by May, Linnea
“So,” he starts. “What brought you here, Miss Storm?”
I gulp. My counselor, would be the honest answer. But of course I cannot say that. What on earth am I doing here? I know I don’t want this job. I have no idea about PR, I don’t fit in here. And I wouldn’t feel comfortable to work for someone like him anyways.
So, I just say it. “My counselor.”
He laughs. A well controlled chuckle, very professional. Something I have never managed to do. I either don’t react at all or burst out in a childish giggle that is hard to stop once started.
“Your counselor, huh?” he asks. “Could you tell me a little more about that?”
I look at him, absolutely aware that my cheeks must have changed to that treacherous red color I loathed so much. There is no make-up in the world that could hide the blood rushing to my face every time I was embarrassed - or drunk.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “That wasn’t very… erm, I am just a little surprised. I hadn’t realized that you were… you.”
You were… you? Brilliant. I should just excuse myself and leave the room. There is nothing to win in here.
He seems to enjoy my brainless stuttering, though. His smile has widened with every stupid syllable that has left my mouth.
“I am me,” he finally says. “Sorry to surprise you, Miss Storm.”
I frown, unsure what to reply. This is a joke. And why does he keep mentioning my name? It’s like something he has learned in business school. Unnatural. Intimidating.
“The thing is,” I say. “My counselor wants me to go job hunting - so do my parents.”
“Yes?” he asks. “You’re about to be done with your Bachelor’s, right?”
I nod.
“So,” he continues. “Doesn’t it make sense to go look for a job? Isn’t that what people do?”
Again, I nod, but hesitantly this time. “Sure.”
He leans forward, placing his elbows on the desk he looks at me intensively. “But, it’s not what you want?”
I shake my head. “No. I’d like to go to Graduate School. Get my Master’s and maybe even a Doctorate.”
He shrugs. “What’s stopping you?”
I look up and catch his gaze. These weirdly captivating eyes. His expression is stern, but not unfriendly.
“Money,” I say eventually. “My parents can’t afford it - and it doesn’t look like I can get the scholarship I applied for.”
Why am I telling him this? Isn’t this supposed to be a job interview?
“I see,” he says, without taking his eyes off me. “That’s unfortunate.”
Yeah, and something you probably never had to worry about, I think.
“I don’t know if our internship program pays well enough for you to save money for school, though,” he says. “If that’s what you’re planning to do.”
I look down at my hands and study the nervous fiddling of my fingers. “No, that’s okay.”
“So, what do we do now?,” He asks. “I don’t see why I should waste my time with someone who doesn’t want to be here.”
I look up, shaking my head apologetically. “I am sorry! I completely understand.”
Again, I can’t help but glance at the photos behind him. For a moment I wonder, if he might have taken them himself. If he knew his way around Shibari. I shiver at the thought of him handling rope. I bet he knows how to tie the knots just right, not too lose, not like luggage on the roof of a car…
“Do you like them?” he asks, interrupting my stream of thoughts. I jump in surprise and look at him - my cheeks fiery red, my eyes widened in embarrassment.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t…”
“Why do you keep apologizing for yourself?” he asks. “That’s a bad habit you should get rid of.”
“Um… okay.”
“So? Tell me what you think of the pictures?” he repeats his question. “You have obviously noticed them more than once. I would like to hear what you think.”
I nod and have a closer look at the pictures. He is observing me while I do, which does not make it easier for me to give him an answer.
“I like them,” I simply say. “Very artistic and beautiful.”
He smirks. “Yeah? You wouldn’t say inappropriate or perverted?”
I shake my head in protest. “Inappropriate… maybe, considering their placement. But perverted? No way. They’re gorgeous! So well done.”
He silently nods. “I’ve been told to put them away. Several times. Apparently they freak some people out.”
“Shibari is not for everyone.” I whisper.
His eyes flicker. It is as if the dark sports in them start dancing at the sound of the word.
He subtly cocks his head. “Oh, you know Shibari?”
I hastily shake my head and lift my hands, waving in defense. “Me? No, no. I’ve just… heard of it.”
Very true. But that doesn’t change the fact that I’ve always wanted to try. Or to have someone try it on me. Especially someone like him. God, he’s gorgeous.
And the way he looks at me now only makes it worse. His eyes are narrowed to slits, fixating me with intimidating attention.
“Come,” he says and gets up from his chair. “Have a closer look.”
He beckons me to come closer. I hesitate for a moment before I follow his gesture and jump up from my chair, fixing my skirt in the process.
“This,” he says, standing closely in front of the photo in which the woman is suspended. “This is my favorite.”
I stop next to him and investigate the photograph in front of me. Looking at it from this close reveals a range of details I had not noticed before, especially in the woman’s face. One could only see her profile. Her mouth is slightly opened as she lets her head fall back in her neck, her hair falling down in a thick, black curtain. One of her legs is stretched out, while the other is tied up in a bent position.
“Did you take them yourself?” I finally dare to ask.
He hesitates for a moment and shifts his weight from one foot to the other, while clearing his throat t the same time. “Yes, I did.”
I gulp. Wow, so he actually did this himself. At least taking the pictures.
