by Katy Kaylee
She had suddenly been too much, too present for me and I wasn’t used to that sensation. I wasn’t the type of guy who had to leave a room because of someone else, but that was exactly what had happened. And even with her gone, my lower half was still reacting to her like she was Aphrodite herself.
“Dammit, down boy,” I hissed at my insistent length. It was starting to get uncomfortable with how hard it was pressing into the zipper of my pants, the friction reminding me of what I wanted but not strong or slick enough to provide any relief. I breathed in through my nose, out through my mouth, thinking of business and acquisitions and even traffic, but nothing was working.
Probably because no matter what my mind tried to flick to, my assistant was there in the background. What would it look like if I pulled that raven hair out of its perfect bun that she always kept it in? Kissed her so hard that her cheeks colored pink with breathlessness? Let my fingers trail along that pale, porcelain skin until I mapped out every single bit of her?
Acknowledging those thoughts made me groan and I pressed the palm of my hand against myself, searching for some sort of pressure to get some relief. But it wasn’t enough. Nothing seemed like enough, and the next thing I knew, I was undressing and heading straight towards the shower.
There were perks to being the owner of a successful media company, and one of them was having a full, luxurious bathroom to my own adjacent to my office. While I had never been poor, my family always having been at least upper middle class, I’d always had to share a bathroom with all of my brothers. All of us going through puberty right after the other had certainly been a trial, so now I was more than a little appreciative of my own space.
I wouldn’t allow myself to grip my hard on like I wanted. I was determined to just take a cold shower and forget about my momentary loss of control. It was just because it had been so long since I’d taken time for myself to enjoy the company of someone else and I was a little hard up.
Yeah, that was it.
But instead of flipping it to the coldest setting, my traitor body turned the dial to its usual spot and warm, comforting water washed over me.
Control was everything to me. It was what let me build my empire. Let me tackle surprises and pitfalls as they came. If I didn’t have control, then it would be oh, so easy for everything to spin away from me in a mess of release dates, talent acquisition and spreadsheets.
Despite knowing all that, despite the irritation I felt running through me, my thick fingers were soon wrapped around myself, applying pressure and shuttling back and forth.
God, it felt good. My tip was already leaking, and it was all too easy to imagine that the hand wasn’t my own. No, it was my assistant’s, with her burgundy painted nails and small, talented fingers. I could see her so easily, kneeling in the shower, the water pouring down her thick, dark hair, those green eyes staring up at me all wide and innocent instead of calculated and measured.
The thought was intoxicating, rolling over me until I was thoroughly drunk on the idea. My imagination cooked up what kind of sounds she would make, trying each one on like a different outfit.
Would she moan outright? No, I would have to work hard to get that kind of sound out of her. Would she whimper, her mouth so full of me that only plaintive little whines came out?
I throbbed in my own hand with that thought.
“Yeah, we’ll go with that,” I gasped to no one but the shower hand.
I’d never been so enraptured by a fantasy, focusing on every detail of her that my mind could conjure up. I was so deep in it, I didn’t realize how close I was until I spilled all over my own hand, leaving me gasping and leaning back against the shower wall.
Shit.
I stood there, breathless and boneless, shaken by the intensity of what I had just felt. Somehow, I managed to turn off the rush of water, but my hands felt like they belonged to someone else. Someone who hadn’t just masturbated their soul out of their dick. What the hell was wrong with me?
I stared at the wall, trying to bring my brain back to business. How long had I even been in the shower, fantasizing about an employee like an idiot?
“Sir? Mr. Fitzgerald?” Speak of the devil, it was my assistant’s voice coming from the other side. “I have your lunch. Would you like me to place it on your desk?”
Just hearing her voice was enough to put me back on edge. Suddenly I was very done being the coward. We were in my office and she was in my space. I wouldn’t let her chase me out of it like I was scared of cooties.
Wrapping a towel around my waist, I strode to the bathroom door and opened it. She clearly heard me, turning to the sound, but the look of shock on her face as she saw me was everything I hoped for and more.
I was perfectly covered from the waist down. Nothing improper, unless shins were suddenly an erogenous zone I hadn’t heard about. But one wouldn’t have been able to guess that by her expression. Those green eyes went wide, and her cheeks flushed red, giving my masturbatory fantasy real world details to fill in the blank.
“Do me a favor and set it all out for me. They always have it way too hot at first to make sure it doesn’t get cold and soggy on the trip.”
I watched as her eyes roved over me, categorizing every single detail about me the same way I had seen her deconstruct so many other things. It was like her brain was sorting me, storing away enough stimuli to make the red in her cheeks spread to the rest of her face.
“I didn’t know there was a full bathroom in there,” she said finally, that small, pink tongue of hers coming out to run along her lower lip with nerves.
That alone almost was my undoing and I flashed her a smile. “There are a lot of things about GSME I’m sure you don’t know,” I said before closing the door once again.
Sure, a shower in the middle of the day was strange, but it had certainly revealed some interesting things. Such as that my assistant was indeed human and wasn’t impervious to my presence. She was just very good at keeping all of that behind her professional mask.
