by Madison, Mia
An imagine flashed through my head: Sierra wearing that sexy, midriff-baring top and those little shorts. She’d looked so damn good I’d almost made the repair job last longer than it needed to. But it had been hot as hell out there, and though I liked the idea of making her sweat, in my fantasy, it didn’t involve an ancient air conditioning unit between us.
Me: Glad to hear it. But that unit still has to be replaced at some point. Shit, how’d we get back onto G-rated topics? Clearly, I was out of practice.
Sierra: So, if you don’t talk to all new employees this way—and from a legal perspective, that’s probably a good thing—why me?
Good question. I leaned back in my chair, my phone in one hand, my feet up on my desk. A very good question. I thought about it for a moment. You’re different.
I suppose I didn’t know her well enough to say that for certain, but it rang true to me. I’d never met such a strong-willed young woman. She a puzzle, she was a mystery, and I very much wanted to learn more.
She seemed to echo my thoughts: You don’t even know me.
Me: You forgot to say “yet.”
Sierra: Okay, you don’t know me yet.
Me: But I like what I know of you so far.
Sierra: Let’s see… you know that I live in a house that’s falling apart.
Me: I know that you speak your mind. I know that you’re smart. I know you’re going to be an asset to your team… and I know I haven’t quite got you figured out yet.
There was a hesitation, and I pictured her sitting at her desk, her long blonde hair spilling over her shoulders as she looked at her phone, trying to decide what to say. God, I needed to run my fingers through her hair soon.
Sierra: That phone call where I spoke my mind was the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to me.
Me: You shouldn’t think of it that way.
Sierra: Are you crazy? Would you be willing to shout details of your sex life to a perfect stranger?
Me: Sure—except in my case, it would probably be construed as bragging.
Sierra: Clearly you are crazy. Because for normal people, that kind of thing is highly embarrassing.
Me: Why? The way you told him/me off was incredible. You sure as hell let him have it. You were strong as hell. Why is it so hard to believe that someone might admire that in a woman?
Sierra: But I told you… things. Details about what he and I had done together.
Me: Doesn’t sound like he was all that good at those things.
Sierra: He wasn’t.
Me: So if he was bad in bed, why are you the one who’s embarrassed?
Sierra: Because I talked about my sex life in front of my new boss! Why is that so hard to understand?
The grin on my face widened. It was fun sparring with her. As I’d suspected, she could definitely hold her own.
Me: If bosses didn’t want their employees to have sex lives, I doubt anyone would work for them.
Sierra: But they don’t need to know the details of their employees’ sex lives. It’s highly unprofessional.
Me: And fun.
Sierra: Can you hear me rolling my eyes from there?
Me: Actually, yes I can. But what’s the harm here? So I overhead you on that phone call. All it told me is that you’re a strong, passionate woman who knows what she wants. And has a dirty mind.
Sierra: I’m not actually sure I know what I want. And how would you know if I have a dirty mind?
Me: I just do. A woman who was that fiery and passionate on the phone has got to be fiery and passionate in bed, too.
Sierra: You don’t know that.
Me: I’ll prove it to you.
Sierra: Not a chance.
This time, I was the one who rolled my eyes. Not like that. See? You do have a dirty mind. And as I said, I can prove it.
Sierra: How?
Me: By giving you an assignment. Are you at your desk?
Sierra: Yes.
Me: Find something around the office that could be used by a dirty-minded individual during sex.
Sierra: What, are there hidden sex toys in the copy room?
I chuckled. I loved that she hadn’t even hesitated—she’d just fired her response back at me. I meant an everyday item that could be used for a naughty purpose. You have five minutes to find it and put it in the locker downstairs.
Sierra: That’s not a lot of time!
Me: Then I suggest you hurry.
To be on the safe side, I gave her ten minutes. I didn’t want to show up while she was down there. That might freak her out. But I couldn’t wait any longer than that—I was dying to know what she’d put down there.
As I jogged down the steps, it occurred to me that maybe she didn’t want to play along. Maybe the locker would be empty. But I dismissed that possibility as soon as I thought of it. She was into this, I could tell. Sierra was my long-legged warrior-princess, and I knew she was up to the challenge.
I opened the door to locker seventeen and grinned. She hadn’t let me down. Holding the wooden ruler in both hands, I bent it slightly. It had a little give to it—perfect for spanking.
The imagine in my brain made me instantly hard. Sierra bent over the back of a sofa, her back arched, her bare ass turning pink as I brought the ruler down against her soft skin. In my fantasy, she was wearing heels, making her long legs look even longer. In between smacks I stroked the back of her thighs with my hands as she wiggled against me, begging me to take her. She flipped her hair over her shoulder, turning her head, her blue eyes pleading with me to give her what she wanted. And I would—when I was ready. If she thought I’d be a pushover in the sack like her asshole ex-boyfriend, then she’d soon learn otherwise.
But somehow, I doubted she thought that.
Soon, I hoped I’d find out for real.
I took the stairs slowly on the way back, trying to purge my mind of those delicious thoughts. Going back to the office with an erection tenting my pants was a bit too far even by my standards.
