Author's note:
This story contains elements including a workplace romance (with inherent power imbalances), maledom spanking and unprotected sex. As with every story I write, it is purely fantasy and not representative of the real world. It's a slower burn, but very, very sexy... I hope you enjoy!
The Executive Suite
Ava was a woman in a man's world. She commanded every room she walked into, striding in like the thrust of a well-aimed blade, sharp and unrelenting, a killing blow. At fifty-four, she carried her five-foot frame with the precision of someone accustomed to wielding absolute power. Her hourglass figure--wrapped in tailored Alexander McQueen pencil skirts and Valentino silk blouses--was an anomaly in the boardrooms of glass and steel she dominated.
"I'm a successful woman in business, I'm a fucking unicorn," she liked to say,. She thought herself a corporate queen, and she looked like one too; her dark brown hair, swept into an immaculate, tight chignon, glimmered under the fluorescent lights of boardrooms like polished mahogany, her heels clacked down corridors as fearful interns sprinted out of the way.
Truth was, she loved being standing out, she loved the attention. She was CEO of Benedict Dynamic Holdings, an industry-spanning conglomerate with interests in finance, tech, healthcare and energy. She was the best of the best and that's why she had been asked by a friend to give the keynote address at an Ethics in Business conference in Rust City. Who better?
The four-day event was being hosted by the Cedar Consulting Group, which was run by one of Ava's many proteges. The original keynote speaker had pulled out due to illness, so she'd been asked to step in, and, ever gracious, she had.
But she hated going on the road. The private plane flight was fine, as was the limo to the conference center, but she hated having to stay anywhere that wasn't her penthouse apartment, her upstate estate or her beachfront villa.
She had less control in a hotel room; her comfort, so painstakingly cultivated in her home or workplace, was suddenly at the whim of uncaring androids being paid minimum wage.
Travelling for work was one thing, but she'd also lost another comfort -- Muriel, her longtime assistant was away on maternity leave. That's fine, it happens -- but Muriel's replacement had come down with Covid just days before the trip. Much more inconvenient. She was already regretting saying yes to the conference, and found herself in a foul mood all day on the Friday she was due to fly out.
Ava travelled light, she didn't keep an entourage; she took her security detail, her publicist, a few tech nerds and Muriel. She didn't trust enough people, and her grumpiness had only gotten worse when she discovered
Muriel's replacement's replacement. Theo, a young man in his mid-20s, was apparently the only person without weekend plans. He jumped at the chance to join her at the last minute. He was to be her stand-in PA; shadow her throughout the conference.
Ava had been given the briefest of briefings, scanned his resume. He'd apparently been with the company eighteen months and worked his way up all the way from junior risk analyst to... risk analyst. Thrilling. From what she was told, Theo had developed a bit of a reputation in the wider company for being 'eye-candy', known for his good-looks rather than his output. A himbo, Jennifer from accounts called him.
The rumors weren't wrong; Theo was insanely good-looking, it had to be said. He looked like a young Paul Newman. Tall, with friendly blue-eyes, sharp cheekbones and a jaw that could cut glass. His hair was the kind you couldn't fake--ash-blond, messy in a way that came natural, like he'd just stepped off a boat or out of trouble. Coils of tight curls effortlessly waving, like a breeze rippling through a field of wheat.
Ava found him boyishly handsome but nothing special. Timid and infuriatingly shy. Bumbling, in a word. Any attempt at small talk on the plane or in the car had resulted in a few mumbled pleasantries and awkward silences. She asked if he had ever been to Rust City before. No, he said. She asked him if he'd ever been to a business conference before. No, he said. Did he have a partner? No, he said. No attempt to elaborate, no reciprocating the question. Curt, blunt answers, as polite as could be, then silence.
"Aren't you at all curious?"
"About what, ma'am?" he'd replied. Ava rolled her eyes.
"Anything at all."
Ava squashed any latent attraction she felt towards him ruthlessly. He wasn't a match for her, just like the rest of them. He was intimidated by her, kept his eyes downcast like he was a schoolboy and she was a fearsome principal on the warpath.
