by Sam Crescent
A Total-E-Bound Publication
www.total-e-bound.com
Office Hours
ISBN # 978-0-85715-576-4
©Copyright Sam Crescent 2011
Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright June 2011
Edited by Rebecca Hill
Total-E-Bound Publishing
This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Total-E-Bound Publishing.
Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Total-E-Bound Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.
The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.
Published in 2011 by Total-E-Bound Publishing, Think Tank, Ruston Way, Lincoln, LN6 7FL, United Kingdom.
Warning: This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has been rated Total-e-burning.
OFFICE HOURS
Sam Crescent
Dedication
I want to dedicate this book to Sid. For always standing by me and never allowing me to give up. You are a fantastic friend. This one is for you.
Trademarks Acknowledgement
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
BlackBerry Company: Research in Motion
Bentley: The Volkswagen Group
Chapter One
“What the hell is this?” Anya King stormed into her boss’s office carrying the offending memo and slammed it with as much force as she could muster onto his desk.
Nathan Banks stopped typing to glance at his personal assistant, then at the memo he’d left on her desk while she went out to lunch. “It’s about a team-building weekend. It’s a new scheme to help colleagues work together better.”
“I can clearly see what it’s about, Mr Banks. What I want to know is why my name is on that list?” Anya placed a hand on her hip. She needed to keep her head, relax and breathe.
“I signed us up for the course as a team.” He pushed the paper away, looking at her with calm composure. Anya felt anything but calm.
“You did this without even consulting me?” She swallowed down her anger, keeping her fiery temper at bay. Work relationships were supposed to be kept professional. It wouldn’t do for her to lose her temper.
“ In case you hadn’t noticed, Miss King, I happen to own this company, what I say goes and if I think this weekend will benefit my company, as my personal assistant you’ll be accompanying me. No questions asked.” He looked pointedly at the memo until she picked it up again.
Anya watched him go back to his computer, his sure, sturdy hands typing purposefully away. Clever hands that could bring a woman all kinds of sexual pleasure, if all of the rumours floating around the office were true. Anya tried not to think about her boss and sex. It was wrong and unprofessional, but sometimes when she was alone images of Nathan crept into her mind, and not all of them in employer-employee situations.
“I have plans this weekend.” She folded her arms underneath her full breasts. She needed this weekend! There was only so long she could resist her natural urges. Face it, she was over-sexed. Images of Nathan fucking her had entered her mind one too many times of late. Time away with another man, or men, should put her system back to rights. Nathan could go back to being just a man she happened to work for.
“Cancel it.” He didn’t even lift his head.
“How am I supposed to cancel at the last minute?” She wasn’t going to give in just like that. He was going to hear her out whether he liked it or not.
But Nathan was just as stubborn as she. “Find a way. It’s not my problem. I’ll see you here tomorrow at nine. Pack for a busy weekend and read the memo, it’ll tell you what you need.” He dismissed her, lifting up his phone to dial an associate.
Anya thought about waiting it out, to see if he really was calling someone and not just doing it to get rid of her. Instead she nodded, simmering to herself, took the memo and quietly left his office, closing the door without making a sound.
Sitting behind her desk, she grabbed her bag, pulling out her ticket and the file about her planned pleasure weekend. Tomorrow she was supposed to be leaving for a small, isolated mansion, where every little lust and desire the body craved could be experienced, along with the promise of total anonymity. The ticket alone would have left most people crying at the cost. She could only just afford it on her salary.
She sighed. It was a good job the ticket could be used on any weekend over the course of a month. But her ticket was for December, one of the busiest times of the year, which meant her time was already in short supply.
Anya usually went for the first weekend of the month, but overtime at work, along with life in general, had got the better of her this month, so she had been planning to spend the second weekend of December at her erotic hideaway. Had been, until her domineering boss had demanded her presence on his stupid team-building weekend. He said, “Jump,” and she had no choice but to say, “How high?” Anya took pride in her work, but sometimes being the best personal assistant was a pain in the arse. The reward for good work was more work. Shaking her head in disappointment, she reflected that at least there were still two weekends left after this work-together-better nonsense or whatever he wanted to call it. She folded up her ticket and placed it carefully back in her bag.
She could survive this weekend, but she would need reinforcements. Sexual reinforcements.
It had been too long. She could feel the ache pulsing through her body. The need to be fucked hard and to be sated by several men, or at least one man, was strong. She could sense the tension close to the surface, a tension that only a weekend of hard sex could relieve. She rubbed her hands down her skirt, feeling the ache a simple touch could evoke, the ache she loved
She smiled, wondering what her very conservative boss would think of his personal assistant having sexy weekends away. Dirty, hot, sweaty, sex-filled weekends. Going by the rumours, this guy was a one-position—the missionary position—kind of guy. To Anya that sounded, plain and simply boring.
