Monday came too soon for Nicole Masters.

The most important day of her life, and she felt ill prepared.

Nicole hadn’t slept the night before. Instead, she’d spent hours laying out different outfits, going through possible interview questions. Her stomach churning, she’d taken six or eight Tums, read article after article about Jameson International on the Internet, and of course, she’d also researched Red Jameson, the high profile CEO and founder of the advertising agency. At only age thirty-two, the man was already a legend in the advertising world and a heartthrob in the rest of the world.

While playing around online, she’d even run across a web forum seemingly devoted to discussing Red’s every relationship, both real and imagined. The forum participants gossiped endlessly about celebrity women he’d been spotted with, and then discussed (in great detail) what they would do if they had five minutes alone with him.

Red Jameson had been featured on the cover of both Forbes and Rolling Stone. He was just that cool.

Finally, around five-thirty a.m., when the darkness was starting to give way to a gray and foggy morning, Nicole began drifting to sleep.

Her alarm woke her just half an hour later. She groaned and sat up, feeling like she’d spent the previous night drinking tequila. Or maybe bashing herself in the head with a hammer.

Either way, she had to pull herself together. She ran to the bathroom and started the lengthy process of getting ready for the day. Shaving her legs in the bath, washing and conditioning her hair. As she rinsed the soap out of her eyes, images of Red Jameson flashed in her mind. He was staring at her and his expression was one of disapproval. He shook his head.

No. You can’t have the internship, Nicole. You aren’t ready for the real world. Maybe you should have gone to grad school instead.

When she opened her eyes, her heart was pounding. Think positive thoughts, she admonished herself.

This interview is going to go wonderfully. I deserve this internship. I’ve got all the skills they require and that’s why I’ve made it this far.

Nicole nodded, heartened by her own propaganda, and applied moisturizer to her skin. Her skin was smooth, silky, and pale. It was one of her attributes that seemed to get the most comments from men and women alike. She rarely had a blemish on her face, or any kind of acne.

Other than her nearly perfect skin, Nicole had always considered herself rather average. She wasn’t too tall or too short. She wasn’t too skinny or too fat. She had breasts but not the kind that men tended to stare at like salivating dogs. She liked to run two or three times a week, so she had some muscle tone, but wasn’t ripped like some of the girls around town.

Her hair was brown and she usually wore it back in a simple ponytail.

Today Nicole needed to be sophisticated, though. Jameson International was a cutting-edge ad agency, and she couldn’t come in like some hick with hay in her teeth.

So she was dressing up way beyond anything she felt comfortable in.

She’d even gone into credit card debt yesterday at Prada, buying a full ensemble: high heels, skirt, blouse, purse. The entire thing had come to just under two thousand dollars. She’d spread it across two cards.

TWO THOUSAND DOLLARS.

More than she’d spent on clothes all of last year.

But this wasn’t for just any old internship. Nicole had beaten the odds just getting this interview, and now she needed to knock it out of the park. She needed to look global, she needed to look rich and worldly or she didn’t stand a chance.

Out the door and on the train, she tried to stay calm. Focused on a little breathing meditation she’d learned from a hippie ex-boyfriend. He’d taught her to meditate and he’d also tried to convince her to give him a rim job, which Nicole had politely declined.

They’d ended soon after that.

A short walk from the train to midtown and she was suddenly there. The large glass building that stretched almost to the sky. Jameson International. It looked like a block of onyx.

Nicole’s breath caught in her chest.

She shook in her heels for a moment.

And then she went inside.

The main entrance was huge, with immense marble floors and a fountain. Men and women in suits with perfect hair were filing through the doors and waiting for elevators. At the large security desk in the center of the room, three black men were checking in guests.

Nicole approached them with a smile. None of them smiled back.

“Name please?” One bald man asked. He glared at her like she might be a potential terrorist.

Her voice came out so low that she needed to start over. Nicole cleared her throat. “I’m Nicole Masters? Here for an interview at eight-thirty?”

The man nodded and turned to his computer. He typed quickly. Nodded. “Sign in please.” He tapped a clipboard next to her on the desk and she quickly wrote her name and the time and date.

“Look over here please,” he said, and when she looked at him, there was a sudden flash in her eyes.

“Just a moment.” Seconds later he’d printed out a picture of her and made a laminated badge, which he handed to her. “Please wear this at all times while you’re in the building, Ms. Masters.”

She glanced at the badge. In the picture, she looked like a cross-eyed Japanese woman. “I wish you’d at least told me to smile,” she joked.

He reacted as if she’d never spoken. “Take the elevators on your left up to the fifteenth floor. You’ll be meeting with Glen Goldman.”

“Thanks,” she whispered.

Her stomach was churning, anxious. She dug in her purse and grabbed a couple of Tums, chewed them as she crammed into the elevator with the perfect employees of Jameson International.

She disembarked on the fifteenth floor as instructed, into a wide hallway with black marble floors. To the right was a closed oak door. To the left was a set of glass double doors, and behind them, a waiting room of sorts.

She walked through the doors.

There was a striking, tall blond woman behind an immaculate desk. She wore a Bluetooth headset and sat in front of a computer. “Can I help you?”

She told her she was here to interview with Glen Goldman.

“Absolutely.” The blond woman smiled in the most perfunctory way possible. “Please take a seat, he’ll be with you momentarily.”

Nicole took a seat in one of the black leather waiting chairs. It felt gorgeous and sleek and glossy, like something out of a four-star hotel room. There was a glass table nearby, with magazines carefully fanned out across it.

They were advertising industry magazines. Two of them had Red Jameson on the cover. On one, he was holding a golden CLIO statue. In another, he was holding a cigar in each hand and grinning. Beneath his picture it said, How One Man Can Have Too Much of Everything and Still Not Enough.

It was hard for her to tell if Red was smolderingly sexy because he was good looking and photogenic, or if it was because Nicole happened to know how smart and innovative and powerful he was. Maybe it was all of the above. His looks were interesting. He was supposedly of Irish and German descent, but he looked more Italian or Persian. His skin was dark, almost coffee colored. His eyes were hooded. His hair was slightly curly, black and wiry. His nose was long and a little hooked at the end, and he possessed a strong, chiseled jaw, surprisingly thick neck and broad shoulders.

In his slick gray and black suits he sometimes looked more like an athlete dressed up as a businessman, rather than someone who belonged in neckties and wingtips.

“Miss Masters?”

The blonde receptionist’s voice startled Nicole out of her reverie. She realized she had just been staring at the magazine with Red’s picture on it.

She stood up too quickly and nearly lost her balance.

The blonde smiled as if embarrassed for her. “I’ll bring you to your interview with Mr. Goldman now.”

***

The interviews turned out to be surprisingly pleasant, if exhausting.

Glen Goldman was older, thin and balding. He reminded Nicole of her Uncle Regis, who used to always pretend to find quarters in her ear when she was little. Glen asked her about college, he seemed genuinely happy for her that she was so excited about advertising.

“It’s a young persons game now,” he said, blinking. “If you don’t mind working sixty or seventy hours a week minimum, you’ll be fine.”

