CHAPTER 11
Hollis Page enjoyed her job as executive secretary for Foster Prentice, Orchard Park’s city planner.
Why shouldn’t she?
At eighteen, she had landed the cushiest job in the city. Her duties were light, and she was obsessed with Foster. He was a perfect man in every way. Being in the same room with him was like being in the presence of a god.
Hollis had natural ash-blonde hair that was cut in a long bob and then usually curled into loose ringlets. She had pale, creamy skin and liked to wear deep red lipstick because it stood out so much against her pallor.
Her eyes were a light blue-grey, and other than the lipstick, she didn’t wear any makeup because she didn’t need it. She wasn’t so much beautiful as she was intriguing, and many men stared at her for hours, caught in a spell that she didn’t realize she was casting.
Foster saw her charm immediately and hired her on the spot.
Hollis didn’t have the qualifications to be an executive secretary, but Foster Prentice didn’t require much from her; everything was computerized now. But her position was in the budget, and Foster liked her company.
He took her out to lunch for pleasant conversation, bought her gifts, even helped her decorate her apartment. He did have a degree in architecture.
Hollis listened to everything Foster said, hung on every word.
One day, in his office, he told Hollis about his lack of interest in his marriage.
“You have your whole life ahead of you, Hollis. I think I’m stuck in a rut with my marriage. I don’t love Aubrey anymore. Any thoughts?”
Hollis’s heart fluttered. He had never spoken so directly about his marriage before. Not like this. Not with that soft, reflective tone that made her feel that he trusted her more than anyone else in the world.
She tried to look intelligent, wise beyond her years, but that wasn’t what Foster was looking for.
“Well…” she began, trying to sound wise, adult, something other than the starstruck girl she was. “I guess people grow apart. And you deserve to be happy, Mr. Prentice.”
“Call me Foster,” he murmured. “When we’re alone. No other time.”
He had to be sure she was aware of the rules.
“Okay, Foster.”
He smiled at her, thoughtfully. “I appreciate you, Hollis. It’s nice that you understand me.”
Foster stood and walked to the window, looking out as if something on the horizon was inspiring him. “Aubrey and I barely talk anymore. And when we do, it’s about her patients, or her research, or whatever she thinks I should be doing differently.” He sighed. “She stopped seeing me as a man a long time ago.”
“I can see you. And I’m right here.”
He turned to face her.
“I know you do,” he said quietly.
Foster turned back to face Hollis. He walked around the desk and sat on the edge. He was close enough for Hollis to smell his cologne. He smelled wonderful, manly, and he had such nice wool suits. “How refined he is,” she thought.
“Tell me, Hollis,” he said. “If you were my wife, would you ignore me?”
Hollis stopped breathing for a moment. She panicked. This was really happening.
Foster sat in the chair beside her and put his index finger to her lips. “Shhh…”
“I hope you wouldn’t ignore me as my wife does.”
“No,” she whispered. “Never.”
Foster smiled again; this time with the satisfaction of a Cheshire cat.
“Good,” he said. “It’s nice to be understood.”
He reached out and touched her cheek. Running his finger down to her jawline.
Hollis realized this was no accident, brushing up against her when she bent down to get a file in a tight space. This was deliberate seduction.
It would be her choice to allow Foster to take advantage of the situation. And Hollis was ready for it to happen.
She stood up, waiting to be kissed. Instead, Foster led her to the leather sofa in his office and locked the door.
This was how their afternoon tickling sessions began. And it would always start the same way. He would talk about his wife, and soon she would find herself lying on Foster’s leather sofa in the afternoons with him sitting next to her, leaning over her, and tickling her lightly on the stomach.
Weird, yes. Hollis wanted it to go further, but it never did. He didn’t want to kiss her or hold her, just run his hands over her body. It was so flattering. A man so beautiful who only wanted the experience of touching another human being.
Hollis felt so much compassion for Foster; he would never cheat on his wife, even if he were the loneliest man on the planet. It was the least she could do to accommodate him while enjoying herself, too.
At first, Foster was playful during their tickling sessions. Over time, he became slow and methodical, more like he was exploring her body. Soon, he was taking her clothes off, delicately, as if he were unwrapping a beautiful gift and didn’t want to tear the paper.
He was so gentle and caring.
“Who’s my darling angel?” he would say.
“I am,” she would reply, getting lost in his incredible brown eyes.
Foster would start the tickling sessions by slowly pulling her blouse out of the waistband of her skirt and then unbuttoning it, eventually exposing the push-up bra that held her young and milky-white breasts in place. He would lightly run his fingers over her torso. This would make Hollis giggle like a schoolgirl; Foster liked that.
