Chapter7
Ethan checked the time on his office clock and smiled to himself. Brianna had been working as his assistant for over a week—and it was Friday. He’d told her to expect to stay late that evening, and Brianna had accepted the instruction without any complaint or attempt to argue. He checked his phone; he’d made plans for them starting just after work, and his anticipation was mounting.
He had put more thought into it than several dates he’d taken women on in the past several years: dinner at the 21 Club, a stop at Rockefeller Center on the way to Times Square, and then onto Madame Tussaud’s, before retiring to the Belvedere. Ethan knew that he would easily convince Brianna to go home with him, to his apartment, but there was something magical about staying the night in a hotel in his own city; especially a hotel like the Belvedere. It was going to be the first—of many, Ethan hoped—nights out with Brianna, where they would enjoy themselves and take in some of Ethan’s favorite things in the city, leading up to hours of sex.
Of course, Ethan thought with a little grin to himself, the overtime pay for Brianna would be capped at four hours—but he’d made sure she agreed to that beforehand. The night would be a first foray into meetings outside of the office—and Ethan planned for them to leave the office during the day in the near future, so he wanted the first attempt to go as well as possible.
Brianna had put in her request for one of their out-of-office events to include the ferry to Ellis Island and the Statue of Liberty, which she’d wanted to see since long before she’d come to the city. And Ethan for his part wanted to take her on a day trip through Chinatown and Canal Street, before taking her back to his apartment for the afternoon.
The board seemed to be pleased with the way that Brianna was performing in her stated job, and Ethan had already proven his merit as a new owner of the company after streamlining a few departments, cutting enough fat to more than justify the new position he’d created for Brianna.
His door buzzer went off, and Ethan saw that it was Brianna standing at the door. They’d had a teasing, not-quite completed tryst earlier in the afternoon, so that he could prep her for the evening’s festivities—a one-hour meeting in which he had teased her and himself alike, touching and tasting, bringing them both to the edge of climax before backing off just in time to avoid orgasm.
It had taken him an hour of questionable productivity to get himself to cool off afterwards, and he was fairly certain that Brianna had struggled similarly. Knowing that she was at her desk, fidgeting slightly in her stockings and the bustier she had on underneath her work clothes, had made it even harder for Ethan to get his arousal under control once more.
He let her into his office, realizing that Cassidy and Jennifer would have already left for the day; it was officially after-hours. Brianna stepped through the door and let it close and lock behind her, before striding towards his desk. Ethan took in the sight of her: long legs in stockings that he knew ended just inches away from her pussy, the skirt she wore that ended maybe two inches above her knee, flirting with the lace part of her stocking, and a blouse that was just full enough to conceal the fact that she was wearing a bustier underneath it.
“So we’re meeting somewhere?” Brianna looked at him speculatively. Ethan nodded.
“Here is how it’s going to work,” he began. “In five minutes, you’ll go downstairs and meet the driver one block up from the building. I’ll be meeting with my own driver ten minutes after that, so you have a head start. There’s another blouse in the car waiting for you, and some shoes that you can actually walk in—enough of a change that you won’t feel like you’re in work clothes so much, anymore. We’ll meet at the 21 Club, and then from there the night will go on.”
It was important to him—and for both of them, ultimately, Ethan thought—to make as certain as possible that no one connected their departures, that no one realized they were actually going on a date. During their workday trips, it would be similar precautions; Brianna would be listed as going to a lunch meeting or some other event in another part of the city, while Ethan would be covered by another excuse, and they would meet up—but they had to make sure the logistics ran smoothly first.
“Okay,” Brianna said with a nod. “So I guess I’ll meet you at the 21 Club in what—like 30 minutes?” Ethan stood up and stepped around his desk, and Brianna didn’t even tense, or hesitate as he let his hands fall to her waist and leaned in to kiss her on the lips. He held back, knowing that if he got too involved in the kiss he’d certainly make them miss their dinner reservation—and that they’d never even make it to Times Square, much less Madame Tussaud’s.
“Thirty minutes,” Ethan said, breaking away from her lips. He gave her waist a squeeze and let go of her, stepping back and leaning lightly against his desk. Brianna gave him a flirtatious little look and turned to leave the office, to gather up her things and go downstairs where her driver would be waiting just around the corner from the office building.
Ethan, for his own part, set a timer on his phone and took care of the last of the business he’d been too distracted to take care of that afternoon while he waited for a sensible amount of time to pass. He could feel his body tingling with the anticipation of being with Brianna again, and the thought of taking her to the Belvedere—to the finest suite they had there—and taking his time with her until they’d both gotten off two or three times.
