The Ice Queen Reigns On The Job

The Ice Queen Reigns - On The Job 2025

Or will she melt?

***

A/N - Please accept this story for the

On The Job Challenge 2025

. This story features Mary Beth, the ice queen. A hard-nosed woman who strikes fear into everyone she comes in contact with- well, almost everyone. This is being posted to the

Lesbian Sex

category, with a

mature

, age-gap theme as well. If this type of story isn't your preference, I completely understand and appreciate you stopping by.

All characters and names are entirely fictional. Any resemblance to real-life events or individuals is purely coincidental and unintentional.

Special thanks to Nicole for her invaluable editing and suggestions. Any remaining errors are entirely my own, these eyes aren't as sharp as they used to be!

~~

Mary Beth

As I followed my regular routine, I came into the office Wednesday morning and paused in the reception area for David to hand me a message. I walked to my office and reviewed my schedule of appointments for today. I saw that an interview was scheduled as my last appointment of the day. Suzie, I read the name. A frown crossed my face as my brow furrowed. Years ago, maybe twenty years ago, I dated a Suzie once. It was nearly the worst date ever; that woman seemed to be in a comatose state the entire date. I swear she slept during half of it.

There wasn't a second date.

I hoped that this Suzie wouldn't be as worthless as the last interviews I conducted. I needed a new personal assistant. I was out of time, as Nicolette left me two days ago. It was unimaginable the audacity of her and her husband to conceive while she was working for me. Ugh!

At least David was loyal to me; he would stay until I retire in ten or so years or he better. I named him the heir of my firm in my Last Will and Testament. It is the proper thing to do; he is my only nephew and the only child of my younger sister.

Yes, retire. I recently enjoyed a fine meal at Marcelo's, alone, just the way I like it, for my fifty-fifth birthday.

Now, enough of the pleasantries of life and on to the burdens of running my accounting firm.

Suzie

I rolled into the visitor parking spot, and after coming to a complete stop, I killed the engine of my bike. The steady rumble faded, and my Sportster Iron 883 vibrated slightly beneath me before settling into stillness. Her noise was replaced by the afternoon symphony of the city: a distant horn, the hiss of air brakes, and the chatter of people rushing past. Beside me, a delivery van was restocking the deli next door, its delicious smells mingling with the faint metallic tang of the urban air.

I dropped the kickstand, twisted the handlebars to lock them, and unzipped the short zipper of my leather jacket sleeve to check the time. My two-tone Seamaster Aqua Terra read 3:45- Plenty of time. I swung my leg over the bike and stood; the faint creak of my boots was muffled by the ambient city noise.

As I unzipped my jacket fully, I pulled the scrunchie from my hair and gave it a good shake. No way was I letting my helmet hair screw up this interview. From what I read, this woman, Mary Beth, was a stickler for perfection. So, I ditched the helmet today.

Risky? Sure, but I was taking my ex's advice to live a little more dangerously. She'd challenged me to push boundaries and experience new things. Vanessa, my ex, was good for urging others on, but she was a stick in the mud and really lacked any desire to do anything. We clashed after our last date when I rode up on my Harley to take her out for drinks.

That is why she is my ex.

I opened the saddlebags and grabbed my heels. I sat back on my bike and changed from my riding boots. I stowed them and locked my bike, putting the key into the back pocket of my slacks.

Walking toward the building, I moved through the flow of people clutching their afternoon coffee cups, some had their phones glued to their ears, others on their Bluetooth devices. The glass doors ahead reflected the late afternoon sun, smudged with the streaks of daily wear. Inside, the lobby was a quiet, climate-controlled contrast to the noisy street outside.

The elevator hummed as it carried me to the seventh floor. I followed the instructions sent by David. I was to come up and check in at the desk, and he would meet me at the reception area. I stepped from the elevator and walked to my right. The name stenciled on the floor-to-ceiling semi-frosted double glass doors confirmed I was in the right place.

Mary Beth Mills, CPA

The job listing was for a receptionist and personal assistant position at a boutique accounting firm. Well, here I go.

Taking a deep breath, I pulled open the right-side door and stepped inside.

