Crazy Little Thing.

She cast sidelong glances down the conference table. He sat there, buttoned up, all buffed and polished.

His hair was perfect. His lips were slightly pursed as he looked through his horn-rimmed glasses, at their CFO giving his report.

He was so fucking hot. No one else got it. No one else saw it. She couldn’t figure that out, not in the least. So, he was older. So, he was a bit portly. He was still incredibly sexy.

Saliva pooled in her mouth as she thought about his hair, disheveled. That perfect white crown of hair, mussed from her fingers tangling in it as she bucked and writhed under him.

“Linnette?” She blinked, startled. “Wha? uh. sorry, i..”

“I asked if you had a question about the quarterly spending in your department summary.” The CFO looked pissy. Geeeze. All of 30, and already a prissy-assed bitch. He was such a weenie. His thingy probably only got taken out of his pants to take a piss. She could not in any way imagine fucking him. Ugh!

“No,” she shook her head, “I’m fine.”

The meeting disbanded shortly afterwards, and she found herself the last to go (again), neatly bundling her papers into an organized pile, slipping them in her folder, and grabbing her purse.  When she stood up, and turned to go, he was there.

Right. Fucking. There.

“Oops! I–sorry! I didn’t see you there, Paul.” She was startled. The object of her lustful fantasies  stood right in front of her.

“What were you thinking about during the meeting? Because I know it wasn’t budget related.”

“Oh, but I…” she began.

He cut her off.

“You have the flushed look a woman wears after sex.”

She blinked.

“So, either you’ve figured out how to self-pleasure in a hands-off way,  you had sex before you got in here, which is doubtful, since I watched that look come over you, or…?” He trailed off.

She blushed. Deeply, richly red, the bane of her fair-skin.

“Ah, the redhead blush. Can’t hide much with that outing you, now can you?”

His words were both kind and knowing, and almost, almost, making fun of her. She looked up at him, fast, trying to fathom his remarks. Her heart beat uncomfortably fast, and she swallowed as nerves overtook her.

“What, pussy got your tongue?”

That made her look up again, shock and humor vying for dominance on her face.  Humor won, eliciting a small giggle from her.


He cocked his head at her, daring her to lie.

The conference room door opened, and the CFO’s secretary slipped in, looking back over her shoulder, talking to someone. Their little tableau broken, she slipped away as Wendy chatted at Paul while she gathered up her boss’s papers.


She managed to avoid him for the rest of the day. She had out-of-the building meetings in the late afternoon, and rather than go back to the office, she emailed in her report from her kitchen.

She sat, comfortable and relaxed, in an old, thin, cotton nightgown. Her toenails were freshly painted, a bright and happy eggplant purple, her hair and face were scrubbed clean of the day, and she studiously kept her mind away from the interrupted conversation with Paul. No. Way. She was not wandering down that garden path. Not tonight.

She looked at recipes at her favorite website, making a mental note to pick up some cauliflower at the Farmers Market on her way home tomorrow. Hmmm, and maybe make the attempt to grill some corn-on-the-cob on her grill, with a nice steak.

Her doorbell rang.

She had no idea why her neighbor always rang the fucking bell. Time after time she had told her to walk in and holler hello. Well, she’d been brought up in the friendly mid-west…these east-coasters were pretty rigid about some things. Back home, an open door meant a “yooo-hooo” and a chance to catch up. Here, not so much.

Rather than getting up, hoping against hope that she could finally encourage Sue to ‘come on and set a spell’ she hollered from the kitchen…”C’mon in…it’s open!” and went back to making her shopping list for the week.

A change in the air, the scent of cologne shocked her. Her eyes lifted from her monitor to stare, in shock, at Paul. Her mouth opened but no words came out. He went to her glassware cupboard, easy to see through her glass-fronted cabinets, took down a wineglass, and poured  from the open bottle on her counter.  He took a sip, nodded at her.

“Great wine. By the way, you look like you swallowed your tongue.”

She blinked.

“What…what are you doing here?” She remembered, in a rush, her unmade face, her washed  hair hanging in  wet noodles, all corkscrewed and drippy, and her very thin nightgown. Nothing hid her round belly, nor her large, pillowy tits. She was fully, totally exposed.

“You are very pretty, just like this. Relaxed, though not so much now as when I first came in. You look sweet, and fresh, and if you don’t know why I’m here, why…that’d just make you stupid. And you’re not.”

She blinked. This was one of the things she admired most about Paul. He didn’t beat around the bush, he didn’t bullshit you. He was plainspoken, blunt. Not intentionally hurtful, not curt, nor mean. He just laid it all out there.

Her mouth opened and closed a few times. Then, taking a deep breath, she began to speak. At the same exact moment he did.

They paused. Nodded to each other. Paused again. Spoke in unison once more.

She giggled. He smiled.

“I’m attracted to you.” she finally blurted out. “…I heard a rumor some time ago…and it made me even more curious about you.”

“Let me guess. That I’ve been seen in a not very socially acceptable night club.”

At her nod, he continued. “That I have a dominant personality. Maybe that I get my jollies by spanking sexy women?”

She nodded. Her voice sounded a bit breathless when she said “yes, all of that. And i’ve been so very curious. I…” she hesitated. How much did she really want to share with this man, her co-worker, for gosh sake?

“Go on. You what?”


He cocked his head at her. Of all the things she could have said, that was totally unexpected.

“That’s a crazy thing to say, little Lyn.”

“Well, it’s true. Okay, it may seem like a crazy little thing. But i’m broken. And i wonder, if maybe, someone like …”

“Me, a Dom?”

“Yes, a Dom. Like you. Might….”

Her voice fell quiet. The room fell away. It was Him, and her.

“fix me?”

Their eyes locked, and a slow, sexy smile bloomed on his face.