An Office Slave

THURSDAY

I lay there with my cheek pressed to Amelia's forehead. I did not want to get up to face the day -- with the reality of what Hardy and I had started, Richard's punishing sex the night before, and worst of all, the greedy pleasure I took from it.

But I was not going to give in to analysing the two personalities of my husband and my perverted enjoyment of my bondage anymore when I had my baby cuddled against me. I gathered her close and I played with her blond curls. I traced the shape of her chubby cheeks and inhaled her baby scent.

But still, I poked and prodded at my memory of last night, and my blood stirred in unbidden arousal. I clamped my thighs together. That was my Hardy last night, wasn't it? But it was not. It was Richard, wasn't it? But it was not. Was I being unfaithful then?

Fool, I thought to myself. And I stood up to face a day that was heavy with possibilities, shame, guilt, and a furtive happiness. Was this the way adultery really felt? It had not felt like this the last time.

I took my shower, and patted my body dry, remembering how he pressed me against the wall, and forced me to submit to his fingers. I dressed carefully, picking my undies with such care, remembering how he dragged my panties down before he took me as I was helplessly bent over the couch. I felt my wrists, my arms, trying to relive the taut feeling of my bondage.

My body felt different to me. Everything felt different, even that secret place inside my deepest self that I had always kept safe from everyone, even from Hardy. That perfect place that was home to the perfect girl that was me. Somehow, I felt a bit broken by Richard's usage of me last night. But through that little crack, I felt that perfect person peer out of her shell, and feel . . . why.. she was feeling a little, liberated, maybe.

I had been that girl, trying so hard to be perfect -- the perfect daughter, the perfect student, then the perfect wife. But no. . . not perfect after all. There was that one time, when, oh God . . . and now . . . No, not perfect at all.

Mariella had not arrived yet. As I went through the preparations of making my breakfast and Amelia's, my mobile phone rang. Caller ID said 'Office', and I cautiously said, 'Hello?'

'Neen?' Amazing how accusation, hurt and worry could all be packed into my name.

'Good morning, Hardy.' I said, all perfect poise and courtesy, myself.

'Why didn't you tell me you weren't feeling well yesterday?'

'It was nothing. I was just hungry, that's all.'

'Right.' Uncertainty. 'Are you okay?'

'Yes, I am. Truly. I'll be at the office soon.'

'No. You don't have to be here until noon. The three musketeers will practice their presentations to you after lunch. You can gather all their notes then. Have a rest. And for God's sake, eat a good breakfast! And don't worry about lunch. There'll be food up here. So, will you be here at noon?'

I smiled at all the emotions I heard in his voice smashing over each other like waves.

'Yes, Hardy.' I said. I could hear him start to speak again but I had had enough of the call, and so I gently hung up on Mr Richard Hardington Hunt.

'Daddy phone Mummy?'

Amelia climbed the kitchen bar stool with Turtle. Instead of answering, I wrapped my arms around her and kissed her, tickling her and making farting noises in her neck. She laughed and squirmed in the chair. I started measuring flour, while she and Turtle entertained me.

'Daddy tickle me too,' she informed me after a song and dance from the green toy. 'Tickle, tickle, tickle, he said. We had bwekky. I said, Mummy wake up now, Daddy? He said no, 'Melia, Mummy happy in dweamland. Can I go dweamland too, Mummy?'

'Someday, you'll know that you go to dreamland too. And, are you talking about this morning, sweetheart?'

'Uhuh, dis mawning. We had bwekky, then we bwush our teethies, then I said, Daddy, I sleepy 'gain, can I sleep in Mummy bed. Daddy said, yes, 'Melia, Mummy happy when 'Melia sleep in Mummy bed. Daddy sing song, lalala. Then I sleepy, and he put me 'side Mummy. He said, shh, shh, 'Melia. Then he kiss 'Melia like dis.' She kissed Turtle on the forehead. 'Then Daddy kiss Mummy like dis.' She kissed Turtle on the lips.

I see. I smiled at her fully, because my heart felt suddenly close to bursting.

'Mummy happy, Mummy?' My baby patted Turtles cheek.

'Yes, sweetheart.' I said. 'Pancake for 'Melia's second bwekky?' I crowed. And she clapped her hands and laughed.

