Submitting to Her (8 page)

While I was still watching her walking off
toward the elevators, subtly trying to make it look as though I
wasn't, I noticed an email pop up on my screen.

Aiden,

I have a meeting in Annapolis. I'll be back
this evening for your briefing.

Make it good, I really want to pump you for
information on this one.

Zoey

I prepared the most in-depth report possible
on our potential client. I couldn't quite re-write every line of
their software platform, but I was getting close to it by the end
of the afternoon as the rest of my team headed home, I knew so much
about them.

I waited nervously as all around me picked up
and left, as though I were waiting for an appraisal or exam.
Print-outs of my briefing sat in front of me on clean paper warm
from the printer. The clock ticked loudly towards six o'clock,
six-thirty, seven. It was up on the wall maybe twenty yards away,
but the office was so silent it sounded as though it was just above
my desk.

Where was she?

The hum of a vacuum grew steadily, and then
there was the cleaner, venturing inside Zoey's office, and I felt
the gloom of disappointment choking my heart. It was really getting
late - surely Zoey was a no-show.

It was nearly seven o'clock when my phone
suddenly bleeped to announce the arrival of a text message.

> Meet me downstairs in the parking lot.
Z

That was all it was, but those few words lit
a fuse inside my chest, and I was suddenly up on my feet,
scrambling to put my arms in the sleeves of my jacket and grab my
briefing notes before bolting for the elevators. Zoey was here!

After a frustratingly slow descent in the
elevator, I came out into the barren concrete environs of the
parking lot, and for a moment wasn't entirely sure what I was
doing, or for what I was supposed to be looking. The place was
deserted - so much so that I could easily see over to my car, even
though I'd parked it a fair way from the door. There was somebody
standing by it - Zoey.

I raced over, but on the way tried to regain
some kind of dignity. She wouldn't want to have anything to do with
me if I made myself look like an idiot.

"Drive me home, Jones, will you?" she asked
me.

"Of course, Ma'am."

"You can start briefing me on the way."

It wasn't far to her place over by Patterson
Park, though the traffic made it slow.

Sitting in the back while I chauffeured her,
she seemed to listen to me carefully enough, and did ask
intelligent questions. I hadn't expected to have to go through it
all from memory, without any of the notes I'd prepared, but after
so many years of giving presentations, and the amount of time I'd
immersed myself in the inner workings of RJS, that was no feat.

I adjusted my rearview mirror so I could
glance at her now and then, to check on how she was taking my
presentation. I did get the impression she was slightly distracted
- but then seeing her back there through the mirror, I had to try
not to be distracted myself.

After a while, I saw her notice me glancing
at her through the mirror, and as I continued to go through my
research, she flashed me a sexy smile, and I actually blushed.

"Don't stop, Jones," she said, having
unfastened a few of her shirt buttons to show me some cleavage.
"Did I tell you to stop?"

"No Ma'am."

"So, then. You were saying about the
integration with other platforms…"

Indeed I had been discussing the enthralling
subject of current efforts at RJS to integrate its software with
the existing operating platforms of major clients, one way to
expand distribution and ease of adoption for their products. Yet it
was pretty difficult to continue as I looked into the mirror to see
my beautiful Zoey making herself look more like a sexy secretary
from a porn flick than my well-dressed boss.

Her shirt opened sufficiently to show her
lacy white bra, her skirt sliding gradually up to show the tops of
her stockings, and then at last her white lacy panties.

Oh God.

I was a little worried that people in other
vehicles, maybe even on the street, could see her - but she didn't
seem to care. Caressing her legs, the sound of her hands sweeping
over the nylon, I couldn't avoid looking.

Then she was stroking her pussy through her
underwear, her fingers tracing out little circles over the
luxurious lace, and I was having trouble keeping my eyes on the
road, let alone my thoughts in my presentation.

"…since 2009 they've been targeting the
healthcare sector with solutions that specifically cater to the
management of patient records."

"Is that right? Maybe we should be talking to
them about Health Professional."

"It's part of the package I've prepared."

"You can show me your package when we get to
my apartment, Jones."

I looked back to see her slip her panties
aside, her hands moving over her pussy. My cock was so hard as I
sat there, not quite knowing what to say. I could smell the faint
but growing aroma of her arousal as she touched herself, and it
sent shivers down my spine.

"Turn here," she said, directing me into a
residential street off the little park at the top of the hill.

I managed to focus enough to slot the car
into one of the few available places on the street, and then Zoey
leaned forward, and suddenly covered my face with what I knew
instantly was her underwear. I breathed in the exhilarating scent
of her perfume and her pussy.

"Are you ready to serve, Jones?"

"Of course, Ma'am."

"Good. I think this evening I need a
massage."

Zoey had a great place. It was a row house -
the end unit - two floors and a basement offering high ceilings and
stylish interior decor. Walking through the first floor's open plan
kitchen living space, which had the interior wall left as bare
brick to give the place a cozy, slightly artsy feel, we ascended to
a second floor that was white-washed throughout. This place had to
be three times the square footage of the cruddy suburban apartment
I shared with Robin. Spacious, bright, clean, it made me suddenly
covet her VP's salary.

The massage table was already set up in her
bedroom, making this after-hours visit appear a touch premeditated.
It was a sturdy-looking table with a cushioned brown-leather top
and strong steel legs that could probably have propped up a rhino
or two. Not a cheap massage table at all.

"I used to play tennis in college," she
explained as she noticed the look on my face. "I was always getting
muscle strains, so I used to get regular massages."

I actually found myself pleased to find the
old thing was a trifle dusty, it hadn't been used in a while.
Somehow the thought of her using it, that some masseur had touched
her body while she'd been stretched out before him, caused flickers
of jealousy within me.

