*Running away only works if you know what you are running from*

(I'd also like to say that this is not a story of domination, or someone changing who they are overnight. In this story sex is not a panacea.)

*

If I had any illusions that my weekend with Mrs. Hardison had earned me anything by end of business Monday they had all evaporated. I had to start up a project, get everyone aware of what I needed from them, and be constantly on call for information I barely knew how to find. I got home to my hovel at ten.

Tuesday I had to set up meetings, go to meetings and deliver a status update to Leslie all before noon. Now that the easy part of my day was over I had to actually get working on the project. In the midst of this I got dragged off to a security briefing I didn't have to be at and then I got buried in calls explaining to me why people couldn't do what I wanted to do for the rest of the day. I was home at nine-thirty.

Wednesday was more of the same; pointless meetings, tons of excuses that basically boiled down to me being a jumped-up twerp with no authority and since they didn't 'have' to do it, they weren't going to do it. I countered with a charm campaign, doing end runs around some of the people giving me crap and personally going to the people I needed to talk to. I was home by eight, but I told my friend the drug dealer on the street corner I was considering his job offer.

Thursday was wonderful. Three people way over my head spent some of their precious time firing off e-mails my way telling me they were going to have my ass for going behind their backs. Two of them threatened to have me fired. I resisted the temptation to tell them to get the fuck in line. Leslie called for an update, I told her I wasn't done and she told me to bring up what I had. I printed it up and went to face the music.

"Hey," Leslie smiles to me. She develops a worried expression as she sees the hang-dogged look on my face. "Is it really that bad?" I hand her my work to date. She looks at it and shakes her head. "This isn't good." She gets up and goes into Mrs. Hardison's office. A minute later she steps out and ushers me in.

Gloria Hardison sits behind her Spartan desk with everything a neat arrangement and everything in its place no doubt. She is reviewing my hardcopy; thumbing through what little I have compiled, a strand of her thin black hair slipping along the delicate curve of her cheek. "Why has Mr. Fujiwara's section not filed any work with you yet?" she says in a clipped tone.

"The long version or the short version," I respond in a tired voice. I figure I am about to go down in flames. Gloria pierces me with a soul-searing glance. "Long version; his department is busy and he'll get to it in due time. Short version; he told me to stuff it up my ass," I explain.

"Leslie, get Mr. Fujiwara in my office immediately," Mrs. Hardison communicates to her assistant. Gloria goes back to work and I stand around uselessly. My phone rings, I answer it and I have a quick conversation with a co-worker who is actually cooperating. All the while Gloria doesn't seem to notice I'm in the room.

Even when Fujiwara walks in the room she doesn't look up until she's finished whatever she's working on. "Mr. Fujiwara, do you know Mr. Duarte?" "Yes Mrs. Hardison," he responds.

"Are you aware of his project?" "Yes I am aware but ..." he stammers. "I give you a set number of projects to supervise, I give you a set amount of time to accomplish these goals and I figure in such things as overlap and acceptable delays. This project is an acceptable delay, so why haven't you been assisting Mr. Duarte?"

"I'll get right on it," he says softly. "What strike is this Mr. Fujiwara?" He doesn't answer. "The answer is three. Clear out your desk and have security process you by end of business. Good day," she said dismissively. The man stumbles out of the office. This is why she's called The Bitch.

"If you have any other problems contact Leslie," she tells me. "Leslie, see that Mr. Fujiwara is removed from the building by five and put a lock on his systems. Inform Harriett List that she's been temporarily promoted," Mrs. Hardison says over her mouth piece then gets back to her work. I stand at attention, turn and leave hoping my sweat isn't showing.

I sometimes forget what a terrible unforgiving bitch she can be, but by the end of business I have people stumbling over themselves to get me what I need. I get home at ten again and I'm really starting to hope I get mugged just so I can sleep it off in some police precinct. I go in early only so I can catch up with all the stuff I should have been doing Tuesday and Wednesday.

At noon Leslie gives me a call and I show up at her desk. I wait for a few people to file out and Gloria's lunch to arrive before I get ushered in. Again I feel like a fly in a massive spider's web. "You've been putting in a great deal of overtime," she comments without looking up. "Yes Mrs. Hardison, but I'm putting the time to productive use. I hope to have a strong alpha model up by Wednesday." She looks up and me and I can't tell if she's angry or happy; she's like a robot, cold and pitiless.

"That is acceptable," she nods. "Friday would have been fine." "Thank you," I sigh. "That wasn't a compliment Mr. Duarte, it was an assessment of the situation," she says evenly. "So, are you working late tonight?"

"I ..." I stammer because there is no way I can judge what the right answers are. "I am ... staying ... no ... I'm leaving on time tonight," I manage to get out." She goes back to her work without physically acknowledging my response. "You may go," she dismisses me.

(Friday Night) I'm working up some stir-fry using the instructions from one of Gloria's cook books at her place. I think I'm doing it okay, but I haven't cooked this in three years. I hear noise from the front of the building but I can't abandon my food so I'm still cooking away when two arms wrap themselves around me and a head presses against my back.

"I still wasn't sure you would be here," she murmurs to me. "I wasn't sure I'd be here Gloria. I'm dog tired," I answer. I am not going to directly complain about work. In a way it isn't Gloria's fault; it is Mrs. Hardison's. "What are you cooking?" she sniffs.

"I remembered you like Chinese so I got us some fresh produce from the market and I am cooking what I hope will be duck," I respond. "It smells good," she sighs as she ran her hands up and down my chest. "Let me go up and change." I have finished by the time she comes back down in a sweat shirt and shorts; I'm pretty sure she's braless.

"Damn," I whisper but she hears me anyway. "What is it?" she questions. "I can't get over how beautiful you are," I tell her. She carefully weighs my statement within her intriguingly sharp mind.

"I like that," she accepts my honesty. "Now I'd like to eat," she informs me. I dole out two helpings and set the plates down on the table. When she is about to dig in I pull her plate away. "What?" she reacts suspiciously. "Kiss the cook," I command.

We lock gazes and I can feel her desire to dominate and control me, but there is something else there as well, slowly growing in her mind; it is the desire for companionship. Gloria stands up and leans across table, kissing me. She tastes sweet like ginger on my tongue. I slip her plate back to her and she digs in.