“I can’t wait to work,” she said, truthfully. “I’ve always enjoyed hard work.”

Blinking ferociously, he nodded and smiled. “I like your attitude.

After Glen, a middle aged severe woman named Remi Danvers came in. Remi was an art director at the agency. She had short brown hair, enormous golden earrings and an even more enormous golden necklace. Her white button down shirt was unbuttoned far enough to reveal her nonexistent cleavage. Remi fired off questions about Nicole’s resume, almost as if trying to catch her in a lie.

After fielding twenty or thirty rapid-fire questions about her previous work experience, Nicole had waited for Remi to move on to some other topic. But the woman didn’t do any such thing. She simply smiled briskly, stood up and left the room.

Next, the creative director entered. His name was Edward Lane and he was stocky, grinning, with a thin red beard. He had a phone at his side that constantly buzzed as he studiously ignored it. Nicole tried to talk without being distracted by the incessant buzzing sound.

Edward was also friendly, although his blue eyes were watchful and perceptive. At one point he asked her how she handled conflict, and she said that she typically avoided it.

“You won’t be able to avoid it here,” he said softly. His eyes watched her intently.

She took a breath. “I look forward to learning, and if conflict is part of that, I welcome the challenge.”

“You may find yourself under a great deal of mental and emotional pressure. The strain can be enormous. Working for Red is never easy.”

She swallowed. “You mean Mr. Jameson?”

He nodded. “He’s also very egalitarian and likes to meet everyone. That’s why he interviews all prospective employees.”

Nicole gulped audibly. “He interviews everyone?”

“Yes, if we think the candidate is appropriate Jameson International material. In fact, there’s a good chance you’ll be meeting him very soon,” he grinned.

Nicole licked her lips and tried to still her shaking hands. “It must be overwhelming for someone with Mr. Jameson’s schedule and responsibilities to meet with everyone.”

Edward laughed heartily. “We’ve been trying to get him to stop for years, but he won’t. That’s how seriously he takes his business. And he expects that dedication and intensity from every one of his employees.”

“I find that refreshing,” she lied. Actually she found it horrifying. She wasn’t ready to come face to face with the man she’d been studying from afar.

Edward sat back and looked at her anew. “Working for Red can be particularly challenging for female employees.”

“It can?” She didn’t know exactly what Edward meant, but her arms broke into gooseflesh anyway. She thought back to the things she’d seen on those online forums. Women who worked here probably fought tooth and nail to gain his approval and notice.

Edward tapped the table lightly with his hand. “In any case, you’re a great candidate, and everyone speaks highly of you. I’m going to recommend that Red meet with you today.”

She felt woozy from all of this. “You’re hiring me for the internship position?”

Edward sighed. “Pending Red’s approval. But that’s why I’m trying to give you fair warning. This is a tough business, but for someone like yourself it could be positively torturous.”

“Torturous?”

“Just…be prepared, Nicole. If you can do this job, you’ll go very far in this business. But if you’re a wilting flower—it won’t be a pretty sight. I’ve seen the ones who crack and it can get ugly.”

“I won’t crack,” she said, suddenly sitting up straighter. She didn’t like his implication that she was a wilting flower. Maybe she was fresh out of college, but she’d never failed at anything in her life. In high school, she’d been debate champion three years running and when she was even younger she’d won chess tournaments playing against kids twice her age.

Edward seemed to take stock of her and find what he’d wanted to see. He smiled, stood up and shook her hand. “I’m sure we’ll be seeing a lot more of one another in the future, Nicole. Just hang tight for a minute.”

And then he left her alone in the small conference room.

She was suddenly aware of being incredibly thirsty. Checking her phone, she realized she’d been in here for nearly an hour and a half now. It hadn’t felt nearly that long, but time had flown in the midst of her anxiety, and the endless questions and trying to make a good impression.

Well, apparently she’d done it. Now she just had to make a good impression on him.

As if to confirm this, the blonde receptionist opened the door to the conference room. “Miss Masters? Please come with me.”

She wanted to get a drink of water, but the receptionist was already walking ahead of her, striding confidently, elegantly. Nicole was too intimidated to ask for a cup of water. Instead she followed her to a different set of elevators.

When the doors opened, the inside was opulent. It looked like an old fashioned elevator from some nineteenth century mansion. A man dressed in a dark blue uniform smiled at them. “Top floor?” he asked with a delicate smile.

“Yes,” the blonde replied, barely looking at him.

Nicole tried to smile and thank him. He pressed the button for the fifty-fifth floor and put his hands behind his back. When the elevator pinged and stopped, he held out his hand and tilted his head gently toward the hallway.

The blond receptionist didn’t leave the elevator. “Red’s expecting you,” she said with an enigmatic look in her eye.

Nicole suddenly didn’t want to leave. Her feet felt rooted to the floor. But she forced herself to move and then she was in the hallway and the elevator doors had closed behind her.

The top floor felt like a different world entirely from the rest of the building. More like a penthouse apartment. The walls were dark and there was lush red carpeting. The hallway hooked abruptly to the left and then she came to a set of heavy wooden doors.

Next to the doors was a rolling table with a tray of food on top of it. The food was just some fruit and a half eaten sandwich. Somehow the sight of wilted lettuce calmed her. It was only food after all. This was just a hallway in a building. Yes, he was rich beyond her wildest dreams, but he was also just a man who ate fruit and sandwiches with old lettuce sometimes. He hadn’t even finished his meal.

She knocked on the wooden doors.

“Come in,” he said from the other side. His voice was slightly muffled but distinctly his. She’d watched hours of interviews and footage of him on YouTube, after all.

She opened the doors and strode into his office as confidently as possible.

When she entered, she was still shocked by the enormity of the room. It was bigger than three of her apartments put together. There was a full-length pool table on one side, a fully stocked bar near that. On the other side of the room was a set of leather furniture facing a television screen that took up an entire wall.

Red was sitting at his desk. It was a monstrosity; old, ornate, it must have weighed a ton. Behind him was a floor to ceiling picture window that overlooked the entire city. However, he’d lowered one of the curtains, which blocked most of the light. She could still see the city filtering through the semi-opaque material.

“Don’t be intimidated,” he said, standing and walking around his desk. He was wearing one of his typical gray suits. It was almost reflective. His tie was purple and thin. In person he was larger than she expected, and his magnetism was stunning. She found herself star struck and nearly speechless.

“Hello,” she murmured.

He continued to close in on her. His presence was so intense that she didn’t know what to do. Literally. She was frozen in place and he just kept moving until he was no more than six inches from her. He was like a movie star stepping off the big screen and smiling at her. His eyes were so confident, his manner was so strong and powerful. No boy or man she’d ever met could come close to projecting his sex appeal or his intelligence.

“I’m Red Jameson, founder and CEO of Jameson International.” He held out his large hand to her.

She shook it. “I’m aware of who you are,” she said, sounding more abrupt than she’d intended.

He grinned and held her hand for longer than was comfortable. “What else are you aware of?”

She pulled her hand back. “I’ve read a lot about the company.”

“Have a seat, Miss—“

“Masters.”

