The structure speaks volumes about the man who’s in charge of it. When I first met Drew, he was so…regular. Granted, he’s one of the most beautiful men I’ve ever laid eyes on, but he still had this quiet confidence about him. His ‘I’m just a mere mortal’ persona.
Mere mortal my ass.
As I came to know him, I realized he was far beyond anything I could’ve ever imagined. Once I had the chance to search the web and see how the rest of the world knew him, I was blown away. By then, Drew O’Brien’s entire being had consumed me, just like the sweeping twin buildings.
Kirk drops me off in the front of the second building. I enter the revolving doors leading into the vast lobby of white marble floors and glass walls as far as the east is from the west. I see faces of many shades with equally diverse wardrobe choices, from business formal to ‘millennial’ casual. In my long-sleeved maroon jersey dress and boots, I feel right at home.
After getting my guest badge from reception, I’m instructed to take the elevator directly to the sixth floor, which is Drew’s executive suite. The second the doors open, a cute tall skinny blond guy, who can’t be older than twenty-five, makes a bee-line straight to me. I’m startled.
“Quen! Girl, girl, girl—I’ve so been dying to meet you! You are cah-yute!”
I’m like a deer startled in the brightest of high beams on a remote two-lane road at midnight. As he practically yanks me out into the lobby, I feel like a child being kidnapped and taken on all the fun rides my parents wouldn’t let me ride at Disneyland.
“Who are…” I can’t even get the rest out as he starts talking over me.
“Oh my God…he didn’t tell you about me?” He appears to be morbidly appalled. “I am only his lifesaver. Dude can’t live a day without me. The blatant disrespect of that man. I swear.”
I blink in the utmost confusion. “You are…”
“Sam, ‘The Right-Hand Man’. How d’ya do?” He introduces himself with an outstretched hand. As I take it, a lightbulb immediately shines bright in my brain.
Oh my God—he is Sam! Sam as in, I thought HE was a SHE and that ‘Sam’ was short for Samantha! I erupt in goofy laughter, shaking his hand hard. “Oh gosh, yes!”
Sam sighs loud in relief. “So, Mr. O-B did tell you about me. He told you I was his favorite employee, right? Please tell me he said that. I don’t know what that man says behind my back. I never have a clue how I’m doing until employee review time comes around.”
First of all, Mr. O-B? Did he actually name is boss after a tampon?
“I um…I know he took a call with you. But he…he never said…” I’m stammering all over the fucking place. Sam’s spirit plummets, and his earlier relief gives way to slight indignance.
“Yes, I know you two were on the road together—and he didn’t bother telling you about me? We’ll see if he gets another ‘Number One Boss’ mug from me this Boss’s Day in October,” Sam declares, rolling his eyes. “Forget him. He’s in there wrapping up his audio conference,” he says, gesturing towards the frosted glass windows past the seating area. “You want a cinnamon latte? Oh—we’ve got that new iconic September Vogue issue. You see it yet? Beyoncé is slaying that cover!” Sam points eagerly at the glass table in front of the black plush sofa in the seating area.
I’m caught up in a whirlwind of Sam’s ‘extra’. For the most part, I fucking love it, even though I’m a little out of sorts. Just like I would’ve never picked Drew out of a lineup to be a billionaire tech mogul, I wouldn’t have picked out this sweet big burst of pizzazz standing before me as his personal assistant. I pictured a tall, sexy, confident blonde female. Instead, I’m looking at a tall sexy, confident blond male.
Viva la Sam.
“I’m fine. Please don’t go out of your way to get me a latte. I saw the café on the first floor,” I say as I make my way over to the sofa.
“We actually have a latte machine up here in the kitchen.” He nods back in the opposite direction. “Mr. O-B loves the stuff. If he could hook it to an IV and stick it up his arm, he would. I honestly don’t understand how he maintains such a lean muscle mass with such an insane dairy intake,” he shudders.
I laugh and stop before sitting. Now, I’m thinking about Drew’s taut and tight muscles flexing as he thrusts inside me.
Repent, Waverly!
“I can go get it,” I practically bounce. But before I can move another step, Sam holds out his hand to halt me.
“Don’t you dare! Are you trying to get me fired? Sit your tail down and relax. I’ve got it. Would you like water, too?”
“No, just the latte. Thanks.”
Several minutes later, I’m nearly halfway done with my latte, which is in a paper cup and lid the same size as a ‘grande’ at Starbucks. With each sip, I close my eyes in ecstasy. I don’t blame Drew one bit for drinking this sensational shit every waking moment. I wonder if he has a latte machine at home.
Guess I’ll be finding out tonight.
Oh, shit—tonight. I’ll be in Drew’s bed. Even though I’m firmly seated on a comfortable sofa, my knees begin to shake. Memories of the man over in the next room going down on me flood my mind. That tongue of his is like a warm, moist, naughty garden snake wiggling in all the right spots. Jesus. And that thick, long cock…
“I don’t know what’s taking him so long.”
As soon as I hear Sam bellyaching from the reception area, I snap back to reality, readjusting my crossed legs, pressing them together even tighter under the magazine that I haven’t bothered to read. I hadn’t realized that Sam was off the call he just answered.
“It’s no problem, really,” I assure him.
“Does he talk much to you about his business dealings? You know anything about Gillen Tech?”
Gillen Tech is a multi-media tech company whose founder wanted out of the business. His main priority is to travel the world with his wife, since they are now empty-nesters. The acquisition of Gillen Tech would’ve brought DOB-Com to the next level. It was Drew’s dream deal, which he lost to a smaller conglomerate. It was what literally drove Drew up the I-5 in July to Vancouver, B.C. in order to blow off steam.
Perhaps I have Gillen Tech and my busted ass Neon to thank for meeting Drew.
“Yeah—I’m familiar with it,” I respond after a brief hesitation.
“That deal really butchered him. We worked so hard on that proposal. It was light years better than the Mom & Pop proposal that ultimately won the deal. But for some reason, the founder of Gillen Tech is still trying to get in touch with Mr. O-B, even though he didn’t sell him his company. Mr. O-B ain’t trying to hear it.” Sam purses his lips.
I chortle. “Can’t say I blame him.”
“Anyway, maybe Gillen Tech is back on the table now. Who knows? Maybe that’s what’s taking him so long to end the meeting.”
“No worries. It’s not like I’m leaving,” I chuckle.
“I just hate that he has you sitting here, bored out of your mind.”
“No, I’m not bored. You’re mighty entertaining.” I gleam.