Working Under Dom

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Chapter 2 - Dom's Lair

“Now I think I understand that long walk to the executioner block,” Ben complains as he marches to his newest calamity.

At the office of the Regional Manager of the finance division for Noble International Group, he encounters no other souls. The conference room and some training rooms are vacant. For the last week, they have been packed. Folks from corporate in Chicago visited to see about their operation. The Mid-Atlantic Region ranks the highest in productivity and some other metrics.

Most of the managers spend long hours in meetings down there. Dom, of course, leads the bunch. The review caused her to work late hours in prep for whatever these corporate guys requested to examine.

Megan, a fellow intern, and American University student, works in the Comptroller’s office where corporate also visited. She shares during happy hour last night that the visitors conducted an internal audit. The financial statements for the annual reports are their principal focus, among other things. No one knows the overall assessment results.

“I have nothing to worry about,” Ben murmurs to encourage himself and calm the jitters inside his chest. His stomach ties in knots as he wipes the sweat rising at his forehead. His heart also wants to escape up this throat.

“Everything’s fine as fine can be.”

Yesterday Ben swears his boss hadn’t moved from her desk. She wore the same navy pinstripe suit he left her in the previous night. Come this morning, Van says unknown employees are escorted off the premises. Heads sound like they roll off the chopping block to Ben. Both cubicle mates speculate if Dom’s pretty head may have been in the running when she summons the intern to her office.

“Yeah,” Ben pouts, “just fine.”

The intern pauses at the office door that leads to his condemnation. He takes a deep breath as he bolsters himself to get the unpleasantness over with so he can crawl somewhere to sulk and lick his wounds. Before he can raise a shaky fist to knock, Dom’s voice barks through the door, “Get in here!”

“Can she see me?” Ben mouths without making a sound.

“Now, Nettles!”

He jumps, startled out of one loafer while searching a bit frantically for a camera. His heart bottoms out low in his chest, and he wishes for more Tums as his stomach rolls in queasy waves. It’s too late to run back to his desk to get more since he has been spotted. Stumbling around, Ben gets his shoe back on his foot. He then turns the doorknob of Dom’s office and goes in despite his gross reservations.

The first thing in Dom’s office Ben notices is the spectacular view of the Nation’s Capital building from Pennsylvania Avenue. The bright light shining through the huge windows also contributes to the warmth in the space. Tall cabinets stand like bookends to the width of her sizeable Bocote desk. Two sets of dark yellow cushioned chairs linger in front of its massiveness and cater to its dramatic grain pattern. Beyond that sat a small oval table in a cozy corner. It has the same striking zebra-like contrasts in the wood with cushioned black chairs surrounding it. Against a wall, there are glass end tables with antique brass lamps admitting soft light. Between them, a charcoal square sofa on silver legs has a glass coffee table near with a crystal vase of fresh-cut Calla lilies.

Dom has her university degrees on shelves for her bachelor’s in business from Columbia University and two master’s degrees from Northwestern in management and finance, as well as a litany of other accolades for a job well done. Every paper and chair is arranged in an ordered fashion. Often Ben craves to sneak in unnoticed with a bunch of documents and toss them in the air to see what Dom’s reaction will be. It gives him a good chuckle when he’s alone.

“Shut the door, Nettles.”

Ben reluctantly does as instructed. Dom’s office is no cave of horrors like a person may get the impression because of the boss's notorious reputation. No flames of hell are seen, nor does it smell of brimstone. Something sweet hints the air with each new intake of breath. An entirely feminine scent enraptures Ben’s nose that makes him lick his dry lips unconsciously. The worry quells, and his stomach’s activity reduces from the advancing acid reflux he develops.

“You wanted to see me, ma’am?” he inquires in a respectful tone. He tries not to tremble in his shoes.

Ben’s eyes drift to the only occupant in the sophisticated space. His boss stands behind the giant desk with her back to him. She appears to hold some documents she reviews. Dom's ebony hair is pinned in tight coils behind her head as usual which could explain the sour look on her face. No hair stands out of place, not that it ever does.

Her standard uniform consists of tailored mahogany pants suits she wears like a man. Ben never once sees her wear a skirt or dress in the half-year he works at Noble International. Her naked legs have not been bared for his eyes or any other, so the rumor goes. He imagines them to be very nice ones as the woman appears fit.

“Took you long enough,” she states in her cold annoyance over her glasses riding the tip of her nose when she turns to him.

Her creamy tits fill the fitted dress shirt with diamond cufflinks to match the carat studs in her ears. Several buttons are undone and might allow those gorgeous peaks to spill from containment, yet they never do. Dammit! Ben glances at his hands, knowing they’re the right size to play with those enticing globes. His eyes can’t help latching onto them greedily, wondering if gravity will work in his favor just this once in a wardrobe malfunction. Please pop a few more buttons and set them free! The sight of such perky tatas does things to his cock that throbs in his khakis despite all his other misgivings concerning this eye-catching but terrifying woman.

Ben’s hazel eyes lock on her icy blue, and he shivers. Fear? Delight? A mixture, surely, encompasses him since the first day they were introduced. Only Dom can arouse these contrasting emotions where Ben wants to both fuck and flee her. He doesn’t understand her tug on him either. It makes him so ill-at-ease and unsure of himself, whereas he’s never encountered this problem in the past with girls his age. The experience with Dom compares to nothing familiar in that he can’t do the right thing in her presence. It’s like an awkward teenager again unable to control himself or his response to her.

