Mr. Roth stares at me, his eyes never once straying down to my tits, which are still on display for him.
“Miss…” he begins, then stops himself. I pray silently that he doesn’t try to use my real name here. His eyes search mine, his thick eyebrows furrowed.
After a heavy moment, he finally says, “I would enjoy a drink,Velvet.”
I put a hand on his back, gentle and inviting. “Tell me what you want, sir, and it’s all yours.”
CHAPTER
TWO
VINCENT
I’ve heard rumors about the secret lounge under Octavio’s for some time, but it had never truly interested me before. I am a wealthy orc, with decent looks and at least a modicum of charm when I turn it on. Finding someone to fondle or fuck has never been an issue for me if I actively look for it.
But I haven’t looked in a long time, not since I hired Ms. Kristoff.
Rosette. I would never say it out loud, her first name. I think I’d get an erection instantly if I did. No, since the moment I brought her on—my little blonde human assistant, with her bigeyes and soft makeup—I can’t think about anyone else.
I jack off every morning and night to the thought of her, to the image of her big tits straining the buttons of her silk blouse, her toned ass moving with every stride under her skirt. It’s never too short, never a question of her professionalism, and yet it’s deeply erotic to see the clear outline of each ass cheek, even the indent where her thong underwear wraps around her plump hips.
Everything about her is goddamned perfect. She’s small by virtue of being human, but for a human, she has meat on her, just the right amount. She wouldn’t break under my big hands, and she might even be able to take my cock if I taught her body how.
But I can’t have Ms. Kristoff. I will never give her what she wants, not while she works for me. It’s too much of a hassle, too big of an HR nightmare. And until recently, I’ve survived the way she shows off all her incredible assets, simply begging me to reach out and squeeze that marvelous butt. It’s been two years now since bringing her on, which is two years since I’ve had sex with anyone. Sometimes it feels like my dick’s going to fall off.
Still, I’d never fire her. It would be impossible to find someone else who knows how to do her job as well as she does it—silently, with laser precision. Ms. Kristoff knows my mind, what I want out of her, and she executes it without requiring intervention or correction.
Today though, I finally reached my limit. After she showed off what she has between her legs, bare and exposed for my eyes, all I wanted was to grab her and plant her on my lap, rip off her skirt, unzip my pants and bury my cock in her. The need became so overwhelming when she said goodbye that I realized…
I needed to move on with my life. I needed to get some kind of relief with a warm body and try to banish this obsession from my mind, because it will never go anywhere as long as Ms. Kristoff works for me. I can’t have her, no matter how soft and delectable her pussy looked between her toned thighs.
So tonight, I decided to give up on her once and for all and do something about this insatiable hunger. Octavio’s is well-known for their discretion, and visiting will save me the trouble of trying to pick someone up at a bar to quench my physical needs. Relationships are far toocomplicated when all I need is one night to get it out of my system.
I thought that’s what I was here for until I looked up and sawher.
It’s Ms. Kristoff all right, here in Octavio’s, and she’s wearing the shortest skirt I’ve ever seen in my life. A revealing corset top holds up her significant breasts, and her nipples are just barely visible. It’s more skin than I’ve ever seen on her.
It’s not just her body I find arresting. She’s wearing dramatic dark makeup, with a black wig on top of it all. Gone is the blonde hair pulled back in a tight bun, and now she has dark hair cropped at her jawline. She’s even colored her naturally light brows darker to match.
I notice everything when it comes to my assistant. I have her memorized, and these small shifts and changes have unnerved me beyond reason.
Glancing at the drink menu again, I’m so disconcerted that I pick something at random. “I’ll have the Bombay Special.”
Fuck. What am I saying? I don’t want that. I just want a martini with two olives, but seeing Ms. Kristoff here, where I least expected her, has switched off my brain.
“Yes, sir,” she says, smiling broadly. She’s recovered from her surprise and now plays the flawless hostess. I admire how easily she slips into her nighttime persona.
How long has she worked here? How many other clients have touched her, maybe even been inside her? The thought sparks a searing flame as Ms. Kristoff—no,Velvet—turns around and departs with my drink order.
When she was simply my assistant, I could ignore the idea of what she did after hours. It was none of my business. In my mind, she vanished from existence the moment she left my sight. I tried, and succeeded, in never thinking about what her personal life might entail because it would only serve to infuriate me if I imagined her with a boyfriend or girlfriend. She wears no wedding ring, at least, so I always had that.
But here, knowing what the girls do as part of their work, I burn with the fire of an imploding sun. Now I can’t help picturing her on top of one of those old men sitting nearby, moaning as she’s filled, and I want to flip over the fucking table and then shatter it into matchsticks.
I could if I wanted, but I manage to stay inmy seat, stewing and steaming the entire time that Velvet is gone.
What a name to choose.
Am I not paying her enough? Why would she feel the need to take a second job? I’ve seen where she lives, and it’s not as if it’s out of her price range. She’s in an apartment building on the lower end, one that should be perfectly affordable on her salary.
