Taming Her Boss

by C. M. Stunich

  “Maybe I should have never asked you to indulge me? If your pussy's as loose as your tongue, then you're hardly the right woman for me.”

  Olivia spins and cracks me hard across the face, bringing the slight sting of blood to my mouth.

  “You're fucking unbelievable, Lex Lyndon. Just when I think there could very well be a slice of humanity in there somewhere, you prove me wrong.” She shoves me back with her palms against my chest. I stay stone still, touching two fingers to the slight dribble of blood down my chin. “Get out of my way. I'm done here. I knew it was a mistake to think this could work. I should've walked out of your office and left forever. I don't even know what I was thinking.”

  Olivia tries to move around me, but I back up, putting myself in front of the door.

  “You can't leave,” I say, and her mouth drops open, letting loose a burst of harsh laughter that makes my teeth hurt it's so dry and caustic. “Not yet.”

  “Get the HELL out of my way,” she snarls, shoving at me again. I refuse to move, crossing my arms over my chest. She wrinkles her face up and steps back with the pulse in her throat jumping furiously. The sight of which is not helping me catch my own breath. “You can't make me stay here,” she whispers, the sound sliding across my skin, rough as gravel but twice as touchable. I feel my instincts warring with my desires: I want to grab Olivia Ashcraft and see if I can get her to submit to me. And then I want to roll on my back and welcome her dominion. To say I'm confused would be putting it mildly. Which is it: dominate or be dominated?

  “Olivia,” I begin, but I'm not sure exactly what it is I should say to her. I'm not going to apologize for my comment, and she doesn't seem willing to apologize for letting my secret slip. She stares at me for another thirty seconds or so, the ticking sound of the clock hanging to my right the only sound in the room.

  “You can either move out of my way now,” she says, reaching back and dragging the office phone forward across the desk. “Or I can call the cops and let them know you're detaining me here against my will.”

  “Olivia,” I start again, but she's already reaching down and positioning her finger over the number nine. “Let's be reasonable about this, shall we?”

  “Reasonable means you getting out of my way before I dial 911, Lex.”

  “Let's both try to keep in mind the fact that you physically assaulted me,” I say, reaching up to touch my slightly swollen lower lip. Olivia shrugs and presses her finger down on the number.

  “Let's allow the cops to sort that out then, shall we?” she asks, reaching for the number one. I move across the room before she can hit the button twice, and grab the phone base, throwing it across the room at the wall and taking the cord and headset along with it. Olivia doesn't miss a beat, yanking her cell out of her suit jacket. “You are so fucked, Alexander,” she says, smirking as she swipes her thumb across the screen.

  I reach out for that phone, too, but Olivia pulls it away from me, holding it over her head. The door's right there, open and available to her, but she makes no move to go for it, sliding around behind her desk and putting her back to the floor to ceiling windows. Outside the glass, a shaft of stray sunshine breaks through the clouds and highlights her vibrant red hair.

  “You've messed with the wrong bitch, Lex. I am done with this cat and mouse game.” She dials some numbers on her phone, too many for 911 I realize with a small sense of relief. The last thing I want right now is the police involved in my mess. She lifts the phone to her ear and pauses with a smug smile crawling across her lips. “Unless, of course, you want to stick to the role of mouse exclusively. I might be able to deal with that.”

  “Who are you calling?” I ask, feeling my chest rising and falling with rapid breaths.

  “You'll find out in just a moment.” I wait on the opposite side of the desk, wondering how quickly I could get over there. But what am I going to do? The office phone was technically my property, but the cell belongs to her. And I can't very well pry it from her fingers. “Yes, hi. My name's Olivia Ashcraft, and I'd like to speak to Miss Caliper.” She grins at me as I curl my hands into fists and try to control the anger that's raging through me. “I understand that, but I can promise you that if you drop my name, she'll want to talk to me.” Olivia listens for a moment and nods. “Sure, I'll hold.”

  “You hang up that phone or it'll be the last thing you ever do in this industry.”

  Olivia swings her gaze over to me and smirks.

