Chapter 2 - ... At the Office
Camille Yan didn't know what overcame her. What urged her to so boldly announce her interest in a man, any man. To feel him up under the table and furthermore, to fuck him in public for an entire room full of people to find out. She had certainly never done anything like that before. Sure, she'd had sex. — What lunatic loses their virginity on stage? But she'd never done it so publicly. She'd never done it in public at all, for that matter. And so that night at the Fundraiser was certainly the wildest night of her life.
And now she sat in her spacious office. It was well-appointed with chic furniture that screamed feminine elegance from the pale walls and plush carpeting to the eclectic yet still tasteful sculptures and trinkets that dotted her bookshelves. A fresh pot of tea had even been placed beside her favorite, overstuffed chaise. But Camille didn't want to lounge. She wanted to feel in control. So she chose to sit at her desk instead. But even there, with the fabrics and colors laid out before her, she couldn't focus on her work and she found her mind drifting back to that night once again. In fact, she hadn't been able to
stop
thinking about that evening.
She wasn't too nervous. The game had been rigged, after all, so that she could win. Camille had made sure of that. There was no way she was letting that thieving Desert Outfitters pair win even more money off of her family's hard work. But she had just broken up with another boyfriend. Another failed attempt at a relationship.
Her parents, as always, nagged Camille about how she was getting too old to stay unmarried and how all of the other 'good' Korean daughters would have given them grandchildren by now. They had arranged date after date, pairing her with the sons of other influential businessmen. But to her parents' dismay, nothing ever came to fruition. They were too handsy or too arrogant. Too meek or too boring. None of them ever held her attention for long.
The nagging was worse this time around, though. Her cousin, Eun-jay, was getting married. Actually, Eun-jay was getting married to one of the wealthy men that Camille had already previously turned down.
That bitch
, Camille thought. They had never gotten along, even as children. It only got worse as they grew older and the other young folks in their wealthy circles began to whisper about her. She knew the rumors. 'Neunui Yeowang' they called her. The Snow Queen. And Camille knew that it was her cousin that started it.
Normally? Camille didn't care one lick about all the rumors. She knew that she was intelligent, that she was just as ruthless in business as her father and that her designs brought in millions of won for her family. But she really
was
getting older. And Eun-jay's pending marriage hurt.
Even if she only got my leftovers
.
So she had taken special care that evening. Camille had made that gown with her own hands, so she knew that it would flatter her. It hugged in all the right places, leaving just enough to the imagination that her lack of hated underwear wouldn't be noticed. And its deep blue color made her complexion look radiant. The many looks and glances she got throughout the evening bolstered her self-esteem and gave her some much needed backbone to face the rest of the night.
But Ned had stared for far too long than was appropriate. Surely, her parents had noticed? And suddenly, she felt shy. Camille hadn't felt shy with any boyfriend or man her parents had set her up with in such a long time. It was almost a challenge to her then, to stop blushing. So she started with the soft whispers and the little touches that grew more and more bold. She soon found that those touches and his responses were arousing her too and before she knew it, she was telling him to give it to her right there on stage.
God, it had been so long since she'd had sex. And Ned's cock felt so good that she...
Damn. I'm wet again,
Camille thought.
She could feel her skirt damp beneath her as she squirmed in her office chair, having lost herself in the same fantasy as she had been the past few days. Even her assistant, May, had mentioned how little attention Camille had for even the most menial of tasks lately, from signing papers to sitting in on meetings. Her eyes would glaze over everytime she began to think of that evening.
Ten minutes until the next meeting. I have time.
Camille slipped open the top three buttons of her blouse, sliding a hand inside of her thin bralette. She felt herself grow even wetter as soon as her fingers found her sensitive nipple. Even as she toyed with it, she worked at hiking her pencil skirt up around her hips. Thank god for high slits that season.
Camille was never good at waiting for her pleasure though. Kicking off her heels, she brought one foot up onto her office chair and spread herself vulgarly, plunging two, well-manicured fingers inside her sopping slit. And then again, and again. She excelled at everything she had ever put her mind to and this was no exception. Her head fell back against her chair as she closed her eyes, imagining Ned filling her, fucking her, cumming in her. It wasn't even two minutes and she could feel herself growing close to release. Another harder twist of her nipple had her moaning a little louder, her hips bucking against her hand.
So close.
Then the door slammed shut. She hadn't even heard it open!
Camille's eyes flew wide open. In a flurry, she was slamming her foot back down, smoothing at her skirt and pulling her hand out of her shirt in a rush of half-movements that really did nothing to right her appearance or even hide what it was she was doing. She was so busted. And to top it off, she couldn't even see who it was that had found her in such a compromising position yet. It was a glasses sort of day. Male, that much she knew. Not her father. Her father never carried a briefcase.
Thank goodness for small favors.
"Where the fuck are my glasses?!" she exclaimed as she tried to blink into focus, sweeping an arm across her desk in a blind grope. She saw the blur of a man come closer, heard his footsteps. And then his hand came into view as he neatly plucked her glasses off her desk and pressed them into her palm. Jamming the tortoiseshell rims onto her face, she looked up and paled.
Immediately, Camille stiffened, drawing herself upright. Coolly, she stared down her nose at him. Well, as much as she could being a head shorter on her bare feet. "You aren't my two o'clock. And even if you were, you're... " She glanced at the clock. "Three minutes early."
It was Ned. He was smartly dressed in a slate grey suit, a silver tie and a crisp, white shirt loosened just enough to show a sliver of soft throat.
Stylish, actually,
she thought.