His Every Desire

By: Chloe Cassidy

"Don't exaggerate, Cassie. My pussy most assuredly did not stain the sheets. Your sheets were already stained. I swear you haven't changed them since high school, and that was four years ago."

"Okay, let's change the subject. How's the job going?" she asked.

"I'm not wearing any underwear," I whispered.

"Are you a phone sex operator now?" Cassie laughed.

"No," I said quietly. "I didn't have any clean underwear this morning, so I washed a pair of nylon panties in the sink and dried them in the microwave." I let out a giggle. "They melted."

Cassie broke into a fit of laughter. I laughed along with her until I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. There was a man standing there. From his cheap suit, I knew that it couldn't possibly be the great hedge-fund billionaire Taylor Greene. I had never met the man whose name graced the sign on the building. From his reputation, I knew that he was tall, dark and handsome. He was a ladies man who used women like tissue paper. This man in front of me didn't look like he got that much pussy.

"Hang on, Cassie," I said into the phone. I turned to the man who had interrupted my conversation. "Can I help you?" I asked coolly.

"Is that a personal call?" asked the man in the cheap suit.

"What's your name?" I asked.

"Harry Smith," he replied. He looked at me expectantly.

"Harry," I said slowly, "Smith." I stared off into the distance for a moment, letting my eyes drift up and to the left. "No," I said. "That's not the name on the top of the building or the bottom of my paychecks."

His eyes slanted into angry slits. To his credit, he kept his cool. I decided to put my underwear snafu to good use, opening and closing my legs like Sharon Stone in "Basic Instinct." He didn't even lower his squinted eyes to my pussy. Maybe he was gay. There's nothing wrong with that, but it meant my best Sharon Stone impression wasn't going to get him off my back. That was a shame. I closed my legs.

In my wild imagination, I thought perhaps Mr. Cheap Suit and Mr. Hedge-Fund Billionaire could be lovers. I pictured the blue polyester suit in front of me and a $22,000 Ermenegildo Zegna suit crumpled together on the floor of Taylor Greene's immense mahogany paneled office.

"Are you on drugs?" Harry Smith asked me, interrupting my deep thoughts.

"What was it that you wanted?" I asked. Cassie was still holding on the line. Her voice giggled in my ear as I turned my attention to this nuisance.

"I left you a stack of signed documents along with explicit instructions on where they were to be sent. I need to know whether you successfully completed that simple task," Harry Smith said.

"Yes, of course. If you will excuse me, I need to get back to an important phone call." I actually had the nerve to swing my chair away from him to face in the opposite direction. I could virtually feel the heat of his stare burning into the back of my head for a moment. Finally I heard the click of his weird little shoes on the floor as he walked away. I idly wondered whether he was the one responsible for taking away my Internet access.

"Sandy, is he gone?" Cassie asked on the phone.


"Was that the great and mysterious Taylor Greene?" she asked.

"No, it was some asshole named Harry Smith in a cheap suit. He was looking for some papers that I was supposed to send out."

"Did you send them?"

"I don't even know where they are." I wasn't laughing anymore. "I hate this job, but I can't afford to lose it."

"Do you think Taylor will be angry?" Cassie asked.

"I have no idea. I haven't even met the guy yet. He's constantly out of the office taking meetings somewhere. Sometimes, he stalks into the office just as everybody is getting ready to leave. You can tell when he's here because the entire staff falls silent. It's creepy." I was searching the drawers of my desk for those papers while I was talking. Thus far, I was not having any luck.

"Is he handsome?" Cassie asked.

"Handsome is not the word to describe him," I said. "His face belongs on a billboard. He makes my panties wet, and he hasn't even said a word to me yet."

"I hope he doesn't pick today to introduce himself to you," Cassie laughed. "It wouldn't be a good day to skip the underwear." From behind me, I heard a man clearing his voice. "Cassie, I need to get going. I'll talk to you later."

When I turned around, it was Mr. Cheap Suit, Harry Smith himself. I let out a combined sigh of relief and irritation.

"Hello," I said brightly with a fake smile planted on my face. "How may I help you?" My skirt had ridden up my thighs, and my bare pussy was sticking uncomfortably to the leather upholstery of my office chair.

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