Bossy Request (2 page)

“I will have none of that.”

Frank stood up and unbuttoned his shirt. I stopped
breathing. He sat at the foot of the lounge as the fabric slid off his
shoulders and arms. His naked torso was just what I needed for the prickling
tingles to return to my body.

“Come here.” He motioned with his hand to move toward him.

I leaned closer. Frank wrapped his shirt around my
shoulders, helping me put my arms into the long sleeves as gently as possible.

“You’re getting the rest of the day off,” he whispered. “You
need to get this checked out by a doctor and call me as soon as you’re all
right. I wish I could come with you, but I’m in meetings all day. And they’re
not ones I can cancel.”

Frank hung on to the front of his shirt and pulled me in
closer. His eyes glistened with a mix of regret and lust.

“I think I’ll be fine, Frank. Really. And you need your
shirt back. I can wear my sweater.” As much as I wanted to look away, I
couldn’t help marveling at his naked torso. My hand twitched; I wanted to touch
his pecs and run my hands over them.

“I have a spare shirt in the closet,” he whispered, pointing
to the right, but neither of us looked.

Frank’s mouth was only inches away from mine. His breath
warmed my lips. I found myself leaning in closer with each inhale, tasting his
exhales until our lips touched. I did not move and neither did Frank. His hands
held mine. The kiss, unlike what I expected, reminded me of when I was a girl,
kissing a boy under a bridge at the tender age of nine. My lips burned more
than my chest, and the need in my panties made me open my mouth wider.

He pulled away. “Oh, Sharon,” Frank breathed against my
lips. “If I continue this now, I won’t stop.”

Speechless, I sat with my mouth open.

“Close your mouth. It drives me crazy each time you open
those lips.” He tapped my chin from below.

I took a sharp inhale. How could someone like me drive this
hunk crazy?

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kissed you. I value you here,
more than anyone, and I wouldn’t want to jeopardize your job.” Flustered, Frank
stood up, running his fingers through his hair.

“Of course,” I whispered.

“Like I said, you take the rest of the day off, and for
goodness sake, see a doctor.”

I didn’t like his commanding tone. This was the Frank I’d
heard on conference calls, not one just kissing me.

“I will.” My quiet answer broke his unnerving stroll across
the office.

“I’m sorry, Sharon. I don’t mean to sound harsh. I feel bad
I’ve ruined your outfit and now for kissing you.”

He felt bad about the kiss? I didn’t. The morning, so far,
had been one of the best ones I’d had at this job. The caring Frank I wondered
about showed me compassion and now regretted kissing me.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about.” I stood up as
professionally as I could. If there was anyone who could get a hint, it was me.
“The day’s schedule is on your desk, Frank.” I straightened his oversized shirt
and headed toward the door.

“Thank you. And Sharon, I understand if you’re upset with me
and don’t want to, but it would mean a lot if you could still make it to dinner
tonight. I will be ready no matter what you decide.” He handed me the olive
envelope.

Confused, I took the invitation and left the office. Frank
still wanted to thank me for keeping him coordinated. Would it be awkward after
the kiss between us? A proper secretary who wanted to keep her job would
decline, but the more I thought about Frank’s lips and naked chest, the
swelling below my navel increased and curiosity swayed my decision. I’d been
proper long enough. If the bare touch of his lips could stimulate me, what
would happen if he rubbed his body against mine? Was it something I wanted to
risk losing my job over?

Yes, it definitely was.

But what if Frank kept the dinner professional? I couldn’t
just throw myself at him. I’d just have to keep it formal.

On the way home I stopped by a men's store and picked out a
purple tie. It was the one color I'd never seen Frank wear. I didn't really
care if the sales lady stared at my unconventional ensemble of a pencil skirt
and an over-sized man's shirt, because Frank had kissed me.

***

I rang the
doorbell. A chime echoed seductively. It played for a few seconds before
softening into a silence. Frank opened the door, looking rattled.

