The Jones Account - Sex Stories

The Jones Account

... her heart racing as she pushed the button for the twenty-fifth floor. She knew full well that the next hour could make or break her career. Deep breaths… just deep breaths, she told herself. With that, she threw her hair back, straightened her shoulders and waited for the doors to open. The elevator opened into a cavernous marble and wood hallway leading towards the partners’ offices. As she approached the formidable oaken double doors to his office, she noticed that his executive assistant’s desk was empty. Her laptop was gone, meaning she’d most likely left at five with the majority of the staff. Kristina became acutely aware of the sound of her high heels clicking on the stone floor. The sound reverberated off the walls, making her self-conscious like she was encroaching into forbidden territory. Mentally, she chastised herself for letting her nerves get the best of her. With any of her clients or business partners, Kristina prided herself on being able to hold her own. She bravely faced any challenge she was given and did well at it. However, something about Mr. Blackwell intimidated her to her core, unnerving her in an odd way she couldn’t describe. Richard Blackwell was a self-made man, several years her senior. He was a man of few words, more of action, but when he did speak, he went straight for the heart of the matter. There were no platitudes or sugar coating from him. If she were honest with herself, she did find him attractive. His hair was mostly dark; except ...

... for a few wisps of gray winding its way through it and his eyes were a deep chocolate brown. He kept in shape playing polo and with a league of executives on the weekends. She’d seen him once without a shirt at a company picnic when he volunteered for a dunking booth for charity. She remembered vividly how nicely his abs looked especially for a man his age. The sudden thought of her bare-chested boss sent an involuntary shiver of excitement through her. Stop it! She chastised herself. Pull yourself together. Don’t blow this. Kristina took a deep breath and soundly knocked on the office door. “Come in.” Kristina entered the office and saw Mr. Blackwell seated at his desk. The walk to his desk felt like it was over a mile. As she approached the butterflies in her stomach became almost unbearable. Mr. Blackwell was laid back in his office chair, clearly talking to someone on the phone. As she approached, she took him in. He was wearing a white dress shirt with a deep crimson tie. A power color, she noted. His black jacket was draped across the back of the chair as he swiveled to and fro looking a bit annoyed. He motioned for her to sit in one of the arm chairs facing his enormous desk. She politely took a seat. She placed her hands in her lap and glanced around the office, trying not to eavesdrop on their conversation. The room was extremely large, flanked by windows on two sides with a gorgeous view of the city. The rest of the room was warm, with wood panel walls and floors with ...