Submitting to Her Page 6

  She walked past the front of the desk and stooped to pick something up from the door.

  "Here," she said, dropping her damp thong in my hands. "This time I'm giving them to you as a present. But you will save yourself for me, won't you, Jones?"

  "Yes, Ma’am," I said, feeling the stirrings of rebellion between my thighs, which would have to be quelled by a cold shower or hefty slug of scotch.

  "I like thinking of you saving yourself for me."

  Then she was gone, and it wasn't until afterward, when I was walking to the parking lot, that I realized I didn't even mind that I hadn't been allowed an orgasm of my own. That kiss had been so special.

  Chapter Eight

  I spent almost the whole of the next working day putting together a briefing on our prospective client, RJS Solutions. The promise of spending time with Zoey through this pitch had me working on full throttle. I desperately wanted to please her, I desperately hoped she would reward me in some way.

  As soon as 9am came along, I told the rest of my team who were in the office that day to get on with their calls and try not to bother me, so I could focus all my energy on RJS, a communications software company based in Philadelphia, which we were hoping would spend some money to flash their rebranded look within the pages of our telecoms magazine.

  At about 11am, Zoey walked out of her door and without even a glance my way, headed away down towards the elevators, dressed smartly for a meeting somewhere.

  I felt my heart suddenly flutter, with a sudden burst of anxiety that she would be gone the rest of the day, that my appointed time to brief her about RJS might not happen.

  While I was still watching her walking off toward the elevators, subtly trying to make it look as though I wasn't, I noticed an email pop up on my screen.

  Aiden,

  I have a meeting in Annapolis. I'll be back this evening for your briefing.

  Make it good, I really want to pump you for information on this one.

  Zoey

  I prepared the most in-depth report possible on our potential client. I couldn't quite re-write every line of their software platform, but I was getting close to it by the end of the afternoon as the rest of my team headed home, I knew so much about them.

  I waited nervously as all around me picked up and left, as though I were waiting for an appraisal or exam. Print-outs of my briefing sat in front of me on clean paper warm from the printer. The clock ticked loudly towards six o'clock, six-thirty, seven. It was up on the wall maybe twenty yards away, but the office was so silent it sounded as though it was just above my desk.

  Where was she?

  The hum of a vacuum grew steadily, and then there was the cleaner, venturing inside Zoey's office, and I felt the gloom of disappointment choking my heart. It was really getting late - surely Zoey was a no-show.

  It was nearly seven o'clock when my phone suddenly bleeped to announce the arrival of a text message.

  > Meet me downstairs in the parking lot. Z

  That was all it was, but those few words lit a fuse inside my chest, and I was suddenly up on my feet, scrambling to put my arms in the sleeves of my jacket and grab my briefing notes before bolting for the elevators. Zoey was here!

  After a frustratingly slow descent in the elevator, I came out into the barren concrete environs of the parking lot, and for a moment wasn't entirely sure what I was doing, or for what I was supposed to be looking. The place was deserted - so much so that I could easily see over to my car, even though I'd parked it a fair way from the door. There was somebody standing by it - Zoey.

  I raced over, but on the way tried to regain some kind of dignity. She wouldn't want to have anything to do with me if I made myself look like an idiot.

  "Drive me home, Jones, will you?" she asked me.

  "Of course, Ma'am."

  "You can start briefing me on the way."

  *

  It wasn't far to her place over by Patterson Park, though the traffic made it slow.

  Sitting in the back while I chauffeured her, she seemed to listen to me carefully enough, and did ask intelligent questions. I hadn't expected to have to go through it all from memory, without any of the notes I'd prepared, but after so many years of giving presentations, and the amount of time I'd immersed myself in the inner workings of RJS, that was no feat.

  I adjusted my rearview mirror so I could glance at her now and then, to check on how she was taking my presentation. I did get the impression she was slightly distracted - but then seeing her back there through the mirror, I had to try not to be distracted myself.

  After a while, I saw her notice me glancing at her through the mirror, and as I continued to go through my research, she flashed me a sexy smile, and I actually blushed.

  "Don't stop, Jones," she said, having unfastened a few of her shirt buttons to show me some cleavage. "Did I tell you to stop?"

  "No Ma'am."

  "So, then. You were saying about the integration with other platforms…"

  Indeed I had been discussing the enthralling subject of current efforts at RJS to integrate its software with the existing operating platforms of major clients, one way to expand distribution and ease of adoption for their products. Yet it was pretty difficult to continue as I looked into the mirror to see my beautiful Zoey making herself look more like a sexy secretary from a porn flick than my well-dressed boss.

  Her shirt opened sufficiently to show her lacy white bra, her skirt sliding gradually up to show the tops of her stockings, and then at last her white lacy panties.

  Oh God.

  I was a little worried that people in other vehicles, maybe even on the street, could see her - but she didn't seem to care. Caressing her legs, the sound of her hands sweeping over the nylon, I couldn't avoid looking.

  Then she was stroking her pussy through her underwear, her fingers tracing out little circles over the luxurious lace, and I was having trouble keeping my eyes on the road, let alone my thoughts in my presentation.

