I went out to the bullpen. The girls looked spent, but they were still plugging away. It was an impressive display of loyalty. One of the girls didn’t look spent, though. Carla looked pretty satisfied.
Oddly enough, I spotted Carla’s peeled-off pantyhose hanging off the back of a chair before I drank the rest in. The cubicle wall blocked part of my view, but as I got closer, I could see exactly what was going on. Victor was giving Carla a foot rub, right there in the office! It stopped me dead in my tracks. Carla’s eyelids hung heavily, as if she were in heaven.
“Isn’t it great?” June said to me. She was carrying an armful of artwork to the conference room. “He did me before. Victor’s hands are like magic.”
I knew Victor’s hands were magical. I’d known before any of them. Had Carla pulled off her pantyhose, or did Victor? Could her panties be far behind? Or were they already off? Victor was a panty thief, after all.
“Tengler!” Victor called, having finally spotted me. “Send these ladies home! What’s the matter with you? Do you want to drive them into the ground?” Victor looked down at Carla and gave her a wink. Oh, I bet Carla was going for a visit to the Granary Building tonight. My face grew hot. I was just about to send everyone home and Victor had stolen my line. Now the bullpen would see me as the ogre. “Okay, ladies!” Victor called out. “Good job. Head on home.”
A stylish satchel bearing a brass plate inscribed “VA”—Victor Andrews—sat on the floor beside Carla’s chair. Clearly Victor had been on his way out before my entrance. My hands clenched as I saw Carla tuck her discarded pantyhose into Victor’s satchel. It was getting harder to contain my anger.
“Thanks for the foot rub, Victor,” Carla said, touching him lightly on the arm.
“Thanks for working so hard,” Victor said in reply. Maybe he thought I didn’t notice, or maybe he didn’t care what I thought, but Victor gave Carla’s butt a pat. She smiled at him over her shoulder. That tramp! And why had I never noticed how short her skirts were? They were definitely not office appropriate. I was going to have to counsel Carla on her attire, and her behavior.
I was tapping my foot—the only discrete way I had to vent my anger—but that only reminded me how sore my foot was. Where was my foot rub? I could really use one.
Victor stood next to me, holding his satchel, while we watched everyone clear out. I was dead set on leaving last. Apparently, so was Victor. Once the office was clear, the two of us went to the elevator.
On the ride down, I cleared my throat and said, “That was some good work today.”
Staring straight ahead, Victor replied, “Yes, the bullpen did well.” Sure, they did well. My steering of their efforts didn’t count for anything at all in his eyes. Or maybe he was focused on the dirty pantyhose in his satchel. Did he know they were there?
The elevator was approaching the lobby, and suddenly I had the urge not to let Victor leave. I placed my hand on his strong arm and said, “Would you like to get a drink? I think it would be helpful if we got to know each other better.”
Victor brushed my hand away.
“I don’t fraternize with co-workers,” he said.
The elevator doors opened, and so did my mouth. My jaw was hanging down in utter amazement. Victor didn’t notice. He strode right into and out of the lobby, not even acknowledging I’d never left the elevator. I stood there so long, the elevator doors closed on me, and I had to ride up to the twenty-third floor before getting back down to the lobby.
Victor was long gone by the time I finally exited the elevator. Night had fallen, and the streets were dark. I should have gone home, but there was so much pent-up energy in me I just kept walking. My calves sang in pain, but I didn’t care.
Ugh. He made me so angry. He didn’t fraternize with the employees! Who was he kidding? He’d yanked Carla’s pantyhose off right in the cubicle! Well, I didn’t know that for sure. Carla could have taken them off in the ladies’ room. But he’d patted her behind. I’d seen that! Didn’t fraternize, and we had no history—Victor was such a liar.
I finally stopped my walking when I was alongside the river. There were no fireworks on Mondays, but I held the rail of the Riverwalk and harkened back to Friday night, when Victor had cradled me in his embrace and reminded my body how to feel special. Was that really only three days ago? My hips were swaying slightly, in memory, and I turned away from the river before I lost control and slid my hand down my skirt.