The idea of taking off her blouse, of unbuttoning it to reveal the bustier underneath, and tugging her skirt off to look at the lean, curvy black body in the complete ensemble—bustier, barely-there panties, and stockings—was enough to almost make Ethan hard again. But he reminded himself that it was Friday night, that the work week was over, and that they both had plenty of time.
He would have a good dinner, and he would enjoy her company, and they would take in the figures at the wax museum, and then they would have a couple of drinks at the Belvedere bar, and they would go to the suite waiting for them, and neither would have to even worry about where they needed to be in the morning.
When his alarm went off, Ethan pinged his driver, and then gathered up what little he needed from his desk, shutting everything down. He looked around and took a quick, deep breath, and headed for his locked door, thinking eagerly about what he and Brianna would do that night.
Traffic uptown was—predictably—frustrating, even though the post-work rush was beginning to wane. By the time they went to the hotel, there would just be the normal, steady evening clip of cabs and cars and buses navigating the gridded streets, but Ethan forced himself to remain patient in the back seat as he watched the driver navigate and move around the slower vehicles, heading for the 21 Club as quickly as he could.
Brianna had already been seated by the time he arrived, and Ethan could tell from the look on her face that she was a little apprehensive at the quality of the place he had brought her to. The restaurant—or, more specifically, the Bar Room where their table was—was decorated with scores of toys dangling from the ceiling, and styled with a vintage, 50s feel. Ethan followed the hostess to the table, smiling slightly; he could picture the bustier underneath the loose black blouse that Brianna had changed into, and he couldn’t wait to get his hands on it—and then to peel it off of her.
He sat down opposite her and watched as Brianna took a sip of her water. “Any idea what you’d like?” She shook her head.
“I made the mistake of looking at the prices, and now I’m gun-shy,” Brianna admitted. Ethan chuckled.
“Don’t look at them. It isn’t your money, after all,” he said.
“That makes me more self-conscious, even,” Brianna countered. Ethan shook his head.
“If I hadn’t wanted to spend a ton of money I would have picked a different place,” he told her. “Order whatever sounds good—even if that’s five different things.”
“I don’t want to be so stuffed that I can’t walk after,” Brianna pointed out. Ethan grinned.
“That’s a good rule—but we can skip Rockefeller Center if you aren’t up for the walk. Madame Tussaud’s is not too hard to navigate.” He settled in his seat and looked over the menus that had been provided for them: there was an a la carte dinner, a pre-theater dinner, and the wine selections; he definitely planned on getting them some wine, but that would have to wait for their food orders. “Let’s just do the a la carte,” Ethan suggested, setting the fixed-price menu aside.
“Oh god that’s going to add up quick,” Brianna said. Ethan shrugged.
“Like I said, I didn’t come here to scrimp. Anything you want on that menu, you can order.” That, of course, meant that they had to discuss. Having been raised in Florida, Brianna was familiar with seafood already—so they decided, finally, on multiple courses. They had a little over an hour before Ethan wanted to move on to their next location; Tussaud’s would close at eight, and while he could probably cajole the staff a bit into staying late, maybe 30 minutes, he didn’t want to have to. He wanted to have plenty of time to show Brianna around the museum.
The waiter came, and Ethan ordered for both of them, after consulting with Brianna to find out what she wanted. “We will have the shrimp cocktail and the crab cake appetizer, with a bottle of the Bollinger, and then I will have the duck, and this beautiful woman dining with me will have the Hokaido sea scallops. I think we’ll stick with the Bollinger, but if we run out—remember this, if you can—we’ll switch to the Gewurztraminer. I can remind you if you’re too busy.” With that the waiter nodded and left them, and Ethan was left alone with Brianna once more, sipping the water as they waited for their champagne and first courses to arrive.
“I do not even want to know how much this ends up costing, so don’t let me see,” Brianna told him.
“Do you know how long it’s been since the last time that I worried about how much something costs?” Ethan shook his head, smiling at her slightly.
“I know, I know,” Brianna said, rolling her eyes. “I just don’t want to feel like I’m being bought—that’s fair, right?”
Ethan nodded.
“You absolutely are not being bought,” he told her. “You’re being compensated for time—not for affection.” The waiter arrived at the table with the bottle of champagne, deeply chilled, and a bucket of ice, and Ethan lapsed into silence as the man opened the bottle, poured their glasses, and set the champagne down in the bucket to keep it chilled, making a few pleasantries and telling them that their first course would be arriving shortly.
“It felt weird getting that first paycheck direct-deposited in my bank account,” Brianna admitted, as they both took sips of the champagne. Ethan considered that.
“Yeah, I suppose it would,” he conceded. “I guess I probably didn’t consider that aspect of it for you. It’s been pretty fast.”
“It has been—not that I’m complaining about the individual aspects,” Brianna said. “It’s just the way they mix together that’s weird.”