  “Please. I'm done with your threats, Lex. I knew from the beginning that you were a bully, and I should've never fed off your emotions. This is the last straw. This has gone too far, and I'm not letting you drag me down because of it.”

  I lick my lower lip angrily and glance down, spotting Olivia's purse in one of the chairs that flank the front of her desk. Inside, a sea of silver packages reflects back the fluorescent lighting above our heads. I bend down and snatch one between my fingers, lifting it up for her inspection. She watches me and frowns, but doesn't put down the phone.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” she asks me as I show it to her, spinning it around in my fingers with a smile. “That's not yours. Put it the fuck down.” I obey her command and toss the condom back into her purse, but I don't stop smiling.

  “Why are you still carrying these around? Just in case we ran into each other again?”

  “Hah. Hardly. Didn't you just call me a fucking a whore? It should be no surprise to you that I've got a bag full of condoms.” I lick my lips and look away, trying to take a deep breath. I don't know what she's planning to say to Lara, but whatever it is, I'm sure I'd prefer she didn't. I'm going to have my hands full enough with what's already happened. Lara's offer was … interesting. My rational mind tells me I should at least consider it, but this angry, thumping pulse inside my chest can't seem to focus on anything but Olivia. “You and I are way too toxic to even begin to have a relationship – not even just a sexual one.”

  “Why not?” I tell her, trying a different tactic. “I told you I'd do whatever you wanted, without question.” Olivia shakes her head and then pauses.

  “Yes, I'm stilling holding, thanks.”

  “Anything at all. Haven't you noticed? I've obeyed almost everything you've ever told me to do.”

  “Except leave me the fuck alone,” Olivia says with a sigh. She puts her hand on her hip and looks over at me. “Why won't you just go? I told you on Friday to forget about me and go find someone who can make you happy.” She pauses again and I hold my breath while I wait to see if Lara Caliper's on the other end of the line. But no. Olivia shakes her head again. “Why won't you leave me alone, Lex?”

  “I have no idea,” I admit. I don't know why I'm so obsessed with Olivia Ashcraft. It's impossible to say. “Go on a date with me and let's find out.”

  “I already told you: no. You can't flip a switch just because I was honest with you. That's not fair, Lex. I know what your motivations are, and nothing can change that. If you'd been nice from the start, things might've been different.”

  “Give me a chance. If not, I suppose I'll be running off to marry Lara Caliper. She just waltzed into my office and promised all sorts of things. Maybe she's the strong woman you told me to go look for?”

  “Lex,” Olivia says, but at least I can see a slight twitch in her forehead. Maybe my words are bothering her? If so, that's a good sign. A very, very good sign.

  “Tell me to do something,” I say, holding my hands out to the sides. “Anything at all. Give me a chance, just one chance, Olivia.”

  “Go fuck yourself,” she tells me snidely, crossing her arm over her chest and shifting her eyes to the office door. “I'm going to ask your future wife for my job back. Explain everything to her. If she already knows about the contract, then whatever I have to say can't possibly hurt the situation.”

  I unzip my slacks and let Olivia see exactly how infuriating I find her. And how arousing. Her gaze shifts over to my cock and her green eyes widen, the movement coinciding with
a bead of sweat that drips down her throat and kisses the cream blouse she's got on.

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  “You told me to go fuck myself. I intend to do exactly that.”

  I slide my hand down my cock, curling my fingers around my shaft and letting a gentle moan escape my throat. Olivia could look away, could walk away, could even command me to stop, but she doesn't. She stands there staring at me, lifting her gaze from my dick to my face.

  “Are you absolutely insane?” she whispers, pulling her phone away from her ear. But she doesn't hang up, not yet. I stare at her with half-hooded eyes, taking in her slender form and her full breasts, the smooth line of her legs beneath her skirt. I don't think Olivia has any idea how beautiful she is – or maybe she just doesn't care. “You think you can whip your dick out and what? I'll come crawling to you? Pledge my allegiance? Indulge your fantasies?”