I couldn’t help but smile as I went about fully drying myself. I’d been so caught up in reveling in how she kept rising to all my challenges that I had missed the greater picture in front of me. Which was exactly how much she could be a challenge for me.
It could be a bit like a game of chess between the two of us, always watching, always figuring out the best move or strategy. I could see the game stretching out before us in a long, twisting and entirely too fun test.
But that in turn just made me wonder how much I could get away with before she even realized what kind of game she was playing.
Beverly
“Morning, Bev!”
“Morning, Sharon!” I called back to the front receptionist as I headed towards the elevator that would take me up to Mr. Fitzgerald’s office.
Somehow, we were reaching the end of my third week with the CEO and I was feeling fairly confident that I was going to hit my one-month mark. Even though things had gotten a little… weird.
I hit the call button for the elevator, relaxed as it took its time descending. I always arrived at work twenty minutes early so I could miss the lift-madness as everyone tried to get up to their floors. After my first two days in the office I had learned that waking up a little earlier was worth it if it meant missing out on the stressful crush. Avoiding stress before I sat at my desk was key to having an efficient day.
“Oh, hey there, Bev. You’re here early.”
I looked up to see Chris and another mid-level manager, both of them holding bagels that looked absolutely delicious. My stomach rumbled, reminding me that I hadn’t eaten breakfast, but I had a cereal bar in my purse that could be eaten once I had my agenda for the day.
“I’m always here at this time,” I said casually. “You’re the ones that are early.”
He laughed at that, as did the woman next to him as they joined me in the elevator. No one had tried a surprise party since that inopportune one during my second week, but I was still wary that the
y had something else up their sleeves.
“Hey, you’re almost approaching the month mark, aren’t you?” he asked.
I nodded, trying not to think about it. My first two weeks had gone pretty much exactly how I read it would online. But after I had gotten just a liiiiitttle bit snarky with Mr. Fitzgerald was right about when the weirdness happened.
It started off with my routine for the day changing. It was just tiny things at first. Things that required I interact with him for longer or stick around his office. But the most I did, the more I aced whatever he asked of me, the more my chores required me to stick around.
And I didn’t really mind it. Even if Mr. Fitzgerald was intimidating, blunt and taciturn, he certainly was eye candy. While I didn’t shirk my duties to stare at him, I certainly allowed myself to enjoy his aesthetic in my peripheral vision.
But then that had happened.
The shower thing.
Or rather, after shower thing. Maybe I should call it the towel thing. But whatever its name was, I had just come back from grabbing the man some food when he had suddenly been standing in a door with only a towel wrapped around his waist.
“I think only three other assistants have gotten that far,” the woman beside Chris said, sounding impressed. “Whatever you’re doing, you’re killing it.”
“It’s no big deal,” I said automatically, feeling my cheeks flush as I recalled his body. He’d been quite wet still, all shiny and slicked up under his office’s lights. I hadn’t been able to help it as my eyes focused on one of those droplets of water as it navigated through his absolutely ridiculous musculature. I hadn’t meant to stare, hadn’t meant to burn the image of him into my mind, but I could recall the scene so damn accurately that I was sure my cheeks were coloring.
“Well, I certainly think it is,” Chris said with a wide grin. “I knew you’d be a great fit.”
Thankfully the elevator doors opened to their floors and they got out, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
I was not the type to get all wound up over a nice body. I appreciated, and I moved on, always having much more important things to focus about. But I couldn’t quite shake the image of him standing there, looking at me like everything was perfectly normal.
And it would be one thing if he had made it sexual or had tried to come on to me. I had no problem marching down to HR or making a fuss if I was being harassed. But it wasn’t like that at all. It had almost been like…
My mind struggled to describe it, not used to such situations. But the best I could think of that it was sort of like… staking a claim? I was in his space, his territory, and he was just acting as he normally would. Showing me that my presence was such a non-entity that it didn’t even matter that I saw him wrapped in only a very expensive piece of terry cloth.
And for some reason that made me want to make him notice me.
I was very grateful for my smudge-proof lipstick as I licked my lips nervously. Soon I was going to have to put my professional mask back in place and act like I didn’t think the man was a total almost-silver fox.
A jerk, yeah, but definitely a fox.
I remembered reading that he was somewhere in his forties. Old enough to be my father - if he was still alive. But instead of being a negative, I found that so much more compelling. The things he had to know, the experiences he had to have…and the thrill I could get by just one word – Daddy!
I shook my head, banishing that line of thought. It was one thing to think that my boss was hot. It was another thing entirely to entertain anything else, fantasy or hope or what have you. I was just a twenty something underling that hardly registered as a person for him, and it would be best for me if it stayed that way.
I nodded to myself, as if I needed the bolstering, then squared my shoulders as the elevator doors opened. Just like every other day, I strode to my desk to check if I had any outstanding tasks that Mr. Fitzgerald had thought of in the middle of the night and sent to my email. Sure enough, thee was something there, but as I opened it, I realized it wasn’t dry cleaning orders, or a fetch quest, or anything else.
