Necessity is the Mother of Obsession Ch. 01

"Yes, sir, I am," she told him. "Um... John, I mean," she amended. He smiled. Her resolve melted a little more.

"Old habits die hard, don't they?" he asked, not really expecting an answer. "I guess I can overlook the occasional 'sir'. I won't rag you about it. But I'd prefer us to be less formal. For instance, I know virtually nothing about you. Your likes and dislikes, your taste in music, art, literature, men... or women... I try not to be judgmental when it comes to personal relationships. I'd love to know a lot more about you than 'my God, she's a hot, competent woman.' And I'd like you to know more about me."

She could feel her ears start to burn.

"But I don't want to put you on the spot, so I'll go first," he smiled, and there went more of her resolve.

"I'm turning 40 next month," he told her. "I did my undergraduate work at Cambridge, got my MBA at Stanford and got my J.D. at Princeton. I got my position with Sethridge Associates through my grandfather via shameless nepotism but earned my way into a Regional Vice Presidency. I am single, was engaged twice, married once, and enjoy a wide variety of pastimes, from domestic things like cooking, needlepoint and quilting, to wood- and metal-working, to sports like baseball and windsurfing. I like to read, my taste in music and movies is rather eclectic, and not to put too fine a point on it, but I am also a great admirer of feminine beauty. Like yours."

"Oh... and I like sex."

Wow. That was brutally honest, she thought. Except for the calling me beautiful part. Unless he means it... The thought was enough to send a chill through her. Maybe he's just seducing me, she wondered. If so, he's doing a pretty damned good job of it.

"My life isn't nearly so exciting, Mr. Thompson," she started to explain. She paused to refill her glass. A bit of liquid fortitude was in order. He watched her, but didn't say anything.

"I grew up in middle-class Suburbia, went to middle-class suburban schools, graduated from a middle-class suburban high school and went to the local community college. We couldn't afford for me to go to the State University. I got a two-year Associates degree with a concentration in Art, transferable to the four-year program at State if and when I could afford it. I wanted to be a Graphic Artist. I took two years off and worked as a receptionist days and a waitress nights to scrape up the money. I had just finished my first year at State, my Junior year of college, when my Dad got really sick and I had to come home and help take care of him."

"I applied to a temp agency to help Mom shore up the finances and got hired into a receptionist position, which got parlayed into a secretarial position. I took business classes at night so I could work my way up to 'Executive Secretary'... which they're now calling an Executive or Personal Assistant. I got lucky and got Temp'd into a position with Mr. Gallagher in the Legal Department of Sethridge. When my Dad died, I applied for a permanent position but was told one wasn't available."

"Six months later, a position became available and I jumped at it. It happened to be you. I found you easy to work with as long as I stayed out of your way. You tend to be a bull in a china shop."

She paused and took another deep pull on her drink, then refilled her glass. The wine was getting low in the carafe, so John waved the waitress over and ordered another one. In the meantime, Karen took another deep drink.

She wasn't sure if being honest was such a hot idea, but her slightly looped and getting loopier mind figured he had, so she should. He didn't seemed pissed by her description of him. In fact, he seemed sort of amused.

"Anyway, I grew up loving all the arts, music and theatre included," she went on after a moment. "So I guess I'm kind of eclectic, like you said. I'm not big into power tools, but I do like sculpting and like that. The only athletic things I do are bicycling, swimming and working out at the gym. Let's see..."

She emptied her glass and filled it again.

"Oh, yeah... sex. An unmitigated disaster." She paused to look at his expression, but he simply looked curious. And didn't say anything.

"Steady boyfriend in high school, got cheated on Senior Year, graduated a virgin. But found out I like kissing. His version of petting wasn't all that great. Um... dated several guys in college, only two made it to the sex level, the first was clumsy, obnoxious and self-centered in bed. Stayed a virgin, found out I liked to give blowjobs. The second one was smooth as silk. He got my cherry. I fell for him pretty hard. Turned out I was a temporary plaything until his fiancée got back from Europe. Dumped me the moment her plane landed. Found out I liked to fuck, though, if done right. Gentle, not Neanderthal."

She paused, drained her glass and poured another. John was beginning to watch her fairly closely.

