by Jade Stone
His cock slid up toward my entrance from behind, but he hesitated before entering me. His hand returned to my front, where he found my clit again, circling it with his middle finger. “Do you really want this?” he whispered.
“Yes!” I panted.
I cried out as his cock slid into me, my hand reaching up to grasp his face again. He put his hand over mine on his face, and slid his cock back out, then straight back in. His finger still pressed on my clit, pushing down, making me cry out again.
I leaned toward the mirror, my eyes not leaving his in the reflection through his mask, as he thrusted into me from behind. He fucked me harder, making me double over the dressing table, and I started moaning as his cock kept slamming into me, his hand still working my clit.
I came fast, shuddering over the table. I captured my face in the mirror, contorted in ecstasy, but I wasn’t done yet. I wrestled out from his grasp, releasing myself from his cock, and turned around to face him. He stood before me, his hard on pointing toward me beneath the white shirt of his tuxedo. I undid my dress; it slid to the ground.
I reached out and stroked his face, and his hand met mine. He ran his hand down my arm as I traced his jaw line.
I touched the tip of his mask, and once again he took my hand away. He pulled me into him, kissing me deeply, as I melted into his arms. This man was so familiar, yet still a stranger. His cock met my sex again, and I moaned as he slid back inside me. He hoisted me up around his waist, his hard cock impaling me as he carried me over to the bed. He almost threw me onto the mattress.
The bed was high enough for him to continue standing as he fucked me, thrusting harder and harder into me as I held my legs tight around his waist. My pussy clamped harder around his cock as I felt myself begin to climax again, and we came at the same time as he moaned loudly, filling me with his warm ejaculation. We were both still for a few seconds, catching our breath.
I reached up and stroked his face, my fingers touching the outline of his mask again. This time, he didn’t try to stop me. I gave it a gentle nudge upward, waiting for him to protest, but he didn’t. His mask finally came away in my hand.
In the dark light, the silhouette of a very good looking man looked silently back at me. There was some scarring on his forehead and cheek bones, not terribly, but it was there. It looked like remnants of perhaps bad acne or a skin infection. He did look familiar, but still I could not recollect where from.
“What is your real name?” I whispered, running my fingers over the scars on his face.
He pulled himself out of me and did up his pants. He reached into his pocket and withdrew a business card. He handed it to me. It was too dark to read, and I realised that was his intention.
“Give me a call,” he said. And with that, he was gone.
I lay naked on the bed for a few minutes, trying to get my thoughts together. Part of me thought I should put the card away and look at it in the morning. I should get back downstairs and do what I was there to do—while I was still sober enough. But curiosity got the better of me, and I got off the bed, going straight to the light switch.
My jaw dropped as I saw the name on the card. It jumped out at me, almost hitting me in the face.
I sat back down on the bed, and looked at it again, in shock. How could I ever forget the name Jack Pearson?
Jack Pearson. The overweight, acne ridden, thirteen-year-old boy with braces, whom I had babysat all those years ago. The genius who was already doing university papers. The boy I used to call Angel, because he was such a sweetheart. The boy who gave me a rose the last time I saw him, telling me he was in love with me. The nephew of the business legend, Roger Pearson, the rich powerful uncle I had never met.
I looked at the business card again, this time seeing the title “Vice President” emblazoned under his name.
I knew what my story would be tomorrow, about the twenty-six-year-old, once shy little boy who was all grown up, next in line to run his uncle’s huge corporation.
And we would meet again. Unmasked.
Wedding Bells
My wedding day was not traditional, not in any sense of the word. For starters, we got married at someone else’s wedding. And I wore black. And we’d been engaged for less than an hour before we tied the knot. But my relationship with Jaron had never been traditional. He had been my former boss, and until our wedding day—and night—we hadn’t seen or spoken to each other for three years.
I’ll never forget the day I met Jaron, and it took me some time to decide whether I regretted it or not. I was working as a temp executive assistant, and the day before I had got a call from the temp agency saying I was required to work for some big cheese at an IT company for about three months.
