Lanie's Lessons Read online

  In the private lavatory in her office, she removed all of her clothes—to be sure history did not repeat itself—and took out each item one by one. Finding a sleeveless silk turtleneck in a lovely soft lavender, she slipped it on. The narrow band at her throat gathered the material in soft drapes at both front and back, but the shoulders cut in, exposing a lot of skin. This ruled out a bra. She dug through the bag. A strapless would have worked, but she didn’t find one. Critically, she looked at herself in the mirror and grimaced. Braless was not a good look for a girl with nearly double D measurements.

  Lack of support was one concern, the outline of her hard nipples was clearly visible beneath the thin silk was the other. They were set on high beam, as the joke went. She’d always thought it crude but now saw how perfectly it fit her situation. She rubbed them until they softened.

  Next, she pulled on the high waisted black pencil skirt. Made of a stretch blend, it fit the contours of her body like a second skin. Although of conservative length, hitting slightly above the knee, there was a slit in the back that reached to mid thigh. Poking around in the bag she found a pair of black stilettos and surprisingly, a skimpy black lace thong. Would wonders never cease?

  Ethan liked skirts, but was definitely anti-panty, although she doubted the barely there scrap of lace would qualify as such. Unsure what he was up to, she slipped on the skimpy underwear adjusting it in the back. The lace was rough and she’d have much preferred commando to having the uncomfortable, scratchy string going the one place she most wanted it not to go. Ugh! She was so not a thong girl and was convinced a man had come up with the idea. Personally, she tried to keep her panties out of the crack of her ass, in fact, she’d made it one of her missions in life. But because she loved him, in it went for the time being.

  Last came the shoes. Black with curvy s-shaped straps that kissed at the top of her foot, a thin strap across the base of her toes and another encircling her ankle. Ethan loved strappy sandals and a significant heel. These were fuck me shoes if she’d ever seen them.

  Gathering her discarded clothes, she began putting them in the bag when she heard several pings as hair pins hit the tile floor. He thought of everything—except a bra. With a few practiced motions, she soon had her hair pinned up in a French twist. The whole time, her big boobs jiggled, bobbed and pretty much flopped around. Hands on her hips, she stared at her chest in the mirror, feeling very uncomfortable.

  “Ready to go, babe?”

  She hadn’t heard him come in. Her eyes met his in the mirror as he came up behind her, then pointedly looked at her chest.

  “It’s very pretty, but I can’t wear a bra with this top, Ethan.”

  “You don’t need one, Lanie. That’s why I didn’t put one in the bag.”

  “But I’m too big. I’ll shake and wobble all over the place. My nipples are hard and poking through the silk.”

  “Honey—”

  “It’s indecent, Ethan,” she cut in. “If it’s the least bit cold in the restaurant, I’ll be practically X-rated.”

  “Nonsense, you look gorgeous.” Moving in behind her, his eyes met hers in the mirror. His hands grazed up her arms until they cupped her shoulders. He bent his head and nuzzled her neck, his lips softly brushing her skin. “This is another control issue, Lanie. I thought you trusted me.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “But not completely. You have nothing to be worried about. Your breasts are exquisite. They’re nicely rounded, soft yet firm. You don’t need a bra.”

  “I do, Ethan. I want to be taken seriously by this applicant. She comes highly recommended.”

  His hands moved around to cup her breasts and his thumbs swept over the hard buds. “It’s a crime to restrain these beauties.”

  “I’m bringing a sweater.” She declared. “If the A/C is on or people start to stare, I’m wearing it.”

  “If they stare, it’s because you are the hottest, sexiest woman they’ve ever seen.”

  Leaning back against him, she rubbed her ass against the insistent erection pressing against her. When his fingers pinched her nipples, she reached back and stroked his hard length.

  “Baby,” he growled, turning her in his arms.

  She angled her head, looking up at him with an impish grin. “Hey, fair’s fair. If I have to walk around with twin lady boners, the least you could do is show your support with a chubby.”

