Executive Privilege Ch 02 1

Wendy was awake before her alarm went off. She expected to wake up refreshed and ready to take on the day. Instead, her mind was instantly back to the events of yesterday. The embarrassing scene at the Christmas party, Michael's cryptic conversation about a new account, even her evening with Jon left her... frustrated.

She slipped out from beneath the sheets, not wanting to wake Jon. His light snoring followed her as she padded across the hardwood floor on her toes, she was freezing. She wrapped her hands around her shoulders, her nipples straining against the fabric of her nightgown. She couldn't wait until they got some warmer weather.

The shower hissed and stammered to life as she pulled her nightgown off and waited for steam to begin to rise before stepping under the spray. She let out a long sigh, running her fingers through her hair while the hot water pelted her skin. She closed her eyes, letting the water wash away her frustrations and fear of what the day would bring.

"Everything's going to be fine," she told herself, pouring body wash on her loofa and scrubbing her sensitive skin.

Maybe Jon was right, Michael would just laugh the entire thing off and things would go back to normal. Besides, what could he possible think would happen with that dumb IOU anyway?

"Ohhh." The coarse fabric of the loofa slid across her chest, surprising her with just how nice the texture of it felt against her chest. Images of Michael leering at her flooded her mind. Her nipple throbbing for attention. She bit her lip, giving into the sensation for just a moment before allowing the water to wash away the soap, and perhaps also the shame.

"This is ridiculous," she mutter to herself, lathering up her stomach. Even that simple touch seemed to ignite sparks between her thighs. Wendy peaked her head out of the shower, it was faint, but she could still hear Jon's gentle snores.

"It's his fault," she thought to herself as her hand began sliding lower on her body. "He got me so close last night and then just..." Her mouth opened in shock as her finger slipped across her smooth bolds to find them wet from something other than the shower. She consider turning the shower off and crawling back into bed with Jon. He would take care of her, and be happy to do so. But she was running low on time, and as attentive as Jon was at times, he was also slow to get her there.

She let her left hand dip between her folds, feeling her warmth as she spread it over her parted lips. "Mmmm, I can be quick." She dropped the loofa to the ground, her right hand cupping her breast roughly, allowing her pointer finger and thump to pinch the engorged pebble.

This sent an immediate thrill to her core, and Wendy let her fingertip tease her entrance. She'd asked Jon in the past to be a little rougher with her, and he tried, bless his heart. But he didn't have it in him. Jon was a kind, gentle lover.

She pinched her nipple harder, feeling the blood rush to it as she dipped her finger inside her sex. She felt her walls closed around her and her eyes fluttered shut. "Mmm yes, right there," she moaned squeezing her chest. God, she wished Jon would treat her like this. A second finger joined the first as she imagined Jon pushing her against the wall. His teeth trailing down her neck, across her collarbone, down the swell of her chest until he took her eraser sized nipple into his mouth.

"Ah, yes. Just like that baby. Fuck me, Jon. Fuck m-"

The image of Jon disappeared, replace by Michael. He had her glued to the wall, his large frame practically swallowing her as he fucked her without a care in the world. Wendy's eyes snapped open, her breathing heavy, her fingers still buried deep inside her as she tried to process what had just happened.

"What the hell is wrong with me?" Wendy hissed, shaking her head as if trying to physically remove the image. Yet even as disgust churned in her stomach, she couldn't deny the confusing heat that spread through her.

She thought back to Jon, to his tongue dancing over her clit. "Mmm yes, baby," she moan slipping her fingers over the sensitive bud. She could practically feel his tongue pushing past her folds, his lips creating a perfect suction on her clit.

Her pace began to quicken. Her fingers slipping back into her wet, hungry pussy then back out. She brough them to her mouth sucking them eagerly into her mouth, tasting her sweetness. Her tongue ran across the length of her digits, imaging it was Jon... his cock. She wished he tasted sweet like this, wished he would have nudged it into her mouth last night despite her protests.

"Ugh yes, baby. Use me, mmmmph, fuck me." She arched her back up from the wall, pulling her fingers from her mouth and slamming them back inside her. Her thumb circled her clit, light flicks that grew harder as her body began to come alive.

