The Boss of Her

by Julie Cannon

  Ann had continued to talk about Jess almost every time we were together. Like I needed any reminders. I finally had to tell her to shut up when she started telling me, in graphic detail, the fantasy dreams she’d had the night before. Mine were much better.

  Ahead of me I saw the Hilton sign lit up. The lobby was clearly visible through the windows that stretched from the ground to the second floor. Glass and chrome was the décor of choice and everything sparkled.

  I was so busy looking around to see if I recognized anyone, I almost got caught in the revolving door. God, I really needed to calm down and get myself together. The hotel was on the other side of town, so the likelihood of someone recognizing me was slim. I’d thought of a valid cover story but was so nervous I’d probably forget what it was. It was nine thirty in the evening, and other than a few people in line to check in, the lobby was empty.

  To my left was the lounge, and waves of cheering drifted out every time the door opened. There was probably a sports event guests wanted to watch in the company of others and not in their rooms.

  When it was my turn at the counter, I was greeted by a woman about my age but fifty pounds heavier. Her name tag was imprinted with Dolly and her voice and effervescent personality were too much for my frayed nerves.

  “Good evening and welcome to Hilton,” Dolly chirped like I was the very first guest to cross the threshold. “Checking in?” she asked, her fingers poised over the keyboard.

  I gave her my name and slid my driver’s license and credit card across the counter. I’d tried to figure out how I could check in under a different name, but I didn’t have any ID forgers in my contacts. So what if someone tracked it down? I could come up with a dozen plausible excuses for spending the night in a hotel.

  “One key or two, Ms. Stephenson?” Dolly asked, her cheeriness and overly loud voice fraying my already frazzled nerves. Didn’t she know I was meeting a stripper in my room? She needed to keep her voice down. She was drawing attention.

  “Two, please, and I’d like to leave one for a friend to pick up later.”

  “Certainly, Ms. Stephenson,” delightful Dolly said. She put the first, then the second gold card into a small box that looked like a miniature ATM machine. Her chubby fingers entered a set of numbers, and when the green light appeared on the display panel, it coughed out the card. While she was making the magic keys, I wrote Jess’s name on the crisp white envelope Dolly had handed me. Without a last name, Jess’s name looked as naked as I felt standing there.

  Dolly handed me one of the cards, sliding the other one in the small paper pouch and writing my room number on it. I put the key for Jess into the envelope, sealed it, and handed it back to Dolly. She couldn’t hide her frown when she saw only Jess’s first name on the envelope. I hadn’t thought about what this could look like—exactly what it was, an illicit assignation.

  Dolly briefed me on the Wi-Fi code, the hours of the gym, and when the buffet opened for breakfast, none of which I was interested in. No way would I be surfing the net, exercising, or staying for breakfast. Thirty minutes after Jess was done, I’d be out of there.

  Somehow, I found my way to the elevators and pushed the button to my floor. I stared at my reflection in the mirrored doors and barely recognized the woman I saw. What was I doing here? I was risking everything to sit in a chair in a hotel room and watch a woman take her clothes off. How weird was that? My boss would have a heart attack if he found out.

  The door clicked open and I stepped inside. Several lights were on, so I didn’t have to stumble around in the dark to find the switch. I had requested a suite and it had cost a small fortune, but it was exactly what I needed. It was tacky to sit on the bed or in the lone straight-backed chair while Jess did her thing in a cramped room.

  The room had a three-cushion couch covered in a dark brown leather. Two matching throw pillows rested against each arm. A coffee table sat in front of the couch, its dark wood gleaming from a recent polish. A Queen Anne chair and an overstuffed recliner completed the seating area. The bedroom was through the doors to my right, the bathroom to my left.

  I sat on the couch and in the two chairs, deciding which one offered the right view. Good God, it sounded like I was watching a basketball game or a movie. I settled on the chair. The couch was too suggestive and I’d have to move the table, which was too calculated.

