M/F ~ Age Gap ~ Older Man/Younger Woman ~ Office E-rom ~ Forbidden Love
My Boss Has Been Waiting For Me to Come See Him After Office Hours
He wants to work me hard. As in, my clit. And I have been waiting to let him do just that!
Content Warning: This story features some mild dubcon and rough/degrading/punishment and humiliation-based sex scenes that some readers may find objectionable… and others might find delectable.
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Madilyn
After my private daydreaming session involving the man whose name I don’t even know, I’m full of pleasure and the sweet feeling of release and I’m ready to re-start this day. Then I hear the bathroom door open and the sound of women laughing as they enter the bathroom.
Shit.
I can tell by looking through the slim crack between the door hinges of the stall that they’ve congregated in front of the mirror. They must have just gotten to work and decided to finish their primping together here in the bathroom.
I wonder if they could have possibly overheard any of my “me time.” But at least they couldn’t have been anywhere close to the bathroom soon enough to hear my conversation with Jimmy. I don’t know which option would be more embarrassing.
I decide they seem oblivious and that they don’t even know I’m in here. I quickly pull up my feet so that just in case they heard anything, they can’t see my shoes and later identify me as the sad sack in the bathroom who was trying to break up with her boyfriend on her first day of work. Or the horny girl who couldn’t even wait until her first day of work was over to get off by thinking about some guy she doesn’t even know.
“I wasn’t sure how early to get here before the start of new associate orientation,” one of the women says.
I squint through the crack between the door and the stall to see who she is. I vaguely recognize her and one of the other women from a mixer the firm threw last week so that the new associates could get to know each other.
Most of them had been summer clerks here at the firm last year, so I was one of the few new people, and I’m not very good at getting to know people.
I think her name is Tara and she has hair as blonde and legs as long as Barbie’s. In fact, they all three look like some version of Barbie or one of her friends.
I know the second woman a bit better because she was in my class section of law school. But that doesn’t mean we were friendly.
I had thought the era of mean girls ended in high school. In law school, however, I found that we, as a class, had apparently regressed back to middle school.
There were cliques, there were post-finals celebrations that rivaled college frat parties and there were definitely mean girls. I tried to avoid them and keep my head in the books while they threw themed parties or networking events.
But now, on my first day at the law firm of Marks, Sanchez & Reed, I’m learning that mean girls are not only still alive and well, but they’re also still gathered together as a clique. Bad news like this seems to be par for the course for my first day at my new job, my new career, my new forever.
Just as I was surprised that mean girls rule the law firm world just as much as they did the middle school lunch cafeteria, I’m also surprised by how many young, attractive females become successful associates at large firms.
I know I should count myself among them, but I’m sure they don’t. Although I’m young, I’m curvier and bustier than most of them, and I don’t care about plastering my face with tons of makeup or doing my hair in the latest style.
“I’ve heard that the orientation is boring,” says Candace, the one with whom I’d shared law school classes, “so I downloaded some of the most recent issues of Vogue onto my iPad. What did we learn in law school, if not to always be prepared?”
They all three laugh and then the third one — I’m certain her name is Mandy, because when I first saw Mandy and Candace together at the mixer, I couldn’t get over the fact that their names could be “Mandy” and “Candy” — says, “The only reason I’m looking forward to orientation is because I heard that Asher Marks is going to be there.”
“I know,” says Tara, her eyes growing wide as she stares at her perfectly- waxed eyebrows in the mirror. “I can’t believe we’re finally going to get to meet the elusive firm founder.”
“He spent all of last summer on some mountain climbing trip in Katmandu or Nepal or Tibet or something,” Candace pipes in. “I can’t believe he didn’t even want to meet the summer clerks.”
She gives a sarcastic sniffle.
“I can’t believe they let a partner get away with not working all summer,” Mandy says. “But then again, he’s not just any partner. He founded the whole firm and he’s rich as fuck. I heard he flies private jets to all the mountains that he climbs. Every few months, he’s on a new expedition.”
“Jen Harris, the senior associate with the bad skin? She worked on the Simone Technology case last spring and she told me that Asher won a huge verdict,” Tara says.
“I’ve heard that’s not the only thing that Asher has that’s huge,” Candace says. “And yeah, Jen needs to wear some foundation on that shiny forehead, poor thing.”
“The Simone Technology case earned enough money in contingency fees for everyone in the firm to happily retire, if they wanted to,” Mandy says.
From the crack between the stall doors, I can see the other two girls turn to look at her.
“What?” Mandy says, batting her eyes innocently. “I religiously read the firm news bulletin. Don’t you? The contingency fee alone was over two billion.”
Her two friends whistle their amazement and I would join them if I weren’t in hiding. My knees are starting to cramp and my foot has fallen asleep.
I hope they’ll leave soon. But by the way their cosmetics are spread all over the bathroom counter, it doesn’t look like they ever plan to. In fact, it looks like they moved into the office and made the fifteenth floor bathroom their own.
“That’s why Asher Marks can do what he pleases,” Tara says. “He keeps the whole firm afloat. Makes a huge profit and then waltzes off on some mountain- climbing trip.”
