His Personal Assistant

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Rich bachelor gives in to his fantasy!
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Graham Westin stood before one of the floor to ceiling windows in his bedroom, staring moodily at the city spread out below him. Lights twinkled in the darkness, but no sound from outside could be heard. He lifted the crystal tumbler and took a healthy swig of 200 year old scotch. It slid down his throat, smooth, velvety warm, to burn pleasantly in his stomach. He looked at his reflection in the glass.

At 36, he was in better shape than most men his age. Working out was his way of relaxing. Firm, well defined muscles covered his frame, and his lightly tanned skin shone with a soft glow. He wore only a pair of loose fitting sweats, sitting low on his hips. His dark hair was trimmed neatly. He looked into his face, some of it lost in shadow. He knew he was good looking. Women had begun pursuing him at age 14, and they hadn't let up since. For all the good it did him. Sure, sex whenever he wanted it, but...his lips lifted in a bitter smile. Women couldn't be trusted, not once you'd had sex with them.

His gaze moved over the reflection of the room behind him. It was softly lit, by wall sconces and the dying fire in the fireplace. The candles on the mantle had long since sputtered out, just like his interest. Two club chairs of rich brown leather sat before the fire, a clear Lucite table sitting between them. A soft fleecy throw of light blue and beige stripes was tossed over the back of one of them. A large ottoman of matching leather sat before them, and on it rested the newspaper he'd been reading earlier that night. Along one wall sat a long, sleek mahogany dresser, it's simple, clean lines reflecting his tastes perfectly. It bore only a single wood chest of highly polished pine, centered under the large mirror, which held his few pieces of jewelry and his Rolex. A pedestal of marble stood between the side windows, holding a flowing sculpture carved from oak, it's smooth curves resembling dancing flames. The color scheme was masculine, but soft, giving the room a cool, relaxed feel, which was exactly what he'd asked the decorator for.

His eyes moved to the king sized bed against the far wall. A carved headboard of polished oak rose almost to the ceiling, it's lines again simple and clean. He stared at the naked woman sprawled across the mattress, one delicate foot hanging over the edge. He felt nothing, looking at her. The only desire he felt was for her to be gone. He'd barely been able to perform tonight, until he let his thoughts drift to someone else.

Silently cursing himself, he drew his gaze back to the city below. This was unacceptable. Where had this inappropriate and unwelcome desire come from? The woman he found himself thinking about more and more, the one who was now featured in his fantasies, was off limits.

"Come back to bed, baby," His gaze moved back to the woman. She had raised her head, bracing it on one hand. The other hand moved slowly down her torso, until she reached the tight curls at her center, and began to pleasure herself.

Graham fought the urge to turn and throw the tumbler he held. He reined in his temper, and felt the cold taking over. He was good at being cold. This ability had stood him well in business, and he needed it now. He couldn't do this anymore.

He turned from the window to face her. "I don't think so," he said quietly.

Something in his tone caught her attention, and her lascivious smile faltered, her hand stilled. "What?"

He gazed at her coldly. "It's time for you to leave, Gina."

She frowned. "What?" she asked again, confused.

"I want you to leave."

She stared at him in shock. "Leave?" Her voice was tentative, as if she wasn't sure she'd heard him correctly.

"Yes, leave. Now" He remained motionless, his crystal blue eyes cold and flat as he looked at her.

She lowered the leg she'd cocked, and sat up. "What's wrong baby?"

"Nothing," he said. "I just want you to go."

"But...why?" She tilted her head as she looked at him, perplexed.

"Does it matter?"

Her lips parted, but no sound came out. Then she shook her head. "Of course it matters! What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he said again. "Just get out. I'm done with you."

Now anger suffused her face with color. "How dare you!" she raged, launching herself off the bed. She ran to him and slapped him hard. Her hand left a bright red mark on his cheek.

His hand caught her wrist in a punishing grasp. "Do that again, and you won't like the consequences," he growled, his voice low and menacing.

Gina swallowed, trembling. "I...I don't understand." Tears sprang to her beautiful hazel eyes, and caught in her thick lashes. She was an underwear model, and did very well at it. Her body was lush and perfect, her face delicate. She was as beautiful as he was handsome, and they'd made quite a stir whenever they went out in public. But she held no allure for him now.

