For the 12th day in a row, the state was being beaten down by a heat wave. Everyday it had been 95 or higher, and don't forget the stupid humidity making it seem even hotter.
Sitting at my desk at work, I once again let my mind wander to the same daydream I've had for the last two months - me, in my bathing suit on a white sandy beach looking out at the clear blue water, and an icy cold daiquiri in hand, and my guy lounging on the towel next to me, and my mouth waters. Then I feel it, the sweat running down my face, and I'm brought back to my office with the broken A/C and the reminder that I am not on a beach, I don't look good in a bathing suit, the only cold drink I have is water and that's getting warm, and I'm single. Reminding myself that I'm single makes me feel that familiar ache deep within. It's been months since I've had a man touch me.
I shake my head to get rid of the thoughts of that beach and of my non-existent sex life, and wipe away the sweat on my face. I briefly wish I could wipe away the sweat that is forming on other areas of my body. The A/C crapped out on day three of the heat wave, I called and left several messages to maintenance with the building and none have been returned. My boss Damian has been gone on a business trip and luckily hasn't had to deal with the heat, and he's not due back for two more days, when we're finally supposed to dip below 85.
Damian is 37 years old and 6'5" with deep dark brandy colored eyes, thick gorgeous lashes, flawless olive skin, a square-cut jaw. He is normally clean shaven but the handful of times he's come in with some stubble has made me weak in my knees. His hair is midnight black, thick and full, and always looks like he just runs his fingers through it to style it. He's broad-shouldered, athletic and muscular in build. He normally comes to work every morning after having spent two hours in the gym.
He started this consulting business from the ground up all on his own right out of college. I've been his assistant for the last 5 years. For the last 6 months though, I've been considering quitting and looking for work elsewhere. I used to love working for Damian but these last few months he's been miserable and full of pent up anger. Two months ago he had me book him sessions for boxing 4 nights a week after work, and even the extra work out isn't helping keep the anger at bay. He's also been making me stay as late as him and anytime he decides to work on Saturdays, I'm forced to come into work as well - and it's been almost every Saturday for the last 6 months. I can't have a social life or boyfriend if I am living at work.
And I have reason to believe that the reason for his anger and constant need to be at work, has to do with his own relationship; well lack of relationship and sex. His girlfriend Kelli hasn't called daily nagging to talk to him all hours of the day, and he hasn't had me book any weekends away or lunches or dinners for them in just as long, and last Saturday I overheard him have a conversation with one of the guys he plays basketball with. He said something about her being a "lying, cheating whore" that was "traipsing guy after guy into their apartment to blow and fuck". If that's true, I'm not quite sure why she'd cheat on him. He looks like a male model, and up until recently always seemed like a nice guy, he remembered birthdays and anniversaries and holidays the two years they were together, and had even had me find a few jewelry dealers in a 100 miles radius that dealt with special requests. Hell, if I thought I was anywhere near his "type" which over the years seems to be tall, thin, blonde models, and didn't work for him, I'd make a move on him.
It's not that I'm too big or even ugly, I've been told I'm pretty and beautiful by people before. I'm just, not tall or thin or blonde like a model. I'm 26, and had just turned 21 when I got the job with Damien. He was even nice enough to take me out to a work lunch after I was hired to buy me a celebratory meal and drink. I'm 5'5", I have chestnut brown eyes and thick honey colored wavy hair that goes down a couple inches below my shoulders. I'm about a size 14 for clothes, but over the years I've been back and forth between sizes 10-18. I have soft, alabaster skin that is most blemish free except for a few freckles here and there.
I look at the clock and notice is nearly noon, and decide to leave the office for a lunch break and the reprieve of the slight chance of it being cooler outside then in my office. I grab my purse and lock the door and walk down the block to a small cafe. Once there I try order an iced tea and the sandwich and salad combo. I take my time, not wanting to rush back to the office, waiting until the last possible second, and order another iced tea to go.
By 2pm the office is hotter than had been earlier in the day, and it almost felt as though the heat was turned on. By this point, my clothes were nearly drenched in sweat and were sticking to me. I wasn't sure how I was going to make it to 5pm like this. A thought crossed my mind by I pushed the thought away, knowing if I did it and get caught, I could lose my job.
Less than an hour, I wasn't only reconsidering the thought, but was going through it. I walked over to the door and locked it, knowing that no one comes to the office unless Damien is in town and has a meeting scheduled, and then closed the blinds of all the windows. Once back at my desk, I was pulling the zipper down of my maroon and dress. I couldn't believe I was actually removing my clothes at work, but I was desperate for some relief. I draped my dress over the back of the chair next to my desk, leaving myself standing there in only my panties, bra, thigh-high stockings and heels. I quickly pull back my damp hair into a high ponytail to get it off my shoulders. I was already beginning to feel cooler, as I sat back down and got back to work.
Nearing the end of the day, I remember that Damien sent me a recording of some notes that he's taken while on his trip and has asked me to type them up for him and have him ready when he gets back. Since the rest of my work is close to being finished and isn't important, and knowing that writing the notes can take a couple of days, I decide to get started.
I grab my earbuds from my bag and begin typing away, getting lost in his intense, matter-of-fact voice until I am startled by the office door slamming shut. Without thinking I jump up from my seat, forgetting that I'm standing in front of my boss in a steel grey matching lace bra and thong, and black thigh-high stockings and black pumps. I blush and stutter as I try to explain.
"Sir... I... I'm so sorry...," I move my hands to try and cover myself.
"STOP. TALKING." His loud, voice making me feel small. The room seemed to shake.
I feel tears begin to well, and not wanting him to see me crying on top of being practically nude. I step forward to grab my dress but he tells me not to move and I freeze in place, not able to make eye contact or I know I will cry for sure. "Please, Sir. I can explain."
He's silent for a moment and my skin tingles. I look up slightly and see his eyes boring into me.
"You have 90 seconds. Explain. NOW."
It takes a few seconds before I am able to muster up the courage to explain, without bursting into crying.
"Damien, I..."
