Serving Mr. Stevens, Part One: The Contract -- An Erotic Romance (Part 1 of 5) (2 page)

He laughed as if I’d made the funniest joke in the world. I giggled along with him nervously. “No, no,” he said, with great amusement. “I don’t think that will be necessary, Candace, but thank you. I’ll be going now. And please, do give me a call.”

Without another word, he reached into his breast pocket and handed me a business card, then walked briskly away from the counter and out the door. My mind was still going a million miles a minute. I glanced down at the business card. HENRICKSON & STEVENS LLC, it said, in ornate gold-embossed capital letters. And below the company’s logo, in a plain, no-nonsense script that contrasted sharply with the text above it, was the name of the man who would change my life forever:

“Thomas Stevens, President.”

As Mr. Stevens walked out of the coffee shop, my mind was left reeling. I was feeling so many different emotions at once: confusion, excitement, some fear. And underneath it all, I could feel the relentless warmth of desire swirling around my body.
What a rush
, I thought to myself. I needed a moment to catch my breath.

But before I even had a chance, the next customer – George – was up at the counter, talking impatiently. I missed the first part of his sentence, lost in my thoughts.

“…so you’d better be careful,” he finished.

I shook my head, coming to my senses. “I’m sorry, could you repeat that?”

He looked at me and sighed, with a mix of annoyance and pity. “I said that you don’t know who you’re dealing with, so you’d better be careful. Now, will you
please
take my order?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” I said. “Come again? Why should I be careful of Mr. Stevens? And who
is
he, exactly?”

“Don’t tell me you’ve been working here this long and you don’t know what building this is,” said George. “Thomas Stevens? Hello? As in,
the Stevens Building
, where you happen to be standing right this moment?”

A bell went off in my head; I knew the name had sounded familiar. Thomas Stevens was one of the richest men in Manhattan, an investment banking titan and one of the most feared names on Wall Street. Even as a lowly coffee-shop cashier –
I mean, barista,
I thought with a grin – I at least knew that much.

“But what would a man like Thomas Stevens want with
me?
” I asked.

George scoffed. “How should I know? I don’t ask those kinds of questions. He probably needs a new secretary or something.” He leaned in closer to the counter, and dropped his voice a few decibels. “Listen,” he said. “I probably shouldn’t even be saying this, but if you want my advice, you’ll be extremely careful about getting involved with Mr. Stevens. He’s an extraordinary businessman, but he’s got a bit of a… reputation.”

My eyes narrowed. “What kind of reputation?”

George hesitated. “Well… you know how it is in business. You don’t get to the top without stepping on a few people along the way. Thomas Stevens is ruthless – the definition of cold-hearted. And his temper is the stuff of legend. I’ve heard he can get a little… violent.” He paused a moment, looking stricken. “You know what, I’ve already said too much. Can you please just pour me my coffee now?”

I looked at him skeptically. George seemed like kind of a creep, and I didn’t really know how much to trust him. Mr. Stevens had been intimidating, sure, but how bad could he really be? “I’ll take my chances,” I said to George. “But thanks. Here’s your coffee.”

George grabbed the cup and shuffled away from the counter. “Do whatever you want,” he said as he walked away briskly. “Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

The whole rest of the morning, all I could think about was my conversation with Mr. Stevens. I replayed it over and over in my head, trying to figure out just what his motives were. But it was fruitless. The man was as inscrutable as could be – not to mention sexy.

“Now,
there’s
a man worth fantasizing about,” I said to myself. Again I found myself daydreaming about the dirty movie I’d watched last night, except that now, Mr. Stevens and I were playing the role of the main characters. I could just imagine those strong arms of his, shoving me up against a wall, holding me powerless to resist, then tearing my clothes off and having his way with me. I was getting turned on just thinking about it, which of course made the hours crawl by even more slowly.

At 12:15, I finally got my break. Fifteen minutes, all to myself – it wasn’t much time, but it would have to do. I dashed into the break room, grabbed my phone, and went straight back to a deserted corner where I could have some privacy. Lunch would have to wait for later; I was too antsy to eat much, anyway. As I looked down at the number on the business card, I was overcome with trepidation. I entered in the numbers, but I just couldn’t work up the courage to hit
Dial.
I knew that if I wanted answers, I’d have to call him – but that was easier said than done. Try as I might, I just couldn’t bring myself to go through with it.

And that’s exactly how I spent the rest of my precious break time: holding my phone in my hand, agonizing over whether to call, almost getting the nerve to go through with it but then chickening out at the last second. I really did feel like a high-schooler. When the fifteen minutes was up, I meekly put my phone away and went back to work.

All afternoon, I tortured myself with self-recriminating admonitions.
This is why you never get the guy, Candace
, my inner voice nagged me.
You’ll never get what you want if you don’t have the courage to go for it.
The afternoon went by in a blur, and I was so preoccupied I barely noticed. By the time my shift ended at 4PM, I was exhausted. This Mr. Stevens stuff was making me crazy, and all I wanted to do was go home and curl up with a good book. I’d decided to put off calling him until tomorrow, when I’d had a chance to think about it a little bit more.

I went to the back room and grabbed my street clothes out of my locker – a dingy, old black top and faded jeans. I hurriedly changed, spraying myself with a bit of perfume to try and get rid of that coffee-shop odor. I couldn’t wait to get out of there.

