"Sloane." My boss made my name sound like a reprimand. I looked up from my desk, already dreading his next words. "I need you to work late this evening."
"Sir, I can't tonight," I protested.
"Sure you can." He placed a folder before me, tapping it with his fingertip for emphasis.
"But it's Friday!"
He paused in the middle of putting on his suit coat. "So?"
"So..." I tried to think of a convincing excuse. "I have a date, and I need to get ready." That wasn't exactly true, since the only date I had was with my couch and a pint of mint chocolate chip ice cream while I watched my favorite show.
My boss smirked. "Well, tell your 'date,'" he said, actually using air quotes, "that you'll need to reschedule."
Watching him stride toward the elevator, I felt as if my blood had begun to simmer just beneath my skin. At twenty-two, I worked full-time as a secretary for a large company. That's what the job title was back in those days, not anything fancy like "administrative professional." If one of the executives felt particularly cute, I might get called a "Girl Friday." I reported directly to the biggest asshole in the company, a man I'll call Mr. So-and-So. He demanded that I address him only as "Sir." At first, I'd agreed without hesitation. The job paid well for secretarial work, and I was willing to overlook Mr. So-and-So's nauseating ego. But the harder I tried to meet his requirements, the more he came to expect of me.
My duties included typing his reports and making his coffee, along with fetching his dry-cleaning and fielding calls from the women he'd bedded and then jilted. In short, anything he wanted. When I complained to my mother over the phone about Mr. So-and-So, she simply said, "Is he harassing you, Sloane? Has he squeezed your ass or anything like that?"
"Ew. No," I replied, wrinkling my nose.
"Well, alright then. Suck it up and keep collecting your paycheck. If you only knew what I had to put up with when I was your age!" Mom was on her second marriage, and at her new husband's urging, she'd recently quit her office job to be a housewife.
I now picked up the folder Mr. So-and-So had left for me. Once I'd opened it to examine the contents, I couldn't suppress a groan of dread. I'd be here all night! My anger only grew when the other secretaries filed past my desk on their way out the door. Most avoided looking at me, but a few cast sympathetic glances in my direction. Sonia was one of them. Just that morning, she'd joked about Mr. So-and-So's insistence on being called Sir. "That sounds kinky!"
"Are you trying to make me lose my breakfast, Sonia?" I said, rolling my eyes.
She only snickered. "He's certainly welcome to get kinky with me! That man is so gorgeous in those expensive suits he wears."
"Sonia, please don't."
"And imagine how sexy he is out of his suit!" she went on. "I'd be happy to bend over his desk so he could give me a stern talking-to."
Of course, I knew most women found Mr. So-and-So incredibly good-looking, but in my opinion, his sex appeal couldn't make up for his horrid personality. And Mr. So-and-So used his good looks and prestigious position to get whatever he wanted. He was tall and fit, with dark hair and intense blue eyes. I'd heard him described as both sophisticated and ruggedly handsome. The man was a chameleon, easily able to assume many different roles.
"You wouldn't last a day working for him," I told Sonia. All the secretaries were jealous of her, since her boss was exceedingly kind, almost grandfatherly. He'd even had flowers delivered for Sonia on her birthday! My boss wouldn't have been able to recall my birthday if his life depended on it. Of course, I knew his. The man was in his early forties, which was plenty old enough to realize he shouldn't act like an arrogant asshole.
Once everyone had left the office that Friday evening, I sat at my desk, glowering at the folder before me. I knew I was only hurting myself by procrastinating, but I'd worked late at least half a dozen times within the last month alone. I was tired of Mr. So-and-So taking advantage of my eagerness to do a good job. He was probably out at some bar right now, buying drinks for a woman he planned to screw later on. Remembering the way he sarcastically referred to my "date" brought tears of fury to my eyes. It was as if he found the idea of a man being interested in me utterly ridiculous. Sure, I wasn't a knockout like Sonia, but I was pretty enough, having inherited my mother's dark hair and eyes. I hadn't inherited her feminine wiles, however. She'd always had a string of men wrapped around her finger.
I tried to focus on the report, but I couldn't concentrate. I was so angry; I wanted to hurl the folder across the room. Having the entire floor to myself was a surreal experience, as I was used to the constant activity that made the office seem to hum with energy during the workday. I looked around, a wicked smile tugging at my lips. "Fuck you, Sir!" I dared to say out loud. Then I practically shouted it.
Shoving the report folder away from me, I stood and strode toward Mr. So-and-So's private office. I didn't bother to turn on the light. Instead, I lingered in the doorway as my heart began racing. Though I realized I was about to do something that could get me fired, it was as if I was simply an observer, strangely detached from my body, while I stepped closer to Mr. So-and-So's desk. His office had a gorgeous view, and since I knew I wouldn't be leaving any time soon, I allowed myself the opportunity to gaze out at the city lights for several minutes. Somewhere in that city, Mr. So-and-So was living it up; he probably had a woman on each arm right now. And I was stuck here.
I decided to make myself comfortable. After kicking off my heels, I lifted my skirt and removed my pantyhose as well, careful not to snag them. That urge to do something outrageous rushed through me again, and before I could talk myself out of it, I took off my half-slip and cotton panties. The sensation of being naked beneath my knee-length skirt was weirdly arousing. As I grazed my fingertips over Mr. So-and-So's desk, I realized I was getting wet. A nervous giggle escaped my lips. I pulled my skirt up to my waist and sat bare-assed in his chair. This felt naughty, almost sinful. My mother would be mortified if she knew. I slid my pussy over the fine leather of the chair, hoping to leave my scent behind. I felt like an animal marking its territory.