“I hear he can do what he wants personally, as well as professionally,” Candace adds and then laughs.
“Yeah, it’s pretty common knowledge that he always takes a new female associate under his wing,” Mandy agrees.
“And under his desk,” Candace says.
Yuck.
The three women laugh but I feel nauseous. Just what kind of a law firm had I been so anxious to work for? A place where the head partner is a total douche and the new associates laugh about it?
“Well I don’t know about you ladies,” Tara says, “But I’d definitely let him take me whenever and wherever he wanted.”
“Hell yeah,” agrees Candace, and all three girls nod in happy anticipation.
Make that vie for the sleazebag’s attention, I think.
“It’s not like he just uses and loses them,” Candace continues. “I mean, sure, he moves on to the next one after a while, but whoever his chosen associate is definitely gets a good mentoring experience, both in the office and in the bedroom. And she always goes on to do bigger and better things, either within the firm or at another firm, depending on how acrimonious their fall-out is when Asher eventually jilts her.”
“So, as long as we know what we’re in for, it sounds like a good deal to me,” Tara says, as if assessing the negatives and positives of making a large purchase.
“Yeah, and I hear he’s on the prowl for his newest one so the timing is perfect. Just don’t get attached,” Candace says. “Know it’s only temporary, and have some fun, because he definitely knows his way around the legal world, and his way around a vagina.”
“Stop it,” Mandy says.
Yes, please, I silently agree with her, but then she adds:
“You’re making me horny. I have to concentrate on winning Asher’s affection, and my head can’t be swirling around in fantasy land.”
Barf.
“Who do you think he’ll pick this time?” Tara asks, shaking her breasts in the mirror as if they’re about to compete as prized animals at some farm show.
“I think it definitely has to be one of us,” Mandy says, almost in a whisper.
“Yeah, I mean most of the new associates are guys, and among the women other than us, there’s that older lady, Megan, and that clearly prudish-looking lady, Margo or whatever her name is, and a few dumpy-looking ones like that Madilyn girl.”
I do my best not to let out a horrified “hrmph,” and I also do my best not to pass out.
Just when I was thinking that nothing could be worse than having to listen to them compete over a sexist jerk like Asher Marks seems to be, they have to go and prove me wrong. They have to start talking about me.
“I don’t know about that Madilyn girl,” Mandy says. “She’s kind of pretty, and she’d be okay if she lost a few pounds and paid a little attention to her hair and wardrobe.”
From my hiding spot in the bathroom stall, I don’t know whether to be grateful that she’s “defending” me, or to stay upset that they’re talking about me behind my back like this. Even though, to be fair, they have no idea I’m eavesdropping.
“I highly doubt he’s her type,” Tara says, with a smug look on her face.
“Madilyn is definitely a go-getter,” says Candace. “She was in my practicum section.”
“What?” Tara’s facial expression changes to one of disbelief. “Wasn’t she a summer clerk at Roybal, Wilson & Maine? I don’t think she even got a summer clerkship offer from Marks or any of the other really good firms.”
“Yeah, but she was on Law Review and she increased her GPA during 3L year when the rest of us were slacking off and partying,” Candace says.
That’s true, I want to interject. And thank you.
I’d done her a solid once by lending her my Criminal Procedure outline before the final exam. She’d claimed she had been sick too many times throughout the semester to take good, complete notes.
I’d heard that for Candace, though, “sick” equaled “hungover.” Many of our classmates had refused to honor her request to borrow outlines, saying she should have spent more time in class and less time partying.
But lending her the outline that had taken me hours each day to put together — on top of the regular class time I faithfully attended — had been no skin off my back, and apparently it had resulted in her having a favorable opinion of me. Or at least, more favorable of an opinion than the other two girls seemed to have of me.
“Well, she’s probably too straight laced for a guy like Asher Marks,” says Tara. “And I disagree that she’s that pretty. She has cankles.”
Cankles.
Do I have cankles?
I look down at my bent, half-asleep ankle.
I can’t tell.
“Yeah, and cankles don’t go away with weight loss,” Mandy laughs. “It’s one of the ways guys can always tell that a woman might blow up again.”
“Once you have cankles, you always have cankles,” Tara agrees.
“Remind me not to eat too much junk food at this orientation,” Mandy says. “I don’t want to get cankles.”
“On that note,” Candace adds, throwing her piles of makeup into her briefcase, “We’d better get going to orientation.”
“I don’t know if cankles are something you can just get,” Tara says, as she follows suit. “I think you’re just born with them. If you have fat genes.”
“I wonder who Asher will sit by in the conference room,” Mandy muses aloud as they finally left the bathroom. “I hear that’s always an indication that she’s the girl he wants.”
“I like a man who instantly knows what he wants…” says Candace, before the door swings shut behind them.
So here we are.
They’re glibly making their way to orientation and I’m still scrunched in a bathroom stall, trying not to cry.
Stand up, I tell myself, and amazingly, I listen. Even though part of me feels like staying hidden in the bathroom all day and not having to deal with the realities of my work life or my personal life.
