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*****
I was nervous to see Vivienne on Monday. While I didn't have much of a legitimate reason to feel that way, as we weren't exclusive by any means, the feelings I was starting to have toward my boss were hard to ignore. I hated the thought that I had ruined whatever we might have had by being with John, but I didn't have a choice. Just like I hadn't had one with her.
But now that I did have a choice, it was harder and harder to stop thinking of Vivienne.
The experience with John had been different, more brutal. He seemed to care very little about my pleasure. The conflicting emotions following his forcible interaction made me feel very confused, and I know that seeing Vivienne was only going to make it worse. How could I be so ashamed and aroused at the same time with John, while feeling beautiful and empowered by sexual contact with Vivienne?
What did I really want?
Monday evening I was called into Vivienne's office. While I had spent all day trying to decide whether or not to tell her, being in her presence made all of that deliberation pointless. She was sitting elegantly behind her desk, her eyes raking over my body as I approached her.
"Did you have a good time at your other internship last week?" She asked evenly.
Did she know?
"It was fine." I said simply, politically. Whether she was digging for information about the inner-workings of Gent or probing to see if I had engaged in similar contact with someone over there, I couldn't be sure.
She studied me.
"Tonight." She said softly. My heart fluttered and my pussy became slick.
I wordlessly nodded.
"Nine thirty. Don't be late."
~ * ~ * ~ * ~
I wasn't. I couldn't be, not with the excitement and anticipation I felt at being with Vivienne again. Her smooth hands, long nails, and perfect mouth were all I could think of on my way into the office. I hadn't even bothered to wear panties, knowing that they would just make the ride even more uncomfortable.
I promised myself that I needed to talk to her. I needed her to know, it was the only fair thing I could do. What if John was watching me, again? She might want to hide herself, maybe even end this thing that we had.
God, I hope she didn't.
She walked in to the office right as I finished setting everything up. We weren't live yet. I needed to tell her.
She looked amazing, a tight fitting black dress looked like it was painted on her skin. I wanted to touch her, feel her perfect breasts.
Would I even get the chance?
"Vivienne, I need to tell you something." I said, my voice soft. She set down her purse, which made a heavy clunk on the table.
She looked at me, waiting.
"John McAlister recognized me." I said softly. "He's seen me on camera before."
"How? You wear a mask?" Her voice was sharp, but she seemed more confused than angry.
"This tattoo." I said quietly, showing her the small sun on the underside of my bicep.
"What happened?" Her voice went flat, emotionless.
"He threatened me." I said. Vivienne's eyes narrowed, but she couldn't say much. She had threatened me as well. "And then, he fucked my face." It was course, rude language. But it was accurate. "He hasn't seen me recently, though. He doesn't know about us."
Vivienne stiffened.
"Did he make you come?" She asked. I shook my head. Her features softened.
"Only you have made me come." I responded. She smiled, briefly, and grew serious again.
"Well let's pretend then that he's watching you tonight." She said, reaching into her purse. "And let's give him some ideas for how he can make you come next week."
I was stunned. So, she wasn't mad... but now it was a competition? She was willingly going to engage in something with me, what I wasn't quite sure of yet, and then allow me to do the same with him.
