Dominating the Boss - 11

The next few days after my small trip with Brenda passed normally, at least, as normal as it could be under the charged circumstances where I had been banging both my boss and her secretary. I had met with Natalie often for work-related meetings, but in those, I was careful in not pushing her about the intimacy we had shared during our business trip. I didn’t want her to regain her balance, but the possibility of her breaking under stress was even worse, so I gave her some space regardless. It was hard work to maintain the delicate balance we had managed to set, a wrong push risked to destroy everything I had managed to establish.

Of course, not banging Natalie hadn’t meant that my days had been boring. Brenda had visited my office with surprising regularity to bring some ‘special files’, allowing us to hold some detailed ‘audits’ on certain assets, discussing ways to ‘penetrate’ foreign markets. Surprisingly, half of the time, it was Brenda that initiated them. Those activities left both of us panting and wheezing. Luckily, Natalie let Brenda act freely, hoping that she would be able to worm herself into my confidence, spying for Natalie, unaware that Brenda had converted into the fruitful job of being a double-agent for a long while.

I was lazing around in my room in a late afternoon, trying to get my breath after another visit from Brenda where we discussed ‘operational challenges’ in great detail, when a knock on the door distracted me from my rest. “Come in,” I said, fearing that it was Brenda, changing her mind about having another session. After the last session, I needed at least an hour before I was ready for the next one. But then, the door opened, revealing a slimy-looking guy on the other side of the door. Mike, I managed to identify, one of the sales supervisors that worked on the second floor, and more importantly, a member of my new team after the latest reshuffle. 

“Can I come in, Mr. Smith,” said Mike. His face was contorted with stress despite his best effort to keep his expression pleasant. The reason was simple. He was one of the guys with high ambition, and he had been doing his best to get promoted to a managerial position, namely, the position I was currently holding… 

For him, missing the promotion opportunity was just one part of his problem. The other, and the more important, part of the problem was entirely self-inflicted. As a rat, he decided that the best way to increase his profile was to pick a victim in the office, and gain visibility in the company through humiliating that target, simultaneously showing everyone the depth of his information, and his abilities to force his subordinates harder and longer with fear. 

A pitiful strategy, but the inaccuracy of his conceptual understanding of management wasn’t the biggest reason. Unfortunately, he had proved that he didn’t have the intelligence to match his ambition by choosing me as his target, ignoring the complications that had put me in my position. He happily insulted me whenever I passed near his desk, a proud expression on his slimy face like he had achieved something impressive. Then, I got promoted, and his smug jabs had been quickly replaced with over-the-top bootlicking, like that would be enough to make me forget all the insults he had thrown to my side. 

“Yes,” I said even I turned my gaze back to my monitor, not bothering to speak another word. I still watched him from the corner of my eye, enough to catch his face contorting with anger against my dismissal, but he lacked the spine to make it an issue. 

“We’re going to have a small after-work gathering as the sales team in my house, barbecue, and maybe a couple cans of beer to chase it down…” At that point, he stopped expectantly, hoping that I would pick up his invitation, but I continued working, my eyes on the screen. “I thought maybe you would like to drop by?” he added, his tone hitching desperately. 

I opened my mouth to reject his offer in a rather humiliating manner, but then I remembered that a few weeks ago, a sexy redhead, significantly younger than him, had picked him up when his car was broken, a mechanical malfunction that the whole office learned due to his constant bitching. That sexy redhead was his wife, I had learned when I overheard the discussion of two security guards as they shared their crass opinions about the best way to treat such a voluptuous young woman. “Sure, just email me your address, and I’ll be there,” I said. 

“I’m glad, sir. We’ll start around eight,” he said happily, though I doubted he would be as happy if he knew the only reason I was coming was to use the opportunity to hit on his wife. And her beauty wasn’t the only reason I wanted to be there as well. No, I wanted to hit on her in front of Mike. I didn’t know what would be more unbearable for him, pissing off his wife, or his boss, and I couldn’t wait to find out. I could just imagine the torture he would feel under a threat against his work prospects. “And since I’m here, do you have five minutes to discuss the client assignments for the next month. I have a few interesting ideas that would increase team efficiency by several percentage points…” 

I had no doubt that whatever reassignment he would offer would increase his wallet more than anything else, and any improvement to the company coffers would be completely incidental even if they weren’t completely imaginary in the first place. “I’m too busy today, but maybe we can discuss them tonight, depending on my mood after the party,” I said. I had no intention of implementing anything he had came up in his initiative of course, but dangling the possibility was going to make the evening even more fun. “You can leave now,” I added, and he closed the door behind him, leaving me alone to plan how to handle the evening… 

      *****       *****       *****       *****       ***** 

It was well past ten when I pulled at Mike’s driveway, feeling no guilt at arriving later than I had initially promised. It was merely the first shot of an incredibly annoying assault to the asshole that tried to make my life hell while he thought he had power. I could have simply arranged for him to get fired, but it was a poor display of creativity. Why would I do that when of slowly torturing the asshole instead through the things he found most important. 

