The Deep End

If she couldn’t remember before, there was no way she’d think of it now. Her brain was fried. She no longer felt cold; she was on fire.

It was another moment before her tongue loosened. ‘I don’t know, I can’t remember. He’s an executive with Breton-Craig. We flirted at dinner last night.’

‘Did you fuck him last night or did you wait until this afternoon?’

Though she was beginning to feel cornered, she refused to give up her composure. She spoke matter-of-factly. ‘No. He was drunk by the end of the night, and I needed to be here at seven o’clock.’

‘Did you want to last night?’

Grace nodded. ‘Yes, I did.’

He said nothing, and she was fraught with turmoil. Taureau had been right; the need for control gnawed at her. She took the opportunity in his silence to try and gain some semblance of an upper hand.

She gripped the edge of the table. ‘Is this the real reason you rang me tonight? You want the filthy details?’

‘I don’t need filthy details. I’ve seen them with my own eyes. No, I was curious. At one point in the video from today you looked right at the camera. I wanted to find out whether you were that clever and knew you were being watched.’

He moved again, this time to reveal a little more of his face. He had a strong chin dappled with whiskers and a wide mouth. The burgundy shirt he wore was unbuttoned partway to reveal a lightly furred chest. Just the slightest hint of a naked body gave her a thrill she had to suppress.

‘How do you feel about being watched? Be honest with me.’

‘How do you know I’d be telling you the truth when my livelihood is hanging in the balance?’

‘Is it? I thought we’d settled this when you admitted you didn’t know his name. Miss Neely, I’m not firing you. Now please, tell me how you feel about being watched.’

She had the urge to avert her gaze as a shiver teased between her shoulder blades. Indeed, when she made her connections at the office there was always the thrill of being caught, but that thrill only shimmered through her as she and her lover secreted themselves away. She wasn’t doing it because of any penchant for being watched.

‘I’ve never thought about it until tonight,’ she said honestly. ‘It’s never been my fantasy.’

‘Anonymous sex is your fantasy.’

‘It’s not anonymous,’ she insisted, then laughed at herself. ‘It’s not entirely anonymous. I do get their names most of the time.’

‘That’s more than I can say about my own activities these days, Miss Neely.’ Taureau chuckled, a low sound that surrounded her. ‘You’re evading my question again. Now that you know you’ve been watched all this time, how do you feel?’

‘Hot.’ His mouth twitched as the admission raced electric through her veins. ‘I would feel different if I found out there was a security guard jerking off somewhere, or if I caught someone peeking through a crack in the door.’

‘You’ve been lucky. No one’s caught on yet.’

‘But you have, and now that I know you’ve seen everything …’ She darted her gaze from side to side, wondering if he could see the slight movement as she pressed her thighs together. ‘You must know that’s one hell of a fantasy you’re peddling: a rich, brooding stranger watching me from the shadows while I’m bent over a table or a desk with a hard cock pounding between my legs.’

A sharp hissing sound came from the speakers. Grace couldn’t help smiling.

‘Is that what you needed to hear so you won’t feel like a pervert the next time you’re rubbing out while watching me?’

‘There you go again, trying to get control from me. One would think you like to be in charge, but we both know that’s not true. You like to be pushed around a little. You like to be told what to do.’

Regardless of how many miles separated them, Grace still felt the shift. It rushed up around her, leaving her light-headed as arousal weighed her down.

‘It’s late,’ she said quietly. ‘If you have no more questions for me, I should be on my way.’

‘I’m not quite ready to say good night yet,’ he answered quickly. ‘I enjoy talking to you. Too many people tell me what I want to hear, and apologise when I question them. You’re quite fearless.’

Taureau went silent. On the screen she could see the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. When the pulse stopped, when he held his breath, so did she.

Something was about to happen. Even if she could think clearly, she doubted whether she could imagine what it might be, but whatever it was she was more than ready for it.

He moved again, withdrawing further into shadow. ‘I want you to ask me again if there’s anything you can do for me, Miss Neely.’

‘Mr Taureau,’ she said, but had a hard time accepting that the sultry voice she heard was actually hers, ‘is there anything I can do for you?’

The silence stretched on and on as the warmth flowed. A faint current went through her abdomen.

Finally, Taureau said, ‘Show me your garters.’

‘Yes, Mr Taureau.’

She thanked years of being able to stay focused under pressure for the steadiness in her voice and in her hands as she reached down, even as her heart began to drum a little faster.

Her gaze fixed on the screen, Grace worked the skirt up, tugging one side at a time until the hem brushed the tops of her stockings.

Taureau remained unmoving, his half-smile turning up the corner of his mouth. His dark sorcerer’s eyes seemed to look inside her.

When she had revealed just an inch of the garter, she stopped.

‘Turn around. Keep going.’

Grace obeyed. She wished she could see what he saw as she worked her skirt up around her waist. She could only imagine: black stockings, the creamy skin above bisected by the garters, her ass bare save for the skinny thong she wore.

When she was exposed to him, she looked over her shoulder. ‘Is there anything else, sir?’

‘One hand on the table. Touch yourself with the other.’

The fever inside her built, moving like a match to gasoline. Her face was on fire. She worked hard to draw a breath in and out.

Grace bent forward, hand flat on the surface of the conference table. Looking straight ahead, she was faced with the same skyline she had been admiring only minutes ago. The pink hues that had streaked across the sky had gone translucent and the moonlight bled through.

Goose flesh rose on her arms and legs. A thrill went up her spine. She knew even before she slipped her hand between her legs that she would find her panties soaked through.

‘Mr Taureau,’ she said in a murmur as she slid her fingers along the outline of her pussy, ‘tell me what I can do for you.’

An intake of breath preceded his words. The moment seemed to go on and on in silence as she stroked herself, her heart drumming faster and louder while she waited.

Finally: ‘Come for me.’

She couldn’t stop the moan that slipped over her lips and dissipated into the quiet. Closing her heavy lids so the panorama before her became a smudge, Grace ran her finger up and down. Her juices seeped through the thin lace barrier, wetting her fingertips.

The world was surreal to her. It was as though she was participating in something that shouldn’t be: caught at last taking her pleasure at work, ensnared by the mythical Taureau himself in this wicked game.