Chapter 38 – Paris gets ready for a date

Mal was right in that he didn’t last all that long. He did last long enough, however, for me to learn the exact pressure he likes to be squeezed. Like the last time I got him off, Mal’s whole body stiffened as he got close. Instead of biting on my ear he instead leans back and lets out a heavy loud groan of obvious pleasure while squeezing me tight. I’m so focused on maintaining the correct pressure and not slowing my pacing that I almost don’t react fast enough. Just as I feel his thick cock swell further, I barely have time to direct it away from pointing right at my face. And thank God I did move it in time as Mal shoots cum at least six inches into the air, easily enough that he’d have hit my face.

As is, I get to watch him shoot off repeatedly, showering his legs with cum as it goes well past the towel I’d laid out. His last few spurts are more like leaks and spill over his cock to drip over my hand. When he’s finally done, his body relaxing but still holding me against his chest, I let go of him and start wiping my hand off on the towel. While I’m still being held in a position to watch him start to grow soft, I hear Mal’s now relaxed voice float down from above me, “You’re going to want to clean me up quickly. Wait too long and the attention of cleaning me up will just get me hard again. I can go several times in a row.”

The unsaid threat of having to immediately repeat this action gets me moving, switching the towel from cleaning my hand to cleaning Mal’s impressive member. I don’t make any pretense about being dainty or delicate about it and instead use both hands in quick curt actions to turn and lift him so that I can get him clean enough before it becomes arousing. When I’m finished Mal gives me a last hug before letting go and standing up.

When he doesn’t immediately get dressed, letting himself just hang bare right in front of me, I remember last time and crouch off the couch so that I can gather up his pants and underwear and pull them up. This time I remember to stop at his thighs where he takes the pants from me and finishes the job of pulling them up, tucking his shirt in, zipping up, and buckling his belt.

As if we’d just finished organizing notes or eating a meal, instead of sharing his masturbation, Mal walks over to his desk, saying over his shoulder, “Go ahead and get cleaned up then get those notes typed up and emailed to me. And type up a memo on my next call, I get Mr. Oreily mixed up with Mr. O’Boyle all the time.”

I allow myself to shudder in disgust as I do the best I can with the towels to clean my hands before standing up. After I get a trash bag and toss the towels into it, I knot it tight and start heading out of Mal’s office. Just as I open the door though, I hear him call out one last time, “Oh and Paris?”

Turning, fully expecting another humiliating compliment on my hand job technique, Mal instead says “When you look up gardeners, make sure they speak English clearly. The last one was terrible, and I could only understand every third thing he said.”

While the rest of the office day doesn’t get any better, it thankfully doesn’t get worse than having to jack off my boss. Yes, Frank realized that I’d sit in his lap to give him his report if he offered it. Yes, Darnell cornered me, and we played another round of ’20 dirty questions’. Yes, I humiliating ‘admitted’ I’d consider getting a tongue piercing if it meant giving better head after he admitted that he’s always fantasized about getting head from a tongue pierced woman. And yes, I ended up sitting in Mal’s lap two more times throughout the day. But even all together, that wasn’t as bad as jacking off Mal.

By five o’clock I’m buzzing along, re-composing Mal’s last couple emails before sending them out and getting the new gardener’s information together for Mal to take home while occasionally glancing up to smile and wave at people leaving. I’m surprised when I hear Mal come out of his office and not only close his door but lock it. When he speaks, he seems surprised, “Paris? Let’s go, time to end the day.”

When I spin my chair around to look at Mal I see him not only already in his jacket but holding my jacket up and open for me. For a moment I hold still as I try to figure out what’s wrong. The only time Mal left this early, without me knowing about some appointment that he had, was our Wednesday night ‘dates’. And this is exactly how they would start, him coming out of his office and holding open my jacket for me to slip into, being sure to show everybody that he’s a gentleman to ‘his girl’ on date night. But he said we weren’t going to fake that anymore.

