Business and Pleasure (3 page)

“Yes…please. Take me“

“Just a minute, baby. Patience, my love.
Patience.”

He uses the pad of his thumb to circle my
swollen clitoris. The tension increases, until I feel as if I might
explode. I need release. Now. But Mark has his own agenda…one he
apparently means to follow until he drives me mad with desire. He
strokes and plays with my pussy, and my moans grow louder. I cannot
hold back any longer. If he doesn’t take me…

“Mark! Now!”

He raises his head and looks at me, a huge,
mischievous smile lighting his handsome face. “You are such a
demanding wench.”

Wench
?
Hmm
… We’ll see about
that. But not right now. Right now, I need fucked. “Please!”

“Please? Well, since you’re asking so
nicely.”

Finally, he kisses his way back up, starting
at my stomach, pausing briefly to suckle each nipple, and then
raising up to look me in the eye. Our gazes locked, he places his
lips against mine, shifts his hips, and then slides inside me. He’s
not the largest man in the world—um, sexual anatomically
speaking—but he knows what he’s doing. He thrusts inside me, and I
cry out. God, he
definitely
knows what he’s doing…

“Yes. That’s it. Let go.”

No problem… I couldn’t hold back if I wanted
to. My body begins to tense up, I can feel every muscle get tighter
and tighter, until sweet release overwhelms me. I fly, my spirit
soaring, but Mark doesn’t stop. He continues pushing into me, again
and again, each time harder and deeper than the time before. I have
no time to recuperate before I can feel my body tensing once more.
This time, I keep pace with him, and we climb to the summit
together. We both cried out at the same time, and a part of me
marvels at the additional pleasure to be found in a simultaneous
orgasm. We collapse onto the bed, both of us drained but sated. I
should say something, tell him how wonderful he was…thank him for
helping me distress, but I can’t find the energy. Not yet.
I’ll
just lie here for a moment…wait until I catch my breath
. Mark
pulls me close, and despite my best intentions, I slip quickly into
a peaceful, dreamless slumber.

*****

I awaken the next morning to a bright and
beautiful view, but my head is pounding so badly, I can barely
appreciate it. I roll over to find a note, two aspirin, and a glass
of water sitting on the nightstand. The note is from Mark.

Take these aspirin and drink this entire
glass of water. You need to be at the top of your game this
morning. It will all work out, Lizzy. XOXO
.

Oh, thank the heavens. He always knows what
to do…always anticipates my needs. I quickly pop both pills into my
mouth and down the glass of water. He must have left only a little
while ago; the water is still cold. As my senses start to return to
normal, I reread Mark’s note, which reminds me what I have to do
today. My heart races and a sense of dread makes my hands shake. I
am not looking forward to my 9:00 a.m. meeting. Assholes. Yes, I
know this is just business, and I realize these things happen, but
I’ve already decided I hate them.

I glance at the clock on the side table.
Seven, already. Time to get moving. I jump into the shower, hoping
the hot water will wake me up.

Fifteen minutes later, I’m back in my room,
feeling moderately refreshed. The aspirins have done their job, and
my head no longer feels as if someone’s beating on it with a
sledgehammer. I throw on my black pantsuit over top of a dark red
shirt, and slip into a pair of matching red Christian Louboutins.
Once dressed, I twist up my hair and pin it to the top of my head,
and then I apply a little makeup, keeping it on the neutral side.
Today, I want to achieve a sophisticated yet powerful business
woman look, and as I study my reflection in the full-length mirror,
I feel satisfied with the end result. Looking good, I’ve
discovered, gives one a sense of self-confidence, no matter how
tough a situation one might face.

Everything will be fine
, I tell
myself as I leave the house and head to work. I stop off and grab
my vanilla latte, requesting an extra shot of espresso because
something tells me I’m going to need the added energy boost, By the
time I reach the office, I’m wide awake, my headache is completely
gone, and my mood has significantly improved. The walk in always
gets my blood going, and today is no exception. In fact, if
anything, I feel better than normal…probably due to the amazing
hour or so I spent in Mark’s embrace the night before.

I push away all negative thoughts, settle in
at my desk, and read my email as I sip my coffee. The buzzing
intercom makes me jump.