I played with Amelia for about an hour in the pool Hardy had built for her the year before. I explored my strength, and decided that yesterday's weakness had passed. I've always had low blood pressure, and I find that going without food for even a few hours could make me dizzy.

I was in a rush to get to work yesterday, knowing that Richard was returning from New York. So I missed breakfast, and all I had to eat was a thin egg sandwich at lunch time. Then he put me through all that shock last night. And that tremendous orgasm. No wonder I caved in. Today, if I was to survive any more of Richard's ridiculous antics, I would have to eat something at least every hour.

Mariella arrived at about ten o'clock when I was getting ready for work.

She entered my bedroom like a volcano about to explode.

'Que? Que? What ees theez? I hear you no eat again?' She shook her finger at me as I carefully outlined my lips in a wine-coloured lip liner. 'Dios mio, hija! What are dey doing to you in that beezneez?'

'I'm okay, Mariella. Really, and I had a good breakfast this morning – eggs, sausages and pancake, just like you make it too. Stop worrying about me.'

'You no want me to worrry?' She said, her voice rising in her concern, her great chest heaving and her rs rolling. 'I don't beleev theez, Mz Nina? You no want me to worry? Mr Richard bring you home last night like you so dead? You so white in yorr face?'

Amelia had come running just in time to hear the end of Mariella's tirade. She looked at me wide-eyed, then back at Mariella. Then back at me pointing at my face and scolded me in her baby voice.

'Yeah, Mummy, you so white in yo' face!' She pointed then to Mariella. 'And you so red in yo' face, 'Ella. What colo' my face, 'Ella? What colo' 'Melia face?'

Mariella and I looked at each other.

'Now look what you've started, Mariella.' I said. And we both burst out laughing. Amelia stared at us for a second, not understanding what was funny, and then laughed with us anyway.

I shared a cup of coffee with Mariella. She forgave me for fainting and for causing her to worry. And at 11.00, I kissed them both goodbye and drove to work.

First up, when I got to Hunter, was my lunch meeting with Richard's three musketeers, as we called them – Sam, Eve, and Meredith. They were his war generals in the business, his right hand men – err, man and women.

When I came to the office last Monday, as Hardy asked, or rather, ordered, I found that I was, indeed, expected. He had informed all staff that I was going to assist in next week's Investors' Conference.

When I first started to make my frequent appearances at work after I married Hardy, I had been sure they would treat me with wariness, being once one of them but now risen in rank because I married the boss. On the contrary, they're acceptance of me had not changed, for which I was intensely thankful.

Today, when I arrived, Sam greeted me with enthusiastic praise for my writing of the overall summary, the very one Richard had not been very impressed with. Was his criticism of my draft summary a part of play-acting then?

Sam more than made up for Richard's rudeness, exclaiming over the fact that I had read all the figures, preliminary presentations, and white papers only 24 hours before I started the draft. He then proclaimed me the fourth musketeer, which I'm sure was the highest compliment he could give me.

The food came. Richard had outdone himself with the luncheon. He had a light lunch catered for everyone every Friday, but today, Thursday, there was lunch brought into the small conference room for the four of us.

We sat down around the corner eating table to ready servings of Greek salad, salmon poached in olive oil and olives and broccoli, and a lamb dish with a dish of yoghurt on the side.

After a short spell of silence where we ate through three courses in record time, the conversation picked up when we started to eat dessert -- strawberries in cream and honey.

I looked around me while I enjoyed the flow of honey in my mouth.

Sam Weissman was a 28 year old, handsome young man, and extreme intelligent. An economics major from Yale, he was a guru with numbers. He was born rich, but seemingly unspoilt by all the advantages with which he had been born. And he had that cocky, self assured, little boy charm that I found myself warming to again and again.

Eva, well, Eva was a psychologist and a genius in predicting the responses of people to certain variables in the market. You could say she was a marketing psychologist. She was also a blond bombshell, one size smaller than me, and wore business clothes one size smaller than her perfect frame. The effect was certainly distracting to say the least. But I have never seen Richard take up the offer. Not that she was offering anything to Richard. She had eyes only for Sam.

