by Kari Wray
“Sure,” I mumbled. “I mean, yes, that would be great. Thanks. Thank you.”
“Good, good … There’s something I’d like to talk to you about, you see, away from the office. But anyway, I guess I’d better be off.”
He looked down at his large silver Rolex watch then headed over to his desk, lifting his navy blazer off the back of his chair and pulling it on, the white cotton of his shirt stretching tight across his broad chest for a brief second, showing of the clear definition of his muscular torso. I smelled a hint of his cologne as he moved; a spicy intoxicating musk.
“See you later,” he said, heading out of the office, and as he passed me I breathed in the expensive spice of his aftershave once more, triggering another brief flutter of butterflies in my already churning stomach.
I closed the door to his office and turned back to my desk, sitting down and then opening a desk drawer to take out my homemade lunch, wrapped in wax paper: two sloppy PB&J sandwiches and a slightly bruised red apple.
As I took a bite of my sandwich, I looked again at the calendar: at that small, blank white box that represented the slot for tomorrow lunchtime, and wondered just where in the city Xander Drake might take me …
Chapter Six
§
Electric Images
“Holy shit!” Lauren exclaimed over the phone that evening, when I told her my news about tomorrow’s lunch date. “You’re going on a freaking date already?! You don’t waste time, do you?”
I couldn’t help but giggle like a schoolgirl.
“I’m sure it’s just business,” I said, trying to reign in my excitement a little. “He probably goes out for lunch with all his new staff …”
But secretly my head was swimming and swirling, each time I dared to let myself think about it.
“Listen,” I said, “I’d better go. I want to get an early night …”
“Sure, sure,” Lauren said, the mocking tone still there in her voice, and I quickly hung up on her before she could make any more suggestive comments.
I thought about it again, as seriously and objectively as I could.
It was just business … Wasn’t it?
I wandered over to the couch and flopped down onto it, glad to be out of those uncomfortable work clothes, my freshly-showered, naked flesh now just loosely swaddled by my favorite, snuggly old toweling dressing gown. I picked up my laptop and turned it on; it was still open at my very last search result: ‘Xander Drake’.
As I scrolled through the many images of him — often taken from photo coverage at gala fundraisers and benefits — I for some reason felt myself growing embarrassed, like he was right there in the room, watching me. It was as if I could feel his dark burning eyes piercing into me, as I scrolled past photo after photo of his face and body, touching the keys of my computer with one hand and letting the other slip, gently, beneath the folds of my gown. I let my fingers trace lightly over my large right breast, feeling the tingling bud of my nipple stiffen and flicker with a new electricity as I touched it, pinching and rolling it between my fingertips, closing my eyes and, just for a moment, imagining it was Xander’s hand that was touching me.
Next I traced down over the soft warm skin of my belly, my fingertips grazing through the short curls of my pubic hair and then further down, over my freshly-shaven pussy lips. I ran my fingers lightly across my tingling sex, feeling my warm juices beginning to slick my fingers, and as my stroking motions became more urgent, my clit began to throb and tingle and swell, as in my mind I imagined once again that it was Xander touching me, Xander kissing me, Xander spreading my legs apart and cupping my buttocks with his hot manly hands, lifting my throbbing, dripping sex right up to his tender mouth like a goblet, so that he could lap at my juices, tongue my clit, suck at my pussy and work me tenderly with his mouth until I came, hard, against his face …
§
“Everything okay, Cassie? Only you look a little … distracted.”
I looked up from my desk in surprise to find Mr Drake looking down at me, smiling quizzically.
“Sorry,” I blurted out, feeling a hot blush creeping across my cheeks. “I just had a bit of a late night last night …” Then I realized how unprofessional that might sound. “Not on purpose,” I explained. “I just … couldn’t sleep.”
“Sure, sure. I understand,” he said, the smile remaining briefly on thick, full his lips.
I breathed out in relief, glad that he wasn’t angry with me.
“Still on for lunch?” he said.
“Sure,” I smiled back, hoping it came across as casual.
Was it obvious? Was it written all over my face that I’d spent the night writhing around in my bed, masturbating while fantasizing about my boss?
Get a grip, I chided myself. Just play it cool. Stop letting your imagination run away with you.
“Great,” Mr Drake said, and turned to go into his office, pushing open the heavy wooden door, the navy blazer stretching tight for a moment across his beautifully broad shoulders.
I looked down at the little retro-modernist, egg-shaped clock on my desk, it’s ticking hands proclaiming that there were just three hours remaining until our lunch date, and once again I wondering where he might take me.
§
That morning really dragged. I tried to keep busy, updating Xander’s diary and taking various business calls, but I found that I just couldn’t fully focus; I was way too nervous about lunch. Eventually one o’ clock came around and the office door behind me opened, and then there he was, casually pulling on his immaculately tailored suit jacket and buttoning a single button, his shirt beneath it so crisp and starched and white it looked like something right from a fabric softener advert.
