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There were many things I knew about my boss, some I'd

  known from the start and others I'd learned only over time.

  When it al came down to it, though, I liked Paul very

  much. Whatever had his garters snapping, it was going to

  make it impossible for him to get some work done until it

  was resolved.

  "Go get yourself a mug of coffee," I told him. "I'l send off these reports and see you in ten minutes."

  I hadn't given him permission, and it was nothing he

  couldn't have decided for himself, but the relief in his eyes

  at my suggestion made me glad I'd made it. I flipped

  through the reports while he poured his coffee and made

  some notes about what needed to be sent where, then

  ducked down the hal to visit the restroom then make

  some copies so I could be back in time to meet with him.

  He sat in a familiar slouch at his desk when I pushed open

  He sat in a familiar slouch at his desk when I pushed open

  his door, but he turned his attention immediately to me.

  "Paige, hi. Would you sit down, please?"

  I did, and watched his gaze flicker over my bared knees as

  I crossed my legs. "Is something wrong?"

  "No. Nothing's wrong. I just…wanted to talk to you."

  I waited. Paul drew in a breath and pushed back in his

  chair to run a hand over the top of his head. He'd taken off

  his suit jacket, but his tie was as snug to his throat as if it

  had grown there. He cleared his throat, and I waited

  another ten seconds for him to speak.

  "It's about your performance."

  I sat up a little straighter. "Yes?"

  "It's past time for your first review."

  I understood that. Kely Printing, like most companies,

  gave annual reviews, but they also had an introductory

  probation period for al new employees. They'd told me

  about it when they hired me. Six months into the new job,

  you could be out on your ass if you didn't live up to

  expectations. It was hard to believe I'd been here that

  long. It felt more like forever, actualy.

  Again, I waited for him to speak. That was the thing with

  Paul. He took his time with talk. I thought it was because

  each word that came from him had to mean something,

  like he had to weigh their worth before he said them.

  Unlike writing, you can't scratch out speech. Once it's

  said, there's nothing you can do to erase it.

  "I just wanted you to know I'l be giving you the highest

  ratings, that's al. And recommending you for advanced

  training."

  My pleased smile sat oddly on my face, which had been

  expecting to frown. "Realy? Great. Thanks, Paul."

  He seemed a little more at ease once he'd told me, though

  his fingers stil toyed nervously with his pen. He roled it

  onto the edge of the blotter, then off. It hit the desk with a

  sharp click.

  "You're welcome. I've been very pleased with your work."

  "I've enjoyed working with you."

  He nodded a bit and focused his attention on the pen.

  "There are some opportunities available in-house. A good

  recommendation could…um…lead the way to some of

  them."

  This was interesting news I wasn't sure how to process.

  "Like what?"

  "Promotion opportunities."

  I read the buletin boards in the hal by the office mail every

  day. I saw the internal-job postings along with the memos

  on company policy and announcements about the holiday

  parties and picnics. Nothing there had caught my eye or

  sent me into spasms of excitement. I'd never considered

  applying for any of them. I stil intended to get my MBA

  when they'd chip in to pay for it.

  "Such as?" I leaned forward.

  "They're looking for someone to start in a new entry-level

  marketing position in Vivian Darcy's department."

  "And if I don't want to work for Vivian?"

  For a moment, Paul looked pleased before he smoothed

  For a moment, Paul looked pleased before he smoothed

  his features into studied neutrality. "It's something to think

  about. You can't be an assistant forever, Paige."

  That was certainly true, and I was touched he cared

  enough to think so. "I don't plan to be."

  "This could be a good chance for you," he said.

  And that was true, too. So why did we both look so sad?

  I knew from Eric's schedule that he'd be home around

  eight o'clock today. I gave him half an hour for dinner,

  another fifteen minutes for a shower. If he was as eager as

  I was to folow the instructions I'd left him, it wouldn't be

  more than that.

  The black trench coat I wore wasn't meant to make me

  look like a pervert, though that's what I felt like as I

  entered the parking garage. I'd picked it to help

  camouflage me in the shadows, but I had toyed with the

  idea of going naked beneath it. I ended up putting on black

  jogging pants and a black T-shirt instead, not bold enough

  to go bare. I might have had I had a note teling me to do

  it, I thought with a smile as I climbed the second flight of

  stairs.

  stairs.

  I came out onto a nearly empty level. At this time of night

  the spots taken up by daytime commuters would be

  vacant. But from this level I had a clear view across the

  street and into Eric's first-floor apartment.

  The concrete wal hit me chest high, but I could lean on it

  to look across the street. At 9:00 p.m., night had already

  falen. The orange lights of the parking garage lit the door

  to the stairs and hit every other pilar, but none was above

  my head and so I had no glare to distract me. The

  streetlights, too, were placed far enough apart they didn't

  interfere with my voyeurism.