“Miss Masters. What a wonderful name.” He smiled briefly. “Would you like something to drink?”

“Please.” She was grateful for him asking. Her mouth tasted like chalk.

He moved toward the bar, which was so far away it might as well been in a different state. “What would you like?” he called back.

“Water’s fine.”

He grabbed a bottle and came back, his movements graceful and sleek.

She sat down in the chair opposite his desk and crossed her legs, suddenly aware of the way her skirt rode up her thighs. She felt, in his presence, a vulnerability and nakedness that surprised her.

“Here,” he said, handing her a cold bottle of Evian. “Let me know if you need anything else. To use the bathroom perhaps?”

“No, thank you.” She opened the water and took a few long gulps.

Red sat on the edge of his desk. His leg was only a small distance to hers, he could have practically touched her if he’d just extended his black leather shoe a little bit.

“So,” he said, “I’ve heard very positive things about you so far.”

“I’m glad.”

“What did you think of everyone you met?”

She pondered. “Everyone seems really nice.”

His eyes focused on hers with an intensity that was disconcerting. She dropped her gaze to the floor.

Red didn’t say anything until she looked at him again. “Everyone seems nice?” he repeated. “That’s a bit trite. I don’t like canned answers, Miss Masters.”

A small buzz of fear ran through her stomach. She’d made it this far. How humiliating would it be to lose the job because Red Jameson himself hated her?

“Sorry,” she said. “I’m very nervous.”

“No need to be. We’re just talking.”

“You’re a pretty big deal,” she said, gripping the bottle more tightly.

That made him laugh. He threw his head back. His dark curly hair bounced a little as he did so. When he looked at her again, he seemed looser somehow. “I like that,” he told her. “I’m a pretty big deal. I need to have you get on the phone and remind my parents of that.”

“They don’t know it?”

He shook his head. “Unfortunately not. The big offices and jets don’t fool the people who raised you.”

“Well, I didn’t raise you so…I’m kind of scared right now.”

He laughed again. “You’re honest, Nicole. I like that.”

She hadn’t told him her first name, but someone else must have. Obviously. He’d probably seen her resume too. But still, she liked the way he said her name. She re-crossed her legs and his eyes strayed to them before returning to her face.

“I’d work very hard if I get this internship,” she said, nervously twisting and untwisting the cap on her water bottle.

“I believe you would.” He got up from the desk and walked behind her chair, circling. “But then again, so would the hundreds of other applicants.”

“I know I can do this job.”

“What can you do? Tell me.”

“Anything and everything the creative department needs from me,” she said. “Making copies, getting coffee, faxes, emails, research, making phone calls.”

“Yes, yes, yes, to all of those things. But there’s more to it then that.” He stopped in front of her, sat on the desk again and folded his arms. “I need people who are fearless. Absolutely fearless. People who will go to the very edge of their capabilities and then beyond them. I want to hire people who will do whatever it takes to be here.”

“I’ll do whatever it takes,” she replied.

“I want to work with men and women that will follow me into battle, that will fight by my side. Because this business is very, very serious, and sometimes even dangerous.”

“Dangerous?”

He nodded. “I’ve had death threats. Once, a few years back in Abu Dhabi, I was nearly kidnapped.”

She wasn’t sure if she believed him. “You never said that in any of the interviews I read.”

He shrugged. “Some things aren’t meant for public consumption, Nicole.”

She nodded slowly.

“You don’t believe me?” he said.

She thought about it for a moment. “No,” she said. “I don’t.”

He stared at her a long time, so long that the spit in her mouth dried up. She knew in that instant, she’d blown it.

Suddenly he grinned again. “Good girl. You’re right, Nicole. I was lying about the kidnapping in Abu Dhabi. In actuality, I’ve had nothing but wonderful times there. The hotels are incredible, some of the best in the world.”

“I’m confused. So you weren’t kidnapped then?”

“It was a near kidnapping. And no, it never happened.” He stared at her.

She was aware again of her legs as he looked down at her. The skirt was really short, too short. Her legs were bare and smooth and soft.

Imagine if he put his hands on your bare legs right now. Pushed your skirt up…

“..do you?” he said.

“Excuse me?” she asked, flustered. Somehow she’d gone into a fantasy in the middle of the most important interview of her life.

Red scratched his chin. “It wasn’t important.”

“No, please.” She took a deep breath. “Please ask me again.”

“It’s not important. Really.” He locked his dark eyes on her once more.

She looked back at him, trying to hold his gaze. “Am I blowing this interview?” she asked, surprised that she’d just said it out loud.

“Blowing your interview?” He took a moment to consider it. “No, I don’t think you’ve done any such thing, Nicole. In fact, I’m very, very pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“Me too. It’s been nice meeting you, I mean.”

His eyes moved up and down her body as if evaluating a painting, and he rocked back against his desk, shook his head and laughed wildly. “I’m sorry, Nicole, but I really…I really can’t continue this.” He laughed again.

“Did I offend you?” she asked.

“Look,” he said. “I really need to go. I have a call to attend to. It was very nice meeting you.” He couldn’t even look at her now.

“But…but…I don’t understand…”

He sat down behind his desk, picked up the phone. A few seconds later he said, “Mary Anne, please come and meet Ms. Masters in my office. We’re done here.”

***

She sobbed on the train ride home. She didn’t care that people were watching her, thinking she was crazy.

She kept thinking about the look on his face as he’d ended the interview. He’d shown her to the door and that bitchy receptionist had been there, and next thing Nicole knew she was out on the street. Not a word about her being hired for the internship position.

It was clear she’d lost the job because Red didn’t like her.

She didn’t stop sobbing even when she got home and fell onto her bed, tears still pouring down her face.

Nicole replayed the interview with Red Jameson over and over in her mind, dissected every verbal exchange and tried to make sense of it. What had changed his mind so quickly? Was it her saying she didn’t believe his story about the kidnapping? Or was it when he looked her over and found her wanting?

She stripped off her expensive Prada clothing, angrily tossing it all on the floor of her room.

Luckily, Danielle wasn’t home yet, so she didn’t have to deal with the questions that would surely come from her nosey roommate.

Nicole stood in her bra and panties, mascara running down her cheeks, hair a mess. She looked at herself in the mirror. No wonder he doesn’t want me, she thought. I’m disgusting. My body isn’t like that blonde receptionist’s body. I don’t have the face of a Vogue model.

She’d been rejected by the most charismatic, powerful man she’d ever met. A man who she considered to be an idol, a celebrity. And what made it worse was the feeling that she’d been so close. Everyone there had liked her. She’d made it through the thousands of resumes, and then the phone interview, and even the three department members she’d met with.

They’d all approved of her, until him. Until Red Jameson himself had shot her down. As if he could smell her shame and failure and unimportance. He’d laughed her out of the office, if you wanted to get right down to it.

For the first time in her life, Nicole was so angry, so full of rage and despair that she literally didn’t know what to do. She was frozen in place. Eventually, she picked up her cell phone and checked to see if she’d gotten an email, voicemail, anything.

