Prologue
They met in office – and ended in bed.
To her, this came as a surprise, considering their first encounters. She had not disliked the new colleague when he started working in her company in late summer. She just had not cared about him. There were about 50 people, he was new and seemed to be a whippersnapper. His demeanor was reserved, maybe even arrogant, and definitely young, even boyish. During his first weeks, he had hardly spoken to anyone but observantly smiled at everybody. He seemed to count more on his attractiveness then brain – and attractive he was: six feet tall, expensive haircuts, ivory skin, prominent cheekbones and a cover-boy-smile ... physically a young Christian Bale, but without the least hint for a rebellious streak. She had tried to provoke him a little from time to time, but he had always smiled and consented silently. When referring to him towards other colleagues, she called him "the boring pretty boy". He was definitely not her cup of tea.
Later she would find out that he was not too much into tea either – but well into being teased.
Act 1
Earlier, at became obvious that he was a sucker for beer and brandy. He started to go for some after work drinks with two colleagues occasionally, and when they met at business receptions, she regularly spotted him with a glass just about to be refilled.
At one of these occasions, he stood alone in front of the bar waiting for his turn. He looked gorgeous she had to admit. Gorgeous and sexy. His tight suit could not hide the shape of his hard and young body ... that promised hours of pleasurable exploration.
She approached him from behind and derisively raised her bottle of diet coke to him: "Drinking again? No problem with getting up early tomorrow?"
He slightly turned to look over his shoulder. When he recognized her, pale color rose and washed over his high cheekbones. After a short moment of hesitation, he airily replied, "Depends on how long the night will last?!"
His smile was innocuous, but something in his tone caught her attention. He did not blink and kept staring at her when asking, "Can I get a drink for you as well?"
Was he flirting with her? Or was he just a colleague trying to make a first move towards better getting to know her a tiny bit? "Anyway, not completely boring." she thought.
He must have sensed her hesitation, but misunderstood – or simply ignored it. Instead, he gave her shoulder a quick pat, turned to the waiter and ordered two beers.
A pat on her shoulder! She hated being touched in public. She was neither a baby nor a fluffy cat or obedient dog. Nobody had the right to touch her, except her husband – whom she only saw during the weekends – and her mother when she met her two times per year.
Furthermore, she hated it when men just ordered for her without asking for her preferences. She was a grown up woman. She was able to read the menu. She was able to pay her own bill. She was definitely able to order what she wanted, not what others thought being good for her.
However and most importantly, she hated beer.
Beer was bitter, made you smell badly from your mouth and inflate your belly. She hardly ever drank, but at the rare occasions when having a drink seemed appropriate or even necessary, she always opted for wine.
To sum it up, the pretty boy had managed to make three mistakes in less than three seconds – and needed to learn his lesson.
"No thank you!" she said with a firm voice and looked at him with an arched brow when he turned back to her and was about to hand over a glass of fleshly tapped beer.
The teasing look on his face immediately faded and was replaced by an intensity that she had never seen before at him. He seemed startled and immoveable from surprise. It took him a long moment to recover himself. When he had finally managed, he turned away from her muttering "sorry", advanced towards the party, handed one of the two beers to a colleague, gulped down his own drink and resumed the conversation, if not in terms of perfect composure, at least of perfect civility.
She turned on her heels and left the reception without talking to anyone except the cloakroom attendant handing her coat and the taxi driver bringing her to her downtown apartment.
On her way home, she could not forget his beautiful face and wondered: Had it shown puzzlement? Had it been impotent anger? Or ... had it been excitement about the depreciation and humiliation?
She had never before thought about him for more than ten seconds. Now little memories of office situations raced through her mind. His passive behavior, his boyish shyness, his permanent asking for permission to do something ...: He obviously tended to be submissive in daily life. Could it be the same in a more private situation? Did he have the talent to be a boy toy for her fantasies to dominate? She decided to observe him a little more ...
Act 2
Some weeks later, she had made enough observations and had developed some dreams. There was the power dream. She put him in a pathetic beggar's position wanting her like crazy – but she just turned her back and left him alone in her the bedroom. And there was the dominance dream, in which she made him her love slave, gave him orders and enjoyed his kisses way up her leg until things got interesting...
She never got private with colleagues. ‘Never fuck the company' might be an old, but still very smart rule. Too much hassle for too little pleasure. But as she would start in a new company in January anyway, she decided that it was time to invite him to her place.