"It was fun for a while, now it's over." Gina shivered at the coldness of his tone. This man wasn't the one she'd been dating for several months. This man was the one she'd been warned about, but hadn't personally seen before.

Graham released her wrist and turned away from her, raising the glass to his lips to take a sip of his drink, as if nothing out of the ordinary were happening. Gina stared at him for a long moment, then turned away and gathered up her clothes in silence. Graham kept his back to her. At the door, she glared at him. "You bastard!" she hissed, and stormed out, slamming the door so hard a Monet fell off the wall.

Graham didn't move, but his shoulders relaxed slightly. He sighed, and took another long drink. Now what? He looked at the large clock on the wall. In two hours his personal assistant would be here.

Alyssa Roark, his personal assistant. He'd hired her right after she graduated from college, three years ago. She was smart, very intuitive and quick on her feet. She'd proven invaluable to him, and was worth every penny he paid her. Her brain alone was worth it, but it was also packaged very nicely. She was toned, with soft curves in all the right places. Her honey blond hair hung to her waist, though she usually kept it neatly contained for work. She had a very pretty face, with bright green eyes that shone with intelligence and wit. Her lips were full and luscious, and lately... with an angry growl, Graham realized he was getting hard just thinking about her.

Why, god damn it, why? he muttered to himself. Sure, he'd seen how lovely she was when he interviewed her, and many times since. But he wasn't worried about her appearance, not back then. It was her brain that mattered. She was too valuable to him now to risk losing her over a bit of sheet warming. And that's all it would be. He didn't do permanent relationships, certainly not marriage. So after the sex, what then? She'd leave, that's what, he told himself. And sex is so not worth losing her. So get the thought out of your damn head once and for all! Downing the rest of his drink, he went to shower.

Mrs. Martin, the housekeeper, met Alyssa in the foyer, telling her that Mr. Westin was on a call and would be down shortly. Thanking her, Alyssa went to her office, on the lower floor next to Graham's. Floor to ceiling windows looked out over the lush gardens and the pool. She poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down at her antique desk. Graham had allowed her to decorate and furnish her own office, at his expense, and he hadn't put a limit on it. It was a beautiful, restful space, in shades of peach and soft green, with light colored woods and crystal accent pieces. She loved it. She savored the coffee, wonderful as always. Only the best for Graham. But what the heck, he could afford it.

She checked the schedule, which included Graham's, hers and several other key people. Then she settled to work. Thirty minutes later, she heard Graham in his office next door. She waited for his summons.

He buzzed. "Alyssa?"

"Good morning," she said warmly, noting immediately that his tone was positively frigid this morning. Sighing internally, she grabbed her leather binder, a pen and her coffee cup after he said "Please come in", and clicked the intercom off.

She didn't offer another greeting when she went in, just closed the door behind her and settled herself in the comfortable chair in front of Graham's desk. He was angled away from her, typing something into his computer. After a minute, he faced her, but he didn't look at her. His eyes dropped to the schedule she'd printed up last night and left on his desk.

"Reschedule the meeting with Robinson. I'm not liking the way the stock is dropping. Let's give it a few days."

Alyssa made a note on her pad.

"Do you have the figures for the Berrymore deal?"

Alyssa nodded, and pulled out the report. He took it and looked it over. "Are you sure about these cost overruns?"

"Yes. I've run the figures twice, and checked them with Grady."

"All right. Schedule a meeting with Dan Roble asap. What the hell is he doing?" Graham mused, frowning at the numbers.

"I think..." Alyssa began, then trailed off, biting her lip.

Graham looked up at her for the first time. "You think what?" His tone was clipped, his eyes cool.

"Well, he hasn't been the same since his wife died," Alyssa said.

Graham's lips thinned. "That was months ago."

Alyssa felt a little spurt of anger at his coldness, but she hid it well as always. "They were very close. And he's trying to deal with two small children."

Graham stared at her for a long moment, then dropped his gaze. He sighed. "I still want to meet with him. This can't continue, and he needs to realize that. And get Daniels on the phone and tell him if I don't get his ad campaign today, he's fired."

Alyssa just nodded. She'd been expecting this development. Graham didn't suffer incompetence.

"I've sent you an email of new companies to send query letters to. Please get them out today." Graham checked his watch. "Anything else?" He looked up at Alyssa, his eyes chilly, his face set in grim lines. She couldn't know it, but he was in turmoil, and was glad he was sitting behind his desk. He was hard again. Just the smell of her perfume when she entered the room had gotten him going.