When she hadn’t, for a brief moment she considered smashing her cell phone against the wall. Why not? Who would she want to speak with after this horrible failure? It would make a good excuse to avoid everyone.

Sorry, mom, I couldn’t call you and tell you how things went at the interview. My phone’s broken.

It was crazy, but it might just be worth it, she thought, hefting the cell phone in her hand and considering the implications of its demise. Se34 And that’s when it started to buzz.

She turned it over and stared at it, mesmerized. It was buzzing just in time, as if it had known it was about to be launched and destroyed in mere seconds.

The number just said private, but she answered anyhow. “Hello?”

“I’m looking for Nicole Masters,” the male voice said.

“This is.” She held her breath.

“Red Jameson here.”

She literally could not speak. Why on earth would Red Jameson be calling her on her cell phone? There were a million people who made more sense. The HR rep, even Glen Goldman made more sense that the CEO of the company.

“Are you still there?” he asked.

“Yes…Yes…I’m just surprised.”

“We’ve decided to hire you for the internship position.”

“Oh.” She was so stunned that this was literally the only word that came out of her mouth. Oh. She sounded like she couldn’t possibly care less.

“Are you still interested?” he asked, sounding slightly amused now.

“Of course,” she rushed. “Oh my god, I’m…you have no idea how excited I am.”

“As are we. I think you’re going to do big things in this industry.”

She could feel her face growing hotter as the seconds passed. And then she realized that she was still naked. On the phone with the billionaire mogul, Red Jameson, stark naked!

“I can’t thank you enough, sir.”

“Can you start tomorrow?”

“Absolutely!”

He sighed deeply. “Good, Nicole.” There was a long pause. “Oh, and by the way…”

“Yes?”

“Those Prada shoes. You don’t need to go broke buying fancy outfits to come to work for me. Just wear something tasteful, but affordable. The expensive stuff will come in due time.”

“Yes sir.” She fell backwards on the bed, hiding her face in her hands.

“Report to Glen in the morning,” he said softly. “Goodbye Nicole.”

And then he was gone. She squealed to herself and began writhing in excitement. “Yes!” Nicole stood up and held her fists in the air, shook them at the heavens. “I did it!”

She lay back in bed pondering the phone call. When you thought about it, Red Jameson calling her was about the strangest thing that had ever happened to her. There was absolutely no reason for him to do it. His time was so valuable. Why did he make the call himself? Did he do that with all the new interns and employees?

She wanted to find out.

But first, she thought of his voice. She thought of his dark eyes. The way he said her name. It was a shock to realize how wet she was after simply being on the phone with him. Nicole had never considered herself to be a very sexual person. In fact, she didn’t masturbate all that much. When Danielle had first moved in, she’d joked about all of her dildos and vibrators and had been shocked when Nicole revealed she didn’t own any.

“Don’t you ever get yourself off?” Danielle had asked.

“Sometimes. I just…use my hand.”

“And how often do you do that?”

“I don’t know. A few times a year.”

Danielle had been awestruck by that admission. “A few times a year? A fucking year?”

Nicole hadn’t been joking about her sexual proclivities. She didn’t think of herself as a prude, she didn’t have a problem with premarital sex or anything. She just wasn’t that into it all. She’d had sex with only two boys in her life. One had been her high school boyfriend, Tim, who she’d dated for almost four years.

The second had been Alec, a guy she’d only been on a handful of dates with her senior year of college.

In both cases, the sex itself had been forgettable; neither bad nor good. She certainly hadn’t achieved orgasm, another fact that Danielle found incomprehensible.

But lying in bed nude, after hearing the best news of her life and speaking with a powerful man that she practically worshipped—Nicole found herself incredibly turned on. To say this was a rare occurrence would have been an understatement.

And she was so wet. Her fingers traced around the edges of her pussy, the lips, so soft and tender and sensitive. She closed her eyes and heard his voice again.

Nicole.

The way he’d looked her up and down when she was in his office, as if evaluating her down to the last cell. In the end, he clearly didn’t find her disgusting. How then, should she take his evaluating gaze? How then, should she interpret this private phone call?

She dug her two fingers slowly into the moist crevice of herself, slowly penetrating the layers of flesh, going inside. She was pulsing with heat and excitement. For him. For Red. For the only man that had ever made her this hot.

After only a few minutes of slow masturbation, she came violently, her hips swinging into the air. She could see her pelvis in the full-length mirror across from her. Saw her buttocks lifting upwards, her skin slick with sweat as her hand rubbed her clitoris.

Oh god, she thought. What have I gotten myself into?

***

“Good to see you,” Glen Goldman said when she arrived the next morning at nine o’clock. He checked his watch. “From now on, please come in by eight o’clock. If possible, seven thirty.”

“Absolutely! I didn’t know—“

He smiled and blinked. “It’s fine. First day and all.”

“Mister Jameson didn’t tell me what time I should arrive,” she said.

Glen stopped blinking entirely. Which seemed to be a sign that something was truly amiss. “Mr. Jameson?”

“Yes.” She shouldered her purse nervously.

“Why would he have told you what time to arrive?”

“Because he called me to tell me I had the job.” She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, suddenly feeling like she was walking into quicksand.

Glen’s expression seemed to harden a little. “Oh. I see. Well, that’s highly unusual—normally an HR representative would have phoned you. But I’m sure he had his reasons. He always does. In any case, let me show you to your desk.”

He got up from his chair and escorted her from his office into the mass of cubicles where the lower caste existed. She would occupy a simple corner cubicle. It was bare, white, with a Mac laptop sitting open on the desk and a phone beside that.

“So, what should I do to start?” she asked him, putting her purse strap over the seat back and sitting down.

“I’ll bring you over some reading material. A binder with basic information about our company as well as some nondisclosure forms for you to sign, etcetera. When you’re done with the binder, come and see me.” He disappeared and came back moments later with an enormous, thick binder full of various forms and pamphlets and company policies.

He handed it off with a smile and a few blinks, then left her by herself. Around her, the cubicles buzzed with people gossiping, talking on the phone with clients, or simply working.

Nicole kept to herself, put her head down and got to work.

***

“Want to grab a bite to eat?”

She glanced up to find Remi Danvers, the Art Director, standing in her cubicle entrance looking just as severe as she had the previous day.

“Oh. Is it lunch already?” Nicole asked.

Remi shrugged. “We’re flexible. It’s only eleven but I find that the cafeteria gets too crowded at lunch time, so I go early.”

“Sure, I’ll come. I don’t even know where it is.”

“Oh, you need the grand tour, then!”

Remi took her down to the fifth floor, which was taken up entirely by the cafeteria. The word cafeteria didn’t do it justice in actuality. It was enormous, with seating in four or five separate locals, some great window seats and some private booths too. There were no less than half a dozen food stations that served cuisine from different parts of the world. Italian, American, French, Asian, Middle Eastern.

Remi whispered to her. “The Middle Eastern food tastes like ox shit, but everything else here is fantastic.”

Eventually they both got their food (Remi had baked ziti, Nicole got a cheeseburger and fries) and sat down at a small table overlooking midtown.

“This view’s incredible,” Nicole said, biting into her hamburger. “And the food is good too,” she said through a mouthful of beef.

