A Thousand Days Of Dagger

I'm a total cliché at my desk reading Fifty Shades of Grey, late on a Thursday afternoon at Monumental Movies. It's pouring rain and the sky outside is dank with heavy clouds, a rarity in LA that sets the mood just right. My boss, Dalton, has been out of the office most of the day and I'm bored shitless, per usual. I finished most of my work before lunch and I'm sick of cyber stalking, so I'm reading this trash novel. It's all the rage right now. The studios are in a bidding war over the movie rights. The winner will make Hollywood history by granting the writer full creative control and an ungodly sum to option the book. She'll be coming to Monumental next week to hear our pitch. We're gonna roll out the red carpet and sweet talk the crap out of her, so I must school myself on this hot new property, or at least feign interest. Honestly, the book doesn't impress me, or maybe I'm jealous; I think I could do better, but instead I'm a god damn assistant.

Anastasia is oh, so deliciously wet for Christian and her inner goddess is flooding out of her as she pulls him deeper into her mouth so she can feel him at the back of her ... yawn! I'm bored, but I'm also horny as fuck because I haven't fucked in way too long, so I'll let my pussy pulse for this pathetic prose.

My on-again-off-again-ex and I broke up last month for the tenth time and I'm stuck on wanting to fuck him and only him, while God knows who the fuck he's out there fucking. He's a mind-fuck of a man and a writer who actually works here at the studio, too. When we are on-again, I run across the lot on my lunch breaks, sneak into his office, slip out of my panties, and wait for him with my legs spread on his white leather sofa. He steals a few minutes away from the writers' room, joins me in his office; locks the door and mounts me. He shoves his big fat fingers hard into my pussy and fucks the shit out of me like that until I'm just about to cum all over his knuckles. He yanks his hand out of me, unzips his pants and shoves his huge, hard cock into my hole with one swift, painful stab.

"Ahh," I moan, "it hurts so fucking good, fuck me hard, baby, fuck me deep, don't stop."

"Shh," he commands and covers my mouth with his hand, which only makes me want him to fuck me harder, and makes me want to scream his name so all his colleagues know we're fucking in his office.

I suck my sweetness off his fingers while his cock splits me apart and gets me to cum quick all over him as he thrusts into me deep and fast. It only takes a few more pumps to get his dick to fill me up with cum while my pussy throbs and convulses around his shaft. He can be efficient when he has to, or he can fuck all night long; which fuels my addiction. He pulls out of me, zips up, glances in the mirror and heads back to the writers' room. I slip my panties back on and they become soaked as I walk across the lot back to my office. It was our little ritual, but I haven't seen him in 33 days. I'm dying.

Anyhow, I lied before. I said I only want to fuck my ex, but that's not entirely true. I want to fuck my boss in the worst way. Who doesn't? In fact, my ex used to flip the fuck out and accuse me of wanting to fuck my boss all the time. Why? Well, my boss is the head creative at the biggest movie studio in the world and my ex is a second rate writer on a third rate TV show. My boss makes or breaks guys like my ex with the flip of his Montblanc pen. Power. He's got so much fucking power and swagger and damn he's a fucking smoke show. My ex ain't half bad himself, but he ain't Dalton Dagger. Nobody is Dalton Dagger, except Dalton Dagger.

Dalton is one of the most eligible bachelors in fucking Hollywood. I'm not kidding. And he always has a hot ass girlfriend hanging on his jock. I've worked for Dalton for nearly three years and he is on his third girlfriend. He's got a revolving door policy. He can usually stand them for about a year before he finds a way to sabotage the relationship and blame the sobbing mess of a girlfriend. He acts extra love struck with this one, like she's 'the one.' I'll admit this one is gorgeous, but you know what? She's also dumb as a mother fucking rock. I want to shake Dalton and yell in his beautiful, chiseled face, "Come the fuck on! Are you fucking kidding me with this airhead?" but no.

Anyhow, I'm just about so fucking bored with Fifty Shades of Grey I think I will lose my mind when Microsoft Office dings to let me know I have an email. It's Dalton.