She shook her head, her eyes on his. "Is...something wrong, Graham?"

He scowled and looked away. "Gina's gone."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

He shook his head once, sharply. "No, I kicked her out."

"Oh."

At her flat tone, he looked back at her, and the first hint of humor lit his eyes. "Not sorry to see her go?"

Alyssa's lips twitched. She hated the lovely Gina with a passion, not ony because she was a haughty, spoiled bitch, but because she got to enjoy a side of Graham Alyssa never would. "Well..."

He smiled now, and she couldn't help but notice how gorgeous he was when he smiled. But it was best not to go there.

"I'll need an escort for the Lakerton Charity Auction dinner. See if Vanessa White is available."

Alyssa's lips thinned, but she nodded. He looked at her. "Something wrong?"

"No, of course not."

He stared at her again, then said softly, "Maybe I should take you instead."

Alyssa stared at him in surprise. "Me?"

"Sure, why not?"

"Um..well, I guess..."

"Friday night, I'll pick you up at 7." He wondered what in the hell he was doing, but he couldn't take it back now. And the thought of spending an entire evening with her was too tempting to turn down.

"All right," Alyssa said, flustered.

The rest of the work week went as usual, except that Graham was very tense and irritable. Alyssa got more and more nervous as Friday approached. She'd never gone anywhere socially with her boss. She didn't date much, despite her good looks. She got plenty of offers, she just rarely accepted. She had her reasons. But she couldn't say no to Graham. So, she'd blown a lot of money on a designer gown and shoes. On Thursday she had her hair done, and got a full treatment at the spa. Friday afternoon she left work early to get ready.

When Graham rang her front door bell, she took a deep, calming breath, and opened it. He wore a black Italian suit, with a pale blue shirt and blue and red striped tie. He was gorgeous, and she found it hard to breathe when he just stood there staring at her.

She patted her hair, wondering if it was falling already. "Is my hair falling?"

"No," he said, and his eyes moved down her body slowly, making her stomach feel tight. "You look wonderful." His voice had gone slightly husky. She wore a snugly fitted silk gown of dark blue, with bared shoulders. The neckline showed a generous but not scandalous amount of cleavage. Her long, shapely legs were encased in silk hose, and she wore dainty heels that matched the dress. Her hair was piled up on top of her head, with a few loose tendrils hanging beside her cheeks and over her neck. Subtle makeup highlighted her beautiful eyes, and her signature scent floated up to him. She was stunning.

"Thank you," she answered, her voice shaking a little.

He looked back at her face, his eyes holding hers for a long, very uncomfortable moment. "Damn," he thought, "this is going to be tough, keeping my hands off her." He forced a smile to his face. "Ready?"

"Oh, yes, just let me get my purse and wrap." She turned away and hurried to the hall table to retrieve her purse, then grabbed the soft cashmere shawl. She was about to toss it over her shoulders when Graham stepped up and stood right behind her.

"Allow me." His quiet, deep voice sent a shiver down her spine. He settled the shawl over her bare shoulders and smiled at her in the mirror, his warm hands resting on her shoulders. "You're lovely."

Alyssa swallowed, and whispered, "Thank you."

He led her out to the car, where a uniformed chauffeur waited with the rear door open. Graham took her elbow and helped her in, then slid in beside her.

"Champagne?" he asked as the car smoothly accelerated.

"Oh, no, I'd better not start this early," she said nervously.

He smiled, and poured himself a glass. They didn't speak much during the drive. Alyssa felt his eyes on her several times. When they pulled up, he waited for the driver to open the door and stepped out, then leaned down with a hand to assist her out. She eased out carefully, and stood just as hundreds of flashbulbs went off, blinding her. Her heel caught the curb and she nearly fell.

Graham caught her around the waist and pulled her against him. He looked down into her startled eyes, and the urge to kiss her was nearly overwhelming. "Are you all right?" he asked huskily.

She nodded, unable to speak. If she wasn't mistaken, Graham was...aroused. By her? She became aware that the reporters were shouting questions at Graham, mostly asking who she was.

Graham ignored them, just smiled and pulled his arm from around Alyssa so she could hold onto it as they entered the Gateway Center.

