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I set off towards the elevator leaving my new pet feeling flushed and frustrated. That means that tomorrow she is going to be even dirtier for me. I have plans to make and toys to buy.
Chapter Four
Mandy
The elevator doors close on the hot stranger with a hush. Once he is gone, it’s like all the tension in my body suddenly leaves, and I have to try to not slink down to the floor in relief. Instead, I roll my chair forward, fold my arms onto my desk and let my head drop down on top of them.
That experience in the basement was the hottest and most fucked up thing I have ever done. Even the slightest remembrance of the stranger’s hands on my body makes me feel flushed. My pussy is beginning to ache for release again. I want to get myself off, but now I have nowhere to go. That thought alone darkens my mood. How am I going to get through my boring workday without my special basement time?
Fuck.
I take a few breaths to calm myself and try to get my mind back on work. There is a big accounting presentation due at the end of the week, and while Aston and Kane are good guys —good bosses — they still expect the highest from their employees. I need to do my part to make sure the report is everything they want.
Ping.
Ugh.
Slowly I lift my head and stare at my computer screen. I have a new email. One from Sloane, McKenzie Tech’s latest CFA and my newest manager. Sloane has been a friend of mine, on and off, but since she got her new position, she’s been a little too serious.
The email has the same short line in the subject and in the body: come to my office. Since the mysterious man was just in there moments ago, this cannot be good. My stomach tightens in knots. Did he tell her what happened? Am I about to be fired? Fuck!
I twist my chair to the far side of my cubical, legs swinging, and pull myself up. Going to Sloane’s office seems like the worst thing in the world right now. All I want to do is go home or wake up because this whole day feels like a weird dream.
The short stretch of green carpet between my cubical and the manager’s office seems to get longer with every step I take. I don’t want to do this, and everything in my body is telling me to run. My breath comes in pants. I swear the walls and their banks of windows, which usually seem so bright and friendly, suddenly seem ominous and tall.
Fuck, I have to be stronger than this. Sure, I made a stupid mistake letting that man play with me, but there is no reason for me to not hold my head high. So, I’m a sexual woman, so what? I nod to myself and then run my fingers through my hair a bit to make sure I still look professional.
Sloane’s door is open. When I glance in, she is hunched over her desk, typing furiously. Her long face is pulled between the tight bun on her head and a deep frown. She is usually primly put together. Sloane comes from an old-money family. She likes to remind everyone of that fact with her clothing and strict attention to grooming. I’ve never seen the woman with a hair out of place. Even her “messy updos” have every strand exact. She doesn’t look up when I lean against her door, so I knock.
“Take a seat. I’ll be with you in a second.”
Slowly, I wander in and look at the chair placed in front of her desk. It’s a bit low. Which means I will have to look up at her. Not that I don’t have to usually. Before I can sit down, Sloane waves a finger at the door. “Shut it.”
I shuffle back over, putting both hands on the door and shutting it gently. For some reason, I don’t want the whole floor to know that I’m here. Although they probably already do. Anytime anyone approaches Sloane’s office, it’s all over watercooler in seconds. With the door closed, I walk back over and slip into the low chair. The edge of Sloane’s desk is even with my shoulders. I probably look like a child who is waiting to talk to the principal. But such is my life.
A few minutes slip by as Sloane continues to type furiously. My dread is replaced with curiosity. What is going on? She seems to have totally forgotten that I am there. I shift in my seat, trying to find an angle where I can see her computer screen, but there isn’t one. She probably arranged the office that way. After all, financial stuff is too important to be leaked to some outside source.
