Aim to Please (wlw)

prologue. the dream

"What are you still doing here?"

Ms. Montague's stern voice startled me. I looked up from my tablet and grimaced. The soft lamp light from the office behind her framed her figure in an angelic, wondrous way. Her shirt was partially unbuttoned and tucked erratically into her trousers. She blinked a few times and moved one of her hands in a 'speak up' motion.

With a shrug, I picked up my frigid and forgotten coffee. "Just looking over everything. Double-checking."

"You've already double-checked everything, Miss Williams."

I chuckled. "Triple-checking, then."

"Go home, Mackenzie."

Hearing my first name exit her lips sent a thrill through my body. Laurie was talking to me, not Ms. Montague. I bit my lip to contain a salacious smile and leaned forward to rest my chin on my hand.

"My position is on-call, Laurie. If you don't leave this office, neither will I."

She approached me slowly, like a tigress preparing to attack. A glass of wine seemed to have apparated into her hand, which she then carefully sat on the edge of a desk as she passed. Her steps held purpose, confidence; and the sway of her hips in that pantsuit caused a heart to rise within me. Ms. Montague stopped right in front of me, close enough to smell the tantalizing nectar and oud of her perfume.

The short, rounded nail of her forefinger tickled my chin as she lifted my head up to look at her. "Mon cheri, it is time for you to go."

"Well—" I squeaked. Her attentive, steely eyes felt like they were searching my soul. I cleared my throat.

Her gentle pointer finger was replaced with a fierce grip on my chin. As a whole, the term 'devilish grin' always alluded my understanding. But the upturn of Laurie's lips paired with the cock of her eyebrow— it could only be described as devilish. She made a soft tsk sound before leaning down.

Self-control was something I took pride in. Even-faced, emotionless reactions. Poised and professional. Never had it been tested, however, as much as when I felt her breath against my ear. My eyes rolled back and I sank into my chair, craving any amount of distance away from her intoxicating scent.

"I said go home, Mackenzie," she murmured softly into the conch of my ear.

"Or what, Miss? What will you do?" I whispered softly, stubbornly, into her ear. I heard a soft sound— a pleasant intake of breath, an exhale that sounded like the beginning of a moan.

Ms. Montague sucked her teeth and straightened up. "Alright then, have it your way."

"Well, no," I began, pouting. My arms crossed and I looked at her over my glasses. "What would you do, Miss? Punish me?"

"Mackenzie," she warned.

"Laurie," I taunted.

The woman before me rolled her shoulders and neck, sighing with exasperation. She turned and strutted back to her office. Her fingers were fidgeting against her outer thighs, a reaction of intrigue. The door closed with a heavy, final slam.

She forgot her wine. How tragic.

I let out a tremendous, shaky sigh and stood, mustering every ounce of fake confidence I could. Wine glass in hand, I slowly approached Ms. Montague's office.

Knock, knock, knock.

Silence. An aura of unease settled over me and I stepped back, ready to put the glass down.

"Come in."

My hand trembled as I reached for the doorknob. I swallowed hard, clearing the choking anxiety built around my uvula. After a deep breath, I opened the door and took in the city glow paired with lamplight.

Air rushed out of my lungs, sputtering from between lips. The wine glass in my hand fell to the parquet floor. On the settee to the left was Laurie, face flushed, shirt fully unbuttoned and untucked. Her bra was visible—a navy blue lace number that complimented her skin tone.

"L–Laurie?" I called out.

Her breathing was rough and choppy. She opened her eyes and I saw they were glassy, glazed with the heat in her body. Right as I opened my mouth to ask her if she was okay, she spoke.

"Mackenzie. Go home," she rasped out.

A shiver twitched its way down my spine. "No."

My breathing stilled as I watched her slim hand dip below the waistband of her slacks. A sinful dance began at her core and the smell of arousal slowly took over my senses.

"You have 3 options, mon cheri," my boss began, panting slightly.

I gulped and nodded, unable to break my eyes away from the spectacle.

"One: you come here and do what I ask. Two: you stand there gawking while I take care of myself. Or three: leave."

Autopilot engaged as saliva flooded my mouth. My body lurched forward until I was between her legs. She gave me a smirk and my whole world went up in flames— my knees gave out. I was kneeling at my supervisor's feet, staring up at her in awe.

My hand, with a mind of its own, reached out and undid the button of her trousers. Her hips undulated and she hissed. Thoughts of pleasing her, of receiving praise from her, took over my sentience.

"Tell me what you want me to do to you, Ms. Montague."

BEEP. BEEEP. BEEP.

The morning sun assaulted my eyes as they flew open. I flailed around until I was able to paw my phone into my hands. It's 9 already? I'm late! 

An incessant buzzing blared from my entryway. Someone was constantly pressing the call button in an attempt to get my attention. Looking through my notifications quickly, I saw a few missed calls....and a lot of texts. All from Ms. Montague. The final one read:

I'm worried, mon cheri. I'm on my way.

"Fuck," I groaned.