  I hadn't brought a pair of binoculars, but realy didn't need

  them. The street between the buildings was one-way and

  narrow. I could have spit and hit his window. Inside his

  apartment, the lights went on.

  My ears rang, and I let out the breath I'd been keeping

  prisoner in my lungs. He was there. This was realy going

  to happen.

  Everyone peeks. We do it al the time when we drive past

  houses at night with the lights on, in hotel rooms we can

  see into from across a courtyard, when we pass a half-

  see into from across a courtyard, when we pass a half-

  closed office door. I'd never set out to spy in hopes of

  catching someone doing something naughty. I couldn't

  decide if the tension in my gut and tingling in my fingertips

  were from ilicit arousal or self-loathing.

  The former, I thought as the curtains in Eric's bedroom

  twitched and the light came on in there, too. I was more of

  a pervert than I'd ever imagined. Voyeurism had never

  melted my butter before, but knowing this would get him

  off, that this was a trigger for him, got my nipples hard and

  built an ache between my thighs I knew I'd have to

  aleviate with my own hand before the night was through.

  He stood at the window for a minute or two, looking out

  for so long I wondered if he could see me. With the light />
  inside his room and the dark out here, I didn't think so. I

  didn't dare move. Shielded by shadows, I drew in slow,

  even breaths and watched him stare out into the night. He

  didn't look as if he saw me, or anyone, though his eyes

  moved side to side, searching.

  Finaly, he turned and took a few steps toward the bed.

  He wore only a towel, his hair wet and slicked back.

  Water gleamed in silver droplets on the tanned skin of his

  back and shoulders. I wasn't quite close enough to see

  back and shoulders. I wasn't quite close enough to see

  them run in rivulets down his spine and into the crack of his

  ass below the towel's edge, but I could imagine it. And

  did.

  He hesitated, looking over his shoulder with a hand at his

  waist. I wondered if he'd ever thought so hard before

  about who might see him from outside. Though I kept my

  sheers drawn al the time, they wouldn't entirely block a

  peeper from getting an eyeful, but I'd never realy believed

  anyone was trying to. I was sure I'd think of it every time,

  now, and wonder who might be spying on me when I

  thought I was alone.

  The difference was, Eric knew he wasn't alone. I thought it

  would make it more difficult to get naked, knowing, even

  though he had said he liked it. That he wanted it. His

  shoulders hunched for a moment and then the towel was

  gone. Disappeared.

  God, from the back he was magnificent. Broad shoulders,

  lean waist, smooth skin. His ass was tight and looked firm.

  A patch of dark hair furred the smal of his back and

  drifted over his buttocks to get thicker at his thighs and

  legs. His arms, too, were covered in thick, dark hair. He

  half turned so I could see his chest and I grinned in delight.

  half turned so I could see his chest and I grinned in delight.

  Hair there, too, dark and curling around his nipples, but

  not overpowering him. A woman could stil find bare skin

  to kiss al over him, center her tongue on those nipples and

  flick them with her tongue until he cried out for mercy.

  I had to grip the concrete wal to steady myself at my

  unwinding thoughts. Austin, blond-haired and fair skinned,

  had little hair on his chest and had taken to trimming his

  pubic hair. I didn't mind grooming, but I'd gotten used to

  seen a man without so much hair. Looking at Eric opened

  up something half-embarrassing I could only think of as…

  primal.

  Eric lay on the bed, his cock in his hand. He stared at the

  ceiling as he stroked, already half-hard. In the porn I'd

  seen the men had always yanked so hard on their pricks it

  looked painful. Eric didn't start off with a two-fisted yank.

  He ran a slow hand over his bely and thighs before

  gripping his cock, which he stroked just as slowly from

  base to crown and down again before repeating the

  journey.

  I was mesmerized.

  The head of Eric's bed was against the wal opposite his

  The head of Eric's bed was against the wal opposite his

  bedroom door, which placed the bed paralel to the

  window. Like the rest of his apartment, his bedding was

  simple, even stark. He'd already puled down the black

  quilted comforter and blankets and now lay on the plain

  white sheet. He hitched himself a little higher to put his

  head on the pilow.

  Did it make a difference, knowing he was being watched?

  I thought it had to. Why else would he take such time to

  show off? The bulge and flex of his biceps had me biting

  my lower lip. So did the flex of his calves when he bent his

  legs to push his hips upward.

  I leaned forward too far, risking being seen, when his leg

  blocked the view of his gorgeous cock being stroked so

  slowly in that big fist, but as if he knew exactly what he

  was doing, Eric pushed that leg straight and bent the other,

  instead, keeping my view clear. His back arched as his

  head tipped back into the pilow. I wanted to see his face,

  but though I could make out the dark shadow of eyes and

  the slope of his nose, distance blurred his features a bit.