  "…since 2009 they've been targeting the healthcare sector with solutions that specifically cater to the management of patient records."

  "Is that right? Maybe we should be talking to them about Health Professional."

  "It's part of the package I've prepared."

  "You can show me your package when we get to my apartment, Jones."

  I looked back to see her slip her panties aside, her hands moving over her pussy. My cock was so hard as I sat there, not quite knowing what to say. I could smell the faint but growing aroma of her arousal as she touched herself, and it sent shivers down my spine.

  "Turn here," she said, directing me into a residential street off the little park at the top of the hill.

  I managed to focus enough to slot the car into one of the few available places on the street, and then Zoey leaned forward, and suddenly covered my face with what I knew instantly was her underwear. I breathed in the exhilarating scent of her perfume and her pussy.

  "Are you ready to serve, Jones?"

  "Of course, Ma'am."

  "Good. I think this evening I need a massage."

  *

  Zoey had a great place. It was a row house - the end unit - two floors and a basement offering high ceilings and stylish interior decor. Walking through the first floor's open plan kitchen living space, which had the interior wall left as bare brick to give the place a cozy, slightly artsy feel, we ascended to a second floor that was white-washed throughout. This place had to be three times the square footage of the cruddy suburban apartment I shared with Robin. Spacious, bright, clean, it made me suddenly covet her VP's salary.

  The massage table was already set up in her bedroom, making this after-hours visit appear a touch premeditated. It was a sturdy-looking table with a cushioned brown-leather top and strong steel legs that could probably have propped up a rhino or two. Not a cheap massage table at all.

  "I used to play tennis in college," she explained as she noticed the look on my face. "I was always getting muscle strains, s
o I used to get regular massages."

  I actually found myself pleased to find the old thing was a trifle dusty, it hadn't been used in a while. Somehow the thought of her using it, that some masseur had touched her body while she'd been stretched out before him, caused flickers of jealousy within me.

  "Hey, there's some towels in the closet down the end of the hall," Zoey said, removing her glasses, then ushering me away as she began to unfasten the buttons on her white shirt. Calling after me, "Oh, and get some oil from the bathroom, Jones!"

  The stack of towels was easy enough to find, and even they had a hint of luxury about them - white and fluffy like the kind you'd want to steal from a top hotel. The oil was hidden away behind the mirrored door of a bathroom cabinet above the sink. Coconut-scented.

  I returned to find her removing her white lace bra, leaving such a stunning sight that it made me pause a moment or two before re-entering the bedroom.

  "Put the big towels down for me to lie on," she said, assuming I was there, so denying me the ability to wait and gawp.

  She already had a small towel - a bright pink one - which she had hung around her waist. She climbed onto the massage table and lay face-down. I draped my jacket over the arm of one of the couches, and then proceeded to roll up my shirt sleeves, knowing I'd only get oil all over them otherwise.

  "Your briefing was good, Jones. You should definitely get a reward for that. I think conversation privileges for the rest of the evening might be a suitable reward, don't you?"

  "Yes, Ma'am."

  "Okay, we'll relax our Question rule."

  "Thank you, Ma'am."

  "You going to take off your clothes? I can't see my beautiful cock if you don't," she said, her voice so smooth and seductive, lighting a fire within me.

  She gave me a simple little silent nod, yet those expressive dark eyes of hers made it clear she wanted to watch me strip. I can tell you, it felt a lot easier taking my clothes off in the confines of her private apartment. I still found myself a touch nervous, but it was more about whether she was impressed by what she saw, whether this lowly man was ultimately going to be enough to maintain the affections of such a beautiful woman than the issue of violating company rules.

  Lowly man. Wow, this beautiful woman was really affecting me. I was a regular gym user - I'd never had qualms about stripping off in front of girls before, and I'd been with countless. Yet somehow, with Zoey maintaining the balance of power in our fledgling relationship, it all felt more significant. There was more at stake, I was more desperate to make an impression, it was more important than ever that my audience should be satisfied with what I showed her.

  "Mmm… that's better," she purred. "Underwear, too. What's the use of overstepping the boundaries of employment ethics if I can't see that wonderful beast?"

  Down came my boxers, and I was suddenly completely exposed to my boss again.

  Her smile alone thickened my cock, and that made her quietly catch her breath. God, even showing her the goods felt a hundred times more significant than any of the girls I'd been with before. As I dropped my underwear on the pile of my clothes on the nearby couch, and went to pick up the bottle of oil again, I felt a flicker of nerves again - I had never been in a relationship where everything mattered so much. I was really opening myself to pain if Zoey decided to drop me.

  Pouring some of the coconut-scented oil into my palm to warm it up before touching her, I tried to repress my fears - they could do no good now. When the pain came, I'd just have to suck it up. Having put her through what I did all those months, I knew I fully deserved it.

  "Maybe I'll keep feeling in the mood to reward you if your massage is good."

  "Thank you, Ma'am," I said, trying to keep the emotion out of my voice.

  "Okay, go ahead."