I march my legs soldier style out of the stall, and then around in a circle, trying to coach them into re-gaining their feeling.
I look at my unadorned face and hair in the bathroom mirror, which had formerly just been graced by the Barbies’ perfectly groomed reflections.
It’s okay, I tell myself.
I don’t want a guy like Asher Marks anyway.
He sounds like a complete asshole who thinks he can do what he wants.
I’m here for one thing and one thing only: to get my career off to the right start.
I may have cankles, but I didn’t get this job for my looks. My brain is all I need.
Those other girls can shove it.
I hold my head up high in the mirror before making my way to the door.
My feet mostly alive now, I try to walk as confidently as I can to the conference room where associate orientation is about to start.
I’ll forget all about the three Barbies and focus on what matters. And even though I still have to deal with Jimmy later, as least I’ve made significant headway in clearing my life of anything that holds me back from that goal.
But, damn it.
Cankles.
Cankles.
Cankles.
That one, cruel word uttered by my newest co-workers still reverberates in my mind.
Nothing is working out the way it’s supposed to today.
I try to think of something different, to drown them out. I remember the goals I had this morning as I got ready for work. New leaf. Fresh start. Excitement. Sex.
These things are still all mine for the taking. Except not together of course — no matter what the Barbies might think is acceptable.
I’ll stay focused on my game plan and continue being successful just like I have been over this past year. And they’ll be too busy chasing dick to be able to keep up with me.
Watch out, Marks, Sanchez & Reed. Here comes an associate who wants to work — not sleep — her way to the top.
Madilyn
Still determined to maintain a demeanor of confidence and focus, even if it’s fake, I head into the conference room that doubles as a cafeteria of sorts, where associate orientation is to be held.
The room is large, with many tables arranged in dutiful order. A small back room is attached to it and serves as a kitchen of sorts, with a few microwaves, coffee makers and a sink, some cupboards stacked with snacks and mugs bearing the firm’s logo, as well as a couple refrigerators for employees to stash our own food, and another one overflowing with goodies.
It’s all set up this way so that that lunch meetings can be held here for a captive audience. And the managing partners make no bones about the fact that they provide associates with free soda, gourmet coffee, snacks, and often even lunch, so that we have no excuse to leave the office. Their goal is to make it so that we will have more time to bill many hours for them.
Reminding myself to focus on my job and not on my ex or my co-workers, I pick up a hoagie and a Coke and try to figure out where to sit. Damn. I don’t see Mystery Man among those milling around. I eye the long, rectangular tables and their occupants, hating have to make decisions such as these.
The Barbies from the bathroom are already here, sitting together on one end of a table. Now that I’m able to see their entire bodies, it’s obvious that they look like twigs compared to me. It’s probably because they spend all their time discussing my alleged cankles instead of eating.
Beside them is a male associate who looks rather nerdy and boring. It seems obvious that he always hangs out with the Barbies, as if he’s trying to either have sex with them and/or copy the legal pleadings that they write. Or maybe his social and career ambitions align and he hopes to do a bit of both.
Continuing to look around the room for any other options as to where to sit, I remind myself that I need to network with the partners. But I don’t know too many of them yet, and I feel awkward standing around in my tight-fitting business suit, squinting at their unfamiliar faces. So, I sit down beside Monique, the friendly office manager, who’s about the only woman in the room bigger than I am.
“Hi Madilyn,” she says to me, waiving a manicured hand.
Then she turns back to a real estate lawyer on her left, with whom she is discussing dogs. “They still like to go for a jaunt in the mornings, but they’re getting old.” She faces me again and says, “Madilyn, you have a dog, don’t you?”
“Yes,” I answer, “She’s a…”
Someone sits down to my right, and I briefly glance at him.
Oh my God.
It’s Mystery Man.
He has excellent posture, sitting up straight and looking important. Now that I see what other lawyers around here are wearing I can tell that the outfit I thought was so rebellious is really just the office wardrobe for male lawyers whose schedules are cleared of court for the day.
So, Mystery Man must be a lawyer after all and some kind of a senior partner to boot. But still, he wears his clothes differently — better — than the rest of them. He has a debonair air about him that seems to say he doesn’t give a fuck.
“…rottie mix,” I finish.
“I have Shepherds too,” Mystery Man suddenly announces.
I turn back towards him and smile.
He’s staring at me.
“That’s nice,” I reply, trying to place him from somewhere other than today.
His face is handsome and chiseled, sun-exposed but still youthful despite his age. There’s no doubt he’s sexy, and powerful. Although the same could be said of almost any senior partner at this firm, he stands out head and shoulders above them all — not only because of his height but also because of the aura he exudes.
“In fact, I have two Shepherds and a Rottweiler,” he says, warmly.
He’s obviously a dog lover, as am I.
“No way,” I say, dropping my professional demeanor as I become excited about the similarities. “Mine is actually a Rottie/ Shepherd mix.”
He beams, and I suddenly realize that all the Barbies are staring at me with their mouths wide open.
Then I realize who I’m talking to.