"Hey, there's some towels in the closet down
the end of the hall," Zoey said, removing her glasses, then
ushering me away as she began to unfasten the buttons on her white
shirt. Calling after me, "Oh, and get some oil from the bathroom,
Jones!"

The stack of towels was easy enough to find,
and even they had a hint of luxury about them - white and fluffy
like the kind you'd want to steal from a top hotel. The oil was
hidden away behind the mirrored door of a bathroom cabinet above
the sink. Coconut-scented.

I returned to find her removing her white
lace bra, leaving such a stunning sight that it made me pause a
moment or two before re-entering the bedroom.

"Put the big towels down for me to lie on,"
she said, assuming I was there, so denying me the ability to wait
and gawp.

She already had a small towel - a bright pink
one - which she had hung around her waist. She climbed onto the
massage table and lay face-down. I draped my jacket over the arm of
one of the couches, and then proceeded to roll up my shirt sleeves,
knowing I'd only get oil all over them otherwise.

"Your briefing was good, Jones. You should
definitely get a reward for that. I think conversation privileges
for the rest of the evening might be a suitable reward, don't
you?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Okay, we'll relax our Question rule."

"Thank you, Ma'am."

"You going to take off your clothes? I can't
see my beautiful cock if you don't," she said, her voice so smooth
and seductive, lighting a fire within me.

She gave me a simple little silent nod, yet
those expressive dark eyes of hers made it clear she wanted to
watch me strip. I can tell you, it felt a lot easier taking my
clothes off in the confines of her private apartment. I still found
myself a touch nervous, but it was more about whether she was
impressed by what she saw, whether this lowly man was ultimately
going to be enough to maintain the affections of such a beautiful
woman than the issue of violating company rules.

Lowly man. Wow, this beautiful woman was
really affecting me. I was a regular gym user - I'd never had
qualms about stripping off in front of girls before, and I'd been
with countless. Yet somehow, with Zoey maintaining the balance of
power in our fledgling relationship, it all felt more significant.
There was more at stake, I was more desperate to make an
impression, it was more important than ever that my audience should
be satisfied with what I showed her.

"Mmm… that's better," she purred. "Underwear,
too. What's the use of overstepping the boundaries of employment
ethics if I can't see that wonderful beast?"

Down came my boxers, and I was suddenly
completely exposed to my boss again.

Her smile alone thickened my cock, and that
made her quietly catch her breath. God, even showing her the goods
felt a hundred times more significant than any of the girls I'd
been with before. As I dropped my underwear on the pile of my
clothes on the nearby couch, and went to pick up the bottle of oil
again, I felt a flicker of nerves again - I had never been in a
relationship where everything mattered so much. I was really
opening myself to pain if Zoey decided to drop me.

Pouring some of the coconut-scented oil into
my palm to warm it up before touching her, I tried to repress my
fears - they could do no good now. When the pain came, I'd just
have to suck it up. Having put her through what I did all those
months, I knew I fully deserved it.

"Maybe I'll keep feeling in the mood to
reward you if your massage is good."

"Thank you, Ma'am," I said, trying to keep
the emotion out of my voice.

"Okay, go ahead."

Facing away from where I stood, she was flat
out before me, her skin pale but smooth, and so soft to the touch -
even before I started applying the oil. I ran my hands over her
back and shoulders, sweeping over her to spread the slick
liquid.

"How did your meeting in Annapolis go?"

"Oh. so-so," she said. "There's an insurance
company over there I was hoping might be interested in Risk
Management, but I'm not sure they're going to bite."

"Insurance firms are getting smacked about by
the storms - I've had no luck with them for months."

"They were in International Liability last
year, so I figured they might be open to this," she said. "And they
seemed to be, at first. Took two hours to tell me their budget was
committed through next year."

I was no expert at massage, but I think I was
doing okay. I was certainly teasing out some sighs that sounded
promising, and even a few moans as I applied the pressure over her
muscles, particularly around her shoulders and neck.

"I guess toward the end of the meeting, I got
a little distracted," she said casually.

"You did?"

"Oh you know, knowing I had you on hand to
brief me when I got back."

"Do you want to go over the rest of the
numbers?"

She laughed, "You know I wasn't thinking
about the numbers, right?"

I coaxed the muscles in her arms, and she
moaned almost as though enjoying a mild orgasm. I wondered if this
could become a regular occurrence, and resolved to track down some
information about how to actually perform a decent massage, the
correct way. On this first occasion, I had only what I'd ever seen
in movies and on TV to guide me - and actually, I remembered a
girlfriend in college giving me a back rub a few times after a
football game, though that had always been more of a pretext for
sex.

It seemed like a straightforward way to make
Zoey feel good, too. I wouldn't say easy, because although I
started off touching her only lightly, I found that applying the
pressure seemed to make her moan a little more, encouraging me to
push more and more firmly into her muscles. Even with the oil to
help me, it was getting to be hard work after a while, but I had
this strange idea that if I could only learn what made her feel
good, she'd want to keep me doing this.

Oh, guys are so selfish, always thinking
about number one. And back then, I was still the same selfish guy,
I realize that. But the thing was, what I wanted more than anything
was Zoey, and so I found myself putting in a serious amount of
effort to make her feel good in the hope I'd keep her.

"Oh God, that feels amazing…"

It wasn't too hard to pick up, actually. I
experimented using different parts of my hand, the tips of my
fingers, even my wrist and forearm. When something seemed good, I
ran with it for a little while before moving on to something
else.

"You done this before, Aiden?" she asked. She
made me feel so warm inside using my first name now, it seemed so
soft, somehow, part of my reward.

"Nope," I said. "First time."

"Seriously? You never did this for a girl
before?"