“Did you,” I stutter. “I mean… did you do just take the pictures or did you do the rope as well?”
He smiles. “I tied her up, too.”
“Oh,” I make. I don’t think I would like a picture of me naked to be hanging in his office - but I sure wouldn’t mind getting a little taste of his bondage skills. Even if it is just a tiny bit.
“So,” he repeats. “What do you think?”
“Of the pictures?”
He chuckles and looks at me. “Yes, of course.”
Yes, of course. It’s not like he is asking you if you want to be tied up by his strong, masculine hands. Hanging down from the ceiling while his admiring gaze lies upon you.
“Very sensual,” I comment, followed by an instant blush. Sensual? Was that a word I wanted to use in this man’s presence?
I notice him turning around to me, now observing me instead of the picture. But I don’t dare to return his look. Damn, he smells good, too. He is still looking at me. Why does he do that?
I can literally hear my heartbeat when I finally dare to look back at him. Yup, still gorgeous, still has these mesmerizing green eyes, the irresistible three-day stubble around his strong jawbone. Strong shoulders, decorated with a perfectly fitting jacket. Tiny lines around his eyes reveal his slightly advanced age - at least compared to the boys I have been with. This is certainly not a silly little college boy.
And he looks at me with this eerie intensity. As if he is waiting for a sign. “Sensual, huh.”
I look up to him, with pleading eyes. Come on, make the first move. But he doesn’t. He just continues to look at me, still studying every tiny detail of my face.
Eventually, I nod. “Yes.”
Apparently, that was all he needed to hear.
Four
He grabs me by the s
houlders and pushes me against the wall in front of us, perfectly placed between two of the photos I had just praised.
His lips are on mine within a moment. He pushes my arms up against the wall while his tongue invades my mouth with a force unbeknownst to me. He tastes just as good as he smells - and he’s passionate, demanding. Definitely not scared of hurting me or of being too overwhelming. He wants me just as much as I want him. And he’s not afraid to show it.
He pauses for a moment. I am still pinned between him and the wall, not able to move even if I wanted to. He is firmly pinning my arms against the wall above my head and holding me in place with his hip. I can feel his desire for me, pushing against my belly strong and hard.
“I’m sorry, Miss Storm,” he breathes.
“Stop apologizing for yourself,” I reply. “I’ve been told it’s a bad habit.”
He smirks, spawning a sexy little dimple on his right cheek. And just as I hoped, he pushes himself back on my lips. I eagerly welcome his demanding tongue and arch my back so he can get a taste of my boobs against his chest. I can hide them well, but they are anything but small - and I want him to know it.
Suddenly, he lets go of my hands and grabs me by the hip instead, lifting me up just enough to be able to move me around in a quick turn, placing my butt on his desk while still kissing me. He starts kneading my boobs through the blouse - I welcome it with a grateful moan.
I lift my arms to reach for his belt - but he pushes them down instantly, placing them behind my back.
“Don’t you dare moving those hands,” he breathes as he starts to unbutton my blouse. I look up at him, helplessly opening my mouth as if it could compensate for my immobile hands. Sure, he had not tied me up, I could move them - but I don’t.
My white bra is exposed and he reaches inside, freeing my breasts with a quick move, accompanies by an admiring hum.
“Beautiful,” he whispers, kneading my naked breasts. I arch my back in pleasure and close my eyes as he closes his lips around my left nipple and starts sucking on it. Hard. I flinch at first, but give into the pleasure quickly. He lets go of it and moves over to the other side, sucking and biting my right nipple greedily.
I want to reach forward and touch him, free him of his clothes and get a glimpse of his body. But he forbade me to do so. The urge to touch him in combination with his demanding touch is driving me mad.
His hands wander lower, caressing my legs before he moves them back again to pull up my skirt while his lips are still wrapped around my nipple.
He is fast - and he knows what he is doing. Within a few seconds, he manages to grab my thighs and pull them down with one quick move - along with my thong. I help him by shortly lifting myself up, landing back on the desk with my bare behind.
He pulls my thighs all the way down to my feet and spreads my legs by pushing my knees away from each other.
I blush, unable to look him in the eyes as I sit in front of him, with my legs spread, exposing my center, glistening with wetness.
He removes his hands from my knees and uses one hand to push me back, forcing me to lay down on his desk while his other hand moves between my legs, teasing my wet folds as I close my eyes with shame.
He laughs. “Good girl! What a damn good girl you are, Miss Storm.”
Even if I could come up with anything to reply to that, he leaves me no chance to do so, before he leans forward and his fingers are replaced with his tongue.
I groan with arousal, arching my back while he starts teasing my entrance with his tongue, gently licking along the insides of my folds while I am desperate for him to move closer to the center.
Oh god, I had not realized how desperately hungry I was. How much I needed something like this. And I certainly did not expect to find it here.
I almost cry out with excitement when he finally decides to treat my clit with the attention it needs, sending a wave of intense sensation through my body.
I am so close already. This is insane. What is happening to me?
“No, not.. I-” I pant with desperation. “I’m gonna come!”
“Come!” he orders, only stopping what he is doing for a split second.
