Under Wraps - Love Under Lockdown

I also had an important job I never thought I would have and was living somewhere I never thought I could live. So many changes all at once. I was okay with change, generally. Anyone who wanted things to stay static was a fool in my book, though I tended to prefer evolution over revolution. I felt happy and nervous at the same time. Even as my old life ended, a new one stretched out before me like four lanes of freshly tarred blacktop.

The note was terse. Not cruel, but very business-like. It knocked me off-kilter for a moment. I hadn’t exactly been expecting a song of love and devotion, but I had figured there would be something to indicate what he felt, particularly considering what had happened between us. There was no emotion of any kind, just seven words: REPORT TO WORK WHEN YOU WAKE UP. All rendered in Damien’s fine hand.

I didn’t know if they taught penmanship at law school alongside the Latin, but if they didn’t, it was even more impressive. The words danced across the page in graceful, jet-black swoops. I had seen Damien using his fountain pen, and I remembered seeing the one on my daddy’s desk. I never really thought about them, aside from their being neat, old-fashioned things. I’d never realized how beautifully they wrote.

The note didn’t specify what my master wanted me to wear when I reported to work, just that I was to report to work. I gave a sweet moment of wicked thought to prancing out there naked; however, because he had mentioned work, I decided against it. I figured my robe would be a good compromise. I could drop it at a moment’s notice, or go and put on my business wear, if that were what my sweet master wanted of me.

Damien was in his suit. Most of it, anyway; his jacket was still hung up. His bright, red suspenders were on full display, stretched around his mighty shoulders. His crisp, white shirt stretched so tight against him as he sat at the table that I could see the ripple of every one of his back muscles. I couldn’t see his face, but I figured it was in the same sort of neutral, semi-meditative expression I had seen while we were working the day before.

“Please dress in appropriate work clothes,” Damien said, not even looking up as I sat down.

“Yes, sir,” I whispered, the chair scraping against the hardwood floor as I pushed back from the table.

It had been another gamble, like saying I couldn’t sleep and asking for his help the night before. It hadn’t worked out as well as the night before had, but it was still worth a try. I wasn’t sure why Damien was being so cold and acting like nothing had happened. He had never seemed like the asshole type, so I figured there must have been something else going on.

He could have just been deep in work; I knew as well as anyone what he was like with his head deep in research. It had only been a day, and not even a full day, since I had really met him, but I had watched him work, oblivious to all around him. I guessed that there could be an earthquake and he wouldn’t notice until a bit of ceiling plaster fell onto the document he was reading. He could also have the same concerns that I did, about mixing business with pleasure. So, so much pleasure!

The firm was pretty old fashioned, still imposing dress codes and having a strict, zero-tolerance police for inter-office romance, let alone sweet, kinky fucking. While not explicitly mentioned in the handbook, it was taken as implied.

Damien was on track to partner, the first time such a thing had happened since the firm’s founding. If what happened between us got out, he probably wouldn’t even have a job anymore, let alone a promotion. I would definitely be discarded without a second thought.

I retreated to my part of the suite and got dressed as quickly as I could. Most of had I brought was pretty sexy, and some of it was really sexy. I was trying to make a strong impression on Damien, hoping he might notice me.

However, he had made it clear that he was in business mode, so I decided to go with something a bit more modest: a tasteful blouse with a thin argyle sweater to hide my figure, and a skirt that went down a bit past my knees. I considered knee-socks, but I had never really gone for the schoolgirl look. Leaving my feet entirely bare, I marched out to bravely stare down the barrel of background research.

It was almost impossible to stay focused with such supreme sexiness so close to me. I could have reached out and touch him if, I’d had that much nerve. The room got hotter as the sun got higher in the sky. Without thinking, I shed my sweater to get more comfortable. My massive tits were straining against the material of my shirt.