my one ni-ght bo-ss episode 3

my one ni-ght bo-ss ??
Chapter 3

I laugh, “It’s not a problem. Really. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Charles

Investors are a pain in my @$$. So is Robert Jenkins. So, it seems, is everyone else in the world today. Except Alyssa. She is always lovely no matter what she’s doing. I make a mental note to send her a gift for doing the job of a messenger. But those presentation materials are too important to trust to a messenger. If everything goes well tomorrow, we might have our first international hotel.

I think about the bottle of wine I’d been saving for just this milestone. Hopefully in the near future I’ll get to drink it. Maybe, eventually, I’ll get Alyssa to toast with me.

There she was again. No matter what I did this week she was never far from my thoughts. I had given in to my fantasy about her more than once the night of the pa-rty. While I was showering, while I was in bed…

Every time I asked her to do something in the office I thought about what it might be like for me to tell her to do something else. I imagined her choosing to obey my every word. The results of that thought were luckily hidden by my desk. I’d had to sit more than usual this week, given the fact that I got ha-rd at the mere sight of her now.

But she wanted professionalism. She was flushed earlier when I had spoken to her, almost like she was embarr@$$ed. The darker corner of my mind said it could be a different kind of flush. Something a little more provocative.

Which was ridiculous.

Wasn’t it?

I had seen her close something on her computer before I gave her the flash drive. The thought pops into my head before I can stop it—she’s gone for the day. I sent her home. I shouldn’t look. I should not look.

I’m not sure why I’m moving towards the door, but it seems my body has already made the decision for me. The rational pa-rt of me knows that this is a breach of privacy. However, the rational pa-rt of me is also aware that it is not currently the one in control.

I take a look around the floor to make sure no one is heading in my direction. The rational pa-rt of me agrees that I shouldn’t get caught looking at something risqué on my @$$istant’s computer. If there is anything risqué.

I move the mouse and the screen pops up to her desktop. Along the bottom, there is a single tab. Knowing it’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever done—and that includes ice dancing lessons—I clic-k on it. The page is a de-ep burgundy, and the top is decorated in gold scrolling lettering ‘Tantalize’. Then, in smaller letters, ‘Where fantasies come to life.’

On the screen is an open writing box, and it looks unfinished. I scroll back and read the beginning. I think my jaw drops open, but I’m not entirely sure because as far as I’m aware there’s no blood in my head any more. I expected something dirty, but I didn’t expect her to be writing it. And I didn’t expect it to be…this. This is everything I had wanted.

A burst of desi-re rolls throu-ghme, and I grip the edge of the desk. I look at the screen name. AlysInWonderland. Before anyone can see I black out the screen and go back into my office, and just like the first line of her story said, I lock the door.

I quickly pull up the website on my phone and search for her name. Half a dozen stories pop up. I clic-k on the first one and skim throu-ghit. He tells me to kneel down, and so I do, a thri-ll going throu-ghme at the thought of being at his command. I go back and clic-k the next one. “Touch yourself,” he says, “I’m going to watch, and then you’re going to watch me.” And the next. I place my hands on the desk and wait for him to life my skirt and take me. I’m prepared to wait. He like to take his time.

It’s completely impossible to ignore the fact that my di-ck is, if possible, the ha-rdest I’ve been in my life. Every one of these stories is a power pla-y between a secretary and her boss. He gives a command, she does it without question. Alyssa…and me.

I sit in my office and think about nothing. About cacti and baseball and prunes and anything and everything to get my di-ck un-der control before I leave. Because I’m going home. My fantasies be damned. Tonight I’m going to read hers. And tomorrow I’m going to see how professional she really wants it to be.

Alyssa

Whoever would have though that Thursday traffic is the worst of the week? It seems to be that way here, or at least it was this week and last week. Maybe everyone is over eager to get to work because more than half of the week is over? I don’t know. It doesn’t really matter. What matters is that I am fifteen minutes late.

I hate being late.