The chill of the tile on her back caused her to yelp, her hips driving to match her thrusts. She could feel Jon's hands on her thighs. Holding her in place as he lapped at her juices. "Uggh yes, baby. Don't stop. Don't fucking stop." Her orgasm was nearing, the water beginning to cool as it hit her skin.

Her fingers worked faster, her eyes shut tight as she imagined Jon's tongue boring deeper inside her. But then the fantasy morphed. Jon's gentle grip tightened, his fingers digging into her skin so much it hurt.

"Ffffuuu..." Jon's face was gone now, transformed into Michael's sneer. His thick fingers digging into her flesh, holding her in place with an authority that made her pussy drip with need.

"I knew you were the right choice," phantom-Michael growled against her slick folds, his voice reverberating through her pelvis. "Someone who understands commitment."

"No," Wendy gasped, shaking her head violently, droplets spraying from her wet hair. But even as disgust and shame flooded her consciousness, her fingers moved with renewed urgency, her body betraying her mind.

She forced Jon back into her fantasy, desperately focusing on his lean frame, his tender touches, the way he knew how to hit just the right spot. "Jon," she whispered urgently, pinching her nipple harder, the pain grounding her in reality. "Jon, Jon, Jon..."

Her fingers continued to tweak her nipple, the pain combining with the pleasure building between her legs and sending her body into overdrive.

Wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her, making her legs give out from under her. She slid down the tiled wall, her fingers working feverously inside her pulsing cunt. Goosebumps rose on her skin, as she threw her head backward, her ass splashing in the water underneath her. Her legs quivered in front of her, her belly rolling as the assault continued inside her.

"Ohhhh God. Oh fuck, yes, yes. Uggggh."

"Fuuuck," she sighed pressing the back of her head to the tile, ensuring Michael was the furthest thing from it. she couldn't believe she would think about him during such a moment. She blamed the stress, this was just more proof of how badly she needed this release. She sat on the floor of the shower trying to catch her breath, the sound of the water pulsing against the floor of the tub slowing her racing heart.

Ten minutes later, Wendy stood before her walk-in closet with a heightened sense of scrutiny. Her wet hair dripped down her back as she surveyed the outfits in front of her. Everything had to be perfect today, starting with what she wore.

"Everything okay?" Jon asked, yawning, stretching out his long body. "I could have sworn you were calling me in there." He noticed Wendy's face redden as she considered her choice of attire. _She does too much with her clothes_, he said to himself, his gaze on her heart-shaped bottom as it bounced from left to right deliberating.

"Oh, um... yeah. Thought I was low on shampoo, but I managed," she replied, not looking back at him. "I need today to go smoothly." Her eyes stayed on the green Roland Mouret dress that fell just above her ankles. The color was strong without trying. She held it against her hips, checking out her body in the floor-length mirror.

"Everything you wear looks great."

He wasn't lying. Wendy really was the definition of natural beauty. He still didn't understand how he'd ended up with her. One minute he was crunching statistical oddities for a local brewery while recovering from his breakup, and the next he was having drinks with Wendy, their heads bent together over a baseball betting sheet he'd brought to the bar. She had surprised him once before with challenging his margin estimates, her eyes sparkling with victory when he'd double-checked the math and found that she was right. That was what had first drawn him to her - not just her beauty, but the way she could cut through his careful analysis with quick, intuitive insights that were usually spot-on. Back then, he'd loved how she'd squeeze his arm whenever he corrected their friends' probability estimates, whispering "you're such a nerd" lovingly in his ear.

"Thanks, babe," she said distractedly. She wasn't listening. Instead, she was holding up a cream-colored blouse and comparing it to the dress. A smile crept across her lips as the combination was perfect - elegant and commanding. Her hands automatically smoothed the way the clothing fell, a residual habit from modeling. She'd left it behind, tired of being valued solely for her looks, but she couldn't help but admit the talent it had taught her was priceless. A glance was all it took to tell her exactly how others would react to a garment, what it would say. Today, that message was that she deserved a seat at the table.

She shrugged into the blouse, adjusting the collar as Jon finally emerged from bed. The neckline was respectable enough, though no amount of careful construction could completely conceal her figure. A problem that would haunt her, despite her best efforts.