  Bending his knees until his cock lined up with her pussy, he palmed her ass in the tight skirt. He pulled her hips into his and proceeded to grind against her. After a few moments, when things started to get out of control, he growled and set her away. Lanie looked down and saw that he had an impressive bulge in his suddenly too tight trousers. She hid a smirk when he stuck his hand in his waistband to reposition himself.

  “Chubby my ass,” he grumbled. “What you’ve given me is a full on stiffy.”

  Lanie giggled at the uncouth expression from her upper crust law professor’s lips. “Not much fun when you’re on your way to a restaurant, is it?”

  “One more thing before we go. Lift your top.”

  “What?”

  “Do it. Lift your blouse and show me the jiggling, wobbly tits you’re so worried about.”

  “Ethan!” She cried, surprised by his language. Sure, during a scene while their passions flared, he let loose some f-bombs and descriptively crude words about body parts, but ordinarily he was very well-mannered. She was shocked.

  “Your words, not mine. Your blouse, Lanie. Now, please.”

  A polite order, but an order all the same. It seemed playtime was starting early. Unsure of her role just yet, she decided compliance might be in her best interest.

  “Yes, sir.”

  She slid the silk up to her shoulders and stilled. A wave of heat swept through her as his eyes tipped down. Gently, he cupped her, molding and weighing both breasts before moving to her nipples. He pinched them firmly, rolling each tip between his thumb and forefinger, increasing the pressure until she arched and gasped in delight.

  “This isn’t helping my cause, honey.”

  He arched a brow at her, then released her to reach under the bunched up material and pull down a thin piece of stretchy fabric which he slid over her breasts. It was a built in shelf bra and gave her the support she needed. She hadn’t noticed it.

  Ethan pulled the hem down and tucked it back into her waistband. Turning her to face the mirror, he kissed her ear while gazing at their reflection. “It’s eighty degrees out there, beautiful. Still need a sweater?”

  “I feel like an idiot. I’m so sorry, honey.” Her eyes filled with tears, ashamed for not trusting him. “I should have known better.”

  “Yes, you should have. You underestimate me, Lanie. My intention is to love and cherish you, not embarrass you. Never that. So it seems we have more lessons to learn. Some are much harder than others, hmm? I’ll give you a chance to redeem yourself later tonight.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  When they arrived at Mariano’s, a popular Italian restaurant in nearby Brighton, Ethan valet parked, grabbed his briefcase and escorted Lanie into the lounge where Sarah Masterson was waiting. Over cocktails they waited for Beth and Steven to arrive.

  Though the women were the active partners in the firm, they welcomed the input of their spouses, not only because of the half million dollar investment but for Ethan’s business savvy and Steven’s excellent observation and people skills. Neither man had required they have a hand in the business, it was Beth and Lanie who insisted they stay involved, and the two men had turned out to be an integral part of their team.

  After about twenty minutes, Lanie’s cell phone buzzed and she excused herself to read the text message.

  “Mm, it seems Beth had a fender bender on the way home and she and Steven aren’t going to be able to make it. They’re still dealing with police and tow trucks.”

  “No one was injured, I hope,” the dowdily dressed brunette asked. Sarah also had badly permed hair and dark rim
med glasses, she embodied the clichéd image of an accountant and was in dire need of a stylist. Ethan could easily imagine her pouring over piles of spreadsheets and ledgers in a dimly lit room somewhere with her fingers flying over an old fashioned adding machine.

  “No injuries,” Lanie said with a wince, angling her screen toward Ethan, “except for Beth’s Mercedes.”

  Ethan grimaced at the sight of the crumpled front end. “Looks like more than a fender bender to me.” He regarded both women thoughtfully. “Why don’t we go ahead without them. Beth is very interested in contracting this position as soon as possible. I’m familiar with the basics of forensic accounting and Lanie is aware of the particulars about the firm’s needs.”

  “Are you also a partner, Mr. Fischer?”

  “I’m an investor and have been consulting with the partners as they get their practice organized this first year.”

  “My husband is being modest, Sarah. I’m sorry, may I call you Sarah?” Receiving a nod of approval, Lanie continued. “Ethan is a law professor at BC and has years of practice, so his expertise is invaluable to us.”

