Author's note: I tend to write slow burn lesbian romance stories, but below is something else—clipped from a story that won't see the light of day, because I wasn't able to tie it all together. It works well enough as a stand alone bit, though.
Please bear in mind that this piece focuses heavily on dominance, submission and power. With below originally being the culmination of a longer story, the first part leans pretty heavily into the D/s aspect.
Enjoy Emma Clark and Amanda Watson's steamy office romance.
~~~
Amanda stood in her bedroom, staring at the assortment of clothes laid out on her bed. Her hands hovered over them as indecision gripped her. What did one wear to an invitation like this? Or, more accurately, to someone like Emma Clark? Her green eyes shifted to the matching black thong and bra she had set aside. Those were a given—the delicate lace was elegant, understated, and entirely appropriate for tonight's unspoken undertone.
Her gaze moved to the dress and then to the jeans and top she had considered earlier. Casual? Yeah, too casual. She eyed the minidress, a sleek black number with a zipper running down the back. It clung to her in all the right places, and the simplicity of its design made it seem effortless, yet alluring.
After a moment's hesitation, she decided on the dress, slipping into it and smoothing the fabric against her hips. She turned to her reflection, biting her lip as she adjusted the zipper. As she turned, taking in all the angles, she saw a petite but toned woman. More wiry than curvy, with vibrant red hair that was rich in copper undertones in the right light. She shook her head, dismissing the doubts. If anyone would appreciate precision, it was Emma.
Standing outside the building, a place she had never visited before, impressive feat of architecture—modern, with sleek lines and tall windows that promised breathtaking views. The door opened to reveal her manager standing there, sharp as ever, her smile warm but still retaining the guarded air Amanda had come to associate with her. It was a genuine smile, however, and she allowed herself a small breath of relief.
"Amanda," Emma said, her blue eyes sweeping over her. "You look beautiful."
Amanda's cheeks flushed slightly as she returned the compliment. "Thank you, Ms. Clark. You look... stunning, as always."
Emma was dressed in smart casual attire, a simple but elegant combination of tailored trousers and a crisp, fitted top. She looked effortlessly polished, her hair framing her face in soft waves. The way she carried herself made Amanda feel as though she belonged in a magazine spread, yet there was something inviting about her demeanor tonight—a subtle shift from the controlled professionalism Amanda was used to.
"Come on in," Emma said, stepping aside and offering Amanda a glass of wine as they moved into the apartment. The space was as sophisticated as the woman who inhabited it—clean lines, muted tones, and accents of luxury in the form of art and carefully chosen decor.
"I bought you a present," Emma said, voice unusually soft, tinged with something Amanda couldn't quite place. Excitement, perhaps? It made her heart skip a beat.
"Oh, Ms. Clark, you didn't have to..."
"Follow me," Emma interrupted gently, setting her wine glass down and gesturing toward another room. Amanda followed, her heels clicking softly against the hardwood floor until they reached the bedroom.
On the floor near the foot of the bed were two neatly wrapped presents, one larger and one smaller. Amanda raised an eyebrow, glancing at Emma.
"Ms. Clark," she began, "you really didn't have to do this."
Emma's expression shifted, the faintest hint of hesitation crossing her face. The confident, unflappable demeanor Amanda was so used to seemed to falter for just a moment. Silence stretched between them, heavy and charged, as Emma appeared to search for the right words.
"I like you," Emma said finally, her voice low but firm. Amanda's breath caught, her eyes widening slightly. She could swear she'd never seen Emma blush, but now... there was a subtle warmth creeping up her cheeks. "And I know I'm not a woman of many words, so this is my way of showing appreciation."
Emma cleared her throat, her composure returning almost instantly. "Open the small one first. That's for you."
Amanda knelt down, her fingers trembling slightly as she unwrapped the small box. Inside, nestled against a bed of velvet, was a golden necklace with a single diamond that caught the light with every tiny movement. Her fingers brushed against the delicate chain as though it might disappear if she touched it too firmly.
"Ms. Clark," Amanda whispered, her voice barely audible. "It's... it's beautiful. I don't even know what to say."
Emma stepped closer, her gaze unwavering as she looked down at Amanda. "It suits you," she said simply, her tone carrying both finality and affection. "And it's meant to remind you of something."
Amanda looked up, her emerald eyes searching Emma's face. "What's that?" she asked softly.
"That you're mine," Emma said, her voice tinged with warmth. "And I take care of what's mine."
Amanda's heart raced. For a moment, she felt as though the world had narrowed to just the two of them, the city outside forgotten, the tension of the day slipping away.
"Thank you," Amanda said finally, heavy with emotion.
Emma smiled again, softer this time, and reached down, her fingers brushing Amanda's cheek. "You're welcome. Now, try it on."
Amanda's fingers brushed against the delicate chain of the necklace as she fastened it around her neck. The diamond caught the soft light of the room, each tiny facet glittering with elegance. It fit perfectly, sitting just above her collarbone, as though it had been made for her. Amanda glanced at the mirror nearby, the sparkle of the necklace drawing her eye before her attention shifted back to Emma.
"Beautiful," Emma hummed, her fingers tracing along the delicate chain of the necklace, her thumb brushing over the diamond at Amanda's throat. There was something in her eyes, a yearning look, that made Amanda's chest tighten—a mix of pride, possessiveness and quiet satisfaction.
"Thank you," Amanda said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Her attention was then drawn to the larger box sitting nearby, its black exterior tied neatly with a satin bow. It exuded mystery, its stark elegance as deliberate as everything else in Emma's world.