"Good," she says as she finishes and uses a napkin to dab her lips. "You wouldn't want to disappoint me tonight." "Oh, bad day?" I ask cautiously. "Bad week," she answers. "I have this employee who needs me to hold his hand the entire time. It is really trying. He is in severe need of motivation."

"What is their boss like? Sometimes the problem is with the leadership," I suggest. "Oh, the boss in this case is sharp, understanding, and inspirational," she informs me. "I envy him," I respond. "My boss is a real ball-buster, tyrant, and uses fear as a motivational technique." Gloria glares at me.

"Do they have any good qualities?" she warns me. "She's breathtakingly attractive, sexually demanding, and incredibly intelligent to the point of erotic captivation," I admit. "Highly intelligent people are often misunderstood by the less gifted," Gloria points out.

"In my experience the best thing about intelligent people that you are always learning something new and exciting about them," I tell her. "That works for me, but what do you plan to stay interesting?" she taunts me. "I was planning to read Fifty Shades of Gray for relationship advice," I grin.

"I'm surprised," Gloria states. "Are you really interested in that kind of thing?" I ask. "No, I surprised you can read," is her biting commentary. This make me stand up and come around the table. Gloria stands to meet me and when I put my arms around the small of her back, she put her hands against my shoulders to keep my lips at bay.

"No," she declares as she keeps me from her. I get within a hair's breathe of her face and stop. Our eyes meet and neither one of us blinks. "I want you," I say hoarsely. She shakes her head in the negative. We remain locked until her whole energy changes.

"Kiss me," she commands. I hesitate but her eyes draw me in. No sooner than our tongues touch does she pull back again and hugs me. "I've missed you," she admits. "Do you know how hard it is to see you at your desk and not come around and kiss you?" I tell her gently.

"I know," she sighs. "Now that I know what it is like to have your arms around me it is hard to not want to come down to you for a quick hug. When I get home the house feels so empty now." "I'm a phone call away," I respond. "I've been paying attention to your hours. You need your sleep and I want you to do well ... for that tyrant of a boss."

"Don't worry about that one; I have a few things in mind for her," I hint at her wickedly. Gloria is clearly torn between her own sexuality and her desire to know and control events. "Can you give me a preview?" she murmurs. "Not right now, but maybe in about an hour after we've had a chance to digest our dinners. I have some work to finish anyway," I groan. Gloria gives me a lingering kiss and smiles.

"Nice dodge Mr. Duarte. Lucky for you I have work to do too," she concedes. She makes her way to the living room and gets out her computer. I take the time to clean up the kitchen before joining her. She sits on the sofa and I take a seat at her feet. I'm working away when I feel her fingers running through my thick brown hair and I stop to relish the sensation.

Before I can react she stops and I hear her working once more. Promptly one hour later she closes her laptop and nudges me with her foot. "I'm ready," she informs me. "I'm not," I reply.

"I don't care," she counters. When I don't move she nudges me again and then a bit harder. "I want to go upstairs," she insists. I cleverly remain unresponsive and I can hear a deep panther-like rumbling from her but then something changes. She leans forward and whispers in my ear. "If you beat me upstairs you can do whatever you want to me."

In retrospect I should have known that I was starting off on the floor while she was sitting on the sofa, but I can't claim the incentive wasn't worth it. Her eyes are feverish with the rush of victory as she beckons me close once we are in her bedroom. She sits on the bed and opens her legs, drawing me forward. She pushes me down so that I am on my knees.

"What would you have done if I beat you up here?" I have to ask. "Given you whatever you wanted," she admits. "I knew I should have tripped you," I mutter. "You would have cheated to get me," she inquires intently.

"No; when I get you I'll earn it," I respond with intensity. I know I'm going to have her one day. She kisses me over much of my face. Gloria reaches out and undoes my tie, pulling it free and using the action to pull me into her bosom. She has me stand and starts unbuttoning my shirt striping me of it in two brutal yanks.

"Come here," she tells me. As I do she runs her hands over my chest and shoulders breathing and kissing my nipples. I put my hands on her shoulders and a she considers it before giving me the nod. I grasp her sweat shirt and remove it with languid grace. Her breasts swing free with just a hint of sag but in my mind that curvature makes them all the more desirable.

I move to stroke them but she shakes her head. Damn this woman is driving me crazy. She starts working my belt buckle off instead. When my pants fall down; she takes a minute to caress my hard-on through my boxers. "Please," I beg because my desire has become so strong for her.

"Ssshhh ..." she purrs, "I'm getting used to having a lover. I'm getting used to having you. Now finish taking your clothes off," she says gently. I kneel; take off my shoes then pants. While I'm kneeling before her once more she stands up. She wiggles out of her shorts and just like she had no bra on, she has no underwear on underneath either. I press in and kiss her pubic area. This she allows and puts her hand on my head.

I bring my hand up her thighs until I grabbed hold of her buttocks all the while kissing her and breathing in deeply of her musk. Gloria rocks back and forth and this allows me to lick her labia with a quick jabs of my tongue. I move one of her legs up on the bed so she is balancing on the other, allowing me better access her pussy; now I have full contact along the entire length.

"Good boy," she murmurs. "That's it." I rub my lower lip along her labia and drive my tongue into her until she shakes. Now I pull back and Gloria looks down on me with some consternation. "Who is fucking who?" I taunt her with her fluids on my lips. "Don't stop," she demands. I stick a finger into her and swirl it around until she gasps.

"Who is fucking who?" I repeat. "Damn you," she whispers. I stop moving my finger around and she groans. "You are fucking me," she confesses desperately. I willfully return my attentions to her pussy. With fingers, lips, tongue and teeth I have her gasping and pushing my head in.

She keeps pushing into my mouth and I keep pressing back setting us in a rocking motion that permits me to delve even deeper. "Eddie," she mewls which suggests to me she wants the tease and not the climax. I take it nice and easy and she rewards me with some heavy breathing.

"Lower," she whispers. I lick lower until I'm at the end of her pussy. "Lower," she repeats with eager gasps. I start to wonder where this is going, but I not lick beneath cunt going farther and farther back until my neck hurts and my tongue touches her anus. "Oh," she groans loudly, "Yes." I pull back.