I hustle throu-ghthe lobby and of course today is the day that the elevators take forever. Why is everything against me today? I bolt out of the elevators and try to sprint-while-walking as much as I can. Charles’ office is all the way in the back corner of the building. It’s the perfect office for a CEO, it’s a nightmare for a late employee. An employee whose boss isn’t even in yet.

I bite my li-p in an effort to contain my frustration. I put myself throu-ghall that, and he’s not even here. Of course he’s not, he’s meeting his Heely International at the hotel downtown. So, it turns out I’m a total airhead after all. My mother was right.

I flop down at my desk, thorou-ghly annoyed that I put myself throu-ghall that anxiety for nothing. Even if he had been here, Charles hasn’t given me any reason to believe he’d be angry about it. He’s been a great boss so far, unlike my last one who could never let the small things go. There’s a message blinking on my phone, and I dial my voicemail while tapping my mouse to wake up my computer.

I completely fail to hear whatever the message says, because Tantalize is still on my screen. Oh. My. God.

The message can wait. I could have sworn that I closed this. Maybe I didn’t. Did I remember to turn off the screen before I left yesterday? Did someone see? Did Charles see?

Heat rises to my cheeks and my heart picks up it’s pace.

No. It’s fine. I’m sure the screensaver kicked on a few minutes after I left. No one would have a reason to look on my computer while I’m not here. I look at Tantalize’s oversized and br@zen logo and mentally curse it out using every swear word I know. If someone had seen there wouldn’t be any doubt what I had been doing. While at work.

I’m going to get fired.

I save the story to my profile to be finished later (Even if I get fired that story could come in handy later), and close the window. No more fantasies at work. It can’t happen. The water in my bottle in my small fridge gets drained immediately and I have to go to the kitchen for more. Why is it suddenly so hot in this building?

I seriously nee-d to calm down. Someone should slap me like they do to all those women having hysterics in movies. But would that really help?

I don’t know, but the water does. I go back to my desk, and listen to the message again. It’s from accounting. They nee-d to speak to him when he comes in today. I make a note.

I call Mr. Jenkins’ office and leave a message—it’s still early in Seattle. Then I throw myself into my work. I will not think about what might have happened. I will not fantasize about my boss. I will not think about se-x at all. From now on I’m a puritanical V¡rgin. I am a nun. Yep.

I will not think about it.

Dammit. This is ha-rd. No pun intended.

***

By the time Charles makes it into the office a little before noon I’ve gotten a hold on myself. Mostly. I had a couple of moments where I allowed myself to think about how bad it would be if someone caught me writing porn at work, but I was mostly okay.

I get a jolt of adrenaline when I see him coming down the hall, and I grab his messages. “Good morning, Mr. Saxon. How did the presentation go?” See? You sound fine. Totally professional. Cool.

He smiles. “Well, I think. I’m hoping to hear from them either today or tomorrow. If they call, put them straight throu-gh.”

“I will. You have a couple of messages—accounting would like to speak with you, and the manager of the D.C. hotel called about the renovations to their ballroom.” He takes the sli-ps from me. “Oh, and I’m still waiting to hear back from Mr. Jenkins about that call.” I swear I see him roll his eyes. “Thanks, Alyssa.”

He goes into his office, and I think I might melt from the relief. My fears of being fired were totally irrational. My fears usually are irrational, but that’s entirely beside the point. He doesn’t know. This was a close call. From now on I’ll write the fantasies when I get home, because you can be damn sure I’m not going to stop having them.

“Hey, Alyssa, can you come in here for a second?” Charles calls from the office.

There’s a little bu-tterfly in my stomach as I head inside. “Sure.”

He’s in the process of hanging up his suit jacket. “Before I take care of these messages, there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Of course.”

He sits at his desk and pulls his phone out, typing. “The night we first met, you told me you expected our relationship to be entirely professional.”

My stomach drops down to the ground. Considering that we’re on the fiftieth floor, it’s a long drop. “That’s right, I did. I appreciate that you’ve respected that.”

