Appearances are everything. Anyone who tries to tell you otherwise is either lying to you or to themselves. Either way, they’re always wrong.

“More coffee Mr. Profit?”

I smile.

“Yes, that would be lovely.”

Alice has been my secretary for six weeks now. She is punctual and well groomed, and she has a smile that causes others to answer with one of their own.

“Two sugars?”

“And cream.”

She’s bright, friendly, everything a man in my position could ask for in a secretary. Everything except…

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” 

My desk is now covered in lightly sweetened coffee. This is because Alice’s hands have a tendency to shake when’s she’s nervous.

 And Alice is always nervous.

“It’s fine.”

It’s not.

“I’ll call in housekeeping.”  My voice is reassuring, no hint that she’s just fucked up two hours of work.

“I’ll clean this up Mr. Profit, I really don’t mind.” And before I can respond, she is on her knees, picking up papers I’ve knocked to the floor.  I lean back in my chair, and watch the sway of Alice’s ass as she moves across the floor.

This has to stop.

“Alice. Put the papers down.”

Her hands drop them instantly.  

I discovered quite a bit about Alice through a thorough background check. Always do background checks, even with those you only meet in passing. You never know what information prove invaluable at just the right moment.  And trust me everyone has a past. Things they’d like to forget.

Things they want to hide.

Alice cuts herself.

Shameful little habit that she’s had on and off since she was a teenager. Her juvenile police records (all sealed of course) show a history of self-mutilation combined with occasional drug use.  Now at the ripe age of twenty eight, she is, as are most people, in regular counseling sessions. But she’s backslid recently.

 I can see the scabs from fresh cuts on her thighs through the sheer black stockings she always wears.

Yes, everyone has something to hide. Even sweet Alice.

“I…did I do something wrong Mr. Profit? I mean, besides the coffee…”

Her voice is a sweet soprano, almost sing song in tone.

“Sit down.”

She does what I ask. I press the intercom button that connects me to the lobby and request janitorial services. We sit in silence as they walk in, quickly cleaning up the mess she’s made of my desk. Alice bites her lip as she watches them clean.

Worried.

It’s a painful thing, a lack of control. It’s what she feels now; not knowing what will happen next, what my reaction will be. I know that feeling, though I haven’t experienced it for a very long time. I’m good at a lot of things. Gaining control is one of them.

“Alice, we need to talk.”

She nods silently.

“I’ve noticed a few typos lately on a few of your letters and reports.” 

It’s more than a few. I don’t even bother to send them out anymore.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Profit, I just…I’m sorry.”

Appearances are everything.

“This can’t happen anymore Alice. Do you understand?”

She nods.

“Stand up.”

She is instantly on her feet, her small curvy body held ramrod straight. Big brown eyes stare into mine, expectant, waiting. I’m still for a moment, keeping her on edge, before I turn away and walk towards the door of my office. I’ve made sure the room was sound proof, not one to allow the possibility of eavesdropping on some of my more…sensitive transactions.

Alice is one of those transactions. I could fire her, find another secretary. But she’s well liked at Gracen and Gracen, and my clients always mention her as they leave, compliment me on my choice of staff.

She puts them at ease when they walk inside my office.

And as a result, they never see me coming.

***

He’s ordered her to stand and she practically trips over her feet to comply, her heart rising in her throat.  She knows her body is trembling, she’s excited, too much so she thinks.

She shouldn’t have spilled the coffee.

But his voice…her body trembles every time he says her name. It’s low, dulcet in tone, almost hypnotic. She hears it when she goes to bed each night, after she’s stroked herself to a pulsing orgasm. She hears him. In her head, she can hear him say her name.

Alice.

I’m his secretary.  

“Why do you cut yourself Alice?”

She knew the question would come eventually. She can hide most of them, but she’s cut a few too deep lately, and they leave stains on her stockings. She wears black ones now, but you can still spot them if you look closely.

“Because I…”

She’s not sure what the right answer is. The one she tells her psychiatrist? No, Mr. Profit would see right through that. He sees through everything.

Especially her.

“Is it because you like the pain?”

“No.” She shakes her head, feeling her hair graze against her cheek.

“Is it something you can control?”

 I am glass. And he sees through me.  

“Yes.” Her voice is a whisper.

 My skin is gone.  

“Do you want control Alice?”

