Drenched Page 12

  She shook her head and stopped herself from pursuing that thought.

  Even if she was very quick—

  “No,” she told herself.

  Even if she was very discreet—

  She shook her head. It was insane to be thinking of such an act. The prospect of actually doing such a thing was beyond insanity. Nervously, she snapped the cap on her bottle of water and took a swig. Her hand was shaking as she put the bottle to her lips.

  The liquid more than quenched her thirst.

  She allowed it to moisten her lips. She reveled in the refreshing absence of taste. She didn’t even mind when a couple of droplets splashed from her mouth and landed on her décolletage through the open throat of her blouse. The chill of the droplets was surprisingly pleasant in the stuffy atmosphere of the radio station.

  “Yes,” moaned Lydia.

  Her voice was lowered and there was an unmistakable luster of satisfaction underscoring the exclamation. Addison was trying not to look but she couldn’t resist glancing at the woman.

  Lydia wore a broad, surprised grin. Her body trembled. After a moment’s silence, Lydia eased the base of the bottle away from her groin and took a long, leisurely swig. She finally opened her eyes and winked at Addison.

  “There are perks to working here,” Lydia said. She stood up on faltering legs, smiling self-consciously at her own lack of balance. “Stick around,” Lydia told Addison. “You might enjoy it here.”

  She dropped her empty bottle of water into a waste bin.

  “Tell Stern that I did as he asked,” she told the receptionist. “I’ll expect the change of our show’s name to be made public next week: Knight and Daye.”

  The receptionist nodded and made a note.

  Before Addison had a chance to work out what the words might mean, she realized that Knight had left the small waiting area and Daye was walking out of Stern’s office.

  As usual he looked swarthy and debonair but his swagger seemed to falter a little, as though he had heard Lydia’s parting words. There was no time to consider what she was seeing because the receptionist was pointing at her.

  “Mr. Stern will see you now.”

  Addison leapt from her seat, drained her drink and tossed the empty bottle into a bin. Before she could get into the office the receptionist was handing her a replacement bottle of mineral water. Unable to refuse, Addison took it and stepped into the room.

  The door to Stern’s office closed behind her.

  The room was large, airy and spacious.

  A long windowed wall overlooked the reception desk where she had been working. With Stern’s office and the reception area equally bright, it had been impossible to see into Stern’s office from the lobby. But, Tony had insisted, Stern was able to see everything from his vantage point.

  Addison could now see that Tony was right.

  The view from Stern’s office was a commanding one that gave him a glimpse of every corner of the lobby. It made her think of the way she had always imagined a god staring down on his worshipers. She wondered if that was how Stern felt when he stood and secretly spied on his subordinates.

  “Take a seat.”

  Obligingly, she took the seat in the chair facing his desk.

  He stood up and, not for the first time, Addison was surprised by his height. He was tall and broad and obscenely young for someone in such a responsible position. Dressed in a tailored Armani suit, charcoal gray with a white shirt and cerulean tie, Addison thought his masculine figure would look better on a bodybuilder’s beach, curling weights and pumping iron.

  When he sat on the edge of his desk, close enough for her to think he was invading her personal space, Addison was disturbed to think he smelled as good as he looked. She caught essences of citrus fruits and something sweetly honeyed. She didn’t think it was right for an employee to think her boss smelled good.

  “Sip your drink, please.” He gestured to the bottle in her hand. He licked his lips and said, “I’d like it very much if you could sip your drink whilst we talk. I’m a firm believer in the importance of hydration.”

  It was an unusual request, Addison thought. She tried not to let herself think that the command made him sound like some sort of serial killer, pervert or psycho. She couldn’t argue that the instruction made him sound weird. But she told herself it was nothing more than a quirk supported by the man’s belief in hydration. And, considering that all the Eau Naturelle adverts around the studio reiterated the benefits of hydration, she supposed it was understandable why he thought it was so important.

  Anxious to keep him happy, she twisted the cap from her bottle and sipped.

  The fluid was cool on her lips.

  She swallowed quickly, never letting her eyes drop from his.

  She was keenly conscious of her throat undulating beneath his gaze. She wondered if he had noticed the way the muscles rose and fell. She wondered if he was thinking of those other occasions when she would be likely to swallow so easily.

  Her cheeks turned crimson.

  He smiled. “You have aspirations to become a radio presenter, don’t you?”

  Addison nodded. She had told him as much when she applied for the position as the receptionist. She didn’t believe he had specifically remembered her ambitions. Either he had just re-read her file or, more likely, everyone working at the radio station had a desire to be a presenter.

  “That is a fairly common ambition around here,” Stern said, as though reading her thoughts. “Some people will do anything to get their own show.” He paused and considered her solemnly. “Some people will do anything.”

  Addison frowned.

  Was he expecting her to fuck him in exchange for a radio show?

  She had no problems with that concept. It seemed like a ridiculously easy bargain to strike. Stern was attractive and she was horny. It was like paying for a sandwich by being hungry. If she had known about this sort of arrangement earlier, Addison thought she could have saved herself the boredom of sitting at the reception desk and pretending to smile for the idiots making their way into the building.