“Yes?” I press the button and talk into the
speaker.

“It’s almost nine,” Bob says. “We’re meeting
in the conference room instead of in my office.”

My gaze goes to the little clock in the
bottom, right-hand corner of my laptop. 8:56. I have four minutes
to gather my nerves.

“Okay. Thanks. I’ll see you in a few.” I
release the button, disconnecting Bob’s call, and sit back in my
chair.

For the next sixty seconds, I practice a few
deep breathing exercises…something I learned while watching a yoga
video Becca found online a few weeks ago, when she was having
trouble relaxing before a big exam. This wasn’t the first time the
silly practice helped me get my head together, and it probably
wouldn’t be the last.

A little calmer, I head for the conference
room, but the closer I get, the more my stomach twists. By the time
I arrive, it’s in knots, and my hands are clammy and shaking.

“Elizabeth should be here any moment. Can I
get you anything? A cup of coffee? Some water?”

Standing outside the door, I hear Bob making
smalltalk. He sounds like such a kiss ass…and he’s kissing the
wrong
ass, that’s for sure. If I did not know better, I
would think Bob was all for selling out. But he has to know I’ll
fire him, if I have to. This company is mine. End. Of. Story.

I take a final deep, calming breath and step
inside the conference room. Quickly, I size up
my…
competition
. There are two people—strangers I’ve never
seen—sitting at the table. One, a fairly nice-looking woman who
looks to be in her mid-thirties, glances at me briefly, before
looking away. She has long, wavy blonde hair, she’s wearing bright
red lipstick, and she looks more like some rich guy’s arm-candy
wife than a businesswoman. She remains seated, but the guy she’s
with stands. My gaze travels up…and up…he has to be at least six
feet tall. He has emerald-green eyes and short, dirty-blonde hair
that sweeps to one side in the front. My knowledge of style allows
me to recognize he’s wearing a very nice, gray Armani suit. My
knowledge of the opposite sex allows me to recognize he’s one of
the nicest-looking men on the planet. Definitely in the top ten
percent.

Why are we here again? Sheesh. My mind’s
going to mush. His fitted suit does nothing but make me wonder what
he might look like without it. I even imagine walking my fingers
down the front of his shirt, releasing each button along the
way…

I give my head a shake
. Snap out of it,
Elizabeth! The man is here to take over your company
. I should
not be fantasizing about him. Thank goodness, Bob begins to make
the introductions.

“Elizabeth, this is Christina Miller, CFO of
Preston Enterprises.”

Christina stands up finally, and we shake
hands. Her palm is icy cold against mine, and I quickly release her
hand to turn and greet her extremely good-looking associate.

“And this is Alexander Preston, CEO.”

Our eyes meet as he leans forward to shake
my hand. I feel an instantaneous spark, but I try to ignore it.

“Elizabeth.”

I nod. “Alexander.”

“Please, call me Alex.”

I nod again; very aware of the fact that I
am borderline staring. Once again, Bob saves me from completely
embarrassing myself.

“Okay,” he says, and claps his hands, “shall
we get down to business?”

We sit and talk for an hour, easy,
constantly going back and forth with no real results in sight. I
just want these people to leave and never return. I will admit,
they make a good argument. They make the idea of selling sound like
a good idea—beneficial to everyone, but especially to me. But this
company is my baby, not theirs. They will not care for it the way I
do. Preston Enterprises owns everything. They buy out all their
competition. They already own several small publishing houses, so
why do they need mine? Oh…that’s right, I’m the competition. Even
though I do not feel like I am. I never look at the publishing
business that way. I never see myself as competing.

As the meeting wears on, I become more and
more frustrated, and Bob is no help. He seems to love the idea of
Preston Enterprises taking over, introducing a whole new set of
authors to us, opening the doors for “bigger and better things,”
but Bob doesn’t own this company. I do. Me. Not him. Not them. I
will not let them take over and turn my business into some stupid
empire where no one actually works or cares about their authors or
the material that comes through their doors. Worse yet, I will not
allow them to buy me out, only to shut down the business. Although
they’ve assured me that’s not their intention, I’m smart enough to
know it’s always a possibility.