The man at the reception desk greeted me. Even this late in the day, his shirt was crisp and perfectly pressed a sharp contrast to the casual chaos of the city outside. He smiled warmly as I checked in.

"May I assist you, Miss?" he asked, looking up at me over his expensive-looking designer glasses.

"Yes, I'm looking for David. My name is Suzie Fisher."

"Ah, Miss Fisher. You're here for the interview for Miss Mills's personal assistant and receptionist position."

I nodded.

"Please have a seat. I'll let Miss Mills know you've arrived."

Returning his smile, I shrugged off my jacket and hung it on the coat rack. The faint scent of leather lingered in the air as I sank into a chair, absentmindedly eyeing the scattered magazines on the coffee table. I picked one up, flipping through its glossy pages without much interest. My mind was elsewhere.

Why was I suddenly thinking about Vanessa again? Damn her.

In the background, the muffled hum of the elevator punctuated the quiet. The minutes stretched and blurred together.

The front desk phone rang, breaking the silence. David answered with calm efficiency, his conversation brief and professional. When he hung up, he looked up at me and smiled again.

"She'll see you now. Let me walk you back."

I stood and followed him down the hallway, the soft click-clack of my heels muffled by the carpet. Halfway down the hall, David turned and led me into a small conference room.

"She'll be right with you," he said. "I suggest you make a good impression and stand until she enters the room, and only sit after she offers you a seat."

Before I could respond, he turned and left.

Alone now, I shifted on my feet, suddenly nervous. My hands felt clammy as I gripped my folio. Why was I even feeling this way? I didn't need this job. I had a place to live and a steady income from my latest venture with my brother, Curtis.

At twenty-three, I was already financially stable. I was mostly independent and comfortably wealthy. My condo just outside the city was proof of that. Curtis and I had worked hard on our business while in college, and now we had a solid foundation for the projects we were developing.

This job was just something to keep me busy. Curtis had suggested it, believing I needed something to occupy my time and energy, even more after Vanessa.

Our first app, designed to streamline travel planning for families, had made us near-millionaires. The second app, geared toward senior citizens, hadn't been as lucrative, but we had intentionally discounted the price and subscription fees to make it more accessible.

Now, we are working on a third app, a companion to the first two that would connect amusement parks, theme parks, and water parks in one seamless platform for easy booking and planning. It was already in testing. Several major industry players had expressed interest and agreed to sponsor us as long as they received top billing. I immediately agreed. Curtis handled the design and development, while I managed the business side of things.

A door clicked shut nearby, pulling me from my thoughts. I turned to face the entrance, standing tall, waiting for Miss Mills to arrive.

Mary Beth

David had warned me about Miss Fisher.

Thin

, he had said, and wearing slacks instead of a skirt. At least she looked professional. But when I inquired about her general demeanor, he merely rolled his eyes and shrugged.

"Her hair?" I pressed.

"Longer than shoulder-length," he replied with a distinct lack of enthusiasm. "Not terrible."

That should have been the end of it. But then he mentioned the leather jacket.

I nearly dropped the phone. "

A leather

jacket, David?"

He hummed in affirmation. "Yes. Like a biker would wear."

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Oh, for heaven's sake, the nerve of her."

Without waiting for a response, I ended the call, muttering under my breath. At least this will be over quickly. I stood, straightened my blouse, and made my way to the small conference room.

Stepping inside, I found her standing. Well, at least she had some manners.

"Miss Fisher," I greeted coolly. "Please, have a seat, and we can begin."

I took my seat, watching as she settled into a chair opposite me at the oval six-person table.

"So," I began, leaning back ever so slightly. "Why a personal assistant? Who would want such a job?"

She smiled. The kind of smile that was practiced. Polished. Unnerving.

"Miss Mills, I am a successful businesswoman," she replied, placing her hands flat on the table. "My brother and I run a company together, but I only need to step in a few hours every few months, whenever I'm needed. He suggested I find something else to do with my time, something outside of managing our business finances." A pause.

Then, with just a touch of warmth, she added, "I enjoy being around people. Especially influential women."

That smile again. I was beginning to

despise

her smile.

"I like getting to know people," she continued. "I enjoy making their lives easier. Helping them become their best selves."