Meredith was our geek, our IT engineer. She was responsible for designing much of the robotics involved in Hunter technology. She was a genius, hands down. She was also geek through and through – geek glasses, hundreds of apps in her mobile, and a ruthless gamer. I never saw her in corporate clothes, but she did say she would come to the conference in dress pants. She came to work in jeans and t-shirt. Now she had a t-shirt that simmered with a setting sun and the words HALO across the front. She told me once it was her favorite X-box game. She also told me I was a dead ringer for the girl hero in it, a girl called Cortana, some kind of artificial intelligence girlfriend of the Master Chief or some such person. I remember asking her, 'Who? What's a master chef doing in a video game?' And Meredith had looked at me with pity.

'That was great.' Sam sighed, as he stretched back to pat his stomach. 'And I think we have you to thank, Nina, for this corporate lunch that broke all records.'

'Me?' I asked, surprised.

Meredith looked at me. 'Oh yes, she doesn't know.' She spooned a strawberry into her mouth. 'Mmmm. Well, Bossman came in this morning looking like thunder about something. Then I heard him on the phone to your housekeeper. I'm thinking your housekeeper was giving him an earful, something about you fainting last night when you got home. He was giving as good as he was getting though. Funny that, Bossman fighting with your housekeeper. I'd love to meet that woman, one day, Nina. Anyway, he said something like, 'Well if you can't feed her there, I'll feed her here myself, or something like that. And that's the story of this lunch.' Everyone started chuckling.

I felt my face flushing which Eva noted with interest. 'Umm, Nina, you're not, umm, you know?' She patted her own tummy.

'You know, what?' Sam asked in ignorance.

'Sam, don't be dim-witted. Pregnant, I mean,' Eva said, which made me flush some more.

'No, I am not.' I said with emphasis. I stood up and walked to the conference table, turned the projector on, and my powerpoint presentation covered the opposite wall. I shuffled through papers to hide my sudden anxiety, and I called to the three over my shoulder.

'Team, our excessive lunch plus gossip ends right now. Move your heavy bums to this here table and get this meeting on the road. Eve, you start with a market projection and socio-economic implications. Meredith, you follow with all your engineering details. And you being the only darling male here, Sam, you get to finish with all the numbers to show how much money all the investors in the room will expect to earn from this new Hunter product.'

Hunter Innovations was developing advance fuel cell technology to power cars. Up until now, fuel cells have had two successful applications: for stationary installations and for small portable uses.

Now, Hunter had successfully tried and tested a third fuel cell design that could run a car for 100 hours. It was expensive to make, but in the long run, cheaper than gasoline. We were now presenting all the findings to investors who were interested in financing the next stage: manufacturing the first 5,000 cells for mass testing.

My job today, was to listen to all their reports and put them altogether into one cohesive presentation, including the 30-page introduction and summary which Sam had praised – and the very one Richard had used as a prop to turn me into his ... office slave.

Everyone was brilliant. And in case Richard was not play-acting when he said I didn't fully understand the economics of energy, I applied myself to understand everything, every number, even the fine points of the engineering design. I caught on quickly.

For two hours, I took copious notes, wrote comments on everyone's drafts, designed charts and tables to be inserted into powerpoint slides.

I couldn't help but be impressed. If all went well, Hunter Innovations was going to be a leader in the race to produce cheap and clean energy for the world. It was exhilarating to be a part of it all.

We stood up at two o'clock. The three musketeers looked drained. They had been working nearly all night long, actually for two whole weeks now. But now their job was done for now. Richard had given them the rest of the day off today and the whole day tomorrow, Friday, but they had to come back to work on the Sunday afternoon to prepare for the conference next week.

Eve called out to me just as I entered my little office next to hers. 'Oh, I forgot, Nina. Richard asked me to tell you to go straight up to the Penthouse and finish up there. He'll join you at around six o'clock after his meeting with Tony.' Tony Carlingford was the scientist behind the new Hunter fuel cell. 'Oh, and he said he left a tray of sandwiches and fruit in the fridge for a snack.'

She smirked. 'You sure you're not pregnant?'

I shooed her away and she went laughing with glee.

I went straight up with a trolley laden with all the papers, computer disks and usb sticks I needed.

I took a deep breath before I stepped out of the lift. I would have to get into my role. I guess it's as simple as changing clothes.

So I am now Nina, not Neen. I am a Consultant at Hunter Innovations, employed here, but the threat of being fired hanging over my head. I am a mistress. No, not even that. He said I am an office slave. Yes that, not a wife, not even a mistress, beloved or not.

