I sat admiring Mr. King's picture on the cover of a magazine in the waiting room of his company’s tower. Gregory King had aged little in the photo from when I saw him last. We had gone to college together back before he earned his millions. We took English Lit together, and had been partners for our final project at the end of the semester. As a result, we had spent a good deal of time together and became more than friends.
Gregory King was frequently featured in both Forbes’ Magazine’s list of Richest Men and People Magazine’s list of sexiest men alive. He was the founder of a small software company that suddenly found itself the main security software for handheld devices. He had worked hard to stay ahead of the technology curve and had kept himself the leader in the industry. Every magazine enjoyed featuring him in pictures as his strong jaw and boyish blonde hair always made for gorgeous covers. His eyes were an odd combination of blue and brown that refused to be classified and held a smolder that threatened to light the pages on fire. He kept a treadmill in his office that he often ran on between meetings and a set of weights for when he was between clients. As a result, his body looked as though he spent hours in the gym instead of the office. I had gone to school with him, and now I was applying for an entry level position at his company...
His eyes consumed me from across the table.
“You want to do this?”
“Yes”
I gasped with pleasure as he took me in his arms and pinned me to the table. Knowing that he would put me exactly where he wanted me, that I was at his mercy was intoxicating. My pussy dampened at just the thought of it. He bit my collar bone gently, and then sucked on the delicate skin of my throat, leaving a large sensitive red mark. It hurt in such a tantalizing way that I couldn’t wait for more.
I shook my head, clearing the memory. Gregory King was the best sex I had ever had. Our first time together was the traditional celebratory end-of-semester-sleep-with-your-classmate kind of sex. A little too much alcohol had made us both brave to try something new. Between the biting and the ass slapping, he was just rough enough to make me want more. The second time, he tied me to the bed and gave me one of the most pleasurable experiences of my life. Every night was better than the last. It was spectacular, and I never wanted it to end. Unfortunately, he graduated that summer and got a job in another city. Our last night together, he tied me to a chair and taught me how well pain and pleasure could mix. It was hard to let him go, but while we had enjoyed each others’ company, neither one of us was interested in a long distance relationship. We tried to keep in touch, but our hectic lives took control and we stopped talking. The next time I saw him it was on the cover of a magazine as an up-and-coming business man.
“Claire Vanders?” A mousy secretary brought me back to reality. I stood up, smoothed my skirt and picked up my resume. She brought me to a conference room and showed me to a seat. There was only one other person in the room, a tall wiry man, busy reading over papers scattered across the table. His grey hair was cropped short and he peered at me over thin wire glasses.
“Ms. Vanders? You are here to apply for the finance junior associate position, is that correct?”
I nodded and handed him my resume. He took it from me, but didn’t even look at it as he set it on the table. It disappeared into his conglomeration of documents. I swallowed into a dry throat. I needed this job. I was over-qualified for this job.
“My name is Mr. Jenkins, and I have been instructed to hire you, Ms. Vanders, but not for the junior associate position. King Enterprises would like to offer you a position in the finance department as liaison to Mr. King himself. He saw your name on the application list and requested you personally.”
I was pretty sure my jaw was bruised from it hitting the table. This was the best interview I had ever had and I hadn’t even said a word yet. I couldn’t believe my luck.
“A liaison to Mr. King? Would I be working with him personally?” I finally managed to sputter out after a moment of silence. My tongue tripped over most of the words and my voice cracked at the end. I am not entirely sure it even sounded like English.
The thin man nodded curtly, obviously wondering how someone so incredibly articulate had gotten this position. He slid a folder across the table with all the information. I read through the job description and a grin broke out as I saw my proposed salary. The man sat and patiently collected the documents as I signed them, then stood and had me follow him out the door. He brought me to an elevator and up to the 69th floor where he deposited me at a giant desk with a tiny secretary perched inside. She motioned me to sit down and chirped into the intercom that I had arrived. A moment later, Mr. King came out to greet me.
He looked the same as I remembered him. A little wiser around the eyes, but the same intense gaze that made my knees feel like jelly. He shook my hand warmly and guided me into his office. I stood admiring the oversized mahogany furniture and giant glass window as he balanced himself on the edge of his desk.
“You look great, Claire. I am glad I saw your name come up. This position has been vacant for a while- I have been looking for someone I can work with, someone who will give me what I want.” His eyes traveled up and down, appraising me. My dress suit seemed cheap in comparison to my surroundings. It was just a black pencil skirt with a matching jacket. I had paired it with a pale blue button up short sleeve dress shirt and shoes with just enough heel to look feminine but be able to walk quickly. I had felt professional this morning, but now I just felt nervous.
“I always was good at giving you what you wanted.” I replied before realizing the sexual implications of the sentence. I started blushing as soon as the words left my mouth, the room suddenly feeling warm. Mr. King just smiled and stood, offering me a chair. I quickly took it, glad for some movement. He began describing the job and what he expected of me. It was going to be demanding work, but it was in my area of expertise. I would work closely with him on a daily basis and keep him apprised of all necessary financial matters. I could see why he would want someone he could work well with given the amount of time we would be spending together to coordinate his current projects. I shook his hand as he welcomed me aboard, his cool hand seeming to calm my nerves at having such an important job ahead of me.
The next week was filled with classes, some in groups, some as an individual. I had to be brought up to speed on the general workings of the company, the ethics policies, and the various computer programs. I took this training in groups with everyone from temporary employees to independent contractors. For my individual classes, I worked closely with Mr. Jenkins, the tall wiry man from my initial interview. He told me all the things I would be responsible for keeping track of, who would report to me, what I should tell Mr. King and what I shouldn't waste his time with, and so on. Any time I asked a question that I thought was a pretty good question, he looked at me like he couldn't believe that Mr. King had chosen me for this job. He obviously thought I got this job by sleeping my way to the top, but I knew
that I was every bit as qualified for this job as Mr. King thought I was.
The next Monday I was as ready as I was going to be. I met Mr. Jenkins, who gave me a daily summary and told me to memorize the key points by the time we got up to Mr. King's office. I did my best, but I knew I would stumble over some of the key points. When we arrived, Mr. King shook Mr. Jenkins' hand, and gave me a quick smile. After that, we got straight down to business. I was surprised at how quickly he jumped into the fine details of the company, asking questions that I was supposed to track down the answers to, and nodding at the different explanations for why different departments were having different issues.
He read from one of the pieces of paper. “The third quarter revenues were …When did you start hunching?” He interrupted himself as he walked around the desk. I looked up from my notes confused, but realizing that I was indeed hunching over my pen and paper. I shrugged and sat up straight, but within two minutes he caught me hunched over again.
“You have got to be fucking kidding me, Claire.” I looked at him, startled at his language. He never spoke to me like that while we were undergrads. I guess time had changed him. He angrily opened a desk drawer and fumbled around in it, finally finding a roll of duct tape. My heart skips as I think of him taping me to this very chair and having his way with me, like our last night together. I felt a heat surge between my legs. The same thoughts must have gone through his head, because he stopped and held up the tape to explain.