  Facing away from where I stood, she was flat out before me, her skin pale but smooth, and so soft to the touch - even before I started applying the oil. I ran my hands over her back and shoulders, sweeping over her to spread the slick liquid.

  "How did your meeting in Annapolis go?"

  "Oh. so-so," she said. "There's an insurance company over there I was hoping might be interested in Risk Management, but I'm not sure they're going to bite."

  "Insurance firms are getting smacked about by the storms - I've had no luck with them for months."

  "They were in International Liability last year, so I figured they might be open to this," she said. "And they seemed to be, at first. Took two hours to tell me their budget was committed through next year."

  I was no expert at massage, but I think I was doing okay. I was certainly teasing out some sighs that sounded promising, and even a few moans as I applied the pressure over her muscles, particularly around her shoulders and neck.

  "I guess toward the end of the meeting, I got a little distracted," she said casually.

  "You did?"

  "Oh you know, knowing I had you on hand to brief me when I got back."

  "Do you want to go over the rest of the numbers?"

  She laughed, "You know I wasn't thinking about the numbers, right?"

  I coaxed the muscles in her arms, and she moaned almost as though enjoying a mild orgasm. I wondered if this could become a regular occurrence, and resolved to track down some information about how to actually perform a decent massage, the correct way. On this first occasion, I had only what I'd ever seen in movies and on TV to guide me - and actually, I remembered a girlfriend in college giving me a back rub a few times after a football game, though that had always been more of a pretext for sex.

  It seemed like a straightforward way to make Zoey feel good, too. I wouldn't say easy, because although I started off touching her only lightly, I found that applying the pressure seemed to make her moan a little more, encouraging me to push more and more firmly into her muscles. Even with the oil to help me, it was getting to be hard work after a while, but I had this strange idea that if I could only learn what made her feel good, she'd want to keep me doing this.

  Oh, guys are so selfish, always thinking about number one. And back then, I was still the same selfish guy, I realize that. But the thing was, what I wanted more than anything was Zoey, and so I found myself putting in a serious amount of effort to make her feel good in the hope I'd keep her.

  "Oh God, that feels amazing…"

  It wasn't too hard to pick up, actually. I experimented using different parts of my hand, the tips of my fingers, even my wrist and forearm. When something seemed good, I ran with it for a little while before moving on to something else.

  "You done this before, Aiden?" she asked. She made me feel so warm inside using my first name now, it seemed so soft, somehow, part of my reward.

  "Nope," I said. "First time."

  "Seriously? You never did this for a girl before?"

  "Never."

  "You're pretty good. But seriously? Where the hell did you go to college? The guys were always giving us back rubs - it was an easy way to - "

  "Get into your panties?"

  "Well, maybe I shouldn't say 'easy'."

  I couldn't help but wonder what Zoey would look like in her tennis outfit, with some Ivy League groupies on hand to give her rub-downs after her matches. The jealousy burned inside me, but I found I actually liked the idea that this hot sports girl was now stretched out in front of me, and I could run my hands all the way down her body, almost. Certainly I pushed the boundaries on how far my hands could venture under her towel, anyway.

  "You like me talking about getting massages by other guys?"

  "Not particularly."

  "You're jealous? Everyone in the office says you date a different girl every week."

  "It was never every week," I insisted, though I'd noticed a hint of admiration in her voice, pride in her own ability to tame such an apparently wild animal.

  "Well, you don't get to do that any more."

  "No, Ma'am."

  That warmed my insides like I couldn't believe - she wanted me to commit to her, to se
e only her. I was more than willing, strange as it seemed considering my dating history.

  A little more oil, and I moved on to her legs, teasing out her calves and thighs, and then moving up to slip not-so-innocently under the towel again, this time from below. Edging a little further each time, seeing her smile as I managed to spread the oil up over her round behind.

  "Feel good?" I asked her, edging up the towel now to expose her behind, and the pinkness that lay between her thighs.

  "Oh, yeah," she moaned, then flinched and giggled as I poured a little cool oil over her buttocks, before boldly using both hands to squeeze and fondle her flesh there.

  Well, this girl had allowed me to wedge my face into her pussy, so I guess she was warming up to the idea of me seeing her naked. As I massaged her pert derriere and her thighs, I drew her legs apart a little, and she wasn't stopping me. Was this all par for the course for a massage? Is this what happened to her after tennis in college, and when she had her injuries?

  She said: "Are you sorry I've forced you to stick with me now?"

  "Not at all."

  "You seem to like it."

  "Like it?"

  "Being led by a woman. I would never have thought."

  My hands got closer and closer to her pussy, the inner edges of my hands even brushing over the edges of her sensitive pinkness here and there as I rubbed her butt, sweeping my hands down her inner thighs.

  The little groans as I did so made me bolder, so that I was actually nudging her pussy lips, squeezing them together as my two hands swept down her body.

  "I don't have a problem with it," I said.

  "I'm surprised. You never struck me as someone who would be told what to do by someone like me."

  "I probably wasn't. You opened my eyes."

  I wanted to bury my face between her thighs, but she hadn't told me to. Would I cross the line into disobedience by doing so?