by Rowena
The good news is that, as a result of my overnight restlessness, I was able to brainstorm and plan.
I decided yesterday that there’s no way Candace is doing the data entry job she applied for; she’ll be my personal assistant so she’s near me most of the time, and continued exposure should dull her effect on me.
I came up with several ways to torture her while she’s working under me—before she ultimately ends up literally underneath my body.
My chest squeezes once I lay eyes on Candace waiting for me near the receptionist.
My heart thumped wildly on the drive here, though I did my best not to think about the fact that I’d be seeing her again so soon.
No matter how successful I’d been at blanking my mind with the scenery, my body was an excitable teenager again.
This will not do at all.
“Come along,” I say as I breeze past her and head to the elevator, not looking back.
My eyes don’t rest on her again until I turn around in the enclosure, holding the door open for her.
I watch her stride toward me, hoping I’m not giving away much in my eyes.
Candace already knows I’d be happy to fuck her—that goes without saying for any beautiful woman—but I can’t let her know she’s affecting me beyond that.
She stands next to me and I let the door close then hit the button for my floor.
The perfume wafting up from her is different from yesterday’s cheap scent. It’s richer, and more intoxicating combined with her natural aroma.
I’m quickly losing focus; all I want to do is kiss her till her lips go numb.
“I wasn’t sure of the dress code…” she begins, thankfully distracting me.
“Oh, don’t worry about it. I have a uniform for you.”
Her energy falls a bit, as if she’s expecting me to make her wear a French maid outfit or a thong and nipple pasties.
I thought about it, I won’t lie, but ultimately, the idea didn’t appeal to me.
If Candace is down to lingerie or other erotic outfits, it’s because she’s in my home, minutes away from being plowed by me—not here at the office where anyone could come in and see her. I’m not interested in degrading her that way; besides, what’s underneath her drab clothing is now for my eyes only.
“I also had some paperwork drawn up for you to sign. We’ll do that first, you’ll change into your uniform, and then I’ll give you an idea of your duties.”
“Great,” she says sort of absently.
I sense she wants to say more, but she doesn’t, and thankfully, the elevator doors finally open.
Once we enter my office, I slide the paperwork toward her and hold back a smile as she glances over them, signing away obliviously.
She doesn’t seem to be too concerned with anything but getting started as soon as possible, and it’s making her careless.
But even if she had carefully perused the documents, she probably wouldn’t have picked up on anything odd, though she might have been prompted to ask a few probing questions. Not much out of the ordinary is outlined, but my ass is legally covered in important ways.
“Very good,” I say as I collect the paperwork, tucking them out of sight.
Her eager eyes are on me, causing a tug in my chest once again as I get the strong impression she’s more than a little desperate to begin, but not for any reason I’d like.
I reach for the handset and phone reception to have Candace’s uniform brought up.
Her face falls when she sees the outfit I picked out for her.
On the surface, it’s as conservative and inoffensive as outfits come—a crisp white blouse and navy blue skirt that should hit her just at the knees.
“Something wrong?” I ask, keeping my voice and face neutral.
“No, of course not. Where do I change?” she replies, her face tight.
“Right here,” I say. Her eyes narrow at me. “I’ll look away,” I promise in a chipper voice, then turn toward the window looking out on the city. “Let me know when you’re decent,” I say, my ears tuned to the details of shoes being pulled off and discarded, the sound of zippers and rubbing fabric as clothes are switched out.
“Decent,” she says after a minute or two.
I turn to her and find myself sucking in a breath.
I guessed her size perfectly, and the clothes hug her curvy body deliciously.
Though it’s just a plain outfit, the materials are superior to what she was wearing earlier and make her look quite sharp.
“You look beautiful,” I say, my voice quite a bit lower.
“Thank you,” she whispers, looking away.
I clear my throat then position myself in front of my desk, leaning back on it as I face her—thankfully, without a raging erection this time.
“I’ll take those,” I say as I hold out a hand for the discarded top and bottom she came in.
Her eyes register alarm but she hands them to me, her gaze focused on them as if I’d just taken away her puppy.
“You can have them back at the end of the day,” I assure her. “Now for your duties. You are to bring me coffee whenever requested throughout the day, and you are to accompany me for lunch around noon. I’ll have various administrative tasks for you during the day; my usual assistant, Melody, will walk you through the details. You’ll shadow her today and for the next few days or so.”
Her brows furrow. “Wait, you already have an assistant…”
“Who was recently shifted to another department.”
By me. Yesterday.
Melody is excellent at her work and we are a well-oiled machine, but I’m happy to sacrifice a practiced, comfortable efficiency to have Candace near me most of the time—to quietly torment, of course. To rub in her face that I was right—as I told her I would so many years ago, I worked hard to make myself worthy of her, putting my head down and fighting my way to the top. I am everything I said I’d be.
She should have waited for me, damn it.
“Jaxson…”
“You are never to refer to me by my first name—always ‘sir.’ Got it?”