With my back to the river, I realized I was across the street from the Granary Building—Victor’s building. Goodness. Was I subconsciously stalking Victor? No, not at all. It was a coincidence. That was it, just a coincidence. I’d walked there without thinking. But, now that I knew where I was, why wasn’t I leaving? I stood by a tree, scanning up and down the block.
Before long, I spotted Victor strutting up the block. His cocksure walk was a sure giveaway. It was almost as if he had to tell the world he had a big, beautiful cock with every step he took. Sure, it was big, and it was beautiful, and he certainly knew how to use it, and it didn’t tire easily—but he didn’t have to advertise it.
I bit my lip and sidled behind the tree. Victor was alone! Carla was nowhere in sight. Victor was carrying a fast food bag. There was no way he could have met up with Carla and gotten fast food in such a short time. Victor was alone.
He entered his building, and I only hung around for an hour to make sure Carla didn’t show up, and Victor didn’t leave.
There was a spring in my step as I headed back to my apartment.
CHAPTER FOUR
The next morning, with my legs freshly shaved and thoroughly lotioned, I donned my best push-up bra, and a lacy wisp of a thong. The curve-hugging knit dress I pulled out of my closet had never been worn in public, especially not to work. It required a certain confidence to pull off, and even if I didn’t have that confidence, I needed to look like I did. The one time I had modeled the short, shoulderless knit dress for Kevin, he had jumped my bones with gusto. There was no way Victor could resist this. I pulled on a pair of sexy ankle boots from back in my club-hopping days, and let out a low whistle when I saw myself in the full-length mirror. Eat your heart out, Carla. I saw him first.
My pencil-skirt from yesterday turned some heads as I walked the city streets, but my knit dress wrenched some necks. The knit was so snug it was obvious I was wearing a thong, or perhaps not wearing anything at all. The male attention on the street emboldened me. I strutted as if I were on the catwalk.
I met Victor at the elevator. His eyes nearly popped out of his head. I smiled smugly as I felt the heat of the other men in the elevator eye-fuck me. Two floors before our own Victor and I were alone.
“Is that appropriate attire for the office?” Victor asked.
“It’s as appropriate as you patting Carla on the butt after rubbing her feet,” I replied. “Are you going to return her pantyhose to her, or are you adding them to your collection?” Wow! This outfit made me brassy!
Victor didn’t say another word. When the doors opened, he let me exit first, and then followed me into the office. It was ten to nine, but I didn’t want Victor to seize the initiative from me like he did the day before, so before I entered my office, I stood by the bullpen and addressed my employees.
“Ladies!” I said with more forcefulness than ever before. Holy moly, it worked! They stopped talking right away. I was in command. “That was a fine job you did yesterday, but I need something different today. Yesterday was for brainstorming, and quantity of ideas. Today, you need to hone and focus. Shirt Watches are all about trendiness and exclusivity—leave practicality behind. I want your best concepts on my desk by eleven. We can’t pull all-nighters every day.” They hunkered down the minute I finished.
Victor followed me into my office.
“Tengler,” Victor said as he shut the door.
“Yes, Andrews?”
“You can’t ride roughshod over creative people like that. You’ll hinder their process.”
; There was some room between us. Usually Victor was invading my personal space, all dominant and alpha-male, but not now. Taking a page from his book, I stepped so close to Victor that my breasts were nearly touching his lapels. With my hands on my hips, I locked gazes with him.
“I disagree, Victor. Creative people need discipline. Deadlines make them productive. Besides, those women are my employees. I’ll handle them how I like. And speaking of handling them,” I reached up and cupped Victor’s chin, “keep your hands off my girls. Understood?” Victor stared at me with steely resolve. I pushed his chin up and down, making him nod even if he didn’t want to. “Good boy,” I said. “Maybe it’s not only the creative department that needs discipline.” Yowza! Where was all this moxie coming from?
I sauntered away from Victor and leaned over the front of my desk. I could reach my computer if I stretched. My elbows rested on the desktop as I peered at my monitor. I didn’t know how high my dress rode up as I leaned over that way, but it felt a bit chilly on the backs of my upper thighs.