I reached the passenger seat to pick up the small gift box, a top-shelf tequila with a hefty price tag. Not a wallet-breaker for me, but enough to make Mike think that I cared about his opinion. It was just another hook I was dangling in front of a gluttonous fish, to make the evening even more horrible as I flirted with his wife while faking slight drunkenness. If he thought he had an actual rapport between us, he would be even more reluctant to defend his wife against my lecherous grasp. 

I rang the doorbell, followed by rapid footsteps from the other side of the door. The door laid open a while later, revealing Mike on the other side of the door, dressed in a smart-casual getup. A bit over the top for a home party, but he was just smug enough to think it made him look better. “Mr. Smith,” he said in his usual snide tone which he seemed to think as charming, and gestured me to walk inside. 

I just nodded in acknowledgment, not finding him important enough to give a verbal confirmation. The way his lips twitched told that he caught the slight, but was too powerless to reject, choosing to swallow it without an argument instead. I walked through the corridor, following the low-key rumble, a mixture of smooth jazz and buzz from the speech of a few different people. 

But before I could reach the living room, someone stepped on my way. A figure that I managed to place as Mike’s sexy wife despite catching a fleeting glance of her only once as she drove away. There was no mistaking of her eye-catching crimson mane, which was gathered on her head in a complicated knot, just a few streams spilling on her naked shoulders. I hadn’t had the chance to catch a view of her body previously, but she turned out to be a very understanding hostess in that regard, wearing a green dress that was just tight enough to give me a glimpse of her excellent curves, while managing the conceal enough to sustain the mystery. 

“Mike-” she was saying as she turned the corner, only to freeze when she came face to face me with a stranger. Or more accurately, face to chest, as she barely passed my shoulders even wearing a pair of stylish shoes with decent-sized heels. I lowered my head, enjoying the sudden panic on her face. 

“Tiffany,” said Mike as he dashed next to me. “This is my boss, Mr. Smith.” Then he turned to me. “And this is my lovely wife,” he said proudly, but pride that felt weird to my senses. Factoring in the significant age difference between them -she looked in her early twenties while he was clearly pushing towards his forties-, I felt that it wouldn’t be unfair to bet that there was a certain trophy situation involved, driven by Mike’s earnings. 

And, I was asshole enough to test that assumption. “A pleasure,” I murmured as I grabbed her hand, but instead of shaking, I brought them to my lips, pressing them on the back of her hand. She looked surprised at first, but panic wasn’t too far away as the touch of my lips lingered, bordering inappropriate. I could see her trying to her husband with her gaze, which then turned into a disappointed glare. It seemed that Mike chose not to interject, not wanting risk angering his boss. 

Excellent. 

I lowered her hand, holding her hand another second before letting go. Mike coughed pointedly. Since he was still behind me, I wasn’t able to see him. I thought I was the target of the cough, warning me about my extended touch, but the sudden anger on Tiffany’s face, her eyes looking over my shoulder, dissuaded me from that idea. “A pleasure to meet you as well,” she managed to say between her squeezed teeth, her grip tightening in rage.

“If you don’t mind, I brought a small gift,” I said, passing it to Mike, whose eyes widened as he noticed the fancy case and the brand name. Hook, line, and sinker. 

He passed it to his wife. “Honey, could you please put this in the kitchen,” he said with a smug expression. 

“Of course not, my love,” said Tiffany, though the way she spat her words left no mystery about her actual mood.  

“Excellent, now, let me introduce you to others,” Mike said as he put his arm on my elbow, trying to lead me inside. I hated being touched without my permission. I was tempted to push my elbow back ‘accidentally’ to see whether I could crack a rib, but that stayed as a fantasy. Physical violence was a younger man’s game, and I had better tools to get revenge. And from the cloud on anger that was hanging over Mike’s redheaded wife, I couldn’t help but feel that my alternative methods had a fertile ground to take root. 

Next few minutes passed in mind-numbing normalcy. Mike led me around the room, introducing me to his friends and neighbors while bustling around to make sure that I had drinks and food. Altogether, it was a rather poor display of bootlicking. And from the disappointed gaze of Tiffany, I could see that I wasn’t the only one in that opinion. A few minutes later, she walked to the corridor, disappearing deeper into the house. 

