"Good morning, Miss Davenshaw."
She halted in her stride momentarily. She was somehow aware of her nipples tingling under her bra, and of what could only be described as a faint tingling between her perfectly toned legs. Her breath caught;
"Uh...good morning, Edmund," she replied.
The faint quiver in her normally confident, authoritative voice would have been missed by most but he was glad to detect this ever so subtle sign that the hypnosis still had an effect on her. This was a deeper set, more long term effect besides the short term effect of last night. Edmund couldn't help grinning at the memory of that, a memory that was, for now of course, denied to his beautiful boss.
Miss Davenshaw meanwhile tried to reconcile the annoyance of his smirk with the fact that she was, somehow, and despite herself, aroused by the sound of his voice. The possibility that he might even be aware of this effect that he was having on her only irritated her further. She resolved to give nothing way. She'd been involved in high level business negotiations for longer than many would have thought possible for a woman in her mid-thirties. This was no different. She decided to reassert herself;
"Edmund, have the report for the forthcoming trip to Zurich on my desk by noon if you would."
Her tone made it clear who the boss was.
"Of course, Miss Davenshaw."
Satisfied that she had received the professional respect that was her due, she regained her composure and strode off. Edmund watched in admiration as her heels clipped their way tersely across the thin carpet, her pert behind evident yet perfectly respectable in her sharp knee length skirt. He stirred at the memory of last night. Miss Davenshaw would be the best prize yet.
"Of course Miss Davenshaw."
She was of course aware of his eyes behind her. She was so used to admiring looks from men as she passed them and left them for dead that sometimes it barely registered. This time, however, she was very conscious of his gaze. Normally, she would have turned around and shot him a cool glance, a common tactic she used for deterring predators or competition in this cut throat jungle of London's financial district. But this time, she didn't. His voice seemed somehow to be permeating her mind, getting inside her head, putting her off. What was going on? Almost imperceptibly she quickened her pace just a little.
She tried to use the morning's business to focus herself. A few phone calls, an email, a couple of incompetent subordinates in need of a dressing down. But no matter how busy she made herself she found her eyes being drawn more and more frequently to the clock, and for midday. She didn't want to admit, not even to herself, that Edmund was beginning to have an effect on her. He'd been with the company just six months and though he seemed reasonably ok and competent she didn't see him as particularly head turning. He was a bit quiet, nobody too remarkable. So...why?
**************************************************
She shook her head, snap out of it, focus! What? It was gone 12 already. He's here. I sense his voice. She must wear what!? Yes, Master I am your slave. Who does he think he is? Yes, I will only be aware when Master tells me to snap out of it...
**************************************************
"With respect, snap out of it, Miss Davenshaw."
It wasn't the insubordinate tone that shocked her. As a woman at the top in this male heavy, aggressive world, she'd learned to deal with that pretty effectively. What shocked her was that she was wearing somewhat different clothes to the ones she'd come to work in. Gone was the sharp power suit and high heeled business shoes. They had been replaced by a tight leather jacket that barely covered her chest. A peephole bra offered scant protection to her thrust out breasts while the skirt she now wore was considerably more mini and significantly tighter than the one she'd worn this morning. Knee high, high heeled boots completed the picture.
"Oh my god, I look like a slut."
But that was not the worst of it. She was standing at the head of the table. Addressing the senior staff! She was uncomfortably aware of their leering grins. The sleazy thoughts of the eight men around the table were evident on their lecherous faces. Edmund, Luis, Daniel all looking at her, not as their boss, but as a piece of flesh. The professional respect that she'd fought so hard to get from them was, of course, nowhere to be seen. They looked at her exactly in the same way they must look at those strippers, call girls, and other professional (and not so professional) women that she frequently overheard them talk about.
"I...I...er...", she began to flush.
She felt so helpless, so exposed in front of these men. For once, they sensed weakness. Her normally rock solid confidence was beginning to totter in the same way that her whole body was beginning to totter in those ridiculously high heeled, fuck me, slut boots. She could see Luis, the worst of them, literally lick his lips in sleazy anticipation. She sensed water forming in her normally ice cool blue eyes.
Oddly enough, Edmund came to the rescue.
"Well, it's clear that none of our minds are completely focused on the Zurich trip right now," he said with somewhat sardonic understatement. "Shall we reconvene again at 4?"
Gratefully, she took the lifeline offered her. Mustering what composure and confidence she could, she pathetically pulled the leather jacket around her, awkwardly adjusted the tight leather skirt and sashayed ridiculously out of the room. The heels seemed to cause her breasts to bounce and her behind to wriggle provocatively. To make things worse she had to run the gauntlet of the whole of the long table to leave the room. As she left the room, low wolf whistles were replaced by increasingly loud laughter. Looking back through the transparent windows of the conference room she could see them all laughing and talking. She couldn't help noticing that many of them were coming up to Edmund, shaking his hand, slapping him on the back..
Back in the office, she allowed herself a few sobs but quickly composed herself as she heard May, her PA enter the office. It was obvious that May knew what had happened. The mixture of awkwardness and disappointment that her assistant felt was obvious on her face. She'd always admired her boss for the way she'd risen to the top and looked after herself in this testosterone charged world. How could she cheapen, degrade and humiliate herself in front of them like this? This was more than just some wardrobe malfunction.
"Can I get you anything, Miss Davenshaw.?"
"No, no thanks May." Miss Davenshaw pretended to be looking in a file, anything to avoid eye contact. "Could you give me a minute?"
Miss Davenshaw had noticed that her tears had a reddish tinge to them. Looking in her mirror she could see that her fine face had been marred by too much rouge and eyeliner while bright red lipstick seemed to scream 'blow job' to anyone who looked at her mouth. This fresh revelation caused anger, no fury, to well up within her where it merged with an equally strong feeling of humiliation and a catastrophic loss of confidence. Trapped in a moment of helpless indecision she raged around the point that much as she yearned to do something about this, she seemed, for the first time in a very long time, to lack the confidence to do it. Nevertheless, although she had just been humiliated, she had not been broken. She would find out and get payment for this. Her eyes welled but the tears broke against the wall of her inner strength.
After an hour of frustration and torment, she received a message from Edmund. The email read,
"Coming up to your office now."
Quite a presumptious way to address your CEO! But, after this morning's events, it was, she painfully acknowledged, somewhat inevitable. Hmm, Edmund. He was the last person she saw before that humiliating meeting, wasn't he? It was clear something was not right, and she had a feeling it was something to do with him.
As she waited for him, she realised to her horror that she had not yet changed back into her normal clothes! How the hell had she forgotten to do that? She didn't even want to think about the possible answers to that question. In horror, she realised she would look ridiculous confronting him like this. Meanwhile, she juggled the ferocious instinct to kill him on the spot with the need to find out what had happened to her. What he had, she was sure of this now, somehow done to her. She had even considered trying to remain calm in the interests of finding out the latter but when he just swaggered into her office without even knocking, as if he owned the place, her fury got the better of her.
The slap was hard and took him by surprise.
The second slap was less surprising but was even harder.
"You bastard what have you done? I know it's you!"
The anger and strength in her blue eyes was beautiful. To capture it, to harness it would be worth a million such slaps. He stared back into those eyes with their incredible mix of female power and vulnerability.
"You know what's me?"
"Don't give me that bullshit. You're fired you understand. Fired!"
"You can't fire me."
