Under Wraps - Love Under Lockdown

At the very least, I knew that that he had some sort of feelings for me, and that I had had affected him in a way no other woman ever had. It wouldn’t be right to call it “love,” but it was something powerful and beautiful, and not to be dismissed. Even if it turned out we were best as “fuck-buddies,” just two extremely sexually compatible friends who had fun, I was pretty sure I could handle that.

He was the only man I would ever let touch me; as long as we could be together in some capacity, I would at least be content. I wanted a lot more, though. Marriage, kids, a happy life together… but, I also knew that life is rarely that wonderful.

We worked clear though to dinner time. It was then, and only then, that I realized that we didn’t really have much food in the suite, and that delivery might be awkward. Donning a designer face mask and pure leather gloves, Damien went out to get groceries, coming back with several bags full.

Assuming he expected me to cook, I started to get up so I could go over and join him. My sweater and skirt had returned to their original state; I wanted him to fuck me again so badly, but I also knew that the work was really important. It was what we were there to do, after all. Keeping my focus on the work, I did my best to be a good girl for my sweet master.

“Sit,” he ordered.

“Yes, sir,” I said, instinctively going into my submissive voice.

“Sorry, I just need that script done. I am more than capable of cooking.”

“You are?”

“Of course I am. This kitchenette is actually pretty well set up. I’m going to enjoy this.”

Changing into a sweatshirt and shorts to avoid getting any unfortunate stains on his lovely work clothes, Damien set about cooking a gourmet-level meal as I finished the last of the scripts before we went into dictation.

“Wow!” I said, nearly orgasming at the first bite of food.

“Went to cooking school in Italy. I almost finished too.”

“Why did you quit?” I asked.

“Oh, I didn’t, my parents found out what I was doing and ordered me back immediately. Or, rather, my father did. My mom was an opera singer who had more of an appreciation for the arts. Dad’s personal motto was, ‘If it don’t make dollars, it don’t make sense.’ Grammar was never his strong suit.”

I giggled, nearly choking on the mouthful I had been chewing at the time, making quickly for the glass of red.

After dinner, Damien cleared everything away as I finished off the script. It was amazing to watch him speed read. I didn’t know he could do it, even with the highlighting, but he did, getting through the entire script in a little over a half hour. When he was finished, I had a bit of a break as he processed it all, lying on the couch, eyes closed, his fingers steeped on his chest. He was like Sherlock Holmes trying to unravel a mystery.

He jumped up in a way that made me scream a little in surprise, apparently full of new vim and vigor.

“Get out the laptop!” he said like a declaiming king.

Immediately obeying, I tried desperately to keep up as he dictated his argument, pacing around the room at high speed. I only understood about half of what he said, but still took it all down as faithfully as I could.

It was wonderful, being naked. I had never been great friends with the notion of bras; the one that I was wearing was flung across the room with abandon. Getting into something a lot more comfortable, fleece pants and a hoodie, I turned down the duvet, ready to go to bed as Damien reviewed the dictation, editing as needed. The knocks were light and rapid. There was only one person in the world it could be.

“Hi,” Damien said, having calmed down a lot since his strike of inspiration.

“Hello, sir,” I said, not sure if we were still being business-like or not.

“Could you be a dear and go down to the desk to see if they have Kicking Horse? I’m neck-deep in the revisions and need a pick-me-up. I meant to get some at the store, but the shelves were bare. I called down to have them send some up, but they’re not picking up.”

“Okay,” I said, ready and willing to fulfill his every wish and command.

Skipping the silent elevators, I took the stairs down to the lobby; I was pent up with quite a bit of sexual energy that I figured I would have to work out myself, with Damien being so busy. The girl at the desk was nice enough, if a little ditzy, especially for someone working in such an elite hotel as the Seventy.