When I looked back over my bare shoulder, Victor was standing there, very hard to read. I said softly, “I have an opening for you.” Victor swallowed. Hah! “Twelve o’clock, I’ll fit you in.”
For once, Victor was speechless. He nodded and left my office.
Round one to me.
I pulled the blinds on my glass walls, so the bullpen wouldn’t feel the full heat of my gaze, but I kept my office door open. My creative team was a buzz of activity. I sat at my desk, vetting the ideas they brought me. The only time I got up was when Victor ambled through the bullpen. While Victor was there, I went out and stood over the bullpen, my arms crossed. Victor glowered at me, but he didn’t touch any of the girls. Good. I didn’t want Victor touching any of the girls.
I wanted to be the only one Victor touched.
The clock moved with interminable slowness as I kept myself busy waiting for noon to come around. At ten of, I made sure I was standing and gazing out my window at the river, looking as if I were deep in thought. I didn’t want Victor seeing me in any way but my best. If I sat on my couch, my belly would pooch up, and if I sat behind my desk then my legs would be hidden. What was the point of wearing a short dress if it couldn’t be seen?
Emily asked me if I wanted any lunch, and I told her no. Standing by my office window, I watched the college sculling team flit up the broad ribbon of water. I’d had such a crush on one of the rowers when I was in college. Watching them brought me back. Victor had the cut muscles of a sculling champion—I remembered running my palms all over them.
The office door closed behind me, and I heard the door’s blinds shut and the privacy lock click. My heart skipped a beat, but I didn’t turn around. Victor stepped up behind me. His presence exerted a gravitational pull on my very core.
“Can you see the fireworks from here?” Victor asked. “Oh, it’s daytime. By the way, your dress is irresistible,” he whispered. “Is it as soft as it looks?”
“You tell me.”
Victor’s hand slid along my stomach, and my body responded to the memory of his touch. Victor could say all he wanted that we had no history, but my body remembered. My body remembered his touch fondly. When I didn’t push him away, Victor placed his other palm on my hip. I was in his embrace once more.
“Your dress is soft,” Victor said. “And filled with the most amazing curves.” Victor’s voice dropped to a low murmur. “Your team is slaving away out there. You, Nancy, sure know how to motivate people. You motivate me. You animate me. You entice me.” His lips settled on the side of my neck, kissing me gently, and I ran my fingers over his buzzcut.
“I thought you didn’t fraternize with co-workers?” I asked teasingly.
“My lawyer advises me not to,” Victor replied. His fingers slid along my hips as if he were a blind man trying to see me. “But I see that more as a guideline than a hard rule.”
My plan had been to drive him into a frenzy, to tease him all day, and to leave him with the worst case of blueballs in the history of blueballs. That would show him!
I tossed my plan out the window.
Whirling around, I kissed him and pressed my breasts against his hard chest. His mouth opened in surprise, and I teased his tongue with mine. Victor tasted of spearmint gum. His hands seemed everywhere on my body—along my back, caressing my hips, squeezing the base of my neck. I’d had the initiative in our kiss, but Victor seized the field, and I surrendered my mouth to him. It brought me back to Friday night, on his balcony, and I had the strongest urge to drop to my knees and open his trousers.
No. Not in my office.
I ran my hands inside his suit, along his dress shirt, over his cut physique, and then pushed his suit jacket off and to the floor. I pulled at Victor’s tie, and then began unknotting it, slowly, teasingly.
“Can you retie this?” I asked as the silk neckwear came undone. “Or did your mother tie for you this morning?”
“No,” Victor said. “Carla did.”
I scrunched my brow and dug my gaze into his blue eyes. I saw him go home alone the night before. He was alone—no Carla. Aha! Victor broke into a smile. “Gotcha,” Victor said.
“You are such an asshole,” I hissed happily. My fingers clumsily undid Victor’s belt buckle. “You’d better fuck me good.” His hands pulled up my dress, and my bare butt pressed onto the cool aluminum of the cabinet under my office window.
