Rachel tried to put those thoughts aside as Michael moved away and began to lead her down the hall towards the boardroom. As his hand held her firmly by the elbow, she could feel the heat of him through her clothing. It felt like little electric shocks running up her arm, and the warm, delicious feeling spread to her breasts. Her nipples hardened as unbidden images of Michael’s teeth and tongue on them entered her mind. Catching her breath, she tried even harder to control her thoughts. Her cheeks flushed hot and she pulled her blazer tighter around her chest to hide her arousal. My God, wouldn’t everyone in the office just love the birthday girl if they knew?...she thought to herself, mortified.
With the blindfold around her eyes, she felt disoriented, but she trusted Michael and focused desperately on the upcoming surprise, hoping no one would notice her bare legs – or her blush. It’s just staff, she thought. I should probably skip the birthday cake, but then everyone will be disappointed. I’ll just have to spend more time on the treadmill tonight!
Rachel and Michael rounded a corner and she could hear the boardroom door open. She braced herself for a “Surprise!” which didn’t come. She could sense through her blindfold that it was dark in the boardroom…but why?
“Keep your eyes closed,” Michael whispered, and she felt an unanticipated delicious chill. Goosebumps ran up and down her arms and she found that her just-recovering nipples were reacting wildly again, pulling taut against the silk of her blouse.
“Open your mouth,” she heard him say in a guttural tone, and she surprised herself by parting her lips slightly. It would just be birthday cake, right? What she felt instead was something cool and smooth, touching her lips teasingly. Curious, she ran her tongue over it. Recognizing it as a cherry, she drew it in gently. The warmth of her mouth enveloped the smooth, juicy fruit as she bit into it. Somehow Michael had managed to take the pit out, and as she chewed the cherry, it released its fragrant essence. Rachel realized that the blindfold had caused her other senses to be hyper-sensitive, but this was really quite an experience; she had never tasted anything so delicious.
Just as she was remembering that there were other people in the room, Michael’s tongue flicked gently upon her lips. Before she could stop herself, she let out a tiny moan and opened her mouth slightly. With blatant hunger, he pressed his mouth more firmly against hers and began to explore her lips and tongue with his own, delving deeply. In her spinning mind, the heat of his mouth and the scent and taste of cherry made Rachel almost delirious, until she remembered – again – that there was a boardroom full of people in front of her who must be shocked at the spectacle they were witnessing. Knowing she would be fired for this, and dreading the crowd of judging faces, she ripped the scarf from her eyes and looked around. Blinking, she was stunned to find a dark, empty boardroom instead of a gathering of staff waiting to surprise her for her birthday.
There was almost no light in the room; no one would know they were in here. “I sent everyone to Salty’s Pub and told them we were surprising you there for lunch,” Michael said throatily, and she sensed his small, sly grin. In the almost-darkness, she could see him pushing his gorgeous hair out of his eyes as he moved in even closer. His hand brushed her breast almost by accident, sending a jolt of pure heat through her dazed body and mind.
With catlike grace, Michael grabbed the silk scarf out of Rachel’s hand and wrapped his other arm around her, pressing his hand into the small of her back. She found herself being maneuvered backwards, surprising herself by giving up control to go willingly. Her back came to rest up against the closed boardroom door. She felt Michael tying her hands to the door handle with the scarf; it didn’t hurt at all, but surprised her. She could certainly escape if she chose, but she stood stock still, barely breathing. “Trust me,” he whispered.
Closing her eyes and leaning her head back against the door, Rachel wondered what she had gotten herself into. Was this really happening?
In the dark, she could feel Michael’s breath on her neck, and just barely see his eyes glinting in the small amount of light seeping in from underneath the door. She felt his breath now move down her neck to her breast, as he quietly removed her blazer and dropped it with a soft rustle on the floor.