  I don't respond, turning towards the window and splaying my hand against the glass the same way I did when I was kid. Only this time, I have my cock in my hands and a smug smile on my face. It's exhilarating to stand here, facing the window, with that inner nervousness that comes with the risk of being publicly exposed. We might be on floor twelve, but that doesn't do much assure my brain that I won't be seen, somehow, someway. I like the rush of it. That and the warm glaze of anger that coats the room, the judgmental glare from Olivia's emerald eyes, the angry twitch of her lips.

  “I'm simply following your instructions,” I purr, hoping she can read the tone in my voice. See? The lion isn't roaring right now, just rumbling softly beneath his breath. I decide this is the perfect analogy for our situation. The male lion acts tough, uses his strength to fend off rival males, but everyone knows that it's the lioness who's in charge of the pride. “Tell me to stop, and I will.”

  “Stop touching your dick,” Olivia says, and I do. With a clenched jaw and a small grumble of frustration, of course, but at least I release my fingers and put my other hand on the glass, smearing the clean window with pre-ejaculate. I know Olivia notices that. “Put it away, close up your pants, and leave this room. How's that for a set of orders?” I glance at her from the corner of my eye and see her ending the call on her cell. “Go back to your office and think really, really hard about what it is you want in life and why you're such a fucking bully. When you've figured that out, take five, cool yourself down, and give me a call.”

  “You're kicking me out?” I ask, standing up and doing as she says. Things are not working out exactly as I'd planned. I thrust my dick back in my slacks and pay very careful attention to what I'm doing with my zipper. Olivia watches all of this with a stoic expression on her face, like she's bored of this interaction between us.

  I've never been more turned on in my life.

  “That's exactly right. You're pledging to do what I say? To prove something to me? Fine. Figure this shit out, and if you do, really put your mind to it and give me an honest answer, I'll keep working here, and I won't press charges and I won't call Lara Caliper. How's that sound?”

  “Divine,” I grind out between my teeth. I turn away, still expecting Olivia to call out after me. Only she doesn't. I unlock the door to her office and step out into the hallway to the sound of ringing phones and the clatter of keyboards. People stare at me, but nobody says a word. If they know that's good for them, they'll keep their thoughts to themselves.

  “Hold my calls,” I say to Claudia, breezing past her and hitting the door to my office with my right hand. I pause and turn around, holding the door open with my foot. “No visitors.” She starts to protest, but I kick it closed, turning the dead bolt and storming over to my desk in a fury. My current impulse is to masturbate furiously to thoughts of Olivia, but I don't.

  I sit down and think about what she said, really truly think about it.

  I come up with an answer so quickly that my head spins.

  Approximately seven minutes and thirty-two seconds later, I'm unlocking the door to my office and sprinting for the elevator doors.

  I almost feel bad for abandoning Maxi again, but then I remember that somebody spilled Lex's secret to Lara Caliper. If not Maxi, then who? She's the only person I told. Still, it feels wrong to waltz into the accounting department to declare my return, only to walk out twenty minutes later with no intention of ever coming back.

  Lex has seriously done it this time. We keep running into each other and I keep giving him chances. Why, I'm not really sure because from moment one, I saw him for what he was: a bully who liked drama. I swore I wouldn't give in to him, and then I went and played right into his game.

  My head feels cluttered with cobwebs and my fingers are so twitchy that on my elevator ride down to the parking garage, I reach up and take my bun out, scrubbing my fingers through my hair to work out some of the hairspray. Then I braid it into a messy tail that hangs over my shoulder, a bright red-purple against the blackness of my suit.

  No job at Lyndon Realty Trust, no job at Oceanstar Capital Group.

  Expensive new car, expensive parking space, expensive townhouse.

  “I am such a goddamn yuppie,” I whine, leaning my head back against the polished wooden walls of the elevator. “Or I was,” I grumble, wondering what's going to happen to me now. I knew I should've never given up oil painting to work in real estate investments. What kind of a stupid idea was that? I'm not good with authority, have no dreams of kissing ass to climb the corporate ladder. Fuck. Maybe I should've just taken Lex's contract, fucked him a few times, and then taken back the life I'd always wanted? I could've painted all day and slept in every Tuesday, so late that when I got up, it was dark outside.