  With a hand stil on his erection, Eric reached with the

  other beneath his pilow to pul out a bottle. My lube came

  with a flip-top cap, but his had a squirt top, and he

  with a flip-top cap, but his had a squirt top, and he

  sprayed his hands and cock liberaly before tucking it back

  under his pilow.

  I didn't laugh because this was funny, but because this

  secret glimpse into his private sex life was so adorable,

  and told me a lot. He jerked off a lot and didn't bring

  women home to sleep over very often—people who

  shared their beds frequently didn't keep their sex supplies

  under the pilow. My earlier assessment had been right.

  People and cars passed on the street below, but I didn't let

  that distract me from the show across the way. I heard the

  squeal of tires and rumble of an occasional engine as wel

  as the hum of the parking-garage elevator, but nobody

  arrived or left on this level. Tucked against the concrete

  pilar with the wal in front of me and the night wind

  occasionaly blowing the scent of the river over me, I

  immersed myself in what he was doing and wished I were

  with him.

  I pressed my thighs together against the ache of arousal as

  I watched Eric stroking himself. Slow, then faster. I

  watched his prick disappear inside his curled fingers,

  watched how he added an extra stroke around the head

  and how he dipped lower every couple of strokes to give

  and how he dipped lower every couple of strokes to give

  his bals some attention, too. I watched, and I thought of

  how I could get the chance to show him what I'd learned.

  I couldn't hear him, but I could see his mouth open and

  watch his face contort with pleasure. His fist pumped

  faster, slick with lube, and his hips rose and fel to meet

  every stroke. If I were on top of him now, he'd be pushing

  deep inside me and my clit would be hitting his bely with

  every thrust. My cunt clenched as I watched, my clit hard

  and begging for more than the press of my panties against

  it. But I didn't touch myself. My fingers gripped the

  concrete, the pebbly surface biting into my fingertips and

  keeping me centered. Reminding me I was not in any place

  where I could risk shoving a hand down my pants and

  jiling off. I was risking enough standing here and watching.

  My body might crave the same sort of release Eric was

  giving himself, but my brain wouldn't alow me to act on it.

  Later, I promised myself grimly as sweat lined my hairline

  and trickled down my spine, tickling like a tongue. Just a

  few more minutes and he'd be done, and I'd go home and

  finish this.

  I licked salt from my upper lip and imagined it as the taste

  of him. My cunt clutched again empty, and I squeezed my

  of him. My cunt clutched again empty, and I squeezed my

  thigh muscles. God, it felt so good I did it again. An
d

  again.

  I watched him as he came, jetting his desire al over his

  flat, taut bely, and I came, too, without ever having

  touched myself. I coughed on the moist river breeze and

  scent of exhaust as pleasure ripped through me. My pussy

  spasmed, but I held stil and quiet as the door from the

  stairs opened and a laughing couple came out and headed

  for their car.

  I couldn't duck and couldn't hide, so I pretended to be

  talking on my cel phone, leaning casualy against the hood

  of a car I didn't own. Orgasm stil rippled through me as I

  lifted a hand to wave in response to their casual greeting,

  and I thanked the gods of kink I hadn't given in to ful-out

  wanking in public.

  They didn't even look toward the Manor, but I did. Eric

  had falen back into his pilows, his chest rising and faling

  and a hand flung over his eyes. I'd already put his number

  in my phone, and now I entered a rapid text message.

  Very nice.

  Half a minute later his head turned toward the nightstand,

  and he roled to his side to flip open his phone. He read

  the message and looked at the window. He got off the bed

  and stood at the window for a few seconds, his hand on

  the curtain.

  I thought he mouthed "thank you," but then he puled the

  curtain before I could be sure.

  Chapter 22

  It had begun.

  I'd thought I'd known what it was to crave the discipline of

  an anonymous master who understood just what I needed

  and how to give it to me. With one short letter, one shorter

  text message, I'd become Pink Floyd. Dark side of the

  moon. I'd ventured into the unknown.

  But was it, realy?

  In al my life, what had I craved more than anything?

  Control. Of my life, of my emotions. Of whatever situation

  I'd found myself in. The need for it was a weight I'd known

  a long time without acknowledging. It had been a huge

  part of the reason my marriage had ended, and even

  admitting it hadn't done much to change me.

  Giving up some smal measure of that control had been a

  relief. It had lifted the weight for a little while. Made it a

  little easier to bear, anyway. Because in the end, what had

  I learned but that I didn't want to give it up. I only wanted

  to learn how to use it, that desire.

  After watching Eric make himself come, I went straight to

  my apartment. I sat at my table, desire an unrelenting ache

  in my bely. I opened the lid of my satin box and puled out