Her breathing deepened as she felt his breath move to her quivering stomach, and waited for his hands to follow suit and respond to her desire. Her back began to arch slightly in anticipation of his touch, but instead she felt his breath on her bare legs. New goose bumps appeared and she gave a little shudder. He still had not intentionally touched her at all, and it was almost more than she could bear. If she was really going to let this happen – was she crazy? – she thought she should enjoy the full experience and maybe take a little control.
Just as she was thinking this, Michael’s warm fingers found her upper thighs and moved her legs apart slightly. Rachel gave a little gasp as she felt him move her skirt up her thighs with one hand and push her panties aside with the other. Of all the days to have ripped nylons, she thought to herself with a grin. As she stood trembling, leaning against the door, she finally slipped her hands free from the scarf, reaching her hand down to feel Michael’s soft, thick hair as his tongue began to explore her most personal realm. My God! The sensation of his tongue in the hot, dark space was overpowering. With one hand holding her skirt, he used the other to pull her panties taut against her thigh and run his fingers along the same tender places his tongue was exploring. Never before had Rachel had anyone make her feel so desirable, like an exotic land to explore and conquer; never before had she even entertained thinking about sex in this way.
Suddenly, she realized that she was hearing a soft humming emanating from Michael’s mouth, which corresponded to the increased vibration building up at her core now. And she felt a smooth, hard presence on her clit, which was vibrating along with Michael’s humming. It was something she’d never felt before, a unique sensation that she’d never even read about or heard about. Who would have guessed that Michael had a tongue ring? She thrilled with the heightened sensitivity that pulsating ring was giving her, wondering how he’d thought of humming while using his tongue ring to give her this ecstasy.
Michael’s tongue and fingers began to move rhythmically, titillating her engorged womanhood inside and out, until she could barely keep from crying out. She stifled gasp after shuddering gasp with a hand clenched over her mouth, the other pulling on Michael’s hair. She had no time for shame or worry about colleagues; the sensations racking her whole body were all-consuming. Waves of intense pleasure were building up and threatening to engulf her. Just when she thought she’d lost all control, she climaxed with a spectacular sensation like none she’d ever before experienced. The rapturous explosion was enough to make her scream out, and she bit her hand hard to muffle the cry, trying to keep from attracting attention from outside the room.
Still in the dark, Rachel was breathing heavily and damp with sweat. She felt Michael gently replace her panties and skirt, as her heartbeat began to settle down. His voice sounded close to her ear, “Happy Birthday, Rachel,” he said quietly. Still too stunned to speak, she let him quietly slip out the door.
She stood alone in the dark boardroom for what seemed like hours, willing her racing mind – and blood – to calm down. Finally, she adjusted her blouse and picked up her discarded blazer, putting it back on and tying her scarf around her neck in what she hoped was a neat and orderly fashion. She waited another few minutes for good measure and turned on the boardroom lights, stepping out of the room as if she had just entered it to find it empty. She did her best to plaster an innocent look on her face and walked with purpose down the hall towards her office.
Just as she turned the corner, the elevator opened and her work associates came filing out, looking at her with surprise. “Rachel!” someone shouted. “We were expecting you down at the pub!”
Her assistant carried a box into her office, followed by a horde of excited office employees and associates. Placing the box down on her desk, he cu
ed everyone and they began singing Happy Birthday to her. It was at that moment that she realized that the melody was the same that Michael had been humming.
Temporarily thrown off by the subtle reminder of her recent encounter, Rachel smiled shyly and said her thank yous, apologizing for having a last-minute working lunch and missing her own birthday surprise at the pub. She gathered her wits and regained her authority, sending everyone back to work after enjoying a piece of cake. She ate a piece, too…suddenly feeling ravenous for the first time in years.
Rachel buried herself in her work all afternoon, trying to keep her mind off of her lunchtime adventure and focused on completing the final arrangements for tomorrow night’s Gala.
Everything from seating plans to flowers to donor speeches had been meticulously planned. It was going to be flawless, and the crowning touch would be Rachel’s surprise of having ten of the recipients – very ill, but very excited children from the nearby Children’s Hospital – joining the donors on stage to express their sincere thanks.
