He strode into his office and stopped dead in his tracks. He stared around the space that had, up until this morning, been as familiar as his own loft. His desk was moved. His tables and chairs were moved, his every-fucking-thing, moved. Very little surprised or shocked him these days, but this new girl of his was continually upping the ante on that. And hell, he could admit that he loved opening his drawers and finding what he needed, whether it was a pen that worked, or his phone charger. He loved knowing that if he gave her a to-do list, it would be done to a T. In less than two weeks, she’d already organized the fuck out of his office, including the offices of two under-secretaries. Hell, if he turned her lose, she’d probably reorganize the entire structure of his offices.
But this. This was a step over the lines. This was his space. His sanctum. He looked around the space again. The chairs had been moved to what was obviously a less imposing conversation area.
But dammit! He liked being imposing.
Still, it did open up the space, and took advantage of the incredible view of the city-scape.
“I figured that since you paid a lot of money for that view, you’d like to actually enjoy seeing it more than twice a day.”
Her voice came from behind him. He glanced over his shoulder, a frown still furrowing his brows. He noted that she wore red today, a color not many redheads even attempted.
“You’re not supposed to wear red,” he said.
“Is that a company policy? Because it’s stupid.”
My how her tongue had loosened in the last 13 days. Drawing a deep breath for patience, he turned fully to her.
“It’s a fashion rule. Redheads don’t wear red.”
“All evidence to the contrary,” she said, swooping her arm from tits to hip.
He could barely look anywhere else but those amazing tits. No cleavage, not for his little prude. But the dress hid no curves.
“Not many would be so bold to wear red, no matter the hair color.”
“Why, because I’m a bit chubby?”
He rolled his eyes.
“Why are we having this conversation? No. Not because you’re soft and stacked. Because red is a bold color. But now that I’m hearing your sassy mouth, I can see that perhaps it’s a color well suited to you.”
“I don’t know why~ you brought it up in the first place. And besides, you haven’t said anything about your office.” She ignored his “soft and stacked” as if he’d never said it, unwilling to go down that road with him.
“Perhaps because I was struck mute. By your audacity…”
He paused, watching her nostrils flare. Her temper had yet to be fully prodded, though it was tempting. And her chest heaved as she drew a deep breath herself. Holy hell, he thought, those tits…
Just as she was opening her mouth to speak, he interrupted her.
“…and your vision.”
She drew herself up, fully prepared to defend herself. Yet his words punctured any argument that she was preparing.
“So,” she said, her tone somewhat bemused by the quick change of mood. “You do like it?”
“I do. I see the advantage of the desk being backed up to the bookcases. I can look out the window when I’m on the phone, yet still see who’s at the doorway.”
“Well, you’d know that anyway, since I’d not let anyone through without informing you.”
That too was true. He’d had no interrupted meetings solving temper tantrums and various crises. He nodded absently, walking around the room. He opened the drawer that faced his chair in the round-table form of the conversation area. Inside where pens had previously wrangled for space with elastics, sticky notes, and half-full packets of gum, now there was an organizer inside. Pens which he was certain had all been tested by her, rested in several compartments. Sticks of gum had been removed from their box but lay, still wrapped, in a long bowl which may have had prior use as a corn-on-the-cob dish. Paper clips were in a magnetic holder, and sticky notes were likewise in an appropriate bin. It took just a moment for him to look at an organized, efficient system that might have taken her hours to fix for him.
“You really have wrought wonders in here,” he said quietly.
“Thank you Sir,” she said.
Oh, he really liked it when she addressed him as Sir. If only he could lay her across his lap and have her say it when he was spanking that lusciously padded bottom.
“Come, sit a moment,” he said, gesturing to the chair nearest to his.
“I need to get back out there and prepare your agenda for the day.”
“Sit,” he ordered, in his quietly firm Dom voice. He watched her carefully, reading her body as intently he would the latest financial reports. He’d tried this on her several times, each with the same result. He was sure she was a submissive. Her breath had a little catch to it, he noted, as she complied immediately. He wondered if her pussy got wet when he spoke to her that way. An interesting thing to ponder. He moved to sit beside her, watching the way she watched him, a hint of nerves and perhaps a bit of anticipation.
Interesting indeed, he mused.