Not wanting to look conspicuous, I smile and say in a calm voice, “Give me just a moment dear, I have to finish up these emails for you.”

Mal smiles and chuckles, looking like a classic movie leading man saying ‘Women!’, as I spin back around and finish up my last few tasks. When I’m all done, I lock down my workstation, stand up, and let Mal help me into my jacket. Instead of asking him what’s going on and possibly making a scene, I just figure that Mal forgot that we weren’t doing this anymore and play along. I’m not sure if his arm around me or his hand on my waist feels tighter or it’s just the bad memory of this morning’s activity making me not want to be in his grasp but regardless I keep my smile on and let him lead me to the elevator and down to the garage.

As is normal, there are several coworkers that share the elevator with us and even walk the same direction of Mal’s car meaning we’re not alone until we’re in his Mercedes. As he turns the car on, I ask, my voice low, “Mal? Um… I thought we weren’t going to fake these dates anymore. Remember when Darnell saw me on the train Thursday morning?”

Mal doesn’t seem perturbed by the question at all as he pulls out of the garage and starts driving away. In the opposite direction of my apartment. His voice is calm cool and collected, “That’s right Paris, we’re not faking the dates anymore. I didn’t think I had to be this clear with you, but I apologize for not explaining it fully. We’re not going to fake the dates anymore. They’re real. Every Wednesday I’ll take you out, we’ll have dinner and some fun, and then I’ll take you to my apartment here in the loop where you’ll spend the night.”

Mal’s hand reaches over the center console and rests casually on my knee, his fingers tickling back and forth, “I assume by your question that you didn’t think to bring any clothes or overnight things even though you have keys to my apartment. Is that correct?”

I feel the blood draining form my face as my heart simultaneously speeds up. We’re going out on a date? I’m spending the night at his apartment? At his ‘bachelor pad’?

Mal chuckles as he pats my leg, his hand moving noticeably further up toward the hem of my skirt, “Paris, you’re adorable when you’re surprised. I’m going to have to remember it and try to surprise you more often. Don’t worry, there’s a boutique around the corner of my building where we can get you something to sleep in and even a new outfit for tomorrow. There’s also a **** store across the street from the boutique where you can get your ladies supplies. I’m sure we can’t match all of your specialty products, but now that you know you’ll be spending at least one night a week at my apartment you’re to stock up your side of the bathroom appropriately. In fact by next week, I want you to have a mini wardrobe available there. Work clothes, date clothes, lingerie, everything a girl needs to please her man. After all, we never know who’s going to stop by and now that we’re committing to this we need to keep up appearances.”

The drive from the office to Mal’s building isn’t far but with afternoon traffic it still takes a while and lets me look out the window and wonder what I’m getting into. When I finally look up, I realize Mal’s “bachelor pad” isn’t going to be just some two-bit place as we’ve driven almost straight east and are almost at the lake. The garage entrance is of course in the alley, so we’re underground and I’m not exactly sure which building we’re in until we step into Mal’s ‘apartment’.

Apartment really does undersell it. My and Grace’s apartment is a little under one thousand square feet and is plenty roomy for the two of us. At first glance, Mal’s 17th floor apartment must be three thousand square feet. My apartment has one window looking out the front of the building and it’s a great view… of the building across the street. Mal’s has a wall of windows facing east with amazing views of Cloud Gate, Millenium Park, and of course Lake Michigan. My apartment building has a door with a sticky lock that doesn’t always work, Mal’s has a doorman and on-site security. Grace and I each have a bedroom, share a bathroom, have a combination kitchen dining room, and a cozy living room. Mal has three bedrooms, an office, a library, a massive living room, a dining room, a kitchen with its own eating area, and three bathrooms.

Mal talks about it so nonchalantly that I wonder what his home and vacation home’s must be like, “We had to buy three condos to get enough space. Cost a small fortune to tear out all the walls and make it one big living space. But it’s cozy and convenient to the office. Let me change clothes and we’ll go shopping for your things.”