"Okay, let's see... dated a bunch of losers until Boyfriend Number 4. Turned out he was just using me as his personal bank. Pretty much cleaned me out when he left. But he fucked pretty good." Her voice was starting to get slurry and her movements exaggerated. She seemed to be working herself up to something. And she sucked down another half a glass.

John considered saying something, but she was on a roll and he didn't want to stop her. She'd inadvertently warned him about her drinking too much back at dinner. He was keeping that firmly in mind since he realized she was, for all practical purposes, under his care. She was cute when she was animated. He just didn't want her going off the deep end.

"Okay, so the latest and greatest, Boyfriend Number 5," she went on with an exaggerated flair and thinly veiled sarcasm. "He did an amazing job of seducing me. I was raw from losing my father, my prior boyfriend and my money. He started by just being a shoulder to cry on. Then he bought me sex toys to relieve my frustration. Then he 'helped' me learn how to use them. And I was so horny and he felt so good that I was being expertly walked down the garden path."

She finished her glass and poured another.

"So what was his kink, after I'd fallen for him?" she asked rhetorically. "Bondage and Discipline and anal. He taught me to like it. Does that shock you Mr. Thompson?" She was definitely looped at this point, slurring her words and having a hard time focusing. In her mind, though, she was being coquettish. Teasing him with the forbidden, the taboo.

"Not really," he smiled, but kept his tone serious. "I find that if done well... that is, gently and with consideration for one's partner... they can be rather exhilarating. Not to mention giving mind-blowing orgasms."

Oh, my God, he's Lucifer on Earth, sent to drag us back down the Dark Side!, part of Karen's mind rebelled. And you're encouraging him!

Oh, no... he's fine... he sounds delicious. He knows what he's doing, the part that was rubbing her thighs together under the table chimed in.

The last time we went down that path, the petulant, rebelling side came back, Mom had to take us to the ER to get dried out. Acute alcohol poisoning, they called it. And one huge motherfucking hangover!

Because Greg abandoned us, the horny voice rejoined. And left us tied up. Mr. Thompson isn't like that.

"Are you, Mr. Thompson?" She'd said the last aloud.

"Am I what, Karen?" he asked, and she was startled to realize she'd said something out loud.

"Oh! Um... well, you're not... uh..." Karen was definitely flustered. She tried hard to get focused through the alcoholic fog. Then took another drink.

"Well, yer not'n asshole, are you?" she managed to ask. "'Cuz Boyfrien' Num-ber 5, aka Ass-hole, got me completely depen'ent on him, then walk' out on me. Leavin' me tie' up, ac'shully... for m'mother to fin'."

"No, Karen, I am definitely not that kind of asshole," he told her, thinking at least I'd untie her first...

"And, the bar's closing in a few minutes, so let's call it a night and head back up to the room, okay?"

Of course it's okay, she thought. Anything he wants is okay. If he wants to fuck, it's okay... God, I'm horny... I wonder if he'd like to do my ass?

In the meantime, John signaled for the check, signed it to the room, stood and helped Karen up out of her chair. She insisted she had to finish her glass before she'd put it down on the table and let go, but he finally got her up and steered towards the elevators. Karen was thoroughly blitzed.

In the elevator, she leaned against him, her head on his shoulder while he carefully supported her and kept her from falling. When they got to their floor, he helped guide her to their room, opened the door for her and helped guide her in. The door to her bedroom and bath was immediately to their left, so he guided her there, as well. As he moved her towards the bed, she muttered, "gotta pee..."

So he changed direction and steered her to the bathroom, where he steadied her while she reached under her dress and tugged down her pantyhose and panties. When she could lift her dress to sit, he helped her down, then turned to leave.

"If you need anything, holler," he told her. "I'll be within earshot." She nodded and he left.

Christ, is she wiped, he thought as he went to the fridge and opened a Mountain Dew. She is going to have a world-class hangover tomorrow. Reminder to self: don't let her get that plastered again. Maybe I'd better get out my pain meds and find something stronger than aspirin for her, for the morning. I'm definitely letting her sleep in.