  “I’d do anything to have my own radio show,” she admitted. She gave the word the lurid stress she believed it deserved. She licked her lips and hoped he understood what she meant. “And I do mean I would do anything.”

  Stern shook his head.

  His smile was apologetic.

  “I don’t think you quite understand,” he began patiently. “You say you’d do anything. But you think that involves … I don’t know … having my finger up your ass, or letting me fuck your mouth.”

  Addison gasped, shocked by his forthright choice of words.

  She glanced nervously around, wondering if someone had entered the room and Stern was showing off to impress the newcomer. It was disconcerting to see that they remained alone.

  “Don’t get me wrong,” Stern said. “I’m sure I’d enjoy both of those activities. And probably more. I don’t doubt your ass and your mouth are equally fuckable. But, for me, I’d want more than those trivial diversions.”

  “More?”

  Addison was doubtful. Her ass and her mouth were trivial diversions? What did that mean? And, he had mentioned her ass and her mouth: was he negotiating for access to—

  “You want my pussy?”

  He laughed softly. “If you really want a role as one of my presenters you’ll freely give me access to any orifice of your body. That’s a given.”

  She swallowed. His honesty was both disturbing and exciting. She had taken on the role of a receptionist, more than willing to exchange sexual services if it could further her career. But she hadn’t expected Stern to know that she was willing to exchange sexual services for such advancement. And, even if he did know, she had never expected him to show such poor social skills as to state the arrangement so baldly.

  “Ye
s, Mr. Stern,” she stammered.

  “I want more than your pussy,” he admitted. “I want more than your pussy, your ass or your mouth.”

  A tit-fuck? Addison thought, puzzled. Was that what he wanted? If it was only a tit-fuck it seemed like such a negligible price to pay. Or did he just want a hand-job? That was even less of a commitment. She could do that whilst updating her status on her mobile. She almost asked if he meant a hand-job or a tit-fuck.

  Stern spoke first.

  “I want your humiliation.”

  “You want my what?”

  He moved before she realized what was happening. He stood up and snatched the uncapped water bottle she’d been holding. Before Addison could react, he had splashed the contents over her crotch.

  Later, she would admire his accuracy.

  In that moment she was simply shocked.

  “Jesus,” she cried. “What the actual—”

  As she started to climb out of the chair, desperate to escape the spreading puddle of water in her lap, he knelt down by her side. One hand was on her arm. The strength he used wasn’t enormous. She knew she could pull away from him if she wanted to flee his office. But there was something deliciously liberating in simply staying beneath his hand whilst he whispered into her ear.

  “I want to bask in your humiliation,” he explained. “I want to indulge in your discomfort. I want to thrill in your experience of sexual embarrassment.”

  She could feel her heartbeat quickening.

  Stern had seemed desirable before. Now he was acting as though he could be dangerous. It was a trait that made him infinitely more appealing. She struggled not to melt into the chair.

  “Humiliation?” she asked doubtfully.

  “Your crotch is piss-wet from front to back.”

  When he said the words, Addison realized for the first time how accurate his aim had been. He had hurled the water at her lap and the fluid had struck precisely over her pussy. She was sitting on the leather seat in his office, obscenely conscious of the chilly pool of wetness that flooded her inner thighs.

  Her seat was soaked.

  Her cotton panties were fat and swollen with excess liquid.

  She was acutely aware of every saturated sensation that touched her sex. With Stern holding her arm and staring into her eyes it was almost as though the man was idly teasing the lips of her labia by thought alone. That concept was enough to make her clitoris pulse against the wet threads of her sodden underwear.

  “Your crotch is piss-wet from front to back,” he said again. “And, when you walk out of this office, you’ll be painfully aware that everyone is staring at your crotch. You’ll be painfully aware that everyone is thinking that you either wet yourself, or you got so excited you squirted.”

  Addison blushed.

  She wanted to tell him that he was talking bullshit. She wanted to say that no one would ever think such things when it would be obvious that the station manager had simply poured a bottle of mineral over her lap because he was a pervert that got off on such weird abuse.

  But she knew no one would give credence to her version of events.

  She remembered what she had thought when she saw Zoe’s soaked crotch. She had wondered if the scary bitch was incontinent, or merely creaming herself. Miserably, Addison realized that the only difference between her humiliation and the one that Zoe had suffered was the fact that Zoe had a reputation for being a scary bitch. Addison didn’t even have that reputation to help her stave the wagging tongues that would begin gossiping about what might have happened.

  Angry, she tried to pull away.

  Stern held her firm.

  “This is one of the key humiliations I expect from my radio presenters,” he said. “And, if you can spend the rest of the day doing your job on reception with that wet spot on your skirt, I’ll let you share a studio with Zoe tonight.”

  She stared at him and tried to feign incredulity. “Do you really think I’d be interested in such a repulsive proposition?”

  He laughed. “You’re trying to bluff me. I like that.”

  “I’m not trying to bluff any—”

  She didn’t get to finish.

  Stern put a finger on her lips and shook his head.