Asher Marks is sitting beside me. And he’s acting like we’re old friends.
I momentarily freeze, but as soon as I snap back to reality, I can’t help but sneak a peek back over at the Barbies. Their perfectly lipsticked mouths are still hanging open, as they stare at me in obvious disbelief.
“I’m Asher Marks,” he says, extending a hand for me to shake.
“I…” know, I want to say.
I know. I’ve heard so much about you. Most of it just a few minutes ago, as I was hiding in a bathroom stall.
But I catch myself just in time.
“I am pleased to meet you, Mr. Marks. I’m Madilyn St. Clair.”
“I know,” he says, not bothering to catch himself like I did.
He stares straight at me, as if he’s reading my mind.
“I know who you are,” he repeats.
The chill from this morning returns to me. I remind myself to use good posture and try to sit up straight like him. I feel super uncomfortable and wish I had either gone shopping for a bigger suit or lost a good ten pounds before I started this job. I’m still trying to squeeze into suits from my summer clerking job during law school — when I was thinner — and denying that it’s time to upgrade to a bigger size.
Asher continues staring into my eyes, clearly not as concerned with my wardrobe issues as I am. The way he looks at me makes me feel a lot sexier than I feel.
“You’re the new associate, and you clerked at Roybal, Wilson & Maine last summer. Our firm wasn’t smart enough to snatch you up the first time around. But once I saw your resume during your 3L year, I made sure to rectify the situation.
“You…?” I begin yet trail off yet again.
Asher Marks saw my resume?
He’s the reason I have this job?
“Well, thank you,” is all I can think of to say.
“Don’t thank me,” he says. “It’s for the good of the firm. We need associates like you around here. I think you’ll do very well.”
I nod my head and look up as Cameron Sanchez, one of the named partners at the firm, approaches the head of the table and starts the meeting. It appears that the purpose is to introduce the new associates, and that means me. I can’t allow myself to slip into fantasy land.
As Mr. Sanchez starts talking, I’m conscious of Asher Marks by my side — and of the fact that the Barbies keep whispering and pointing — but I try not to act as flustered as I feel. There are people to listen to and look at and try to impress, which is my job as a junior associate and so I turn to the task at hand.
Maybe later I’ll think more about Asher — professionally, of course, I chide myself, reminding myself that I can’t be as bad as the Barbies when it comes to mixing work with pleasure — but right now is not the time.
Asher
Cameron Sanchez — whom I call Ron and who has been with me since I started this firm many years ago — gives his introductory talk about the firm’s history, philosophy and values. I’ve heard this fucking speech many times and it’s not aimed at me. So, I keep my attention on Madilyn, who sits beside me taking notes on her laptop.
She’s conscious of my presence. I can feel it. She does a good job of trying to be intent on her note-taking, but she has her tells that let me know that she knows I’m here. She taps her foot now and then before catching herself.
She smooths down her luxurious dark brown hair that I plan to run my fingers through, just as soon as she lets me. And I know she’ll let me. Her hands shake a little bit as she types.
She is everything I love in a woman. Studious, intelligent, confident, yet eager for approval. And sexy as fuck.
I can’t stop staring at her curves. Her black skirt hugs her lovely hips perfectly, just like I plan to. Her blouse reveals just a tiny peak of cleavage but I know she’ll show me more eventually. Her dark brown eyes are inquisitive and curious but they’re also mysteriously beautiful.
When I first sat down next to her, she looked surprised that I knew who she was. Then when we started talking she looked even more surprised to find out that I had essentially hired her.
Damn right I do.
Damn right I had.
This is my firm. Some lawyer friends helped me with the logistical details of getting it off the ground and they run the place during my frequent absences — I’m an outdoors guy and can’t stand the confines of a year-round office — but everyone knows that it wouldn’t be a fucking firm without me. None of the partnership shares would be as big.
Nothing gets done without my say so. And no one gets hired without my input.
I wanted to hire Madilyn St. Clair from the moment I saw her resume. I didn’t interview her, but I saw her walk through the office on her way to Ron Sanchez’ office, and I was glad I had listened to my initial gut feeling to bring her in.
I can feel my cock growing hard just from thinking about fucking her. I know everything about her except what she looks like with her naked ass up in the air while I spank it. But that’s about to change.
“And now I’d like to introduce Asher Marks, without whom nothing you see here would be possible,” says Ron, from the front of the conference room. “Asher, I’ll let you take it from here.”
I’m annoyed that my fantasy about Madilyn is interrupted. But I can wait to indulge myself in pleasure until after my business obligations are concluded. My job is calling, and I always do what it takes to answer, even though I’d love to languish in my thoughts of all the things I want to do — and will do — to Madilyn St. Clair.
I stand up and head to the front of the conference room, conscious of some female associates at the far end of one of the tables, who appear to be salivating over me. Candace Smith, Mandy Calderon and Tara Mason.
They were all decent candidates for associates, but none of them are made of the stuff that Madilyn is — intellectually or physically. I don’t want any of them in the same way I want her. Joseph Miller, a mediocre recruit from an out of state law school, sits by them, wanting to do to any of those three girls the same thing that it’s really fucking obvious all of them want me to do to them.