“What’s that?” Victor asked. “You want me to fuck your asshole?”
“Not now,” I said. My hand was in his boxers, and I stroked his erection. Victor slipped his thumbs under my thong straps, and pulled down. I felt him flossing my ass. I smelled my own arousal.
Lifting me up with ease, Victor sat me on the built-in window cabinet. The metal was cool on my naked cheeks. He slid my thong over my knees, and past my ankle boots. He secreted my thong inside his shirt pocket.
“Adding to your collection?” I asked. “I bet they’ll look good on you.”
“Trophy. I’ll earn it.” Victor crouched down and thrust his head between my naked thighs. My shoulders leaned back against the plate glass, and I let my legs dangle over his round shoulders. “I see I’m not the only excited one,” Victor said as he lapped at my moistness.
“Shut up and get to work,” I cooed, pressing him forward with my ankle boots digging into his back.
“Yes ma’am.”
Now this was what every woman’s office should include—a stud who was good at cunnilingus. I ran my hand over Victor’s head as his tongue slipped inside of me, sending a chain reaction of good vibrations up through my core. I’d read once where you could tell how good a balding man was at oral sex by where he was going bald. If he was going bald in the front, he was no good, because he was being pushed away a lot. If it was in the back, he was good, from being pulled close. If Victor ever did go bald, he’d go bald in the back.
Easily my best day in the office. My dress was hiked up, my thong was stolen, a knowledgeable stud was tonguing my clit—and I hadn’t even needed to take my ankle boots off. This was some lunch hour, but I needed more.
“Hey, lapdog,” I said, patting Victor’s temple. “Your tongue is too small. Got anything bigger?”
“Funny you should ask, Miss Tengler.” Victor rose to his feet, licking his lips. He pulled out his cock. “Care for a taste?”
I grabbed Victor’s shirt and pulled him close, locking my lips on his. I could taste my juices on his tongue, and my arousal hit new heights. “Fuck me,” I whispered.
Victor pulled my hips to his, and he slipped his hot head inside me. I couldn’t get enough of him. I became a kissing and stroking machine. My trembling fingers worked at his shirt buttons. I had to get my hands on his bare chest. Our kisses became heated and rushed. Our mouths slid about. “Oh yeah, baby,” I said. “That’s nice and big.” My hands finally got his shirt open, and I pressed my palms along his sides, and wrapped my arms around his back, pulling Victor to me. “Fuck me.”
My hips ground against his with each thrust, and my body yearned for more, even when his fat, heavy balls bounced against my butt cheeks, I wanted more.
Emily knocked on my office door and I shouted, “In a minute!” way too loudly.
With my body coated in sweat, I pumped Victor madly, and he bit me on the neck. “No visible marks,” I said, and then grabbed hold of his neck with my teeth. There were too many women in this office. I needed to mark my turf.
The thought of marking Victor as my own sent me over the edge. My pussy started to throb, and I convulsed around his cock. “Come inside me. Hurry!”
We orgasmed as one.
CHAPTER FIVE
Victor seemed worried that the creative bullpen would know what went on in my office. I had the opposite concern. I wanted them to know. I wanted all the women to recognize that I was the alpha, and I’d scored the prime cut stud.
I never got my thong back—Victor clearly had a klepto issue where undies were concerned—but I didn’t care. It aided my cause. I made sure to spend a long time looking over Carla’s shoulder, checking her work. That put my hips right at the level of her nostrils. She had to smell the sex.
The creative bullpen met my deadline, and by that afternoon we had a complete strategy that I pitched to the clients. I hadn’t known I’d be pitching to clients when I got up in the morning, but the clients were all men, and I was wearing that killer dress, so it was all good.
I felt so powerful. It was amazing. All those men hung on my every word, and Victor, who sat at the head of the conference table, hung on my words more than anyone else.
“First off, gentlemen,” I said, pacing around the conference room and wielding the pointer like it was a riding crop, “We must drop the name ‘Shirt Watches.’ There’s no cache in that name. It’s hard to sell.”
The Commanding Officer Page 9