“I-I-I, um, sorry, Ms. Pike,” Ben responds after the clench of his stubbled jaw while bowing his head. His eyes sheepishly meet the floor.

“Sorry is just what you are, you sorry excuse for an intern!” she snaps back at him. “Do you realize the damage you’ve caused today?”

Puzzled, Ben speculates what she means when he dares to glance at her. Dom tosses the portfolio at him she holds. He fumbles it on the way down to the floor but catches it. Scowling as he scans the report cover, Ben discovers the problem in an instant. His heart does a fifty-foot drop. He spells Dom’s name wrong! It’s a grave mistake as in really, really awful. Instead of a “P” for her last name, he switches it to a “D.” Of all the asinine mistakes to make, Ben enters the wrong date as well.

“Fuck!” he groans in embarrassment. He calls his boss a dike! Good Lord help him!

“Yeah, my sentiments exactly.”

Ben gazes at her round face fashioned in displeasure as she stares down the beautiful slope of her pointy nose at him. “I’m fired, huh?”

“What did I tell you last time?” she questions low as her eyes narrow into his.

Ben sighs and lowers his skull in defeat. He could not win, but this time he shoots himself in the foot. “One more screw up, and I’m through here.”

Dom walks from around her desk. He hears the click of her stilettos come closer on the hardwood floors. Ben sees when her red-painted toes enter his vision, and he imagines himself sucking those cute digits. He shakes his head, trying to get that image out of it. The heels raise her height to meet the top of his shoulder when she halts with her red nails on full hips. With each hurried breath, he could smell her. She permeated sweet things like roses and cherries. He licks his dry lips. What would Dom taste like?

“Your only reprieve here is that the presentation goes off without other issues. Overall, Corporate gathers a great deal of humor at my expense, Nettles. An expense I demand compensation for.”

“Wh-what?” he begs as his head rises eagerly at the window of opportunity to make up for his supreme mistake. “I’ll do anything, Ms. Pike! Puh-please don’t fire me. Please?”

Ben needs this internship for not only the grade to finish out his junior year elective requirement. It pays; the only one he interviews for that does out of the five he applies for. To a perpetually broke college student, it means all the difference in the world between eating at Mickey D’s or slamming shots at his favorite pub with his frat brothers.

“Why haven’t you quit?” she inquires while she stares directly through him with those icy blue eyes of hers. He sometimes swears when she looks at him like that she reads his soul and knows what dark things dwell in there. “With your connections, surely you could find another internship somewhere else in the city.”

Ben gazes back in surprise by the question and her knowledge of his connections in Washington, DC. That anger heard earlier vanishes, leaving her voice more breathy than usual, so seductive. His cock throbs more in hunger while taking up any available space in his shorts. Dominating her expression now appears to be curiosity. In him? Why?

Shock filters through his expression. He tries to comprehend that look of hers and the meaning behind her question. Did Dom try to make him quit intentionally? The thought occurs to him prior to now, but he believes that maybe she toys with him. In nightmares, he has been a mouse played with by the big icy blue-eyed pussy.

“I may be many things, but a quitter isn’t one of them,” Ben asserts as firmly as he can. He fights his fear as sweat pours from his head. His undershirt drenches in sweat and may soak through any minute, revealing how she affects him. Hell, she probably already knows!

Dom considers his response and then nods with the surface of the most wicked smile to date. While Ben cringes, his cock pulsates, putting on weight. His khakis grow damned uncomfortable. He requires adjustment soon to give himself room to expand.

“I see.” She glances down he believes at the problem area when she pulls a black business card from her slacks. Dom hands it to him with two slender fingers. Dazed, Ben takes the card she offers. “Meet me here at 7:00 pm tonight. Mention this to no one.”

“Wh-why? Wh-what’s this?” Ben stammers, bewildered by the card that merely says Underground in silver lettering. On the back, there’s a telephone number for someplace in the District of Columbia, he thinks by the 202 area code. He catches Dom reviewing him with an odd, almost predatory look in her icy eyes. Ben swallows in his dry throat.

“Your future hangs in the balance,” Dom says mysteriously, turning from him.

Ben watches the sway of her hips as she heads back to her desk. Ben shudders with a sigh and replies under his breath, “It always does.”

“I would advise calling the number when you’re ready, Nettles. Don’t be late. The opportunity of a lifetime toward your redemption will not be offered again. Breathe a word of this conversation or about the card given to anyone? I will know it, and I will be extremely disappointed.”

He stares dumbly at the black card handed to him. Ben gulps in a dry throat nervously and watches her sit in her giant management chair like a throne. Dom picks up the receiver and makes a call dismissing him clearly in how she ignores his presence altogether. She doesn’t meet his eyes now.

The intern quickly scrambles out of the office with his heart hammering. He glares down at the card, turning it over in his hand. “What the fuck just happened?”

Confusion lines his brow as he seeks the safety of his desk, only to repeat his sigh of relief. Ben knows that he should have been flat-out fired, yet he still works. The opportunity of a lifetime? What does Dom mean by that cryptic statement?

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