I nod in Joseph’s direction, and he straightens up, a shit eating grin on his face that says, He noticed me.
What I wanted to convey to him with the look I threw him was more along the lines of, Good luck, buddy. They’re all yours.
I pat Ron on the shoulder and he sits down.
“Thank you for that introduction, Cameron,” I say, using his full name that Ron goes by at the firm and with everyone other than his close friends like me. “That was too kind.”
I look out at the audience: twenty- five new associates eager to rise to the top. Some of them eager to get there by any means possible, including, for the female population, being mentored by me, and everything that might entail.
I know that some of them — including Candace, Mandy, and Tara — and maybe Joe, too — would want to be my mentee even if it isn’t a surefire path to partnership or lateraling to another good firm. Which it is — because I make sure it always is — but some just consider the career benefits a bonus and what they’re really after are my domineering ways and my larger than average cock.
I know I have a certain reputation. I like it that way. Nothing happens here that I don’t fucking want and like. Everyone knows that.
What I want right now — and for the foreseeable future — is Madilyn St. Clair. And everyone is about to find that out.
Asher
I click a button on the laptop in front of me, which starts a slideshow on the projector above my head.
“Welcome to the law firm of Marks, Sanchez & Reed,” I begin. “Here on the screen you can see our first office. We set up shop in the Northeast Heights when we couldn’t afford downtown real estate and when Albuquerque was only half the size it is now.”
I click a button, and our current building appears on the screen. It’s the tallest one in Albuquerque, and the firm name appears across the top of it.
“While this firm bears my name as first and foremost on its letterhead, I couldn’t have gotten here without — as the Beatles say — a little help from my friends.”
I click forward to a photo of me and Ron Sanchez and Jim — whose full name is Jameson — Reed, at a black tie fundraising gala last year. And then to a photo of the three of us twenty years ago, toasting to the news that we had settled a big case and had enough money to move to a new and better office.
“Since childhood I’ve had the knack for entrepreneurship and for making money. This story ages me — if the Beatles reference and talk about historical Albuquerque hasn’t already — ”
Everyone laughs. The three female associates at the side table try to sound sexy with their rather obviously forced laughter, while Madilyn sincerely lets loose a good belly chuckle.
“But I started my neighborhood’s first marble ring at age eight,” I continue. “If you wanted a better marble, you traded yours in to the kid who had the one you wanted, and paid him ten cents. Five of it went to him, and five to the ringleaders.”
The laughs continue.
“When times were good — whenever a kid had gotten paid extra for doing an errand around the house, or Grandma came to visit and gave him a quarter — kids improved their marble collection. And when times were bad — when a kid wanted the latest comic book but didn’t have the money, or he was being bullied by some other kid at lunch who required a pay-off to leave him alone — kids sold their marbles to make a little cash. But the house always won. And the ring wouldn’t have been the ring without my other ringleaders.”
I nod at Ron, my closest friend and business partner.
“The rest moved on, moved out of the neighborhood, disappeared. But one of them was Cameron Sanchez. We’re still leading the ring today.”
Everyone claps.
“Thank you for the applause.” I acknowledge. “But my point is that it takes a team of hard working, intelligent and — most of all — trustworthy people to build any organization that’s worthwhile. We find you trustworthy and loyal, and that was one reason that each of you were chosen as associates.”
I look directly at Madilyn. She returns my stare for a second, and then looks down at her laptop. Her cheeks redden slightly. I want her ass cheeks to match them after I get done spanking her.
“There’s a meaning to the fact that all of you are here today. The firm believes in you and wants you as part of the team. The firm has a very special purpose for each of you.”
Again I look at Madilyn.
I can tell, even with the lights dimmed for the projector presentation and even with her face downcast, that she’s blushing even more now.
She knows I want her. I’ve never been one to hide my desires. And I know she wants me too. She just has to give into her own desire. I have ways to make that happen.
I click a button, and a photo appears on the screen of five guys — one of them being me — on top of a mountain.
“This is my climbing team on top of Mount Everest last summer.”
The crowd gasps. It’s a breathtaking view.
“We got there not right away but little by little, working together and as a team. It’s why I wasn’t here to meet any of you who were clerks last summer. But I did learn valuable lessons to bring back to you. We are all on the same team. We all must do our part. We each must do what is asked of us.”
I stare straight at Madilyn, who shifts her eyes up at me and then back down.
She’s acknowledging that I want her, and silently confirming that she wants me too.
“The concept of teamwork, of working together and helping each other, is why I started the associate mentoring program,” I continue.
I can see the three women sitting at the end of the table straighten up. Undoubtedly, they’ve heard of this program. They know that whichever associate is my mentor also becomes my lover. And they all want to be that associate.
And that’s why they won’t be. Because they’re too fucking eager. I hate easy targets. I like a challenge.
I look at Madilyn and continue.
“Your mentors will find you later this afternoon and set up an initial appointment,” I tell the room. “The rest of today’s orientation will be about office procedures such as billing, using the brief bank, working on assignments, using the firm software and computers and the like.”
