The Personal Assistant

by Penny Ward

“Um… no. I don’t think so.”

  “Then how would you know?” I laugh.

  “I’ve seen pictures. And I’ve driven past them. Any restaurant that can’t keep their sign clean isn’t going to get my patronage.”

  “You can’t judge a place if you’ve never been. You should come with my friends and I one Friday night.”

  “Not a chance,” he laughs. “I want a flavor explosion, and the experience of a lifestyle. I want to walk into a restaurant and be treated like a king. I want someone to take my coat, read the menu to me and be available to dance on my every whim."

  “Sounds ridiculous. Yun Lin, the owner of the takeaway, is the nicest man I have ever met. He is always smiling and always happy to help his customers. And he knows all our names. That’s true customer service – it’s personal and happy. I wouldn’t want any of that cold, heartless, distant service you talk about.”

  “Nope. Give me a Michelin Star every time. Wouldn’t eat anything less.”

  "I cook for you, and you love it, and all without a Michelin Star.”

  “But it is made with love,” he grins.

  “Well, what about the joys of a friend’s BBQ's or a day at a fairground?"

  "What about them?"

  "The fun and laughs available at both, often for little cost, without even a ghost of any awards, would knock your socks off."

  "No way.”

  "I go to a BBQ at least once a fortnight and enjoy good food and excellent company every time. And my some of my favorite memories are at a fairground."

  “But they look so dirty…”

  “Your parents never took you to a fairground, did they? And I can’t ever remember you going to a casual friends barbeque.”

  Caleb frowns and takes another slug of his fancy vodka. "Yeah, but you never ate at a Michelin-starred restaurant or ate oysters or lobster served with the best champagne money can buy."

  "Nope, I never have. Honestly though, if it lived on reef scum, I wouldn't want to eat it no matter what drink it's served with."

  We laugh, and our upper arms touch as we naturally lean toward each other. My skin sizzles at the connection.

  "Ahem. What is your favorite restaurant?"

  "Easy." He looks off into the distance, imagining it. "Kinugawa in Paris. As soon as you enter you're swept up in muted lighting, gentle music, Zen décor, air conditioning, warm hand towels, and candles. Perfect for a little romance." He does something sexy with his eyebrows. "The staff are attentive, your glass filled without the constant need to order it or ask for more."

  Is this a restaurant, or what?

  "Yeah, but what's the food like?"

  "Ah, well first come chilled entrées like tai sashimi à la Kinugawa, which brings out the subtle flavors of the sea bream to the full." He gesticulates, his skin brushing accidentally against mine. His enthusiasm is so sexy. "There are also hot starters if you prefer, like the nasu dengaku—that's half an aubergine coated with a sweet miso crust—or the ebi aspara apuri—a dish of grilled prawns and green asparagus tossed in a spicy lemon-garlic dressing."

  "Sounds incredible, and my stomach's rumbling. You may not realize this, but I don't live in Paris, and the chances of my ever eating there are slim," I shrug. "I'm happy with a good fried rice or a chicken chow mien."

  He shakes his head. "We've known each other forever, yet we're so different, you and I."

  "Because although we've lived together, we've lived different lives, had very different experiences," I tap the lip of my glass against his in a toast. "That's probably got a lot to do with it. To loving our differences."

  "Indeed," we sip to seal the toast. "I guess you're right."

  "Usually am," I say, holding my gaze on him.

  One more gulp of vodka and he's finished. "I can't think of anything worse than doing what you do for fun. BBQs, local takeaway restaurants, and whatever else amuses you, all are more havens for disease than enjoyment." He scoffs "But look at you," he allows his gaze to cover me and it's as though I feel exactly where it touches, "the epitome of radiant health."

  His gaze lingers, arousing me.

  Though I fear he's not thinking I'm a vision of beauty to whom he'd like to make love.

  More likely he's amazed I'm still alive after eating sub-par food all my life.

  His gaze flicks away from me to his empty glass, "Um, I err. I'd better let you get some sleep."

  I sigh, he's right.