To: Natasha.Tate@monumental.com

From: Dalton.Dagger@monumental.com

3:54 pm

Hey N, I'm heading home. Gonna work from there for the rest of the eve. Ready to roll a few calls around 5:30. I'll ring you. Messenger scripts and email updated call sheet before you leave. You can take off at six. How's Fifty Shades coming? Looking especially forward to your notes on that one. Talk soon. DD

To: Dalton.Dagger@monumental.com

From: Natasha.Tate@monumental.com

3:55 pm

Roger that! I'll be awaiting your ring. Fifty Shades is ... coming well. Notes by end of day tomorrow. N

I lean back in my chair and glance at the time on my computer screen. I have two hours to kill before I can blow this place and go for drinks. I have a love-hate relationship with whether or not I like it when my boss is away. I mean, shit, who doesn't like when the boss is away? But, then again, I crush so fucking hard on Dalton, I'm always yearning to be in his presence. I can't get enough of him. And, was he insinuating anything with the Fifty Shades comment? Flirting? Or, am I projecting? I try not to read into much when it comes to Dalton. He's my boss, after all, and besides, he falls head over heels for bimbos, so I can't imagine I'm his type.

Fifty Shades has me just hot enough. Now that I'm alone for the rest of the afternoon, I'm gonna utilize my time productively. I get up from my desk and glance down the hall. It's pretty quiet out there, so I close and lock the door. I grab my purse from beneath my desk, head into Dalton's office and lock the door behind me. He's the only other one with keys to both our offices, aside from facilities, and the janitors, but they don't come around till seven or eight pm. I've got plenty of time.

Dalton's office feels like home to me. When the dog's away the pussy will play. I open his mini bar and select an airplane bottle of Grey Goose vodka, crack it open and pour it down my throat. I shake off the chills as they run down my body, open Dalton's top drawer and slide a Treasurer Luxury Black cigarette out of a pack. They're only the most expensive cigarettes in the world; I know because I order them for him. Occasionally I bum one and if Dalton notices, well, he never says a word. I crack the window open and the falling rain splatters against the panes as I light up with Dalton's Cartier gold plated lighter. I take a couple puffs blowing smoke rings out into the rain toward the sound stages in the distance. I leave the window cracked, but twist shut the mahogany blinds. I flip on Dalton's state of the art turntable and set the needle on the last vinyl he played. Chet Baker's trumpet on 'Alone Together' whales plaintively and fills the room with sensual jazzy vibes that underscore the scene perfectly because they remind me of Dalton. I pluck my small but powerful vibrator from my purse, take another rich drag off my cig and set it in the onyx ashtray on Daltons' desk.

I dim the lights and sink into the overstuffed, heated Shiatsu massage recliner chair behind the desk. It's a ridiculously plush office chair only Dalton would ordain appropriate for work. Who the hell could be productive sitting in this thing? Oh, he's such a spoiled ass baby. Not only does the studio pay him millions, he comes from a distinguished entertainment family, so only the best of the best for him, and for me by virtue. I push buttons on the remote and the chair heats up instantly and goes to work on my lower back. This is the life.

A gold framed, dramatically posed black and white photograph of Dalton and Daisy, yes, his dumb as a doorknob girlfriend is named Daisy, glares at me from his desk. I perch it right in front of me, slip my dress over my head and fling it across the room, so it flies through the jazz infused air onto the couch. I'm naked but for my Louboutin spiked heels and lacy black lingerie I know Dalton would love because he's had me order the same shit for Daisy. I pull my panties taut to the side, so they cut right into my cunt, power on my pocket rocket full blast and nestle it right on top of my clit. Fuck it! I'm going for it! I drag off the cigarette and blow rings at Dalton & Daisy's smiling faces while I spin the vibrator in tiny circles on my clit, softly at first, then harder and faster, ah, fuck, my clit twitches and my pussy throbs, yearning for Dalton's cock something fierce. I wish I had my dildo, but, shit, man, I don't normally carry that thing around in my purse at work. Maybe I should start.

