothy,” he murmured words of praise until they were both breathing normally again, then he excused himself and disappeared, only to pop out of his bedroom in clean pants.

  “I’m fucked-up, I know that, Dorothy” he said. “I’m fucked-up and I need you desperately to help my company and if I was smart, I would keep my hands off of you and let you focus on the campaign, but that’s a problem for me.” He started kissing her again.

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t want to be smart with you,” he said into her ear before sliding that hot silk mouth of his down to her neck.

  “Ed.” She shuddered. The guy had a hot line to her hooha. “I have to get to work.”

  He picked up her carryall and tucked it onto her shoulder. “I want to make love to you instead,” he whispered in her ear. He pushed his hand between her legs and rubbed as she moaned. “Beautiful,” he breathed. He brushed a knuckle across the tips of her breasts and she gasped.

  “Don’t forget to think of me today,” he murmured into her ear. He bit down on her earlobe as he pinched her nipple. She squeaked. “Hush,” he said, then he opened the door, tucked her hand into his and walked her downstairs, putting her gently into a cab. “Stop by on the way home and I’ll make it all better for you.” Then he paid the cabbie up front and shut her door.

  Of course, she wasn’t early anymore but how much could it matter? They were going to fire her on Monday anyway, right? She trundled to her desk and changed her shoes, thinking of Ed, of the way he worked her up and left her smoldering in the cab. Cruel rat. And she thought about him saying he needed her, needed her campaign. She settled in to work on the posters for the presentation, mocking up where she wanted each piece, getting ready to go try to take some photos of the adapters. She took a camera from her drawer, the heavy equipment pulling on the strap that hung around her neck. As she walked to the elevator, the camera strap dragged across her breasts and her nipples felt positively electric. She was so aware of them, aware of their soreness, aware of the feel of the camera against them that she wondered if everyone in the elevator could tell.

  In the photo lab, she unpacked the adapters and set them up in front of the green screen and took dozens of photos. She rode back to her floor and when she got back to her desk, she stuffed her pride into a dark hole and called Kathy.

  “Hi, Kathy, it’s Dottie. I’m trying to use some green screen photos but I’m not sure how to replace the background with other stuff. Do you think you could stop down and show me how to do it?

  “Dottie, I’m really busy … did you read the instructions?”

  “I, um, I’m not sure where to find them and I only have a couple of days. You know, if I don’t finish this by Monday, I’m probably going to lose my job. Kathy, I really need your help, can’t you just come down and show me once? Or maybe I can just run up by you? Chances are this is the last time I’ll ever ask you for anything, I mean what are the chances I’ll still have my job on Monday evening?”

  She heard Kathy sigh. “Just come up and I’ll show you, but hurry. I have to be in Peter’s office in fifteen minutes.”

  It took Dorothy seven minutes to get to Kathy’s desk. As she hurried up to her mentor, Dorothy could tell that Kathy was nervous. She had a notebook and pen, stacked on her laptop, all ready to carry into her meeting.

  Adam’s words rang in her head. You’re too much work. I can’t have a first-rate employee running errands for you.

  Dorothy shook her head. She wasn’t going to do this. She was smarter than this.

  “You’re ready for your meeting,” she said. “There’s not enough time for this. I’m sorry to have bothered you, Kathy.”

  Surprise and relief flashed through the other woman’s eyes. She picked up her laptop and held it to her chest.

  “I’m sure I can find it out from the instructions,” Dorothy said.

  “Great. Great,” Kathy said. “That’s great.” The relief on Kathy’s face amazed Dorothy. Was this what she’d been doing? Causing that much stress?

  “I’ll email you when I get out to see how you’re doing,” Kathy continued. And then she smiled. The first one she’d given Dorothy in weeks, Dorothy realized. Dorothy smiled back and turned to head back downstairs. As she headed away, she heard Peter Brookings call out to Kathy, his voice raised.

  “… Late again for her …” and then a door shut. Dorothy winced. She had made the right decision but something told her it would have been a lot wiser if she’d made it on her own floor.

  Peter turned and stalked into his office. He could feel Kathy following him. He always knew exactly where she was. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched her come into his office like she usually did, head down, moving quickly, pulling the door quietly closed behind her.

  “We don’t have time for you to be fussing around with that assistant, Kathy. I expect better of you than this.” She worked far too hard as it was. He loved and hated that.

  Peter sat heavily behind his desk. She sat at the little work table and opened her laptop.

  “The speech is this weekend, what could that woman be working on that’s so important?” he asked. He didn’t intend to harp on it but there was something about Kathy that made him feel, well, prickly sometimes.

  Kathy cleared her throat. “Dottie is working on the Walker and Birkeland account today.”

  “Really.” Peter looked up from his monitor at her. He kept his blinds partly closed, allowing only a little light in. His desk had a lip along the side that faced his guests, serving to keep the stacks of folders and papers from sliding off. He also kept his computer and three monitors on his desk. Normally, he liked the dim, almost cave like atmosphere, but right now, he wanted to see Kathy better. He stood and opened the blinds.

  “Really. She was shooting pictures for the brochure designs she came up with.” Kathy paused. “They have a small device to sweep carbon from autom
obile emissions.”

  “Not possible,” Peter said. “What would they do with nineteen pounds of CO2? Where might that go?” He shook his head. “And if they strip out the oxygen and retain only carbon, that is still a lot of residue, the device would have to be huge.”

  “She says it fits in a man’s palm.”

  Peter snorted. “What’s it do then? Spray black carbon out of the tailpipe?” He looked up to see Kathy staring at him, she glanced away quickly. “It’s not that algae thing, is it?” He turned back to his monitor. “I lost track of that one.”

  “I couldn’t say how it works. I just know that is what she’s working on. And to be fair, I didn’t assist her today. She asked me and then changed her mind when she saw how busy I was.”

  He just grunted. He wasn’t going to commit to letting the kid of the hook. “Let’s get to work. Give me what you have for this weekend’s environmental summit conference. I think you have three different companies’ booths you’re working on, right?”

  Kathy nodded, looking relieved. An hour later and he couldn’t think of anything else they needed to do. Reluctantly, he asked her if there was anything else.

  “I can’t think of anything, Peter,” she replied. She looked at him expectantly. What it was she was expecting from him, that was anyone’s guess. It was certain he didn’t know what to do with her. She was an employee.

  “OK then, you’ve got the rest of the meeting time back.”

  Peter watched Kathy pick up her notes and her computer and quietly exit his office. The woman was a godsend really. He couldn’t do half of what he needed to without her. He couldn’t risk losing her in any way.

  So he told himself that he felt irritated because that Dottie person kept taking up Kathy’s time, and for her to be working on the Walker and Birkeland thing? That really was the last straw.

  Peter picked up his phone and dialed Adam.

  “Yeah, Pete. What’s up?”

  “Adam, I just caught that assistant bothering Kathy again.”