Chapter 3

Charlie

Tears streamed down my face as I woke up, haunted once again by those torturous dreams that had plagued me for four long months. In those dreams, I encountered the perfect man, who provided me with unparalleled pleasure in the most extraordinary locations. But just like clockwork, it always had to end. Determined to shake off the lingering emotions, I hurriedly got out of bed and made my way to the bathroom. I turned on the shower, allowing the warm water to cascade over me, easing the tension in my shoulders. Perhaps it was time to consider seeing a therapist? Could it be that my mind had conjured up this dominant figure to compensate for my lackluster sex life? These thoughts swirled in my mind as I rinsed the shampoo from my hair, desperately trying to compose myself.

After my recent breakup, I had embarked on a journey of sexual exploration, discovering my submissive nature and embracing my bratty tendencies. However, none of the Dominants I had encountered thus far had truly captivated me. It felt as though everything I craved was just out of reach, mirroring the frustration in my dreams. Why was it so challenging to find someone who could rein in my bratty behavior and take control? Was it too much to ask? Lost in these melancholic ruminations, I finished rinsing off and resolved to pull myself together. Today was the most important interview of my life, and I couldn't afford to let depression and thoughts of my sex life distract me. I needed to impress and leave a lasting impression.

It had been six long months since I graduated, and finding a job that truly appreciated my designs proved to be an uphill battle. Either the interviewers failed to grasp the depth of my creations, or their fragile egos were threatened by a woman with superior knowledge. However, Appletree Engineering and Architecture seemed like the perfect fit for my eco-friendly designs. Although my fully self-sufficient home remained a mere concept, I believed that once technology caught up, Appletree would provide the ideal platform to make my ideas marketable. I just needed to convince them of the potential behind my designs, even if it meant waiting for the right moment.

Fully dressed in my navy-blue power suit—a pencil skirt with a flared bottom, a fitted jacket accentuating my curves, and a pale pink blouse—I felt empowered and ready to conquer my interview. Completing the ensemble with nude heels and a beautiful leather portfolio/laptop bag gifted by my mother, I exuded confidence as I prepared a to-go mug of coffee. With ample time to spare, I left for the subway, my mind buzzing with anticipation.

As I arrived at the towering skyscraper housing Appletree's headquarters, a mix of excitement and certainty flooded my being. Eagerly, I stepped into the lobby, walking with purpose toward the receptionist's desk. My posture was straight, and a genuine smile graced my lips as I introduced myself.

"Good morning. I'm Charlie Phillips, and I have a 10 am appointment with Mr. Daniel Summer."

My optimism wavered as I received a scowl from the receptionist, casting doubt on the smoothness of my appointment.

Concerned that I might have received the wrong date or time or that my classmates had played a prank on me, I inquired further.

Their laughter at my design ideas during college had ceased once I topped the class rankings and won the Stephenson Grant for Inspiring Designs. With the prize money, I had enough funds to support myself while navigating the challenging path of securing a job.

Of course, paying off my debts was a priority, but I estimated I had approximately six months left before I would be forced to move back in with my mother—a prospect I wished to avoid. She had sacrificed so much for me, single-handedly raising me while my father remained absent from my life since infancy. Although my mother never spoke ill of him, it was hard not to harbor resentment toward the man who abandoned his responsibilities. Deep down, I knew my mother had never truly moved on; she often confessed that he was the love of her life. This only fueled my disdain for him, making his absence all the more painful.

Lost in my thoughts, I was jolted back to reality by the receptionist's contemptuous scoff.

"I highly doubt you'll be meeting with Mr. Summer. He's notoriously private, and—" Her words trailed off abruptly, her mouth agape. Her expression morphed into one of sheer malice as she narrowed her eyes and sneered at me.

"How did you manage to secure a meeting with Mr. Summer?" Her voice took on a near-screeching quality as she scrutinized me from head to toe, her disdain palpable.

"I... I don't know. I wasn't the one who requested this interview. I was contacted by Mr. Summer's executive assistant, Ms. Michaels," I replied, puzzled by her hostile attitude.

"Take the elevator on the far right to the fiftieth floor. The secretary there will escort you to Mr. Summer's office," she retorted, her tone laced with bitterness.

With a curt smile in response, I placed my phone back in my bag, resolving to make the best of this situation. Stepping into the elevator, I took a moment to center myself, practicing deep breaths to regain my composure. My face relaxed into a confident smile as the doors opened swiftly on the fiftieth floor. Confirming that I had reached the correct destination, I ventured forward, greeted by the sight of a stunning secretary.

Thankfully, this secretary appeared more approachable than her downstairs counterpart. As I approached her desk, she wore an apologetic smile, gesturing toward a headset.

"I understand that you wish to speak with Mr. Summer's office, but he's currently in a meeting. I can connect you with his assistant instead," she explained, a hint of worry creeping into her expression.

"Yes, I know... Alright, I'll transfer you to his assistant now... No, the other Mr. Summer isn't available either... Yes, sir, I'm transferring you now. Sorry about that," she sighed, turning her attention back to me.

"Nightmare client who calls every day, expecting to speak directly to the CEO or CFO. As if they have nothing better to do, right?" She giggled, and I found myself warming up to her. Her warm and welcoming demeanor was a refreshing change.

"I completely understand. I'm a little early for my appointment. My name is Charlie Phillips, and I have a meeting with Mr. Daniel Summer at ten," I informed her, offering a friendly smile.

To my surprise, her eyes widened. "Oh, I'm sorry. When I saw the name 'Charlie' on the schedule, I assumed you were a man here for one of the assistant positions." She appeared slightly uncomfortable, removing her headset.

"I'm afraid I'll need to see some identification before I can escort you to Mr. Summer's office. It's a security protocol," she explained, her hands fidgeting nervously.

"That's perfectly fine," I reassured her, maintaining my bright smile as I retrieved my wallet and ID.

"Could you take it out, please? I need to verify its authenticity," she requested, an apologetic tone coloring her words.

"Not a problem," I replied, removing the ID from its plastic sleeve. As I handed it to her, our fingers touched briefly, and I felt a subtle spark. For a fleeting moment, I wondered if she might be interested in women, but I dismissed the thought, reminding myself that now was not the time to contemplate my love life.

She returned the ID to me, her hand brushing mine as she passed by, igniting a flicker of curiosity. Was she flirting with me? I pondered, deciding to give her my number on my way out.

"This way, please," the tall, willowy woman—whom I presumed to be Ms. Michaels—guided me through the door she had emerged from earlier. She led me down a hallway, passing by several conference rooms, until we arrived at another reception area adorned with glass cases displaying architectural models. The models, illuminated from above, covered an entire wall, captivating my attention. I yearned to examine them more closely, but my focus shifted as I followed the graceful secretary. She halted abruptly as an exceptionally tall woman with sharp features emerged from behind a door.

"Ms. Michaels, this is Charlie Phillips, Mr. Summer's 10 am appointment... and this is where I leave you," the charming secretary said, smiling warmly at me.

"Thank you, um..." I realized with a tinge of embarrassment that I hadn't asked for her name.