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God, it felt good. My tip was already leaking, and it was all too easy to imagine that the hand wasn’t my own. No, it was my assistant’s, with her burgundy painted nails and small, talented fingers. I could see her so easily, kneeling in the shower, the water pouring down her thick, dark hair, those green eyes staring up at me all wide and innocent instead of calculated and measured.
The thought was intoxicating, rolling over me until I was thoroughly drunk on the idea. My imagination cooked up what kind of sounds she would make, trying each one on like a different outfit.
Would she moan outright? No, I would have to work hard to get that kind of sound out of her. Would she whimper, her mouth so full of me that only plaintive little whines came out?
I throbbed in my own hand with that thought.
“Yeah, we’ll go with that,” I gasped to no one but the shower hand.
I’d never been so enraptured by a fantasy, focusing on every detail of her that my mind could conjure up. I was so deep in it, I didn’t realize how close I was until I spilled all over my own hand, leaving me gasping and leaning back against the shower wall.
Shit.
I stood there, breathless and boneless, shaken by the intensity of what I had just felt. Somehow, I managed to turn off the rush of water, but my hands felt like they belonged to someone else. Someone who hadn’t just masturbated their soul out of their dick. What the hell was wrong with me?
I stared at the wall, trying to bring my brain back to business. How long had I even been in the shower, fantasizing about an employee like an idiot?
“Sir? Mr. Fitzgerald?” Speak of the devil, it was my assistant’s voice coming from the other side. “I have your lunch. Would you like me to place it on your desk?”
Just hearing her voice was enough to put me back on edge. Suddenly I was very done being the coward. We were in my office and she was in my space. I wouldn’t let her chase me out of it like I was scared of cooties.
Wrapping a towel around my waist, I strode to the bathroom door and opened it. She clearly heard me, turning to the sound, but the look of shock on her face as she saw me was everything I hoped for and more.
I was perfectly covered from the waist down. Nothing improper, unless shins were suddenly an erogenous zone I hadn’t heard about. But one wouldn’t have been able to guess that by her expression. Those green eyes went wide, and her cheeks flushed red, giving my masturbatory fantasy real world details to fill in the blank.
“Do me a favor and set it all out for me. They always have it way too hot at first to make sure it doesn’t get cold and soggy on the trip.”
I watched as her eyes roved over me, categorizing every single detail about me the same way I had seen her deconstruct so many other things. It was like her brain was sorting me, storing away enough stimuli to make the red in her cheeks spread to the rest of her face.
“I didn’t know there was a full bathroom in there,” she said finally, that small, pink tongue of hers coming out to run along her lower lip with nerves.
That alone almost was my undoing and I flashed her a smile. “There are a lot of things about GSME I’m sure you don’t know,” I said before closing the door once again.
Sure, a shower in the middle of the day was strange, but it had certainly revealed some interesting things. Such as that my assistant was indeed human and wasn’t impervious to my presence. She was just very good at keeping all of that behind her professional mask.
I couldn’t help but smile as I went about fully drying myself. I’d been so caught up in reveling in how she kept rising to all my challenges that I had missed the greater picture in front of me. Which was exactly how much she could be a challenge for me.
It could be a bit like a game of chess between the two of us, always watching, always figuring out the best move or strategy. I could see the game stretching out before us in a long, twisting and entirely too fun test.
But that in turn just made me wonder how much I could get away with before she even realized what kind of game she was playing.
Beverly
“Morning, Bev!”
“Morning, Sharon!” I called back to the front receptionist as I headed towards the elevator that would take me up to Mr. Fitzgerald’s office.
Somehow, we were reaching the end of my third week with the CEO and I was feeling fairly confident that I was going to hit my one-month mark. Even though things had gotten a little… weird.