As Mal steps into the master bedroom, I wander around and find that while the apartment is clean, it’s very obviously lived in. The office is laid out just like Mal’s office that I sit outside of every day. The kitchen is fully stocked, and I can even spot the coffee cup and bowl from this morning still in the sink.

When Mal comes back out, I stop and take in a sharp breath as he’s dressed completely differently. The most ‘casual’ that I’ve seen Mal is when he takes his suit jacket off and loosens his tie. And even then, that’s only late at night. Now he’s standing before me wearing a pair of tight black jeans, a black long-sleeved shirt with the top three buttons undone and the cuffs rolled halfway up his forearms. And most surprisingly of all, instead of his very expensive oxfords or monk strap shoes, he’s wear a pair of Converse Chuck Taylor All Star Hi Tops. He simultaneously looks more casual than I’ve ever seen him and more dressed up than ninety percent of the men in Chicago.

When he sees my look, I try to hide my surprise but he smiles slyly and holds out his arms, “Like what you see? Or just surprised that I wasn’t born with a tie? Come on, I’d like to finish shopping with time to get a good table for dinner.”

The ‘boutique’ that Mal mentioned is by appointment only. The personal shopper brings out dozens of blouse and skirt combinations that I get to pick between for my office wear tomorrow. I don’t see any prices so I try to just stay with a skirt and blouse as I can get panties and a bra at the **** store, but once I’ve made my selection the personal shopper insists on adding not only new matching lace thong and shelf bra, but completes the set with a complimenting garter belt, a new pair of silk stockings, and even some new heels. I try to stop there but the shopper says that Mal wants me to get something ‘nice’ to wear tonight as well. Here I don’t seem to have nearly as much choice as everything she brings out is black. As it’s a small selection of tops and skirts, most of them designed to show off way too much skin and therefore show off my body shapers, I end up with the only thing remaining. A very high waisted patent leather pencil skirt. It comes down to just below my knees and its hem is so small and tight that it’s basically hobbled me, leaving me with only the smallest of strides possible.

The only top that matches it is a black sleeveless turtleneck that has a faux leather collar, including an attached D ring on the front. After changing into it the shopper tells me quietly that it’s part of their fetish collection, but the only alternative top that might work has a low enough neckline that I’m afraid it would slip and show more than just a ‘touch’ of cleavage. More than that and it will show off the faja. When I tell the shopper that I’m happy with the ‘fetish’ top, she seems to take it in stride and bring out a pair of boots that she believes will finish off the look perfectly. Between the hobbling skirt, and the fetish collar top, I can see what she’s thinking. The boots start off as a stiletto heel that’s at least four inches tall. They then go all the way up to just where the skirt ends, leaving just a flash of my bare leg to shine between them.

At her insistence, as the shop will be closing soon, I try the whole outfit on. I’m not surprised to look sexy. This entire ordeal has been me dressing sexy, especially once Mal blackmailed me into being his bimbo eye candy secretary. But this outfit isn’t even an attempt at being office appropriate. I look more like I’m ready to go to a club, and possibly a sex club. Possibly as a performer at a sex club with the way the boots lift up my legs and ass and the skintight clothes fit.

With no other ‘casual’ wear that would work with my body shapers though, I have **** but to select these. Just as I tell the shopper that I’ll take it all I hear Mal behind me, “And she’ll wear it out. Go ahead and box up what she wore in.”

When the shopper has it all boxed up and brings everything to the register, I see Mal has added a collection of other boxes. After he pays, not letting me even peek at the cost, he has them all delivered to his apartment so that we can go across the street without carrying anything.

As soon as we step outside, I truly feel like I’m on display in a way I’ve never felt before. The boots alone would be enough to slow my walking down with their tiny delicate heels but when combined with the too tight hobbling skirt, I’m practically **** to take Mal’s arm for balance. And while it’s clear he’s walking slower than he normally does, I’d swear that he’s purposefully walking just a touch faster than I’m comfortable with, ensuring that I remain just off balance.