Jon was a creature of habit in his own closet. His was mundane compared to hers. The same boring colors of black, white, and beige reiterated, and so did the same boring heap of khakis. It was functional, he'd always protest. Time wasted thinking about what to wear was time wasted. Every now and then, Wendy was jealous of its simplicity, the freedom that men had to wear the same thing day in and day out without criticism.

Right on cue, he appeared behind her, already dressed in his standard Oxford and khakis, fumbling with his striped tie. "Here, let me," Wendy offered, turning to face him. Her fingers making quick work of the half Windsor knot as he settled his hands on her waist. She couldn't help but smile at the warmth of his skin against hers. These quiet moments were when everything made sense, when the complications of work and ambition fell away. If only that clarity could follow her to the office.

"Thank you again for last night," he murmured, a slight flush coloring his cheeks. "I'm sorry I couldn't... you know. Last longer."

A smile edged its way around behind Wendy's firmly closed lips, replacing the lingering irritation she'd felt last night. "You enjoyed yourself. That's all that matters." She ran a smoothing hand down his tie, her palm hesitating on his chest. She glanced toward the clock on the nightstand. She was still slightly worked up from her time in the shower. If she had a few more minutes she wouldn't object to pushing him back onto the bed and taking advantage of his guilt, but today she had things to do.

"Still..." He kissed to her forehead. "I'll make it up to you this weekend."

The tenderness of the moment warmed her skin, but Michael's voice echoed in her head - "someone with your instincts" - sending an involuntary shiver down her spine despite Jon's warmth against her. Work wasn't just waiting. Michael was waiting, that damn note probably already framed on his desk.

"Do you think anyone will remember? The gift mix-up?" She turned back to the mirror, grabbing her mascara as an excuse to avoid his gaze. "God, Michael's face when he read that card..."

Wendy's fingers trembled slightly as she applied her mascara, the memory of the event made her stomach flip. The way Michael punctuated every word, the way his expression shifted when his gaze caught hers. She added another coat, steadying her hand, pulling at the collar of her blouse to fan her suddenly overheated face.

"Everyone was half-drunk by then," Jon assured her, already distracted by his phone. "Besides, Michael's probably done something inappropriate to three other people since. No one will even remember."

But Wendy remembered the hunger in Michael's eyes, the way he'd folded that note into his pocket without ever breaking eye contact. She added another coat of mascara, the repetitive motion helping steady her nerves. Power pose, she reminded herself, squaring her shoulders the way she'd practiced in countless casting calls. The irony wasn't lost on her - she'd left modeling to be taken seriously, yet here she was, still performing, still being judged on presentation. Only now the stakes felt higher. This wasn't about looking pretty; it was about looking powerful. About being seen for her mind rather than her measurements, even if Michael's lingering gaze suggested he noticed both.

"Ready?" Jon asked, keys already in hand.

Wendy nodded, grabbing her leather portfolio. "Ready."

***

As Jon and Wendy made their way into the building, they could already feel the shift in the atmosphere from last night. All of the party decorations were discarded, not a trace anywhere in sight. The floors had a high shine to them that suggested the cleaning crew must have put in long hours after the event to ensure nothing looked out of place. Wendy grabbed Jon's hand, taking a deep breath as she prepared to face the whispers and sideways glances of the day.

"Well someone looks like they are in bad bitch mode. What's up with the outfit choice?" Ava's smiling face called out from just behind her cubicle wall. "Did Michael go out and promote you after reading the card?"

Ava's voice was light and playful, but as the words fell from her lips Wendy's stomach tightened and her face went pale. "Fuck, I told Jon this was going to happen. I'm going to be the laughing stock of the office now."

"I was just playing with you." Ava's bright smile disappeared in an instant, as she didn't think Wendy was going to be this upset about it. "Honestly, it wasn't even that bad. Had it been anyone else it could have been laughed off. But of course creepy fucking Michael was the one to open it." She placed a hand on Wendy's arm. "How'd that happen anyway? Did you talk to Jon about it?"

"He doesn't know. Even implied I did it on purpose. Like I want to sleep with Michael or something."

"Tell me you're kidding."

Wendy managed to let out a stiff laugh, while she struggled to hold back tears. "Yeah, but it's Jon, you know. He didn't mean it like that. He was just as confused as I was." She stood up straight allowing the emotions to wash over her. "This is all your fault you know," she said with a laugh turning to look at Ava. "You and your slutty ideas about sexual favors."

