Lissa “So, this is the standard matter view, with the name, lawyer, and partner assigned to it, and the description of the case,” Adelaide says as she sits beside me at my desk, showing me the ins and outs of the software. Thankfully, it’s a lot less complicated than the dental practice’s system and far more intuitive. Even after ten minutes of her showing it to me, it’s beginning to jog my memory about my role as a PA many years ago. I’m confident I can get the hang of it pretty quickly. We scroll through the different screens as she explains the hierarchy of the team that works with Oliver. He has fifteen lawyers under him, including four senior lawyers, all of whom work on this floor. “Is there a reason why this floor isn’t open-plan like the others?” I ask as she glances at me with a little smile. “That’s Mr. Heath’s preference. He likes to give people space to work without interruption. He’s always hated open-plan spaces and insisted on ke eping the original design of this floor when they bought this building. They fought him on it, but he wouldn’t budge, and at the time, he was bringing in a lot of money for the firm.” “Is he not anymore?” “You wouldn’t think so with the length of time it’s taken them to make him an equity partner. He should have been at that level already, but it’s a boy’s club, and Mr. Heath doesn’t play the game the way they want him to. He refuses to be drawn into their little Band of Brothers movement, and ke eps insisting on ridiculous things, like hiring a woman as a senior partner.” I snort, laughing at her tone. “Women get shit done,” I say, automatically quoting something Bethany and I have spouted to one another for years. I shut my mouth quickly, worried that I shouldn’t have cursed in front of Adelaide, until she smiles at me. “You’re fucking right, we do.” She rises, sliding some folders toward me, and I get back to work. Once she’s seated at her desk, I discreetly scroll to Oliver’s information on the system. He’s worked for AGS for over ten years and my eyes almost bug out of my head when I see his hourly rate. $2,500. Who has that kind of money? “You said you worked in legal before, right?” Adelaide asks. “You seem to know your way around things already. The work you did yesterday was excellent, by the way, it saved me a lot of hassle this morning.” “Oh. Thanks. Yeah, I also took some pre-law classes in college, so I guess that helps.” She leans around her monitor. “You did?” “Until I was twenty, then I got pregnant and...” James told me to quit. “I couldn’t really continue.” “Well, it shows. You understand how things should be organized. Plus, you tabbed all the relevant sections in the folders without me even having to ask you to.” “Were they right? I was worried I might have misread some of it.” “They were perfect.” I nod, ridiculously pleased that I’ve helped even in a small way. When I was working under Francesca at the dental practice, I only ever heard from her when I did something wrong. Damn, I do not miss that place. It’s nice to know I’ve made a positive change for once. We continue working opposite one another for the rest of the day. The office is still quiet, but there are more people milling around today than yesterday. Several people have come up to speak to Adelaide about cases that Oliver is working on. Almost no one knocks on his door, though.
I get the feeling people avoid him. He does seem kind of terrifying at first. Maybe some people never get past that first impression. Early in the afternoon, when I get back from lunch, I don’t realize Oliver isn’t in his office until he appears in the hallway, speaking to one of the partners. They have a low, hurried discussion as Oliver types something out on his phone. He has on a charcoal gray suit, a white crisp shirt, and a de ep midnight navy tie with a subtle tonal texture. The suit fits him like a glove, and I wonder where he bought it from—there’s no way a suit off the rack would fit him. “Thanks, Ruth, that’s great,” he says, putting the phone to his ear. He passes my desk, the first time I’ve seen him since our encounter yesterday, but he doesn’t glance at me, doesn’t even acknowledge my existence. I don’t look directly at him, scared that everything we did yesterday will be written all over my face. He stops at Adelaide’s desk, and she hands him his mail before he goes into his office and shuts the door. I’m not sure if I’m grateful or disappointed that he didn’t even look in my direction. I start to feel more anxious. Is he bored with me already? Why didn’t he even glance in my direction? I’m still mulling these thoughts over while I work through the remainder of the folders. We don’t have to send them off for a couple of days, and I’m pretty sure I’m ahead of schedule. Adelaide tells me r epeatedly how good my work is, which continues to brighten my day. I really like it here. The atmosphere is calming, and the work isn’t stressful. It’s the first job I’ve had where I feel like I belong, right from the start. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” Adelaide says, pulling on a long purple coat from behind her chair and a lilac scarf. Even her phone case is purple. “See you tomorrow,” I say. “Thanks for your help today. You know that you can leave right at six, yes? Don’t feel you have to stay late.” “Oh, I won’t. Thanks, Adelaide.” “Good. You should consider going back to school and becoming a lawyer,” she says suddenly, her light green eyes looking at me curiously. “You’re very bright. And you’re young. Plenty of time to finish.” I smile faintly. “Thank you, I haven’t really thought about it in a while.” “Well, you should. You’d make a great lawyer. You have the right temperament for it, too.” “Thanks, Adelaide, I appreciate it. Have a nice night.” She gives me the first warm smile we’ve exchanged. It’s only day two, but it already feels as if her barriers are dropping. I hear the elevator ding after a minute, and she gets on. Three seconds later, the little green light on my desk lights up. Chewing my lip, I rise immediately, checking my makeup on my phone. I quickly swipe on a little lip gloss. Will he kiss me? Can I touch him today? Questions rush through my head as I tug at my jacket and head to the office door, walking in without knocking. Oliver is sitting behind his desk, signing something as I enter, and he looks up at me, his dark eyes tracking me across the room as I come to stand in front of the desk.
