Mr. Lazarus met me outside after a few minutes, a cigarette I knew he wasn't planning on smoking dangling from his fingertips. This was a trick he'd pulled a few times before - claiming to go out for a smoke just to drag me into a spare office or bathroom. Frankly, I didn't even know if he actually smoked or if he just used it as an excuse to duck out of social occasions every once in a while.
Barely out of view of our table full of coworkers and his wife, Lazarus pulled me into a deep kiss, his hand planted on my ass. He gripped me tight, commanding, wanting. "You were very good for me in there, Rebecca."
I melted under his touch, loving the feeling of validation that came with being a slut for him. "I always try to be."
He smirked. "I know you do, kitten." He kissed me again, let go, and pocketed the cigarette. His face dipped close to mine as he whispered in my ear, "Now, lady's choice: Alley or town car?"
My voice came out breathy and rough. I just wanted him back between my legs, to be taken the way he wanted to take me. "What kind of lady agrees to be fucked in an alley?"
"Probably the kind who can cum on her boss's fingers under a table." He chuckled, eyes flaming with attraction. His hot breath on my ear made my cheeks burn red. "Town car, then?"
I met his gaze steadily and a little smile crept up on my lips. "No, alley. There's something fun about that idea."
He lifted my chin with his fingers and planted another kiss on me. "And what idea would that be, Miss Spaulding?"
I suppressed a girlish giggle as my blush grew redder, still not quite comfortable admitting what I wanted to him, the kinds of things that turned me on. I hoped the dim city night concealed the pink across my face. "That anyone could walk past and catch us."
"That's what I like to hear."
With that, he dragged his fingers down my arm and eased off my coat. Then, he handed it to the valet and said, "Hold onto this a few minutes, would you?"
The valet nodded, seeming to understand, and placed it with the other coats in his care. That was the kind of attention Mr. Lazarus commanded constantly. Everyone who met him would drop whatever they were doing to attend to anything he wanted at that moment. He spoke to everybody like he was presenting a bulletproof case in the courtroom: Complete confidence, certainty, and an unwavering sense of self. It was difficult not to be attracted to him; I'd heard our interns gushing over his chiseled features and stern voice over coffee, of course.
Then, to me, Lazarus said, "Wouldn't want that lovely coat getting dirty."
He took my hand next. I shivered, and not from the cold. Mr. Lazarus was rarely affectionate in that sort of way. He led me half a block west to the alley directly next to the restaurant. The bricks were rougher here, worn from years of weather and wind. Chicago's alleys were long and narrow, just wide enough for 6'3" Mr. Lazarus to spread out his arms and touch either side with his fingertips, if he wanted to.
The nightlife scene was starting to heat up downtown, voices and footsteps drifting past as tourists made their way into the many expensive bars in River North. I heard a busker nearby, wailing on a saxophone, and the drunken laughter of college students celebrating winter break. We were totally exposed to the world, not even a dumpster blocking our view to the busy street. Cars whizzed by, full of people who could glance over and see my boss railing me in about five minutes. It was darker between the shadows of these two buildings, the only light a warm orange from a nearby streetlamp.
Mr. Lazarus pushed me up against the rough brick and my heart started to pound through my ribs. There was something so hot about being here, the wind nipping at my bare legs and the bricks biting into my low-cut back, and knowing Mr. Lazarus was going to have me - however he wanted me.
A variety of possible scenarios whizzed through my mind. he could ask me to scuff up my knees, slide his cock over my full lips. He could hoist me up with his strong arms, fucking me slow and deep and bitting on my neck. Lazarus was in charge, and we both knew that.
Feeling suddenly very naked even with all my clothes still in place, I whispered, "What if someone catches us?"