At His Service(3)

"They say. Um …  They say that you're very, uh, good looking …  and impossible to please."

"Oh they do, do they?" He sat back, and tented his fingers beneath his chin. "Well, do you agree with them? Do you think I'm scary, handsome and woefully unsatisfied?"

My mouth dropped open, and I quickly closed it with a snap.

"Yes. I mean, no! I mean, I don't know … "

He stood, then, and leaned in close, towering over me. "You were right the first time."

Anxiety coursed through me, but I have to admit, being this close to him, smelling his scent and feeling the heat radiating off his body, it made me wonder what it would be like to be in his arms. To be his. To be owned by him …

His face was almost touching mine when he whispered to me. "I am unsatisfied, Isabeau. I want you to be my new assistant. Will you do that for me? Will you be at my beck and call?"

My breath left me as his words sunk in. When I finally regained it, I felt like I was trembling from head to toe. His beck and call.

"Wh-what about your old assistant?"

Mr. Drake leaned back again and took my chin in his hand, forcing my eyes to his. "What about her? I want you."

His touch on my skin was electric. Are we still talking about business?

"Yes, Mr. Drake."

His thumb stroked my cheek for the briefest of moments, and then he released me, breathless, and wondering what I'd just agreed to.

"Very good, Isabeau. I'll expect you here at 8 a.m. tomorrow, in my office, ready to work. Don't be late."

He turned away, effectively dismissing me. I hopped down off the desk and quickly made for the door. I didn't want to give him time to change his mind.

"And Isabeau?"

I turned back, my hand on the knob. "Yes, Mr. Drake?"

"I don't tolerate sloppy work. Disappoint me, and there will be consequences."

I blushed, and nodded, then closed the door behind me.

What had I gotten myself into?

***

"Isabeau! Get in here, now!"

I jumped in my seat in front of the big, mahogany doors, spilling my cup of ramen noodles onto my blouse.

"Shit! Shit, shit, shit." If there was one thing Mr. Drake hated, it was sloppiness, and here I was dripping with cheap soup stock. My silk was stained, the material sticking to the tops of my br**sts.

"By now, I meant immediately, Isabeau! Not at your personal convenience."

I swore again under my breath, and entered his office. Maybe a miracle would occur, and he wouldn't notice. Please, God, have mercy!

"Sit," he commanded.

I moved toward the chairs once again, but he stared at me, frowing, until I circled the desk and perched on the edge.

"Yes, Mr. Drake?"

"What took you so long? I need you to type these notes up for me, and … "

He stopped, sniffing the air. He leaned in, and to my horror, plucked a long, wavy noodle out of my cle**age. I bit my lip, tears of embarassment burning behind my eyes.




 

 

I had to keep it together. It probably wasn't the end of the world, even though it felt like it, sitting here in front of my boss, who could have been a GQ model, shaking with nerves, and dripping with soup.

"Oh, my dear," he said, placing it into his trashcan like it was a dead spider. "This is not good at all. I don't like this. One. Little. Bit."

He was out of his chair in a flash, and before I could stop him, his hands were on my blouse, undoing my buttons with speed and precision.

"Mr. Drake!"

He ripped the last button off, and I winced as the silk tore. My shirt fell open, revealing my bra, and he yanked it down off my shoulders and threw it to the floor.

"I thought I made it clear that I do not tolerate sloppiness?"

His voice was deep and dripping with menace. I tried to cover myself, but he slapped my hands away and ran his eyes over my exposed curves without a hint of embarassment.

"You represent me, Isabeau. Me! And I do not present myself in such a disgusting manner. Not to my colleages. Not to anyone."

He leaned forward, caging me in with a hand on each side of my body. His face was just an inch from mine, his clean breath tickling my lips. What was he going to do to me?

"I …  I'm sorry," I breathed.

"Sorry's not going to cut it, girl. You seem to have a problem remembering what my rules are. You've been lax. Lazy. Disheveled. I think it's high time you were punished."

He toyed with one of my bra straps, then slid it slowly down one shoulder. I tensed, wondering how far he would go. Fear coursed through me, but at the same time, my heart raced, my sex heating against the surface of the desk. I had to admit it, even if it was just to myself …

I wanted him.

There was something mesmerizing about him. Something forceful and dangerous. Something I couldn't resist, even if I wanted to. And I wasn't sure that I did.