Chapter Six

I'm already here and I won't let myself give in. I hear footsteps and adjust my posture, remembering that it affects every first impression. The doorknob shakes and I feel ready for what comes next. No, I don't. What I see is the tall, masculine silhouette a few inches away, his hand calmly holding the door, his gestures youthful yet professional. A black suit completes his outfit, and shoes that probably cost twice as much as my own. I raise my eyes in curiosity and am met with a handsome face, masculine features outline his thin cheek, the thin shape of his face yet marked, his nose aquiline and charming at the same time, and his blue eyes were as crystal clear as an illusion, his beard is done, his hair is black with strands combed back and partially wet from some masculine cosmetic, the man seemed to exude the vivid New York charm, but there was the elegance that any man with money pays for.

"Miss Schwartz!" His voice is deep and masculine, but it sounds like the voice of a person used to public speaking, communicative by nature. "Please come in." The door opens wider and his body moves to the side, inviting.

"Mr. Moser..." I greet him with a certain curiosity as I enter the office. Notes of a strong, intensely masculine perfume penetrate my nostrils. It is an attractive scent, but it becomes cloying with time.

The room is unnecessarily large, modernity hovers in the middle of the architecture, there are black leather chairs, a wide white table for possible meetings, a television that frightens me with its size, derivative decorations without any personality, as if everything were planned and empty. I look at it with surprise and sometimes look away from this man, so perfectly formed. They say that the place where you work or live is a reflection of who you are, but in this case, the statement has never made so much sense.

I hear the sound of the door closing and find myself alone with a man of exuberant wealth as well as appearance.

"Do you like it?" The voice is calm and when I look at its owner, a smile curls his lips. "Have a seat, please." I arch my eyebrow and take one last look at the corners of the office before following his request. I spot the office desk in the back in front of the tall floor-to-ceiling windows, there is a computer, papers, files, and pens, all neatly matching the rest of the place. Could it be that he was the one who organized all this? I want to laugh, but I bite my lower lip as the obvious answer burns on the tip of my tongue. It was more likely that someone else was doing it for him. I take a deep breath and avoid shrugging, a mania that could cost me a fine for lack of manners.

"There is what is necessary...for you," I offer my words seriously, even if they contain barbs. I sit down in front of his desk, my purse in my lap. I follow the man's silhouette from the corner of my eye as he walks to his seat, the table between us. He pushes his chair away and sits thoughtfully, his fingers casually unbuttoning his jacket, his muscles visible under the fabric of his shirt. I swallow hard and raise my eyes to his face. I blink in surprise when I realize he is looking right at me, his blue irises glinting at me with a comical sparkle. His hands are clasped on his chin, a smile etched on his face. I mentally curse myself for getting caught, but he doesn't seem to want to talk about it, which I tell myself is better, it was like a silent game that neither of us wanted to talk about.

"What exactly do I need, Ms. Schwartz?" He asks me with a feigned innocence that holds me, hostage, at this moment. I adjust my posture, my hands clasped in my lap, making them the haven of my anxiety.

"As it turns out, the constant reminder of who you are, I'm not judging you, Mr. Moser." I judge him. His laugh echoes through the room, perfectly audible and masculine. Everything about him is calculated, he is attractive and yet predictable. Part of me rejects everything he presents, but my femininity is drawn to his charm and masculinity.

"Isn't that what everyone wants deep down?" His question sounds more like a statement, I understand his belief and smile to keep from laughing. He believes that everyone has time to think about and fulfill such a petty desire.

"If they had the same reputation..." I shrug, shrug. "Perhaps, but I think it is a luxury reserved for men like you." He doesn't look that moved, but something in his face changes, I don't know what.

"And what do you want?"

This question was unexpected. There doesn't seem to be enough air in my lungs, so I have to take as many gasping breaths as I can to fill them. My mind takes me to a new setting, red lights, the hard wall against my back, and the masculine and addictive scent filling the room. "What do you want?" "I want..." "Say it." "I want it all." The words echo in my ear, mine high and deep, his low and husky, the whisper laden with excitement and dominance. His rough hands roam hungrily over my skin, searching, hunting, desperate, desperate. I am desperate too, pleasure pulsating in my groin as the gray-haired man strokes me with his beard, his nose sliding across my cheek, our faces facing each other as equals, as he leans in to gain access to me ... his lips parted, whispering incoherently to me ...

I hear a third breath and the memory disappears, leaving me with physical and emotional effects. I feel my knees pressed together, the wetness in my panties making me sigh softly as I realize the icy liquid that this scene has produced. I want to... I focus my gaze on the man's face, his hair too dark with insignificant white hairs that I can count on my fingers, his nonexistent beard, his eyes as blue as the color of the sky I already see every day. He seems to be watching me, his gaze intense, his body leaning against the chair like a spectator of this thought. I settle back into my seat, the thought that he might have witnessed the onslaught of my filthy mind testing my sanity. I curse the man again from the night before, cursing him like this: giving him anger, shame, and a completely soaked panty as a witness to my hatred. I pull myself together, even though this look makes me uneasy. Before I could say a word, he came closer, leaning his elbows on the table.

"Moser is going through a few redesigns to reach different audiences and thus increase profits and popularity. The marketing team is working on the site's attractions, but my main concern now would be commercial strategies, partnerships, events, festivals, and everything within my reach. His look is idealistic as if the subject at hand gives him a healthy glow. He looks at me as if suddenly reminded of my existence. "Since you are now part of the assistance section along with others, it is important to know the focus of your contributions from now on. We will have direct contact via email and weekly meetings with the other sectors to discuss issues".

I nod, feeling better situated, less lost, after what he said.

"I'll do my best, Mr. Moser."

"Then we won't have any problems." His smile reassures me, even if it is too bright. "You are released."

I thank him in a low voice and stand up. I walk toward the exit door, my eyes fixed on my destination, feeling less nervous, even though the size of this man and his office makes me feel intimidated. I make a mental list of my next actions, remembering to mark the email from the man in question and Emily as "priorities".

"Miss Dakota?" I turn at the call of my name, the intense, light voice pulling me in at the same moment. I see him behind his desk, arms crossed in an erect and firm posture, the fabric of his jacket stretched by the muscles in his frame. I see his seemingly carefree face from afar, but something in his eyes burns with a secret promise. "Consider me a man of self-control, for by a thread I thought I might cease to be."