“I hear what you’re saying, Alexander, but
again, I’m not interested. I started this business three years ago,
and I have no plans to sell it. Not to you; not to anyone. We’re
doing just fine—which you already know, obviously, or you wouldn’t
be here. So, thank you for your offer, but we will not be
selling.”

“You do realize I’m offering a partnership,
not a take over? You would still be CEO of Hamilton
Publishing.”

I give him a slight nod. “Yes. I understand
completely, and I am still not interested.”

He looks downright depressed. “Okay. Well, I
thank you both for meeting with us.”

I stand up immediately, relieved this
meeting is coming to an end, and offer my hand to each of them.
Christina barely said five words throughout the entire meeting, and
now she barely returns my handshake. Alexander, however, seems
unwilling to release my hand once he has it. A part of me
recognizes and returns the attraction, but the other part of me,
the more rational part of me, wants him out of my building. Bob
steps up, interrupting the magnetic moment, and shakes their hands,
as well.

“Sorry things didn’t work out, Alex.”

“That’s all part of business, but again,
thank you for arranging this meeting.” Alexander releases Bob’s
hand and turns to me. “Elizabeth, would you be so kind as to walk
me out?”

What
? I hesitate, but quickly realize
I have no choice, unless I want to appear completely
unprofessional. “Why, of course, Alexander. I’ll be happy to see
you out.”

“Alex.”

I nod in agreement. Alexander. Alex.
Whatever. Who cares, as long as I never see the man again? I smile
and say, “Alex.”

Christina doesn’t look happy about any of
this. I wonder if she has a problem with my walking them out, or if
she’s upset because her boss keeps telling me to call him Alex. Or
maybe she just doesn’t like me…for whatever reason.
Oh well
.
I shrug inwardly. I’ll never see
her
again, either. God
willing. They follow me down the hallway, and we step into the
elevator. As the door slides closed, I press the button for the
ground floor.

“It was very nice to meet you,
Elizabeth.”

“Likewise.” I hate lying, but what can I
do?

“Really?” He’s smiling, as if he’s able to
read my mind.

“Really was it nice to meet you? Yes. Of
course.” I sigh and add, for the sake of my eternal soul, “Do I
wish it was under different circumstances? Yes. I must admit I
do.”

As the doors open on the first floor,
Christina practically runs out of the elevator, while Alex lags
behind and turns to me.

“We may have to come up with different
circumstances then. Have a nice day, Elizabeth.”

Before I can say another word, the doors
slide closed in my face. I stand there blinking, speechless. What
the heck did he mean by
that
?

*****

The rest of the day passes by somewhat
smoothly. After getting that meeting over with, I can relax more
and actually get some work done. Bob pouts, and every time I see
him, he sighs and shakes his head, but I easily ignore his
histrionics. If he wants more money and a bigger office, he can
leave. Natalie, on the other hands, seems thrilled with my
decision. She sits in my office with me for part of the day,
helping me sort through papers and read manuscripts, and as we wrap
things up late that afternoon, she suggests we go out and
celebrate.

“You don’t have to twist my arm,” I
laughingly agree with her as I gather up my things and prepare to
go home.

We decide to meet at The Double Seven, and
all the way home, my anticipation grows. I feel as if a weight has
been lifted from my shoulders.

While getting ready, I sent a quick text to
Nicki and Becca, asking if either of them want to come out with us.
Surprisingly, they both text back, saying they will be there. I am
feeling rather good this evening—accomplished and confident—and I’m
so excited about going out and celebrating with my friends. No more
worrying about work, no more stress, just my friends and I, having
a good time.

We arrive at The Double Seven around a
quarter after nine and waste no time getting some drinks in our
system. We settle into the dark leather booth with our cocktails
and chat like a bunch of teenagers at a slumber party. Strange, I
can’t remember ever feeling this carefree. We all
look
amazing, too. I’m wearing my tight, red dress that leaves very
little to the imagination, while Natalie is wearing one that’s
similar but in black, and with her red hair, she looks fabulous.
Becca has left her blond hair down over her shoulders in waves, and
she chose a beautiful pink dress, of course (pink is her favorite
color), and Nicki is beautiful, as usual, in her black miniskirt,
with her black hair up in a high ponytail.