That being said, she'd gotten glowing reviews from his supervisors. Those who he worked with directly had said he was more than just eye-candy, he was a capable team member. Gladys, BDH's HR boss and the woman who had saddled Theo on her, had said yes he was a little quiet but he was diligent, punctual and met just about every KPI that was set for him. When he did speak up, he could be sharp, quick-witted, funny even -- with a wry, dry sense of humor. Apparently, that was.
Ava hadn't seen any evidence of that by the time she was stumbling, drunk, back to her room after the conference finished for the night. She was too old to do coke in the bathrooms and too self-respecting to linger for too long, given her speech had underwhelmed that stodgy audience. Oh they'd laughed when she'd made a joke, clapped when necessary, but what else were they to do when she, Ava Benedict, spoke? She had seen a couple on their phones, others yawning, some checking their watches. If she had been a man, they would have been listening with rapt attention. Damn conference was a sausage party.
The afterparty following the main event was worse. Two hours of mingling, drunken dancing and finger food. It was a feeling that coalesced only in the past decade or so, but Ava hated networking. She'd grown tired of forcing smiles and empty platitudes upon undeserving cretins. She had thought she was beyond that nonsense; Laughing at terrible jokes made by terrible people. No, worse than terrible - boring people. Bores, the lot of them.
There was Mullins, the sycophant, Brady the lech and that idiot Susanne Llewyn. She had to drink just to stand them. And when she drank her words, usually razor-sharp and precise, softened around the edges.
Multiple times throughout the night she caught herself using phrases she hadn't said in years-- risible remarks like "I'd love to hear more, you've just
got
to put this in an email" or "oh, but isn't it
delightful
" or even - Ava shivered - "well done, good for you". She hated how foreign such refrains sounded in her own voice.
She preferred to be a mystery, the business woman in the perfect pantsuit who sometimes appears on the cover of New York Magazine or was the subject of a glowing piece in Forbes. She didn't like having to drag herself down to the level of these imbeciles. It was degrading, humiliating. They didn't deserve to kiss the ground she walked on.
She had no desire to follow the more intoxicated members to a sleazy nightclub when the hotel bar closed at one. Handsome Theo helped her back to her room after her heel broke in the elevator. He was dutiful enough, hands respectfully placed, even as she held him tighter than she needed and pressed her chest needlessly against his arm. She smirked at his blushes as his bicep slid into her cleavage. Truth be told, she wouldn't have minded if he'd been a bit more handsy. Did that make her bad?
When they got back to her room, the warmth of whiskey still lingered on Ava's tongue, its sweetness cutting through the dry taste of hours spent talking nonsense with nobodies. It was necessary though; people let their guards down when the liquor started flowing. As much as she had begrudgingly endured it, the afterparty was the main event, but tonight Ava found herself over it. She was tired of it all. She used to think of an afterparty like a chess match, a game, but nobody interesting had turned up to the conference except her. She'd have to make her own entertainment.
Ava stepped into the hotel room, the faint hum of the air conditioning the only sound breaking the silence. The room, a blend of dull, modernist chrome and beige, was too sterile for her liking. It was supposed to be the lap of luxury, but it smelt dry and old. The lights from the real urban jungle outside cast long shadows on the walls, giving the space a empty, uninviting feel; like something from a dystopian sci fi film, far from the warmth of her penthouse office. Supposedly, this was the hotel's Executive Suite.
Ava almost jumped when Theo switched on the light. It was just like every other hotel room; clean, cold and with the world's most mediocre artwork slapped on the walls without a second thought. A painting of a cityscape, in a city -- what a bold, daring choice. The colors weren't exactly inspiring either, nor were the buildings much more than grey and black boxes, pockmarked with yellow windows. Art was meant to evoke meaning wasn't it? Perhaps the meaning came from being trapped staring at this unremarkable, impersonal city. It seemed to say: 'Why are you looking at me? There's a
real
city out there, you know. Turn around, go outside,
explore
.'
She caught her reflection in the mirror. She looked good for her age, hours in the gym with her PT paying off. Fit, firm and curvy. She certainly looked better than her sister did despite being three years older, the benefit of not having three kids.