"I'm not sure about this," I inform her. "Continue," she urges me. When I still look hesitant she adds, "Please." My experiences with anal sex consist of one drunken night with a rather kinky girl. That Gloria would be into this is mind-blowing. I try to go back in but the angle is too uncomfortable so I quickly figure out that I need to wet two fingers and start pushing one in.

This gets her heart racing and her breath is becoming deep and ragged. I start sucking and nibbling all along her pussy letting my tongue dance around and leaving no velvety fold neglected. The leg supporting her weight starts trembling and the vibrations creep up her body. When she starts to convulse I try to hold her up with my own free hand.

I fail and she falls back on the bed. I pull my finger out of her anus while I kiss my way up her stomach. "I cannot remember anyone else touching me in such a way and giving me such pleasure," she lauds me. I guess that is a version of thank you. I kiss my way up to her breastbone and coax a response from one of her nipples with my fingers. I'm still between her legs and I'm close to entering her.

"Not right now," she says with more compassion than normal. I roll to the side and scoot up beside her. Unbidden she rolls into me and puts a hand on my stomach. She looks over for some time before tears well up in her eyes filled with pain and self-loathing. I try to hold her close but she stops me.

"Why?" she starts to sob. I feel I know what this means. "You have so much to work through Gloria. You can't hope that is something that is going to be over in one day, one week, or one month," I tell her. "It hurts so much and I hate feeling this way ... weak. I'm not weak," she seethes. "Why did you do to this me?"

"I don't think I can express how much it hurts me to see the pain in your eyes right now," I apologize. "You are not weak; in fact you are the strongest woman I know. I'm not going to let you down and I'm going to do whatever it takes for you to get through this." She puts her head on my chest, tears slowly rolling down on me.

"Damn it," she sobs softly. "I used to love without reservation. I find myself wanting to pull away and drive you out, but I want you to stay as well. It is crazy." "Thanks for taking me back. Walking out on you was the hardest thing I've ever done," I confess. We stay together for what me a half an hour before her self-control wins out of her anguish.

"I want to go to sleep now," she sniffles. "Go get me a nightshirt -- top drawer." I obediently get out of bed then an idea occurs to me. I reach down, pick up my dress shirt and toss it to her. "Funny," she snorts. We look at each other before she sighs and puts it on. She turns over, crawls beneath the covers and rolls onto her side away from me. I cut off the lights and join her, but not a word is spoken before we both drift off to sleep.

(Saturday) I'm not sure what makes me wake up, but the first hints of sunrise are pushing aside the night sky when I do. I look over, noticing that she's moved closer to me and rolled onto her back, the pale pink skin of her face and chest contrasted with her free-flowing black hair. I turn over onto my elbow and kiss her lightly on the lips. She smiles and murmurs so I kiss her again; she responds by moving closer to me.

I have a decision to make; I could gently shake her awake or I could experiment with the boundaries we've set up -- how much sex is too much. I nudge the shirt aside exposing a nipple. I tickle it with my tongue getting an instant reaction and a slight intake of breathe. I move with a little more passion and she starts to squirm.

I kiss my way down to her belly button and give it light touches with the tongue. I move a hand down and she's wet and sexually ready. I rise up over her carefully moving her legs aside before letting my penis touch her pussy. She moans, thrusts her hips up incrementally and lets me press past her lips. I push deeper with incredible care with her breathe deepening.

"Ummm, that feels nice," she moans sleepily; "morning sex." "I was afraid I'd freak you out, but I wanted to make you happy too," I say. She wraps her arms around my neck and starts pushing back against my thrusts. "I approve of your initiative Mr. Duarte," she sighs with pleasure.

I thrust with more urgency until I see her lazy smile turn into panic. "Wait! Put on a rubber," he demands. "What ... I," I stammer. "I'm not on the pill," he explains. Oh crap!

"The side drawer," she instruct hastily. As concern rushes over me I feel her still thrusting against me. I reluctantly pull out and then race for the brand new box of prophylactics. Gloria is doing a little self-stimulation until I station myself back between her legs. She bites her lip and looks at me with a seductive and devilish expression meant to drive me crazy with lust. I happily enter her welcoming vagina once more.

"Oh God," she greets me. "Yes, keep at it," she urges me on as she once more wraps her arms around my neck and captivates me with her hungry gaze. "Do you like this?" she taunts. "I can't get enough of you Gloria. I don't want this to ever stop," I respond. "Good boy," she coos. I can sense her getting off on her newfound sexual control both emotionally and physically.

Her heavy breathing turns to panting and then to short, sharp intakes of breath. "Oh God Ed ... oh God!" she screams out as she pushes herself as hard down on me as she can. I pick up my pace and her breasts are bouncing from my thrusts. Her gaze latches on to me once more; her legs wrap around my ass and spur me along.

"That is it," she whispers; "give it to me Eddie." She draws herself to me and starts breathing into my ear. I feel myself tightening up and make three more sharp thrusts before I explode inside her. "Good morning," I gasp. She's still grinding her hips against me and grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

"Good morning," she smiles in a satisfied superior way. Even when I initiate sex she still manages to take control. This woman has no quit in her. "One day I am going to make you my own," I promise her. "I welcome the challenge Mr. Duarte," she purrs in delight.

The things which follow are typically normal yet new and special. We work out, shower, grab breakfast and then start working again. We both need to accomplish much before Monday gets here. We start out in the normal position; she on the sofa cross-legged while I'm on the floor at her feet but somewhere in the process she glides down beside me so we are working together in silence.

I can guess what is going through her mind; she's glad to see me working on the project she's entrusted me with and I know she wants to be proud of me. There is also the comfort of sharing your workspace with someone with the same interests. Finally she's felt lonely until now and she's soaking up my presence so close to her.

While I'm running some numbers I sneak a hand onto Gloria's knee and rub a finger along her kneecap. She doesn't acknowledge me but that's not a denial either. "I want to go out," I tell her. She doesn't respond in any meaningful manner for a bit. "Where?" is her curt reply.

"I don't know," I say. Gloria gives an exasperated mutter. "We are going to wander the streets?" she mocks me. "Now that's a great idea," I grin. "When was the last time you walked around this neighborhood? You have parks, little specialty shops a few blocks over, and the architecture here is exceptional."

