Serving Mr. Stevens, Part One: The Contract -- An Erotic Romance (Part 1 of 5)

by Nathan Stratton

  And just like that, all my self-confidence vanished. I felt my eyes welling up with tears. Of course he wasn’t flirting with you, I scolded. What would a man like him want with a woman who looks like this? Shuddering, I turned away from the mirror and slouched down on the wooden bench, resting my head against the cold metal locker. I felt utterly dejected. I had no business with a guy like Mr. Stevens, and I knew it.

  I pulled myself together and grabbed my purse. I’d decided it was time to go home and drown my sorrows with a bottle of wine.

  But just as I was about to leave, I heard a noise from around the corner. It sounded oddly like… a footstep. I froze.

  “Hello?” I said hesitantly. “Anyone there?” No one was supposed to be back here; you needed a key to get in, and all my co-workers were still out front in the shop. I slowly looked around, listening carefully for any noise. Dead quiet.

  The dimly lit locker room was creepy enough on a good day, and in my current state of mind it seemed borderline scary. It’s about time to get out of here anyway, I thought to myself.

  Suddenly, out of nowhere, a hand roughly closed around my mouth.

  I was too shocked to scream. In an instant, I was being pushed up against the cold metal locker, my hands forced behind my back. I tried to turn around and see who was behind me, but a strong hand held my head in place.

  “You said you’d call me,” a voice growled in my ear.

  My eyes shot wide open. It’s Mr. Stevens, I realized. I was so shocked that I quit struggling. My body was screaming with adrenaline. I heard a low chuckle behind me as he felt me stop fighting him. I was breathing fast and hard, my breasts pushed against the cold metallic locker.

  “I see you recognize me, Candace.” He didn’t let go of my arms, but he wasn’t hurting me either. “And I can see that you’re enjoying this.”

  I made a small surprised noise as I realized he was right. I was scared, yes, but there was an undeniable arousal simmering deep within me. Oh my God, I thought, this is just like my fantasies. I could feel the warm hardness of his manhood pressing into my backside, and I smelled the scent of his cologne mixed with sex and anticipation. Instantly I felt myself go wet between my legs. As if he sensed my hunger, he pressed even closer against me, his hot breath snaking into my exposed ear. I closed my eyes, savoring the feeling.

  “You’re loving this,” he whispered. “Aren’t you, Candace?” I nodded, helpless to deny him. “There’s a good girl,” he purred. “And if I take my hand away, are you going to scream?” I shook my head.

  “Good.” He released his hand from my mouth, and slid his fingers down my throat towards my breast. I heard a low moan from somewhere far away, and then realized it had come from within me.

  He ran his hand slowly down my body, flicking my hardened nipple with his thumb as he traced over my breast. He explored my curves languorously, as if my body belonged to him and only him. His hand came to a rest just at the top of my jeans.

  “Now, Candace,” he said, “perhaps I didn’t make myself clear this morning. When I tell you to do something, I expect you to obey. And if you don’t…”

  SMACK! I yelped as I felt a hard, stinging pain across my buttocks. I flinched and squirmed, but with his left hand still firmly holding my wrists, there wasn’t much I could do.

  “…There will be consequences,” he finished. “Do you understand me now?”

  I whimpered, but stayed otherwise silent.

  SMACK! Another hard slap across my backside. He jerked on my wrists, causing me to half-stumble. He leaned his mouth directly next to my ear. “You will speak when you’re spoken to,” he hissed. “I asked you a question. Do you understand me?”

  “Yes,” I said, wincing as he tightened his grip on my wrists even further.

  “Yes, what?” he asked me, a threatening tone in his voice. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him raise his hand, prepared to spank me again if I didn’t satisfy him.

  “…Yes, sir,” I said finally.

  He smiled. “That’s more like it.” He placed his hand tenderly on my ass, rubbing it gently as if to soothe away the pain he’d just inflicted. It was the most basic system of punishment and reward, but right now, boy, was it was working on me.

