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“Candide? Are you okay?”
I still felt funny to hear him say my name. Not that I hadn’t heard it before, it just sounded different coming from him.
“Yeah, yes, sir, just a bit tired,” I faltered.
“What have I said about the sir?”
“That if I insist on using it, I’d better salute?” I answered, fighting the urge to giggle.
“Exactly, so either get your hand up or call me Ryan. If you aren’t comfortable with that, please at least go with Mr. Owens, understood?”
“Yes, si - Ryan,” I said, trying it out, just to see how it felt in my mouth. It felt good.
“Much better.”
He gave an approving nod and flashed me a smile that made my heart skip and my pussy drip, fuck he was hot! I was far from the only girl who had the hots for him, I knew, but that didn’t stop me from hoping that maybe, just maybe, he might like me too.
“I need your contacts.”
“Contacts?”
In a ditzy moment I definitely wasn’t proud of, I’d assumed he’d meant the ones on my eyes, which I doubted would fit him. I’d worn glasses most of my childhood, my parents refusing to pay for contacts which they saw as feeding into my vanity.
They were very concerned with vanity, along with the other six deadly sins. They were both deeply religious, from an equally religious family. Values they tried to pass on to me. Much of their credit and blame for the intense work ethic that was driving me toward early wrinkles go to their efforts. Making me feel so bad about doing nothing for even one day, I lived in near paralyzing fear of idleness.
“The ones for the St. Paddy’s Day parade,” he clarified.
I wanted to smack myself for being so silly. Of course that was what he’d meant. It was common knowledge that I planned the St. Patrick’s Day festivities. Even before I’d been promoted to my higher status, I’d loved to get my hands dirty, getting everything ready for the big day.
A minor holiday most other places, St. Paddy’s day was a big deal in our neck of the woods, for no other reason than our high number of displaced Irish. Not that it was much of a holiday back in Ireland, but it is interesting what one gets used to as a matter of tradition. It also helped that, if they’d ever actually lived in Ireland (which most of them didn’t), the citizens tended to be under ten when they set foot on American soil, so the culture shock would have been kept to a minimum.
“Candide?”
“Hey?”
“You went a blank there for a second.”
“Oh, right, sorry, drifted a bit.”
“Eat something, yeah?”
“Of course, I’ll send those contacts and then - ”
“Food first, then send me the contacts. I’ll be timing you to make sure you do.”
“Yes, Mr. Owens,” I said.
“Make sure you get some protein.”
The screen went to the screen it always did when the host ended the meeting. Taking a moment to still my heart, I went about following his orders. He probably wasn’t supposed to get quite that personal with his instructions, but I couldn’t help but be flattered by his concern.
He was boss at the office, but I couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to have him as my boss in a different, more sexy way. I’d heard about such things going on and had to admit, the idea turned me on. Not so much the spanking and stuff. I was really sensitive and not very good with pain. A more subtle, gentle domination though, could be just the thing to float my boat.
Pushing those wonderful ideas from my mind, I tried to focus on the tasks at hand. First food: eggs and cheese should do the trick. I hurriedly threw something together and scarfed it down in a rush.
Feeling much better, I scrubbed the few dishes required and set about organizing all my contacts into one place to send to Ryan. It still felt odd calling him Mr. Owens. I’d gotten so used to calling him ‘sir’ at least in my head, a little thrill going through me every time I did.
But he wanted to keep things familiar between us, or so it seemed, and I wasn’t about to complain. I did have to wonder what he wanted the contacts for. Not least because everyone knew I always did it. Still, it was not my place to question him. He was, after all the one who had been elected. I was just there to help him in his duties, any way he saw fit.
The contacts were sent with hopefully enough time between the meeting and the dispatch that he would believe that I ate first. I hated the idea of displeasing him. Not that I’d ever actually seen him mad. In some ways it would be almost worse for him to be disappointed.