He continues to please me, licking my love bud while shoving first one, then two fingers inside of me.
I moan and squirm, unable to control myself as my orgasm claims me with unexpected force. His moans accompany mine as I climax beneath his touch, convolving on his work desk.
And then his phone rings.
I don’t realize it at first, as the ringing joins right into the blurry Elysium of my climax, but it really is his phone. It is right behind me, loudly ringing into my ears.
He lets it ring three times, making sure not to interrupt my release, before he straightens up and reaches for it with one hand - while the other is still between my legs.
“Yes,” he hisses, still breathing heavily. He looks down at me, listening to whatever the person on the other hand is saying.
I hastily put a hand above my mouth to keep me from making a noise as subtly teases me by bending his finger that is still inside me.
“Yes, got it, thanks,” he says, ending the phone call.
He hangs up and I look at him, running a sweat and breathing heavily.
I am still laying on his desk, with my breast exposed, my thighs down, skirt pulled up, legs spread and his finger inside me. Damn, what just happened?
That phone call lifted me back to reality with a harsh yank. I am confused - and utterly embarrassed.
He looks down at me with a naughty smirk and slowly removes his finger from my center, lifting it up and - sucking it clean with relish. My eyes widen with embarrassment.
“That was the most interesting interview I ever had,” he whispers. “Very promising.”
I straighten myself up and start fixing my clothes, casting him shy looks as I do.
“I think we might have a little more to talk about,” he adds.
My eyes follow him as he moves across the desk to open a drawer on the other side. He fetches one of his business cards and writes something on it, while I fix my bra and start buttoning up my blouse.
“If you don’t mind,” he says, while still writing. “I’d like to see you again. Tonight. Here.”
He hands me the business card. I take it and read what he has written on it, still sitting on his desk with my thighs at my feet. It’s the name and the location of a bar. A fancy cocktail bar I only know by name. I have never been, because the prices are way out of my league and I just couldn’t enjoy a cocktail that costs more than what I would spend on half a week of groceries.
“Do you think you can make it?” he asks.
I hesitate for a moment, looking back and forth between him and the card in my hands.
“I… I think so,” I stutter.
He comes closer and positions himself in front me, slightly spreading my knees with his leg. He takes my face in both hands and tilts my head back so I am looking up to him.
“Don’t feel obliged to show up,” he says. “But don’t be shocked by whatever happens if you do. This was just a quick taste I needed of you - and I liked what I saw. I might eat you alive.”
I stare up at him with disbelief. If I wasn’t still sitting on his desk with my bare bottom, I would already doubt the last few minutes ever happened.
His words are followed by another kiss. Just a quick peck on the lips that leaves me yearning for more as he withdraws. My eyes follow him, partly closed, silently begging, trying to pull him back. Damn, I have never been attracted like this to anybody before.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
“No, thank you,” he says. “I enjoyed you a lot. You taste terrific, young lady.”
“I… okay, um, thank you,” I mumble, blushing again.
“I don’t have anything to wear for such a fancy bar.” I randomly add, assuming that he must be used to much more fashionable ladies than me. How could he expect a college student to be able to afford clothing that matches t
he prices of the cocktails at that place?
He shrugs. “Just wear whatever you feel comfortable in. I can tell, the clothes you are wearing right now don’t fall into that category.”
I lower my head in embarrassment. He might be right, but I don’t like that it is so easy to tell. Then again, he has been staring at me constantly since we have entered the room. It should come as no surprise that he notices my admittedly awkward walk.
“Okay,” I say, clearing my throat. “I’ll think about it.”
He nods. “I’ll be there at 8 tonight.”
He makes room for me to get down from the table. I try to slip down as elegantly as possible and get dressed.
“If you wish, I can send someone to pick you up.” He suggests as I go around the table to grab my purse.
“That won’t be necessary, thank you.”
Five
I don’t want to make too much of a big deal of it - but of course I do. My heart was back at its normal pace only when I left the building. He escorted me all the way to the reception, just as he had done with the interviewee before me. I wonder if he did the same thing to her. After all, there was this rumor of him coming on to college girls in interviews. I couldn’t be the first one.
And I still can’t believe, it actually happened. I came on his tongue only minutes after we met for the first time. In his office. During a job interview.
I want more. And the amazing thing is - so does he, apparently. I have never been wanted by a man like him. Older, successful, confident, handsome and so irresistibly demanding.
I am glad that Liz is not home when I get back from the interview, and she probably won’t be here until late. I might even get out of explaining where I am headed tonight. Or why I took a shower right after I came back home and why I am now spending my entire afternoon in front of my wardrobe, cursing everything I own. Something, I feel comfortable in. Easier said than done.
It only takes me a few hours - and a glass of wine - to finally decide upon a black little dress. A classic. It’s anything but expensive, but classy and probably the most fancy item I own. It ends above the knee and has quite a low neckline, emphasizing my cleavage just enough. I have only worn it twice, because there have been few occasions that called for a getup like this. I add a silver necklace and unflashy silver earrings that go along with it. My hairs falls down in thick, dark brown waves, like it usually does. I reapply my make-up, probably a bit too heavy, which is only a natural side effect of my nervousness.
