Chapter 10

Oliver

I couldn’t help it. When I saw her standing in my office doorway, I knew I needed to have her, our deal be damned. I would never have believed it possible for her to get more attractive, but I should have known. Things that are inaccessible to me are always more tempting to me than those that aren’t.

I had my way with her on the desk and watched her as she lost control of body, mind, and soul. Her eyes were beautiful and clouded with her arousal, and I wanted more than anything to take her as hard as I could; but I restrained myself, teasing her, and finally, only when she begged, did I satisfy both our desires.

Afterward, my desk was a disaster. I dressed and put things back in order, wiping down the edge of the desk. I had taken her so quickly, all she needed to do to dress was put her panties back on and pull her skirt down, which she did, then bent down to help pick up the things from my desk that had fallen to the floor during our passionate fucking.

“Do you eat in the cafeteria often?” I asked her. The cafeteria was something we had begun just two years earlier, in response to the employees’ requests.

“I usually don’t,” she said. “It’s not hugely expensive, but if I ate there every day it would add up. I tend to bring my lunches and dinners; I just didn’t have time today.”

“What was taking up your time?” I watched her carefully. Was she dating someone? A stab of jealousy ran through me even before she’d answered the question. The nervous look that came over her eyes did not reassure me.

I’ve spent a lot of years learning people, watching their subtle body movements, and Becka was surprisingly easy to read. She was hiding something; there was no question there. Her eyes were flicking back and forth and she blushed, even deeper than the flush of her sexual gratification.

“I was doing some work on my dissertation,” she said quickly. “But my computer has a virus on it, so I had to stop. It was a good thing, too, because I’d have been late to getting to the lab if I hadn’t stopped when I did.”

“Late, huh?” I said, pausing to move a lock of her hair from the side of her cheek. “You know the penalties for tardiness are very… stiff.”

She blushed more deeply, but this was a blush of arousal, not of embarrassment. “You’re a bad influence on me, Oliver,” she whispered.

“Let me take you to dinner,” I said suddenly. I’d had an idea… one that had been floating in my mind for more than a week. Becka’s presence in my office seemed right. My current assistant, Megan, had been incredibly flaky lately.

I didn’t know why; I hadn’t asked. She’d been showing up late, forgetting to communicate with me about various aspects of the business, and, worst of all, she’d double booked me for two extremely important meetings.

I knew Becka’s interest in Neuotova was from the food science perspective, not the secretarial, but perhaps there was a way I could convince her that it would work to her advantage.

She hesitated at my invitation, looking at me somewhat suspiciously. “Why?” she asked.

“Because we like each other, and I think we can both agree that it’s been a long few weeks, a month even, without being able to respond to each other in the way that feels most natural. I often take employees out for coffee, so we can do that if you prefer, but I enjoy eating meals and I know you do too.”

“Nothing fancy,” she said. “Nothing where you’re going to order for me twelve hours in advance.”

“Deal,” I said, smiling. She hated that I’d ordered food for her at two of the restaurants I’d taken her before we made our agreement that she would intern at Neuotova and, as a paid internship, we would no longer be intimate. “Tomorrow night?”

She agreed, and I unlocked the door and she went back to her section of the building. I looked at my assistant’s desk and was not surprised to see it empty. I had no idea where she was, and a swell of anger arose in me. I was going to have to fire her… and I was going to replace her with Becka.

***

Monday morning when I walked into my office, Becka was sitting at Megan’s old desk. She smiled when she saw me, but her smile was strained. Getting her to agree to be my assistant hadn’t been easy, but, eventually, she had complied.

I’d taken her to the restaurant of her choice, a diner just off campus that served surprisingly good, albeit greasy, food. We’d had burgers and beer and I was once again surprised by her ability to be perfectly comfortable in a cocktail dress or in jeans and a sweater.

I’d proposed the idea of being my assistant by asking if she was facing any limitations with her research. Again, her energy had shifted just as it had in my office and I sensed she was holding something back as she agreed, slowly, that, yes, she was facing some limitations. I asked if she would like to have full access to all of Neuotova’s resources.

I, of course, had never given that privilege to Megan, but it was possible on the computer system in my office, to which my assistant’s computer was linked, for my assistant to have full access to the majority of documents in the system. Not my private files, obviously, but anything that would help her with her dissertation could be at her fingertips.

She had looked at me suspiciously. “What do I need to do to gain this access?” she asked.

“Simple,” I said. “Become my assistant. Megan has completely flaked out and I can no longer trust her. I need a new assistant. anyway, and I do trust you.” I shrugged, trying to make it seem as though it was the most natural thing in the world and not in complete violation of our agreement.

“I can’t believe you expect me to agree to that,” she said.

But, after some convincing, and her taking some time to think things over, she had agreed and now, here she sat at her desk, just twenty feet from my own, looking absolutely edible in black pants and a peach sweater that highlighted every curve from her waist to her neck and back again.

“Good morning, Dr. Weeks,” she said politely. Her tone was docile but her eyes flashed fire. I knew she wasn’t entirely happy with how I had altered our arrangement. But, I also couldn’t help but notice that she was there, which meant she was at least willing to do it. The question now was, would I be able to keep my hands off of her when she was so close to me. Somehow, I doubted it.