  Still rubbing my ass, he guided my hands down to his groin and placed them on his member. I could feel the outline of it straining through his cotton slacks; it felt even bigger and harder than it had a moment ago. I hadn’t been with a man in months, and just feeling his hard shaft through his pants was making me ravenous with desire. All I could think about was unbuttoning his pants and taking him into my mouth.

  Clearly, he had similar ideas for me. Before I knew what was happening, he’d dropped his hand from my wrists and forced me onto my knees. In one swift motion, he pulled open his belt and pushed my head towards him. “Suck,” he commanded. I hungrily obliged, undoing his fly and guiding him into my mouth. I made a low, guttural noise of satisfaction as my lips slid down his stiff length. The moan I heard above me only encouraged me to continue. I greedily sucked him, working the base of his shaft with my hand and rubbing my tongue all around his tip. He grabbed a handful of my hair in his hand, holding on to me firmly as I pleasured him. I was doing things to him I’d only dreamed of, and I was loving every minute of it.

  As I ramped up the intensity and pace, his moaning became quicker and more urgent. Finally, he pulled my head off of his member. I whimpered, disappointed. “Not yet,” he said. “I don’t want to come yet. I have other plans in mind for you. Stand up.”

  I hastily obeyed, rising to my knees and looking up into his smoldering blue eyes. The passion I saw there scared me a bit, but mostly it just turned me on even more. “Turn around,” he commanded. Before I even knew what was happening, he’d yanked my pants down around my knees. Off-balance, I fell towards the locker and caught myself with my hands. In this prone position, I was completely at his mercy, and we both knew it. He grabbed my body possessively, and with a guttural noise of unchecked desire he entered me from behind. I was so wet from our encounter that he slid all the way in without the slightest hint of resistance. Uncontrollably, I let out a deep moan of pleasure. I felt like an empty vessel that had just been filled up to the brim. It was ecstasy to feel him inside me.

  He began thrusting hard against me, my body being pushed against the wall with every stroke. I’d dreamt of being taken like this, but had never imagined that it would actually happen. You know that old saying, “would you rather ‘make love’ or ‘fuck’?” Well, this felt like both at once. I bit back screams of pleasure as he continued to pound me against the wall. I knew I wouldn’t last long at this rate. What put me over the edge completely was when he lowered his mouth onto my neck and bit me there, firmly, holding on like an animal in heat as he continued to crash into me from behind. From there, it was the point of no return. The cries I’d been suppressing came out of me all at once, at the mounting orgasm suddenly exploded through me in a rush of pleasure. I came harder than I can remember, the intensity of it turning my brain to mush. Simultaneously with my own orgasm, I felt him stiffen inside me, and his grip on my body became even harder. He pulled out and whirled me around, forcing me down on my knees in my still-delirious state. All I could focus on was his hot, throbbing stiffness, still dripping with my juices, as I took him willingly into my mouth. Almost instantaneously, he came as hard as I did, sending wave after wave of thick semen into my mouth as I felt his member quiver and spasm. I swallowed every drop of him, then delicately took him out of my mouth and collapsed on the bench, my chest heaving with heavy breaths.

  But my respite was destined to be short-lived. Mr. Stevens buttoned his slacks and straightened himself up in a matter of seconds, suddenly looking every bit like the distinguished executive I’d seen that morning in the coffee shop. He looked down at me, all trace of tenderness gone from his demeanor.

  “Get up,” he said authoritatively, “and clean yourself up now. You are to report to my office at 9 o’clo
ck tomorrow morning. I still intend to discuss the proposition I have for you. And Candace – don’t disobey me this time. I can assure you that you won’t enjoy the consequences.”

  I stared up at him, trying to process everything that had just happened as quickly as I could. It was too overwhelming, and I just stared up at him dumbly, my eyes wide. His own eyes narrowed in response.

  “Did you hear me?” he asked. “I expect an answer, Candace.”

  Finally, I came to my senses. “Yes, sir,” I replied.

