Page 26 of In Love With a Master (Interview With a Master 2)

“Thank you,” she smiled and then stopped smiling. Her face became serious. “Jonah, I am simply swamped. I don’t think I can join you for dinner – there is just too much I need to do here.”

In truth, I wasn’t surprised. I had learned a grudging respect for Leticia’s dedication to her craft. I nodded my understanding and then sighed. “Well, I don’t want the drive into the city to be wasted, so the least you could do is to show me the editorial office. I’d like to see where you work… especially after our lunchtime encounter.”

Leticia’s features transformed until she looked as though she were recalling some particularly terrifying nightmare. Impulsively, she clutched at my arm. “My god,” she choked and then laughed nervously. “I still can’t believe I did that. I still can’t believe what you made me do.”

I said nothing for a moment. “Any reaction from Dirk?”

Leticia grinned mischievously. “Only confusion,” she said. “He spent the entire afternoon on the phone, but he kept glancing at me and frowning. When he left work a little while ago he paused in front of my desk and looked like he was going to say something. I almost died! But then he just shook his head like nothing made sense and kept walking,” she said in breathless rush of words.

Leticia led me up a flight of stairs and into another office. It was warmer here, and I could hear the faint hum of an air conditioner. The room was large, with desks arranged in open spaces, each of them covered with masses of paper and old newspapers. To the untrained eye, the room looked like a shambles – but beneath the surface chaos, I could sense the purpose and function that went on here.

Leticia led me to her desk. She set the roses into a coffee mug filled with water and then pointed across the room to a closed plain wooden door. In small gold letters at eye level was painted the word ‘editor’.

“That’s the boss’s office,” Leticia said.

“Is he still here?”

Leticia shook her head. “No. He left about an hour ago, but he’s expecting me to leave my articles on his desk so he has them in the morning.”

I glanced around the room. There was a photocopy machine in one corner and a fax machine beside it. In the opposite corner was another coffee machine, and a shoulder-high office petition covered with random newspaper clippings and family snapshot photos.

“Is anyone else here?”

Leticia shook her head. “I’m the only one left in editorial,” she explained, “but the production staff are arriving. Their office is downstairs at the back of the building.”

I turned my head and pointed. “Is that Dirk’s desk?”

Leticia nodded.

The man’s desk was larger than Leticia’s and all the other desks in the office, no doubt a symbol of his status as the newspaper’s senior journalist. The chair behind the desk was an old battered leather monster, with deep depressions in the padding from years of wear.

I cleared a space on the edge of the man’s desk and sat, swinging my leg lazily like the tail of a resting panther.

“I want you to sit at your desk, like you were today,” I said quietly.

Leticia went suddenly rigid. “Jonah, no. I… I can’t.”

I raised a challenging eyebrow. “Can’t, Leticia? Or won’t?”

Leticia shook her head and wrung her hands together. Her face was full of appeal. “I can’t,” she said and then she pointed to the ceiling. “There are security cameras. They turn them on after the office empties at five o’clock.”

I glanced above me. There was a security camera in one corner of the editorial office above the door we had entered through and another on the wall above the photocopy machine. They were small black boxes with lenses – not terribly sophisticated, but adequate to ensure after-hours office security.

I glanced at Leticia. She saw me nod and looked relieved. I slid off the edge of the desk and took Leticia’s hand.

“Leticia, I always get what I want,” I whispered in her ear. “And right now if you won’t eat dinner with me, then what I want is to eat you.”

Leticia’s face became flushed, but the cameras had given her security and confidence.

She stared boldly into my eyes and there was a brazen little taunt at the corner of her mouth. She chuckled at me, a throaty sensuous sound, and drew a fingernail down my chest so that tiny sparks of flame seared my nerves. “Well, Jonah Noble, while the idea of being your next meal appeals to me enormously, the fact is that this time you can’t have what you want,” Leticia cooed. “Not here, and not now, anyhow. You may just have to go hungry until I get these articles finished and on my editor’s desk.”

I smiled, and there was something about the sudden menace in my eyes that gave Leticia a flicker of pause. My fingers wrapped more tightly around hers and I pulled her to me. I slid my free hand around her waist and then down until I was cupping the shape of her bottom.