“Would you have any objection to taking your clothes off right away?” he asks immediately. “Uh...” “I like looking at you,” he adds, and an embarrassing flush rushes to my cheeks. “Yes, that’s fine.” “Whenever you’re ready, then.” The lack of small talk is a little disorienting, but I rally quickly. This is what I’m here for after all, and if I want to ke ep the money rolling in, all I have to do is remember to follow his lead. I carefully remove my clothes, piling them on top of my shoes as I did before. “There’s a table,” he says quietly, pointing his pen to a small cabinet that wasn’t there yesterday. “You can put everything on top of it. I don’t want you to put your clothes on the floor again.” “I’m sorry,” I stammer, putting my jacket on the surface and picking up my shoes. “Lissa.” I turn back to him, feeling foolish. “I should clarify—I don’t want your clothes on the floor because you shouldn’t have to scramble around for them afterward. This is your space as much as it is mine during this hour of the day. I added the table for your convenience. But you didn’t do anything wrong.” I breathe out, annoyed that he felt the need to clarify that and that I’m such a mess at the thought of displeasing him. It’s ridiculous to feel so hurt that I made a mistake, but I do. I undress, the same shame and worry pulsing through me as I turn, a hand coming up to cover myself, scratching awkwardly at my arm. I wish I had a robe or something. Oliver looks so put-together and formal behind the desk, and I feel totally exposed. He looks up at me, frowning at my arm, and I lower it, clenching my fingers into a fist self-consciously. “Would you untie your hair?” he asks. I tug at the tie at the base of my ponytail and shake it out. It’s always been naturally wavy and tumbles over my shoulders. “Mm, lovely,” he says, his eyes glinting. “Come over here.” I move toward the desk as he rises and comes around to lean against it, looking at my body for a long time without speaking. I try very hard not to fidget, but it’s the most thorough appraisal anyone has ever done of my body, and I can feel how hot my neck is from blushing. “Do I embarrass you?” he asks, and I don’t know what to say in response. Yes, would be my resounding answer, but I don’t want to insult him. “I asked you a question, Lissa.” I clear my throat. “A little,” I say, squaring my shoulders. “You have nothing to be embarrassed about. You’re utterly flawless.” I can’t help the little snort that breaks free, but I try to smother it. “You really don’t think so?” he asks, his eyes hardening slightly. Does he actually look offended? “You are beautiful, and you should be kinder to yourself.” My throat constricts at the sincerity in those words. No one has ever called me beautiful before, or if James ever did, I’ve forgotten. Bethany does all the time, of course, but it’s not the same. I meet his gaze, my lips twisting. “I’ll try.” “Good girl.” I huff out a breath of relief, and Oliver’s whole body stiffens, his lips curving up into that ghost of a smile I saw before. “There are several objects around the room for us to play with. I’d like you to pick one for me to put inside you.” My cheeks flush all over again, and he pushes off the desk. “Have a look around.” I turn, feeling beyond awkward to be walking around the room naked while he watches me, but also strangely thrilled by it.
