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Same Time Tomorrow
“Your twelve o’clock is here, Mr. Reddick.”
“Escort her up, please.”
Escort.
I laugh out loud, but the sound isn’t completely jocular. I can’t recall the last time I felt so nervous. I have made about a half million dollars worth of deals this morning, but the woman who is about to walk through my door has had my head spinning since I spoke with her on the phone an hour ago.
In a little over an hour and a half, I have to give a presentation to the board, including the new chair, and if they don’t buy my projections, they aren’t going to invest in my latest venture. If they don’t invest, I stand to lose a good chunk of change. I look out the window of my high-rise office building where Reddick Multinational—my recently-gone-public six-billion-dollar-net-per-year conglomerate—houses its executive offices. I can see the tiny cars below as they go about their lunchtime business and wonder if there are any other men on New York’s wealthiest bachelors list who are about to embark on the same business deal as I.
I am about to pay for sex.
It will be the first time sex didn’t involve my hand and a bottle of lotion in nearly two years.
If I were to describe my life as seriously fucking busy, the gross understatement of the phrase would make any other conversation related to the topic pointless. Whether there is a point or not, I don’t have time to engage in the discussion long enough to make someone understand everything I accomplish on any given day. I work from six in the morning until ten at night, eat in my office, work out in the company gym, and often sleep in the room off the side of my office, which has been equipped with a full bathroom and a bed. If I do make it home, I usually pass out. If I’m unable to sleep, I choose from a selection of porn-without-plot DVDs from the cabinet, get out a bottle of Alpine Suede scented lotion from Bath and Body Works, and relieve myself into unconsciousness.
My brother harassed me into considering this venture on New Year’s Eve after I gave him a brief, drunken description of my sex life. He claimed it didn’t count when no one else was involved. Just having him say that had me thinking about it way too much, and last night I had pulled the little card he had given me out of the trash can and dialed the number. An hour ago the phone rang, and a Ms. Valerie Woods told me who she was, asked if I was free for lunch, and made it very clear that while she was available, she was far from free. Just her voice and knowing she was coming here to fuck me were enough to give me an erection that mimicked the Chrysler Building.
I jacked off in my executive bathroom a half hour later to make sure I didn’t come as soon as she walked through the door. I’m not completely sure it helped because I’m already starting to feel a little discomfort in my pants, and she hasn’t even reached my office yet. Yeah…but when she does, I’m going to have her on her knees and sucking me within the first five minutes.
Definitely getting a little uncomfortable in the boxer briefs.
The slight knock on the door is familiar, and when Grace opens it and announces Ms. Woods’ arrival, I have to swallow hard before I can get a sound out of my mouth.
“Please come in, Ms. Woods.” I blink rapidly a few times as she comes around the door and into view.
Fucking gorgeous.
I knew she would be attractive. I mean, that’s part of the hiring requirements, right? I’m annoyed with myself when my business-focused mind starts wondering exactly what the hiring process may be and what might constitute a second interview. Maintaining my practiced outward demeanor of cool and calm, I reach out and grip her fingers in a brief handshake.
“Valerie Woods,” she says smoothly. “It’s a pleasure, Mr. Reddick.”
Oh, it will be, baby.
I had told her to look professional because I certainly don’t need any rumors getting started, and she has the attire down to a tee. She’s dressed in a black, just-above-the-knee-length skirt, a button up white blouse, and an unbuttoned black blazer. Her hair is up in a little bun on top of her head, but I can tell her hair is long and deep brown, which is what I had requested. I want to see it all splayed out over her shoulders. Fuck that—I want to see it all splayed out over my desk. Maybe on the floor, too. And in my chair. And on my couch…
Focus, Reddick.
The boots, though…Well, I don’t know much about women’s fashion, but they are way too fucking hot to be normal corporate attire. With four-fucking-inch heels, they go up to the bottom of her knees, and they have this kind of gathered look about them—almost like they’re supposed to be pulled up farther, but she’s got them shoved down. I can see just the very top of her calf, and I’m torn between wanting those boots ripped off so I can see her calves and wanting them up over my shoulders while I dive face first into her pussy.
All right, that definitely counts as focus, but not exactly what I need at the moment.
The door shuts, and Grace welcomingly removes herself from our presence while I make no pretenses about looking Valerie Woods up and down. When my eyes finally drift off her boots, to her breasts and eventually back to her face, she has one eyebrow cocked at me.
Cocked. Hehe.
“Do you approve?” she asks, her eyebrow still raised.
“So far,” I say quietly. “Shall we get down to business?”
“We need to get the business portion of this transaction done first, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course, Ms. Woods.”
“Here’s the bank account information.” She hands me a small business card with all the pertinent information written on it. “Once I verify the transfer, we can get started, all right?”
“Of course.”
I pull out my phone, open up the appropriate app, and transfer ten grand from my personal account to the account listed on the card. She pulls out her own phone and taps at the screen a few times. After a moment, she looks back up at me.
“All right, Mr. Julian Reddick,” Valerie Woods says as she closes her phone, “you have paid a significant amount of money to my company to be in my company for the next sixty minutes. The amount you have paid entitles you to anything you want, provided there is no actual injury or permanent marks left on my body when our transaction is complete. For either vaginal or anal intercourse, you are to use a condom. Other than that, pretty much anything goes. Though it’s never happened with me, we do practice using common safe words just in case something is getting out of hand. I’ll say ‘yellow’ if you’re doing something I don’t want, and I expect you to deviate from your current course. If I say the word ‘red,
’ and you don’t stop what you are doing, you’ll end up floating in the Hudson before the end of the week.”
“You said that over the phone,” I remind her. I hope to God I sound more confident than I feel, but something about having my life threatened in my own office is a little nerve-racking.
“Just want to make sure everything is in order, Mr. Reddick.”
“I think I have the rules down, Ms. Woods.”
“In that case, let’s begin,” Valerie says as she tilts her head like she’s examining me. “Do you know what you are looking to experience today?”
“Yes, I do,” I respond. I know exactly what I want, which is rather the point.