Just outside the door to our floor, I slid the ruler in my back pocket and pulled out my phone.
Me: Nice job.
8
Sierra
At work the next day, I kept wondering about what Ian had thought of the ruler I’d left in the locker. He’s said nice job, but then he had to take a business call. Or so he said. I half suspected that he’d done that just to keep me wondering.
If that was his plan, it worked. All evening last night, I’d been distracted, responding a second too late when my roommates asked me something. Once I got into bed, all I could think about was Ian standing over me, making me turn over so that he could smack the ruler against my ass. In my fantasy, after every two or three smacks he’d dip his fingers between my legs, and…. Let’s just say it was a really good fantasy. One that gave me a lot of pleasure before I fell asleep.
I wondered how long he was going to make me wait today before our next round of texting. On some level, I didn’t mind the wait. I liked that he was teasing me by waiting—and I also liked that I knew what he was up to. In some ways, he and I weren’t that different. I supposed dirty minds think alike.
At a little after ten, I got a text.
Ian: I kept thinking about that ruler all night.
Me: Me too.
Ian: It was a good choice. I bet your skin would pink up so nicely if I used it on you.
Me: Well, that thought made my face turn pink.
Ian: That’s a start.
Me: And would I get to use the ruler on you? Not that I wanted to do that, but it was fun to tease him.
Ian: Nah, I don’t play that way. Although if you wanted to use it to measure a certain body part, I don’t think you’d be disappointed.
Ooo. My thighs clenched as I crossed my legs. Our naughty conversation was fun, but unlike him, I was surrounded by people at other desks.
Me: Got any specific body parts in mind?
Ian: Indeed I do, and I’m pretty sure you’re trying to visualize that
body part right now.
He was right, damn him. Not that I wasn’t having fun, but I didn’t want him to know how hot and bothered he was getting me. That wasn’t how this kind of game was played
Me: No comment.
Ian: So you say. Listen, I’ve got to go, but I have something that I may put in the locker a bit later. I’ll text you if I do.
Me: What is it?
I was dying to know, but when he didn’t answer, I got back to work. I may not have had the most productive morning ever, but I sure had a big grin on my face.
* * *
Ah, the joys of being the newest member of a department. It meant that when everyone on my team wanted something better than break room coffee, I got to go fetch it. But truthfully, I didn’t mind. I needed to stretch my legs.
Loaded down with a tray of four cups in one hand and a fifth in the other hand, I decided to take the elevator back up to the office. It took the skills of an acrobat to press the button while juggling all the beverages. The doors were just closing when a deep voice said, “Hold the elevator.”
Automatically, I lurched toward the panel again, intending to press the door open button, but all I managed to do was slosh liquid over the top of the cups. Oops.
A suit-covered arm reached through the doors, forcing them to reopen. Ian stepped in, his hair windswept and his hazel eyes bright. “Good afternoon, Sierra,” he said, stepping around the coffee on the ground.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Callahan.”
He smirked. “You don’t have to call me that. It’s not like I have that ruler on me, so you’re safe in here.”
I felt my cheeks flush, but embarrassment was only part of it. Just being this close to him was getting me excited. I loved the way I had to tilt my head to look up at him. At my height, finding a man so much taller than me was a rarity.
As I watched, Ian’s smug expression turned into something more thoughtful. He reached past me and pressed the emergency stop button. The elevator immediately stilled as I looked up at him in surprise.
“Do you want me to stop?”
I was confused. “You just did.” And wasn’t an alarm supposed to go off when that happened? I glanced at the panel of buttons. Oh. There was a different one for an alarm.
“Not the elevator, but the stuff with the locker and the texting.”
Surprise flitted through me, and I cocked my head at him. “Why are you asking that now?”
“Because I’ve been having second thoughts, which is a new experience for me. But you’re new here, and you’re learning the ropes, and the last thing you need to deal with is unwanted advances.”
For a moment, I stared at the precariously balanced cups on my tray. “What if it isn’t unwanted?”
“Then that’s a different story. Though it’s still probably not the smartest thing to do.”
“I’m not known for doing smart things,” I said honestly.
“Truthfully, me either,” he said. “But I’ll stop if you want me to.”
My voice was quiet, but firm. “I don’t want you to.”
“Are you sure?” He stuck a hand in his pocket, looking effortlessly hot in his dark gray suit. “As I said, second thoughts aren’t usually in my nature. Sometimes when I get focused on… something, I tend to forget to forget things like boundaries.”
“I’ll let you know if you’ve crossed any,” I said. “But to be honest… I think it’s fun. And that’s something I haven’t had in a long while.”
He studied me carefully. “Because of your ex?”
“Yeah,” I said, unsure how much I wanted to say about that. “And me. The last few months I felt like I kind of lost my way. Lost myself, actually. I wasn’t true to myself and in the end, that did more damage than that asshole I was dating. Now I want to be me again, and I like to have fun. It’s part of who I am—or at least part of who I used to be.”
“Good,” he said with a genuine smile. He reached out and started the elevator. We started going up but after a few seconds Ian reached out and stopped it again.