It was just a simple note telling me to see him in his office as soon as I was in.
My whole body went cold at that. Was this it? Was I being fired? I couldn’t think of anything that I had done that would possibly give him reason to let me go. He was the one that walked in half naked on me! Surely, he couldn’t be upset that I was just there… right?
Had I missed something? Was there some great task that had somehow slipped my mind? That seemed impossible. I had been so careful.
Well, I guessed there wasn’t anything to do but put my chin up and take it like a champ. I was sure that even lasting almost a month would be a pretty impressive thing to put on my resume, and maybe then I could work for someone who didn’t push me to the absolute limit of what should be possible.
But still, it felt like I was failing, and it was hard for my hands not to shake as I went into his office. I’d never really failed anything before, and the feeling felt sour in my mouth.
“Sir?” I asked once I was in. I was proud of how steady my tone was despite the sacking I was sure I was about to experience.
“You’re here early,” he remarked, not even raising his head from his computer.
“I’m always here at this time,” I responded cautiously, trying not to sound like I wanted to prove myself to him. “The elevator rush slows me down too much in the morning, so I prefer to get here beforehand.”
“I see.” He stood, beckoning me over to his drafting table. I had finished my whole receipt task that he had given me and now the table was covered with tons of paper, all of which seemed pretty important. “Well, we could use the head start anyways. I’ll make sure to adjust your paycheck for the extra hours you’ve been working then.”
Wait, adjust my paycheck? That didn’t sound like firing talk to me. “Yes, sir.”
He waved off my gratitude, his eyes on the table. “For the next two days you’re going to be helping out the entertainment division plan a party to celebrate our third channel. The Star Squad finally hit a million in profit for a year, and people are itching to have a real big blow out.”
I stared at the side of him with wide eyes before reining it in. Yeah, I knew that I might be a gopher for party planning, but I never thought I’d have to have a hand in helping plan it. He had to really think I was capable if he was entrusting me to be part of the decision-making process.
Or this was another test.
“What do you need me to do, sir?”
His head swiveled towards me and I swore that he was looking right through me again, seeing everything that I usually liked to keep so hidden. It just wasn’t fair that he could gaze at me like that and make me question myself. Like I had spent twenty-two years building myself up only to be taken apart brick by brick by someone who knew so much more than me.
“Start with emailing the entertainment division and telling them you’ll be my intermediary. Then I want you to schedule a meeting with them and go over everything they have. They’ve been planning for about two weeks, so I’m sure there will be a lot to go over. If you catch anything like what happened with acquisitions, I need you to fix it.
“I’m in meetings all day so I don’t want you calling me to check in every time you find a screw up, because I’m sure you will. Use your best judgement.”
Okay, wow. That was no pressure. “Sir,” I murmured, almost cursing myself for the question that was about to come out of my mouth.
“Yes?”
“Does this party have any particular…uh, business consequences, or it is purely for morale and celebration?”
“Clever of you to ask,” he smiled, but it wasn’t a warm grin. No, it was appraising, calculating, and it made a shiver travel up my spine. “While it is mostly to reward tons of hard work, there will be business prospects there. A couple of CEOs from companies I’d like to try a joint project with, plenty of talent that we might or might not be tr
ying to woo. If this party goes well, it could be quite a profitable thing for us.”
I couldn’t help it, I swallowed nervously, my tongue coming out to wet my lips again. “And if it goes poorly?” My voice was barely a whisper, but if Mr. Fitzgerald thought anything of it, he didn’t say.
“Why, are you planning on doing poorly?”
His tone had dropped and goodness, if that didn’t do something for me that I didn’t want to think about. “No,” I said as solidly as I could muster.
“Then that’s not a question that we have to worry about, is it?”
I swallowed, forcing myself to remain calm. Impervious. “I suppose not,” I said before hurrying out to send the email that he had told me would get the ball rolling. I was suddenly staring down an astounding to-do list, but I was sure I was going to nail it like I nailed everything else he had told me to do.
Oh geez, maybe I shouldn’t mentally use the word ‘nailed’ ever in conjunction with my far too attractive boss. I couldn’t help but feel like all of our interactions had changed, like there had been a sort of electricity running between them, arching through all the parts of my body that I usually tried to ignore.
Breathing out a big sigh, I sat down at my little desk and went about this whole party planning business. All I needed to do was put my head down and chug through, just like I always did.
I would show him that it was impossible to break me. That he could heap on as much responsibility as he wanted, but I would always, always come out on top.
I’d gotten this far, after all. And after twenty-two years, it would be a shame to ruin my streak.
Beverly
While parties were supposed to be fun, and happy, and full of all sorts of good things, I was quickly finding out that party planning was the complete opposite.
There were just so many details! The location, the parking, how close it was to public transport considering how big a city we were in and how cars weren’t the preferred method of transport. The food, the decorations, the music. Not to mention the invites and reminders and everything else it might possibly need.