She would arch her back so that he could unzip her skirt and slide it off. Hollis would have already kicked off her shoes; so there she was lying in her bra and panties, still casually wearing her silk blouse, wide-open and loose around her shoulders.
Foster’s hands were smooth against Hollis’s delicate skin. He had manicured nails, of all things!
It made her feel more feminine to be treated with such care, and also like the darling angel he wanted her to be.
After he gazed on her for a few moments in her state of undress, Foster would unhook Hollis’s bra and fondle her nipples. By now, the hot space between her thighs would be getting wet. This wetness was due to more than just Foster’s fingers circling her breasts. Hollis was lost in the thrill of being with an older man who was her boss, and getting caught in the office in the middle of the deed.
She loved the leather couch and the smell of Foster’s cologne. Foster was an attractive man and had a great body; Hollis sometimes got aroused just by looking at him. And the way he was so gentle with her and took his time sent her over the edge. Every afternoon they fooled around was a turn-on.
As his hands moved down her abdomen, she would giggle a little more, and Foster would give her a warm half-smile.
When he got to the top of her briefs, he would run his finger across the top of the band, going back and forth with his finger. At this point, Hollis would squirm with anticipation, desperately wanting to feel Foster’s manicured fingers between her upper thighs.
But going slow was part of the game they played together.
Once, Hollis had reached down to guide Foster’s fingers into her pussy where she wanted to be touched so badly, but Foster took her hand and put it firmly back at her side. He put his finger to his lips and shook his head no. After that, he went back to running his fingers back and forth across the top of her briefs for what seemed like an hour, never giving her the release she so desperately wanted to feel.
He had her stripped down to her underwear one day, when he slipped his hand into her briefs. This was when he started fingering her.
Hollis was shocked at first; an electric charge went through her body. But Foster used his other hand to reassure her that this was natural. He made comforting shushing sounds and relaxed Hollis into a kind of trance.
And since she had already submitted to the tickling, letting Foster finger-fuck her seemed like the next logical step.
It wasn’t like she was sleeping with him, she told herself.
Besides, Foster knew just how to stroke and caress Hollis everywhere she wanted to be touched without making her feel ashamed or embarrassed.
When he was ready, Foster would ease his middle finger into her slit.
Hollis always gasped a little when he finally made direct contact.
Foster would watch her reactions as he fondled her.
Hollis would notice Foster’s huge erection. The one that he got every session, when he played around with her, but she didn’t dare mention it or try to do anything about it.
Foster seemed purely interested in what made Hollis feel satisfied as a female.
So if she liked something, she sighed contentedly, and if she didn’t, she’d lie still.
Between her and Foster, they had developed quite a system for her enjoyment. Things got faster; the time it took her to climax was getting shorter. Foster had to come up with something else, or their afternoon sessions would become perfunctory.
One day, he pulled a riding crop out of his desk drawer. Hollis was panicky at first, but Foster’s devious smile relaxed her as it always did. So Foster incorporated light taps with the pony whip into their afternoon sessions, which revived the whole thing and made it a new game of pleasure and pain.
But there were some things that never changed. When Foster was finished, he would put his pocket square on the chair beside the couch and leave the room for her to clean herself. He locked the door behind him to give her privacy, but never said a word about it before or after their sessions.
Hollis was growing tired of the whole situation. She wanted more. She wanted conventional sex with Foster, and some cuddling and talking afterwards. She knew he would never leave his wife, and she would never ask him to.
But an after-work affair in a high-end motel would be so nice. A fantasy, even. Having an affair with your boss, risking getting caught. Cherishing a love that could never be out in public.
Now, that was a fantasy.
This digital manipulation was getting old.
Hollis wanted a boyfriend. She yearned for that touch from a man whom she could touch back. Someone she could go to dinner with, even if it was an out-of-the-way restaurant where they might get caught sneaking around.
Where was that guy?
Hollis didn’t know. She was out of high school, so meeting men was almost impossible. She had gone to the dating apps a few times, swiped left and right, but she didn’t feel comfortable going out with someone who might be making the whole thing up.
Or some guy who asked for money.
But that man, the man who wanted to take her and did, forcefully and wholly, had to be out there. Hollis even thought about buying a vibrator, but she still lived with her parents and would be too embarrassed if her mother found it.
Anything had to be better than a man who manipulated her to orgasm and then went to the executive bathroom to jerk himself off.
Hollis might have to lower her standards, but that was okay.
At this point, any port in the storm.