Of course...after your punishment you will have your pleasure, a reward for all your hard work.
Until tomorrow,
Patrick
As she’d read his salacious words a warm heat had permeated her sex, and a hot flush had washed across her face. Her stomach was churning, her heart was pounding, and dropping her head in her hands she let out a low moan.
“Isobel? Are you all right?”
Brad’s voice bathed her with its warm kindness, and looking up she took comfort from the concern in his eyes.
“It’s my mistake come back to haunt me,” she sighed.
“Ah. Unwanted emails, they are a nuisance,” he remarked. “What can I do?”
“I can’t think of anything. I’ve painted myself into a corner,” she muttered.
“Is it an unwanted admirer? I don’t mean to be nosey, and if you don’t want to tell me-”
“It’s fine, and yes, kind of. The thing is, I’m taking a night class and it’s the teacher,” she admitted, and now I seemed to have lost my nerve to tell you about Kate, or rather me.
“I see,” Brad said thoughtfully. “So you want to continue these classes, but you can’t because you crossed a line with your teacher, or whatever it is you did,” he added quickly.
“Exactly,” she nodded feeling her face flush again.
“If he’s a reasonable man you can just email him back and tell him you’ve had a change of heart,” Brad suggested.
Isobel looked at the email. It was so thrilling to have received it, and if she was being honest with herself there was a part of her that was tempted.
“Have you had a change of heart?” he asked quietly. “I didn’t mean to assume.”
“Yes, but...” and not sure how to explain her feelings she let the words hang in the air.
“It’s not easy,” he murmured. “Sometimes an attraction is strong, and even though we really want to be with that person...well, if it’s not advisable, or even doable, then you have to deal with your feelings and accept the situation for what it is.”
His voice had taken on a tone she’d not heard before, and lifting her eyes from the computer screen she gazed up at him. His eyes were warm, his features soft, and there was something else, something indefinable about the way he was looking at her.
“You’re right,” she said quietly.
Kiss her you fool, just lean down and kiss her. She’s right there, you know you want to. At the very least put an arm of comfort around her shoulders. Do it you coward, do it.
“Brad?”
Completely entranced by the lovely, bereft woman in front of him, Brad had not heard the approaching footsteps. Ralph Brader, one of the publishing company’s senior partners, was marching towards him; bolting upright Brad turned to face him.
“I got your email. You say you’ve found a new author,” the man said. “I was on my way back from lunch and thought I’d stop in. Hello, Miss Parker.”
“Afternoon Mr. Brader,” she replied nervously. A new author, Brad’s going to show my stuff to Ralph Brader? Shit.
“Please, come on in,” Brad replied, his manner and voice suddenly all business. “I’m very excited about her, but it’s Isobel who deserves the credit. The writer is a friend of hers.”
“Is that so?” Brader remarked. “Let’s take a look and see what we’ve got.”
“Can I get you some coffee, Mr. Brader?” she asked, hoping to be in Brad’s office so she could overhear some of the conversation.
“Yes, cream and two Splenda,” he replied.
“For you, Brad?”
“No, thanks, Isobel, I’m good,” he smiled as he ushered his boss into his inner sanctum.
Running to the kitchen Isobel hurriedly made the coffee, and grabbing a napkin carried it quickly back to Brad’s office. As she neared the door she paused, hoping to hear something; she wasn’t disappointed.
“You’re right, Brad, this Kate person is worth pursuing,” Ralph Brader remarked. “We haven’t ventured into the adult market to this degree but maybe you’re right, maybe we should look at opening up a small division. Meanwhile, email me everything you have and I’ll read it, then discuss some ideas with the other partners.”
“I’m glad you agree,” Brad smiled as Isobel walked in and placed the mug on the edge of Brad’s desk.
“Ah, thank you,” Ralph smiled. “Isobel, when do you think you can reach your friend? She’s very talented.”
“I believe she’s out of town,” Isobel replied trying to control her racing pulse.
“Make sure she understands we’re quite serious,” Ralph continued, sipping his coffee. “Does she have an agent?”
“Uh, no, not to my knowledge, no, I’m sure she doesn’t.”
“Ever had anything published?” he continued.
“No, but I know she’d love to be a writer, a real writer, I mean, a professional writer,” she stammered.
“She should be,” Ralph smiled, charmed by Isobel’s manner. “You just make sure to get her in here, we’ll take it from there. Good work, Brad, you too, Isobel. I’ll speak to you both later.”
Placing his mug back on Brad’s desk he stood up and strode from the office.
Isobel watched him leave, and unable to control her trembling excitement she dropped into the chair he’d just vacated.
“Isobel, I understand you’re excited for your friend, but you look shell-shocked.”
“Brad,” she said tremulously, “there’s something I need to tell you.”
“What is it,” he frowned, “you’re starting to worry me?”
“Sorry,” she breathed having trouble finding her voice. “The thing is, I don’t have a friend called Kate.”
“I don’t understand,” Brad replied, his frown deepening, “then who...?”
Her green eyes wide, Isobel stared intently back at him, allowing his question to hang in the air.
“Wait...are you saying...this was written by you?”