"Hi," he smiled.
"Right on time." His casual tone, more like a friend than boss,
surprised me as he composed himself within a second.

"Hi," I answered.

"Come in, Sharon."
Frank opened the door wider and I stepped inside. The walls of the hallway were
wrapped in tapestries. The black and red curved patterns were illuminated by
the warm glow of sconce lighting. This home bore no resemblance to the
contemporary design of Frank’s office.

My nose itched. "Is
something burning?" I asked.

"Shit! I'll be right
back." He ran off, I assumed to the kitchen.

"Do you need help?"
I called out after him, braving to step further into the hall.

A minute later Frank came
back, his face apologetic. "I'm sorry, but the fancy dinner I'd promised
you is turning out to be a disaster."

"Are you cooking?"
I asked. Frank didn't know how to make coffee, and I couldn't imagine him
preparing food.

"Yes. Alberto, my chef,
had a family emergency. I wasn’t sure if you’d come, so I told him to be with
his family. I wanted to make something just in case, but it doesn't seem to be
working."

"What’s not working?” I
panicked, hoping he hadn’t nuked aluminum foil as he had at work, blowing up
our microwave. “You tried to cook?" I laughed.

"And failed miserably. I
didn’t use the microwave,” he added quickly, reading the fear on my face, and
pointed to the box in my hands. “I hope that's food you brought. Here, let me
help you with this."

He took the box and set it aside
on the hall table before unbuttoning my jacket. Standing so close, I inhaled
Frank’s scent. The aroma rushed through me. My breaths became shallower, and
something told me the dinner wouldn’t be as formal as I had thought it would
be. Would Frank stay away from me now that we’d kissed? He seemed relaxed and
not as reserved as he was at work.

"It's dessert," I
whispered, as my heart raced.

"I had a different kind
of dessert in mind, but I'm sure we can compromise." He eyed my ensemble. "Yes,
you definitely have more style than I do. I love the tie." He tugged on
the purple fabric. Frank stood so close he almost pressed against me... but not
quite.

“It’s for you. You don’t have
this shade.” I loosened the knot. My hands brushed his as he held the tie, never
letting go of my gaze. Frank’s pulse must have sped as well, the thumps of his
heart visible under the fit v-neck.

"Thank you. See, this is
something I would have never picked," he said.

I started pulling it over my
head, but he stopped me, smirking. “Don’t undress so quickly, Sharon. It looks
good on you. I’ll take it off when I give you my gift.”

“You got me a gift?” I asked.

“Yes, but it’s something that
would go much better with the dessert I had in mind.” He grinned, lowering my
jacket off my shoulders. He hung it on the vintage coat rack by the mirror.

This Frank appeared different
than the boss I worked for
—
or under, as
he’d preferred to say. He seemed at ease and was treating me as an equal.

"Come on, let's see if
we can salvage any dinner," I laughed.

Unexpectedly, Frank took my
hand and led me toward the kitchen. On the marble counter, a frying pan steamed
from under a cover. I lifted the lid.

“You burned noodles?” I
asked. “What exactly were you trying to make?”

“Spaghetti.”

“Frank, there’s so much I
could teach you.” I sighed. “But it’s better you stay out of the kitchen
completely.” I emptied the frying pan into the garbage at the side of the
counter.

“I like you in charge,
Sharon, but you’re my guest, and I will not have you cooking when I want to
enjoy your company. But thank you for all your help.”

Frank held me by my elbow,
directing to sit on the stool by the counter. He poured me a glass of red wine,
and I wondered how he knew I enjoyed Merlot. The doorbell rang.

“Stay here,” he’d said and
headed out to the front door.

I took a few more sips of
wine before Frank came back carrying a box of pizza in one hand and my dessert
box in another. Frank set aside the dessert with a smirk.

“I ordered, just in case.” He
opened the lid and placed a slice on a fancy plate. “I hope you like
vegetarian.”

“Are you always prepared for
everything?” I asked.

“Always.”

