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The Woman He Always Noticed

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The thoughts of Anton Capaldi for his secretary of four years are sinful and no amount of windowpanes and binds that separate them can take them away from his head. Not when the mere scent of her is addictive. Even when he has the mouth of other women wrapped around his girth, he thinks of them as the woman steps away from his office–her hazel eyes rolling back to her head as he fucks her full red lips, her dark hair under the assault of his hands so much that he can yank strands of it off and her moan of pain mix with pleasure will sound like music to his ears. These are just thoughts he knows he can’t act upon. Not only because of his own principles of not mixing business with work but because the woman in question doesn’t seem smitten with him like every other woman his come across. She is dedicated to her work, her poise is practiced and precise and he never really knows what she’s thinking. Things change one day when Anton found his secretary, drunk as a skunk at a bar where he lounges at and meets with important investors of his business. Anton helps her out of the bar but it felt like she didn’t want to be helped. Maybe it was her drunk state or Anton simply saw it as a chance to take advantage of her or it was all just in his head, his secretary asks him to sleep with her at least once. What does Anton do?

Romance / Erotica
Age Rating:

1. Thoughts of sin


She’s wearing that skirt again.

The one she wears on mondays. That high waist one that clings to her like a second skin—effortlessly accentuating the curve of her hips and the small of her waist.

Don’t even get me started on the slit of the skirt that rides up to the inner parts of her legs leaving everything else that’s in there to one’s imagination—my imagination.

And God…I’ve imagined too much.

How those long creamy legs that seem to go on for miles would feel—wrapped around me.

How her waist would dip in when I press my hands hard on it as I take her from behind.

How her ass that jiggles with every sway of her hips would go red from my own skin slapping on it as I fuck her into oblivion.

Sometimes I wonder, does she notice my heated gaze every time she’s in the same room with me to tell me about my schedule?

Does she notice how I just sit in my office–pretending to be working when in truth all I do is watch her from across the room where we are both separated by glass doors and windows?

Just like I am doing right now.

And that’s why I see her when she stands and begins to make her way towards the door that separates us. I shift in my seat to adjust the glaring hard-on growing in my pants just as she walks in with a bright smile on her face.

“Good morning sir...your schedule for the day.” She begins to say but I can’t hear her anymore just like every time because I’m reminded of what we are to each other.

To Carla, I’ll always be her boss.

It’s what I’ve been to her for the past four years. No matter how sinful my thoughts towards her are, they are just that—thoughts…ones I can never act upon because of our relationship as a boss and a dutiful secretary.

Carla is saying something again but I’m not listening. Her lips are moving but the words that come out of them aren’t what’s got my attention. I pretend to be listening with my back laid to rest in my chair, my fingers tapping away on the table out of habit, legs crossed and eyes shifting focus every few seconds.

Shifting focus between her small yet full red lips to her creamy white neck left exposed by the beige shirt she is wearing. The top two buttons are popped out…leaving out a small hint of cleavage that seems to tease a more alluring view than the one I’m looking at.

Where have I seen that shirt?

It takes the colorful rose patterns on the right side—right on her breast, for my brain to pick up on where I’ve seen the shirt before.

Melanie wore it once…and it was just yesterday when she was at my office.

Melanie is one of my many friends—the ones with benefits.

I’m the typical CEO who’s always too busy to date but of course, has the all the time in the world to let a woman wrap her mouth around me in my office.

If Carla judges me for my waywardness, she never shows it. All her face sports everyday is that gummy smile even as she shows a different woman into my office almost everyday.

“Leave your shirt on…it’s pretty. I want to look at the flowers move when I fuck you.”

I remember saying to Melanie yesterday.

The rose flowers on the shirt almost seemed like they were alive as Melanie’s breast jiggled in them. It’s why I’m able to remember the shirt…because of the pretty flowers on it.

But fuck…if that sexy piece of clothing doesn’t look better on Carla.

Now all I can see is Carla in place of Melanie. All I can imagine is her being the one shuddering hard from a mind-blowing orgasm. All I can imagine is Carla’s mouth taking my whole length in, in place of Melanie.

Not like I didn’t imagine the same thing yesterday too.