 Lie. Just lie like you have so many times. Then he won’t see, won’t know how pathetic you really are. 

“No.”

But there’s only truth.

“Do you want me to control you?”

Her body quivers as her slit becomes instantly drenched. She tries to speak, but there are no words. She wants to weep with relief, but he doesn’t want that. So neither does she.

She only nods.

“Then you must do everything I say, no questions. Do you understand?”

I nod.

“Tell me you understand Alice.”

“Yes, I understand Mr. Profit.”

He circles her slowly. His eyes are dark brown, almost like hers. Sometimes she can see her reflection inside them. See herself his eyes.

“Everyone has a darkness Alice.” He says. “Something we hide from others, our secret shames. And if we carry them, let them fester….like a wound, then we become afraid. We live in fear.”

She can feel the warm air of his breath on her shoulders.

“Fear is for the weak Alice.”  His hands slide across her hips and she forgets to breathe. “And you’re not weak, not anymore, understand?”

“Yes, Mr. Profit.”

“Take off your dress.”

***

Her hands are steady as they reach for her zipper; her eyes meeting mine directly, as they never have before. My dick swells under that dark stare, straining painfully against my pants. 

She’s mine.

The black jersey falls to the floor, a puddle around her black heels. The black bra pushes her large breasts up and forward, smooth brown flesh overflowing from the lacy cups. Her panties are thin, and a small dark triangles of curls peaks through the sheer material. The black stockings are attached, held in place by narrow, silk garters.

Her thighs. This is where it happens, where she keeps her secrets.

“Come to me.” I say. And she does.

My hand reaches out and traces the curve of her hip. I hear her breath catch, but she doesn’t move. Because I haven’t told her to.

I lean down, and my hand slides across her thigh, tracing each curve marring her skin.

I find a new one, and she sucks in a deep breath between her teeth. Still sensitive.

I am kneeling before her now, and when I look up, those dark eyes are there to meet mine.

“No more cutting Alice. Do you understand?”

She nods.

“You are not to cut yourself again unless I tell you to do so.”

“Yes, Mr. Profit.”

My cock aches at the sound of her voice.  I lean toward her thigh, just above the hem of her stocking, to find one of the older cuts. I lick the skin gently, trailing the tip of my tongue over the length of the scar.

“Oh…” she moans softly.

Her skin is slightly salty against my tongue.

I want more.

***

She’s afraid he’ll stop.

His mouth. God his mouth on her skin…

Please don’t let him stop.  

He rises slowly, and takes off his suit jacket, laying it carefully on the back of a chair. His tie follows, and he removes his gold cufflinks as well, the ones she brought for him two weeks ago.

It was his birthday.

“The bra Alice.” He says, leaning against his desk.

 Her hands reach behind her back, slowly unhooking her bra, before sliding it across her shoulders, down her arms. Her nipples are hard and she can feel his eyes on them, taking in every inch of her flesh.

“Do you think you’re beautiful Alice?”

“No, Mr. Profit.”

“Why not?”

She hesitates. No one’s ever asked her that before.

“I just…don’t.” She finishes lamely. He’s moving towards her again, and she fights the urge to reach for him, run her hands across the soft cotton of his shirt.

His hands slide along her stomach before rising to cup her breasts. He lifts them slightly, his thumbs casually sliding across the rigid tips. She lets out a small gasp, a sharp intake of breath that echoes through the quite room. He ignores her outburst, his gaze riveted on the dark tips.

“If I told you that you were beautiful, would you believe it?”

“Yes Mr. Profit.”

“Good.”

And then his mouth is on her, drawing the dark areola deep into his mouth. The wet heat makes her cry out, and she arches against him as he swirls his tongue over her skin. His hand drifts to the small of her back and pushes her closer, allowing him to lick and suck at his leisure.

She wants to touch him.

He releases the nipple only to move to the other, using the length of his tongue to draw wet circles around her flesh. Alice feels her legs weakening, and she stumbles slightly, her body crashing into him.

He holds her, grasps her waist.  He lifts his head and their eyes meet again. She knows hers are pleading, begging him for more. His tell her nothing.

She can only see herself.

He leans toward her, his lips hovering over inches from hers.

“You are beautiful.”  He says in that smooth, detached voice of his. “And you’re my...”