I had met her type before, excessively agreeable, disarmingly chipper. Women like her were the bane of the professional world.

"Miss Fisher ..."

"Suzie," she interjected smoothly. "First names are important. They show we genuinely care about people."

I almost scoffed, this little brat.

"Listen, Suzie," I said my patience thinning. "Let's not waste each other's time. This isn't going to work out."

And, once again, she smiled.

"Miss Mills, please understand, all I want is to help you," she said sweetly. "I need something to keep me occupied while my brother and I continue running our very successful business." Then, with a deliberate pause, she added, "And who knows? Once you're comfortable with me, we may even retain your services as our accountant. I could bring our multimillion-dollar business to you for your expertise."

I hesitated.

Before I could find a response, she moved swiftly, pulling her hands from the table and flipping open her folio. In seconds, she had spread out documents, a calendar, graphs, charts, and even an Excel spreadsheet.

"Let me show you my efficiency program," she said, her voice picking up speed. "I can maximize your time and streamline your workflow."

And then she launched into an explanation, something about an app she and her brother was developing, a revolutionary time management system, a seamless integration of schedules.

My head was spinning.

"Enough." I held up a hand, exhaling sharply. "Slow down. Let me process this."

I pulled the papers closer, expecting nonsense. But to my mild surprise, what I saw was ... well-structured. Logical, even.

I glanced up. "Suzie, I'll admit, some of this is interesting. But let's be honest. You've never worked for someone like me." I chose my words carefully. "You seem capable, I'll grant you that. But you have no idea what I actually need."

She tilted her head slightly, and this time, her smile held something sharper.

"That's where you're wrong, Miss Mills," she said to me leaning forward just enough to unsettle me. "You do need someone, Immediately. You're in a bind. In fact, I'd bet you're working against a deadline you didn't set, completely out of character for an influential and meticulous businesswoman like yourself."

My eyes narrowed. "And what, precisely, makes you so sure?"

She held up a finger. "First, when I applied, there was no phone screening. Instead, I was scheduled for an in-person interview within three days, which included a weekend. That's a rushed process."

A second finger. "Second, you're stressed. You barely glanced at my résumé, which means you came in blind."

A third. "Third, your accountant, David, he's listed as your protégé on your company website. And yet, he was the one to contact me instead of your assistant. That tells me something is off."

A fourth finger rose from her hand. "Fourth, the space David was sitting in when I arrived? Not his office, it is too feminine. That means it belonged to ... past tense Miss Mills, to someone else."

And then the final dagger. "Fifth, the job listing? It stated the start date was immediate. You're desperate, Miss Mills."

I loathed admitting it, but her analysis was uncannily accurate.

Not that I would ever let her know that.

I sat back, inhaling slowly. I didn't like her. Not one bit. She was too self-assured, too brazen, too ... much.

"Well," I said coolly, rising to my feet. "I'll be in touch with my decision, Miss Fisher. David will see you out. Thank you for your time."

And with that, I left.

Back in my office, I exhaled sharply, reached for the phone, and dialed.

"David, see her out. I left her in the conference room."

Without waiting for a response, I hung up.

Ten minutes later, a familiar knock sounded against my door frame. The door was slightly ajar.

"Yes, David?" I asked, not bothering to look up from my monitor.

"I hired her."

My fingers froze above the keyboard. "Excuse me?"

"She starts Monday," he said simply. "Fire me if you want, but you need her. And so do I."

My head snapped up. "What?" I bellowed. "How dare you?"

But the door was already closing.

David was gone.

~~

Monday morning - Mary Beth

Monday morning has always been my paradox. A nemesis I secretly cherish. While the world dreads its arrival, I revel in it, turning its bad reputation to my advantage. Mondays don't frighten or fight me; they welcome me.

Except for this Monday morning, I scowled as I maneuvered my BMW X1 into my reserved parking spot, my eyes locking onto the motorcycle parked three spaces down in the Employee Parking Only section.

By the end of the day, she would either quit or be fired.

Grabbing my purse and satchel, I strode toward the office entrance. The moment I stepped into the lobby, there she was. Without hesitation, I handed her my satchel.

