November 2019
“I’m sorry, Mr. Rosing, I haven’t seen Mr. Harris since he went to give his new assistant the tour,” Jessa explained apologetically.
Fantastic, another ignorant college grad with no life experience. I thanked the receptionist and set back off for the elevators. The firm Jon and I were working with had already sent back their confirmation and acceptance, but they wanted to increase the buy-out price and I wasn’t sure it was worth it, Jon and I needed to discuss it further - and that wasn’t going to happen while a new assistant hung off his arm.
I sighed and ran my hand through my hair, I was tired and I just wanted to curl up on the floor. Eloise had been exhausting at Plaisir, whiny, defiant, and overall just annoying. It felt mean to even think that but it was hard to find something nice to say about my recent trip. I usually liked playing with the new girls, I’d certainly enjoyed my time with Corrine, but lately, it had been more work than it was worth and I struggled to stay in Dom mode. Jon suggested taking some time away from the club, that maybe I had just spent too long flying myself between here and Washington and worn myself out.
The elevator doors opened to the twenty-third floor, Jon’s own floor since he needed enough space to house his ego. I headed down to the glass doors and unbuttoned my maroon jacket as I pushed my sleeves up, he had jacked the heat up despite it not even being that cold out yet. The lobby for his office was empty but his office door was open, and I could hear him talking to someone. The intern.
I knocked on the mostly open door and waited for him to invite me in, I wasn’t about to barge in and interrupt them rudely. As I stepped through the threshold, my eyes locked on the young woman sitting in front of his desk, she stood as Jon greeted me and my mouth went dry. Long bleach blonde hair hung down to her middle back in light waves, her cute heart-shaped face with wide light grey eyes and a dainty mouth with a pouty, perfect cupids bow stopped me in my tracks. She smiled politely at me and held out her hand in greeting.
“Patrick, this is Lydia Morrison,” Jon said, his eyebrow arched as if he dared me to question him.
“Patrick Rosing,” I told her, offering my most charming smile. “Lovely to meet you, Miss Morrison.”
Her cheeks coloured slightly, and my heart started pounding. “You as well, Mr. Rosing,” she said softly.
Her voice was high with a lilting accent that told me she was from California. My eyes roamed over her inappropriately; from her well-fitted purple satin blouse that perfectly framed her tits and made the buttons strain slightly, to her high-waisted black polyester skirt that clung to her curves and only came down to midthigh. Much too short for a professional workplace, but I wasn’t complaining – it allowed me to see her figure better, especially her plush hips and thighs, with a cinched waist. Her legs were amazing and only accented by her black pumps.
My mouth was bone dry, and I suddenly realized I was gawking at her openly, heat crept up my neck and I quickly explained why I had come upstairs. Jon looked vaguely amused but still agreed we should discuss it further before we made a firm decision.
“Miss Morrison, I’ll send you the details of my schedule as soon as possible. Please see the receptionist for your parking pass and she’ll set you up with a company phone. I’ll see you tomorrow, say… nine-thirty?” Jon said, indicating she should leave.
Lydia agreed and happily collected her purse, I congratulated her as she left and watched her ass sway with every bouncing step. I closed the door behind her once she was in the elevator, trying to hide my clammy palms from Jon’s inquisitive gaze.
“Berkeley,” he said as I dropped down onto the couch against the wall. “Major in business, minor in law, perfect grades, and a glowing reference from multiple professors.”
“She’s very pretty,” I said quietly, more to myself than him.
Jon snorted with suppressed laughter. “She’s younger than my daughter, and if Maritza thinks you’re old then this one will think you’re even older.”
It’s just a number. Lydia had graduated, so she had to be at least twenty-one - perfectly legal, and there was nothing to say she had problems with older men. Plus, I couldn’t exactly tell Jon that no matter what his daughter told him; she came onto me every chance she got. So, maybe the same thing could happen with his assistant…
“How is it that you manage to have a revolving door of twenty-somethings parading into the office?” I demanded half-heartedly, a smirk tugging at my lips.
He grinned back and spread his hands. “Thank the lovely University of California, I don’t choose who they send, but I’m not going to complain about this one.”
Unlike the last one. Lindsay, who spent most of her time fucking her way through the lower echelons in the office, and the rest of it live-tweeting some drama she was always watching on her phone. She had been nice enough, but she wasn’t committed to actually working and struggled to keep up with Jon’s schedule. They were rarely interested in doing a good job once they found out it was a temp assistant position and not a paralegal position.
“Don’t fuck where you work,” he warned. “I don’t want sexual harassment allegations, or someone wandering around all mopey when shit doesn’t work out the way you want it to.”
I rolled my eyes at him. “Fuck off, I’m not in the habit of hitting on interns,” I told him sourly. “Do you want this acquisition or not? Because I don’t think it’s worth the price.”
“They just started drafting a takeover for Hudson, if we buy it out now then we get to finish it,” he argued. “What we make off that will more than pay for the acquisition, and the expansion of a new firm.”
I sighed and ran my hand through my hair in exasperation. He was so dense sometimes, unable to see anything other than the almighty dollar. We continued arguing for another brutal hour, eventually, I just caved and let him have it. He just wouldn’t let it go. The minute I left his office I was headed to my own, wondering if Lydia’s personnel file was filled out yet.