  “Thank you, Lanie,” he said, nudging her thigh with his beneath the table. To Sarah he said, “I do have a few questions, before Lanie rakes you over the coals.”

  “He’s kidding,” Lanie put in.

  “I hope not,” Sarah Masterson replied. “I welcome a good grilling, and respect any employer who takes the time to be thorough.”

  As she reached into her briefcase, Ethan glanced at Lanie who was fighting a smile. Gut instinct—she liked her as much as he did. She’d come prepared with a CV that detailed fifteen years of fraud, abuse, and embezzlement investigations in big corporations and small business in the Boston area. What followed was a spirited discussion about the practice and how Sarah might fit in with their team. She also shared some of her more interesting cases and how her input had helped earn convictions.

  “Who knew there was so much corporate corruption in the area? No wonder Beth’s phone has been ringing off the hook.”

  “You have no idea. Remember the Van Heusen case last year? I was in on that. The CFO managed to divert millions of dollars of insurance payments directly into his offshore bank account.”

  “I remember him,” Ethan replied. “He got fifteen years in federal prison for Medicare fraud.”

  “Yes,” Sarah’s eyes lit up with glee behind her glasses. “I was the expert witness in that case. I love to see embezzlers get their comeuppance.”

  “She’s ruthless, Ethan.” Lanie said with a grin. “I like her.”

  He chuckled, “Sounds like my wife is a fan already. That’s half the battle.”

  “Would you be able to come to lunch tomorrow to meet my partner?”

  “I’d be happy to. If Ms. Anderson is half as impressive as you are Lanie, I’d be thrilled to work with you both.”

  The meeting ended with a firm handshake and a huge grin before she scurried off in her flat, nondescript brown shoes.”

  “That woman is in dire need of a makeover.”

  “Funny,” Ethan laughed, “I thought the exact same thing.”

  Lanie’s eyes were glinting with excitement and Ethan predicted that if Ms. Masterson’s references checked out, she would soon be on the payroll.

  “So, are you ready for dinner?”

  “Yes, smelling the garlic bread for the last hour has been killing me.”

  He retrieved a small gift bag from his briefcase and handed it to Lanie, hoping he contained the leer that threatened. “Happy secretaries day, Miss Langston.”

  Almost afraid to open the bag, she murmured, “Let the games begin.”

  On the way to dinner, Ethan had explained the game. He was a high-powered CEO, who was carrying on with his personal assistant. He was a “my way or the highway” kind of guy, so if she didn’t follow his orders without fail, she’d face disciplinary action. Like a fool, Lanie had fallen in love with her boss, and because she desperately needed to keep her job, she would do everything possible to please him.

  She quickly fell into her part. “Why Mr. Fischer, you shouldn’t have.”

  When she went to open it, he stayed her hand. “Not here, my dear. Take it to the ladies room and find someplace private before you open it. There are further directions inside.”

  Brows arched in question, she reached for the tissue paper.

  “No peeking!” he warned. His thumb and forefinger captured her chin and he gazed intently into her eyes. “Do not disappoint me, my dear. Get a move on while I flag down someone to see about our table.”

  “Yes, sir,” was her soft reply as she slipped from the booth, a becoming blush gracing her delicate features, her eyes bright with curiosity. He noticed she bit her lower lip, a habit when she was feeling uncertain or anxious. She was dying to rip into that bag and he figured she’d be peeking as soon as she was out of sight. Oh, to be a fly on the wall in the ladies room. Hopefully, she wouldn’t pull out the contents before she got into a private stall. Keeping her on her toes was a challenge that he found extremely gratifying.

  He watched as she walked across the lounge. In her tight skirt, it appeared more like a strut and male heads whipped around noticeably as she passed. Who could resist ogling such a fabulous ass in form fitting material? Shifting in his seat, he tried to ease the strain in his snug pants, a near constant state whenever his lovely wife was around. Despite the discomfort, Ethan grinned as he surveyed the appreciative glances cast her way. A table of four men in suits, paid particular attention. Enjoy the view fellas, he thought smugly, cause that’s all your gonna get. She’s all mine.