I arrived at my new assignment the next morning, and my new boss kept me waiting in reception for nearly two hours. The receptionist was embarrassed, and kept offering me coffee. I decided I’d wait for two hours—I would be charging for my time—and if he still hadn’t shown up by then I would leave. I had better things to do than wait for some fool who was obviously so full of his own importance he couldn’t even make time to send someone else to meet me. With one minute to go, I stood up to leave, and the doors swung open. A tall man with thick brown hair and wild blue eyes stomped into reception. His eyes settled on me.
“Are you my temp?” he barked.
“I wouldn’t know,” I replied coolly. “My name is Danni Moran and I’m here to see Jaron McLachlan.”
“I’m Jaron,” he snapped. “Follow me.”
He turned around and went back through the swinging doors. I gave the receptionist an odd look, she gave me an embarrassed shrug. A little voice told me not to follow him, but to leave the building, this man was not going to enhance my life in any way. But something drew me through the doors, possibly morbid curiosity or a sense of masochism, or both. I swallowed hard, I had a feeling I was going to regret this.
He was already far ahead of me when I got on the other side, but I made sure I did not hurry after him; I do not hurry after anyone. He didn’t bother to turn around as I followed him all the way to the other side of the open plan office, and as I walked, I noticed heads raising above the partitions to watch me. I noticed the looks between people, the sympathetic stares they gave me. I sighed inwardly; what on earth had I got myself into? But I’d been doing this job for over ten years; big bully executives didn’t faze me.
Being an executive assistant can be an odd job. It is quite a unique job, for a start, you only work at the top of an organisation, because only very senior people have an EA. It can be amazing, or it can be hell, it depends entirely on your boss. Your entire job is centred around that person, and if you don’t get along, then your working life is miserable. If you do get along, it can be very rewarding.
People ask why I do it, and I do it because I love organising and support. I like being part of a big organisation and working at the top, but I have no interest in being accountable for financial results. I do not want that type of responsibility, so I had a choice of either working in human resources or being an EA. To work in HR, it appears you need a prerequisite to be a useless fuckwit, and I wanted no part of that world, so EA it was.
Jaron finally turned around, but he didn’t wait until I was near enough to start talking.
“What’s your name again?” he shouted.
I didn’t answer, I wasn’t shouting across the office. He eyed me as I made my way closer, I saw his lip start to curl, but too bad.
“My name is Danni,” I said when I was close enough.
He shoved a folder into my arms. “I need that in date order in the next hour,” he grunted, pointing at a desk outside his office. “That is where you will sit.”
I put the folder on the desk—my desk.
“Can you speak Japanese?”
“Japanese? No,” I replied. “But I can speak some Portuguese?” I’d once had a Brazilian boyfriend, but I didn’t bring that up.
“Portuguese? That’s of no us
e to me!” He looked me up and down. “Unfortunately, you won’t get a handover,” he said. “I fired your predecessor yesterday; she was a useless bitch. So you will learn this job through trial and error.” He eyed me again. “Except there’s no room for error.”
He stepped into his office and slammed the door. I stood next to my desk for a few seconds, trying to absorb what had just happened. This guy was something else. Part of my job sometimes requires me to be a lion tamer; I shouldn’t have to be, but some people at the top can be rather wild, and they need taming. So far, I’ve never failed. This job was gonna be interesting.
I sat at my new desk. I could still feel many eyes on me. When I raised my head in their direction all the heads lowered back down again. A little man with glasses appeared from around the corner.
“Are you alright?” he whispered.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I replied.
“Erh, sorry about him,” he said, gesturing toward Jaron’s door. “He’s uh, extremely clever,” he continued, “but a bit, hmm, how should I put this...?”
“A bit of an asshole,” I offered.
The little man laughed.
“Well, that’s one way to put it,” he said. “He’s actually not a bad person, he’s just a bit...mad.” he whispered.