The elevator lurched to another halt. One of the coffees overflowed again, and I stepped back out of the way.
“Shit,” Ian said. “Sorry. Let me hold that.”
I handed it to him wordlessly, curious about why he’d stopped again. But for the moment, he was silent, staring at the tray while I held the remaining cup on my hand.
At last, he shook his head. “I lied the other day. It’s not a huge deal, but when you said that you wanted to be yourself, it made me want to come clean.”
“About what?” I asked, baffled. We hadn’t known each other for very long—what had he lied about?
He sighed. “About how I learned to repair air conditioners. I didn’t work for my father during high school. He can’t do anything with his hands besides sign contracts. I actually worked for a teacher of mine, Mr. Hanson.”
Ian took a step back and leaned against the wall of the unmoving elevator. His gaze was focused inward, or perhaps on the past. “He taught social studies and was also my baseball coach for the first few years of high school. But then he had to quit coaching to get a second job. He had three kids, and the youngest was in a wheelchair and on a ventilator, so his wife had to stay at home. The out-of-pocket medical bills were astronomically high, and I’m sure his teaching salary didn’t stretch very far. When he started a small business repairing air conditioners on the side, I told him I wanted to learn how to do that.”
Ian paused for a moment, still seeming lost in the past. “He needed the help and didn’t question it much. My parents were pissed though. They thought I was wasting time I could have used to study or get a real internship. But I liked working with my hands and figuring out what made things tick. So I learned as much as I could, and eventually, I was able to take some calls on my own and that freed him up to help more at home.”
For the first time since I’d met him, I wasn’t focused on his appearance. Instead, I was imagining the boy he’d been fifteen years ago. Probably tall and lanky back then before he’d filled out. And spending his weekends helping a teacher who really needed help. “Why did you lie? You should be proud that you helped out like that.”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s not something I tell everyone. In fact, I can’t remember the last person I told about it. I know it’s not something to hide, but, well, it’s also not something that has much bearing on my life now.”
“Well, I agree, your years doing A/C repair don’t have to be on your resume, but they don’t have to be a secret.”
His smile was wry. “I meant it doesn’t have much bearing on who I am now. Not sure if you’ve noticed, but I tend to like fun, too. Often at the expense of everything else. In my penthouse, I have a hot tub, a huge collection of old video arcade games, and a 92-inch tv screen. I haven’t done anything altruistic in years.”
His obliviousness made me smile. “Which is another lie.”
“What do you mean?” Ian looked honestly puzzled.
“You helped my roommates and I on Saturday.”
“What about it?”
“So that was altruistic of you, unless Tyler told you we were all rich heiresses or something.
Ian looked bemused. “Yeah, I guess it was.”
I laughed. He was the boss, and he was older, taller, and far more successful than me, but somehow, I felt we were more on equal footing now. I knew more about him than I had before, including the fact that there was a good man underneath that outrageously sexy exterior. “Come on, the coffee’s getting cold.” Since I had a free hand, I pressed the button to start the elevator.
When we parted ways, I felt a lightness in my step. Our secret game would feel even more intimate now that I knew more about him.
And speaking of that game, it resumed less than an hour later. Ian texted out of the blue with no mention of our elevator encounter, but that was okay. I wasn’t likely to forget it any time soon.
Ian: There’s something in the locker for y
ou—if you’re brave enough to get it.
My pulse spiked as I considered the implications of that statement. What does that mean?
Ian: It’s something for you to put on.
Me: Some kind of clothing?
Ian: You’ll see. It’s down there now along with some instructions.
I frowned. What if he wanted me to put on a very short skirt or something? I wasn’t ready for him to see me like that.
Ian seemed to sense my hesitation. Don’t tell me you’re too scared to even go see what it is?
Me: Of course not.
Ian: I didn’t think so. Text me afterwards.
Once again, I descended the back stairwell. It was funny how each time I went down there, I was more and more excited. Our little game was a lot of fun.
Locker seventeen contained a black and white sheet of paper will little designs on it. At first, I thought they were stickers, but then I spotted printed instructions in the corner. They were temporary tattoos.
Ian had written instructions, too, in his now-familiar handwriting. Choose one and apply it somewhere on your body—any place you want. Then send me a picture.
My heart did an excited little flip flop. A picture was certainly upping the stakes in our game quite a bit.
My phone chimed.
Ian: Did you see them?
Me: Yes.
Ian: Which one are you going to pick?
I studied the sheet again. There were hearts, flowers, swirls, and other designs. Not sure yet.
Ian: Any of them would look good on you.
Me: Where should I put it?
Ian: That’s completely your choice. It could be your arm, your inner thigh, your forehead if that’s how you wanted to spend the rest of your day. Ladies’ choice.
Hmm… I still couldn’t quite determine the level of naughtiness of the game. The lady would like for you to narrow it down a bit.
Ian: Okay. Put it somewhere you’d like for me to touch.
Me: That doesn’t narrow it down at all. Yep, I’d just admitted that I wanted my boss to touch me everywhere.