A light knock interrupts us, most likely Melody.
“Come in,” I say and Melody pokes her blond head in then makes her way inside.
She is petite and shorter than Candace by about three inches, and a few years younger. Her blue eyes are wide, her round face cheerful as ever.
I smile at her—much wider than I normally would for Candace’s benefit—and I’m rewarded with a slightly curious glance from Candace, laced with delightful jealousy. She’s probably wondering if Melody and I are sexual partners, and I’ll let her continue to wonder.
Melody’s face transforms, flushing and lighting up with joy at the unexpected display of warmth from me, no doubt.
I was mildly surprised to see how disappointed she looked yesterday when I informed her she’d been promoted and was getting transferred and a raise. But I’m no fool; I know she’s attracted to me and has been willing to take care of any other sort of need of mine for quite some time now. I just didn’t expect her to look so bummed about the switch—it’s not like her chances of sleeping with me changed.
I don’t fuck women in my workplace, though they have a chance the minute they’re no longer working for my company, and everyone knows it.
Melody certainly wasn’t on the way to becoming an exception.
Melody turns to Candace with a bright smile.
“Candace, right? I’ll introduce you to everybody, walk you through his favorite orders…”
Her light, feminine voice chirps on, and when the women leave, Candace’s scent lingers, making me miss her already.
The girls return half an hour later, giggling about something or other.
Without looking up, I hand off a few sheets of paper, not bothering to see who grabbed it, although it was most likely Melody.
She’ll go on to walk Candace through the copier and other basics until I need something else.
I remind
Candace that she is to be back here by twelve sharp for lunch, ignoring the brief, curious look Melody shoots Candace.
I have an inkling why—Melody was never required to join me for meals.
It’s only nine now, and between now and then, Candace has ample time to deal with whatever paperwork HR needs her to deal with once Melody is done with her.
“So I checked out your neighborhood yesterday, and I’ve got to say, I’m not happy about it,” I say to Candace as we settle in at our booth for lunch.
Our orders are already in and we should be eating in just a few minutes.
I plan to use every minute to learn more about what Candace has been up to over the years.
“You what?” she says, her brown eyes rounding a bit as she stares at me disbelievingly.
“I scoped your residence. I kind of hired you without any sort of background check—no follow up on references or anything—and I wanted to get a sense of how far away you were from the office. By the way, that whole ‘sir’ thing applies here too.”
“Wait, did you actually go there or use Google’s street view? Sir?”
“Does it matter? Either way, one can clearly see you live in a shithole. What the hell happened, Candace? That can’t possibly have been your best option.”
She looks away, and it seems she’s searching for a way to avoid answering me.
“Actually, I’ve changed my mind—drop the ‘sir’ while we’re here—anytime we’re at lunch. I need you to spill it about what led to you living in that neighborhood, so go ahead; no restrictions. This is your old friend Jaxson you’re talking to right now.”
I already have a P.I. looking into the whole thing, but I want to hear it all from her mouth.
Candace looks at me warily, then takes a deep breath, averting her eyes again.
“My ex sort of gambled away everything we had—every single penny. All savings, whether physically stashed in cash or squirreled away in bank accounts, either went toward bad investments, debt repayment, or got seized by the government. By the time Charles went to jail, I was completely wiped out. I couldn’t even afford a divorce lawyer; my parents had to help me.”
“And after? You went to the best schools, didn’t you? Surely finding a job that could put you in a better neighborhood couldn’t have been that hard. All that education, those fancy connections…”
“My connections mostly got severed after everything went down; no one wanted anything to do with me. And yes, as soon as it was clear I was about to lose the house and cars, I got to work on finding a job immediately. I obtained one pretty quickly and moved to more modest surroundings, but then…”
I keep my face as neutral as I can as the pause stretches on.
“Go on,” I finally say encouragingly.
Her eyes sort of dart around, and it seems she’s about to bite her nails as her fingertips near her mouth but she pulls back.
I sense she’s trying hard to keep something very specific from me.
“Everything was worse than I thought, so I had to…downsize even more. I realized it was safer to pay the absolute bare minimum for rent. Too many bill collectors.”
“Safer, huh?” I reply dryly. “Look, why don’t you make a list of those bills for me? I’ll take care of them.”
“No!” she says quickly, looking horrified. She shakes her head a little then says “no” a bit softer.
“Look, I know we arranged a higher salary for you and you’re perfectly capable of taking care of things better now. I was just suggesting an advance. We’ll make regular deductions from your paycheck for the payoff, so it’s not like we’re just handing you money. Go ahead and make that list and we’ll sort out the advance amount and payback period…”
I stop because she looks like she’s about to puke.
I’m not sure why this is stressing her out so much, although I understand not wanting to feel like you’re taking handouts.
But like I said, it’s not a handout—she’d be paying it back slowly but surely over time. I just don’t want her to worry about this basic shit among everything else.
“Be honest, Jaxson—are you doing this to help me or control me?”