With a start, Rachel realized she hadn’t had time to even think about what she would wear to the evening event. As the organizer, she could expect to be introduced to many important people, as well as to make a speech, and she needed to look the part. She needed a spectacular, unforgettable gown.
Ever the dedicated professional, Rachel completed all her tasks for the day meticulously, and left late as usual, but with a determination to do whatever it took to find a gown for the Gala before the evening was done. She passed Eric Randall’s office as usual on her way out, and just as her heel clicks were echoing down the hall, she heard a sarcastic-sounding snicker from within.
“Not long now, my friend!” she heard Eric say, then, “Hold on…”
Startled into freezing, Rachel quickly started walking again when Eric came to his door and said “Oh, hello, Rachel. Leaving so soon?” with his usual charming grin…but was there something else in his eyes?
“Yes! Good night!” was all she could think of to say as she hurried down the hall and pushed the elevator button several times, pretending to look for something in her purse…anything to avoid looking back at Eric.
She needn’t have worried. His office door had already been swiftly closed.
Rachel dropped into her favorite boutique just off 5th Avenue, with only half an hour to spare before they closed. A magnificent, red, slinky gown caught her eye as she entered, but it was too bold for the Gala. Not professional enough.
“Ms. Forrester!” gushed Angelica, the saleswoman who had a gift for making her customers feel both fabulous and not quite special enough all at the same time. “What can we do for you this evening?”
Rachel explained that she needed something elegant and classy, with a little flair, for her affair the next evening. After clucking about the lack of time, Angelica brought choice after choice for Rachel to try, chattering obsequiously as Rachel modelled each one, telling her it was the BEST she’d ever seen anyone look in that gown.
Nothing was working. Little black dress? Too short. Long peach with taffeta? Too…Texas Prom Queen.
Finally, Rachel decided to get a little daring and asked to try the red, sparkly, slinky dress that had caught her eye as she entered. It shimmered in the store lights in a most alluring way as Angelica carried it over…almost as if it was smiling at Rachel.
“Oh, my. Too risqué!” said Angelica with what could only be considered a scowl as she helped her into the dress. “This is not a gown meant for a professional evening, if you know what I mean.”
Yet as she slipped the gown on, Rachel felt transformed, laid bare to her very female essence. The effortless slinky way it fit made her feel sexier than she’d ever felt (well, except for the incident earlier today in the boardroom…), and when she turned around to look at herself in the full length mirror, Rachel was amazed. The dress was breathtaking. SHE was breathtaking. The flush in her cheeks from her memory of the boardroom combined with the way that the gown hugged her every curve gave her a wanton look that seemed to nearly send off sparks. Can I really wear this? Rachel thought to herself.
She knew it was a little – ok a lot – over the top for a charity Gala, but isn’t it important to feel good when one is in the spotlight? Plus, Michael might be tempted to peel this off you like you’re a ripe, juicy fruit, a little voice in the back of her mind said. She felt a rush of heat as she tried to push that thought away.
“I’ll take it!” she declared to the obviously disapproving Angelica.
It was Friday, the day of the Gala, and Rachel was ready. The only thought that clouded her mind was her recollection of the strange way Eric Randall had been behaving lately. Once her mentor and close guide in everything work-related, he had been distant lately; very distracted. But then, she’d been busy herself, so she could be reading things in the wrong way.
But what about the conversations she’d overheard? Why did she feel all these sneaking suspicions about a man she had only recently thought was almost god-like?
Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on her door and the delicious smell of her usual morning pick-me-up. “Coffee, Ms. Forrester?” said Michael, as he flashed a disarming smile that threatened to overwhelm her precarious state of mind. She decided it was best to act as if nothing had ever happened.
“Thanks, Michael,” she said. “I’ll see you tonight at the Gala?”
“Actually, no. I have another event to attend,” Michael replied, and Rachel found herself surprisingly disappointed.