"Have you been internet searching this instead of working?" she accuses me, but there is a smile on her lips. "I can do both," I tease her. "I'm good with my hands." Gloria put her computer up and stands. "Very well Mr. Duarte, I accept your proposal. Let's get dressed," she allows. "Also, if you can catch me you can have me," and she is off like a shot.

This time I catch her right inside the door which is faster than my previous attempt. "Good Mr. Duarte, but not good enough," she breathes. She lets me hold onto her ass cheeks and rub my hands over them a few seconds before forcing her way free. Gloria and I strip down and start getting dressed, each stealing glances at each other, because there is something about a scantily clad form that draws the eye to it.

She's dressed in a nice pants suit while I'm in a t-shirt and jeans which leaves each of us a bit upset with the other. I'm not dressed for her upscale neighborhood and she's not dressed to have fun yet somehow we make a couple. "I'm not sure this is a good idea; I don't know what to do," she worries when we step outside. "Let's not do this."

I grab her by the arm and keep her going down the street while she struggles against me. "Trust me," I say calmly. "You have nothing to be ashamed of. We are two people out enjoying a sunny day." I know I'm dragging her out of her comfort zone; that's the point. She can be so strong and I'm going to remind her of that.

She is too self-possessed to glance around but she incrementally relaxes when no one reacts to us. We get some ice cream cones and I can tell she loves it. I can't imagine she's done anything close to this in fifteen years. The park looks good and she looks even better with the sun glancing off her hair and this subtle pleasure playing across her face.

"Take me home," she directs me. The walk back is done in silence but once she gets back she turns to me. "What did that accomplish?" Emotionally she's pushing me away again. "Don't be a bitch," I say and immediately regret. Her face hardens. "Upset because things didn't work out as you planned?" she mocks me.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say that. Sometimes it is one step forward, two steps back with us," I explain. She's clearly still angry but she manages a curt nod. "I accept your apology," she states with no visible emotion. I reach forward to hold her and she pulls away. "No." She heads upstairs and I give her space because I don't know what to do.

I sit down and start working again. I hear her coming in but keep my nose to the grindstone. "Eddie, if you are going to stay with me you have to do things my way," she tells me. "Okay," I respond immediately. She studies me then nods and leaves. When Gloria gets back she resumes her seat on the sofa like nothing has happened.

I'm beginning to think I totally fucked things up when she starts running her hands through my hair again. I put my hand up, she lets me run my fingers over hers, and we linger for a second or two before she resumes work. "If you get the project in by Wednesday I'd like to celebrate," she says out of the blue.

"What do you have in mind?" I reply. "I could cook you dinner," she answers, which stuns me. I didn't think she knew how to cook. "That sounds great. What are we having?" I inquire. "Steak strips, rice and vegetables," she responds. I look up at her.

"That sounds great; when do you want me to show up?" "Seven," she fires off. I am really beginning to think she doesn't know what she's doing. "What do I owe you for dinner last night? I know you are on a restricted budget." "Can't I provide dinner for my girl?" I ask her. Gloria arches an eyebrow.

"If you want to have financial equality in our relationship so be it," is her answer. Another woman might respect that decision but to Mrs. Hardison it is a test; nothing more and nothing less. "I expect to be eating steak on Wednesday," she challenges me. "Sleep is overrated," I tell her. She starts to think I'm joking then she sees the determination in my eyes.

We are sitting around the table eating some Italian takeout when something I've been meaning to ask her comes back to the forefront of my mind. "Do you really like anal sex?" Not the best dinner conversation but suddenly I want to know. I'm not sure what kind of reaction I'll get.

"Oh God yes," she exclaims excitedly. "Ever since college I've loved it," she adds with a pleasurable sigh. This is not at all what I was looking for. She looks at me with a sly grin. "This is not what you expected me to say?" "Maybe not with such enthusiasm," I admit.

"Am I too experienced for you?" she questions. "I would say you are more experienced, but I'm looking forward to catching up," I promise her. "Who says I'll ever let you catch up?" she says. "I will never know unless I try," I respond.

"Ambition becomes you Mr. Duarte," she smiles. "What can I say; I'm highly motivated," I shoot right back. Gloria loves ambition and she loves being desired so it is a win-win for her and I can see that excitement in her eyes. I wonder if this was what it was like with her husband all those years ago. I can't see her with just any man.

After that foray into the erotic the rest of dinner is mundane, domestic talk. When we finish I convince Gloria to put work aside and watch some Masterpiece Theater. I have my arm around her in no time and she has a hand on my thigh. When I get back with some wine from the kitchen she's moved to the far side of the sofa with her feet up and I want to groan.

She gets her wine and I get mine and I've positioned myself on the opposite side of the sofa with my feet touching hers. I am watching the show when I feel her feet going soul to soul with mine. I don't think much about it until she starts to push my legs back. I counter and soon an all-out foot war is going on. Now I know she wasn't pulling back when she chose to sit where she sat, she was setting me up for this contest.

"Let's put our wines down before something bad happens," she suggests. I nod but when I put my down she launches a surprise attack. My legs are pushed up and back and I'm struggling to get back down to the midpoint. Gloria's legs are turning out to be too strong and I finally have to give up.

"You cheated," I accuse her. "No Mr. Duarte, I showed initiative and planning," she laughs. "You relied on raw talent alone." "How come with me it is cheating and with you it is initiative?" I grouse. "Because I'm the Boss," she grins. I've had enough so I grab her legs and yank her toward me. I dive between her legs and land on top of her.

"No," she laughs playfully so I risk ignoring her and press her down. She taps me on the chest making mock protests and when I try to kiss her she swings her head from side to side avoiding me. I sneak down onto her neck and starts sucking. First she squawks but those protests turn into moans.

"Tell me you're sorry," I taunt her. "Never!" she shouts. We find ourselves dry humping when she grabs my head and looks deep into my eyes. "What are we going to do when you get tired of sex with me?" "I don't know; I don't plan fifty years in advance," I tease. I can tell by her expression that she likes that answer because we are kissing passionately in seconds.

"We are going upstairs," she informs me. For a fraction of a second I feel like resisting but then I'd be a fool to deny what I want so I'm pulling her up and dragging her to the bedroom instead. We roll around on the bed groping and pawing one another. "I want you to be on top," I smile because I've beaten her to the punch and she knows it.