Fate was with her – or at least the weather or local electricity supplier. One late Monday afternoon in November, she was about to finalize next year's communication concept with him and two female colleagues. The latter were absent minded and more concerned with not to miss an opera performance tonight, so work was going slowly.
Suddenly the lights went off. They looked out on the street. There was hardly anything to see. Apparently, the whole area suffered under the power breakdown. Only her laptop was still working, but there was little power left. Hence, the concept was due for Wednesday's board meeting.
"Well, I guess I will cordially invite the three of you to my place to finish the concept. Beer and Pizza is on the company." she sighed with perfectly hidden excitement and ostentatious annoyance.
"Okay." He was the first to answer, and she was not sure if it was out of obedience, sense of duty or curiosity.
"Uhmm.", the two women hesitated. "It's almost 5 pm and we have to be at the theatre at the other side of the city in less than 2 and a half hour." She gave them a meaningful look with an arched brow and could see their brains race for a face-saving solution. "Maybe we could work in teams? You advance the concept now, and Christina and me will continue tomorrow already early in the morning?" Sandra finally suggested.
He stared at the three women with obvious astonishment and his cheeks overspread with the deepest blush. Her fingers twitched with the need to touch his face and feel if it was as hot as it just looked right now. However, she controlled herself, did not even look at him and answered: "Okay, "I'll send you our version via Email tonight and we can discuss your suggestions tomorrow at noon."
Then she called a taxi, packed her notebook together, took her coat from the wardrobe and smiled at him: "Hurry up; the taxi will pick us up in two minutes."
He stood up without a word, rushed out of the room into his office and came back a minute later with his black parka hung over one arm and a long walking-stick umbrella in the other hand.
"Good to see that you are prepared for every eventuality.", she smirked and left office behind him.
In the orange safety lightings of the office floor, her eyes rested on his sexy butt in the tight denim. She shivered a little and realized that her panties had already become damp. When they entered the elevator, she stood only centimeters behind him. She closed her eyes, reveling in his delicious scent. Her fingers shivered with the urge to touch him, to slide over the muscles of his chest, to wrap around his thick biceps, around his.... If she were not careful, she would be pressing against his body and nibbling on all his man parts within the next seconds in the elevator...
... However, the doors opened in the right moment.
Act 3
Her apartment was rather huge. Her husband and she had bought it some years ago before the neighborhood underwent gentrification. Parts of the area were a bit rough, especially during night, but the building was beautiful. As her husband worked in another town and only came home for the weekends, she had made it "her apartment" and it had become a perfect compromise between interior design and coziness.
Apparently, he had expected something else. When they entered the living room, he blurted out "You have so many plants and candles!" ... He immediately seemed to regret his remark and blushed.
She looked at him with amusement. "Don't judge a book by its cover. I like candles ... especially in the sleeping room."
He seemed unsure if he should answer – and what he should answer. "Were can we discuss things further?" he asked instead and blushed even more when she burst into laughter.
"You want to discuss about candles?" she teased him.
"No, the concept!"
"The concept of candles in the sleeping room? Do you like that?" she insisted.
Apparently, a few fantasies were skittering through his head. His face had turned into a deep red and he helplessly looked away from her. She could see him nibbling at his bottom lip. Her eyes dropped down to his well-worn denim. The soft layers of fabric could not hide that at least his body liked the concept. She ripped her gaze from his crotch and decided to give him a break.
"You want to sit down on the sofa and prepare the laptop? I will be back in a minute. By the way, I do not have beer, only wine. You prefer red or white?"
"Yes, sure ...erm ... and as you wish.", he answered.
This sounded very promising to her ...
She wanted to comb her fingers through those silken strands of his hair. She wanted to wrap her arms around him, assuring him that everything will be all right. She wanted to tell him "Don't worry. I am always careful with my boy toys."
However, she did none of it. Instead, she walked into the kitchen, picked a bottle of Chablis from the fridge and a Barolo from the shelf, filled a decanter with water, came back to the living room, arranged everything on the side table, dimed the lights – "to have less reflections on the laptop monitor", as she explained – and sat down next to him on the sofa. She still wore her anthracite women suit and had her hair tied back to a ponytail. Crimson heels contrasted the darkness of her appearance.
For the next two hours, they worked on the communication concept and emptied the wine. The alcohol relaxed him a little and gave fire to his imagination; at least he came up with some rather good ideas. He was concentrated on the laptop and had apparently framed the situation to be a business meeting.