“I see,” I replied. “Tell me, what happened to the last person?”
“Oh,” he said, looking embarrassed. “She only lasted a week, and she stormed out yesterday. No one knows if she jumped or she was pushed.”
“And what number am I?” I asked.
“We’ve lost count,” he replied. “We’re now counting bets over how long you will last.”
He winked and went to leave. I stuck my hand out. “I’m Danni, by the way.”
“Oh, sorry, I’m Wayne. From HR.”
Right. Some HR person he was going to be. I was definitely gonna be on my own with this one. As Wayne scurried away, I could see my new boss through the glass wall darting around his office with his head set on, his arms flaying about. I saw him thump the wall. He was clearly having an intense conversation with someone.
I settled at my desk and turned on the computer. I finished putting the folder in date order in less than twenty minutes. I watched Jaron again through the glass. He was actually a nice looking man, but I could tell he wasn’t aware of it. I found a copy of his passport in one of the folders, he was thirty-eight, only seven years older than me. That was young for someone so senior; this was the first time I’d had a boss under forty. I found more details and discovered he designed and ran all the cloud computing for the major banks and airlines in the country. He also had five-hundred staff working under him.
While I waited for him to give me something else to do, I scanned wedding dresses on Google. I was getting married in nine months, and was looking for a dress.
The door to his office flew open and he came flying out. I clicked out of the window displaying wedding dresses and pretended to type.
“Woman, can you take minutes?” he barked.
I looked straight ahead at my computer screen, and continued typing.
“Can you take minutes?” he repeated.
I didn’t look at him.
“Lady, are you deaf?” he roared.
I stood up, and faced him with my hands on my hips.
“Now you listen to me—man!” I said sternly. “My name is Danni, not woman. And I am here to help you. To help you, I need you to help me. And you can start by calling me by my name and having some manners!”
He looked very taken aback, and we stood staring at each other for a few moments. I noticed the whole area around us had gone quiet, too. Then he burst out laughing.
“Very well, Danni,” he said.
He put on a different tone, a rather condescending tone, but a better mannered one nonetheless.
“Could you please escort me to this next meeting?” he asked. “Where I would like you to record some minutes for me?”
“That’s a bit better...” I replied.
And that was the beginning of my relationship with Jaron McLachlan.
I picked up a pad and pen and followed him to a meeting room. I concealed a smirk as eyes followed us, the looks of incredulity and delight on the faces of the other staff told me it was clearly the first time someone had put this man in his place so publicly.
After that first encounter, he was far more polite, but as I said earlier about being a lion tamer, he would still try and revert back to his bad mannered ways, and I would have to put him in his place again. It was both exciting and exhausting, but Jaron was a very interesting man, and there was never a dull moment with him. He actually had a very good sense of humour, and he was aware he was difficult to work with. He would even joke about how he couldn’t believe people put up with him. He was fluent in Japanese, and I discovered the reason he had asked whether I could speak it was because we had a lot of dealings with our office in Japan. But the Japanese staff spoke excellent English, so my ignorance of the language was never an issue.
It was my first time working in the IT industry, and I quickly realised my perception of IT workers was completely wrong. Before I worked there, I thought they would have to be a bunch of geeks, and while there was certainly an element of this, they were the cleverest, most witty and friendly people I had ever worked with.
Jaron, for all his rudeness and eccentricity, was actually a very kind person. When one of our team members ended up in hospital, he was extremely concerned and gave her all the time off she needed, also sending her a huge bouquet of flowers. He adored his ten-year-old twin daughters and was always talking about them. And while he could be a right twat to deal with as a boss, he adored his staff and would fiercely have our backs at all times.
He was highly regarded and respected for his expertise in cloud computing, and reported directly to Miranda, the CEO, and I could tell he was a favourite of hers. The rumour was that he was in line to take her place when she eventually left.