“Secretary.” She finishes for him. “I’m your secretary.”

And then he kisses her.

***

Her mouth is soft.

I kiss her slowly, my tongue gently licking her bottom lip. She wants more; I can feel her ache with it. Her need. But she holds back, waits for me to deepen the kiss.

So I do.

Her mouth is sweet from red vines. She eats them obsessively, just one of several nervous habits. Not one I’ve ever cared for, but others seem to find it….endearing.

But her mouth is sweet.

The tip of her tongue touches mine tentatively, asking for permission. I stroke it gently, and she responds in kind, and our mouths grow frantic, devouring one another. I can taste her, but it’s not enough.

I want more.

My hands move down her waist and find the silken material of her panties. I pull away from the kiss, and watch her face as I began to slowly knead the cheeks of her ass.

“Do you want to fuck me Alice?”

“No...” she moans. She leans forward, her full breasts pressing into my chest.

“Do you want me to fuck you Alice?”

“Yes...” Her breathing is ragged as my hand dips below the edge of her panties, tracing the skin beneath.

I grasp her hips, and move behind her, guiding her to my large desk. She’s trembling again, this time from excitement. This is what I want, what I need her to be. My Alice. Beautiful, trembling, ready for me.

“Bend over.”

***

She braces her palms on the desk and leans forward, her legs slightly spread apart. His hand is still on her ass, sliding across each curve and her hips tilt down, pushing her body against his hand.

He grasps her underwear and pulls them across her hips, dragging them down her stocking legs slowly. When he reaches her feet, she steps out of them, her soaking pussy now free from the soft material.

His hand moves across her inner thigh, and she bites her lower lip to keep from shouting. His fingers reach her slit, and slide lightly across the swollen lips, causing her legs to part even wider.

She feels a hand on her back and she leans further down, until her breasts are pressed against the hard wood. His fingers are rubbing her aroused lips, and she feels a fingertip press past the wet folds, slipping inside.

Alice whimpers softly, and bites her lip even more.

The fingers tease her a bit longer before plunging inside, widening the tight folds of her sex. Her head lifts from the desk, and she lets out a triumphant cry, her hips instantly rolling against his hand.

“Do you like that Alice?”

“Yes….yes…”

“Yes what?”

“Yes…. Mr. Profit.”

His other hand traces a line of heat up and down her back. She pumps her hips against his fingers, feeling the heat of his mouth at the small of her back, his tongue gliding along her skin.

She was coming. Her pussy began to tighten, signaling her impending release.

And then he withdraws.

“Please…” she whispers, her pussy throbbing.

“Not yet.” He says. And she nods. His hands touch her waist again, and her body flinches, her skin painfully aroused. She turns slowly at his urging, and he lifts her up on the desk, her bare ass meeting the cool, polished wood.

He slides her back further, until her thighs rest on the surface as well, and parts her legs before bending them at the knees.

“Alice.”

“Yes. Mr. Profit.”

“I want you to scream for me. When you come, I want to hear you scream.”

She nods, then watches as he leans forward, his hands grasping her thighs as he presses his mouth to her pussy. She’s entranced by the sight of his dark hair between her thighs before he finds her clit, lapping the small nub with his practiced tongue. His strokes are slow, light at first, before becoming harder, faster.

Her eyes close and feels that familiar pull in her groin, the walls tightening as she begins to climax.

And then he pulls away.

She doesn’t say anything this time.

Just waits.

And he is on her again, this time plunging his tongue deep inside, his mouth pressed tightly against her sex. The orgasm is fast and hard, ripping through body violently, causing her to buck against the wood desk. His hands grip her thighs tightly, almost painfully, his mouth devouring her juices as she comes.

And she screams.

The sound rips from her throat, almost primal to her own ears.

When it begins to subside, she leans backwards. Her arms are limp at her sides, her chest is heaving with quick, shallow breaths.

And then he rises, those dark eyes meeting hers again.

“Alice.” He says.

 And I am his. 

***

It has been two months since I’ve started fucking Alice, and her work has become impeccable. Not a typo to be found. My coffee stays inside my cup where it belongs and my business associates still smile when she enters the room.

Her grooming is excellent, her smile contagious. She gives the best head I’ve ever had.

She doesn’t wear stockings anymore. Not unless I ask her to

She is mine.

My Alice.

My secretary.