Quietly, deep-down inside, I wanted to be pussy-whipped by Zoey Schoenberg.
I should be so lucky.
*
As the sales team got back down to it, I began crafting an email to Zoey, hoping desperately that my paranoid thoughts were just that, and that she was still my boss.
It took a fair while to get anything down on screen - each time I put something together, it seemed trite or overly cautious, or desperate, or cold, or a hundred other flaws.
I finally wrote:
Zoey,
I hope you had a pleasant weekend.
We've had a constructive sales meeting this morning, the team is resolved to improve and start really pushing to smash targets and meet your full expectations.
Happy to give you a run-down of where we are, at your convenience. And if there is absolutely anything else I can do for you, you need only ask.
Yours,
Aiden.
Well, it was fairly neutral. She could read it any way she wanted. Of course, I wanted her to read into it the offer of serving her at any time she wanted. But she could also see it as a strictly business-level message.
Dipping my hand into my pocket, I found Zoey's panties lodged there, where I'd stashed them before leaving my apartment. It had all been real, then.
It was midday before Zoey finally arrived. I found my pulse quickening suddenly, perspiration breaking out on my forehead as my breathing deepened - merely to see her stride through to her office. God, she was beautiful. Had she really been grinding her pussy on my face on Friday night? Oh, what heaven.
As she went into her office, she didn't even glance my way. I felt crushed, but I guessed she was acknowledging that she couldn't suddenly appear in public to have any feelings for me, one way or the other. Or else she was portraying herself as someone who did not need me, thereby forcing me to earn her attention, keeping me on my toes.
I tried not to think about it, focusing on my own tasks that day. There was no reply to my email for a cool half hour, and then only:
Aiden,
Thanks, keep me updated,
Zoey.
I felt a little snubbed - but what had I been expecting? Some kind of gushing praise for what had happened on Friday? Some sweet words of adoration for her willing servant, and promises of more to come? It was never going to happen in the middle of the office - and from her new-found strong-woman attitude, I suspected it would never happen at all. If she had been telling the truth about our arrangement, I was supposed to compensate her, serve her. It wasn't for her to praise me or encourage me. I should need no encouragement other than to serve her.
To taste that sweet pussy once again.
Nevertheless, I sat there staring at her email a while, trying to read meaning into that short collection of words. Did her brevity mean she was angry at me? It didn't seem to be particularly angry of tone. "Thanks" - she was grateful for my turning over a new leaf, my promise of targets being smashed. "Keep me updated" - surely that was obviously a clue that she wanted me to stay close, to keep her informed. She still wanted me.
Damn it, it was infuriatingly difficult to infer genuine tone in emails.
By the time it got to five o'clock, our whole office seemed different - lively, energetic, focused. I felt I was really achieving something - but there had been no peep out of Zoey's office. Through the afternoon, I'd gathered intelligence on what my team were up to, firing three or four emails to my boss with updates on particularly interesting developments.
It was hard to strike a balance - I didn't want to seem too obvious, craving attention from her, and yet I wanted to try anything I could to provoke some kind of clues as to how she was thinking, and in particular what her view was on our little arrangement following the weekend.
The rest of my team started leaving - after five o'clock this time - and I was feeling so nervous again, I was verging on nausea. I waited. Perhaps I should have dreamt up an excuse to enter her office that day. I had been too busy to even think of it, and with what we were working on, there was no need to bother her that day. I waited a while - six o'clock came and went. I was still working.
Then she emerged from her office - and just walked out, without even looking at me.
*
I was shattered - I felt the wind truly knocked out of me. Why was she rejecting me now? Was this her revenge for my foul treatment of her? Get me hooked, and then leave me completely cold turkey?
I went home feeling heart sick, like I'd felt after being dumped by my first love back in high school. Maybe she needed to see more results than just a day. But the next day was a similar pattern, with my team responding well to my new regime, but no real sign of Zoey all day. It wound me up so tight.
At half past four, I dreamt up a reason to call on our new head of department. I knocked on the door, my heart in my throat.