The tension between us grew
with each comment. For the first time tonight, I held no concerns that Frank
would stay away from me because of company rules. My instinct told me exactly
why I was sitting in his kitchen, sharing a meal with my boss. It warned me
that I was the dessert Frank had in mind. And of course I wanted him to devour
my cupcake, instead of the one in the box. I felt myself getting wet again and
tried to distract us with conversation.

“I didn’t know you like
vegetarian.” I said.

“I’m more of a meat person,
but I like to try new things.” He wiped his mouth with a napkin.

That
didn’t work as my gaze flew to the meat in his pants.
He met my stare and hopped off his stool.

I froze, feeling like a kid
caught stealing candy.

Frank turned my chair around
so that I faced him. “Did you go to see a doctor?” He asked.

“No. There was no need,” I
explained.

“Do you mind if I check?”

I thought I’d see a smirk on
his face, but Frank showed genuine concern. Did he want me to lift my shirt and
show my chest?

“Don’t be embarrassed,
Sharon. I’ve already seen you in a bra; a wet one, in fact.”

This time I saw a spark in
his eye as he came closer. He unfastened my shirt, slowly, holding his focus
steady on each button; or perhaps on what he was uncovering. Frank’s fingers
touched my chest once in a while and I took a sharp breath in.

“Breathe, Sharon.” He looked
at me. Frank lowered my shirt off my shoulders. His purple tie remained around
my neck, flowing down my cleavage. He smiled, I assumed at noticing the
matching shade of my bra. Frank brushed his fingers along the top of my breast,
just where its plumpness blended with my chest.

“Is it sore?” he asked.

“No.” I shook my head.

“Good. I wouldn’t want to
hurt you.” He took hold of his new tie and gently pulled it toward him until I
was forced to slide off my seat to stand.

“Hurt me?” My voice was
barely a whisper.

The wine flowed through my
veins. His other hand glided to the top of my thigh, where the slit of my
floor-length skirt began, steadying my stance. My heat level rose at his touch.
The sensation of his palm on my leg tingled upward and in toward my sex and its
increased secretions.

“I want you, Sharon, but I
can’t lose you as my secretary.” Frank’s breath caressed my face.

At this moment, I didn’t
really care about losing my job but more about being able to see Frank every
day. I had to ensure any job I did for Frank would satisfy him enough so that
he would never dismiss me.

“As long as you don’t fire
me, you’ll never lose me,” I answered as his hand grazed along my thigh to the
back, gently squeezing my rear.

Frank pulled on the tie with
his other hand until my lips pressed against his. He forced his mouth on mine
with a need I hadn’t felt in a long time. I opened my lips, letting his
wine-coated tongue explore my mouth. I heard myself moan as the exchange
deepened. With his right arm, Frank lifted me onto the counter, never letting
go of the tie.

He pulled away for a moment,
took a sip of the wine, and offered his glass to me. I emptied the glass,
feeling its soothing coolness flow down into my stomach. Was it the wine that
made us both so bold? Frank placed the glass back on the counter and cleared
the rest of our dinner out of the way. He flipped the front of my skirt to the
side and pushed on my knees, spreading my legs and revealing my soaked panties.
His hand grazed my skin toward the inside of my legs as he pulled me in for
another kiss.

Frank’s fingers played around
the lace of my panties before sliding his hand underneath the fabric. He didn’t
waste time; using my wetness, he slipped his finger inside me. I moaned in his
mouth but he didn’t release me, stealing any last taste of wine that remained
in my mouth. The pressure between my legs increased and I felt him add another
finger, pushing harder, widening me with each entry.

His mouth finally let go of
mine, and he released me, backing away.

Confused, I furrowed my
brows. Had he changed his mind? Didn’t he want me? That’s not what I saw in his
eyes and in the mass of his pants.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Sharon, if we do this, I
don’t know what will happen at work,” he warned.

“We’ll keep it a secret.
Frank, I need you. I want you,” I pleaded, lowering the straps of my bra to my
arms. My nipples tightened, almost painfully, as my desire peaked through the
lace.