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Kingsley: Looks like your fancy contraption's not so good after all.
Luna: You liked it just fine the other day when I facetimed you during the meeting.
Kingsley: I don't recall, might need a refresher.
Luna: How about giving you a live presentation.
Kingsley: Luna Pham, did I ever tell you that you're one of the brilliant minds of your generation?
Luna: And here I was hoping you liked me for my body.
Kingsley: Knowing that is exactly why you're so brilliant.
Luna: I'm almost there.
Kingsley: Me too. I'm not actually at the office. I had to run out and get something.
Luna: Ooh what is it?
Kingsley: I was going to show you when I picked you up but I guess I might as well throw it away now.
Luna: Jerk. Race you to your office. Loser gives the other a massage. A proper one, not the kind where you're just trying to feel me up.
I jump out of the Uber almost before it's come to a full stop, wanting to beat Kingsley to his office. I wave Jim over and manage to convince him to let me up in Kingsley's private elevator, which (1) would get me up there faster and (2) would stop him from using it to get there before me.
"Hey Marcky! Loving this suit on you!" I shout as I race into Kingsley's office, and collapse in his chair, spinning it around so that it's facing the door so he can see I'm there when he arrives.
Singing under my breath, I lean back, crossing my legs at the ankles on his desk, thinking about how just a few days ago I had pretty much almost died from pleasure right here.
A blush spreads like wildfire up my body, up my thighs and between my legs, and I pull them down, suddenly feeling self conscious.
I accidentally kick over a pile of papers on his desk, and ten folders go flying onto the floor.
"Fuck!!" I watch the papers scatter over the floor. "Marcky, help!"
Kingsley's assistant wanders into the room, his arms full of his own stack of papers, eyeing the mess on the floor.
"Uh, what did you do?"
"What do you think? I made a mess of His Highness's desk."
Marcus whistles, still staring at the mess. "He's going to kill you."
"You think I don't know that? Quick! He's on his way back! You have to help me."
"Nuh-uh. This is all you," he says, waving his hand over the scattered papers.
I jump off the chair and drop to my knees gathering up the papers and stuffing them into folders.
"Look. I will get make it up to you. Get him to come in late on Friday. Don't you have that concert on Thursday night? Wouldn't it be great to come in an hour later?"
"Deal!" Marcus joins me, quickly piling the papers into a pile and handing them to me.
I'm desperately stuffing them back into the folders that I don't even pay attention to the documents.
That is, until a black and white printed image on the top sheet that Marcus hands me catches my eye.
I tuck it into the folder before I realize what it is, and then I stop, taking it out again.