He smiles at me, a genuinely delighted smile. “So imagine my surprise when I found out that you’ve been writing graphic se-x ual fantasies about two characters, who are shockingly similar to you and I.”

“No.” All the blood drains from my face. This isn’t happening. It’s so, so much worse than when I imagined it this morning.

“I just wanted to know where that lies in the line of keeping our relationship professional?”

He’s still smiling. Is he going to fire me? How can I salvage this? THINK. But my br@in is all mushy, and the only thing that I can for-ce out of my mouth is, “I can explain…” “You don’t have to explain anything. There’s nothing wrong with this. I love this.” He gestures to his phone, “But I think you may have lied about wanting to be professional.”

“I—” Nothing else comes out. There aren’t any words.

“I can feel the bite of a bu-tton into my wrist as he ties my hands with his shirt, but I can’t care. The view of his che-st makes it all worth it.”

Oh my god he’s reading it. All the blood rushes back from where it went and goes straight into my face. I can feel the heat of embarr@$$ment radiating from my face. He’s still smiling. “I’m glad you think so highly of me, even if you haven’t seen me without a shirt yet. That’s one of my favorite bits. I have others…”

“No, please.” I take a step forward. “Stop.”

“You wrote this. So did you lie about what you wanted?” I don’t say anything. Instead I’m trying to figure out how to get the phone out of his hand. He starts again, “He moves inside me fas-ter and fas-ter, and I want to touch him even though he told me no. Instead I’m trapped by his will and his word—”

“Stop.” I say, moving around the desk. He has to stop. It’s not meant to be read out loud.

He moves too, away from me, reading all the time. “The thought makes me shudder with plea-sure.”

“Mr. Saxon. Charles.”

We’re on opposite sides of the desk again. “To get me to stop you have to admit that you lied.”

Rage flows throu-ghme, giving me focus throu-ghthe fog. “I didn’t lie. I did—do want our relationship to be professional. My fantasies are none of your business.”

He walks over to his couch and sits on the arm. “They are my business when they are about me. Now stop trying to take my phone, I’m quite enjoying this.” The grin is back. “His mouth covers my ni-ppleand I gasp the sweet s-ns¶tion of teeth and tongue, teeth and tongue, over and over again.”

To hell with this. If he’s not going to stop reading, I’ll make him stop. Then we can talk about professionalism. He locks eyes with me as I come around the desk, and he’s not smiling any more. “Alyssa,” He says, “Stop. I’m going to finish this.” I take another step towards him, ignoring the fact that him giving me a command is exactly what all these fantasies are about. “Don’t. Move.” His face is deadly serious. He turns back to his phone. “‘I’m so close.’ I whisper, and I feel him slow down, making it last until—”

Enough is enough. I close the distance and grab at the phone, but Charles gets there first. He grabs my wrist, and now we’re eye to eye. And then before I can fully grasp what’s happening, he pulls me across his lap, and he spa-nks me.

Fiery pain bursts from the sp-ot, and I freeze. He spa-nks me again, and again, his words punctuating the pain. “I. Told. You. Not. To. Move.”

The pain subsides and I find that my breath is coming in gasps, and I can feet the heat between my legs. His hand moves slowly now, m@$$aging away the pain. This is exactly what I wanted. I thought it was just a fantasy, something that I would just imagine to—I never thought it would be real.

Charles pulls me upright and close, moving my legs for me so that I’m straddling him. My breathing is out of control and I know I’m bright red and I don’t un-derstand how he’s so calm because I’ve never been more turned on in my life.

He wraps his hands around my wrists, holding me against him. “That was for moving when I told you not to. Don’t do it again. And don’t ever lie to me.”

My mind is blank. Totally blank. Where are my words? “But…I didn’t lie.” I say, taking a de-ep breath. “It’s just a fantasy.”

“You lied.” He says, “But your body doesn’t.” And then his hand is un-der my skirt and his fingers touch me and oh god I’m so we-t. I close my eyes, so I can’t see him look at me. This can’t be real. This can’t be what I want. But it is…

Tbc