Even as Melanie had her mouth wrapped around me yesterday, taking me with the skills of a seductress, taking me back and forth from the ninth cloud, I didn’t see her.

Behind my closed eyes, I saw Carla. In my messed up mind, it was Carla taking me.

Pathetic ehh?

A woman was doing her best to drive me crazy yesterday while my mind was far gone…to another woman who was outside my office—separated by the glass and the blinds to cover my indecency. She was out there, typing away furiously on her keyboard. Being the fucking good secretary that she’s always been.

It’s why she’s in front of me right now—as the dutiful secretary she is, reading from her iPad, looking up from it occasionally to hold my gaze as she rambled my schedule to me like she does daily. It’s become robotic to me.

Her voice. Her movements. Even the slightest blink of her eyes.

They’re practiced and precise. It’s the kind of thing you expect from someone who has been at it for years. It’s the kind of thing I expected and wanted when I hired her—a secretary who does as she’s asked, no questions asked.

But I don’t think I want that anymore. It now sickens me.

I now itch to hear more than the usual “good morning sir” or the occasional “yes sir” when I ask questions.

I now itch to hear something other than me having to be at a certain meeting at a particular time. I badly want to hear other things than the time and place I’m meant to eat my lunch.

And maybe that’s why I break…and totally snap.

“You look…different today.”

The words are out before I can salvage them but I don’t regret them because they shut her up and make her tear her eyes away from the iPad and the rest of my boring Schedule.

Her big Amber eyes holds confusion at my words. I’m drawn to how they swirl in the ocean of their own creation, almost making me lose more concentration then I already have.

Carla is quiet for a while. I sense the discomfort before I see it in her eyes. She’s probably thinking of the best way to reply me since she has never practiced a response to those particular words like she has for every other words I’ve said to her.

Since I’ve never said such to her before.

“If you would kindly explain how sir. Did I do something wrong?”

She asks.

How do I tell my secretary she let her hair down today when it’s usually up—tied in a tight bun with curly strands of the golden locks falling by the sides of her face and that she looks great with it falling over her shoulders right now—without sounding like I’ve been watching her for too long?

How do I tell her that smoky makeup on her face looks freaking hotter on her compared to when Melanie had it on her own face yesterday and all other days beyond that—without sounding like a creep?

She put in effort into perfecting her makeup today. I can tell.

I can tell how much work she put into it as if trying impress someone. For a split second,I let my mind spiral through how much I hate that thought.

But I still let it wonder,who did she try so much to impress today?

Maybe that lanky guy from the production department she’s getting cozy with. I’ve seen him hang around her like a jobless prick.

If he isn’t careful, he might really end up jobless.

I’ve seen him say things I couldn’t hear but that made Carla laugh and turn red. I’ve seen him wait for her at the lobby and then walk out of the company’s building with her every day after work. I’ve watched them both pass knowing glances from across the meeting room–her standing dutifully beside me.

I lose concentration whenever that happens and totally zone out on whatever presentation required my presence at a meeting.

What does he say to make her laugh like that? Does she prefer guys with good sense of humor?

Is it his hair? Does Carla prefer blondes? Is it money? I’m the CEO of a multimillionaire Company!

Is he her perfect definition of a good man?

I know I am anything but good. She shows a new woman into my office everyday and that’s enough to keep her far away from me.

What makes the production department guy good for her anyway?

Does he know her like I do?

Does he know she likes her coffee cold? No sugar but plenty of milk.

Does he know she picks out onions inside of her cheeseburgers and sandwiches before eating them? Even in public and on lunch meetings with me, she never shies away from taking them out.

Does he know she chews the insides of her mouth,enough for me to see her tongue push out her cheeks, when she’s focusing hard on something?

Heck! Does he know she’s allergic to peaches? Even though I found out by chance when she refused to eat a peach pie at a lunch meeting hosted by a famous chef. I made sure to check for peaches ever since then. It became an habit to say “nothing that includes peaches.” whenever we’re asked to place an order.

The questions go on and on, almost reaching the point of insanity for me.

All of it.

I know it all. Yet it means nothing that I know them.

She’s right there in front of me but no distance has ever felt this long between two people.


The soft stiletto of her voice pulls me out of my thoughts. She’s patiently waiting for me to say something, eyes unblinking and focused intently on me.

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