I shared my floor with several other offices for some of the highest earners on site, I didn’t feel the need to keep the twenty-second floor to myself, and I found it lonely enough when people weren’t here as it was. I locked the door behind me and threw my jacket on the leather chair as I opened up my laptop and stretched my legs out.
It took me all of two minutes to find her in the system. 5’5”, 149 pounds, officially twenty-three in February, clear drug test, excellent transcripts, an even better resume, but no emergency contact or family listed. That’sodd. It took a bit more digging and several emails back and forth with Jessa before I found out she didn’t have a family and came from the foster care system, along with a short stint in juvie. That was interesting, but I didn’t want to pry further into her private life through work means.
It was slightly unethical, definitely morally questionable, but I found her on Facebook after a few tries. It took longer than it should have, but eventually, I put together that she went by Dia on her social media. And it was all unlocked, everything was visible. Including an album dedicated to beach photos of her in the tiniest bikinis I had ever seen outside of Europe.
I was hard almost instantly as I stared at the pixelated image of her laying on the sand, hair spread around her in a blonde halo, her tits straining against the navy blue triangles trying to hide her erect nipples, her bottoms riding low and showing the dip of her hips and barely concealing the hot pink heart outline. With her hands thrown up into peace signs as she grinned widely at the camera, she looked carefree and ecstatic to be there. The date indicated it was sometime after her graduation in the spring.
A knock at my door made me drop the computer as I jumped to my feet, my face red, a sudden cold washed over me and I stared at the door for a second as I waited for my heart to start beating again. Fuck me. I quickly gathered up the now dented laptop and tossed it on the couch as I went to answer the door, trying not to look as guilty as I felt.
***
I spent the latter half of the month finding every excuse possible to go up to Jon’s office, staying as long as I could in his little waiting room to chat with Lydia. She was very sweet, a little naïve, and when she was comfortable with someone her voice would take on a deeper, more casual tone. The more we talked, the more she opened up, I liked her sarcasm, though she always looked slightly embarrassed when she realized what she had said. Jon found it endlessly amusing, even going so far as to send her down to my office with inconsequential errands several times a day.
Her wardrobe captivated me; her endless collections tiny skirts, semi-sheer blouses, and skintight stretch pants had me all but drooling. I only talked to her when she initiated it though, terrified that I would bother her or make her uncomfortable. She always spoke to me though, happily, animated and never indicating that she found my presence a hindrance.
By her third week, Jon and I had sussed out her crucial flaw: chronic lateness. The girl could not get anywhere on time, not if her life depended on it. It wasn’t enough to even consider firing her though, she was too good at her job and Jon and I both trusted her to communicate with our own clients directly. Today she happened to be running seventeen minutes late, her personal record. I had just gotten in the elevator when Lydia rushed in behind me, her face flushed, her forest green, knee-length trench coat open and billowing around her. Her hair was pulled into a high ponytail with tendrils framing her face, her cheeks were almost as red as her lips, her gray eyes seemed brighter than usual.
Lydia adjusted her black messenger bag and pulled her phone out. “Good morning, Mr. Rosing,” she greeted sweetly.
Her smile when she glanced up from her phone made my stomach do summersaults. “Good morning, Lydia,” I replied. “Going for your all-time best today?”
She laughed and tucked the device back in her pocket. “Nothing shows consistency like being consistently late,” she said dainty shrug.
“Or consistently back-talking?” I teased.
I caught her eyes flick to me in the reflection of the elevator walls. “Only with you,” she promised, tilting her head slightly. “Did I forget about something?”
I frowned in confusion. “I don’t think so. Why, is something wrong?”
“No,” she said quickly. “You just looked nice is all, I was worried I forgot about a meeting.” The flush she had from the wind turned into a heated blush as she stared intently at the doors.
Oh, that’s cute. I smirked and shoved my hands into my pockets as I lounged back against the wall. “Are you telling me I don’t look nice the rest of the time?”
Lydia turned quickly, her hair whipping over her shoulder as she spun, her too-sweet face contorted into a look of horrified embarrassment. “No!” she defended. “No, you always look nice, I just…” she trailed off, unable to meet my gaze.
I leaned in close to her, the scent of lavender and vanilla engulfing me in a seductive cloud. “I’m teasing you, Lydia,” I assured her.
She glanced up at me, the corner of her bottom lip trapped in her teeth for a brief second as her eyes met mine before obvious relief washed over her. “I’m sorry, I’ve been spaced out lately,” she said quietly.
She watched my mouth as we stood just a little too close, the elevator dinged loudly – our only warning before the doors opened. I stood up straight, trying to look bored as I gestured for her to go on ahead of me. I wanted to believe she looked almost disappointed as she did a quick double-take before heading down the hall to Jon’s office. Every purposeful step was punctuated by a sharp click of her platform heels, her hips swaying in a hypnotic pattern that made me stare at her ass openly.
I liked her, I liked when she was brazen and quippy, and even more when she caught herself and became flustered and embarrassed. And that meant I watched her closely, closely enough to see the way she looked up at Jon with adoration when he couldn’t see, or the way she was quick to jump to her feet and stand as close as appropriate when he entered the room. I didn’t want to see it, she wasn’t the first of his assistants to look at him that way, and she wouldn’t be the last either. But I wished she would look at me like that, even just once.