I remember exactly what I was wearing the day I was promoted: a fitted black wool blazer covering a sheer silk blouse in cream; my favorite black tailored skirt that fell just above the knee; barely there stockings and my highest heels in beige.
My tapered waist was hugged by that jacket and skirt, and my legs looked about a mile long. It was a good day to mark my first major career success.
After years of hard work, I now had the keys to a corner office. I had promised myself I’d make it by the time I’d turned 40. I was two years ahead of schedule.
At the meeting in the main boardroom, where the announcement was made to the rest of the hundred-strong team, I bowed my head in modesty. Once the cheers had subsided, I moved to the head of the room and clicked on the digital projector. My presentation was as big a hit as the announcement, it seemed.
As one of only three women at the firm to reach this level of power, and the youngest at that, I had worked hard and smart to win my rightful place in the corporation. I had paid my dues. And now it was time to reap the rewards.
A young MBA named Charlie was the first to approach me as the meeting dispersed.
“I really liked what you had to say today,” he told me. “I have some data I think will help you solidify your plans for growth. Lunch tomorrow?”
I’d worked with Charlie since he’d joined the firm three years ago. He was smart. He was a go-getter, and he was speaking the exact words I wanted to hear. We both entered the lunch appointment into our calendars. When he looked up and smiled, I knew he was thinking exactly what I was: the restaurant in that downtown hotel where we usually met was the only place that would do.
“I’ll make the reservation,” he said. I nodded and smiled.
Suddenly, at my elbow was another young upstart named Sophie.
“I am just thrilled to be working with you at the helm,” she said. And because I couldn’t detail then the plans I had for her — playing favorites in public was not wise — I said, “Let’s grab a working dinner together tomorrow night. You free?”
That night I needed to celebrate with Mitch, my boyfriend. The next night was soon enough to begin securing my A-team and solidifying my alliances — and have some fun.
As soon as I got to my light-filled office, I kicked off my heels and put my feet up on the other Danish-designed chair in the room. “Meet me at Max’s,” I texted my boyfriend. “At 6:30 p.m.”
“You got news?” he texted back. I let his question hang.
When Mitch walked into the restaurant that night, he could see the answer to his query on my elated face.
“You got it!” he whispered excitedly in my ear as he wrapped his arm around my waist. “You are so fucking sexy when you win,” he said, pulling his other arm from behind his back to reveal a bouquet of flowers.
Mitch was a dozen years younger than me and very, very hot. I had picked him up at the bar in this very same eatery four months ago, where I’d rented a hotel room for a staycation — during which I planned to party with whatever young cub I could lure into my lair. I’d leaned toward him while sitting on a nearby barstool to say, “That girl you’re with is far too juvenile for you.”
“Yeah?” he asked. “What are you proposing?”
I slipped him the extra key for my room as I whispered the room number, had another gin martini and then headed back, wondering if I’d get to teach an athletic 20-something some new moves that night. Alone in the elevator riding up to my floor, I slipped my hand into my panties to finger my pulsing clit. Even if he didn’t show, fun was still on the menu. I had my favorite sex toys at the ready.
I poured myself a drink from the mini bar and opened the database I was working on.
I’ll distract myself, I thought. I’ll give this guy an hour.
But I couldn’t wait for him. Thoughts of what I could do with that boy’s body had made my pussy wet. I stripped down in front of a full-length mirror and angled one foot atop the bed. Heels still on, I opened my legs wide and reached for my toys. I slid a gently rumbling vibrator over my clit, shivering with delight, and slowly slipped a faux cock into my cunt. The lips of my pussy spread to allow its entry, and I angled the plaything and pushed it deeper, imagining how I’d enjoy that boy if he showed up.
The phone rang.
“This is the front desk. I have a young man in the lobby saying he found your cell phone. Did you lose it earlier?”
Grabbing my handbag off the side table, I confirmed that it was missing and said I’d be right down. I quickly dressed and headed for the elevator, flushed and very much in need of a proper fucking. Mitch was leaning against the front desk, making the blonde concierge smile and giggle as I approached.
“I can’t thank you enough for this,” I said. “How did you know it was mine?”
“I noticed you left it behind on the bar,” he said.
“Let me buy you a drink.” We both smiled at the front desk girl and headed for the lounge. But once out of view, I pulled him toward the elevators. “Why not just come up? Did you lose the key I gave you?” I asked.
“I wanted to see you in public again first, I guess.” The elevator arrived, and once in, he said, “Turn around for me? I fucking love your ass.”
“Where’s your girlfriend?”
“I have no idea — and she’s not my girlfriend.”