I can’t help but grin at that. “I don’t blame you for your skepticism of my motivations, but rest assured, I’m only trying to help you. We were best friends once; I still care about you. Now, how much is there? You said the banks took back your assets, right? So no mortgage or car loan. And I know you bought your current car for a lump sum of about five hundred dollars or something, so no debt there. Speaking of which, I’m getting you a company car to get around in for potential errands during the day. Feel free to use it off-hours too—it’s yours to take home, and that’s not up for debate. I need to know you can reliably make it to work every day.”
“That’s fine,” she says in a quiet voice.
“Okay, good. We can talk about your debts and potential repayment plans later. How was your walk-through with Melody?”
The server arrives with our food and drinks, and Candace finally breaks out of the shell she’s been hiding behind since we started talking about bills.
I kind of get it—she’s a proud woman.
I wouldn’t take well to someone offering me such a favor either, despite a conciliatory mention of repayment.
However, I do want to get her out of that shady neighborhood she’s in asap, and that’s not up for debate.
But now that she’s somewhat relaxed now, I’m closer to seeing her smile again over the course of casual conversation.
I’ll wait until later to bring her debt back up.
Since I haven’t officially set her up anywhere else yet, Candace is in my office, her intoxicating scent calling to me.
I realize I didn’t spend enough time thinking this whole thing through.
I don’t have anything else for her to do right now, and Melody is on lunch, unable to occupy her, so Candace is sitting in front of my desk, looking adorable and smelling delicious and making my dick hard.
I consider sending her home early since I find her far too distracting and I have work to do, but I’m afraid it’s too late for that.
I put my pen down and stare at her, my sudden gaze making her eyes widen.
She watches me intently.
Her eager anticipation of my next move makes my dick throb and grow longer, thicker, harder…
5
Candace
“We need to set up an office space for you,” Jaxson says, “and although there’s one immediately available, I’d rather you work from here. It’s more convenient for me,” he says too quickly, “not having to wait for you to walk over or… what are you smiling at?”
I didn’t realize I was smiling.
I’d been thinking Jaxson was going to keep me near his maddening presence just to torture me. That, yes—it is beneficial to have me as close as possible for the sake of our working relationship and his quiet revenge. But I also sensed something else at play.
I tell myself it’s wishful thinking, but my gut says my nearness is what he desires for other reasons entirely.
I try to wipe my face clean and look serious.
“I apologize, sir. It’s just… well, wouldn’t you prefer the quiet? Or at least the sound of your own work? I wouldn’t want to annoy you with the sounds of mine—the typing or whatever.”
“Well, those sorts of sounds fade from consciousness, they’re so common. So no, it won’t be a problem as long as you yourself are quiet and occupied. I think we can get along just fine here,” he says with a glance around.
Then he stands and starts pointing, and says something like “so much room available,” but I’m now distracted by the bulge at his groin.
He looks rock-hard, and the flesh between my legs starts revving up in interest, my brain frying from the sudden heat.
I gulp involuntarily.
My god, he looks huge! Even bigger than yesterday!
I try to remember if his instrument was like this all thos
e years ago, but back then, I had nothing to compare it to—Jaxson was my first and only until Charles, who I definitely remember not measuring up to what I’m looking at now.
“So what do you think?” Jaxson says, snapping me out of my daze.
“Huh?” is all I can manage idiotically, and I can tell he’s laughing at me behind his eyes, but he keeps a straight face, and, I can only assume, repeats himself; the fog of desire makes it hard to concentrate.
Jaxson indicates the lower right corner of the room with his arm and says, “We can make a working space for you right here.”
My eyes drop to his massive erection again, and this time, he doesn’t pretend he can’t see my obvious distraction.
“Yeah,” he drawls mockingly, “that’s definitely a drawback of this whole setup. I suppose I’ll get used to it—your presence, I mean—and then I won’t get rock-hard every day. But for now, my cock remembers being inside you, Candace, and it wants to see if it’s as it remembers. It wants to explore your warm depths, as it once had access to do so before.”
I gulp again, much louder.
I can’t help it, and I can’t stop myself from getting wetter and wetter.
I want him so badly, but there’s no way I’m going there—not yet anyway. I already feel like I’m selling myself somewhat—wearing this damned uniform and calling him ‘sir;’ I don’t want to feel like I just threw in the coochie.
“Hey,” he says with a hard snap of his fingers, “eyes up here unless you want to do something about my dick.”
God, I don’t know what’s gotten into me, but I do!
Not fuck him but take him in my mouth, re-familiarize myself with his hard length inside me—between my lips, that is.
It’s less about me and more about wanting to help him out, I tell myself as I nod my head slowly in response to his last statement.
His eyes briefly register shock at my nonverbal response, and just so there’s no room for question, I say what I mean out loud. “I do want to do something about it, sir. Let me…” I lick my lips involuntarily, and though I can’t finish the sentence, I think the message is clear.