  “Good girl.” He turned on his heel, and left without another word. I collapsed in a heap on the floor as soon as he was gone.

  Candace, Candace, Candace, I thought to myself. What have you gotten yourself into now?

  Chapter 3: The Sixty-Sixth Floor

  The next morning, I walked into the Stevens building as usual – except that this time, instead of using the back entrance reserved for coffee shop employees, I walked right into the gleaming, marble-tiled main lobby of the building.

  This building was a throwback to the old classic style of construction, with all the fancy period details, but updated with the latest technology and a sleek, modern atmosphere. The lobby had a separate area reserved solely for the elevators to the top floors. There was no concierge, no phone, not even any buttons on the elevator.

  No nothing, in fact. That’s weird, I thought. I glanced at the business card I was clutching in my hand, then looked at my watch. 8:52 AM. My eyes traveled down to the outfit I was wearing: a navy blazer over a gray skirt, with a white satin blouse and black heels. Except for the blouse, I’d rushed out and bought everything the night before. It had been a long, long time since I’d needed any sort of business attire, and there was no way in hell I was showing up to Mr. Stevens’ office wearing the ratty old jeans and T-shirt from the previous day.

  I hesitated a moment, staring at the elevator doors as if I half-expected Mr. Stevens to jump out from behind them. I hadn’t slept well that night. I was too antsy from the prospect of this meeting, and from all the questions floating around my mind. I’d absolutely loved what had happened yesterday in the locker room – physically, anyway. But mentally, I wasn’t sure I was prepared for it; in fact, I wasn’t even sure what “it” was. That was only the first in a long, long list of questions I had for Mr. Stevens. We hadn’t done much talking yesterday, but today I wanted to find out some answers.

  And the first step in that process, of course, was dialing the number on Mr. Stevens’ business card. I stared down at the card, trying to pump myself up for what I was about to do. Finally, I took a deep breath and just went for it, hitting DIAL with a shaking thumb.

  “Henrickson and Stevens,” said a perky female voice on the other end, picking up after the first ring. “President’s office.”

  “Uh, hi,” I said, a bit surprised. I’d expected to hear Mr. Stevens on the other end. “I’d like to speak with Mr. Stevens, please?”

  “May I ask who’s calling?” replied the voice, even more sweetly. Something about her fake, saccharine tone made me instantly dislike her. I was picturing a buxom young babe – probably some piece of eye-candy to decorate the office with. Oh my God, I thought to myself. Am I actually jealous?

  I shook away the thought. “Tell him it’s Candace,” I said.

  “Hmm, Candace,” she said – somewhat snidely, I felt. “I don’t see anyone by the name of Candace in our register. May I inquire as to the nature of your business with Mr. Stevens?”

  I was a little put off by her holier-than-thou tone, but I kept my cool. “Well, he asked to see me,” I said. “He said he had a… proposition for me.”

  The voice went flat. “Did he, now. All right, one moment.” Click.

  I was on hold for twenty or thirty seconds, listening to some orchestral piece I recognized but couldn’t name. I assumed she was transferring me to Mr. Stevens, and I was imagining the two of them discussing me while I waited here on hold. Taking deep breaths, I tried to calm my jangling nerves and prepare myself for a conversation I wasn’t sure I wanted to have.

  But when the music stopped, it wasn’t Mr. Stevens’ voice I heard. It was the same woman as before. “Hello, Candace?” she said. “Mr. Stevens will see you now.”

  I paused, taken aback. This was it; this was the moment. But I felt myself getting cold feet. “…Now?” I gulped.

  “Yes, of course,” replied the voice. “Are you currently in the building?”

  Come on, Candace, you can do this, I encouraged myself. “Uh, yes,” I said hastily. “Yes I am. I’m uh, just standing by the elevators. I don’t see any buttons or anything.”

  She laughed, and I heard a distinct note of condescension in her voice. “Why, then come on up, silly! The doors will open automatically, you know. Just walk right in.”

  I blushed, feeling stupid. “Oh, right,” I managed.