  If I had a dollar for every time I looked at my watch, I could pay Jess’s five-hundred-dollar fee. It was now only five minutes from our agreed upon time and I was more than a little nervous. My left leg bounced up and down and my hands were sweaty. The knock on the door surprised me and I shot to my feet, almost toppling the chair over. My hand shook as I opened the door.

  Jess was even more stunning than I remembered. And I had definitely remembered. She was wearing a pair of jeans, a blue shirt with buttons down the front, and the boots from Ann’s house. Her smile was genuine, but half hidden by the phone she had pressed against her cheek. Her eyes darkened when she recognized me.

  “Hello, Riley,” she said quietly.

  I remembered the sound of her voice, the husky bedroom just-woke-up quality that had often spoken my name in my dreams. She moved the phone from her face but didn’t hang up.

  “Come in,” I said, glancing over her shoulder as she walked in.

  “I’m in room seven twenty-two.” She pushed an icon on the screen on her phone and glanced across the room. I could tell it met with her approval. She looked back at me before walking through each room, looking under the bed and in the closets. What was that all about?

  “Yes, I’ll call you in an hour.” She ended the call. “Shall we take care of business before we get down to business?” Jess asked, not the least bit embarrassed by the financial transaction about to occur. This was her job, after all.

  I handed her a crisp white envelope with five one-hundred-dollar bills inside. She counted them before slipping it into her bag. “No offense, but I’ve been stiffed before.” She looked me straight in the eye.

  “None taken.” I stood there like an idiot because I really didn’t know what I was supposed to do next.

  Thankfully, Jess took pity on me. “Why don’t you sit down and make yourself comfortable.”

  As I did, Jess pulled two small Bose speakers from her bag and set them on opposite sides of the small room. She pulled the straight-back chair from the desk and placed it in the center of the room. She touched the screen of her phone a few times and the room suddenly filled with music.

  Jess turned her back to me and lowered her head as if she were saying a prayer. How weird would that be?

  Tonight, her jeans were black, but she filled them out just as nicely as she had before. She shifted each shoulder back and forth a few times as if loosening the taut muscles. She did the same with her head and arms. Must be her pre-dance warm-up.

  As the beat picked up, her body started to move and she walked away from me in a slow, seductive strut. I lost all concept of time and my surroundings—everything was all about Jess. It could have been minutes or hours, Jess capturing my complete attention. She turned and grabbed the bottom of her shirt. Slowly, she pulled it from her pants, its long tail falling below her ass. Gyrating her hips, she unbuttoned each of the buttons on her fly, coming closer to me with each step. By the time she was standing in front of me she had her hands inside her waistband and was starting to slide the pants down her legs.

  She bent over at the waist, giving me a glimpse down the neckline of her shirt before turning around again. Her shirt just covered her ass, and a flash of black between her legs caught my attention as she shimmied out of her pants. Keeping her back to me, Jess spread her legs and threw her shoulders back. She put her hands on her ass cheeks and swiveled her ass in a circle. My heartbeat kicked up a notch.

  She unbuttoned her shirt, looking over her shoulder at me once or twice. Yes, Jess, you have my complete attention. When all the buttons were opened, she shrugged and the shirt slid off her shoulders. She turne
d around, holding the shirt closed with one hand as her other hand disappeared under it. Her hand ran from her throat to her crotch several times as her head fell back and her mouth opened.

  Coming close, she put one leg on the armrest of the chair I was sitting in. She bent her knee and, keeping her head up and her shoulders back, leaned into me. Her crotch was no more than five or six inches from my face and I inhaled her. My head started to spin. She repeated the same with her other leg and I had to clench my fists to stop from reaching out.

  She stepped back and moved behind me, her fingers walking up one arm, across my shoulders, and down the other before she walked away, letting her shirt slowly fall down her back. Inch by tantalizing inch, more and more of her back was exposed. I imagined my fingers following the trail of exposed skin. When the shirt dropped to the floor, I almost moaned with relief.

