Page 28 of Her Billionaire Boss
(Charlotte)
It was bananas how fast I got the hang of working at Matt’s office.Maybe I’d watched enough episodes ofSuitsto fake it, but I loved the rhythm and flow of my days.I had an assistant, a short, pudgy guy named Marshall who was adopted from the Philippines by missionaries when he was two years old, a fact that he told me within five minutes of first meeting me.Technically, I’d been giving him a try out, but by the end of the day, I’d known way too much about his personal life and family history not to keep him on.And he was great at explaining things to me when I didn’t know them but doing it in a way that didn’t make me feel totally unprepared.There were tons of acronyms, different types of reports, and the intra-office messaging system?Forget it.I’d needed a lot of help during that first week, but by week two, I felt like I was completely in my element.
My frequent visits from the boss helped.
“Fuck!Fuck!”I screamed into the wadded-up panties stuffed in my mouth.I had one foot up on my desk, the other thrown over Matt’s shoulder as he knelt on the floor in front of me, feasting on my cunt.
He lifted his head and grinned.“Shhh.We’re having a meeting.People will think you’re quitting.”
I whimpered and tipped my head back as he dove in again.
There was a knock.
I nearly kicked Matt in the face as he tried to get up.
“Ms.Holmes,” Marshall said through the door.“Sorry, I know you’re meeting with Mr.Ashe, but your mother has been calling for you pretty persistently and I’m concerned that it might be an emergency.”
Matt struggled to his feet and jerked the panties from my mouth.I hastily stuffed them into my bottom desk drawer, cursing myself for not thinking ahead.I was wearing a skirt and would have to be hyper-vigilant for the rest of the day.
“Did she say it was an emergency?”I asked, handing Matt his cane.We straightened our clothes in record time, and he gave me a quick kiss before heading to the door.
“She didn’t say anything.She hangs up when I answer.”
Matt exited, giving my assistant a nod and said, “I was leaving, anyway.”
“I’ll send you those...things,” I called after him, thoroughly unconvincing in my attempt at cover.
Marshall blinked at me behind his designer frames.
“I’ll call my mom back,” I said, turning to go to my desk.
Marshall whipped something out of his jacket.To my utter horror, it was a pair of my panties.
“I had them laundered, along with the pair you stuffed behind the potted plant.”He said it with a complete lack of judgement.
A different kind of lack of judgment than the one I’d displayed by hiding my panties everywhere.
“Come on,” he said, tipping his head to one side.“Nobody here is stupid.You’re Mr.Ashe’s girlfriend.Nobody holds that against you, but they’re not pretending they don’t know.”
“Yeah but...you shouldn’t have to wash my panties.That seems like grounds for a lawsuit.”Maybe I shouldn’t have said that; I didn’t want to inspire anyone to take legal action against me before my health insurance even kicked in.
“I’ve done worse things for employers, believe me.”He tossed me the panties with a flick of his wrist.“And you’re not the only person in this company doing the nasty during office hours.”
My eyes widened.“Really?”
“Ma’am, you know those nifty little sex resorts this company owns?Who do you think designed them?”He held up his hands and pretended to look around.“This place is crawling with horndogs.But don’t make it too obvious.”
Noted.“Are Matt—Mr.Ashe—and I being too obvious.”
“Only if you keep leaving your unmentionables lying around.”Marshall turned on his heel and headed for the door, tossing off, “Call your mother.”
I waited for him to leave, then wriggled into the fresh panties, sat down, checked out my appearance in my laptop camera, and pulled up a video call.It took a while for Mom to answer.
“Hi, honey!”she exclaimed over the dark screen.
“Mom, turn your camera on,” I said.
“Your dad is here with me,” she said before the screen illuminated and gave me a view of the interior of her car.I got a weird pang of homesickness at the sight of the palm trees through the sunroof above my truncated view of Mom’s head.