Alyssa knew her color was high. How embarrassing to nearly fall out of the car! And the looks Graham was giving her - he'd never looked at her like that before.

Graham led her around the crowded room, introducing her to the bigwigs. She met 2 senators, the heads of huge corporations, a Saudi prince, and 3 ambassadors. He never let them linger long, and he always introduced her as his date, not as his employee. He kept a hand on her lower back, or her elbow or hand as they moved, and was very solicitous, asking if she was hungry or needed her drink refreshed. Despite her assurance she was fine, he kept stopping the roving waiters and getting her a new glass of champagne. She had no idea how much she'd drunk.

During the auction, Graham sat very close to her. At one point, he put his arm on the back of her chair, and she could have sworn she felt him toying with the tendrils of hair hanging down her neck. She shivered, and dared not look at him. He bid on several items, including a lovely emerald necklace Alyssa had admired. She was shocked when he topped the bids at twenty-five thousand.

After the auction, the orchestra played, and Graham asked her to dance. Alyssa tensed as he took her in his arms, holding her much closer than one would expect an employer to. His firm body was warm and enticing. Alyssa was surprised at her own reaction to him.

She'd just begun to relax when he pulled her even closer, and dipped his head down into the crook of her neck. He inhaled, and whispered into her ear in a low, sexy voice, "You smell wonderful." His breath stirred the loose tendrils of hair and moved warmly over her ear, causing her to shiver, and a spark of desire flared inside her. She stiffened, alarmed, and he chuckled. "Good enough to eat, I think."

Her head was whirling as sensations fluttered in her body. She stuttered, "Thhhank you."

"Mmmmm", he murmured, and his hand on her back did a slow, gentle circle, his fingers dipping down onto the curve of her ass. His other hand rested on the back of her neck, and his fingers echoed his other hand, circling lightly.

"Graham..." she began.

"Relax," he whispered, and his arms held her firmly in place. She could feel his erection, no doubt about it this time.

When the song ended, he smiled down at her, and placed a gentle kiss on her temple, before leading her off the floor.

Alyssa waited as he collected the necklace and arranged delivery of two paintings he'd bought, and they headed out. Graham was talkative on the way back, keeping her engaged so that she didn't pay attention to where they were going. She looked up in surprise when the gates of Graham's estate flashed past.

"Why are we at the estate?" she asked.

"I'd like you to come have drinks with me, and talk for a while."

She looked at him doubtfully, but didn't say anything. She followed him inside. The house was only dimly lit, and there was no sign of Mrs. Martin, or anyone else. Graham led her into his den. She sat down on an armchair as he turned on a small lamp on a corner table, then moved to turn on the gas fireplace. He switched on his stereo, and said over his shoulder, "Louis Armstrong, right?"

"Um, yes, I love him."

'(When we are Dancin) I get Ideas' came on, and she fought the nervous laugh, and then the urge to run. He was setting a seduction scene. This was wrong, on so many levels. He was her boss. He was a powerful, dominating man, so not her type. She only dated gentle, easygoing men, because they frightened her less. The last time she'd dated a man like Graham, powerful and sure of himself, she'd nearly been raped. It had made her very cautious with men. She watched him out of the corner of her eye as he poured two flutes of champagne. He carried them over and handed her one. She took a gulp, knowing she didn't need to drink any more, but needing to wet her suddenly dry mouth. He smiled, and took her hand.

"Come sit with me," he coaxed, and tugged her to her feet. He led her to the couch and sat, then pulled her down beside him. "Did you enjoy the event?"

"Yes, it was lovely," she said, staring down into her glass.

"I'm glad." He set his drink on the table, and pulled the box out of his pocket, opening it to reveal the necklace. It shimmered and gleamed in the firelight.

"It's beautiful," she said.

He didn't answer, just removed it from the box. He unclasped the necklace and turned towards her, then put it around her neck.

"What are you doing?" Alyssa tried to lean away.

"I want to see how it looks on a woman," he soothed, and got the necklace closed. His fingers trailed it back around her neck, and down to where the large emerald rested in the center of her chest, just above the swell of her breasts. Alyssa could barely breathe, and he wasn't doing any better. He stared down at it, one finger still touching it lightly. Visions of her lying naked on his bed, wearing only the necklace, filled his mind. His cock was so hard it throbbed. His eyes moved slowly up to meet hers.

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