But Mike, who also noticed the disappearance of his wife, spoke before I could come up with a reason to get away and follow her. “I just need to check something in the kitchen,” he added before walking away, leaving me alone with one of his neighbors, who might be a part of the furniture as far as his potential for interesting talk went.

“Would you mind, I need to visit the restroom,” I said, cutting his bland tirade about the latest insignificant political scandal, following the same path Mike had disappeared to. 

I hadn’t need to walk for more until I heard two familiar voices having a row, both trying to whisper, but failing to keep it low in their obvious display of anger, which I could hear because they failed to close the door. I scooted closer to hear them clearly. “… I don’t care,” I caught Tiffany saying. “I can’t just flirt with a random guy, just because you’re so incompetent that they preferred to promote a junior to your place.” 

“Like that’s a huge sacrifice for you,” answered Mike with obvious bile, his jealously suggesting that it wasn’t the first time they were having that discussion. 

“So, I need to stop talking to all my male friends just because you’re feeling jealous, but then turn and act like a bimbo to your boss because you suck at your job. Is that it?” 

“Either that, or kiss your designer bags goodbye, because that’s how we’re going to pay our mortgage if I can’t increase my sales area. We’re in debt, if you remember. We need those commissions.” 

“When you’re failing to earn enough, it’s suddenly we when it comes to budget. How interesting. We wouldn’t be in this situation if you hadn’t leased that stupid sports car.” 

“That car cost less than your hairdresser…” Mike countered. It was time to get back, I decided. I had enough information for their fights, and I had a feeling that, after that fight, either Tiffany would disappear completely from the party, or come back with a vengeance to annoy her husband by the exact same way he requested. 

“Are they fighting again,” whispered gleefully one of the neighbors the moment I returned back, in a display emotion only a suburban wife could manage in the face of a juicy piece of gossip. I just shrugged, choosing to say nothing. “They always do,” she continued, taking my silence as an invitation to continue. “I heard that they are trying to have a baby, but it’s not going well,” she added with a whisper and a wink. 

Interesting, I thought as I carefully nodded in appropriate places to coax a more detailed explanation from her. Extra information seldom hurt its bearer as long as it was used wisely. Soon Mike returned the foyer, joining back to the crowd, but Tiffany failed to return. Pity, I thought in disappointment. I would have expected her to return. 

For the next fifteen minutes, I was busy nursing my drink as the rest of the crowd slowly started to leave the party. One advantage of coming late, as hanging around with the dull examples of humanity Mike chose to befriend was tough even for a brief amount of time. I couldn’t imagine suffering them for a couple of hours. 

The neighbors started to leave one by one, and soon, I was alone in the living room, with Mike at the entrance to send of his last guest. Unfortunately, Tiffany was nowhere to be seen. I filled myself another glass, planning to have one last drink before leaving permanently. I was considering just delay enough to have a brief talk with Mike about the zone assignments, planning to ruin his night by further reducing his responsibilities, and with that, his earning potential. 

But then I heard a voice that made me shelve those plans in an instant. “Where’s everyone,” said Tiffany. 

I turned towards to explain her, but when I saw her, my tongue was locked in surprise. The culprit: her new dress. Gone was the earlier flowing green dress that reached her knees, replaced by a tight silver one that barely covered her bottom, not that it helped much with its extreme tightness, giving me a perfect view of her booty. It was marginally looser on the chest area, but that mattered little with the cut that went sideways underneath her boobs, giving an interesting, yet welcome, angle for her cleavage. “You seem different,” I said, trying to sound nonchalant, but a slight hitch in my voice betrayed me. 

“I had a small mishap in the kitchen, so I needed to change.” She smirked viciously, aware of the full impact of her dress on me. “What do you think?” she added, followed by a small twirl, showing that her dress was backless, barely hanging on her body due to a knot behind her neck. It didn’t take a genius to see she wasn’t wearing a bra, and from the way the dress was clinging on her body, I guessed that it was the same for downstairs as well. 

“Impressive,” I said honestly, enjoying the way her red hair spilling on her silver dress and pale naked shoulders. “You should have started the night with this one. The party would have been much livelier.” 

“You think so,” she said, ducking her head in an approximation of shyness. 

I prepared to answer, but before I could, her husband arrived, cutting my words with a shocked gasp. “Tiffany,” he growled angrily, but cut himself short when I turned to him. “What are you wearing?” he continued, trying to suppress his anger from his voice, but that did little to moderate his sharp gaze. 