  But then, that would've required giving in to Lex. Okay, okay, so we've kissed a few times, and I let him lick me for like, thirty seconds in an elevator, but I don't consider any of that really giving in. Why does he have to be so freaking attractive? I wonder, even as I'm hating him and cursing his name and telling myself that throwing that phone across the room was a real dick move. I stretch out the fingers of my right hand. When I hit Lex, I hit him hard. I know that the moms would say. Violence is violence – whether from a man to a woman or vice versa. They wouldn't be proud. Of course, they don't know the whole story. They didn't see him blocking me from my own door. Why the hell he even did that, I'm not sure. The jerk bursts into my office, accuses me of blabbing his secret (which I did, so I mean I guess I can't complain much), and then basically calls me a whore.

  I should never have said all those things to him on Friday, all that talk of I would've done it for free. I blame the wine.

  “Stupid rotten grapes,” I curse as the doors slide open with a ding and let me into the fancy little lobby that adorns the parking garage. There's nobody behind the desk, just a sign that says If you need assistance, please dial one sitting next to an office phone – much like the one Lex threw against the wall. I move past it, sliding my key card at the glass doors and stepping into the parking garage.

  As I'm walking, my phone rings. I'm not much in the mood to talk to anyone, but when I pull it out, I see that it's my brother on the caller ID. He doesn't call me very often, so I figure whatever he has to say must be pretty damn important.

  “Hello?” I ask, tucking the phone between my shoulder and my ear, so I can unlock the car and toss my purse in the backseat. I slip my jacket off my shoulders and throw that in too, reaching down to grab the pair of slippers I left stored behind the front seat. Just because I wore heels today – to make a good impression on my new boss (complete waste of time, apparently) – doesn't mean my feet aren't still blistered and bruised. Damn you, Lex Lyndon.

  “Hey Oli,” he says, and I can tell from moment one that he's up to something. I narrow my eyes as I drop the slippers to the cement.

  “What is it?” I ask, slipping off my right heel first and rubbing at my sore foot before slipping it into the cozy hideousness that makes up my brown slipper. There's no sheepskin on these babies – they are all vegan. Maxi made me watch an o
nline video of sheep getting their skin flayed off their bodies while they screamed and struggled and bled everywhere. Now, I haven't stopped eating meat, but I did forgo purchasing a pair of sheepskin anything. Whether that video was representative of the industry – or even real at all – is irrelevant. It skeeved me the hell out.

  “Okay, so this is going to sound a little weird, but hear me out.” Craig pauses, clears his throat. If he thinks I've forgotten the condom pile he left near my front door, he's sorely mistaken. When I answered the door to collect a package on Saturday, the guy give me an eyebrow wiggle and a wink. You know how creepy that was? I came this close to kicking him in the nuts. “Maggie,” he begins, and I hold up a hand, even though he can't see me.

  “Wait, which one of your lovers is this?” Craig sighs, but I smile. Talking to my brother almost makes me feel normal. I said almost, okay? “This is the blonde with the weird half-smiles, right?”

  “Maggie's a brunette,” Craig says, like he can't believe I don't remember everything about his five lovers who he hardly ever brings to family gatherings. If Maggie's not the blonde then I don't remember her at all. Sorry, Craig. I keep my thoughts to myself, glad that Craig's phone call is distracting me from thinking about Lex Lyndon and his piggish attitude, brutish caveman-esque behavior, and scathing insults. Oh, and those full lips, that massive cock, the moan that slipped from his mouth like a piece of dark chocolate. Gah!

  I toss my heel into the backseat and reach down for the left one.

  “Anyway,” Craig says, and I can just imagine him tugging on the plugs in his ears, the same way he's done since he was seventeen years old. If the boy's nervous, his hand goes straight for his lobe. “Maggie … well … ” I slip my other foot in the slipper and bite my lip to keep from groaning in sheer bliss. “Maggie proposed to us.”