It’s all quiet in the apartment. I’ve been listening by the door for about ten minutes now and I’ve not heard a sound.

Samantha has a frustratingly inconsistent work schedule so I never know when she’s going to be in. All I want is to leave my bedroom, grab some breakfast, and not discuss what happened—or didn’t happen—last night. You know, the bit where I came on to Damon and he bailed on me.

What the hell was all that about anyway? He insisted on coming back to the apartment and then he left when I offered him sex on a plate. Did I make it too easy for him? I know men like a challenge, but they also like sex. I didn’t think he’d turn it down.

God only knows what the atmosphere at work is going to be like today. It was always going to be tough going into work after he spanked me and watched me masturbate on his desk. Now there’s the added complication of him rejecting me.

Life was so much easier as a cleaner.

There’s still no noise, so I open my bedroom door and step out quietly into the kitchen. Samantha’s bedroom door is empty which means unless she’s in the… oh crap.

The bathroom door opens and Samantha comes out in skimpy cotton pajamas. She’s much prettier than me. Maybe Damon has his eyes on her now? That would explain why he bailed on me after meeting Samantha.

“Hey sis,” she says playfully. “How was last night?”

How does she use the bathroom without making any noise? Unless… “You were waiting for me to come out of my room, weren’t you?”

“Don’t be so paranoid. You seem to be alone.”

“Yes, I’m alone.”

I pour myself a bowl of cereal to keep busy while I think up some excuses for why Damon escorted me home last night. It’s not like I know the answer to that myself. I thought he brought me home to fuck me, but apparently not.

“Care to explain why your boss brought you home last night?”

Not really. “I worked late and he didn’t want me taking the train. Stop trying to read things into something perfectly innocent.”

“Uh huh. And I suppose there’s a completely innocent reason for your blouse being on inside out when you came home?”

Oh God. How the hell did I manage to get all the way home with my blouse undone? Wait, wouldn’t I have noticed when I took it off? “I didn’t—”

“Too late. That long pause told me all I needed to know. Come on then, how did it happen? I want all the details. You can start by describing his penis. Was it big?”

“We didn’t have sex,” I say firmly. Totally true, if maybe a touch misleading. “We just fooled around a bit.”

“And will you be fooling around some more?”

“He’s my boss, Samantha.”

“I know. That’s what makes it so hot. That and he has enough muscles to throw you around the bedroom until you get motion sickness.”

“It won’t be happening again,” I say uncertainly. I have no idea what’s going to happen. Part of me wants to get to work as soon as possible to find out, and the other part wants to take the day off to wallow in self-pity.

“Were you at least subtle about it? You don’t want everyone to hate you for screwing the boss, although it’s probably worth it.”

“I’m not screwing him,” I protest. “And they already hate me.”

“Oh. Well, you’ve nothing to lose then.”

“Apart from my job which I’d quite like to keep given how well it pays. Speaking of which, I really need to get a move on or I’ll be late.”

“Alright. Don’t forget we’re going to see Mom Saturday lunchtime. She’s going to want to hear all about your new job.”

“I wasn’t going to tell her.”

“Too late, I already have. Don’t worry, I told her it was part-time. She still thinks you’re enrolled in law school.”

“Thanks.”

Mom will find out eventually. Assuming she lives long enough.

* * *

“Kara.”

I’m relieved to hear Damon call for me. He’s had people in and out of his office all day, but the only time he called me in was to take a drinks order for him and a couple of the other attorneys. We’ve not done anything fun.

I walk into his office with my trusty pen and notepad. He’s alone.

“What can I do for you, Sir?” I ask.

We agreed that I would call him ‘Sir’ when we’re alone and use ‘Damon’ when we’re around other people. The office has a first name policy and it would look a little odd for me to call him ‘Sir’ all the time.

Damon points to the space next to him without even looking up from his computer. I walk over and stand next to him, staring down between his legs at the monster that lies between them. He’s huge. Like, ‘novelty sex toy’ huge. What would it have felt like if we’d slept together? Would I even be able to walk this morning? Maybe that’s why he didn’t fuck me last night—he didn’t want me to take a sick day.

Damon reaches out and grabs my thigh while still scrolling down an article he’s reading. I tense up as his hand slides up my thigh until it’s under my skirt and then inches from where my panties would be if I were wearing any.

His fingers reach up and graze gently against my slick folds. The touch barely lasts a second, but it’s enough to get my heart racing and my pussy throbbing.

“You’re not wearing any panties,” Damon comments casually, removing his hand from between my legs and finally looking around at me.

“You told me not to.”

“Good girl.” Damon stands up and towers over me. He moves behind me and reaches around, running his fingers down the gap in my blouse and lightly brushing my breasts. The touch lasts barely any longer than the one on my pussy, but it’s enough to make me thankful I’m wearing a padded bra.

He slowly moves back around to stand in front of me. He lifts my chin up with his fingers and leans down to kiss me. I’m helpless; I just stand there with my arms by my side while his tongue parts my lips and explores my mouth.

My legs quiver as if I’ve just stood up after squatting for an hour. Then it stops. He moves his lips away and sits back down at his desk.

“Can you stay late tonight?” he asks.

It’s the question most secretaries dread. Not me.

“Certainly, Sir,” I reply. “Anything for you.”

“I’ll get us a table.”

“A table?” I ask with a frown. “Can’t we just use your desk?”

Damon laughs. “I meant a table at a restaurant, but I like where your head’s at.”

“You want to go for dinner?”

“I assume you eat food.”

“Look at me,” I reply, motioning to my wide hips. “I eat food.”

“Good.”

He’s taking me to dinner. That’s definitely not what I was expecting to happen next. Awkwardness. Sexual tension. Rudeness. That’s the sort of thing that should happen when you masturbate on your boss’s desk and then he rejects you later in the evening. Dinner was not on the agenda. Until now.