Remi nodded. She still had her sleeves rolled up and her shirt unbuttoned, but somehow she was less intimidating now. “You could do a lot worse than to get a job with Jameson. It has all the bells and whistles, in an industry known for its bells and whistles, if you know what I mean.”

“I think I do.”

Remi eyed her. “Are you really as naïve as you seem?”

“I—I don’t know. I guess maybe I am.”

The older woman speared her ziti and held it momentarily in mid air. “I’m trying to decide if you’re going to be ground up and spit out in a month working here, or whether you’ll be promoted to head of the division in the next year. I guess it’s a coin toss.” She ate noisily.

Nicole just shrugged. “I only want to work hard and do a good job.”

“Awww, aint that sweet.” Remi chewed and chewed and then her mouth closed and her eyes bugged out of her head. “Holy shit. He’s here.”

“Who?” Nicole turned to look.

“Who do you think?”

It was Red. He was with someone she didn’t recognize, a tall man with an enormous head. The two of them were walking right past Nicole and Remi.

“Keep your head down,” Remi whispered. “Don’t say anything. Don’t make a peep.”

She did as told. Picked up her burger and took a bite. Remi looked out the window.

Her heart was beating a mile a minute as the two men passed by her, and she didn’t take a single breath. And then it happened. Red turned and came back. “I thought I recognized you,” Red said, coming to stand in front of their table.

At first, Nicole thought he had to be speaking to Remi. But Remi was just looking down at her baked ziti.

“Me?” Nicole squeaked.

Red laughed heartily. “Yes, you. I see you made it to your first day of work in one piece.”

“Yeah.” What a dumb comment. Yeah. Of all things, it made her sound so young and vapid.

She could smell his cologne. It was musky and fresh all at once. He smelled of power, of cigars and money.

“I hope everyone’s treating you well?”

“Yes. Glen and Remi have been amazing.”

“Glad to hear it. Why don’t you swing by my office today before you go home, and you can tell me what they have you working on?”

“Sure…Just go up?”

“Yes, just come up like you did yesterday.” He smiled at both of them and walked off.

When he was well out of earshot, Remi turned and looked at Nicole like she was seeing Elvis come back from the dead. “You’ve got to be kidding me. He just invited you to his office.”

“Is that bad?”

“How should I know?” Remi said, spearing more ziti. “I mean, I’ve been working here nearly six years and he only had me up to his office once, with Edward, when we were planning a pitch for a huge client.”

Nicole didn’t know what to think. Her palms were sweaty and her throat was tight and dry. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Do? Just keep doing whatever you did to get his attention in the first place.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“Yeah, keep doing that,” Remi said, shoveling a forkful into her mouth and chewing like a cow.

***

The rest of the day went by in a blur. She was reading the stupid binder and in between that, she made a few hundred copies of some presentation for Glen and then edited a few PowerPoint slides for Edward. None of it required too much brainpower, which was funny considering how picky the company was and all the hoops she’d had to jump through in order to get the job in the first place.

She’d been going through the motions ever since Red had told her to come up to his office at the end of the day. She was half-dreading it, but the other half of her was so charged up that she was making herself crazy.

Imagining different scenarios playing out. Picturing him kissing her. Or yelling at her. Or both. Imagining him telling her that he wanted to groom her to take over his company one day. The fantasies were out of control and she could barely take it.

In the bathroom, at around three that afternoon, she’d had an urge to go into one of the stalls and masturbate. That literally had never happened to her in her entire life. The urge to masturbate had never been much stronger than the urge to play a game of checkers.

She resisted, but it had been difficult.

Finally, six o’clock rolled around and Glen swung by, telling her she could go home if she liked. “Nice job today,” he said, blinking and smiling.

She grabbed her purse and immediately walked to the “special” elevator, the one she’d taken yesterday to get to Red’s office.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed the call button and soon the doors opened. The elevator operator was there, in his usual suit, smiling formally. “Mister Jameson is expecting you,” he said.

“Oh. Great. Thanks.” She licked her lips and tried to keep her knees from knocking.

The elevator arrived and she got out, walking down the familiar hallway and knocking at the heavy wooden doors. This time, Red opened the door himself. “There she is,” he announced, waving her inside. “Miss Masters, rising star of the advertising world, and cute as a button in her red pumps and pantsuit.”

She looked down at her outfit, feeling suddenly shabby. “Sorry, did I dress inappropriately?”

“Whatever gave you that idea?” he laughed. “Drink?”

“No, I’m fine, thank you.”

“I was thinking of making myself an extra dry martini, but it is a bit early in the week for that.” He smiled. “Have a seat.”

She did so, crossing her legs and trying to remain calm. Just don’t forget to breathe, she told herself. And remember, he liked you enough to hire you!

As if hearing her thoughts, he turned to look at her. “I’m glad you came to work for us,” he said. “I have a feeling you’re going to make a huge impression here.”

“Thank you,” she said, wondering what made him think that. He barely even knew her!

“In fact,” he said, sighing and sitting at his desk, “I want to get your opinion on something.”

“Okay…” she waited, totally unsure of what he was doing.

He spun his enormous computer monitor around to face her. And then he played an advertisement for her. It was only about thirty seconds long. The ad was for a Las Vegas casino, and it was about a bachelorette party having a grand old time; kind of a light-hearted take off on The Hangover. She laughed a little bit at the funny parts.

When it was over, he looked at her. “You’re the right age demo for this spot,” he said. “So what do you think of it?”

“I like it. Really cool.”

His expression darkened. “That’s not going to cut it at all, Nicole.”

“Did I say something wrong?”

He slapped the desk suddenly, so loud she jumped in her chair. “Perhaps I’ve made a mistake here.” He got up, smoothing his tie and looking at the floor, as if lost in thought. “I’ve made things a bit too informal, given you the wrong idea.”

She swallowed, her jaw trembling. How could things be going wrong yet again?

“I’m sorry if—“

This time he clapped his hands together. “You will call me sir when you speak to me, Nicole. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir. Of course, sir.” She was sweating now. Her forehead, under her arms, between her legs. She was sweating through her suit.

“That’s better.” His shoulders relaxed a little. He went to the bar. “Perhaps we should have that drink after all. What do you say?”

She wasn’t sure. It didn’t feel very appropriate, but then again, this was after work hours. So she nodded. “Ummm…yes sir. That sounds nice, sir.”

He began making them martinis while she looked on, her anxiety ratcheting up as he slowly created the cocktails. “You’ll find that I am a very difficult person to please, Nicole,” he told her, shaking the contents of one drink. “But when you succeed in pleasing me, you’ll find that I show my appreciation in ways that make it all worthwhile.”

She didn’t know what he meant. And she was more afraid of him than anyone she’d ever met.

He finished with the drink and brought it over to her. As he handed it to her, their fingers touched and it was like an electric shock. She nearly jumped.

“Taste it,” he commanded.

She did so. It was dry and strong and she flinched a little from the taste.

“It’s very good,” she lied. “Thanks.”

He just stood there staring at her. “What?”