Now she can get what she wants, or she can spite me in a fit of control. This time I've trumped her and passion trumps intellect. I have her naked in under thirty seconds. "Condom," she reminds me. As she mounts me I grab a double-handful of her breast and I love the heaviness of them in my hands.

Gloria is so enthusiastic that she is literally bouncing on me pushing her toward climax. "I told you I had to be in charge," she gasps. "I'm showing initiative and planning," I pant. "Fuck you," she cries out between sharp intakes of breath.

"Isn't that the point," I taunt her. She responds by grinding down even harder. "Who is fucking who?" she demands. "You are fucking me," I confess. "Damn right," she grins triumphantly. "You are mine; all mine." "I'm going to make you mine," I reply. I love the look in her eyes when I say that.

(Wednesday) At ten o'clock sharp I upload the first version of my project to the system and let Leslie know. She tells me I've done a good job and that she wants an update on my progress toward the Beta. I ask her if I ever get a day off. "Yes," she laughs. "It is called Christmas."

At 10:15 I get a message from a Mr. Hamid Rashid over in Legal telling me to come over and see him at eleven. I have to go through the corporate directory to find out who he is. The guy is the coordinator for Internal Processes, which translates over as a manager. Why does a man two pay grades above me want to see a peon like me? Since he wants to see me at eleven so I show up five minutes early.

I am hardly expecting anything pleasant so I'm a bit surprised when I get ushered right into his office. He stands up, smiles at me and shakes my hand. "A moment please," he tells me as he points to a chair for me to sit in. He taps his headpiece and makes a call.

"Mr. Duarte is here," is all he says. He nods once, smiles warmly to me again. "You are to go to Ms. Cook's office. My assistant will show you the way." With that I am dismissed. His assistant, some closed-off guy named Edward, takes me away. I'd ask him who Ms. Cook is but he's treating me like a leper.

Oh. My. God. Ms. Cook is Ms. Joyce Cook, Director of Legal Affairs for the corporation. I'm feeling horribly guilty and I don't know what I've done wrong yet. Edward leaves me with Ms. Cook's assistant, a stern looking willowy woman named Katherine Wilson. "So Katherine, what am I here for?" I grin. She stops working and looks up at me over a finely-wired pair of glasses. Her grey hair still has streaks of auburn in it, and her pale thin lips are drawn in a tight line.

"Do we know one another?" she inquires. "No." "Then you may call me Mrs. Wilson," she corrects me. "So Mrs. Wilson, do you know why I am here?" I start over.

"No. I keep to my own business and don't pry into the affairs of others," she informs me. I nod. "Fair enough." I feel like I've walked into some B-grade movie Gestapo flick where no one knows anything. Mrs. Wilson looks over at me after a minute, no doubt getting instructions over her earpiece. "You may go in now," she instructs. I do as commanded.

Were as Mrs. Hardison's office is Spartan, Ms. Cook's office is luxurious filled with pictures, awards and citations. Her seats are plush and comfortable-looking. Ms. Cook's gaze captures me the moment I step in. The door makes an ominous click when it shuts so I suck it up and walk forward.

"Very punctual Mr. Duarte," she compliments me. "I know your time is very valuable," I respond; after all I don't know what else to say. "I understand you've been doing very significant work for the company. That is a lot of responsibility for someone only with us for one year," she says. "Have a seat."

I take a seat and Ms. Cook comes around the table and leans against it in front of me. Now she's a very attractive woman, her just-past-shoulder length hair is blonde going to grey. She has a pale complexion virtually free of blemishes, nice breasts, a pleasant if not thin waist and full womanly hips. Her skirt is shorter than I would have expected, mid-thigh, but it shows off her luxurious thighs and strong calves.

She catches me looking her over and I blush which causes a wicked grin to crease her lips. She crosses her legs in a successful bid to look even sexier. "Earth to Mr. Duarte," she smiles. I gulp. "Yes Ms. Cook, what can I do for you?" I say quietly.

"You can answer some questions," she informs me. She shifts around reaching for a folder on her desk allowing me a glimpse of her nice largish ass. Were Gloria is firm and tight, Joyce is plush and curvaceous. While I'm thinking that, she slides a picture over to me. It shows me and Gloria walking down the street.

"Ah ..." I don't know what else to say. "How do you explain this?" she asks politely. "It is Mrs. Hardison and I going down a street in her neighborhood on our way to get some ice cream," I explain.

She slides a few more photographs my way. They show me going into Gloria's place at night and leaving in the morning. I have a sinking feeling but I don't know where this is going. "What are we to make of these?" she persisted. "I'm not sure where you are going with this," I tell her. She licks her lips.

"I think an inappropriate relationship is going on here," she states with some sympathy. "I ... um, how so?" I respond. "Are you really that dense?" she asks. "No, but I'm not sure what business this is of yours," I reply. "So we are seeing each other. If you think she's been doing me any favors, you are mistaken." The idea of Mrs. Hardison doing anyone any favor is nuts, but that seems a stupid thing to say right now.

"Let me put this in perspective for you, Mr. Duarte," she says as she pulls out two more papers. "These are two sexual harassment complaints filed against you that are still pending." I look them over. They are from two of my female co-workers that I had a few good nights with, but it was totally consensual.

"Why am I not fired yet?" I inquire. "Because there is a way out of this for you; it is possible for these problems to be dealt with in house, say Sensitivity Training, but you need to do something for me," is her friendly reply. I wait for the other shoe to drop.

"You can file a sexual harassment complaint against Gloria Hardison," she offers. "I ... what ... why?" I stammer. "She's the one with the power and authority in your relationship, Mr. Duarte. She's in a position to take advantage of you, or provide you with favors," she explains.

"No," I answer. "Why?" "She's not taking advantage of me and she's certainly not doing me any favors," I respond. "Your loyalty is commendable but ill-founded. We both know she had no loyalty to you and if you don't do something to save yourself she will certainly let go down alone," she says.

"I wouldn't do that to her," I persist. "You can't believe others haven't come before you, do you? Don't let her make a fool of you and throw your career away." She is right; I am totally blown away. I am about to be barbecued. "I need to think about it," I tell her.