The first course arrived then, and the conversation shifted as they both sampled the succulent seafood, and sipped their champagne.
“Tell me about yourself,” Brianna suggested. “I mean—not the way you are now. How long have you been in New York?” Ethan hadn’t shared any of that information with Brianna before. He thought for a few moments.
“I’ve actually lived in the city my whole life,” Ethan said. “Born at Mount Sinai, less than ten blocks from my parents’ place on the Lower East Side.”
“So your parents must have been pretty comfortable,” Brianna pointed out. Ethan shrugged.
“They did pretty well for themselves,” Ethan admitted. “Dad was in finance, Mom was in patent law.” He ate one of the shrimp and Brianna finished off her crab cake.
“I thought my parents were doing pretty well to be living in one of the better gated communities in Broward,” she said, shaking her head slightly. “I can’t even imagine what the rent on even a basic apartment in Manhattan would be.”
“True enough,” Ethan said with a little smile.
They went on to other things, winding down from the workday as they waited for the rest of their food. For Ethan, it was a novel experience in a familiar setting: watching Brianna enjoy the high-quality, classic food, savoring everything and reacting to the balanced flavors, was so alluring—so gratifying.
Ethan took the check without even glancing at the total, when they’d finished the sumptuous meal, and they left. “Do you want to go to Rockefeller Center? We can definitely walk there from here—or we can just catch a cab straight to Madame Tussaud’s,” Ethan said as they stepped out of the restaurant together.
“We have time to do both,” Brianna said, looking around. Ethan didn’t take her hand in his—that was too intimate, too much like a girlfriend—but did touch her waist to turn her in the right direction, so they could start off in the direction of the first major landmark they were going to see that evening.
“How are you liking the city?” Ethan fitted his stride to Brianna’s, glancing around idly in the way he’d learned to when he was younger, walking to and from the private school his parents had sent him to. It was a constant impersonal scan, seeing the people on the sidewalk not so much as fellow persons, but as potential traffic impediments. It wasn’t as bad, in the dinner hours, as it would be during the day—and especially since they weren’t at Times Square or Penn Station, there weren’t as many tourists or other distractions. But there was no real part of the city that wasn’t teeming with life—part of why he loved it.
“It’s taking some getting used to for certain things,” Brianna admitted. “It’s actually quieter most of the week than I thought it would be.”
“You’re out in Brooklyn,” Ethan said. “It’s not as noisy out there—it used to be almost-suburbs, in terms of the families. Working class people, still. Most of them want to get some peace and quiet when they’re not at work or going to market.”
“Your apartment doesn’t catch much of the noise up here in Manhattan,” Brianna countered.
“I pay a premium for that,” Ethan told her. “Being that high up off the street, and the special double-thickness windows and all.” He grinned. “When I was in college, I had a place in Greenwich Village—cheap by those standards, but of course I still had my parents paying half my rent every month.” He shook his head.
“Oh, wow—yeah, you are never allowed to say you didn’t grow up privileged,” Brianna told him, smirking slightly. “If your parents could afford to pay half your monthly rent, even on a place in Greenwich Village…”
“Okay fine, I admit it: my parents were pretty well-off,” Ethan said, rolling his eyes. “Not nearly as well off as I am, but they were damned comfortable.”
“Here I was thinking my parents were doing well because they were able to pay my car insurance through university,” Brianna countered, shaking her head.
“You keep thinking of me as this rich dude who just buys everything, don’t you?” Brianna gave him an arch look but didn’t say anything. “What?”
“Well consider what you did to get me the job I have right now,” Brianna said, as they turned the corner and reached the last block on West 50th before they reached Rockefeller Center. “You took me out for an expensive dinner, and waited until the next morning to tell me that you owned the company I work for and that if I didn’t come and work as your assistant and business-hours toy, you’d lay off people in my department.” She paused and looked at him significantly again.
“First of all, I didn’t lie to you—I just didn’t tell you,” Ethan countered. “Secondly, I didn’t threaten to fire you, and I had reasons to have to lay people off throughout the company—not a lot, but some—anyway. It was just a matter of bringing those things together.”
“It still isn’t exactly okay,” Brianna pointed out.
“You liked me before I did that, though—and the sex, you have to admit, is amazing,” Ethan said. Brianna shrugged.
“The sex is amazing, and the card access to buy sexy lingerie to wear under my work clothes is nice,” she admitted. “And the paycheck is amazing. But it is a pretty rich-dude move to just throw money at the problem of not having anyone to fuck while you’re waiting for a delayed conference call.” Ethan snorted, but he had to admit she did have a point.
“Here we are,” he said, pointing out Rockefeller Center ahead of them. “We can go up to the top, if you want; get a nice view of the city.”
“Let’s do it,” Brianna said. “After you, boss.”