I set the cigarette in the ashtray and let it burn out expensively. I spin my frenzied fingers around on my clit and drag the vibrator down to my hole; it's small but it will do the trick. I slide the gyrating vibrator in and out of my hole. My pussy grabs at the vibrator tightly, hungrily, not wanting to let it go, yearning to fuck it like it's Dalton's cock. I'm going wild. I want to fuck so badly; as my eyes drill into the photo of Dalton and his airheaded bitch, I fantasize about Dalton's cock, oh, man, I bet it's fucking beautiful. Chet's trumpet tones dance more playfully on 'How High The Moon.' The vibrator slides in and out of my wet pussy, my fingers go nuts on my clit and Dalton's exquisite face taunts me; so I call out to him like I've done many nights alone in my bedroom.

"Dalton, ah, Dalton, put your beautiful cock in my mouth, I want to suck you slow and wet, I want to run my tongue all over your head, Dalton ..."

My insides throb recklessly, so I push the vibrator deeper into my pussy, recline in Dalton's plush chair and close my eyes, "Dalton," I breathe heavily, "Dalton..."

I'm leaning so far back in Dalton's chair, my Louboutins now perched on the edge of his desk, my legs spread and my vibrator working overtime in my pussy. "It Never Entered My Mind" fills the room just loudly enough to distract me from the sound of a key turning in the lock on Dalton's door. It's not that I don't hear it, I do, but it blends in with the ambiance, and I'm lost in it.

"Dalton, fill my mouth with your cock. I've never wanted to suck a cock so badly in my life," I hear myself say, as the sound of the door closing and locking yanks me out of my den of desire. My eyes fly open, I lean forward in the chair and I'm staring across the room at, by far, the biggest, most shit-eating grin I've ever seen spread across Dalton's gorgeous lips.

"Dalton!" I screech, "Oh, my God! I'm so sorry!"

I move to take my feet off his desk, but he commands, "Stop! Don't move! You're fucking perfect right where you are."

On cue, all four of our eyes drag down to my gaping gash with the vibrator buzzing inside of it. "Holy fuck!" he says, dropping his designer satchel into a heap on the floor. "You're even more fucking perfect than I've imagined. "Look at that gorgeous pussy."

Without moving his eyes from my pussy, he walks backward to the mini bar. "Keep doing what you were doing when I interrupted," he commands, kicking off his shoes. "I'm your boss and you better do what you're told or you're in big trouble."

He grabs two airplane bottles of Grey Goose, cracks one open and pours it down his throat, a man after my own heart. He sets the other on the desk and unbuttons his shirt hurriedly. I stare into his golden eyes as I continue to work the vibrator in and out of my pussy, "Fill my mouth with your cock, Dalton," I whisper in a raspy tone; shocked this is actually happening. "I want to suck the cum out of your cockhead."

"What else do you want?" he drops his pants to the floor and unleashes the most beautiful gilded rod I've ever seen. My eyes bulge as he takes his shaft in his hand and strokes it till it grows bolder and more beautiful. It's not a beast of a cock like my ex's, but it's sturdy and well sculpted and gleaming. It's perfect.

"I want to suck your head, hard," I say more bravely, "I want to stroke your shaft and swallow your cum."

"What else," he demands.

"I want to feel your cum hit the back of my throat," I borrow the concept from Fifty Shades as my pussy pounds for Dalton. I slide the vibrator out of my hole, bring it to my mouth and lick my juices slowly off of it, staring into Dalton's eyes.

"That's right," he says, "and what else do you want? Don't be shy, you can tell me, baby," he cracks open the second vodka and strides toward me.

"I want you to fill my gash with your cock," I whimper, as he takes the vibrator out of my hand and throws it across the room. "That's right," he says, "You've been dreaming about my cock for three years, haven't you?" he pours the vodka down my throat, bends down and kisses me hard. Vodka burns on our tongues. He sucks my lips hungrily and feigns anger, "You've been smoking my cigarettes again, haven't you?"