  Jess crossed her arms in front of her and caressed the bare skin of her shoulders. She reached around behind as if unhooking the thin black bra strap, but instead slid her hands down the small of her back, hooking her thumbs under the waistband of her boy shorts. I held my breath. She’d stripped down to her shorts at Ann’s, and I wondered if she’d drop those as well in this private dance.

  Jess turned around, sliding her hands up her stomach and over her lace-covered breasts. I devoured the muscles in her back, the perfect curve of her ass, her long, toned legs when she turned around. Her body was her job and, like most professionals, she wanted the best tools to work with. My eyes followed her hands as they moved over her curves and my anticipation grew as to what was next.

  She pulled the chair in front of her and, standing behind it, slowly leaned over and ran her hands over the fabric. I imagined sitting in the chair, Jess behind me, her warm breath in my ear as she caressed my chest. Holding the back of the chair, Jess slowly sank down, her butt on her heels, knees apart, giving a glimpse of her crotch as she repeated the motion twice more.

  When she stood again, she ran her fingertips up each arm of the chair and across the back. I felt warmth on my skin as if she were touching me. If it was possible to make love to an inanimate object, Jess was doing it. She was simulating sex, but by God, it was arousing. She walked around and turned, showing me her perfect ass. She caressed the seat of the chair, then straddled it and seductively sat down. I imagined her settling onto my face, rocking her hips back and forth. I think I stopped breathing.

  Her hands moved over her stomach and breasts. Her head fell back in ecstasy. Suddenly, she threw her leg over the back of the chair and was facing me. She spread her legs apart, then together twice, using her hands to push them open and closed. She ran her hands up her stomach and she caressed her breasts.

  I wasn’t sure I was breathing. I knew I had to be, but I didn’t think I even knew my name at that point. I was enthralled, entranced, captivated, or whatever word was listed as a synonym in Mr. Roget’s Thesaurus. Jess had maintained eye contact this entire time and if she had been my girlfriend, she would be on her back in the middle of the bed in the next room.

  This was nothing like her performance at Ann’s. If I thought that was hot and sultry, this was off the charts pure, raw sexual seduction.

  The music started to fade and I wanted more, but what more could she do? She was almost as naked as the day she was born and her job was done.

  She ended her routine as she had at Ann’s, by leaning down and kissing me on the cheek. Her breasts were inches from my hands, but I didn’t try to touch them. Touching was forbidden, and I wasn’t about to do anything that would sour our evening together. Or prevent another.

  Again, she smelled like lilacs, and I closed my eyes and reveled in her scent. Her lips were as soft as butterfly wings. My stomach fluttered. When I opened my eyes, she was standing in front of me. Her smile was sweet and she was looking at me closely. She was probably trying to figure out what kind of weirdo I was to request her services, then sit quietly without saying a word or making any gesture to indicate I liked what she was doing. I didn’t smile, whistle, or clap. I didn’t reach out or flirt with her or slide money into her undies.

  Jess gathered up her clothes and closed the bedroom door behind her. The click of the lock was enough to snap me back to the present. I exhaled deeply.

  My body hummed with energy and tension and I felt light-headed when I stood up. Steadying myself with the back of the chair, I walked to my bag and pulled out another envelope. I pulled two bottles of water from the mini-fridge and opened one. The cool liquid felt wonderful sliding down my throat, which was parched from my shallow breathing. I didn’t hear Jess come out of the bedroom but saw her when she picked up one of the speakers.

  She was fully dressed and she looked just as put together as she had when she walked in. I glanced at myself in the mirror above the couch. I didn’t think I looked like I’d had the ride of my life. My insides, however, were a complete and total mess.

  I offered her the other bottle of water as I walked her to the door. Before I opened it, I handed her the second envelope. She glanced at it, then back at me.

  “I hope we can do this again?” I asked, surprising myself. The words just came out of my mouth before I had a chance to think about them. That was so unlike me.

  She frowned slightly as if she were weighing the pros and cons of my statement. For several moments neither one of us moved or said anything else. Finally, she smiled. “I’d like that.”