“I said—“ she stopped cold. She’d forgotten to call him sir. “I said it’s very good…sir.”

“I don’t think you like it.”

“I do, sir, very much.”

He stood over her. She was suddenly aware that his belt buckle (and below that, his zipper) was at mouth level. She pictured herself reaching out and touching that zipper.

“If you like it so much, then drink it all. Now.”

“Right now?”

His expression darkened. “If you forget to call me sir one more time, you’ll force me to do something very unpleasant, Nicole.”

She didn’t have a clue what that meant, but she didn’t want to find out. “I’m so sorry sir.”

“Drink up.”

“Should you really be making me drink alcohol at work, sir?” Her voice dripped with sarcasm.

“I’m not making you. I’m telling you.”

Her nipples stiffened when Nicole saw how he was looking at her.

She took a deep breath through her nose and exhaled out of her mouth. The very air in his office had changed; taken on a heavy, still quality. All of Nicole’s senses were engaged now, and she could smell not only Red and his cologne, but the scent of paper and leather and perfume from women who’d been in here earlier today.

She could see the small wrinkles in the fabric of Red’s steel gray shirt, the stitching in his trousers. Even the oil on his shoes.

She threw back her head and drank the martini as quickly as possible. Halfway through it she nearly gagged, but somehow was able to get it all down. When she was done, she held back a large belch. Her throat burned and her eyes were tearing.

Red watched her, a small smile playing on his lips. He took the empty glass from her hand, and his fingers seemed to linger on hers when he did so. “I should make you drink another, but I won’t…this time.” He turned and brought her glass back to the bar.

She was lightheaded and loose now. This meeting had turned into something else altogether, something dangerous and strange and…wrong. She knew it was wrong in her gut. And yet it also felt oddly right. This game was familiar to her in a way that she couldn’t have explained to anybody, not even herself.

“You can’t make me do anything…sir. You can only tell me,” she said, using his own words against him.

He spun and walked towards her, dark eyes burning. “I can’t?”

She met his gaze from her chair. “No, sir. You can’t.”

“If I ask you to, you’ll parade naked through these halls.”

She snorted a laugh. “Don’t be silly, sir.”

He crossed his arms and sat on the edge of his desk. “I have another meeting in just a few minutes,” he said.

A ripple of disappointment ran through her body.

“But I’m going to give you an assignment,” he finished.

She cocked her head at him. “Like homework?” Before he could get angry, she tagged on a sir.

“Yes, exactly like homework,” he smiled. “I want you to go home tonight and write an essay on how you plan to serve my interests.”

“I don’t understand, sir.”

“Figure it out.” He checked his watch. “You’re dismissed.” And then he went back behind his desk and sat down.

Nicole picked up her purse and stood, wobbling for a second. Her face was burning with shame at his casual and abrupt dismissal of her, as if she were a second grader and he the teacher. How dare he? How dare he try and humiliate her this way? She was an intern and he was making her into something dirty and pathetic.

She was growing more furious by the second. Of course, deep in the back of her mind, Nicole knew the real reason she was upset. She was hurt that he was sending her away—she wanted more time with him. She wanted more of everything.

Instead of admitting that to herself or him, she had a tantrum. “This is bullshit,” she said.

Red looked up from his papers. “What did you just say?”

“You heard me.” She glared at him. A sheen of sweat covered her body.

He smirked, as if disgusted by her presence. “You’re free to go, Miss Masters.” Now he was becoming even more formal. Her heart pounded in her chest and her stomach tightened.

“I know I’m free to go.”

“Did you forget where the door was?”

“I just want you to know that I’m not going to stand for this.” She tossed her hair and adjusted her purse strap as his gaze met hers.

“Stand for what?”

“The way you’re treating me. It’s harassment. I don’t need this job that badly, I can get another one.”

His smile widened, as if he expected this very reaction from her and welcomed it. “Oh, you’re very sure of yourself,” he said, leaning back and appraising her.

“Sure enough,” she lied.

“Well, don’t be.” He put a hand on the receiver of his phone. “I can pick up this phone and make a series of calls that will guarantee you never work in this industry again. It would take me all of about ten minutes to end your career entirely.”

The comment chilled her, as did the deadly serious look in his eyes.

“Why would you do that to me? I’m not important enough for you to waste your time on.”

“Because I can.”

The tears burned in her eyes. “I haven’t done anything to you. I don’t understand why you’re being so mean.”

He sighed. For the first time, he looked troubled. “I didn’t want to hire you.”

“You didn’t?”

“No.”

“Then I’ll leave immediately. Thank you…for…the opportunity.” She turned and started to walk out of the room. Actually, it was more like a sprint to get away from her shame and embarrassment and defeat.

But before she could exit, he was behind her. One of his hands gripped her shoulder and stopped her. “Wait,” he said. His breath was hot on her neck.

His hand felt warm and strong on her shoulder and he kept it there as she stood, still facing the door. Tears were streaming down her face and she didn’t want him to see her this way. “If you didn’t want to hire me, then why? Why did you?”

“You don’t understand,” he whispered. “The moment I first laid eyes on you I knew. I knew that I had to have you.”

A thrill ran up her legs and directly pulsated into her most private places. “Don’t lie to me,” she moaned.

“It’s not a lie.”

“Then why are you so cruel to me?”

“I’ve already answered that question.” He stepped closer to her. She could feel his body heat radiating against her buttocks and back and neck. He was like a furnace. She wanted more than anything for him to hold her tightly, to push himself up against her, force her towards the wall. His hands to cup her breasts from behind. His warm lips to kiss her exposed neck.

Neither of them spoke for a long time.

“I can’t control this,” he said.

His hand stroked her hair lightly, sending chills up and down her spine. And then he pulled her hair. As her head tilted back, he leaned forward and pressed his mouth to her ear. “Do you understand now?”

Nicole moaned. She didn’t really, but in another way she did. Her body understood him in a way that her intellect could not. Her pussy was soaking wet, throbbing. She’d never felt this in her life. This want, this need, this aching. Every fiber of her wanted his hands to touch her bare skin. He could throw her to the floor and enter her right here, right now.

“Please,” she moaned. “I…I want you.”

He tugged more insistently on her hair. “It’s not so simple,” he warned.

“I don’t care. I don’t care,” she said. She was dizzy and hot and in need.

“If you agree to this relationship,” he whispered, “there’s no going back. Walk out now and I won’t do a thing. I won’t pick up that phone, nobody will know a thing. You can get a job somewhere else, be a nice little worker bee at a safe, boring little advertising firm.”

“No,” she said. “I want this.”

I want you. I want all of you inside me.

“You think you want this,” he said, again tugging her hair. This time, there was some pain in her scalp. She hissed. He released the pressure and brushed his lips against her neck, so briefly she wasn’t sure it had even happened. “But I’m a difficult man to please. Do you want to please me?”

“Yes.”

Another pull of her hair, harder this time. “Yes sir.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Tonight, you’ll go home and write me an essay. You’ll tell me in detail how you intend to please me.”

“I’m not sure what you want me to—“

This time his other hand gripped her neck. “I gave you an order. Didn’t I?”