"Yes," I say defiantly.

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, sir."

"You've been naughty," he spins the vibrating chair so my feet slip off the desk and my legs dangle wide open in the air. "I know you want me to fill your mouth with my cock," he says, "and I know you want me to cram my cock into your little gash, even more, but first you need to be punished," he kneels in front of me, yanks my panties further to the side, brings his fat, vodka-drenched lips to my pussy and sucks so hard blood rushes to the surface of my lips and they quiver in his mouth. He inserts his tongue into my cunt and I feel myself spill all over his taste buds.

"Oh, fuck, you're sweet," he moans, licking up my juices, "give me more, baby, give me more."

He sucks me violently between words and my raw pulsating pussy gives completely over to him. "Oh, fuck, you're like candy," he groans like he's in pain, scoops me off the chair and pulls me under the desk.

He covers my body heavily with his and kisses me more passionately than I ever imagined. He reaches for his stunning cock and guides it between my legs. He jabs me softly a few times first, to ready my pussy for him, before driving all the way inside of me. He encircles me with strong arms, cradling the back of my head as he fucks me powerfully, gently, skillfully; he thrusts deeply into me, hitting my sweet spot dead-on.

"Is this what you need, Tashy?" he calls me by the pet name he uses only on rare occasion when he asks me to perform a task outside my scope of duty, like ordering lingerie for Daisy.

"Yes," I scream out a whisper, "yes, yes."

"Tell me exactly what you need," he tugs the back of my hair and it shoots an exhilarating surge through me. "You're the boss, now."

"Suck my tits," I command and he rips my bra straps off my shoulders revealing perfect breasts and erect nipples standing at attention for him. He sucks my nipples so hard they feel like they may bleed and my pussy gushes.

"What else?" he commands with his teeth clenched around my nipple.

I grab a handful of his hair and yank his head back, "I need your cock to fuck me deeper, Dalton," my voice comes out stronger now, "I need your cock to fuck me till I cum. I need to drown your cock in my cum," I pull him into me with every ounce of my strength, like I can't get close enough, digging my nails into his back, "fuck me harder, Dalton, rip me apart."

"Good girl," he says and fucks me harder. "How long have you needed it, baby?" he moans in my ear.

"A thousand days. I've needed your cock for a thousand days."

"And I've needed your pussy a thousand days, too. Are you gonna let that beautiful pussy cum on me, baby, huh?"

"Yes, I'm gonna cum all over your cock."

"How hard you gonna cum, baby?"

"I'm gonna explode," I'm gripping his cock tightly with my pussy, to keep myself from cumming. "I'm gonna fucking explode all over you."

"That's it, baby, strangle my cock with that beautiful pussy. We're gonna keep fucking till we cum, are we gonna come together, baby?"

"Yes, I wanna cum together. I need to cum with you, Dalton, I need you to fill me up."

"Are we ready, baby?" he asks. "Are we ready to cum?"

"Yes, we're ready," I let my pussy muscles relax and an orgasm surges through me. "I'm cumming. Are you cumming?" I ask, even though I feel him cumming; I wanna hear it.

"Yes, baby, I'm filling you up."

Dalton and I explode into each other, groaning ecstatically, like two people who've been working professionally for three years with a huge pink elephant in the office; two people who know each other intimately and yet not at all; two people who have needed to crawl under the desk and fuck for years and who finally just did.

We're silent for a beat after we've finished and, instead of rolling over and disengaging from me, Dalton leans down and kisses me tenderly and it takes my breath. He pulls his lips from mine and looks into my eyes and says, "We're gonna greenlight the shit out of Fifty Shades. You know that, right?"

"No doubt," I concur, "things are about to get interesting, and it's not the book."

"No, it's not the book. Truth is far better than fiction at Monumental Movies," he puts on his best movie trailer voice and I laugh.

The vibrator buzzes in the corner of the room, the massager runs up and down the chair behind the desk, and the needle on the record player, having reached the end of the A-side, scratches at vinyl. Rain pours.

I am no longer bored.