Swallowing hard, face burning, she nodded her head.
CHAPTER TEN
From the moment Isobel had bounced into his office ten minutes late for her job interview, Brad had been enchanted by her. She was bright and bubbly, and possessed a unique sense of humility that he found utterly endearing.
As the months had ticked by his feelings for her had deepened, and her sweet eagerness to please never failed to make him smile. In vain he had fought his growing attraction, and though there were women he dated on a casual basis, whenever he was out with one of them it was Isobel who lived in his heart.
He saw his life as barren. Yes, he had sex, he enjoyed the charity events he often attended, his weekend golf games were fun, and the gourmet dinners with clients were all well and good, but his Dominant soul lived in a desolate wasteland with no food or water.
Sitting in front of him, was not just a woman to whom he was acutely attracted, but a submissive aching for her Sir. He knew he was staring at her, he knew she was completely embarrassed, and he knew they were both tongue-tied, though for very different reasons.
“I, uh, am amazed,” he began uncertainly, “why didn’t you mention this before?”
“Not sure,” she stammered. “I didn’t think I was a very good writer so your reaction shocked me, and the, uh, subject matter...”
Brad shifted in his chair. He rarely found himself speechless or unsure about how to handle a situation, but he was perplexed.
Take off your personal hat. This is business. She’s an author, you’re a publisher.
He coughed, straightened his back, and willed his cock to stand down.
“Isobel,” he began, his voice firm and his brow creased, “you are an exceptional talent. Don’t think for one minute you’re not ready to be published, you are. As far as the, uh, subject matter, you have absolutely nothing to be embarrassed about. I’ve been doing some research and this particular genre is very popular. I’ve been looking for something to take to the partners in hopes of spearheading a division for
adult material, specifically, this kind of adult material. You’ve provided it, and I’m enormously grateful.”
Isobel had sat silently listening, an emotional heat growing in her throat borne from a combination of unbridled excitement and confusion; the great opportunities and lucky breaks happened to other people, she was a sidelines girl.
“Isobel, did you hear me?”
“I’m not sure what to say,” she managed. “I just don’t quite believe it.”
“Believe it,” he smiled, then paused, staring at her. “Do you mind if I ask you something personal?”
“How much more personal can it be?” she asked with a faint smile
“Ah, yes,” he smiled back sensing a small moment of intimacy, “it’s just that I find you such a contradiction. You’re so damn smart, you seem so confident, but at other times you’re almost shy, and modest, incredibly modest. Forgive me for saying so, but I can’t quite figure you out.”
“I don’t know what to say,” she replied shrugging her shoulders. “Maybe it’s because I was raised on a farm. Life is really different in the country. People don’t like braggers, and I was raised to know my place. I mean, it’s not like it is here in the city. I see little kids running around out of control all the time. I would never do that when we went into town.”
“A farm? What kind of farm?” he asked completely fascinated.
“A small cattle farm. You have to have confidence when you’re around animals, otherwise they know, they can feel it, and they’ll just ignore you, or worse.”
“How did you end up here, working for a publisher for goodness sake?” he inquired, suddenly wanting to know absolutely everything about her.
“I have an uncle here, and I did really well in school so my parents didn’t object when I said I wanted to move to the city and try my luck. I stayed with him until I got a job. I was a receptionist at a law firm. Are you really interested in this? It’s so boring,” she frowned.
“Yes, keep going,” he insisted.
“It’s boring,” she repeated. “The bottom line, is I’ve always wanted to be a writer but I knew I wasn’t good enough, so after I got my own place and knew my way around, I decided to try to find work at a publishing house so I could at least be around books. It’s that simple,” she finished.
“Isobel, thank you for telling me. It does clear things up a bit,” he grinned. “What would you say if I told you that your days as my secretary are about to end? We’re going to publish you, and Three Dark Hours is going to be a full-length novel, if you’re prepared to write it that is. Are you?”
“My gosh,” she muttered, “I can’t believe this is happening.”
Brad saw the threat of tears and stood up, moving around the desk to sit in the chair next to hers.
“It’s very real,” he reassured her, “and I want you to write and only write. I want you to focus on that completely, because I think you have what it takes to be hugely successful.”
She stared at him for a moment, then dropped her head and shifted in her seat.
“What if I write the book and you don’t like it?” she muttered.
“You don’t have to worry about me not liking it,” he promised. “We’ll work together, believe me, your book will be fabulous. I’m going to talk to Brader this afternoon and authorize an advance.”
“I still can’t believe it,” she murmured, lifting her head and gazing at him. “Thank you, thank you so much,” and unable to hold back the wave of grateful emotion the tears began to slip from her eyes.
“Isobel,” he said softly reaching for her hand, “you’re really, really good, and I suspect you’ve got many more books inside you.”
As his fingers wrapped around her hand and his eyes locked hers, she felt a gentle stirring in her stomach.
“Brad,” she managed, “when you stop being my boss, will you be my friend?”
“I’d be honored,” he whispered, and fighting his own surge of emotion he squeezed her hand.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Shortly after she left his office, Brad called Ralph Brader, then headed off to meet with him.