God, he's being a nice guy, she thought as she sat on the toilet, her body tired and limp but her mind racing. I bet he's a nice guy in bed, too. He looks so damned good! Nice shoulders, nice abs, nice ass, nice legs... I was watching when we were dancing. Nice bulge, too. I bet he's hung. That could feel so nice... I haven't had a cock between my legs for six months. Six fucking months! Because Greg was an asshole.

John isn't an asshole. He said so. I bet he wouldn't just leave me hanging. Sexually or otherwise. Christ, I could use a good fucking! John said if I needed anything... I think I need him. I think I need his hot, throbbing cock buried in my soaking pussy. I think I need him up my ass, making me cum my brains out.

Fuck this! she decided, exerting her will over her body to wipe up, stand up and undress. She kicked off the shoes, unzipped the dress and let it pile up around her feet. She bent over and leaned against the sink to steady herself while she got the pantyhose and panties the rest of the way off. She used the counter to hold herself up as she looked at herself in the mirror.

I don't look so bad, she decided. I hope he likes redheaded landing strips...

She turned and eased her way out to the foyer, steadying herself with the walls, until she got to the living room where John had taken off his jacket, kicked off his shoes, unbuttoned part of his shirt and was sitting on the couch, rolling his neck with his eyes closed and a soft drink in his hand.

"Hey, John?" she asked softly and his eyes snapped open as he looked at her in surprise. "Do I hafta yell if I wan' something?" she asked in a deliberate, measured voice, fighting the effects of the alcohol. "Or can I just beck... um, beh... uh, you know, wave at you and ask if you want to fuck?"

Oh, God, please don't do this to me, he thought as he looked at her standing naked in the doorway. She looks so good, and she is so drunk...

And I am so fucking horny, he added, taking in her beauty. I can't, I can't, I can't...

He got up from the sofa, walked over to her and took her in his arms... before she fell down. She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him close, turned her face up to him and closed her eyes for the kiss... and passed out.

Thank you, Lord, he thought as he caught her weight and lifted her up, getting an arm under her butt and one behind her back so he could carry her back to her bed. He held her against him with one hand while he pulled down the sheets with the other, then eased her into the bed, deciding to take off her jewelry and put it on the nightstand before covering her and making sure she looked comfortable.

Then he went to the kitchen, filled a tumbler with ice and water and put in on the nightstand with her jewelry. One more trip to his bathroom to retrieve an Ascomp #3 and a couple of Aleve, which he put by the water, and he leaned down, gently kissing her forehead.

"Goodnight, Karen," he breathed. "You're fun. I hope I get to know you under better circumstances."

He picked up her clothes and folded them on the chair, made sure the bathroom nightlight was on, turned off the other lights on his way out and closed her door. He killed the lights in the living room and kitchen, too, and headed in to bed.

Not quite what I expected, he mused as he hit the head, then stripped off and climbed in bed. I think I actually like her. Certainly not like the stuck-up prissy bitches that threw themselves at me before. I think she could use someone being nice to her. God knows, I'm out of practice. But I can try.

With that, and pleasant memories of Karen's luscious naked body standing in the doorway, he fell asleep.

* * * * *

Monday Morning

Owww!... God! I hurt! Karen came slowly awake in the darkness. Where the fuck am I?

The memories of the previous day began coming back.

I'm in Vegas. With Mr. Thompson. He took me out to dinner and dancing last night. I drank too much...

Oh, fuck! I hurt! Her head was pounding. What the fuck time is it?

She saw the clock on the nightstand, and the water and pills next to it.

Nine o'clock in the morning??? You've got to be shitting me! She threw off the covers, went to sit up and immediately discovered two things. One, she was stark naked. Two, she was going to throw up.

She ran to the bathroom and made it, worshipping the porcelain god for several minutes before her stomach calmed down. Then she pulled herself up to the counter, wiped off her face and rinsed out her mouth, and rather unsteadily made her way back to her bed, sitting on the edge near the pills.

What the fuck did I do last night? she anguished. I'm naked. I never sleep naked. Well, not anymore anyway. The bed isn't messed up. Did we screw in his bed? Did he rape me on the couch? And then leave pain meds behind? What kind of monster is this man?