  Ethan’s hand rose to signal a waiter as soon as she was out of sight.

  *

  Rushing into the ladies room, Lanie pulled out the tissue from the hot pink bag and peered inside. “Crap on a cracker,” she murmured, before clutching the bag closed in alarm, Ignoring the curious stares, she waited impatiently for the next empty stall.

  A few minutes later, she rushed inside and locked door. Reaching past Ethan’s little—okay, maybe not so little—surprise, she pulled out a small piece of folded paper from the bottom of the bag.

  Ms. Langston,

  Your work this week has been subpar to say the least.

  You double booked two important clients, were late with important correspondence and my cleaning was not picked up on time. For a highly recommended executive assistant, I am gravely disappointed.

  As such, I am placing you on probation and we will begin a corrective action tonight. The item in the bag will remind you of your need for improvement. Failure to please me in every way this evening will result in further disciplinary action.

  You have five minutes to insert the device and return to me. At that point, you will hand me your panties as a sign of your willingness to accept my discipline. If you do not, I will assume you have chosen to pursue other employment—possibly at some other Mickey Mouse organization that will accept substandard work.

  The decision, as always, is yours, Ms. Langston.

  E

  As she read, she felt a rush of heat and moisture collected between her thighs. Her panties became soaked as she imagined sitting across from him, eating dinner—sans panties—while trying to maintain an appearance of normalcy with that device, as he called it, up her ass. Peeking back into the bag, she blinked. It was a butt plug—holy crap! Hot pink, about four-inches long, maybe an inch and a half at its widest point, with a flared base.

  Good heavens, he had a wicked mind, but she wasn’t all that surprised, he’d been building up to this for a while. Taking a deep breath, she pulled up her skirt and off came her panties. Her hands shook as she applied a small drop of clear gel on the end and spread it all around the tip with her finger. She would have used more, but was afraid too much would leave a wet spot on her skirt. Or worse would have it sliding out as she walked across the restaurant.

  To see the hot pink sex toy rolling on the floor at her feet, well, her mortificati
on would be so utterly complete that she’d have no qualms about becoming a recluse. Or she could hide in plain sight by buying a new identity, face transplant included. At the very least, she’d sell her half of the practice and move to some remote location like Nome, Alaska—no, too cold. Maybe, Eureka, Nevada. Located in the middle of nowhere, she’d once read it was the last town at the beginning, or was it the end, of the ‘loneliest road in America.’ If she could get internet access through satellite, she could do online work, like wills, quickie divorces and estate planning. Wait… Nevada was too close. She’d need to be on the other end of the planet, in Australia perhaps. The Cape York, Peninsula, yeah, that would do. The aboriginal tribes needed legal representation, she was sure of it.

  Unexpectedly, Ethan intruded into her wandering thoughts. He seemed to whisper in her ear. “Quit stalling, baby.” That was exactly what she was doing: delaying, dithering, playing for time. Who wouldn’t? Eyeing the glistening plug, she noticed it seemed larger in her hands and the pink silicone contrasting with her pale skin appeared obscene.

  “The things I do for this man.”

  Closing her eyes, she slid the slick tip between her cheeks and across her delicate pucker several times, before pressing it inward. Her anal experience was very limited. He’d inserted a finger occasionally, once stretching her with two, but he’d never used a toy on her or taken her there, mostly because of her reluctance—and because he was big—really big. Thankfully, the plug was smaller. Still, he was definitely pushing a control limit with her, going where no man—or toy—had gone before. Having her do it herself tested her submission, she couldn’t put the onus solely on him. And he’d given her an out, as always. The comment about seeking employment at some other Mickey Mouse organization was his reminder that she could use her safe word if needed, making it entirely her choice.

  As she pushed, the rounded end of the plug slid farther inside. Breathing deeply, she determined to get on with it when the bathroom door opened. High heels clicking on tile combined with the chatter of female voices and she froze, not blinking or moving an inch. She listened as they babbled about some upcoming event or another. They seemed in no hurry.