“This is all about you,” he winked as he hurried past her desk.
Not wanting Brad’s work to suffer Isobel did her best to continue with her tasks, though every few minutes she had to mentally pinch herself as a reminder that she wasn’t dreaming and her life was about to dramatically change; Patrick Doyle and his compelling email became the last thing on her mind.
It was a couple of hours later that Brad finally returned carrying several folders, and smiling broadly he asked her to step into his office and close the door.
“Are you ready to hear all the news?” he grinned.
“Honestly, I’m not sure,” she exclaimed. “I know I sound like a broken record but I still can’t believe this is happening to me.”
“Yes, you do sound like a broken record, or would that be a scratched CD, but that’s okay, it’s all about to become very real. You now have representation, Gail Bolen from Bolen and Crane will be your agent, does that work for you?”
“Gail Bolen? Really? That’s fantastic,” she smiled. “I love Gail.”
“I know, that’s why I thought she’d be the best person for you. This is highly irregular. Usually an author will decide on their own representation, but we want to get this party started. Gail has agreed to a one year contract with a very flexible out-clause, so if for any reason you’re not satisfied you can get out of it and find someone else.”
“Sorry, I have to say this again, I can’t believe it,” she said shaking her head.
“We emailed her both Three Dark Hours and The Dungeon Master, and she didn’t hesitate,” Brad assured her. “She’s as excited as we are. She’ll come over late tomorrow with the paperwork, and then you, Ralph Brader, Gail and I are all going out to Raphael’s for dinner.”
“What? You’re kidding? Raphael’s? That’s about the best place in town,” she exclaimed.
“It’s a celebration, and Ralph and Gail want to spend some time with you, get to know you better.”
“Amazing,” Isobel muttered.
“We have arranged for an intern to help me out while I find a new secretary. She’ll come over tomorrow and so you can show her how things work around here, then come Friday you’re done. Your job will be to get cracking on the novel.”
“This is all happening so fast,” she breathed.
“Yes, it is, and I pushed for it,” he declared. “I’ve been wanting to do something along these lines for months, and the powers that be have finally agreed. I’ll be looking for more writers, but Three Dark Hours is going to be the first novel released under the new banner.”
“This is so exciting, and congratulations,” she said eagerly. “What are you going to call it?”
“Good question, haven’t quite figured that out yet though I have a few ideas,” then pausing he added, “maybe we can come up with something together.”
“I’d love that,” she smiled.
“The contract for the publication of the book is being drawn up, and I’ll be giving it to Gail when she comes tomorrow. Ralph has authorized a very generous advance which you’ll receive when you sign the paperwork, and that, Isobel, will be that.”
“I honestly don’t know what to say,” she breathed, “except, thank you, thank you, thank you.”
“Hey, I’m the one who should be thanking you,” he replied, then dropping his voice he asked, “Isobel, I’m curious, how did Three Dark Hours come about? Was it just a thought you had?”
“Um, not exactly,” she mumbled. I guess it’s time to tell him everything.
“What?” he pressed sensing her discomfort.
“That class I told you about, the whole teacher thing,” she began, “it’s a creative writing class, and Patrick, that’s the teacher, he gave us an assignment to write a short story using that title. I chose to write what I did after I read that chapter and hand it in for my assignment.”
�
�Ah, I think I understand. You turned it in and that’s when...”
“Exactly,” she muttered her face flushing.
“I see,” he said quietly, and he loved what he read and decided to take you up on your invitation.
Brad felt a wave of jealous sadness, and fighting the uncomfortable feeling he leaned across his desk.
“Two questions,” he began. “First, do you have any ideas about how to turn the story into a full length novel?”
“Definitely,” she said eagerly, relieved that the subject had changed. “I can write up the synopsis tonight if you want.”
“Hey, you don’t officially go on the writing clock until Monday so why don’t you just relax until then. Give yourself the opportunity to bask in the glory,” he suggested.
“I really like that idea,” she nodded. “What’s the second question?”
“Have you decided what to do about the teacher and the unwanted email?”
“Oh, that problem’s been solved,” she beamed. “Class is tomorrow night and I can’t be in two places at once.”
“Temporarily solved,” he said soberly.
“Yes, I suppose, temporarily solved,” she agreed.
“If you need to talk to me I’m here.”
“Thanks, Brad, thanks for everything. I’ll figure it out.”
“I’m going to give you all this paperwork,” he smiled picking up the files and handing them across the desk, “and you can look it over. If you have any questions you can ask Gail when she gets here, or all of us at dinner tomorrow night.”
Taking the folders Isobel stared at her soon to be former boss; his glasses were off and his milk-chocolate eyes were twinkling at her. She noticed his lips, curled in a slight smile, were full and moist, and she suddenly had an overwhelming desire to kiss them.
“What is it?” he asked softly.
“Huh? Nothing, I was just, uh, thinking,” she stammered, and taking the folders she stood up to leave. “I’m going to get some coffee, would you like some?” she asked wondering why her butterflies had unexpectedly sprung to life.
“I’d love to share a cup of coffee with you,” he smiled, “but how about we go across the street to that cafe and I buy you a cup of something decent.”
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