“Ready?” he said, raising one eyebrow, as casually and familiarly as if we’d known each other for years.
It was hard to believe that this man, who stood here smiling warmly at me, was the same person who was rumored to be so ruthless and cut-throat in his business dealings, known in the building development trade for his cold, hard decisions and his icy-cool, never-look-back exterior.
I smiled and nodded and gingerly lifted myself out of my seat, tottering for a split second on my heels before righting myself just in the knick of time. It felt like ice skating, except that here there was no side of the ice rink to grab onto, should I slip and fall flat on my face. I took a deep breath, sucked in my tummy, then grabbed my coat, a simple black mackintosh, from the coat stand by my desk and followed Xander out through the large, open-plan office in the direction of the elevators.
And perhaps I was just imagining it, but it felt like every single pair of eyes in that room followed us as we left.
Chapter Seven
§
A Little History
“Your order, Madame?” The little waiter was like something out of a movie - white shirt, black waistcoat, French accent, and a waxy pencil mustache, his obsequiousness almost comical in its nature.
I looked once more over the menu — all those expensive, foreign, mysterious dishes — and the words all seemed to swarm together on the page. Some of them I knew what they were but didn’t know how to pronounce, and some things I’d just straight-up never heard of before. This was a level of fine dining, I’d not had the chance to experience before and I felt out of my element, right out at the deep end, just about keeping my head above water.
“I’ll have …” I said, stalling for time.
And then, as luck would have it, my eye strayed down to an item I recognized, right at the bottom of the menu.
“… The cheeseburger and fries!” I said, feeling a wave of relief.
“Very good, Madame,” the waiter purred in his ornate, continental way, taking our menus then bowing and nodding.
“Any drinks?”
“Just water for me,” Xander said. “But feel free to have something stronger if you like, Cassie. I won’t report you to the boss, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
I laughed at this
, but shook my head. “No water’s good for me too.”
“Very well,” the waiter purred, bowing and fawning, smiling obsequiously at Xander, obviously hoping for a huge tip. Finally he scurried off into the kitchen, leaving us sitting in silence, alone at our little candle-lit table.
I looked once more around the dimly illuminated little restaurant; I didn’t even know it’s name. It seems like the kind of place that you only went to if you were already in the know about it. From the street, it just looked like a plain doorway, with a set of steps leading down into the darkness.
I took in the atmosphere with relish.
There was soft music coming from the top-end sound system and the scents from the kitchen were delicious and heady as they drifted past us.
At the other tables were well-dressed couples and occasional businessmen, all out on meetings … or maybe affairs.
I could get used to this kind of life, I thought.
When my eyes finally came to rest on Xander again, I realized he was smiling at something and shaking his head, as if tickled by a joke.
“What?” I asked, genuinely puzzled.
“Cheeseburger and fries!” he said, repeating my order, a note of amazement in his voice.
“Oh geez,” I said, feeling my stomach lurch. “Did I order the wrong thing? Have I made some kind of faus pax? I guess it was pretty childish, wasn’t it?”
“No, no!” he said, quickly. “It’s just that … the women I know usually just order salad. And then, most of the time, they don’t even eat that. They just sit there and move it around the plate with their fork. It’s good to meet someone with a real appetite for once.”
If only you knew, I thought, remembering again my marathon self-plesuring session in bed last night.
“So tell me a little more about yourself, Cassie,” he continued. “Where are you from? You sound … you sound …”
“English?” I suggested.
“Yeah,” he nodded, leaning in a little.
“Well, I was born there,” I explained. “In Bristol. I lived there until my dad got a job in the Mid-West, just before my tenth birthday.”
“That’s too bad,” he said. “It must have been tough for you, moving at that age.”
“It’s hard to remember,” I said, which was the truth. “And anyway, I’m kind of glad I moved. Otherwise …”
And then I quickly stopped myself, realizing just what it was I was about to say.
“Otherwise what?” he asked.
I paused for a moment. The words I’d almost spoken were still spinning around in my head, ringing out as loud as a pair of stiletto heels on a marble floor: Otherwise I wouldn’t be sitting here in this amazing restaurant with you!
I swallowed and opened my mouth to speak.
“Otherwise, I’d probably never have had a chance to see so much of the world.”
At this, Xander smiled and nodded.
I breathed out a quick sigh of relief, then continued, still feeling my heart pounding from my near miss with embarrassment.
“I mean, not like you,” I smiled. “I’ve seen your diary! It must be amazing, jet setting like that. Seeing so much of the world.”
He laughed.
“Oh, it’s a lot more boring than you think!” he said. “Sure, I might well be in Tokyo or Amsterdam, but usually all I’ll ever see of it is the airport and some corporate board room. And they all look pretty much identical, no matter where you are in the world.”
“Oh, that’s too bad,” I said, honestly feeling sorry for him. “Don’t you ever feel like staying longer, turning it into a holiday? It seems like such a shame to go so far and then not take in any of the sights the world has to offer.”
