TWO - WILL

I SAT AT THE HEAD of the table, only half listening while Robert ran through the figures at the front of the room.

All the seats were taken by identical figures in identical suits all looking at Robert and nodding. They knew same as me that all the dressing it up was unimportant. What mattered was we were up. As long as the stock price kept going up, the rest was mere details, not something I needed to trouble myself with.

None of them knew the planning that had gone into building this company. None of them knew that at sixteen, I was planning for now. I was looking twenty years into the future and working fourteen, fifteen hour days to make sure I got the calculations right.

It had paid off in the end. By twenty I was a millionaire, though I’d run in the red for two years before that, coming nail-bitingly close to having the bank take everything just when I was on the cusp of a breakthrough.

When it finally happened, it went big. From then it was plain sailing, the planning had been worth it. I was still surfing off the back of it now, two decades after that first tentative step. I remembered it well, just me, the financial software I’d built myself and a gallon of black coffee.

“Projections for the next quarter are as follows,” Robert said, clicking through to the next screen of the presentation.

I turned to look out of the clock. Quarter to ten. In fifteen minutes I’d be in my office with Lionel. A few minutes after that I’d be on the phone. Who would be on the other end? Would it be one of the women here in the boardroom?

I looked from one of them to the next. Would I fuck them? What would Sarah look like with that suit of hers on the floor? Her cheeks flushed, that pristine hair of hers knotted and flat to her head? Would it wipe that bored look off her face?

I nodded across to Robert and he got the message at once, just another reason why he was a better choice than my last assistant. She was gymnastic in her bending abilities in the bedroom but she did not do subtle. One time I told her to call me out of a boring meeting in ten minutes and she burst in announcing, “You told me to come in and make up an excuse for you to leave,” while everyone stifled their laughs and I glared at her.

Robert was a good choice, Harvard educated before coming over to Blighty, probably taking on this post because butler to the Queen was taken.

One slight nod and he wound up the meeting in seconds. No complaints, no stalling. I was done so it was done. The rest of the presentation could wait until tomorrow. I had somewhere to be.

Lionel was waiting in my office, smoking a cigar, his feet up on the corner of my desk.

“Make yourself at home,” I said as I pushed the window open. “You know you’re not supposed to smoke in here.”

He grinned, getting to feet and wandering over to the window, flicking the cigar out into the air. It sank from sight at once. I wondered where it might land but he’d already forgotten it existed, returning to his seat before speaking. “No matter,” he said, rubbing his hands together eagerly. “More important things to do anyway. Where’s that staff directory of yours?”

“Here,” I said, tossing it across to him. “Do your worst.”

He flicked nonchalantly through it, muttering, “No, no, no way. Aha, here we are.”

He took my pen from the gold holder and then circled a name before passing it back. “IT department, I bet she’s a real catch.”

I looked down at the name he’d circled, ignoring the fact he’d just pocketed my pen. What was it about him? He had enough money to buy the Mont Blanc company but he still felt the need to steal my pens whenever he came to see me. Maybe it was a bet he had with someone else.

The name wasn’t one I knew. Jen Murphy. There were thirty names listed under I.T but she was the only woman. I could picture her already. Stained tee-shirt referencing some twenty year old sitcom, skirt to her ankles, her mother’s sagging tights, probably with greasy hair and no sex life, maybe a virgin, definitely single.

“Time to make the call,” Lionel said.

I smiled, trying not to appear concerned. The phone rang for twenty seconds. “She’s not answering,” I said, about to give up when it finally connected.

“Hello, I.T?”

“Hi,” I said, nodding to Lionel who leaned forwards to listen, grin fixed to his face, he’d not had this much fun in ages. “Is that Jen?”

“Yep, who is this?”

I ignored her question. “I’ve got a laptop needs fixing.”

“Bring it down and I’ll take a look if you like?”

Lionel reached over and hung up before I could say anything else. “Right, stud,” he said, getting to his feet. “You’ve got a fortnight starting now.”

“Piece of piss,” I replied, following him to the door. “Usual amount?”

“This isn’t Trading Places,” he said. “Grant might be happy betting a quid but I want real money.”

“How about a hundred thousand?”

“How about five hundred thousand?”

“Done,” I said, shaking his outstretched hand.” And my pen back if I win.”

“What pen?” he called over his shoulder as he walked away.

I went back into my office, taking my private lift down to ten before realising I didn’t know where the I.T department was. I got out and strode over to the plan of the building on the opposite wall before crossing to the main bank of lifts. The basement, it figured. I had to travel from the top of the building all the way to the bottom, from heaven to hell. What was waiting for me down there?

The lift pinged and out I stepped into the basement. The whirring noise of machinery filled the air as I walked down the corridor, pushing open the first door I found that was unlocked. Inside was half open plan office, half computer graveyard. The desks were piled high with the guts of computers although I couldn’t see anyone anywhere.

I strolled through the office until I heard a chair creaking. Turning round, I realised I’d missed her.

She was sitting low in her chair behind a laptop, her eyes fixed on the screen, lost in concentration, presumably working on some knotty technical problem.

I was loathe to interrupt her. Normally, I’d storm up to the staff and bark out orders but one look at her and I couldn’t do it.

She was too beautiful. That was why. Not the plastic beauty of the women in the club but something much different, far more pure and innocent. The image in my head of what Jen Murphy would look like was swept aside as I stared at her in the flesh.

Cute round face, button nose, long blonde hair, big round eyes. Her clothes were awful but they couldn’t take away from how fucking hot she looked. I wanted her almost at once. How had I not seen her here before? My cock twitched as her tongue protruded momentarily from between her lips before vanishing.

I took a step towards her and she noticed me at last, glancing across before jerking back in her seat. “Oh, hi, “she said, getting to her feet, her cheeks colouring. “I didn’t see you there.”

“Apparently not,” I replied, glancing down at her top, seeing her tits straining against the fabric. It might be faded grey with a slogan I didn’t understand but inside it was something remarkable. I thought about sliding my cock between those tits and it twitched again with a growing need.

“I called down about a laptop needing fixing.”

“Oh, okay. Where is it?”

Where is it? Shit, I forgot to bring one down with me. In charge of a giant corporation, the fate of thousands of people in my hands and I can’t remember to take a laptop to I.T when I told them I had a laptop to fix. Well done me. So much for smooth, suave and sophisticated.

“I’ll bring it down,” I said, fixing a confident smile on my face, glancing down at those lips of hers for a brief second, thinking of that tongue that stuck out when she was looking at the computer, thinking of how that tongue would look gliding along the shaft of my cock. “Thought I’d come down and put a face to a name first.”

She wilted under my gaze and I knew then that this was going to be easy. She was flustered, fanning herself with a computer parts catalogue she had grabbed off the desk next to her. “Right,” she said. “Right,” she echoed herself.

I felt like laughing. She was breathing heavily, her chest heaving up and down and I noticed from the corner of my eye that her fingers were trembling. I fixed her in my warmest gaze, the one that had worked with that supermodel, the one who refused to open her legs for any guy, no matter how rich. Until I gave her the look.

“When are you free to take a look at it?”

“Huh?” she blinked those big round blue eyes of hers as if she was in a trance.

“My laptop, when can you take a look.”

“Oh, right. Erm, bring it down this afternoon? Is that all right?”

“That’s absolutely fine, thank you, Jen.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, smiling demurely, looking as innocent as she possibly could.

What would happen to that smile when she found out what I had planned to do to her? Would it turn to shock or delight? Well, there was only going to be one way to find out. I was going to take what I wanted and what I wanted was her.