Poor Nathan. Sexy as he was, some men had it and some men obviously didn’t.
Anya took another deep breath and began working, trying to immerse herself in paperwork. Business always did have the desired effect. Within minutes, files were being consulted and contacts were being made, sex a distant thought in the back of her mind.
“I’ll see you tomorrow at nine, sir.” Anya popped her head through his office door at seven that evening, when she had completed all of her work and managed to get in some paid overtime as well. She had a bright smile on her face, a contrast to earlier, when her face had conveyed the annoyance she’d felt at the time.
He nodded.
“Where are we going?” Curiosity always did get the better of her.
“Buxton in Derbyshire. A beautiful place.”
“Sounds wonderful. Night night,” she called, moving away.
She just had time to hit the shops for a bit of Christmas shopping.
Special office Secret Santa. Everybody’s names would be put into a basket and, one by one, they’d pick out a name. The idea was to buy a gift for the person whose name you pulled out. And�
�just her luck—she’d managed to pick Nathan. Karma, or what?
She loved her work, she loved the company. It was just the boss. He was a stuck-up workaholic. If he’d only relax a little, he would find a whole new world of possibilities.
Relax a bit. She smiled as she had the perfect present idea.
Chuckling, she walked out onto the busy street. Christmas shoppers were everywhere, looking for bargains, trying to buy those perfect Christmas presents for family and friends. Soon Anya was caught up in the hustle and bustle, immersing herself in the Christmas glow.
“Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.”
Nathan watched Anya disappear into the crowds below his window, relief pulsing through him. He couldn’t lie—he’d been expecting an outburst of some kind. Not asking her permission before booking the damn trip had been a test. He made his way through his office, nodding at his cleaning staff. He passed the lift and went straight for the stairs, running down them at speed to his parked car.
He smiled, beeping open the dark, sleek Bentley—a beaut, one of his finer purchases in life.
Once behind the wheel, he turned the key in the ignition, savouring the power as the engine roared to life. He was all about power, all about dominating in the work place and at home.
Nathan was on the look-out for a truly amazing submissive. A woman who could speak her mind, whom he could go toe-to-toe with in everyday life, but who in the bedroom would be hot, wet, ready and willing, no questions asked. Sheer obedience.
Someone like Anya King, he mused to himself, would surely be too prudish, efficient and business-minded as she was. And too bossy and difficult to let him fuck her body senseless many times a night, any way, anyhow he wanted.
He imagined Anya’s sex life—if she had one, that was—to be boring. She might even still be a virgin. Not something he gave much thought to, if he was truthful. There were many more women out there, and they were always ready to fill his fantasies and his bed.
He thought about what it was like to have a woman begging for him. Well—begging for anyone. The fun was rather spoilt when he realised his partner was begging not for Nathan but for a dominant, any dominant. Asking for nothing but to be taken by whoever was available at the time.
He shook his head. No, he wanted one woman. One woman who would be totally satisfied with him and him alone in the bedroom and in her life. Who would trust him with her body, trust him to guarantee she’d receive the ultimate pleasure if she only submitted to him. His cock ached for her, whoever she might be. His soul yearned. He would find her, of that he was determined. Certain.
He drove through the streets, thankful the holiday season was almost upon them. Having family around was important, and he intended to spend his holiday with his family. Briefly, his curiosity got the better of him and he wondered what his oh-so efficient assistant had planned for the Christmas season. He quickly stemmed the thought. Work stayed at work and sex stayed in the bedroom. No more dirty thoughts about his PA.
An hour later, after hitting some heavy traffic, he parked in the underground parking area available with his flat. He nodded to the doorman and proceeded to the lift that would take him straight up to his penthouse suite. The view overlooking London city was truly spectacular around the festive season.
Nathan poured himself a shot of dark whisky and for several moments took in the sights he paid handsomely for. The liquor burned the back of his throat, the delicious intensity giving him a buzz. He loosened his tie, closing his curtains, shutting out the world. Peace descended on him, quiet and tranquil. Closing his eyes, he rested on the sofa, leaning back, allowing the tight knots to work out of his shoulders and back, the pulsing headache to ease as he relaxed his entire body.
He sighed. Having a woman to work out the kinks in his body would be even better.
He checked the time. Nine-thirty glowed at him from his digital clock. Groaning, he stood up, stretching, and moved to his bedroom where a suitcase lay filled with the weekend’s clothes. Sweaters, light trousers—in case he got wet they would dry quickly in the cold air. He smiled in gratitude, thankful for the laundry service. They would be receiving a healthy Christmas bonus this year.
After a shower he added his toiletries to the bag and zipped it up, leaving it on his chair until the morning.
It was going to be a long weekend.