Now it was Ava's turn to laugh. "Hey, I told you to be a good wife and give your husband a blowjob. It's not my fault you decided to give it to Michael instead." She took a step closer to Wendy so their playful banter couldn't be heard by others still coming into the office. "I'm actually surprised he didn't greet you at the door this morning expecting you to let him cash it in."

"Have you seen him yet this morning? I want to get whatever's going to happen out of the way so we can move on."

"Michael? No, not yet." She glanced around instinctively. "But this is Michael we're talking about. He's not just going to forget about it."

Wendy didn't get a chance to respond before Jon appeared at her elbow. "I'm going to go fill up my water bottle. Want to come with me?"

"I'd love that," Wendy responded thankful to not be discussing Michael anymore.

The industrial water cooler gurgled as Jon filled two paper cups. "Marcus seemed receptive to my demographic analysis this morning. I really think-"

He stopped in his tracks as a large shadow illuminated on the breakroom wall. Wendy cursed her luck under her breath as she turned to see Michael standing in the frame of the doorway his bulk causing him to turn slightly to fit through the passage. "Hell of a party last night, wasn't it?" He tightened the scarlet and grey tie around his neck, his gaze fixed solely on Wendy.

"Good morning Michael," said Jon friendly, completely missing the fact that Michael hadn't so much as looked at him.

"I was just thinking about you two," Michael continued, making a beeline for the coffee maker. His shirt was more wrinkled than usual, as though he'd slept at the office. "That creative little gift exchange last night set me thinking - did you know that in some jurisdictions, a written promise like that is legally enforceable?"

And there it was. She was a little surprised his comment was as muted as it was. Michael usually was much more direct in his harassment. Her thumb found her wedding ring, spinning it four times around her finger, the soothing habit stealing the seconds she needed to respond. By the time she got herself together, Jon already had stepped in.

"He's right, actually," Jon perked up, interest coloring his tone. "In British Common Law, specifically in cases like Edwards vs. Skyways, the courts have ruled that written agreements, even informal ones, can constitute binding contracts. Fascinating stuff really."

Wendy's face heated up. That was typical Jon, taking things so literally. She often found herself marveling at how someone as smart as him could be so blind when it came to social cues and suggestive innuendos.

Michael's lips grew damp. His eyes darkening as the aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air "See? Your husband understands." His eyes roved over Wendy's clothing slowly enough to make her writhe. "I like the wardrobe choice," he said to her, after he managed to work his way back up to her face. "It screams... commitment."

"Lucky we don't live there," Jon chuckled, giving Wendy a quick kiss on the cheek. "I need to get that market research finished for Marcus. Catch you later?" He was already heading for the door, his mind clearly on work and nothing else.

The silence left by Jon was shattered by the hum of the coffee machine, its steady buzz drowning out the usual office buzz of voices from the corridor. Wendy was aware of the windowless office shrinking with every passing second. The temperature was rising as Michael took a deliberate step forward, allegedly to access the coffee creamer.

"Yes," he murmured, fingers brushing against Wendy's arm for the slightest second. Where Jon's kiss had been butterfly-light, Michael's touch felt like a brand on her skin. "Good thing indeed."

Michael shifted his weight, managing to take up even more space in the small break room. His shoulders seemed to widen as he reached out to take the coffee, cutting off Wendy's path to the door without obviously moving into her path. The coffee machine spat and hissed, the sound oddly threatening in the confined space. Steam rose up between them, carrying the bitter scent of burned coffee that mixed with Michael's stale cigarette breath. She pressed against the counter, heart pounding as the cold metal rim bit into the small of her back.

"I should go," she said, amazed at how steady her voice was despite the sweat pooling at the back of her neck. "Lots of accounts to get through."

"Before you go," Michael stepped closer, and the last vestiges of Jon's innocent kiss were consumed in the suffocating warmth of Michael's nearness. The counter dug deeper into her spine as she fought to maintain the small amount of space that remained between them. His stomach grazed her arm, the unwanted touch causing her skin to crawl beneath layers of fabric. The hum of the coffee machine seemed to increase in volume, creating a sphere in which no one could hear her, no one could rescue her.