I pump faster when I see her up on that table, her legs spread open to me, wanting me, her sweet pussy so wet from my kisses and my touch.
In my mind I want to take my dick and slide it into her beautiful, eager body. Would I take her slowly or would I not be able to control myself?
The thought of being inside her, becoming one with that perfect body, that beautiful woman, is almost too much. My hand moves faster and faster across my long cock, hardly able to take the fantasy anymore of Emily as I see her mouth open as she pants, her head falling back from desire, her hips pushing up as I take more of her, pushing deeper and harder into her, both of us moaning and panting as finally we come together. Or rather I come alone, leaning further onto the counter, jerking my dick. As Emily’s face slowly fades from my mind, I look at myself in the mirror.
“That’s the last time,” I tell my reflection. I have to put her out of my mind, and concentrate on the business.
A few days later I’m tossing through a pile of mail on my desk at the office. Sandra sorts it, opens everything and organizes it into piles so I can sift through it all quickly and hand back whatever she needs to deal with.
I’m thinking about my upcoming meeting with the head of security for our hotels when something catches my eye. An invitation. Sandra has stuck on Post-It on it with the one word scrawled.
Regrets?
Because she knows I turn down most of the invitations I receive. Galas, dinners, all the bullshit that comes with being the face of a huge corporation.
But this one catches my eye when I realize it’s from the Children’s Education Fund. They’d like to recognize me for my and few others for our contributions to the fund. Sounds like my hell, being publicly recognized for writing a check at a stuffy, boring luncheon. Still…
If I am to take over Croft International, I suppose I need to do more things like this, get my face out there at charity events to show what a caring corporation we are. It certainly won’t hurt to have my picture snapped at an event for the children. It’d look great in our company newsletter.
After all, I paid that money to them—the least I should do is make sure I get something out of it for myself.
And then I think of Emily and I know deep inside that I got a hell of a lot more than I bargained for already…
I have Sandra RSVP yes for me, and then get back to work. I have that meeting with our head of hotel security in fifteen minutes.
As I walk through the lobby of the hotel I keep my eyes focused straight ahead. I don’t look into the faces of the people milling around the lobby or walking toward the ballroom with me. I don’t care who else is at the luncheon—I’m only here as the face of Croft International. This is purely work, and has nothing to do with a certain grad student and part-time employee of the fund. She’s probably in class…or out tutoring some kid in juvie.
I shake my head and remind myself of my dinner with Genevieve this evening. We’ve kept in touch, and the coolness of her personality works for me. I don’t spend chunks of my day thinking about her, that’s for sure.
“Mr. Croft?” a young man says as I walk into the ballroom.
“Yes?”
“Hi, I’m Derek with the fund.” He offers his right hand, which I shake. He’s holding a binder that’s opened to a page I can clearly see.
Donors is written at the top and the page is filled with color headshots and short descriptions. I catch sight of my photo from the company website. “I’m helping out with the development team today. We’re so happy you could join us. Would you like a drink? Glass of wine, water?”
“No, I’m fine.”
He leads me into a smaller room that’s set up with banners of kids’ faces and the organization’s name and logo. There’s a bar on either side of the room and two waiters with trays of hors d’oeuvres circling the small group of people chatting in clusters. Must be the high-rollers room.
“I’d like you to meet Jules, our head of development,” Derek says, presenting me to a woman who had been busy with two elderly women with no wrinkles or gray hairs.
“Mr. Croft,” Jules says with a bright smile, offering her hand to shake. “We’re so glad you could join us this afternoon. I know how busy your schedule must be.”
“It’s no problem,” I say, my eyes darting about the room. “Happy to be here.”
“Can we get you something to drink?”
“No thank you,” I say, annoyed to be asked twice. Annoyed to be here. Why did I agree to this? There is so much work to do back at the office. This is a complete waste of my time.
“We so appreciate your donation,” Jules says. “And the fact that you donated it to unrestricted funds really gives us the opportunity to put the money where it’s most needed.”