“I always get what I want,” I said again, leaving Leticia in no doubt that I meant it.

The little challenge in her smile faded, then slipped from her face as her expression became suddenly wary. Her back was arched so that she leaned away from me within my arms to study my face. “Jonah…”

“We’re going to the editor’s office,” I said with a growl of lust. “I’m going to put you on the edge of his desk, hoist your knees wide apart and bury my face between your spread legs.”

Leticia froze, suddenly rigid as her face stricken with sheer horror. “Jonah! We can’t do that! Jesus, the editor’s office is strictly off-limits to staff,” she flustered in panic. “I’ve only been in there twice in all the time I’ve worked at this newspaper. Hell, the man only just started remembering my name since I wrote the first series of interviews with you. In the newspaper world, the editor is like a God. We can’t do this!”

“We can,” I insisted. “And we will.”

I took Leticia by the hand and dragged her towards the editor’s office. I flung open the door and glanced to the ceiling. There were no cameras.

I towed Leticia into the big office and slammed the door closed behind us. “Look,” I said, pointing. “The security cameras only operate in the other office. They are only there to keep an eye on after-hours staff – not management. We’re perfectly safe in here.”

“Safe?” Leticia’s voice was strained but harsh. “If anyone finds us in here, Jonah, I will lose my job.”

“Don’t be afraid.”

“I’m not afraid, Jonah.” Leticia pulled away from me, light on her feet, and clamped her hands defiantly on her hips, the gesture emphasizing the narrowness of her waist. “I am scared shitless.” She pointed an accusing finger at me.

The wicked smile flashed across my face again. “Then you better stop arguing and give me what I want before anyone finds us.”

Leticia folded her arms and stomped her foot in a gesture of childlike petulance. “Jonah, no!”

The smiled stayed fixed on my lips but slowly turned to ice and when I spoke my voice was low and filled with menace. “Get on the desk,” I said. “I won’t ask you again.”

I stared into her eyes in a direct trial of strength that Leticia wilted before. She was uncertain and confused. She dropped her eyes and I nodded with satisfaction. I could see the flutter of her heartbeat under the sheer silk of her blouse.

She came to me reluctantly, subdued and silent. She rested her bottom against the wooden top of the desk and then slid herself backwards until she was perched on the edge. With one hand I swept away papers and files and then stood between Leticia’s legs and pushed gently on her shoulders. She fell flat back onto the desk, her eyes screwed tightly shut, her heart racing. I reached down for the hem of her grey skirt and tugged it roughly until it was tight and bunched around her hips, then pushed the creamy smooth skin of her thighs apart so that she was spread-legged and wide open before me.

Leticia gave a desperate breathless whimper, stretched out like a sacrifice on an altar. Her tiny hands bunched into fists and she clenched them at her sid

e.

I lowered myself onto one knee and inhaled the musky perfume scent of Leticia’s pussy. Her panties were pink and sheer, with a delicate lace trim. I could sense the heat of her arousal.

Her panties were damp. I lowered my head slowly and pressed my open mouth against the silk and then began to move my lips in firm urgent kisses, my tongue probing the folds of the fabric and pressing against the contoured lips of her sex.

I felt Leticia shudder and then she began to slowly rock and undulate her pelvis. She gave a low, deep throaty groan and the tension in her spread legs melted like wax.

I set her feet on my shoulders, and then hooked one finger into the trim of her panties and pulled the fabric aside as if I was drawing open a curtain.

Leticia’s pussy was glistening, the folds of tender skin beginning to engorge. The hard little bump of her clit seemed to slowly pulse as if it had a life of its own.

I drew the flat of my tongue along the lips of her sex, lapping at the juices there before covering her clit with my mouth and clamping gentle pressure over it. I began to hum, the noise coming from deep in my chest, in a low resonate boom of vibrations. Leticia gasped and squirmed. “Oh God…” she cried out softly, the words strangled to just a whisper. “Oh my God…That feels so good, Jonah.”

Suddenly I reached onto the desk and snatched for the telephone.

“Ring your editor,” I growled, and forced the receiver into Leticia’s hand.

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