Everyone continues taking notes even though the meeting is over. Everyone hangs on my every word. Especially the girls who think I’m going to choose one of them as my mentee. But they’re wrong. Because I only want Madilyn.
“There are a lot of useful practical things you’ll be learning in these first few days and weeks,” I continue. “But your meetings with your mentors will be where you get into the heart and soul of practicing law, so make this first one count. Your mentor will be your coach, your guide, and your guru. It is my hope that these relationships will serve you well throughout your associateship here at Marks, Sanchez & Reed.”
Everyone waits with bated breath. They want to find out who their mentors are. And, perhaps even more importantly to some of them, who my mentee is.
I smile, knowing that I’ve teased them long enough.
“Monique has a list of mentors matched with mentees that she will pass out now before starting the portion of orientation that deals with payroll and benefits. There isn’t much rhyme or reason to why mentors were paired with mentees, since we don’t know much about you yet, and we only hope to be able to make some good guesses based on stated interests and goals.”
The three women in the front are whispering to each other, and it’s obvious they don’t believe me. They know that my mentee is carefully chosen ahead of time, as are many of the others. But some are assigned randomly, and it’s best to stress that part so that there are no accusations of favoritism or unfairness.
“Without further ado, I’ll leave you in the good hands of Monique.”
Everyone looks disappointed, but I couldn’t help one last tease, before I make my big announcement. Here it comes, and only one person is going to like it.
At least, she better like it. And if she doesn’t now, she will come to like it. Because I’ll be very good at persuading her.
“I’ll be leaving for the rest of the day. I’ve got client business to attend to and you’ll soon learn that the practice of law never stops. But before I go, I’m pleased to announce that my mentee this year is Madilyn St. Clair. I’m happy with the assignment, and I hope that all of you will be just as pleased with yours.”
I can hear Tara Mason’s gasp as I walk towards the exit. She covers her mouth, but whispers to Mandy. Annoying tendencies such as these are one of the many reasons I would never choose her as my mentee.
I look at Madilyn and raise my eyebrows. She’s staring straight back at me, as if taking me up on the challenge.
There’s nothing I like better than a challenge. It’s why I’d choose a Madilyn over a Tara — or anyone in her crew — a thousand times over. And as if showing me just how much of a challenge she’s going to be, Madilyn lowers her eyes once again.
But I know she’s heard my message loud and clear — I’ve made sure of it, by delivering it in front of a room full of her peers — and now it’s up to her to respond to my cues.
For extra effect, I drop a folded piece of stationery paper in front of her before leaving the room.
If she is the woman I think she is, then she will be mine for the taking.
And I have never been wrong about this sort of thing.
My knack for women is as good as my knack for entrepreneurialism and money making. It hasn’t always been this way — my knowledge for what women want wasn’t as ingrained in me since childhood like the marble ring or other business ventures I started at a young age.
I had to learn the hard way, to move from what I knew I didn’t want to what I knew I do want. But once I realized it, I’ve been as right about women as I have been about business and the law.
And I know enough about women to know that, one way or another, Madilyn St. Clair is going to be mine.
Madilyn
I tell myself not to open the note until orientation is over, but I can’t help myself. But as Monique explains HR and billing policies that I already know from my boring early morning hours sitting in Cubicle Hell in front of my computer, it begins to feel as if the note is burning a hole on the conference room table in front of me.
I can see that the Barbies are almost as anxious for me to open the note as I am. I also notice, once Monique passes around the list of mentors, that they don’t seem too pleased with their assigned mentors.
They keep sneaking glances over at me and talking amongst themselves. Telling myself that I want them to strain their necks trying to look at what the note says, I finally open the folded-over piece of paper. Honestly, though, I can’t stand the anticipation any longer myself.
The stationery is fancy; the old-fashioned kind that no one ever even uses anymore. The initials ACM are embossed on it, and at the top, it says:
From the desk of Asher Charles Marks, Esquire.
The note is short and simple.
Madilyn,
Come to my office after orientation to receive instructions for your first training session. — Asher.
My heart jumps up into my throat. The note sounds professional enough, but there’s an undertone to it that makes it a bit personal. Especially that last part.
My first training session?
Remembering that all eyes are on me — or at least those belonging to the Barbies and their little Ken Doll friend — I close the note and then type some gibberish on my laptop. I want to make it look like I’m taking notes from Asher’s note.
I want them to think I’m already being assigned big, important tasks, even though I know they think that I’m supposed to be Asher’s new sex slave or something. But I’ve only been chosen to be his professional mentee. And that’s all I’d ever agree to be, anyway.
Right? I can’t help but ask myself.
I’m not sure what to make of this situation. I’m flattered that Asher chose me as his mentee, but I want to have a nice, professional relationship with him. Isn’t it possible that he chose me because of my intelligence and proven track record of hard work?
But then, that means he isn’t into me physically. Just like the Barbies predicted. Maybe even because of my cankles.