  “Very well, then,” she said, in a patronizing tone. “Just come up to Floor 66, and we’ll see you shortly – assuming you don’t get lost on the way up, that is!” Click.

  Shocked, I stared indignantly at the phone in my hand. I couldn’t wait to meet this bitch.

  Strangely, the confrontational tone of the conversation had made me feel more self-confident. This receptionist had no reason to be acting that way; the only reason I could think of is that she was jealous of me. The thought made me laugh haughtily.

  “You don’t mess with Candace Baker,” I said out loud, and strode confidently into the elevator. No matter what happened, I was going to head into this meeting with my head held high. The doors swung open, and I walked in.

  But as I immediately realized, sixty-six floors is a long way up. In the elevator, I had plenty of time in the elevator to start second-guessing the situation again. Staring into the mirrored walls of the elevator, I anxiously fixed and re-fixed my hair, trying to look braver than I felt. Once or twice, I nearly bailed out and pressed a button for a lower floor. The only thing stopping me from bailing was my profound curiosity, which was outweighing any doubts in my mind. Not to mention, of course, the fact that he already knew I was coming. I just had to see what Mr. Stevens’ proposition held in store for me.

  As the floor numbers climbed higher and higher – 43, 44, 45 – my mind wandered again to the previous afternoon. I couldn’t get the memory of our encounter out of my head. It was hands down the hottest thing that had ever happened to me; I felt like I was the sexiest, most desirable woman alive. I’d come twice the previous night, touching myself while thinking of the way Mr. Stevens had manhandled me in the break room. Just thinking about it now in the elevator was enough to get my motor running all over again. I felt a faint, urgent arousal begin to build between my legs. Not now, Candace, I told myself.

  Finally, I reached the top. The doors slid open to reveal a bright, spacious, exquisitely-furnished professional suite. To my right were floor-to-ceiling windows with an expansive view of downtown Manhattan. It was a breathtaking view.

  And to my left, standing just as prim and properly as I’d imagined, was the receptionist.

  “Candace?” she asked, a sour-lemon smile on her face. Yup, it was her all right. She was dressed in a sharp red blazer, with matching pearls on her necklace and earrings. She looked gorgeous. I thought I’d dressed nicely, but she was putting me to shame.

  “Hi there,” I replied. “Yes, that’s me.” She smiled at me politely, not giving any indication that she was judging my appearance – though I’m sure that’s what was going on in her head.

  “Well, it appears you made it up here without any further trouble,” she said, with a slight laugh that made it impossible to tell if she was laughing with me or at me. I just nodded and stayed silent. She pressed an intercom button on her desk.

  “Mr. Stevens?” she said, still not taking her eyes off me. “Your guest is here.”

  “Send her in,” came the crackling reply. Even through the static of the intercom, I could hear the dominant tone and slight impatience of Mr. Stevens’ bar
itone voice. I’d recognize it anywhere, I realized. Those growled commands from yesterday were already burned into my memory.

  “Right this way, please,” said the receptionist, leading me towards a thick oak-paneled double door. There was no nameplate or label of any kind on the door, but just one look at it was enough to guess the importance of the person behind it. She pushed the door open for me, and then disappeared behind me as soon as I walked through it.

  I found myself in an entryway, sumptuously carpeted in dark red and green, flanked with matching oak panels on both sides. I was staring at another door, just as imposing as the first. This is it, I thought to myself. I went up to the door and knocked, three small hesitant raps. I waited.

  No answer. I wasn’t sure what to do now, exactly. Gathering my courage, I knocked more loudly, an insistent sound that I’m sure was audible in the room beyond. For ten seconds, still nothing. In those ten seconds, I probably had 1,000 frantic thoughts race through my head. I considered just walking out and leaving the building, saying goodbye to Mr. Stevens once and for all. But finally, and with great relief, I heard a voice from within – and when it spoke, all those thoughts racing around my head disappeared in an instant, and I was focused solely on the voice beyond the door.