  “Don’t say another word. Just go back to your desk and endure your embarrassment for the rest of the day. If you still want to be a radio presenter when it’s six o’clock, you can come in here, suck my cock, and I’ll let you share the studio with Zoe.”

  The air in the room had turned to electricity.

  She was having difficulty breathing as the increased excitement made her acutely aware of the arousal that Stern generated. She glowered at him through heavily lidded eyes, wishing she didn’t find him so attractive and loathing the fact that he was able to make her yearn for the unpleasantness he was offering.

  “If you’re not bluffing,” Stern continued, “I’ll let you leave here now. You can go home and start the tribunal complaint for sexual harassment.”

  She regarded him sceptically.

  He shrugged. “I’ll contest your claim by pretending that you spilt the water in your lap. I’ll be able to provide testimony evidence from two witnesses who saw the accident happen. They’ll also explain that your reaction was surprisingly volatile.”

  “You unconscionable bastard.”

  He nodded. “I’m an unconscionable bastard who’ll see you here just after six tonight.” Then he was pushing a clear bottle of water into her hand and escorting her out of the office.

  The receptionist glanced up as Addison walked out.

  She immediately saw the large damp stain that darkened Addison’s skirt, and she rolled her eyes and shook her head.

  Addison could feel her cheeks coloring hot pink. She opened her mouth to explain that it wasn’t what it looked like. Then she remembered what lay in the balance if she did say those words.

  She lowered her gaze, tried to cover the stain with her hands, and hurried out of the room. Rushing down the stairs she was conscious of the weight of her panties. The gusset was sodden. The fabric pulled at her. Every movement made her aware that her sex was wet. Every moment of awareness reminded her that she was scheduled to return to Stern’s office at six o’clock and suck his cock.

  Her stomach cramped with an unexpected pang of excitement.

  When she arrived back in the lobby she glanced back up at the opaque window on Stern’s office. She wondered if he was behind the glass now, smirking down at her and enjoying her discomfort. Or perhaps he had someone else in his office and he was forcing them to endure a repeat of the humiliation he had visited upon her.

  She didn’t know which option was more exciting.

  The inner muscles of her sex clutched and clenched as though she was already in the clasp of an orgasm. Shaking, she reached the front desk and hurried to get back to her seat before Tony had a chance to notice that she—

  “Oh my fucking god!” Tony gasped. “You’ve pi—”

  “Don’t say another word,” she warned.

  She squelched into her seat behind the reception desk and folded her legs. The movement made her conscious of her wet pussy. At the same time she was conscious of Tony studying her with a series of awkward, sideways glances.

  “Are you ok?”

  Her cheeks had been pink before. Now they were the color of tomatoes.

  “Never better.”

  “You … I mean …” He was pointing at her. One wagging finger kept dipping toward the direction of her lap. “You …”

  “Never better,” she insisted.

  When the phone rang she answered it so swiftly the caller was surprised to find her there. Every phone call that came through to the desk was another sublime excuse that saved her from the embarrassment of having to talk with Tony and avoid discussing what had happened in Stern’s office. She che
erfully greeted the remainder of the afternoon’s visitors with a disarming smile and a focus of attention that didn’t allow them to shift their gaze from her eyes. She did everything within her power to stop herself from thinking about the syrupy cooling wetness that lingered between her legs. She wouldn’t dwell on the idea that, if she spent a dedicated minute in the station’s lavatories, she could wring out the happy that her body desperately needed.

  Her cheeks darkened at the idea. She told herself that she wasn’t tempted.

  “Ten points to you,” Tony said eventually.

  She scowled at him.

  He was pointing at the clear water bottle that had been given to her by Stern’s receptionist. “You’ve decided it’s the best way to win this game, haven’t you? You’re bringing your own points to the game.”

  She could hear the forced cheer in his voice.

  “Yes,” she agreed. “Ten points to me.”

  “Did you know there’s some wetness on your skirt?”

  She clenched her teeth. “Yes, Tony. I know there’s some wetness there.”

  “Did it happen in Stern’s office?”

  Not trusting herself to voice the words, Addison nodded.

  “That happens to me, sometimes,” Tony admitted. His cheeks turned crimson as he studied the floor, and Addison knew he wasn’t joking. “Stern frightens a lot of people in that way.”

  She stood up and left the reception desk.

  Ignoring Tony’s calls of protest, not wanting to listen to him for another moment, she headed out of the main doors toward the station’s smoking area. Addison no longer smoked, but she suddenly relished the opportunity to stand with the outcasts of the smoking community and embrace their role as pariahs. She was feeling like a pariah herself.

  One of the smokers glanced at the wet patch in the center of her skirt and silently handed her a cigarette.

  Addison accepted the smoke with a mumbled thank you.

  Was this what she really wanted? The humiliation part was fun, she supposed. But the idea of working under the regime of a dictatorial boss was not something she had ever envied. Admittedly, she had been prepared to fuck Stern if it meant he would give her a position as a radio presenter. But she wasn’t happy that he was blatantly using that knowledge to satisfy his own sick and sadistic appetites. It took the edge off her using that bargaining chip to help further her career.