She tried to replay the events of last night, even as she was gulping down the pills, but she couldn't remember anything after the Lounge. And even a lot of that was fuzzy. She knew they'd talked. They'd talked about some of their backgrounds.

She remembered him telling her about being an Ivy League brat, the scion of a family with connections to get him into Sethridge and Associates. She remembered he was into "manly" things like woodworking and windsurfing. She remembered he had the most amazing crystal blue eyes that smiled a lot. She remembered he made her very, very wet. But she couldn't remember leaving the bar or getting to the room.

Did he put something in my drink? she wondered. I don't remember going to the Ladies' room... when could he have done it? And what did we do? I would think if he'd fucked me, I'd be sore. The only thing that hurts is my head. Well, and my guts, too. And what the hell is that smell?

She had just realized there was a strange smell in the air, which she finally realized smelled like breakfast. And God's gift to Humankind, the Elixir of Life, the Resume Human Form potion, the Ambrosia of the Gods... Coffee!

She looked around for her clothes and found them neatly draped over the back of the chair.

A tidy rapist. Just great... she thought. Then she saw the plush hotel robe hanging in the bath and decided that was good enough. She pulled it on and went in search of coffee... and a new asshole to ream. She found him standing in the kitchen, spooning eggs onto a plate which already had bacon and buttered toast on it. And dressed in bed pants and bare to the waist.

Oh. My. God. Do not get distracted, girl!

"Good morning," he greeted her with a smile as he put the plate down at one of the places at the counter, where he already had orange juice, V-8, fresh fruit and coffee. "I thought I heard you moving around. All yours..."

She stepped cautiously into the room. "What did you do to me last night?" she demanded, keeping her distance from the man with the disarming smile. The wolf's smile, she decided.

"Me?" he asked, a little confused. "I took you to dinner, and then out dancing, and then a nightcap at the lounge downstairs - a very large nightcap - and then I put you to bed."

"No, I mean the sex," she spat back. "Don't be cute. What did you do to me?"

"What sex?" Now he really looked confused.

"Don't fuck with me!" she threatened. "I woke up naked and hung-over! I never sleep naked! Or... not anymore, anyway. So what the fuck did you do? What did you put in my drink and what did you do to my body?"

"I didn't put anything in your drink and I didn't do anything to your body except lift you up when you passed out on me and put you in your bed. Oh, and take off your jewelry and put it beside the bed with water and pain meds for when you woke up," he told her levelly. The humor was gone from his eyes and she somehow knew he was dead serious.

"When I passed out?" she asked, now very unsure of herself.

"Yes, when you passed out," he iterated. "We stopped downstairs for a nightcap and I shared some of my background with you, and then you shared some with me. Except it apparently wasn't pleasant for you and you kept drinking, pretty heavily. We closed the place around midnight and I helped you to the elevator and then to your room. You needed the toilet, so I got you there and then left."

"Awhile later you came out, naked except for your jewelry - and pardon my saying so, but you really are beautiful - and you came on to me. You could hardly stand. You were leaning against the door jam. I came over to hold you up and get you to bed, and you went to kiss me and passed out, in my arms. I put you in bed, removed your jewelry, got the water and pills, folded up your clothes that had been dumped on the bathroom floor, turned out the lights and left."

"I went to my room where I spent a fitful night thinking about your beautiful naked body and deciding that you would probably appreciate breakfast when you woke up. And by the way, you're welcome."

Karen turned beet red. She turned and began to walk slowly back to her bedroom.

"Hey, where are you going?" he asked after her. "Your breakfast is ready."

"Like I could face you after that," she mumbled as she kept moving.

"Hey, really!" he called again, starting to move towards her. "Seriously, breakfast is up and you probably need it. And yes, you can face me after that. I told you, I try to be non-judgmental." She kept walking.

"Karen!" He finally caught up to her and put his hands on her shoulders, stopping her. He forced her to turn around, but she wouldn't look up at him. "I need you on this trip, Karen. We can't have any bullshit between us. If I have to, I'll invoke the 'what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas' rule. You're very attractive to me, Karen, and I'm flattered that you came on to me, but you were three sheets to the wind and there was no way I was going to be Asshole Number 6."