Somehow I could not imagine Jaron as the CEO. A big part of a CEO’s role is PR skills and people skills, and Jaron would struggle with both; he couldn’t leave a thought unsaid. He was one of these people who had a high IQ but a much lower EQ. He was brilliant at his job, but his people skills left a lot to be desired. But I was good at dealing with these types, I never took his behaviour personally and took no shit from him.
My first three months working with him were great. He ended up asking me to stay on permanently and I accepted. I got high fives from the other staff; apparently no one had bet I would last. When I noticed Jaron seemed to be getting more and more stressed out, I knew it had nothing to do with work. His wife would ring incessantly, and he would shut the door, but I could still hear him arguing with her. When he hung up, he would avoid speaking to anyone for a while, including me.
One day I had to speak to him about something urgent. I opened the door.
“Fuck off,” he said, not taking his eyes off his computer screen.
“Don’t you tell me to fuck off!” I snapped.
He glared at me.
“What is the problem, Jaron?” I asked.
“I’m having problems with my wife, all right!” he snapped back.
“Well, that’s nothing to do with me,” I replied. “Here, this is from Miranda; you need to sign it.”
I left the document on his desk and left. I felt his pain. Unlike him, I didn’t bring my problems to work, but I, too, was having relationship problems. My fiancée, Mark, and I were on the rocks. We’d been together for seven years, and due to marry in six months. It’s just the seven year itch, I kept telling myself, and we’ll get through it.
Jaron came steaming through the door. “What is this fucking shit?” he demanded angrily, pointing at the document from the CEO.
I glared at him, I was in no mood for one of his moods.
“Oh, for fucks sake, I need a coffee.” He sighed. “Will you come with me? My treat.”
We had coffee together from time t
o time, and I always looked forward to those times. Jaron would usually joke around about his difficult clients and how his wife was giving him grief. I felt sorry for the poor bitch, being married to him. But this time we went to the bar next door, and Jaron ordered a double whiskey on the rocks. I ordered a coke. I was wearing a new pearl necklace that day, a gift from my mother.
Jaron eyed my necklace. “That is a very nice necklace,” he said. “What is it about pearls that make a woman so sexy when they wear them?”
I felt slightly uncomfortable; he’d never spoken to me like that before. “They enhance the neck,” I suggested.
“No, they enhance an already beautiful neck,” he said slowly.
Our knees touched under the table, and something happened that had never happened before. A surge of heat filled me between my legs. It shot up to my face as well, and I felt my cheeks flush. My mouth went dry. I could tell he felt it, too. A strange sexual tension enveloped us.
Jaron swallowed hard. We both looked at the table awkwardly. “I’m sick of this fuckin job,” he finally said, swigging his drink.
“You’re just having a bad day,” I replied, barely getting my voice out.
Jaron snorted. “Everywhere I turn, I got goddamn women busting my balls, my wife, my boss, my two daughters. You!”
I’d had enough. “Fuck you, Jaron,” I said, and walked out.
When he returned to the office, I could tell he was drunk. “Sorry,” he said sheepishly, going into his office and closing the door.
He went to Japan that night, and when he returned after a few days, a bottle of top-shelf, duty-free whisky was sitting on my desk. “What’s this for?” I asked.
“For putting up with me,” he said, smiling.
I saw Miranda join him in his office. His boss certainly ran an odd ship. As much as we had good results, bad behaviour flourished. While it was never spoken of, and providing there was nothing too overt, drunkenness was quite accepted at work, as were rampant affairs and bully behaviour amongst staff. Jaron should never have gotten away with his behaviour, but Miranda was the type of CEO who was all about results, not processes; she wasn’t interested in details. And if something staff-related needed to be dealt with, she got her Chief Operating Officer, Paul Finch, to deal with it. Finch was a nasty little man who got off on being a bully. He did not like Jaron, but as long as Miranda liked him, then Finch couldn’t touch him. Jaron had enough sense to know which boundaries he could push as far as he could before he got in trouble.