“I’d love to,” he said. “But as you said, you’ve seen my diary. I hardly have the time, Cassie. I’ve worked all my life. I never have a day off. And anyway, it’s not such fun if I’m going to those amazing places alone.”
At this my heart flipped again.
Was he suggesting that he didn’t have a girlfriend? Surely a man like him must be fighting the women off?
And was I really wondering if perhaps I could be the one to accompany him on my travels?
My crush was getting way out of control and I knew it. I had to put a lid on my silly daydreaming, and quick.
“I’m just gonna pop to the ladies room,” I said, smiling politely. “Back in a moment.”
And so, just like that, I quickly got to my feet and headed in the direction that looked most likely to be the bathrooms. Luckily I was right. I pushed through the doors and the room was empty. I gave myself a long look in the mirror, checking if my makeup or hair was out of place. It wasn’t.
The words I’d almost spoken were spinning around once again in my head, ringing loud as a bell: Otherwise I wouldn’t be sitting here with you!
Thank God I’d stopped myself just in time.
I took in a deep breath and stared myself hard in the eyes.
You need to keep this silly crush under control, I told myself. Otherwise you might lose your job; the fantastic, once-in-a-life-time new job that it took you so long to find. Don’t you go screwing it up now, over some silly schoolgirl crush, alright? Because then where will you be? That’s right. You’ll be right back where you started, having to swallow your pride and beg your mom for another month’s rent money …
But then, why has he asked you here for lunch? another voice countered. Surely this isn’t standard business procedure? Don’t you suspect that maybe Xander Drake has a crush on you too? You’ve seen the way he looks at you. Those big black eyes burning right through you. And you saw the way all the other members of staff watched you with contempt as you both left the office for lunch … They knew what was up. The cold hard truth of it is that you’re probably just the latest little girl in a long line that Xander Drake has hired in order to seduce and have his way with. And then once he’s had his fill of you, he’ll be onto the next one, and you’ll be cast out on the street, back to looking for a job, just like you were before …
This gloomy perspective took me by surprise.
Was that really what was going on?
My heart sank.
Suddenly it seemed so obvious.
He was just gonna try it on with me.
I felt like such a fool, thinking that perhaps there was something more between us.
I took another deep breath, looked myself deep in the eyes, then turned and headed back out through the door and into the restaurant.
As I was returning to my table, I passed by an older looking couple - a man and woman, both silver-haired, with little wrinkles on their cheeks as they smiled lovingly at each other - and I felt a surprising pang of sadness, or maybe it was just melancholy.
You see, they looked like my mom and pop, before my pop died, so unexpectedly, the day after his sixtieth birthday. This kindly old couple looked so happy and perfectly in love with each other. And I wished and hoped that one day I might feel something approaching that; something warm and true and real. ‘Cause so far in my life, I never had, at least not in terms of relationships. As far as love was concerned, I was still a virgin.
I weaved past their table and over to the dimly lit far corner of the restaurant, where Xander was sitting, waiting.
I realized as I approached that our food was waiting for us, too, and he was holding off from eating his until I returned. As I neared the table, he stood up, smiling at me, then sat down again as I sat. The perfect gentleman, I thought, trying to push the negative thoughts out of my brain.
“Wow, this looks great!” I blurted out, looking down at my cheeseburger and fries. It was true — it looked like something in a burger commercial. I’d never seen such perfectly presented food before.
“Just wait till you try it,” Xander whispered, before taking the first bite of his chicken dish, then closing his eyes in pleasure. “Believe me, I didn’t take you here for the ambience,” he added. “The chef is an absolute, bona fide genius.”
It was the best burger I’d ever had, and I had to stop myself from just outright groaning with pleasure, the heady taste of it filling my mouth and even making my head spin a little. It’d been so long since I’d eaten anything other than cheap sandwiches and microwave pasta meals, that I had to hold myself back from just ravenously gorging on the whole thing, as fast as I could.
Instead, I placed the burger back on my plate, as ladylike as I was able to, and lifted a single fry to my mouth and bit off just the tip of it.
It was no use; I was still smarting a little from my revelation in the bathroom - that Xander Drake was probably just after a sordid little fling - and I told myself to forget about it for now and just enjoy the food, because this was probably the last time I’d be anywhere like this again for a while …
“So how about you?” I said. “I don’t really know anything about you, either.”
“What do you want to know?” he said.
I resisted the urge to say, ‘Everything,’ and instead took a moment to pause and collect my thoughts, lifting the rest of the fry to my mouth and chewing it delicately. I swallowed.
“Well, where are you from?”
“Here,” he said. “I was born in the city hospital, and — excepting all those international business meetings I was telling you about and a few dull-as-hell private schools during my teens — I’ve never really left this place.”
“Family?” I continued, surprised by his frankness and countering with my own.
“All dead,” he said, looking down at his food for a moment, then seeming to shake off his sadness, and once again smile at me.
“That’s too bad,” I said, thinking again about my father.