"You really care about her, I can see that. Don't wait too long because once word of this gets out you are finished and there is nothing else I can do for you," she warns me. "You may go." Normally I wouldn't mind watching her walk around her desk, but I am desperate to get out of there. I get back to my desk, throw myself into my work but my heart isn't in it.

(Wednesday night) I walk in and I know she's setting stuff on fire in the kitchen. I set down my overnight bag and walk into see what I can do. Gloria has totally lost control of the situation; the steak has caught fire, the vegetables are blackened, and I have no doubt the rice has turned to mush. "Here, let me help you with that," I offer. She looks at me defiantly but the oven fan is starting to lose the battle against the smoke.

I step up and take over without further comment. I am right; dinner is a total loss. "This isn't fair," she complains. "You can do this; why can't I?" "Rich people go out to eat at five star restaurants; poor people learn to cook on hot plates," I explain. "How about that soup and salad place; they deliver?" I add.

Gloria hangs her head in defeat for about half a second. "I am going to cook one meal every weekend," she insists and I hug her for it. She's a bit stiff because she hates to lose out or to fail in a commitment but she sees I'm not holding it against her. She gently pulls away and places our orders then helps me clean up the kitchen while we wait

We are sitting down on the floor, food around us and backs to the sofa with one of her legs lying over mine when I feel the need to open up to her. "I was called to Joyce Cook's office today," I begin. Gloria stops eating but she doesn't look my way.

"What did she want?" Gloria asks softly. "She wanted me to file a sexual harassment complaint against you," I answer. "Oh," followed a few seconds later by, "what else did she say?" "Remember those two women in your department I had affairs with? They have filed complaints against me," I continue.

"What are you going to do?" she whispers. It is almost tragic. "What do you mean?" I ask. "I am going to face the music. What else can I do?" "Mr. Duarte you are throwing your career away. There is nothing I can do to help you and these harassment complaints are going to haunt your forever," she informs me.

"Gloria, if I make that complaint you won't make President. That is your plan and I'm not going to sink it," I tell her. Now she turns and looks at me. "Please think about this," she cautions me. "Okay," I say. I'm not sure how much there is to think about.

(Thursday morning) I show up early and work my ass off until 8:50 when I clean up my station and go over to legal. I walk over to Mrs. Wilson's desk where she gives me an icy stare I return with hostility. "I need to see Ms. Cook," I tell her. "She's busy. You need to make an appointment," she responds.

"I need to see her now," I insist. "She will let you know when she needs to see you," she glares. "That won't be necessary. You can relay my message for me," I say before taking in a deep breath. "Tell her she can stick her deal up her fucking ass!" I shout loud enough for the whole floor to hear. Mrs. Wilson pales and all the work around us stops. "Are you sure you have that or do I need to repeat myself?" I snap. Mrs. Wilson shakes her head still in disbelief before I turn and leave.

I end up at my desk never surer that I've done the right thing and that I'm going to bask in this sensation for a long time in the unemployment line. I pour myself back into my work because until I'm escorted from the building I am going to have pride in my job. It is almost time for lunch when I get a call from Leslie. I'm to report to Mrs. Hardison's office immediately.

Leslie is carefully neutral when I show up, motioning me to go in as soon as she spots me. I walk in and see Mrs. Hardison behind her desk and Ms. Cook sitting in front of it. Ms. Cook's gaze wanders over me in an appraising manner. "Mr. Duarte, I have been informed that you used profanity in front of Ms. Cook's office this morning," Mrs. Hardison addresses me calmly.

"Yes Mrs. Hardison I did," I confess. "You will never do this again or you can look for employment elsewhere. Now you owe Ms. Cook a heartfelt apology," Mrs. Hardison instructs me. I turn and face Cook. "Ms. Cook I apologize for my failure to control myself this morning. I only hope my message was not lost in translation."

Ms. Cook flushes but Mrs. Hardison remains impassive. "Well Joyce, I hope this resolution is satisfactory with you. From this point forward if you have a problem with anyone in my department you can be assured that you can come to me with any of your concerns. This is my department after all."

"Very well," says Ms. Cook as she stands up, smiles at Mrs. Hardison then nods to me before leaving. I fidget uncomfortably. "Mr. Duarte certainly you could have found a more appropriate way to deal with this situation. I expected better from you. This situation will not repeat itself," she commands.

"Yes Mrs. Hardison; May I ask a question?" I say carefully. "Ask." "Is this going to be a strike against me?" I inquire. "No. You did nothing to harm this department or our productivity. Go back to work," she finishes. As I head out of the office Leslie catches my eye.

"Telling her she can stick her deal up her fucking ass," she giggles. "That is priceless. I don't even know why you said it but I'm happy to see you are still alive." At three o'clock I am informed that I am going to have two hours of sensitivity training each day for the next two weeks. Both women in the complaints come by and apologize. I tell them not to worry about it; we were all in the same box.

(Friday night) I'm getting French toast, veggie omelets, and smoked ham for dinner when I hear Gloria come storming in. She enters the kitchen puts her hands on her hips and looks furiously at me. "I don't need your help," she declares. "Did it occur to you I was doing it for myself?" I respond calmly. Clearly it hasn't.

"No," she says suspiciously. "When I said I wanted you I also said I wanted to earn you and I can't do that if I tear you down. I'm a better man because of you and I'm not going to give that up, certainly not to someone like Joyce Cook." "You know, you really annoy the crap out of me at times. Before I met you my life was nice and tidy," Gloria growls.

"Yes I know I annoy you but has it been all bad?" I ask. "No!" she snaps. "I'm happy and I love waking up with you next to me and I look forward to having sex once more and eating your meals and touching you when you work. The way you touch me makes me feel alive and the way you look at me makes me feel like a woman once more."

"Well, can I make you happy right now?" I inquire. "Yes," she smiles and I can see the stress starting to bleed away. "Sure, let me serve up your omelet and we should be ready to go," I grin back at her. "Oh, I was hoping to go upstairs, but if you want to eat I can wait," she sighs sensually.

"Have I told you how much better cold omelets are?" I say as I pull her into my arms. "Tell me you want me," she murmurs. "Gloria, I have to have you," I embellish. "That will do Mr. Duarte; that will do."