  Back to the real world.

  Back to work in the morning.

  "Yeah, I guess."

  "Night, Little Em. Sweet dreams." He gets off my bed and leaves my room.

  As I turn out the lights and snuggle up, smelling him on my sheets, I think about the gorgeous creature—Caleb Hawksley.

  I think of us and I'm troubled by how different our worlds are outside my room, where we can be friends.

  Chapter 5

  Picking up after even the most attractive men can be frustrating.

  Why they can't pick up their clothes and at least drape them over a chair when they undress defies explanation.

  Still, my chores fly by, and I'm ready to sit back and take an hour off for a mug of coffee and a read of my latest romance novel.

  At least I am until I hear the ranting sounds of Caleb grumbling about the house.

  "Damn stupid… zero consideration. Now what will I do?"

  I sigh and get up out of my blue comfortable chair, walk up stairs to the middle floor to ascertain what's happened to cause him to gripe.

  "Hey, what's a girl gotta do to get five minutes of reading time around here?"

  There he is, dressed in dark designer jeans and a crisp—pressed by my fair hands—linen shirt.

  "What?" he turns to see me in the doorway of his lounge. "Oh, sorry."

  "Well, what's up?" He is frowning, "Who let you down this time?"

  "No one. Nothing I need to bother you with." His gaze swallows me up in the way it does when he's looking for a distraction, and he sees my book in my hand, "What were you reading? The smut from yesterday?"

  I push it behind my back, "No, something terribly intelligent and worthy. Why?"

  "Of course you were." He grins, holding my gaze for a few seconds. "Thank you, Emma."

  The expression he wears keeps my stomach gripped, my feet firm. "Thanks for what?"

  "Making me smile, like you always do. Sometimes I wonder why the hell I…" His eyebrows shoot for the sky. "Yes, you should let me thank you for all you do for me, and I know the perfect way to do just that."

  "I'm your housekeeper, Caleb." I frown, "Your thanks gets paid into my back account monthly."

  His enthusiasm sparkles in his eyes and I am lost, "Come to the Gala Ball with me tomorrow night."

  I'm so not the Gala Ball type.

  "No," I jeer, "Me at a ball? I’ve never even been to a ball. "

  What's gotten into him?

  “Yes. You. At a Gala Ball.”

  "I mean, what would I even wear? And what would I talk to people about? The price of bleach?"

  "I'll sort out an outfit for you. You're…” he rubs his chin, "a size six?"

  "Yes."

  He's going to get me an outfit?

  What is happening here?

  "Good. That’s settled then," with that, he beams, begins punching buttons on his cell, and strolls to the door at the end of the hall.

  Spinning with these new arrangements, I ask, "Err, going somewhere?"

  "Oh sorry, catch you later. Don't worry about a thing for tomorrow; it's all in hand. And thanks again."

  Chapter 6

  Caleb is a no-show tonight, and I can't help but imagine him with another woman while I lie restlessly in bed at two in the morning.

  A woman probably lured him back to her place and is now enjoying how he feels inside her, the touch of his hands on her body, his mouth on hers.

  Damn her.

  Just the thought of him looking at her with those deep blue eyes, and touching her with his large,
manicured hands leaves my chest aching.

  Still, there's the Gala Ball tomorrow night to look forward to, so at least he'll be with me for the duration of that.

  Hope the dress he gets fits me and doesn't make me appear too dowdy…or slutty come to think of it.

  Well, perhaps a little slutty for him.

  I smile at the idea of idea of him seeing me dressed up like his usual dates, and seeing me as a woman.

  Not Rosa's little girl, but as a sensual woman, and most certainly not as his domestic servant.

  Just for one night.

  Wonder where the dress will come from and who'll choose it?

  Could be the most expensive dress I ever wear, even more than my wedding dress, although that's another lifetime away.

  What a surprise he is, asking me to a ball out of the blue.

  Will I be there as his date, though?

  Unlikely, but he mustn't mind people seeing us out together.

  Oh no, will they think he's only being altruistic, offering a poor pathetic domestic girl to a ball?

