Sam

1252 Words
Mr. Whitaker was the sort of man who commanded the room without saying a word. Sitting behind his desk, his face freshly shaven, his dark hair perfectly styled, he seemed to fill up every space in the large room without opening his mouth, taking all of the oxygen away from Mia as she stared at him from the entryway. She’d remembered to knock—that was something. He couldn’t be angry at her for that. So why was he staring at her with such a narrowed gaze? Mia cleared her throat and said, “You wanted to see me, sure? I’m Mia. The new secretary.” She wasn’t even sure if he had had a say in hiring her. She hoped he had. It would be odd if he didn’t even know he had a new secretary. Sam leaned back in his chair and yanked on his royal blue tie, though it didn’t seem to loosen any. “I know who you are, Mia. Come here, please.” Mia came over, not sure what she should do when she got there. Two chairs sat on the side of the table closer to where she was standing, but he hadn’t mentioned sitting, so she just stood there, awkwardly looking at him. He wasn’t looking at her expression, though. His eyes were roaming up and down her body, exploring every curve, every bit of visible skin, perhaps even through her clothing which seemed even thinner than they had a few moments before. After what seemed like forever, he cleared his throat and sat up. “How are you today, Mia?” “I’m good. Well. I’m well, thank you.” She tried not to roll her eyes. She sounded dumb. Or at least nervous. “How are you, sir?” “I’m doing just fine, thank you.” He had a small smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth as if he thought what she’d said was humorous. Perhaps it was. “You’ve signed your contract?” “Yes, sir.” She’d signed it. She hadn’t understood it, apparently, but she had signed it. “You understand that I might ask you to perform certain tasks that you might find odd? Perhaps a bit uncomfortable at first?” Mia swallowed hard as his jade eyes bore into her. “Yes, sir.” It was more of a whisper than anything else. He nodded. “And you’re all right with these requirements?” “Yes, sir.” She wasn’t certain that was true, but she wasn’t able to say anything else at the moment. Mr. Whitaker continued to stare at her for a few moments. Mia stood still, trying not to look directly at him. He was attractive, that was for certain, but he had a dark, brooding air about him that made her feel that he was dangerous in a way she couldn’t quite explain—not that he was a murderer or a rapist, but a kind of danger that might suck a woman in and make her do things she wouldn’t normally think of doing. “Mia, there’s a pencil on the floor across the room. Do you see it?” She turned her head and saw the pencil he was referring to but didn’t move. “Yes, sir.” “In a moment, I would like for you to cross the room. Turn so that your back is to me, and bend down and pick up the pencil. Don’t stoop or crouch—bend over and pick it up. Slowly. Do you understand?” “I think so, sir.” Mia fought the urge to raise her eyebrows. It wasn’t a surprise that he wanted to check out her ass, the way his eyes were crawling all over the front of her, but she wasn’t exactly sure how to feel about purposely bending over to pick up a pencil just so he could stare at her bottom. She’d do it, though. She’d do it because she needed the money. And really, what harm could there be in it? It wasn’t as if he was even laying a finger on her… yet. “Go.” His one word was enough to command her. Mia turned and slowly made her way across the room. She made sure she was turned so that her backside would be directly in his line of view. Then, she leaned over, slowly, keeping her knees straight, and picked up the pencil, waiting a moment with her bottom still in the air, before she slowly straightened up. He made a low, guttural sound in his throat. Mia stopped, not wanting to turn and look at him until she was certain he had control of himself. “Bring it here, he said.” Still moving slowly, she turned and walked across the space with the pencil. He took it from her, his fingertips grazing her hand. There was an immediate reaction deep in her core as electricity rocketed up her arm. Mr. Whitaker dropped the pencil into a holder on his desk. “Mia, I would like for you to accompany me to lunch today. We’ll leave at 11:30. Please come in at that time.” “Yes, sir. Is there anything else, sir?” She folded her hands in front of herself, feeling the lingering sensation from his touch. “No. That’s all for now. You may go.” Mia smiled at him and turned to walk back out of his office, taking her time, though part of her wanted to run. It wasn’t as if she didn’t like Mr. Whitaker. It was only the oddness of his expectations and the unknown. Mia had a feeling picking up pencils so he could look at her backside would not be the most invasive request her new boss made of her. If it got more personal, more… intimate… would she be willing to do it? When she stepped out of Mr. Whitaker’s office, her heart was racing. Veronica was still standing near her desk, which was a surprise. She assumed she would’ve gone. “How was it?” “Fine,” Mia said, trying not to breathe too heavily as she crossed back to her desk. She set a reminder that she was supposed to go back in at 11:30. Veronica continued to stare at her. “Did he ask you to do anything… strange?” On the surface, he hadn’t. Picking up a pencil off of the floor wasn’t strange. “No,” she said, trying to sound nonchalant. “Huh….” Veronica said with a shrug. “Well, if you need anything, my extensions right here on this list.” She pointed to a list next to the phone. “Thanks. I appreciate your help, Ms. Smithy.” “You can call me Veronica,” she said, half-smiling. Veronica turned and left, leaving Mia by herself. She immediately gripped her hand, the one he’d touched, with the other, as if she could somehow feel his essence still lingering there. She sat back in her chair and closed her eyes. Never in her life had Mia ever envisioned she might take a job like this one—one where she was essentially a s****l object. As frightening as it was, there was something alluring about it as well. Or maybe that was just her new boss. Either way, she wasn’t running out of the office screaming. Would she learn to like Mr. Whitaker’s odd requests? Only time would tell.
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