But when I caught a glance of myself in the locker room mirror, I stopped in my tracks. “Oh, Candace, look at you,” I muttered to myself. Staring back at me in the mirror was a woman with messed-up hair, pockmarked skin, too-fat thighs and rounded shoulders. If you saw me on the street, you’d never guess I was only twenty-eight.

And just like that, all my self-confidence vanished. I felt my eyes welling up with tears.
Of course he wasn’t flirting with you,
I scolded.
What would a man like him want with a woman who looks like this?
Shuddering, I turned away from the mirror and slouched down on the wooden bench, resting my head against the cold metal locker. I felt utterly dejected. I had no business with a guy like Mr. Stevens, and I knew it.

I pulled myself together and grabbed my purse. I’d decided it was time to go home and drown my sorrows with a bottle of wine.

But just as I was about to leave, I heard a noise from around the corner. It sounded oddly like… a
footstep
. I froze.

“Hello?” I said hesitantly. “Anyone there?” No one was supposed to be back here; you needed a key to get in, and all my co-workers were still out front in the shop. I slowly looked around, listening carefully for any noise. Dead quiet.

The dimly lit locker room was creepy enough on a good day, and in my current state of mind it seemed borderline scary.
It’s about time to get out of here anyway,
I thought to myself.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a hand roughly closed around my mouth.

I was too shocked to scream. In an instant, I was being pushed up against the cold metal locker, my hands forced behind my back. I tried to turn around and see who was behind me, but a strong hand held my head in place.

“You said you’d call me,” a voice growled in my ear.

My eyes shot wide open.
It’s Mr. Stevens,
I realized. I was so shocked that I quit struggling. My body was screaming with adrenaline. I heard a low chuckle behind me as he felt me stop fighting him. I was breathing fast and hard, my breasts pushed against the cold metallic locker.

“I see you recognize me, Candace.” He didn’t let go of my arms, but he wasn’t hurting me either. “And I can see that you’re enjoying this.”

I made a small surprised noise as I realized he was right. I was scared, yes, but there was an undeniable arousal simmering deep within me.
Oh my God,
I thought,
this is just like my fantasies.
I could feel the warm hardness of his manhood pressing into my backside, and I smelled the scent of his cologne mixed with sex and anticipation. Instantly I felt myself go wet between my legs. As if he sensed my hunger, he pressed even closer against me, his hot breath snaking into my exposed ear. I closed my eyes, savoring the feeling.

“You’re loving this,” he whispered. “Aren’t you, Candace?” I nodded, helpless to deny him. “There’s a good girl,” he purred. “And if I take my hand away, are you going to scream?” I shook my head.

“Good.” He released his hand from my mouth, and slid his fingers down my throat towards my breast. I heard a low moan from somewhere far away, and then realized it had come from within me.

He ran his hand slowly down my body, flicking my hardened nipple with his thumb as he traced over my breast. He explored my curves languorously, as if my body belonged to him and only him. His hand came to a rest just at the top of my jeans.

“Now, Candace,” he said, “perhaps I didn’t make myself clear this morning. When I tell you to do something, I expect you to obey. And if you don’t…”

SMACK! I yelped as I felt a hard, stinging pain across my buttocks. I flinched and squirmed, but with his left hand still firmly holding my wrists, there wasn’t much I could do.

“…There will be consequences,” he finished. “Do you understand me now?”

I whimpered, but stayed otherwise silent. 

SMACK! Another hard slap across my backside. He jerked on my wrists, causing me to half-stumble. He leaned his mouth directly next to my ear. “You
will
speak when you’re spoken to,” he hissed. “I asked you a question. Do you understand me?”

“Yes,” I said, wincing as he tightened his grip on my wrists even further.

“Yes, what?” he asked me, a threatening tone in his voice. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him raise his hand, prepared to spank me again if I didn’t satisfy him.

“…Yes, sir,” I said finally.

He smiled. “That’s more like it.” He placed his hand tenderly on my ass, rubbing it gently as if to soothe away the pain he’d just inflicted. It was the most basic system of punishment and reward, but right now, boy, was it was working on me.

Still rubbing my ass, he guided my hands down to his groin and placed them on his member. I could feel the outline of it straining through his cotton slacks; it felt even bigger and harder than it had a moment ago. I hadn’t been with a man in months, and just feeling his hard shaft through his pants was making me ravenous with desire. All I could think about was unbuttoning his pants and taking him into my mouth.

Clearly, he had similar ideas for me. Before I knew what was happening, he’d dropped his hand from my wrists and forced me onto my knees. In one swift motion, he pulled open his belt and pushed my head towards him. “Suck,” he commanded. I hungrily obliged, undoing his fly and guiding him into my mouth. I made a low, guttural noise of satisfaction as my lips slid down his stiff length. The moan I heard above me only encouraged me to continue. I greedily sucked him, working the base of his shaft with my hand and rubbing my tongue all around his tip. He grabbed a handful of my hair in his hand, holding on to me firmly as I pleasured him. I was doing things to him I’d only dreamed of, and I was loving every minute of it.

As I ramped up the intensity and pace, his moaning became quicker and more urgent. Finally, he pulled my head off of his member. I whimpered, disappointed. “Not yet,” he said. “I don’t want to come yet. I have other plans in mind for you. Stand up.”