“I had a little problem in the kitchen, so I had to change. Is there something wrong with the way I dress, husband?” she added, a victorious smirk on her face. It was a bold plan, twisting her husband’s request to be flirty to a point that would make him blow a casket. And from his rapidly reddening face, he was more than aware of it. 

But the way he handled it managed to surprise me. “It’s okay,” he said with a shrug. His posture was shouting that it wasn’t okay, but he pushed it nevertheless. It was clear that he was expecting to change her mind now that he wasn’t rewarding her behavior, but that was his failure to understand the female mind. 

The way Tiffany smiled in smug satisfaction before starting to walk towards the kitchen just confirmed my conclusion. “Nathan, any preference for your drink?” 

“Bourbon if you have any,” I countered. “Double, neat.” 

“A real man’s drink,” she said with a giggle. It was a bit much, especially the giggle, but since she was banking on annoying her husband rather than gaining any favor with me, it was understandable. “What do you prefer, hubby,” she added, but her voice had a mocking edge. Subject to that, I wasn’t surprised when Mike repeated my order with a gruff voice. “Coming right up,” she said before starting to walk out of the room, her hips dancing attractively despite the challenge she was feeling from the situation. 

I kept my eyes firmly on the sway of her lips until she disappeared at the doorway, then turned back to Mike. “You’re a lucky guy,” I said with a leer on my face, mostly to annoy him. 

“Aren’t I,” he answered, impressively managing not to break his teeth as he squeezed them, clearly unhappy with the way his plan was coming together. Little did he knew that the night was just starting for him. “Have you watched the game last night,” he asked in a desperate attempt to change the topic. 

“I’m not a fan of sports,” I answered dismissively. “It’s a waste of time, stealing time from fruitful endeavors.” It was bullshit, of course, but I remember him using a very similar statement to insult me when it took more than ten minutes to fix his piece-of-shit computer. 

“I agree,” he confirmed rapidly. “I don’t usually watch them as well, but the guys insisted.” 

“I see,” I said, followed by an ominous pause. “Do you make a habit of folding when people insist, Mike,” I added. It was a ridiculous, meaningless hyperbole, but it was worth to see the abject horror on his face. 

“Of course not, sir,” he answered. “I do my best to stick to my decisions and principles.” 

“So, you lack the ability to roll with the punches,” I countered, catching him with surprise. He shut up, his face contorting with shock as he tried to come up with an answer that would leave him dry in the quagmire I set up for him. But I started laughing before he managed to put an answer. “Just joking around, Mikey,” I said, gently punching his shoulder playfully. I could see that he hated it. Still, he joined the laughter, chuckling uncomfortably. 

Before he could answer, his wife walked in the room, with a tray in her hands, carrying three drinks, a colorful glass of cocktail sitting in between two stout glasses, filled with amber liquid, quite a bit more than a double. “Bottoms up for the new beginnings,” I said as I raised the glass for cheers. 

“Bottoms up?” said Mike in alarm. 

“Of course,” I said with a shrug. “That’s the only fitting way for two men to start a business relationship together.” For a moment, I watched as he examined the glass with a fearful gaze. “You can handle it, right?” I added. 

“Of course I can,” he countered, using the same tone a fourteen-year-old desperately trying to convince his friends that he was also cool. I just smirked before raising the glass to my lips. The liquid that burned through my throat wasn’t entirely pleasant, but it was worth to see Mike desperately trying to keep a cough in as he drained the glass. 

Impressively, he managed to keep it until his glass was finally empty, but he started rocking with a deep cough the moment he pulled the glass away. “Wrong pipe,” he managed to whisper between the breaths while I shared an amused glance with his wife. 

“Can you bring us two more, sweetie,” I said as I pushed the glasses towards Tiffany, a statement that earned a glare from Mike, but considering his objectives for the night, it wasn’t a surprise that it was the end of it. 

She took a long sip from her own drink before making a gesture to reach the glasses. But she stopped before her hands touched the glasses. “Maybe I should just bring the bottle,” she said. 

“Excellent idea,” I said, and watched as she walked away. This time, the sway of her hips was even more pronounced, dancing deliciously in their silver wrapping.  

I watched with rapt attention until she disappeared at the doorway, acutely aware of Mike’s rising discomfort. “Let’s talk business,” I said, facing Mike only after his wife disappeared from the view. 

The night was starting to suppress my wildest expectations. I wondered for how far I would be able to push my new subordinate, and his sexy and angry wife…