Page 25 of In Love With a Master (Interview With a Master 2)

“Very good,” I encouraged her. “Now tell me whose desk faces yours?”

“It’s Dirk Wattingham’s desk,” she whispered. “He’s one of the senior journalists here at the paper.”

I nodded to myself. I visualized an overweight, middle-aged guy, maybe with grey hair, or maybe with no hair at all. I pictured a guy with beady hard eyes and a stomach straining against the buttons of his shirt.

“Is he sitting at his desk?”

“Yes.”

“And is he looking at you?”

“No. He’s on the phone.”

I got up from my chair and paced around the desk. “But he might look at you at any moment, right?”

“I… I guess so,” Leticia whispered. Even though her voice was low and muted, there was rising fear in her tone.

“Good,” I said. “Spread your legs now.”

“What?”

“Spread your legs now,” I demanded. “Do it, Leticia.”

The phone seemed to go dead. There was just silence but for a sudden explosive breath on the other end of the line. “I’m doing it,” Leticia whispered hoarsely. “I have my legs parted.”

I smiled to myself. “Keep your legs open,” I insisted. “And tell me if Dirk starts to look in your direction.”

There was more silence punctuated only by Leticia’s breathing. I imagined her with a stricken, panicked expression on her face as she leaned back in her chair with her legs open and the hem of her skirt straining against the gape of her thighs.

I waited for perhaps another minute. “Has he looked at you yet?”

“No. He’s still on the phone. He’s writing notes. He must be chasing an article,” Leticia’s voice was strained.

“Lift your skirt higher,” I said, “I want you to spread your legs wider and then reach down and rub your pussy with the palm of your hand.”

There was another interminably long pause of silence, so that for a moment I thought Leticia might have fainted. I had the receiver of the phone crushed against my ear, listening for the slightest sounds, but everything I heard was muffled and confused.

“I’m doing it,” Leticia’s voice was trembling. “Jesus Christ, Jonah… I’m sitting here rubbing my pussy.”

I smiled. “Is Dirk looking at you yet?”

“No.”

“How do you feel?”

‘Fucking terrified!” Leticia’s voice rasped. “I must be out of my mind.”

“Are you aroused?”

“Shit…” she said the word like a curse. “Yes.”

“Are your nipples hard?”

“Yes. Yes, they are.”

“And your pussy? Are you wet?”

“Yes.”

“Good girl,” I said softly. I had deliberately phoned the newspaper office because I knew Leticia would only be able to talk to me from the telephone on her desk. The cord to the receiver she held against her ear was like a ball and chain that had pinned her in place for me to torment. “Now, I have one last thing I want you to do for me.”

Leticia gulped. “You’re killing me,” she hissed.

I smiled to myself. “No… I’m arousing you.”

I heard Leticia sigh with heavy resignation. “What do you want me to do?” she asked like a soldier volunteering for a suicide mission.

“Is Dirk still on the phone?”

Leticia hesitated. I imagined her speaking with one hand cupped over the receiver to muffle her voice. “Wait… he’s just hanging up…”

“Good. Now I want you to slide two of your fingers deep inside your pussy. I want you to tell me how wet you are and how hot and tight your pussy feels.”

After a moment of heavy breathing, Leticia’s voice came back as a croaky husk. “I am very wet,” she confessed. “And when I fingered myself I could feel my pussy clenching.”

I came back around the desk and lowered myself into the big leather chair. “You have done well,” I said. “Thank you for being such an obedient, good girl. You can pull down your skirt now and cross your legs. After that, I want you to hang up the phone and then go across to Dirk’s desk and ask to borrow his phone. Tell him you are having trouble with the line. I want you to call me back. Okay?”

There was a brief puzzled silence. “Jonah? I… I don’t understand.”

I was smiling to myself. “Just do as I ask, Leticia,” I insisted. “I want you to smear your juice all over the mouthpiece of Dirk’s receiver. The next time he makes a call he’s going to be wondering why the hell the only thing he can smell is fresh, young pussy.”

I hung up.

Less than a minute later, the phone on my desk rang and I snatched it up.

“Jonah Noble.”

“It’s me,” Leticia’s voice was breathless with a giddy giggle. “I tried to call you but my phone isn’t working, so I’m calling from another journalist’s desk,” Leticia kept her voice restrained as she acted out her role. “I just rang to say that I was wrong about you last night. I said you were a rogue. You’re not. You’re the devil.”

I grinned into the receiver. “I am the devil,” I agreed. “But when I pick you up from work tonight I’ve still got every intention of showing you heaven.”

Chapter 16.

I drove downtown, parked the car in a nearby street and walked to the offices of the ‘Examiner’ newspaper. I glanced at my wristwatch. I was five minutes early. The newspaper office was on Renshaw Street – a neat, new two-story brick building with big plate glass windows across the façade and a glass door. In one of the windows was a display of recent newspaper editions, and painted onto the glass was the newspaper’s masthead with contact phone numbers below.

I pushed against the front door and i

t swung quietly open. I stepped into a wide carpeted foyer area with white walls and a long waist-high reception counter against the wall that faced me. The area was neat and austere. There was a coffee machine in one corner and a row of chairs around a low table, like the reception room of a doctor’s office.

I stood for a moment and waited. There was no one behind the reception desk and the room was silent. I dialed Leticia’s cellphone number.

“I’m here,” I said when she answered. “I’m in the reception area.”

Leticia’s voice sounded bright. “I will come downstairs and get you.”

I drifted aimlessly around the room. There were magazines and recent editions of the newspaper on the table. Idly I picked up the most recent newspapers and scanned the headlines until Leticia appeared suddenly from a doorway that had gone unnoticed on the far side of the room.

She came to me smiling, taking quick excited steps, but then pulled up short, as if she suddenly realized where we were, and the protocol for her to act professionally. Her eyes were bright and glittering, and her face, free of cosmetics, glowed with the vibrance of her delight.

“I wasn’t sure you were going to make it,” she said. She reached out, as though needing to touch me, but then changed the gesture to press at the lapel of my jacket in one of those distinctly feminine signals of intimate propriety.

I shrugged. “I told you I would be here,” I said simply. “And I always do what I say.”

In my hand were two long-stemmed red roses. I offered them to Leticia. “One is for your office, and one is for your apartment,” I said, “So that every day and every night you will think of me.”

Leticia seemed suddenly overcome by a swell of emotion. She accepted the roses and held them to her face, inhaling the perfume. Her eyes were bright and shiny.

---