Page 3 of Submit
I’m left standing at my window, my fingertips sliding down the glass with a little squeak and a hard on that’s so big it’s painful, wondering what the fuck all that just was.
Chapter Two
“Good morning, Sir.”
It’s the same thing every morning, a pleasant greeting by the door man in his crisply pressed, blue uniform with gold trim as he opens the large glass entrance for me, tilting his head in an accompanying greeting to his words.
The office building on Grand Central gleams in the morning sunlight, the rays bouncing off all the mirrored glass windows, making it shine like a beacon to all the business men who flock to it in their fancy suits just like mine.
Most of the people who work here have drivers dropping them at the curb and disappearing back into the traffic silently, but I never let someone drive me, driving is one of the most enjoyable things besides fucking and making money. I prefer to use the valet service and bring one of my own vehicles. As the red vested boy takes my Porsche 911 to the garage, I nod back to the doorman named Jerry and head inside, out of the cold December air.
I would’ve preferred to bring the bike, but with the slush and salt on the road, I won’t objectify her to the elements and chemicals. Besides, the trip I’m planning down to Miami to take her out and have a little fun will give me my fill of her until the weather here in New York is warm enough to safely bring her out to play.
The large lobby inside shines almost as brightly as the outside, with its polished white marble floors and walls, and the mirrored chrome accents adorning the reception desk and the hand rails going up the large staircases that flank the large room. The elevator doors, a line of eight of them also gleam brightly as if polished by hand every hour on the hour. Potted plants in the corners and on either side of the desk bring a little warmth and nature into the otherwise sterile environment.
It’s quite stunning really, and something I’ve simply grown accustomed to over the years of having the entire top three floors in my businesses possession. I like it, no love it. It’s clean and orderly, just how I prefer everything to be.
“Good morning Mister Lambert.” The cute little blonde behind the reception desk says as I approach then turn right, watching her watching me.
She’s had her eyes on me like a piece of meat for the whole two years she’s worked here, never once missing a chance to say good morning or goodnight as I pass by her. The way her brows draw in, her grey eyes darken, and she holds her breath, I know the things she’s imagining we could be doing together. Too bad blondes do absolutely nothing for me. Her big fake tits are a redeeming quality, but they look so big and tight under her uniform that I’d be afraid they’d pop under the force of my grip if I were to touch them.
“Good morning Miranda.” I say, throwing her a wink as I strut by, just to see her quick intake of breath and those big titties rise even higher.
With a small, satisfied chuckle I wait for the elevator on the far end to arrive, the one labeled private, after I press the small, round, silver button. It’s the express car that runs straight up to my levels, passing the other twenty-seven floors without ever stopping. I rock back and forth on the balls of my feet, occasionally watching her from the corner of my eye as she ogles me in my designer suit and polished shoes.
Oh, Adrian, what you do to every woman who looks at you.
With a cheery ding, the car arrives, the doors slide open, and I can get in all alone, away from prying eyes. Leaning against the mirrored wall, I close my eyes and enjoy the ride upwards to where I need to make some very important decisions today. The nerves don’t bother me, but something still isn’t sitting right with me, and I’m hoping my V.P. of operations, Daniel, can shed some light on the issues we’ve been having. This merger between my company and the one in Japan needs to go off without a hitch.
Stopping at the twenty-ninth floor, I step out, buttoning my suit jacket, and slide my hands into my front pockets. Ashley, my receptionist and personal assistant is hard at work at her desk, her headset on, her lips moving a mile a minute as she discusses something over the phone with God only knows who. That woman is worth more than her body weight in gold with everything she handles for me and the company, and she’s one of the only employees I don’t feel like I need to micromanage.
With a broad smile, she looks up at me, her face reflecting off the polished cherry wood of her desk. I throw her a wink and nod my head towards the cubby in the corner where she keeps the fully stocked coffee cart, mouthing “You want?” to her. She broadens that grin and gives me a little shoo of her hands to tell me to go ahead.
There’s no one else I would make coffee for, let alone know exactly how they take it and remember just how to make it. But that woman is my saving grace constantly, the least I can do is give her the little caffeine boost I know she needs. Besides, I need my macchiato anyways, and only she knows how to get it just right, but she’s too busy for me to ask for it.
The office is bustling with Monday morning business, with people shuffling back and forth through the long halls, disappearing and reappearing from open office doors. The mail clerk goes up and down delivering the mail that arrived over the weekend, and the secretaries rush around with their arms full of files and documents.
It’s not long before Ashley joins me, sliding up next to me, bumping into my side with a little giggle.
“Morning Adrian. Have a good weekend?”
“Yeah not bad. Would be better if I could go ride.” I say, stirring the ceramic mug of coffee, listening to the little tinkling of the spoon against the sides.
“You and that bike. You know, one day that thing is going to kill you.” She scoffs, rolling her bright blue eyes that almost match mine as she takes her coffee from me, making sure her fingers brush mine softly as she does.
She’s a stunning woman of thirty, and one I pay an immense salary to for not just her professional expertise, but for the pleasure of playing with her when I don’t have the time to deal with finding a submissive who needs to be trained. Ashley knows everything in business and fun, and I am so grateful for her to be in my life.
The fact that she’s exactly my type physically helps too, with her long brown hair, her crystal-clear eyes, her perky tits, and the narrow waist that flares out to hips that are perfect for grabbing. Her personality though takes the cake. I can order her around in the bedroom and boardroom, but when it’s just us as friends, she has my cock and my attitude in check with her spunky attitude and fearless way of talking to me. She’s perfect. Too bad I could never date her.
“If I die on that thing, then so be it. I’ll die a happy man.” I laugh, taking the mug back from her and taking a sip, making sure I did it right. “I didn’t taste it first.”
“I’m sure it’s just right. Everything you do is right.”
“Good girl.” I tell her, slapping her round ass under her little pencil skirt. “We ready for the meeting at ten?”
“Absolutely. Mr. Kinochi will be here shortly, and I have everything set up in meeting room three, including the special breakfast breads you had me order.”
“Perfect. What would I do without you?” I ask her, eyeing her up and down, letting her see the respect and desire I have for her.