  If I get even a smidgen of pity, I'm outta there.

  Stop thinking, Emma; time to sleep.

  You need to be perfect tomorrow.

  Chapter 7

  It's six in the evening and Caleb finally arrives with the dress.

  I'm waiting in the hall by the front door, sitting on my hands, trying not to show how anxious I am.

  "Ah," I stare at the huge dress bag he's carrying, but can't work out any details.

  Glimpsing up at him, I say, "You didn't change your mind about the invite?"

  He seems distracted by my state of undress, but after taking the time to wax, bathe in coconut milk, and moisturize my body, I didn't see the point in wearing anything other than my bathrobe robe.

  I want the dress now—the invite on the mantle said seven after all.

  I stare back at the dress bag, desperate to see its contents. "May I?"

  "Sure," he grins, a twinkle in his eyes and gripping the bag. "Come get ready upstairs. It's a bit pokey in your room, and besides, there's champagne to toast our first Gala together in mine."

  Our first?

  Meaning there will be more?

  And he wants me to dress in his room?

  "Oh, okay." I wave to let him go first, as is my habit, but he frowns and waves for me to go first instead. "Um, but I… K."

  I start walking to the stairs and feel weird turning to go upstairs to his living quarters instead of down to mine, especially as I'm wearing only my robe.

  But it also seems right.

  Housekeeper hat still on however, I tell him, "Your Hugo Boss tux is freshly dry cleaned and hanging in your wardrobe, by the way. I presumed you'd be wearing it tonight."

  From close behind me, he whispers, "Always pre-empting me, always one step ahead. Your mother taught you well, Little Em."

  His breath on the back of my neck sends finger-like shivers down my spine. "I know you well, you mean."

  "More than any man should be comfortable with being known by a beautiful woman."

  I laugh a little, but I'm slightly on edge with the compliments and unfamiliar husky tone I hear in his voice.

  There's an undercurrent of intent, but to do what?

  "Oh, no. I reckon there could be a few surprises left in you yet." When we reach his bedroom, I turn to him instead of walking straight in.

  "There you go again," he breathes, not speaks, "always one step ahead."

  Don't get me wrong, I've visited his room millions of times over the years, to work and yes, even to nose about—I'll be honest—but never with him and never in a state of undress.

  "This is so freaking weird," I say under my breath.

  He ignores my hesitancy, pushing me inside with a delicate hand on the small of my back. "Go in, there's not much time left."

  So, I do as I'm told.

  The master suite is immense, with everything you need in a bedroom, like a bed and closets.

  It has two large leather couches, a games console and entertainment system which can be hidden with the press of a button, and a huge en-suite bathroom.

  Decorated in black silk, gold, and earthy shades, it offers a general feeling of luxury and sensuality.

  It's always been my favorite room in the house.

  I turn to take the dress from his arms, "Right, I'll go get dressed. Won't take me long after that."

  He steps right up close, "Are you…excited, Emma?"

  "I'm nervous about meeting your friends, but excited to be going to a ball. It's a new challenge, but one I'm hoping you'll support me through."

  "Don't be nervous. I want us both to enjoy every aspect of tonight." He takes a strand of my hair and curls it around his finger, watching as it falls to my breast. "It's my thank you, remember?"

  "Already told you, there's no need for thanks. But I appreciate the gesture, and I wouldn't want to show you up in front of your friends." He's staring down at my face now, his deep blue eyes like sapphires in white stone are hard to fathom, but the vibe I'm getting is still so unfamiliar. "I'd hate to let you down, Caleb."

  "You never could. If only everyone were so reliable." Inhaling deeply he says, "You smell incredible."

  "I do?" Finding it difficult to inhale enough air, my heart races and I fight the urge to lean up on tip toes to kiss his plump pink lips, "Err, ahem. That'll be the coconut milk. Good for the skin."

  His gaze deepens along with his breath and the sexual tension between us is now unmistakable.

  No, it's not just me this time.

  He licks his lips, stepping so close to me my knees touch him.

