Good morning, Mr. Gill. Which item on the agenda would you like to go over first?" I sat in my office chair and yawned at my reflection in my glass of orange juice. 7:00 am was not my friend. "Uh, lets begin with the status of the renovations on my properties." I'm Donovan Gill, nice to meet you. I own a small but lucrative real estate firm that I run out of my home. I came to realize in my second year that misplacing contracts and missing meetings was bad for business, so I needed an assistant. I'd asked around with my contacts and done some independent research, and one name consistently came up: Catherine H. Storm. She's pricey, but her reputation is more than well earned.
She's pretty firm about separating her personal and professional life, but I've learned a little after 3 years working with her. She's 34, about 5'10", originally from Minnesota and maybe 130 pounds or so with strong Scandinavian features. She earned an MBA and a PhD in psychology by the time she was 25, she enjoys wine and italian food, owns a husky, stays fit with Krav Maga and goes to a shooting range occasionally. She allows herself a few vanities: manicures, pedicures and a touch of lipstick. The combination of which, on her near flawless skin, have this quiet sexiness about them.
Catherine (or Cathy, as I secretly call her in my head) always wears her brunette hair in a loose bun held together with a Cross pen when she's working. Today she was wearing a black pinstriped blazer with a matching skirt (cut just above the knee) and a silky white blouse, more or less her usual outfit. There were a few twists today, though; she had on these dark pantyhose with a seam on the back, black high heels and a hint of this intoxicating perfume that smelled like lilacs. She sat a few feet back from my desk, leaned back slightly, legs crossed and dangling her shoe off her right foot, making little circles in the air. God, I was getting harder by the second.
"...travertine countertops are slightly delayed due to a...Mr. Gill, I can come back when you're less...distracted." Quickly darting my eyes up, I saw she was shooting me a slightly annoyed look over the gold, circular frames of her glasses. While I was ogling my way up from her curvaceous calves to her powerful thighs to her trim waist and stopping at her round, heavy C cup breasts, she was maintaining her composure until it became obvious that I was "...overwhelmed by the view, Mr. Gill?" Crap, I got caught daydreaming again! After the electric heat wave of embarrassment washed over me and I gulped in my dry throat, I managed to stammer out, "Um, sorry, Cathy." I froze solid. My eyes went wide with fear and my hard-on went soft as could be. I knew if there was anything she hated, aside from being underestimated by men, was being called "Cathy". I had pretty much done both in the span of a few minutes!
My head was spinning with worst-case scenarios: she's going to quit, she's going to spread my name as a pervert, she's going to sue me for sexual harassment, oh God... As I began to open my mouth to sputter out a more sincere apology, she shocked me to my core by first smirking and then chuckling a bit! The confusion in my expression must've been clear as day. She stood up out of her chair, smoothed her skirt, walked over to my desk and I watched as she placed a perfectly manicured finger to my lips. My cock twitched.
"Mr. Gill," she said, "may I call you Donovan?" I silently nodded, her finger still on my lips. She locked onto my gaze with her mesmerizing caramel eyes and said, "Donovan, I've been doing this for 8 years, and I've had a variety of clientele. I have no illusions about my looks. I know I'm gorgeous and I work hard to keep it that way." "The men I've worked for typically confuse wealth with virility and thusly feel free to harass me as they see fit. I'm a professional; my solution is typically to quit the assignment and bill them extra, noting that it is cheaper than a sexual harassment lawsuit." My eyes began widening, but she pressed her finger firmer and continued, "In this case, I'm willing to make an exception. Professionally, I am a bit disappointed by your behavior. Personally, I find you to be a rather handsome and intelligent man who has been respectful from day one." Her eyes traveled downward as she said, "Also, don't think I haven't noticed your rather sizable...tumescence in these early morning meetings."