In contrast to my feeling of anticipation this morning, a dark wing of guilt now enveloped me, fanning me with self-disgust and resentment toward Hardy. How dare he? How dare he treat me, his wife, like this? Where was the honour he promised me, the gentleness he had shown me for the last five years? Was this how he really saw me? A body to be used?

I went straight to one of the desks in the corner, not bothering to look at anything else in the room, trying to block out the memories of last night. I entered into this agreement with Hardy expecting a light office romance. How naïve, I thought sourly. It might have been what Hardy would get into, something light and flirty, but this was not Hardy. This was Richard, a man I had never before encountered up close, but who was still very much my husband, and then again, who was not.

Again, I did not want to analyse it just yet. Maybe later, when my mind could separate all these marriage and sex issues from the tangle they were in now, as easy as I could analyse business concepts.

I dismissed all thoughts of Richard and Hardy then, and worked non-stop, as was my habit. I had always derived comfort and stability from concentrating on work, and I happily got lost in the convoluted maze of statistics and reports.

When I finally finished at 5.30, I had powerpoint presentations for Richard, Sam, Eve and Meredith all very nearly completed. All their notes, all the points, all the figures they wanted to emphasize were there in impressive graphs. The slides were alive with the future of the new battery cell and the intelligence of Richard Hunt and his three musketeers. I knew it to be one of the best works I ever did. And I knew the investors would love it.

I turned on the TV to wait for Richard, but turned it off again. I walked around the huge office, and stopped in front of the painting of the woman on the ground. I studied the painter's name: Wyeth. A Wyeth. I didn't know much about art, but I knew that name. A Wyeth was worth millions. Hardy's father, Dad William Hunt, was a lover of art, and went to great lengths to borrow famous paintings and have them in the Penthouse for a certain number of weeks. This must be one of them.

I also noted the changes in the room that I missed when I came in. Richard must have made the change just this morning. There was a fern plant hanging over the space beside the painting, over that spot where he had trapped me nearly naked and ravished me with his finger.

I fell asleep on that couch where he had me writhing in delight 24 hours ago. When I awoke, half an hour later, he still wasn't there, and I fidgeted around the office. That's when my mind began working, and analysing our role-play. Hardy and Neen. Richard and Nina. Wife. Mother. Employee. Office mistress. Office slave. Office slave. Office slave...

He came up at about half past six. I was in front of the painting again, staring at it but seeing only the two of us, there pressed on the wall, him bent over me, and me, playing the slut.

I heard his footsteps coming up behind me, and I turned to face him, my eyes wet, nerves stretched to breaking point.

He started to speak but I slapped him, my palm straight and true, turning his cheek instantly red. His head jerked back but when he righted himself to look at me,I lifted my hand to hit him again, but he caught my wrists and held them prisoner under my chin.

'Do you want out then?' He said, his voice low and hoarse.

'Yes, you bastard.' I hissed. 'You said you wanted a mistress. You never said anything about treating me like a whore!'

'Mistress. Whore. Slave.' He said, his eyes so dark and hard, roaming my face. 'What's the difference, Neen?'

'I am your wife, damn it!' I said, my voice hitching. I could not be brave in front of this stranger before me. I struggled to free my wrists.

'Hardy's maybe. But not mine.' He said, cruelly, tightening his hold of my hands.

'We had a deal, Nina. One week, remember?' He tipped my chin up, and pressed his lips on the tears on my cheek. I felt his hardness nudge me. His mouth travelled down my neck below my ear, where nerves there zapped awareness all the way down to my pussy. My body bucked forward, answering the summoning of his.

'Hardy!' I scolded, my will power all but evaporating like my tears.

'Richard.' He admonished me. And he bent down and nipped my chin. I shivered. His mouth went down the side of my neck, sucking and biting gently. He abruptly released me and I lost my balance, clutching at his shoulders for support. I felt him unbutton my blouse, and he quickly slipped them down my arms. My bra went as well. Then my skirt. He slapped my hands away as I tried to stop him. Then my panties were dragged down as well.

He folded me in his arms tightly, a hand on my breast, claiming possession. 'You want him back? You want Hardy back?' He said, his voice rough, as though in some pain.

'Yes.' I moaned, as he pushed my hair aside so he could suck at the skin under my ear. His fingers captured a nipple and squeezed, making me bend backwords, wordlessly offering more.