I will myself not to look down self-consciously at my ankles. I don’t want to let the Barbies know they’ve gotten to me. And I know logically that the size or shape of my ankles haven’t changed one bit since I last looked down at them in the bathroom stall this morning.
And obviously Asher doesn’t care about my supposed cankles. Whether he’s interested in being my mentor for professional reasons or personal reasons or both, he clearly chose me out of all the other possible mentees, cankles and all.
Not knowing which choice to root for — Does he want me for my brain, or my body? — I feel restless, wishing that orientation could be over already. But it just drags on all day long, with no seeming end in sight.
As the afternoon inches forward to a close, I’m mad at myself for being excited about seeing Asher once orientation ends. But I can’t get him out of my head, and I’m glad I’ll soon find out what exactly he has in mind to do with me.
Madilyn
Finally, the orientation ends. As I stand up to leave — trying not to look like I’m in too much of a rush — the Barbies and their Ken rush over to me.
Looks like I’ve made some friends.
“Hey, Madilyn,” says Candace, a fake grin spreading over her face. “How are you? I’ve been meaning to come say hi. Catch up with you a bit.”
“Hi there,” I say, trying to plaster an equally fake grin across my own face. “Last time I saw you was when I was lending you my Torts outline.”
I watch her blush and I know she’s thinking about how she was too hungover all during law school to study properly. And she wonders why Asher would pick me to mentor instead of her.
“I’m Mandy,” Mandy says. “We met at — ”
“The mixer,” I fill in for her, extending my hand for her to shake. “You really like those Rum Runner drinks.”
Now it’s Mandy’s turn to blush.
“And I’m Tara,” Tara pipes in. “This is Joe.”
I resist the urge to remark, “You mean you’re the third Barbie, and this is Ken.”
I decide I’ve gotten in enough zingers for the afternoon.
Everyone shakes hands all around, and then I’m glad that the re-introductions are over. I also want the entire conversation to be finished for good so that I can go see Asher.
“So, it looks like Mr. Marks has assigned himself as your mentor,” Candace says. “Lucky you!”
“Lucky me!” I repeat.
“Did he give you a note?” Mandy asks, butting in. “I noticed he may have given you a note. What does it say?”
“It just has some assignments to start working on,” I tell them, already having rehearsed my answer.
“This soon?” Joe doesn’t even try to hide his jealousy. “Like what kind of assignments?”
“Oh, some research memos and simple discovery stuff,” I lie.
But to my defense, I’m sure that’s what kind of assignments Asher will give me, because they’re the typical assignments.
It’s not like he’s going to assign me sexual duties or anything.
Right? I ask myself again.
“Look, it’s been nice chatting,” I tell him, more anxious than ever to go see Asher and find out what the hell he has in mind. “But it’s been a long day, and I need to head home.”
“We were only trying to be friendly,” Tara says, crinkling her nose up like a pug dog. “You don’t have to be so snooty.”
“I appreciate it,” I tell them. “I really do. I just have some plans and need to be going. And snooty is all just a matter of perception now, isn’t it? Let’s catch up soon though!”
“Definitely,” Candace says, waving a perfectly manicured hand at me. She elbows Tara, as if to put her in her place for being snarky with me.
Cankles: One. Barbies and Ken: Zero, I think, as I head off down the hallway on my own.
I’m too excited thinking about what Asher has in store for me to care about them anymore. This day is finally going the way I was hoping it might but in a totally different way than I had ever expected.
Madilyn
In planning my first day of work before I’d actually started it, I’d assumed I’d head back to my office after today’s orientation and continue setting it up and start working on any new assignments or notes from that day’s instructions.
But since I don’t have an office yet, I sit down at my cubicle and stare at my computer.
There isn’t really any new work to get started on. At least, not until I see Asher. I just want to make sure that the Barbies and Ken leave, so they don’t see me going to his office on the seventeenth floor and start asking me even nosier questions.
I upload the notes I took during today’s orientation session to my drive on the firm server. I think about opening up the billing software and seeing if there’s a category for “training.” I doubt it, since the only hours that count are actual billable and collectible time spent working on client matters.
But then I see something flash in the corner of my computer screen. The IT guy had told me that app was for the intra-office instant messaging system. But I wasn’t expecting to get any messages yet.
I gulp and then click on the flashing light, somehow knowing who it’ll be.
Asher Marks: Did you read my note?
My fingers hover above the mouse, nervous to answer.
Madilyn St. Clair: Yes.
Asher Marks: Well, are you coming?
I gulp again.
Great.
I’m already being chastised by my new mentor. But I can’t help looking up and around and over my shoulder.
How does he know I’m here?
A thousand possible explanations run through my mind. He knows what time the orientation was scheduled to finish. It’s the end of the day so he assumes I’ll be here. Maybe the partners can see when the associates’ computers are online. The instant messaging system does alert them when I’m online.
But I still feel as if I’m being watched.
And I don’t know whether to be creeped out or intrigued. I guess I feel a mixture of both. Like with everything else today, my emotions seem to be a big jumbled mess and jump all over the place.
I know I’d better answer him, right away.
Madilyn St. Clair: Yes, just had to upload my orientation notes. I’ll be right up.