  My pulse jumped and I pretended to be calm as I opened the door. She hesitated in the doorway before turning to me. “Good night, Riley.”

  Her voice was seductive, and I envisioned her whispering in my ear as she snuggled behind me in bed. My stomach jumped.

  “Good night.” I somehow managed to say. I didn’t immediately close the door, but watched Jess walk down the hall. When she got to the elevators, she didn’t turn to look at me even though she had to have known I was watching her. When she disappeared in the elevator, I closed the door. It was the best thousand dollars I’d ever spent.

  Chapter Five

  The next time I saw Jess was in a different hotel room, and the evening was very much like the one before. The third time, however, was completely new. The music was raw, her moves fast and hard. She was wearing a tailored men’s suit with a blue shirt and red and white striped tie. She looked nothing like the men in my office. But there was no doubt she was in charge. Whoever said a woman in men’s clothes was just flat-out sexy was absolutely right.

  There was nothing slow or tempting about this dance. No teasing, a fleeting glimpse or a preview of what was underneath. Her moves were quick, decisive and deliberate. She unbuttoned her jacket and threw it to the floor, as if it was a claustrophobic barrier. She quickly discarded her trousers and kicked them across the room.

  She danced to the heavy beat, her body moving with pure, primal sex. Her moves were aggressive and possessive, as if she were a jungle cat stalking her next prey. She yanked off the tie, wrapped it around my neck, and pulled the knot tight. Not tight enough to restrict my breathing, but enough to experience what a little bondage might feel like. Being the control freak, I never thought I’d be interested in such a thing, but I was painfully aroused by her simple maneuver.

  Straddling me and sitting on my lap, Jess grabbed my hands and put them on the bottom of her shirt. With her hands over mine, she wrenched it open, sending small white buttons across the room. My pulse skyrocketed at the innuendo that I’d been overcome with desire and ripped it open, exposing the tiny red bra underneath.

  If the other evenings were seductive and tantalizing, this evening was all about control, and there was more than one time I almost lost mine. Jess was dancing with abandon. It was like she was inside the music, tearing away layers to get out.

  I wasn’t sure how much longer I could stand the torture she was putting me through when the music wound down. Jess was covered in a light film of sweat and it was a toss-up who was breathing more heavily. My clit was hard and throbbing and demanding I do somet
hing about it. I wanted to grab Jess’s hand and shove it down my pants. I wanted her to feel how wet she made me. I needed her to slide her fingers inside me, play with my clit until I begged her to make me come. I craved her body over mine, under mine, and wrapped around me.

  But, of course, that only happened in my fantasy later that night, and I tried not to think about it as I walked to my morning staff meeting. I’d seen Jess three more times in six weeks and I was beginning to feel like a regular, which was a little creepy. My bank account felt the impact as well. Did she have other repeat business or was every dance new?

  I stumbled and almost fell flat on my face. That would be a sight for sure. I looked behind me at the culprit and only saw the tiles and grout of the flooring. Jeez. I was tripping over nothing on the floor. That wasn’t surprising. I’d burned myself twice on the iron in the last week, made coffee without putting grounds in the filter, and put a box of cereal in the fridge and the milk in the pantry. The more I saw Jess, the more unhinged I became. But I couldn’t stop. Maybe I had stripper addiction. Is there a twelve-step program for that? Somewhere nestled in the woods, miles from prying eyes and temptation? I had to get it together. First, because I was not myself and people were starting to notice and, second, if Ann had any idea she’d grill me until my skin peeled.

  I looked at my watch. Damn, I was eight minutes late to my meeting. I’d been late to everything lately, which was not like me at all.

  I was having a Town Hall with every employee who reported up to me. At last count, that was 112, and they were all sitting in neat little rows when I walked in.

  “Good morning, I apologize for running a few minutes late. I was waiting for one last piece of updated data for this meeting and it just came in.”

  I said a few more perfunctory comments as I walked up the center of the aisle to the front of the room. Mark, our IT guy, handed me a portable microphone. I clipped the base to my waist and the mic to my lapel.