He’s going to be My good boy, he just doesn’t know it yet. He walks by my cube every day on the way to his corner office. He wears those beautiful thousand-dollar suits and his briefcase probably costs more than my laptop. The three hundred people who report to him tremble when he glances their way.
I see his direct reports smile at him and kiss his ass, and he laughs like it’s his due. I’m fairly certain that he doesn’t know I’m alive.
I’ve seen some of the office whores give him the eye or bend over to be sure he gets a good look at their fake tits or too-lean asses. I’m sure he’s got a queue of women who would be thrilled to blow a corporate director.
I just shake my head when they talk about him. That’s not the key to a man like him. He might fuck them once or twice, but that’s not what he’s really looking for.
Last month when the CIO came through, I saw the end of his one-on-one meeting with her. Our CIO is a bulldog in tailored Versace and sky-high stilettos – the whole office holds its breath when she walks through. When she caught his gaze, he dropped his eyes.
She stepped into his personal space and he darted his gaze up to hers for a moment then stepped back. She gave him her trademark predatory smile and he looked uncertain. And when she walked out, he took a deep breath – and I saw him adjust his hard cock.
It’s precisely 6 pm when he leaves his office. I step out into the hall. I drop my pen just as he nears me and I bend over to pick it up. I’m wearing a black skirt suit and my highest red heels. He stops to look at what I’ve got and I can almost read his mind.
Another office whore. I stand up and look him right in the eyes, challenging him. He blinks in surprise and before he can recover I step into his personal space. He instinctively moves back against the wall.
“Excuse me,” I say softly, still keeping my eyes on his. His breath catches and he looks swiftly away. After a moment, I move past him. I don’t look back but I feel his eyes on me as I sway down the hall.
The next morning, he walks to my cube and stops. He looks like he wants to say something but I raise my eyebrows at him and he clears his throat and moves on. I smile to myself. He’ll be thinking about me all day. He probably believes he’ll get into my panties – and I suspect he will, but not in quite the way he’s thinking.
An hour later, an instant message from him pops up on my screen. It says, “Come to my office.” I respond with, “Ask me nicely.” There’s a lag of a few minutes and I know he’s debating with himself. Then the screen flashes and I see, “Please come to my office.” I respond with, “Good boy.” Then I walk down the hall.
He’s frowning when I step into his office. No one has treated him as I just did in a very long time. As I shut the door, he gestures curtly toward one of the chairs near his desk. I give him an expectant look and after a moment he says, “Please sit down.” I don’t say, “good boy” but I’m thinking it as I smile at him and, from the way his cheeks flush, he knows it.
The silence stretches. His gaze strays down my body, lingering on my crossed legs. I let him look but my smile fades to a neutral expression. If he wants another smile, he’ll have to earn it.
“Was there something you wanted?” I ask him.
He clears this throat and says, “Do I have to ask nicely?”
“Only if you expect me to answer.” I lick my lips and he shifts in his expensive leather chair. From the way he’s looking at me, I know his cock is as hard as a fence post.
He makes a last grasp at dignity when he says, “Do you know who I am?”.
“Yes,” I say, tapping one red fingernail against my bottom lip. “Do you know who you are?”.
He doesn’t answer. I stand up and walk out of his office.
6 pm rolls around and I hear his footsteps stop outside my cube. I don’t turn around. He takes a deep breath and says one word: “Please.”
I turn and give him the smile he’s earned as I say, “Good boy.”