I go to the bookcases, looking along the shelves, and see several similar objects to the one he used yesterday. All of them are standing on their end and could be mistaken for minimalistic knick-knacks. But I know better. My eyes flick over them, assessing their width and length, nervous suddenly. The one Oliver used yesterday was very small. Will my body be able to handle anything larger? As I walk around, I realize he’s removed the one we used yesterday. These are all larger and wider, and some of them splay out at the base at an alarming angle. Eventually, I find one that’s a cylinder with a pointed end. About four inches or so in length. Jesus Christ, that’ll have to do. I stop, and without me saying a word, he seems to sense that I’ve made my decision. “Go to the chaise,” he says, and I turn, confused for a moment, until I see a new piece of furniture in the room. I’m pretty sure it wasn’t there yesterday, and I wonder when it could have been delivered today. It’s a de ep, dark red, undulating shape that looks like the strangest chaise lounge I’ve ever seen. I walk to it. “Lie down.” One of the cushions in the center is detachable, and I place it on the floor. Once my ass is balanced, I finally figure out what this chair is for. It’s just like the ornaments, ordinary to the naked eye but with a hidden sexual purpose. My heart flutters when I notice discreet fabric harnesses on either side of it. I settle down, my legs elevated above me, my ass lower than my knees, leaning back in a reclining position as Oliver walks over to me. He has a tube of lube in his hand and is smoothing a thin layer of it over the toy I chose. The slick sound of his fingers on the metal sends a little shiver through me. “Ready?” he asks, and I nod. He fixes me with a stare. “Yes. I’m ready.” “Good girl.” Again, there’s a release with those words, as if something loosens inside me. He comes to stand at the end of the chair. My legs are crossed together, awkward and unnatural. I wish I were more sensual like Bethany, exuding confidence. Instead, I feel as if my body is made of hard lines and edges that won’t cooperate. “Would you like to be face up or on all fours?” he asks casually, like he’s asking me whether I want coffee or tea. As I look into his eyes, I think of the intensity of his gaze while he pushed the toy inside me the day before. It was too much and somehow not enough. “Uh, all fours?” I say, still unsure if that’s the right decision, but the less I look into this man’s eyes, the better. “Good choice. Turn over and prop yourself up until you're comfortable. Thighs spread.” I turn over, my breathing uneven as I lean my arms against the highest point of the seat. I plant my knees on the edges and wait, wondering if he’ll just shove it in without any warning. Why is the thought of that so hot? I realize how turned on I am, a wetness between my legs that I haven’t felt for a long time. Well, exc ept for yesterday. I gasp as a long finger runs down my center, pushing inside in one thrust like he read my mind. “Fuck,” I lower my head to my arms, embarrassed to feel just how wet I already am. I had no idea I was this kinky. “Hm, you’re tight,” he says knowingly, his other hand stroking my ass. “Can you take another?”
“Y—yes.” And a second finger works alongside the first. He pauses and then removes them, and I panic that somehow I’ve done something wrong. Then I groan as he begins to push them into me in an achingly slow rhythm, which drives me wild in seconds. The de ep moan he makes is addictive, and after a few minutes, my thighs are trembling uncontrollably from being suspended in the same position. “Stand up.” I do, placing my feet on the floor on either side of the seat as I feel the blunt head of the toy tap against my entrance. “Are you sure you’re ready, Lissa?” “Yes.” “We’ll see about that.” Then he pushes, and I wince at the width of it. I chose the thinnest one I could find, but after a year of nothing, it still feels like a lot. I moan, letting out broken little sounds as his other hand finds my breast and pinches my nipple. Hard. “Oh, God,” I breathe, flinching away from the touch even as my body comes alive at the pain. “You like that, don’t you?” A zing rips through my body. And it’s divine. “Yes.” He squeezes again, gently at first. “You remember your safe words?” I nod, and he squeezes harder. “Yes,” I clarify. “Yellow and red.” “You’ll use them if you need to. Tell me you understand.” “I understand.” Then his fingers pinch so hard it’s like a vice. It’s so unexpected that I scream, and at the same moment, he shoves the toy in right to the hilt, and it feels so good I almost fall forward onto the seat in ecstasy. He pulls it out and then begins pushing it back inside me with hard, endless thrusts that seem to go on forever. Did I say this thing was four inches long? It feels fucking huge. “You’re so beautiful like this, Lissa,” he murmurs, his voice right beside my ear as his thumb and forefinger torture my nipple with a tighter hold. I know my safe word, I expect to need to use it at any second, but the pain- pleasure is the best thing I’ve ever felt. “You’re shaking for me, like a good girl,” he says, and then his tongue touches my neck and his hand clamps over my mouth as I come convulsively, violently. How did he know? My body is shuddering in waves, muscles shivering like I’m standing in the cold outside, but it’s warm in the room. I almost feel high. Before I can recover, he’s lifted me, flipped me over, placing my head at the lower end of the seat. He’s ridiculously strong, moving me around like I weigh nothing at all. His long legs straddle the seat, tall enough to stand over me with space to spare. Finally, he unzips his pants, and I see his cock for the first time, at least eight inches of solid flesh, thick, dripping with pre-cum, and hard as granite. I want to touch him, but he hasn’t asked me to, and I can only watch as he strokes himself urgently, viciously hard, his eyes on me. Our gazes lock for what feels like endless minutes as he strokes himself, grunting as he braces one hand on the back of the chair as he goes still, cum spilling from his cock all over my neck and breasts. “Holy fuck,” he whispers, breathing hard. Then he stands up, pushes his cock back into his pants, and gives me a small, lazy smile that makes something bright and dangerous wake up inside me like an addictive habit that I’m not going to be able to shake.