She leads me upstairs but my hand remains on her hip the entire time. We don't even need words as we disrobe but we are so close that from time to time, between actions, we touch each other. Gloria crawls onto the bed and turns to examine me as I move on top of her. "Condom," she reminds me. I give her a clever smirk.

"Trust me," I suggest. She has that precious look that comes from those rare times she surrenders control. She nods shyly yet deliciously at the same time. I start off with some casual foreplay, kissing her lips, neck breastbone and breasts. I remain between her thighs, slowly working her knees up while toying with my penis and her pussy.

My entry of her is expected and even welcomed by Gloria. "Mmmm ..." is the noise she makes as I slide in. We start working together coaxing, not forcing, my way into her. "Careful," she whispers as her breathing becomes more labored. I acknowledge her words by pushing her knees farther up.

"What are you ..." she starts to ask but then I slide out and push her legs even further back. I let my cock slide farther down until it presses against her anus. "Ohh ..." she grins, "Take it easy." I steadily build pressure until she gasps and I plunge in. Gloria clutches me tight and I can feel her heart flutter. I press a little farther and her grasp on me tightens painfully.

"I never thought you would do this for me," she moans. I have her bent over in two and am slowly pushing my cock up her ass and she's thanking me? I would think by this time that she would known that there isn't anything I wouldn't do for her. Gloria keeps an ironclad grip until I'm fully inside of her and I can feel her straining muscles starting to relax.

"Now," she urges me. I pull out a little bit at a time until I'm only a quarter of the way in then push back. "Harder," she commands. I comply and I'm soon causing her to cry out every time I enter her to my fullest extent. I push her legs up and aside until I can kiss her and she ravenously embraces me back.

I don't want to taunt her; I don't want her to beg, or say thank you, or any of that crap. The passion on her face and the exhilaration in her eyes is more than enough so we fuck in silence save for the slapping of flesh on flesh. Her breathing betrays her at last but its effect overwhelms me first.

"Gloria," I shout as I start cumming inside her. "Don't stop," she begs me, "please don't stop ... so close." I force my cramping muscles to obey as she does her best to thrust against me. "Ugh, ugh, ugh ... Yes!" she cries out; tears well in her eyes as she struggles for air.

We finally have to break up; the strain of her body being folded up forces me out and lets her legs fall to the side. "Oh God damn Mr. Duarte, you have exceeded my expectations," she praises me. "That was wild," I respond. "I can't say I'd mind doing that again."

"Eddie, come here," Gloria beckons me. I crawl up her body until we are next to each other and she can gently clasp my face in her two hands. "I am going to require you to repeat this performance from time to time." "With a body like yours how can I say no?" I smile back at her.

(Saturday) Saturday is a bad day. She spends most of the time upset and I spend my time walking on eggshells. Toward afternoon she comes out of her funk and by the way she acts I can tell she wants to say she's sorry but can't bring herself to do it. Somehow I implant in her the idea that she doesn't need to apologize which is another step toward recovery.

She stuns and scares me that evening. We are watching some TV after we've put work aside on opposite sides of the sofa when she suddenly moves across the sofa and lays her head in my lap. I brush the hair from over her ear and gently tease her lobe. "You make me happy; you really do," she confides in me.

"I've never felt better in all my life," I whisper in return. "I understand that now or at least I'm trying to," she tells me. After a bit she adds, "You have no idea what we are doing together, do you?" "No, do you?" I respond.

"No and that I don't know where we fit in is both irritating and scary to me," she answers. "I will be here right beside you when we figure it out," I promise her. "I find that less that reassuring," she grouses but with no real heat. It also doesn't stop her from sighing contently as she runs her hand along my thigh and knee. She is happy despite herself.

(Thursday) I've put in another long day and I'm getting back for the Metro stop when my poor boy instincts kick in. Someone is following me and they are gaining. I don't consider myself a coward but I'm definitely the prey in this situation so I break out in a run. I'm in sight of my apartment building when he pushes me from behind and I go flying into the wall at the mouth of an alley.

Rolling over I see this large man whipping out a knife. He's towering over me and I don't like his next words one bit. "You are going to pay for screwing with me," he snarls. I have no idea who this bastard is then I see the knife and most of my rational thought flees me. He moves forward with the knife and I block with my satchel where my laptop saves my life.

He responds by kicking the satchel into my chest driving my air out. Screaming in this neighborhood is kind of pointless anyway. "You should have stayed out of my business; now I'm going to carve up your face," he adds. "Dude, I have no idea who you are," I wheeze.

The guy kicks my satchel aside and is moving in for the kill when a shot rings out. "Mother-fucker! What the hell do you think you're doing?" someone shouts. The guy with the knife spins and I realize it is my drug dealer friend and he's pointing the gun I didn't know he had down at my assailant.

"This is none of your business," my attacker threatens but his resolve weakens when the hammer cocks and my buddy points his gun right at the guy. "I'm making it my damn business," my guy sneers. The attacker backs away from me and hold his hand out in the open.

"This isn't over," he threatens me. "Dude, I don't even know who you are," I answer. Only when he turns and hurries away do I recognize the profile: he's the guy who attacked Gloria. He is gone before I can collect my thoughts.

"Bro, you picked the wrong fucking dance partner," the drug dealer tells me as he helps me stand. "Thanks for saving my life," I tell him. He grins. "It is bad for business to have the cops sniffing around after some murder," he reasons, but I still think he's happy to have done me the favor.

I dismiss the desire to call the cops. What am I going to say; I was attacked by the guy who attacked my boss but you wouldn't know about because I didn't report it? I'm not even sure if that makes me guilty of a crime. Instead I call Gloria. "Mrs. Hardison this is Mr. Duarte," I start, "I was attacked tonight and I think it was by the same person who attacked you. He said he was going to cut my face up."

"Are," she answers, "are you going to be into work tomorrow?" "Yes, I wasn't really hurt," I tell her. "You have project deadlines that need to meet and it would be unfortunate if you couldn't meet them," she says calmly.

"Trust me, I'll be there," I promise. There was a long pause. "Eddie I am glad you are okay," she says softly. "I'm fine Gloria. We can talk about this tomorrow night," I respond. "Tomorrow night then; goodnight Eddie," she tells me before hanging up.