His answer is instantaneous.
Asher Marks: Good.
This is clearly not a man who is used to waiting. He’s a man used to people jumping when he says jump. And he’s letting me know that I didn’t jump quickly enough.
Oops.
My heart pounds as I take the elevator up to the senior partner floor. It’s obvious that Asher is trying to exert some sort of power play over me, and I can only imagine what he has in store for me when I get to his office.
If what the Barbies say is true, then he expects me do more for him than write research memos. Will he bend me over the desk and spank me? Does he have a bookcase that turns into some torture device or leads to a secret love den?
I blush at my thoughts. I want to laugh at their ridiculousness but I also have no idea what to expect. I can feel my panties dampening a bit, and I can’t believe I’m getting turned on by thoughts of what my boss and new mentor could do to me.
But they’re just thoughts, I remind myself, as the elevator door opens and I head to his office. And they’re natural. He’s older, powerful and really fucking hot, to boot. And it’s not like my love life has been on fire any time recently.
I can’t help but feel lucky that the mysterious man I’d spent this morning masturbating over is now calling me to his office for some sort of intrigue.
I take a breath and knock on Asher’s office door.
“It’s unlocked,” he says. “Come in.”
Unlocked?
Who has a lock on their office door?
Apparently, Asher Marks.
As I step into his office, I realize he has a lot of things that other lawyers at the firm don’t.
For one thing, his office is much larger than any other office I’ve seen in the firm. It has the best view of the Sandia Mountains. It boasts a large screen TV. A leather couch and recliner. A Mad-Men-style bar, a golf practice area and stacks of weights and kettle bars.
When I finally focus my gaze on him, as he sits behind his large mahogany desk, he’s still looking down at his work.
“Madilyn. Come in.”
He waves his hand at me, still without looking up.
I obediently take a few steps forward.
“Wait,” he says, holding up a finger. “Please close and lock my door first.”
I pause.
“It’s my office policy,” he says. “You’re to do it every time.”
“Yes, Mr. Marks.”
I close the door, and then lock it.
“Call me Boss,” he says.
He’s got to be kidding, I think.
But when I turn towards him again, he’s finally looking at me with a sincere expression on his handsome face.
His brown eyes stare into mine in a way that seems as if he can see through me. He smells musty and masculine as if he’s been outdoors. His office smells like wood.
“Yes, Boss.”
I hope I don’t blush as I say it.
I have to admit to myself that it feels exciting.
“Okay, good. Now come over here to my desk. I’ve been waiting for you.”
Thank you for reading. There’s more where this came from! If you want more of this story about Madilyn and her boss — plus a lot of other steamy older man/younger woman office romance stories in one book — check out “Yours, Boss” on Sizzling Hot Reads.
I’ll show her the ropes.
Then I’ll tie her up with them.
Asher: Madilyn St. Clair doesn’t know it, but I hand-picked her to be the newest employee at my firm. I’ve assigned myself as her mentor, and I plan to teach her everything I know. And I do mean everything. I’m her first boss and I want to be her first… everything else as well. I knew I wanted her before she even started working here. And now that she’s here, I really f*cking want her. Those curves. That smile. The way she looks at me with those innocent yet sultry eyes. It all drives me wild, and I know I can claim her as my own. She makes me chase her, but I know she’ll be saying “Yes, Boss” soon. No one can stop me from taking what I want… except maybe myself. I built this firm from the ground up, and I don’t follow anyone’s rules. But I do have my own rules to ensure I don’t lose everything I’ve made, by playing fast and loose with my heart, just like I’m starting to do with her. Because now I’m already wanting to put a ring on her finger. And my baby in her belly.
I’m used to getting what I want, but I’m not used to wanting something more.
Madilyn:
My boss is not supposed to be trying to sleep with me. And I’m not supposed to want to let him. Asher Marks and I couldn’t be any different if we tried. We’re both ambitious lawyers, but that’s where comparisons end. He’s a lot older than me. And much more experienced than I am, both in the courtroom and in the bedroom. He’s filthy rich and the word around the firm is that he’s a player. I can’t stand guys like him. He thinks he can do what he wants whenever he wants. He wants me to say, “Yes boss,” “Please boss,” “More boss.” Maybe even, “Take me, boss,” and “Knock me up, boss.” “Tie me up and give me your babies, boss.” These are all things I used to think I’d never say to anyone. But for some strange reason, I start to want to say it all to him. I want to let him have me. What has gotten into me? I’m usually the type of woman who likes to stay in control… of my life, my career and my relationships.
So why do I want to give it up — quite literally — to my boss, of all people? And what will happen to my career — and my heart — if I do?
Here for the first time in one big box set are all EIGHT books in the Yours, Boss series. There are approximately 350,000 words-over 750 pages-of juicy content to devour!
They follow Madilyn and Asher, and then their friends and colleagues, as they find hot, forbidden love in the workplace and in life.
Each book is a full-length standalone steamy contemporary bad boy boss and curvy virgin office romance novel with no cliffhanger, no cheating and a happily ever after.
