Chapter 3
(Anastasia)
The salary Ross offered me was much more than I ever anticipated. With that salary, I could have my catering business up and running within a couple of years, still have my personal savings, plenty of money for daily expenses and bills, and a cushion for the business. As long as I kept my head on straight. I couldn’t go wild and be frivolous with the money, but if I was careful, I would be set.
Three weeks into the new job, I had seen little of Ross. It was disappointing but made each of his visits all the more special. I worked hard to impress him. But that first month, I admit, was overwhelming. More often than not, I found myself still in my office at the dinner hour. The staff was great. And, just as Ross had bragged, they were very talented. They were work-oriented, too. And argumentative. That was fine with me. It kept the long days interesting. Besides, most artistic people are given to arguing—especially if they think you are insulting their work, or you want something major changed.
During my fifth week, I began to relax. I did not feel as much like the new employee anymore and was on friendly terms with all my staff. The rough edges were wearing off and we all began to get along much better. It was becoming an easy routine. I was accustomed to the long hours in the office and no longer felt drained all the time.
It was in that week that Ross called me into his office and made a pass at me. What would become one of many, many passes at me.
“Anastasia, we need to work a bit more on this ad for the Mangrove’s Retail and Food store.” He tapped a mock-up on the easel, stepped behind me, and pushed his office door shut.
“All right. What more did you have in mind for it?” I was confused. It seemed perfect to me.
“I was thinking, maybe a little more late-night, not so much mid-morning when all the mothers are watching kids shows mindlessly with their little ones. Does that make sense?” He cocked his head and looked me up and down.
My heart fluttered and stuttered under his unapologetic gaze. “I think so.” Not really, but I did not want to just come out and say so. I wanted him to give an example, of his own volition.
He moved to stand directly in front of me, I had to look up to meet his eyes. He caressed my arm from shoulder to wrist seductively, staring into my eyes with hot passion. My thighs tensed, my nipples hardened, and I bit my lip to keep from moaning.
“More late night, when couples are lying naked in their warm and rumpled beds, encompassed in the afterglow of their lovemaking. You know, after they’ve shed their clothes, most likely in a hurry, leaving them on the floor, and worked up an appetite, gotten sweaty and dirty.” He traced a finger from my earlobe to my collarbone.
I did moan a little that time. Couldn’t stop it. No one had touched me like that in over a year. Trying to nod, I asked breathlessly, “What does all that have to do with Mangrove’s?”
“Think about it. Couples in that state are soon going to be thinking about something to eat, there’s the food department and the in-house, twenty-four-hour deli. They’ll be wanting to shower, there’s a plug spot for our personal health and beauty, the pharmacy, shampoo, you name it. Then these couples, always, always, will be thinking about how to dress, what will make them more appealing to their partner, what will be comfortable, affordable and still do all these? Our clothes, of course.” He leaned close to my ear and said, “You gotta think outside the box, Anastasia.” His deep voice rumbled sexily against my ear, tickling the hair that hung over it.
The sensation was out of this world alluring. I wanted to press my body to his right there but thought better of it. He was just making a point. Right? Then his hands slid from my shoulders all the way to my hips as he pulled back, no smile on his face, only sexual heat in his eyes. A wanton lust so powerful that I nearly swooned upon seeing it.
“Outside the box. Right. I’ll get right on it, Ross.” My voice was breathless, and the air suddenly seemed too hot in his office. I moved shakily toward the door, hoping he had not noticed his closeness had affected me.
He put his hand on the door, over my head, his body lightly touching me from shoulder to hip. “You don’t have to start on it right away, Anastasia. We could…talk for a few minutes, go over some ideas first that way you have a better understanding of what I want from you.” His voice held a lusty tone that, if we’d been in a bedroom, would have bent me to his every desire.
I didn’t respond right away; I was unable to respond. Fighting the urge to press back against him, to feel more of him against me, I closed my eyes and stood still. Then his lips lightly touched my neck just between my shoulder and earlobe.
I gasped. My instinct was to move forward, away from the unexpected touch, but the door blocked my getaway. I had to step backward to allow room for the door to open, but he was there, so close, kissing my neck so lightly, his breath as uneven as my own.
Shrinking to the side, I encountered his arm. His hand was still firmly planted on the door, my escape.
“Anastasia, stay for a while. It’s private in here. The door has a lock and I could show you what I want from you.”
His breath against my neck, the gentle movement of his lips there, I was done for, lost in my own lust for him. My desire to be touched, caressed, kissed, and naked against him overrode all my senses and I leaned into him, still unable to utter a word, and nodded.
The episode was hotter than hot. His hands were all over me, tugging at my clothes, gripping at my curves, tweaking my nipples under my shirt, with me pressed against the door. I untucked his shirt and put my hands on his chiseled chest. It was wonderful to have his naked skin under my hands, within my grasp. He was hard. All of him was hard. His erection stood out against the material of his suit pants. I touched him there and he gasped, drawing in a deep breath, holding it, and closing his eyes, he whispered, “Yes.”
I gripped him through his pants, marveling at his size, wanting him inside me. All thoughts of propriety had withered and blown away from me. He worked up the hem of my skirt and pushed aside my wet panties. When his fingers touched me there, I thought my head would explode. I spread my legs and pressed my hips forward.
A loud, sharp knock on the door at my back ended our session abruptly and before either of us could gain an ounce of satisfaction. Panic seized me and I pushed him away, immediately finger-combing my hair back into place and straightening my clothes. He moved quickly, tucking his shirt back into his pants and sitting in his chair. He pushed up close to his desk and waited until I was seated before ushering in the visitor.
“Come in!” He sounded irritated. No wonder, that close and being interrupted, I was irritated, too.
It was his secretary, Julian. She stepped in and looked from me to Ross and back again, a small smile playing at her mouth. Not the happy kind of smile, but the kind that is more of a smirk, degrading in its knowledge of what was going on.
She handed him a list across the desk and cut a sharp, knowing look at me. Then she spoke to Ross, “These plans need to be finalized.” She glanced at me and winked at him. “Whenever you finish here. We can’t move forward without your great big…” She giggled and then continued, “…signature, Ross.” She spun on her heel and rolled her eyes at me as she exited the room. The door shut with a loud bang.