Anya walked into her office at exactly nine o’clock. She wouldn’t give Nathan the satisfaction of arriving late. No. So she’d made sure she stayed on the staircase outside their floor for the last five minutes, timing it perfectly, keeping her eyes on the clock just above the door so when the hands reached exactly nine o’clock, she could enter.
She felt rather smug.
“On time as usual.” She could hear the mockery in his tone but she refused to bite. She would be utterly professional until five o’clock this afternoon, when she was due to finish work, then Boss Man was in for a surprise—or maybe she would leave it until they left the office, who knew?
“You said nine. I’m here.” She walked straight into his office. Anya wore a pair of black walking trousers and a light T-shirt with two thick, woolly sweaters. She also had with her a waterproof jacket, just in case. She didn’t like the cold. A suitcase hung at her side. “What’re we waiting for?”
He lifted his eyebrow at her attitude. If Anya hadn’t known better, she would have thought he was imagining her without any clothes on. Naked. Smiling, Anya cocked a hip. Stupid, though—he wouldn’t have the first clue what to do with a woman. It was going to be a long weekend.
“We’re waiting for my driver.” He lifted up a mug of coffee and took a long, leisurely sip. Anya took the seat across from him and eased back, waiting.
The silence between them felt surprisingly comfortable. Anya closed her eyes briefly, her thoughts wandering to the possibilities of the weekend ahead.
“What’re you thinking?” Nathan asked, breaking the silence.
Anya opened her eyes, “I was wondering about this weekend. What exactly is this work-together—”
“Team-building weekend,” he corrected. Anya glared at him, not liking his interruption.
“Yes, team-building weekend.” She crossed her leg over her knee. “I have never been on this type of training exercise before, Mr Banks. Could you please explain in little more detail what exactly it is and what we can expect from this weekend?” Genuinely interested, she waited while Nathan rested his coffee cup on his knee before answering.
“On Saturday we’ll be driven ten miles in any direction away from our hotel. We’ll be given a walking bag each, one with a tent, a map and a compass, and the other with food and water.”
“And how long are we expected to take to get back to the hotel?” A tent? She would not be staying outside, no matter where they were. No way.
“Couples have ended up staying out overnight together. I’ve been told it’s very successful and extremely safe. Don’t worry, Miss King, I’ve thought about your safety.”
There was something about what he’d said… Anya’s brain scrambled as she tried to think what it was.
“Couples?”
Nathan Banks blushed. Anya watched his pale features deepen as a red, embarrassed blush worked up his neck, swamping his cheeks, but she couldn’t find the will to laugh or mock. He’d messed up the bookings—served him right for not appreciating his efficient PA more!—and they were going on some harebrained lovers’ retreat.
“You’ve signed us up for some lovers’ retreat in the dead of winter, days before Christmas?”
“I’m sure it will be worthwhile,” he blustered. “It works to bring couples together. There’s no reason that shouldn’t extend to working relationships within the work place.” He scowled, growling at her. “I’m more than capable of organising a business trip.”
Obviously not! “Will there be other couples there?” She checked her watch. Nine-ten. She drummed her fingers on her knee.
“I believe so. Stop fidgeting.” He
gestured to her drumming fingers.
She stopped, instantly laying her hand flat on her knee instead.
“It’s not like your driver to be late,” she pointed out.
The phone rang and Nathan looked relieved. “Yeah, you’re ready—excellent. We’ll be right down.” He placed the receiver back on the cradle, and Anya couldn’t help it.
“Speak of the devil, or is it more like saved by the bell?” she teased, following him out of his office.
She nodded and waved at some colleagues as they passed. Mr Grumpy stared straight ahead, not acknowledging anyone. Maybe this weekend would be a good thing, teach Mr Rude some manners.
She wondered how many nicknames she’d have for Sour Face by Monday morning.
It was their first lift ride together, and she couldn’t help but notice how he dominated the small space, staring at the buttons on the panel as they descended each floor.
“Are you scared of lifts?” she said out of the blue. She suddenly wanted to know more about him. Maybe it was her sex drive kicking in, Nathan being the only available male near her.
“Do I look scared of lifts?” he snapped, his back ramrod straight.
“Touchy today, I see.” She smirked when he tapped the button for the ground floor again.
His shoulders relaxed as the ping of the lift confirmed they had reached the ground floor.
His driver greeted them, a charming smile adorning his handsome features. He took Anya’s suitcase, placing it alongside Nathan’s in the boot of the car.
“Thanks, Paul.” She smiled at him as he opened her door. She sat next to Nathan, her leg brushing against the side of his.
She wouldn’t move her leg. She was having way too much fun tormenting him. He didn’t move his leg, either. Instead he pulled his BlackBerry out of his pocket, and started making a phone call.