“Yes. Yes, sir.”

“Then do as I command.”

“Yes, sir.” He released her completely and moved quickly away. She wished he would return. She wanted to feel his hands everywhere on her body. Even the pain when he pulled her hair was sensual, and she wanted more of that too. If she could just feel those lips against her neck for even one more moment, it would all be worth it.

“You can turn around now,” he said as he sat back down at his desk.

Nicole turned, seeing him as if for the first time. In the last few minutes, it seemed as if her entire life had changed. Like she was a different person, a package that had been unwrapped for the very first time. She was raw, naked, vulnerable. If he asked her to, she’d take off her pants, her blouse, her panties. She’d stand in front of him nude, play with herself, show him how wet she was. If that’s what he desired.

“Should I leave, sir?”

“I don’t want to cause you any harm,” he said softly. “That’s why I didn’t want to hire you. I know myself well enough to know that our relationship can only be difficult. Difficult, complicated, and ultimately destructive…You deserve more than that.”

“I’ll do anything you need,” she said. “Anything, sir.”

“Yes,” he nodded, lost in thought. “I just hope you’ll feel the same way when it’s all over.”

“I will, sir.”

He nodded again but his expression was troubled. “Go home, Nicole.”

And she did.

***

The next day was awful.

She’d been up all night writing the essay Red had assigned, fearing that Danielle would barge in her room at any moment and tear the paper out of her grasp, read it and laugh and laugh. Call their mutual friends and read it aloud to them as well.

Writing it had been excruciating. She wanted to turn him on, wanted more than anything to please him. This was Red Jameson, after all, the man who could have any woman he wanted. He’d been seen with starlets, models, the most famous and beautiful girls on the planet.

And now, inexplicably, impossibly, he wanted her. And worst of all, he wanted her to tell him how she would please him.

What did that even mean? It was a riddle.

That was part of the anxiety of it all. She couldn’t know what he really wanted her to write because he hadn’t been clear in his instructions.

Eyes bleary, she woke at six-thirty after only a couple of hours of fitful sleep and sat down with the paper in front of her. She had smudges of blue ink on her fingers.

She looked at the three pages in front of her, filled with line after line of neatly handwritten script. There were other pages in the wastebasket, crumpled up because she’d needed to cross something out or change a word. She refused to let Red see anything resembling a mistake.

At first, she’d started writing the essay on her computer, but it hadn’t felt intimate enough. She convinced herself that it should be more like a letter than a book report.

Now she reread her work with growing horror.

I will make it my duty to show you my devotion.

Another line further down the page.

Pleasing you in every way will be my greatest accomplishment, I will dedicate myself to the task night and day. Every waking moment will be spent thinking only of your needs.

And on the next page…

My body is yours. My mind is yours. My soul is yours. Do with me as you please.

She recoiled from the words as she read them. They were utter garbage, and Red would be disgusted when he saw what she’d come up with. He’d want nothing more to do with her, knowing the vapid quality of her thoughts, the sheer banality of her creativity.

But then she told herself that the quality of her writing wasn’t what counted in this task he’d given her. What counted was how well she was able to communicate her willingness to please him. And from that perspective, she’d certainly succeeded.

At least, that’s what she told herself.

Nicole folded up her three-page essay and put it at the very bottom of her purse, then went to the bathroom for a quick shower. She dressed in another skirt, this one baby blue, with a white sleeveless blouse that had a low-cut neckline. She also wore a necklace that she hoped would draw Red’s eye to her cleavage, letting him know that both his gaze and his hands were welcome there if he saw fit.

She was wet again, which seemed to be a permanent situation since meeting Red Jameson. Last night when she’d undressed, her panties had been soaked and the scent of her sex had been so strong she’d had an uneasy moment where she wondered if Red had actually smelled her in his office.

Now, after just getting dressed for the day, she was already getting wet again. It was like a disease, an affliction. She wanted to touch herself, wanted that orgasm, but she also wanted to savor this wanting him.

And so she went to work, hoping and waiting for him to call her to his office. Nicole sat down at her desk, wondering if his request would take the form of a phone call, an email—would he possibly even swing by her desk?

The morning dragged on. Nobody gave her any work to do, so she continued to page through the stupid binder and read useless company policies. She laughed a little when she came to the sexual harassment policy. How easy it would be for her to turn Red’s overtures into a multi-million dollar lawsuit.

But she had no real thought of doing that. She wanted his touch far more than any amount of money

By the time eleven-thirty rolled around, she was anxious and bored. She thought to herself that perhaps he might be in the cafeteria again, so she walked to Remi’s office and knocked on the outside of the doorframe.

The door was ajar, and Remi was peering through her funky glasses at her computer. Then she saw Nicole and a look of surprise crossed her face. “Oh. Hi there.”

“Are you going to lunch?”

Remi thought for a moment. “I lost track of time. I guess I should go.”

“Cool.”

She took off her glasses and laid them on her desk. “Aren’t you the punctual one?”

“Not really. Just hungry.”

Remi smiled. “Sure. And besides, you never know who you might run into at this hour.”

Nicole ignored that comment. Inside, she was burning with humiliation that her actions had been so transparent, but outwardly she just smiled in return and the two of them went to the cafeteria.

There were a few more people waiting in line than yesterday, but the room was still mostly empty. Plenty of tables to choose from. Remi and Nicole sat once again by the window overlooking midtown.

Remi had pasta like yesterday, while Nicole had a simple garden salad.

“That’s all you’re having?” Remi asked, shoveling a large portion of ziti into her mouth and chewing.

“Not very hungry,” Nicole said.

“Hmmm.” Remi looked at her with concern. “You seem stressed, and nobody’s even given you anything to do yet.”

“Maybe that’s the problem.”

“I’ve got work for you.” Remi took a long swallow of water. “When we’re done, I want you to go to the research library on the third floor and look for images of dancing cowboys.”

“Dancing cowboys?”

Remi nodded. “Don’t ask why, it’s this horrible magazine spread I’m working on. But it’s what I need and since you’ve apparently got nothing to do but look like a scared little rabbit…” she shrugged.

Nicole nodded and tried to look enthused. After all, it was the first real task she’d been given. “I’m going to find the best dancing cowboy you’ve ever seen.”

“Just find one decent image,” she said, “and I’ll be happy.”

They continued eating, with Remi mostly talking about this new client that was making her life miserable. She also mentioned Edward a lot, there seemed to be some friction between the two of them.

Nicole didn’t care. She wanted to care and normally she would have. Her friends had always told her she was a great listener. But all she could do was wonder when Red would contact her and tell her to bring the essay to him.

When Remi was finished eating, Nicole tried to think of an excuse to stick around the cafeteria without the older woman seeing right through it. “I need to go to the bathroom,” Nicole said.

“I’ll come with,” Remi said.

She was like glue. Nicole seethed inwardly.

Finally they went back down together and Nicole stopped at her cubicle to check her email and office phone for voicemails. Nothing. As of now she only had a total of two work emails, one of which was an automated welcome email, another of which was Glen emailing her to ask if she would bring him a copy of her signed nondisclosure agreement.