  "You smell good enough to eat."

  He throws the dress bag over the nearest couch without taking his eyes off me, and begins unbuttoning his shirt with a determined expression glaring down at me.

  Either my imagination slipped into my reality and I'm hallucinating this, or Caleb has finally seen me as a woman.

  Chapter 8

  One hand cradles the back of my neck and the other slips between the two folds of my robe to investigate my nakedness.

  His palm is warm, smooth, and exploratory, travelling over my back, my bottom and, intrigued by my reaction, finally between my legs.

  I gasp, struggling to comprehend what is happening.

  My legs open a little wider to help him, and I grip on to his shirt for stability as tingles shoot around my tummy and down my legs.

  "I want you, Emma. Unless you tell me to stop now, I won't be able to. Do you understand? Do you want this?"

  Stupid man, of course I'm not going to say stop.

  "Yes, yes." I untie my robe and let it fall to the floor, blushing uncontrollably but brimming with unsated lust. "I want this."

  My hands reach up to cup his glorious face and pull his mouth to mine.

  Before his mouth meets mine for our first explosive kiss, he flashes a grin—damn sexy.

  His tongue rolls over mine, releasing a groan into my mouth which seems to reach deep inside me to stroke my g-spot.

  Insatiable need arises, and our first kiss surpasses all those in my many fantasies. Nakedness and virginity matter nothing when his fingers slip inside me and he hoists one leg up around his waist.

  "Yes, I need this so much," I breathe into his mouth, grinding on his fingers. "I need you."

  He picks me up and throws me back on his bed, shedding his clothes to the floor like a snake shedding skin.

  Only this is no snake, this is Caleb.

  My Caleb.

  And there, when not a stitch separates us, his taut tan body and long, thick cock stands to attention.

  He stares at my throbbing sex and falls to his knees with moistened lips and a hungry glint in his eyes.

  His face disappears between my legs and his mouth explores my clit, the subtle hum of his enjoyment passes through me—vibrations of need.

  I cry out, "Ah…" as his fingers continue to work my insides, and I grab handfuls of his thick blonde mane i
n my fists, spreading my legs as wide as they will go.

  Can this really be happening?

  When I think my body can take no more, he stops and smiles up at me with a shiny wet mouth, "You taste incredible. I knew you'd be sweet down here."

  Crawling up, pushing me further up the bed as he does so, as if I weigh no more than a cuddly toy, he says, "Here, put this under your butt, beautiful."

  I raise my sex and he slips a pillow beneath it and holds my legs wider apart before grinning at me. I feel exposed, a tiny bit porn-girl, but too horny to care.

  Inspecting me he says, "You are the perfect shade of pink."

  Never thought about what my sex looked like before, but he's clearly happy with it.

  I feel beautiful.

  Slowly, he lowers his cock to my entrance, "I'll go slow. Tell me if it hurts."

  "I want all of you, don't hold back."

  He grins, leans in to kiss me, and slides in inch by inch. "Like that?"

  Stretching me, he fills me up, and I’ve never experienced such pleasure before. "Yes, yes, ah."

  He frowns and laughs before thrusting himself inside, "For a petite lady you can take a lot of cock."

  My eyes are watering as I hold my legs around his back to keep him in place while I kiss him.

  Slowly, he withdraws and re-enters, screwing me as he has done in my imagination for years.

  Only now, it's real but seems every bit fantastical.

  "Ah, more, Caleb."

  I can't get enough of him.

  The gentle rocking builds my arousal to an almost uncomfortable plateau.

  My body screams to be fucked harder, faster, toward some blessed release.

  Caleb seems to be exactly of the same mind when his movements quicken, deepen, and I hear and feel his weighty balls slapping against my ass. I yell, "Yes, yes, I'm coming."

  "Yes, ah," he groans. "Yes…Come with me, baby."

  He pounds into me, my body maneuvered into place by his firm grip on either hip. He pulls me up and down, thrusting against me to ram himself deep inside.

  Harder.

  Deeper.

  Faster.

  “Yes!” I scream.