Chapter 10 #2
Jesus, what happened there? I lost myself completely in that scene.
I’ve read enough erotic romance and watched enough porn to know I took part in something which was kinky and enjoyed it more than I would have expected.
Even more than the spanking, if I’m being honest. I suspected it then, but I know now, for sure, that my boss is dominant.
I’ve never thought of myself as submissive, I'm certainly not submissive in daily life; definitely not as his secretary, now executive assistant. But when it comes to role-play? I swallow. I love being subjugated by him. Not that I’ve role-played before.
But I know enough from my 'research’ to realize the way he commands me and the way I rush to obey him, when it’s just the two of us in a non-work situation, I fold into the persona of a subservient.
He’s made it clear that none of it means there’s anything personal between us. I’m nothing but his…sex-toy? He hasn’t said so, but his actions signal that.
A rush of pleasure fills me at the thought.
At the same time... How I wish it meant something more to him.
And how do I stop myself from taking everything that happened so personally?
Fact is, I can’t stop thinking of him. I square my shoulders.
I need to remind myself that he’s out of my league.
Whatever happens between us is simply two adults having a bit of fun, is all.
So, why is it that I can’t stop myself from wanting more?
I spin around and walk out of the bathroom, then toward the door of the study. When I pull it open, it’s to find Jeeves waiting there with my handbag.
"Mr. Davenport said you’d be needing this." Jeeves offers me my clutch.
I take it from him. "Thank you, Jeeves."
Some of the uncertainty subsides. So, my boss was thinking of my needs as he left?
And that’s reassuring and makes me feel looked after.
Though he was, perhaps, simply being polite?
Enough to track down Jeeves and my purse and have him wait here for me?
My head swims with all of these thoughts.
Maybe, I’m making too much out of what is a kind gesture on his part?
"Mr. Davenport asked that I escort you to where he’s waiting."
It’s with relief I follow him. Did my boss know I’d be befuddled and worried about putting a foot wrong and breaking some kind of protocol at this event?
Was he watching out for my comfort again?
Did he realize I’d prefer to have someone guide me through the next steps, so I wouldn’t have to think for myself for a while?
If so, why send Jeeves? Why not wait for me outside himself?
Jeez, I’m going to drive myself crazy with these thoughts.
I settle for following Jeeves up the hallway and into the grand room, then through the crowd. He threads his way through gaps between the well-dressed with an alacrity I envy. They really do teach you everything in butler school.
Then, I see him. Head and shoulders above the rest of the crowd, he’s listening with what seems to be polite interest, but which I know indicates he’s bored.
The woman opposite him is grey-haired and wearing a dress that falls to below her knees.
It’s dull grey in color with full sleeves.
However, she makes up for the unremarkable dress with a hat on her head in a brilliant yellow.
It has swirls and shapes and a big disc-shaped object in the center, and on it are two roosters—yes, I did say roosters— facing each other.
The woman must be no more than five feet four inches tall, but the height of her hat swoops up to being at eye level with my boss.
It should have caught my eye first—it acts like a lighthouse beam in a crowd of largely grays, and blacks, and whites—but my gaze was caught by him.
At how he stands indolently, his muscles seemingly at ease; but there’s an aura of tension surrounding him, drawing the attention of everyone in the vicinity to him. Except, he’s looking at me.
It feels like someone took a hammer to my chest, that’s how impactful the contact is.
The hum of the crowd fades. All other faces vanish.
I feel like I’m walking on air. There’s an alertness to his features as he watches me approach; only, as I reach him, he yawns.
And now, it feels like someone poured a bucket of icy water on me.
"Sir. Madam." Jeeves half bows. He flicks Knox a look I can only term as censorious, then he turns a much warmer look on me before he does his disappearing thing again. The crowd around my boss falls silent. All of them survey me and I meet their gazes head on. I have nothing to hide—except for the fact that I ground myself against my boss’ foot.
I wince, then school my features into what I hope is a nondescript expression.
I have as much right to be here as they do.
Class was a constant companion throughout my school years, but I'm proud of my background in care. I'm proud that I got this far on my own merit, and on my own terms. And not-even my boss’s arrogance can take that away from me. I tilt up my chin. "I’m June Donnelly, Mr. Davenport’s Assistant. "
"Is that what they’re calling themselves now?
" An elderly man with a receding hairline, and a paunch not quite disguised by his tailored suit, scrutinizes me with a lascivious look in his eyes. And there you have it, ladies and gents. Money can’t buy you sophistication; not even if you come from the posh upper classes.
I open my mouth to tell him off, but my boss holds up his hand. "She is my employee, and a very valued one. If you can’t treat her with respect, I’ll have you thrown out of this event."
I whip my head in my boss’ direction to find his face is deadly serious.
Apparently, he has enough clout to have someone evicted from a royal event?
Whoa, how rich are he and his family, exactly?
I knew Davenport industries was influential, but that they carry so much pull is not something I anticipated.
"Now, now, ol’ chap, it was all in jest. Surely, you know that?" the other man protests. I flick him a sideways glance and find he’s pale. He mops at his temples with a handkerchief. "I do apologize. I did not mean it that way."
"It’s her you need to apologize to." My boss nods in my direction.
The other man pivots toward me. "I am sorry," he says stiffly.
"Did that feel like he was sorry?" My boss snaps.
I am about to nod, but on second thought, why should I come to this guy’s rescue? He deserves what's coming to him.
"He did not sound like he was sorry," I say in a firm voice. The other guests eye me with something like respect.
Knox glances around, and once more, Jeeves appears at his side, as if by magic. I really need to get tips from him on how to blend in and out of the crowd.
My boss nods in the direction of said guest without taking his gaze from me. "Will you please escort this gentleman off the premises?"