Who is she?
There’s a strange woman in my office. Rather than demanding to know who she is and what the hell she’s doing here however, I stand silently in my doorway, watching her.
Because that’s the best ass I’ve ever seen. Full and round, flaring out from a small waist and sitting atop a pair of juicy thighs, encased in a tight grey skirt that’s showing her curves off to perfection, she’s certainly got my attention.
I have to admit I don’t usually notice the cleaning staff. Not because I’m some superior asshole, even though that’s an image I have purposefully cultivated, but because I’m so busy these days our paths rarely cross. Back when I was a young and eager junior manager, I always made a point of getting to know the staff and ensuring they knew they were valued. Cleanliness makes a company go round…besides which, I’d never forget my past.
I don’t generally find myself eyeing them up like this though. Regardless of job role, I make a point of never getting involved with my employees. And now that I’m the CEO of my own tech company, everyone is an employee. I’m one of the richest men in Manhattan…and I make sure everyone knows it.
I’ve been so busy staring at her ass that I’ve only just realized what she’s doing. She’s bending over the waste basket, basket in hand, yet rather than emptying it, she appears to be going through it.
What is she looking for?
“You seem to find the contents of my waste basket rather interesting,” I say drily. She jumps to her feet and spins round, cheeks red and flustered.
“Mr. Adams,” she says, clearing her throat. “I wasn’t expecting you so early.”
“I’m always in early,” I tell her. “Whereas the cleaning staff usually come in the evening?”
I’m beginning to wonder if I should call security, although she looks the part in her grey dress with the logo of the cleaning firm we use and her hair back in a neat bun. It’s a drab outfit…but on her, I think anything would look sexy.
Shiny dark hair contrasts with porcelain skin, bright green eyes and pouty lips in a perfect oval face with cheekbones that could cut glass. A petite but curvy figure with breasts that are straining the buttons of her dress. She has the sort of body that would be enticing even if it were wrapped in one of those trash bags she’s holding in her hand.
“Yes, they told me that…but I’m new. They’ve changed some of the shifts around…apparently you approved this?” She raises an eyebrow at me.
“Did I? Maybe I did, I don’t remember.”
That utterly fuckable mouth makes a small pout of disapproval.
“I suppose you’re too important to take much notice of the cleaning schedule,” she says, then her eyes go wide as she realizes what she just said. Her words make me bristle, but I swallow down the immediate retort that comes to my lips. Because she’s right. I do vaguely remember a phone call about the cleaning schedule. I passed it to my secretary, annoyed that I, as the CEO, was being bothered with it.
“You haven’t really explained why you were rooting around in the waste basket,” I remind her. “You’re supposed to be emptying it, aren’t you, not inspect the contents?”
She blushes furiously holding up her left hand. No wedding or engagement ring, I notice.
“This fell in while I was emptying it. I was looking for it. I’m sorry.”
She doesn’t sound sorry at all.
“That’s okay. What’s your name?”
She blinks, seeming unsettled by the abrupt change of subject. I don’t usually do small talk. I suspect I’m not very good at it.
“Erm…Rose. It’s on my badge.”
I close my eyes briefly, hiding how mortified I feel. Here I am, CEO of a huge corporation, and I’m acting like a school boy caught off guard by a pretty girl.
But she’s not just a pretty girl…she’s an absolute goddess. Women throw themselves at me every day – money and power will do that for a guy – yet I rarely take any notice. I grew bored with New York socialites a long time ago. Yet this woman – who looks younger than I would usually notice too, has me feeling like a stunned school boy. I just hope it’s not showing.
“Pleased to meet you Rose,” I say, trying to regain some of my composure. I hold my hand out, and she looks at it in surprise before taking it, while I cringe inside. I’m shaking her hand. What am I doing?
“Pleased to meet you too, Mr. Adams.”
“Call me Sebastian,” I say, surprising myself. She looks surprised too, and a small, almost shy smile plays around the corners of her lips. I want to kiss it. In fact, I want to pop the already straining buttons on her dress and fondle her breasts while I bend her over my desk and fuck her until she screams my name.