Her spirits sank further.

She knew Red Jameson was a very busy man, a CEO of an enormous corporation. But still, she wanted just the tiniest reassurance that would had happened between them yesterday was real.

She was starting to think maybe she’d imagined the entire thing.

The day wore on.

She spent the better part of it in the enormous research library, which occupied the entire third floor. The place was filled with books and magazines and microfilm and microfiche, stuff that the company apparently owned and could use in their ad campaigns. A lot of it was older and she’d never worked with the technology before. So the crabby old librarian had to show her how to use it all.

It was tedious, tedious work.

Every so often she’d break and look at her inert cell phone, then go upstairs to her cubicle and check her email and phone. There was nothing.

Somehow she’d failed him. Didn’t he at least want to see her essay? Should she go up to his office and barge in, demand to be seen?

That was crazy thinking. But she was growing desperate with her need to see him and talk to him. She wanted to feel his strong, insistent hand grabbing her hair and pulling her head back. His lips against her ear, his deep voice whispering. Taking control.

She bit her lower lip as this fantasy took hold. It was after four p.m. and still no word from Red.

Nicole took a break and went to the handicapped bathroom for privacy. Once inside, she locked the door and sat on the toilet, legs spread. Her eyes closed, she pictured Red in between her legs, his tongue delicately licking her in the most tender way. She started to rub herself through her panties.

The orgasm was delicious in its quiet intensity. She came while picturing him sucking her clit.

Please let it happen. Please God.

Afterward she had a surge of self-loathing. Here she was, coming alone in this bathroom its florescent lights and the smell of cleaning solution in her nostrils. It was the opposite of Red’s opulent office with the smell of aftershave and leather.

This wasn’t how she was supposed to be. A girl who degraded herself alone in a company bathroom wasn’t what Red would desire. She needed to be above such weakness. She would wait for his touch and his touch alone to satisfy her intimate cravings. It would make it so much more exciting when she finally was allowed to climax.

For the first time, Nicole wondered if he had secret cameras hidden throughout the building. It seemed the kind of thing Red would do. Maybe he was watching her even now.

Part of her thrilled at the notion, another part was terrified. She didn’t want to disgust him with her animal like lust. Red was refined, calculated, poised and strong. He didn’t simply grope her like a college boy, fumbling with her bra straps. He was seducing her—taking his time and making her want him more and more.

She needed to learn from his example. Be patient, she told herself.

Finally, the workday ended.

Heartbroken, she left the Jameson International building and walked to her train. She kept thinking he’d appear behind her in a limousine, honking until she noticed him, then pulling over to let her inside.

Of course it didn’t happen.

Her roommate Danielle was home when Nicole arrived.

“Oh, look at you! Hattie alert, hottie alert!” Danielle cried out, as she cut cucumber and onion and carrots on a plastic cutting board at the kitchen counter.

Nicole tried to smile. “You’re cooking?”

“Just making a salad. Want some?”

“No. I’m not really hungry.”

Danielle looked more closely at her. “You’re exhausted, Nicole. You’ve got dark circles under your eyes.” She walked from behind the counter as Nicole flopped onto the couch.

“I’m fine. Just hard to get used to my new work schedule.”

“I woke up last night at like two a.m. to go pee and saw your light on,” Danielle said carefully.

“Oh. I must have fallen asleep and forgotten to turn it off.”

“And I heard you moving around. You were awake.”

“Haven’t you ever heard that spying on your roommate isn’t very nice?”

Danielle folded her arms. “I wasn’t spying. The bathroom is right next to your bedroom.”

“I had a…a work thing. It was important.”

“What kind of work thing? You’re an intern.”

Nicole sighed. She felt a headache coming on and pressed her fingers to her temples and rubbed in small concentric circles. “Don’t worry about me, Danielle. I’m fine.”

“Sure you are.” She walked back into the kitchen and began aggressively chopping veggies. “Don’t say I didn’t try and help,” she called out as Nicole retreated to her bedroom.

***

Her phone was buzzing.

Nicole swam out of a deep, dreamless sleep, struggling to wake up. She knew it was imperative that she answer her cell, but she was so tired. So awfully, terribly exhausted.

And then she woke up, as if breaking the surface of a dark lake. It was very late at night—that much she knew. Her heart was pounding.

The phone buzzed.

She’d fallen asleep with it right next to her. The number was private, which could mean only one thing. She answered it fumblingly. “Hello, hello?”

She cursed herself for sounding desperate.

There was silence for a few awful seconds, and then Red’s voice on the other line. “You will be outside your apartment waiting in exactly fifteen minutes.”

“You’re coming here?”

He exhaled impatiently into the phone. “Stop questioning.”

“I’m sorry, sir, for my questions.”

“Don’t make me doubt my faith in you, Nicole.”

“Never, sir. I will do better, sir.”

“A car will pick you up outside your apartment in fourteen minutes. Wear a cocktail dress. And nothing underneath it.”

“Yes, sir.” She was excited, she was over the moon—and devastatingly moist.

The line went dead.

She checked the time. “Oh my god,” she whispered. It was 3:18 in the morning. But she didn’t have time to worry about the lateness (or earliness) of his call. She had to get ready in short order.

So she jumped out of bed and ran to her closet. Luckily she had a cute little dress that would fit the bill, dark and sheer, it hugged close to her body, showing her curves in a very flattering way that few of her outfits did. She’d only worn it once previously, and a lot of her friends had remarked on it.

Nicole stripped down and slid the dress on, marveling at how intoxicated she felt from just the few moments they’d spent talking just now. It was like she was on speed or coke or ecstasy (none of which she’d ever done—only what she’d imagined them to be like).

He hadn’t mentioned shoes, but to be safe she put on her dark Prada heels.

Then she ran to the bathroom, looking both ways first to make sure Danielle wasn’t nosing around. Brushed her teeth, put on deodorant, splashed water on her face—no time for makeup unfortunately.

Being late for this appointment was simply not an option. She envisioned him driving by, stopping for the briefest of instances, and then simply driving off if she wasn’t curbside when he arrived.

Not two minutes later, Nicole was downstairs and out front, standing alone in the darkness of her street. Nobody was around. The only light came from the moon and the few streetlights nearby.

It was creepy and the air was chill. With no coat on, she was shivering, hugging herself for warmth.

And then a sleek black town car turned onto her street and slowly, smoothly came to a halt in front of her. Nobody got out. The windows were tinted so that she could not see inside. There was no sign of Red—this could be anybody. She could get in the wrong car and end up raped and murdered and left in a dumpster.

These things happened in the big city.

But despite the danger, Nicole opened the door and got inside.

Red wasn’t in the car. The driver was a short, dapper, middle-aged man wearing a suit coat and driving cap. He smiled at her in the rearview mirror. “Miss Masters?”

Relieved, she smiled at him. “Yes.”

“Relax,” he said, “we’ll be there shortly.”

“Where?” she asked.

“Our destination.” He started to pull away from the curb and she still had the door ajar, so she closed it and sat back, watching the scenery go by—at first slowly, then more quickly as the town car picked up speed.