“But I’m wearing a VERY special dress. You’re missing out!” she blurted, and instantly wished she hadn’t.
“I’m sorry I’ll miss that,” Michael replied, and his eyes flickered with sincerity just before he turned and left. Me too, Rachel thought to herself as she watched him walk away.
Now that the evening had arrived, Rachel wasn’t sure how she felt. She gazed out at the streets as her chauffeured car drove through the misty darkness. The city lights created beautiful designs as they shone in the wet streets, reflecting a riot of festive color into the night.
Rachel was beautifully dressed and ecstatic that all her hard work was about to pay off, so why didn’t she feel happy? The gnawing in the pit of her stomach was only getting worse, and all of her unanswered questions swam in her mind. Would Eric Randall’s behavior this evening show telltale signs of whether he was corrupt or not? Would she catch a knowing glance or two between Eric and his cronies? Would the press give equal play to the Randall Agency Gala and the Welland Enterprises Gala? Would the fundraising numbers eventually tell a story Rachel might not want to hear?
Rachel’s car slowed in traffic as she passed the Welland Enterprises charity event, where she could see glamorous people arriving with smiles on their faces, and presumably large pocketbooks as well. Time seemed to slow for a moment as she took in the crowd of partygoers, all dressed to the nines. Was Welland really the wonderful, altruistic company it purported to be, she wondered? And who would carry on Philip Welland’s vision now that he was getting ready to retire, as rumors suggested?
Returning to the present moment, Rachel thought about her own Gala and fervently hoped it would be a resounding success; that people would be generous, making the Wish Granted Foundation proud and cementing her company’s reputation as a philanthropic force in the industry. The seats sold for the dinner had already brought in substantial donations, but it was the evening’s auctions along with ongoing donation requests in the speeches that would bring out the bigger dollars – or not.
Rachel crossed and uncrossed her legs apprehensively as her car glided through the evening, and even that little gesture reminded her of Michael, and that he would not be attending. Such a pity, she thought; her legs were exceptionally smooth and sleek this evening, shown only through the high racy slit in the gown when she moved just so.
The evening was going smashingly. All the right people were there, and the key benefactors were as generous with their donations as Rachel could h
ave hoped. The guests appeared to be having a fabulous time, and Rachel was overjoyed, as the event seemed to carry off without a hitch. She moved through the crowd graciously, greeting guests and sharing stories. She felt lit up, excited and vital, blessed to be contributing to such a worthy cause in a meaningful way. She knew the money raised would be going directly to bring comfort and joy to the children, and hopefully funding research to help find cures for their illnesses as well. If Rachel had any nagging doubts about Eric Randall, they were relegated to the back of her mind as she focused on continuing to ensure everything ran smoothly.
And it was running smoothly…until suddenly it wasn’t. The Wish Granted Foundation children were on stage, a little overwhelmed by the thundering applause from the audience members, many of whom were openly crying. Then a terrible thing happened. The ballroom doors burst open, and police and security guards rushed in, guns brandished. Following them closely were a woman and a number of well-dressed men who looked more like business people. What in the hell is going on? Rachel thought frantically, as guests screamed and some ducked for cover.
The armed police and security personnel made their way quickly to the head table where Eric Randall sat with his wife and several key industry players. While the entire room looked on in astonishment, Randall was jerked to his feet and hand-cuffed. Although Rachel couldn’t hear what the officers were saying, it seemed pretty obvious that Eric Randall was being arrested for something. Was she really seeing this?
Just then, a loud feedback screech came from the stage as a suited man took the microphone. Having been temporarily stunned into stillness, Rachel now quickly got into gear and moved towards the stage. As she was about to demand answers, the man on stage spoke into the microphone. “Ladies and gentleman,” he began. “We apologize for interrupting your evening.” Rachel could only stand and listen along with everyone else.
Unspoken Desires (Naughty at Noon - Rachel and Michael Book One) Page 2