I reached for Mr. So-and-So's favorite pen, the one engraved with his name. The metal was cold and smooth beneath my fingers. I draped my legs over the arms of his chair, so I was spread wide. My face grew hot as I dared to tease my clitoris with the rounded end of the pen. Leaning back, I pleasured myself, sliding the pen lower until it was at my entrance. I couldn't suppress a moan while easing it inside me. This was so wrong, I told myself. I was fucking myself with Mr. So-and-So's cherished possession! By itself, the pen didn't give me much satisfaction, but knowing I was defiling something my boss held dear made my hips start rocking.
My moans grew louder as I fondled my nipples through my blouse. Too bad I wasn't brave enough to get completely naked, I thought. While thrusting the pen in and out of my pussy, I rubbed my swollen clit. I was shocked at how quickly my excitement built; my thighs were soon trembling, and I knew it wouldn't be long until I made myself come.
With closed eyes and parted lips, I surrendered to my lust. Maybe if I had an orgasm, I'd relax enough to concentrate on that damned report. As wet as I was, I must have been dripping onto the chair. My cries became desperate. I was almost there, right on the edge!
It was then that I heard the flip of the office light switch. Opening my eyes, I saw Mr. So-and-So in the doorway, gaping at me. I released a startled squawk, sounding as if someone had just thrown ice water in my face. My arousal vanished in an instant, only to be replaced by mortification. I actually prayed I would pass out right then and there in order to be spared from my overwhelming shame. "I'm sorry!" I blurted out. There was no way I could discreetly remove the pen from my pussy. I didn't dare look at my boss while I placed it on his desk. I noticed it was wet and glistening in the light. Though I didn't trust my shaking knees to support me, I rushed to stand, yanking down my skirt once I was on my feet.
Mr. So-and-So still looked as if he couldn't believe what he'd just witnessed. "What the hell are you doing?" he demanded. I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out. "Are you fucking high?" he went on. "What possessed you to do such a thing?" My lips quivered from the effort to hold back my tears. I looked down at my bare feet as Mr. So-and-So approached the desk. He slowly reached for the pen, his fingers closing around it. "Look at me." I forced myself to meet his hard stare. "You're going to pay for what you've done, Sloane." I watched, wide-eyed, as he brought the pen to his lips and gave it a slow lick, adding his saliva to the wetness I'd left behind on the metal.
"Sir, please," I whimpered.
My boss flashed a devilish grin. "Oh, there's no need for 'Sir' any longer. You can call me Jack now because we're going to get to know each other a lot better."
Now I truly did feel on the verge of passing out. "What do you mean?"
"You obviously have more urgent matters than work to attend to tonight." Jack made a show of adjusting the bulge in his pants. "I'm going to help you with that."
As his meaning became perfectly clear, I couldn't hold back a gasp. Then my earlier rage returned with full force. "Oh, go to hell, Jack!" I shouted. His stunned expression gave me almost as much pleasure as his pen had. "I put up with far too much of your bullshit as it is. I'm not going to start fucking you, too. I quit!" I shook from the massive amount of adrenaline flooding my body, but I managed to hold my head high while striding past him.
"Sloane, wait," he said. While I longed to keep walking, I could already hear my mother's voice in my head: Do you understand how serious it is to get fired, Sloane? What were you thinking? I forced myself to stop and turn toward Jack. He held up his hands as if to placate me. "I'm not asking you to fuck me, okay? And I don't want to lose you; you're the best secretary I've ever had." I couldn't hide my surprise, for my boss had never complimented me before. "I'll make a deal with you." His stare moved slowly up and down my body. "If you let me eat your pussy, I'll give you Monday off."
For a moment, I was too shocked to form a reply. "Are you insane?" I finally shrieked.
"No, but I'm incredibly turned on after seeing you... doing what you were doing at my desk." Jack began stroking himself through his pants.
I hated this man. So why did his words send a current of lust directly between my thighs? My face flushed so deeply, I had to fight the urge to fan myself. "You're disgusting," I snapped. He started to speak, but I shushed him. "Make it Monday and Tuesday," I continued, "and we have a deal."
That sly smile returned to Jack's lips. "You drive a hard bargain, Sloane. Monday and Tuesday it is. Now hop up on the desk and open those gorgeous legs for me."
"I want the light off," I told him. "People can see into your office."
Jack strode over to the window and closed the blinds. "Problem solved." He must have sensed my anxiety about being naked from the waist down with no darkness for cover, for he added, "No need to be shy. I saw everything when you were spread wide in my chair."
I shot him a dirty look. "Why did you come back here tonight, anyway?"
"I forgot my briefcase. You let me walk right out of here without it."
I hadn't even noticed his briefcase in the corner. "I'm not your wife," I retorted. "You have to take care of some things on your own."
"Agreed. Now let me take care of you." His voice was low and soft, almost gentle. Drawing in a deep breath, I slowly approached him. Again his gaze moved over me. "You might want to take off that skirt. It will be more comfortable for you that way."
I started to argue but realized Jack was right. With the skirt bunched up around my waist, it wouldn't be concealing anything and would only be in the way. He had the decency to look away while I let the skirt fall to my feet and then stepped out of it. I couldn't suppress a shiver as I eased onto the edge of his desk. All I had to do, I told myself, was let him spend a little time with his face between my thighs, and then I could have the next two days off. That would give me the chance to recover from this evening and return to work Wednesday with a shred of my dignity intact.