"Don't scuff it against the wall or door, Girl." If I couldn't fire her, I'd at least make her miserable enough to leave. With a sigh, I added, "Follow me."

On the seventh floor, the elevator doors slid open. I turned to her. "71349."

Suzie entered the code with practiced ease, unlocking the office doors. She stepped aside, holding one open for me. Inside, she flicked on the master light switch, no doubt prepped in advance by David.

She trailed me to my office, placing my satchel on the desk without being told.

"Coffee. One sugar. Then come back so we can discuss your duties." I didn't bother looking at her.

"Yes, Miss Mills. And good morning."

That damn smile.

I clenched my jaw. Another unnecessary adversary, at least until I got rid of her. Already, she had wormed her way under my skin, proving herself an unwelcome challenge.

A soft knock, I glanced up.

"Three taps next time. I'll know it's you."

She stepped inside, carrying my coffee on a saucer, complete with a spoon, a croissant, and my preferred jam from the office refrigerator. A knife rested neatly beside the plate.

"I see David prepared you," I remarked.

"Yes, Miss." That smile again.

I ignored it. "Let's discuss my expectations for your trial period."

She sat down across from me. The nerve of her to sit uninvited! I nearly said something.

For the next ten minutes, I outlined my routine, including freshly refilled water throughout the day, absolute silence during phone and video calls, proper call screening, and lunch at precisely noon. All mail was to be delivered to me without delay.

She took notes diligently.

"I have coffee several times a day. If I need anything else, I'll call for you." I studied her, gauging how well she absorbed my instructions. "And tomorrow, Girl, wear a skirt it is to be knee-length. Proper business attire, heels, not flats."

"Yes, Miss Mills." She stood, smiling again.

That damn smile. If she stayed, I'd make sure it disappeared.

"And that smile isn't necessary."

She pressed her lips into a thin line. "Suzie. Mary Beth. My name is Suzie, and you are Mary Beth, Miss Mills, in case you forgot."

With that, she turned and walked out. Moments later, I heard her in the hallway, cheerfully greeting David.

"Happy Monday!"

Oh, the nerve of her.

The day dragged on. Lunch came and went. Three client meetings later, three knocks sounded.

"Mary Beth, David suggested I check on you and bring fresh water."

I squinted at her silhouette. The afternoon sun poured through the open blinds, straining my eyes. Without a word, she adjusted them.

"Mary Beth, if you'd like, I took elective courses in upper neck and back massage in college. If you ever need relief from strain, I'd be happy to help."

She set down the water before I could respond. I dismissed her with a wave.

Later, as I finished updating client portfolios, another three taps.

"We have fifteen minutes scheduled to review the week's agenda."

I nodded.

"This seems to be a recurring appointment," she noted, glancing at the time. "But the timing is a bit unusual."

"Well, it's when I have time," I snapped. "Sit. Let's go over my schedule."

She took her seat, carefully recording my instructions.

"Thursday will be a late night. You'll arrange my evening meal. There's a list of local restaurants. I expect dinner at six-thirty. Plan to work until at least eight."

She jotted everything down, unfazed.

As we wrapped up, I stood. "I'll see you in the morning. And remember, a skirt. Proper business attire."

Tuesday Morning - Mary Beth

I arrived to find that

vehicle

, if you could call it a vehicle, back in the employee parking lot. As I locked my car and approached the building, Suzie greeted me, holding the door open.

"Good morning, Mary Beth. Isn't it a wonderful morning?" she chirped.

I handed her my satchel and stepped into the waiting elevator. She wore a skirt, heels and even pantyhose. I had to admit, I was impressed.

The morning passed without incident. She got my lunch order correct. When I returned from the kitchenette, my water bottle sat on my desk, freshly refilled, as I preferred. The blinds had been adjusted just enough to shield me from the glaring sun.

She had done that for me. At least she was good for something.

As the day wound down, three familiar taps sounded at my door.

I looked up from my screen. "Yes? What is it?"

"Mary Beth..." she began.

I cut her off. "Miss Mills."

She swallowed. "Miss Mills." A pause. "You have twenty minutes of open time tomorrow morning."

I sighed. "And?"

"I'd like to present an efficiency model for your schedule, a recommendation for you and David."