(Friday) I get in early which turns out to be good because amongst my morning e-mails is one from Leslie telling me that I have a 10:15 meeting with Mrs. Hardison to update her on the beta system. I'm proud with my work right until Mrs. Hardison finishes looking over my test projections and gives me that look that makes me feel ten inches tall.

"You have two weeks to make sequencing and catalog changes that coordinate within these new formatting guidelines," she instructs me. "Yes Mrs. Hardison," I answer. "You will of course remain on schedule," she states but that was her way of telling me that I've done a good job; The Bitch doesn't actually hand out compliments.

When I leave Leslie flags me down. "Whatever you are doing keep doing it," she smiles warmly. "What do you mean?" I reply innocently. She keeps smiling and I eventually nod before turning and leaving.

At 4:30 in the afternoon I receive a phone call from Katherine Wilson. She informs me that I have a 4:45 meeting with Joyce Cook. I agree because I have no choice but I immediately call Leslie. Unfortunately she tells me that Mrs. Hardison has chosen this day of all days to leave early. I don't know which piece of news disturbs me more.

I arrive early because it was the least stupid option available to me. "Hello Mrs. Wilson," I greet her curtly. She looks at me as if I am a small, small person which has becoming par for the course today. "Mr. Duarte is here," she speaks softly into her headset. "You may go in."

I enter with due reverence; sucking up can't hurt at this time. Joyce is looking like a woman half way between corporate shark and mature seductress. She stands up when I walk in -- this isn't good, I think. "Mr. Duarte - Eddie -- please have a seat," she invites me in.

"Thank you Ms. Cook," I gulp. I take a seat and she comes around the desk so that she is once more in my personal space. "I think we had a miscommunication the first time we met," she says sweetly. I don't know what the hell to make of that.

"I'm certainly hoping my behavior didn't upset you," I hazard to respond. She laughs. "You were definitely succinct," she laughs musically. "Do you mind if we write that off to work stress," I plead. She chuckles then comes off the desk until we are less than two feet apart. I now have a clear view of her burgundy bra peeking out of her beige silk blouse that is unbuttoned way too much.

Joyce reaches out and runs a finely manicure fingernail along my neck to my chin. "As I said, I think we have had a miscommunication," she murmurs. I slide the chair back and stand up; a move that only makes her seductive grin grow wider and her eyes to gain a certain lustful quality.

"Uh, Ms. Cook ..." I stammer. "Call me Joyce," she purrs. "Joyce, I don't understand what's going on. As you said earlier I may be dense, but you are an incredibly attractive, powerful woman. Why are we doing this? I'm certain there are a hundred men in this company who would rip off their own right arm to be with you."

"Was that a compliment?" she replies. "Ms. -- Joyce, yes it was," I tell her. "Do you like mature woman?" she asks. "I hadn't really thought about it," I confess. "Women are women. I don't see what age has to do with it."

"Isn't that precious," she says with a certain new intensity. "I find you to be an interesting man, Eddie." Okay, I'm not super-buff, super-hot, or a corporate hotshot on his way up so this makes no sense to me. "Can I get out of this room without insulting you?" I manage to get out. "We could go out to dinner," she suggests.

"Um, I have plans for tonight," I respond. "You and Gloria?" she questions me. "Well since you already know about us then yes," I confess. "You definitely appear to be devoted to her. I do wish you would understand that she may not be as devoted to you," she instructs me.

"If you knew her like I do, you wouldn't believe that," I promise her. The look she gives me is almost unfathomable. She must have known Mrs. Hardison for almost twenty years while I've only known her for a few months. "I think I can let you go to her now Eddie, but promise me we will do lunch sometime soon," she smiles.

"Yes, sure, whatever you say," I answer hastily. I back a few steps for the door and she gives me a nod to leave. I'm several steps out the door when I realize that the floor is almost deserted. If something had happened I'd have been totally screwed. Of course, I'm not sure I'm not totally screwed anyway.

(Friday Evening) Gloria is home before me but it isn't like I really mind. I have to have some time with her before dinner. She stands up, meets me in the entry way and looks at me with deadly earnest. I'm brought up short; unsure what's gone right or wrong; does she know about my meeting with Joyce? "I'm pregnant," she tells me with utter calm. I can hardly express how happy I am and by the way she reacts my joy must be blossoming through. Gloria takes in a deep breath and smiles.

"I'm too old," she interjects. "Clearly not," I beam as I reach out to hug her. She momentarily tries to keep a distance but something about my excitement infects her and she rushes into my arms. "I'm not going to be a good mother," she worries.

"What do you mean? You will be a great one. After all, one of us has to be the smart parent and it certainly isn't going to be me," I say as I breathe her in deeply as she rests tightly in my arms. "Can't you be serious for once?" she mutters. "Sorry, but I'm too giddy with excitement to be thinking clearly. I'm so happy for us," I tell her.

"There really is an 'us' now," she whispers. "I want you to think about something Gloria. I'm willing to do whatever you want, but while I'm willing to be your partner for as long as you want me, I want to be your husband," I declare. That actually scares her.

"My last marriage didn't work out," she reminds me. "I'm smarter, better looking, and want you a hell of a lot more than that guy," I counter. "I need to think about it," she informs me. I nod; I know I'm a whole lot to handle. We hold onto each other for several minutes and it is a testament of how far we comes when she says,

"I'm glad you are happy with my news. I want to keep the child and I'm glad you will be here with me," she says with subtle emotion. We move as a pair to the sofa and I can't help but hold onto her for a while longer. "So tell me, how long have you known?" I get around to asking her.

"I went to the OBGYN on Tuesday for my semi-annual check-up and she called me this morning to give me ... the news," Gloria tells me.

"You couldn't tell me right then? I would have liked to know," I tease her. She looks at me in a condescending manner. "Mr. Duarte this is hardly workplace conversation. Personal matters are handled on personal time," she explains to me in all seriousness. I curl up my fists in anger at my sides; she can still be a bitch at times.

"Damn you woman! Sometimes I want to put you over my knees and spank you, you are so obstinate," I declare. The look in her eyes isn't one of submission, contempt or fear; it is it's a confrontational act of desire. "You wouldn't dare," she challenges me happily.

"Cross me and you will find out," I respond as I match her gaze. We have other things to discuss but right now I don't care about anything else. She's a long way from being my woman but I'm a lot closer to being her mate.