Chapter 33 – Paris and Mal impress each other

When morning comes around, I do NOT go into Mal’s office and close the door behind me. I give him no indication that I want to ‘play’. It’s still a frustrating day as Frank and Thomas and other guys on the floor seem to keep one upping each other flirting and sexually playing with me. John in sales is first. Everyone in the last few weeks has learned to call me by my name. Miss Beaufort. Occasionally, Paris. But John slips up at the copy machine calling me ‘Red’.

My back stiffens as I hate the idea of being reduced to the color of my hair. But with an inward groan I not only don’t turn and chastise him as I should have, I turn and wink at him instead with a playful grin. By the end of the day, I’ve been called red, toots, girl, babe, sweets, sweet cheeks, hot lips, and ginger.

Kyle, one of the graphic designers in marketing, came over to my desk on the pretense of asking my opinion on a campaign he was working on. It turned out he just wanted to show me pencil drawings he’d made of various naked women, including one that looked suspiciously like me. If only he knew what I really looked like under these clothes! Just as I was going to tell him to get lost though, Mal came out of his office and peeked over my shoulder. His simple comment of ‘nice’ reminded me that I had to be that flirty perky girl, so I spent twenty minutes watching Kyle get aroused while talking about the naked women.

It's not a surprise that Frank was the first to get physical. While I was bent forward going through one of the lower drawers of the filing cabinet in central storage, Frank and one of his teammates walked up beside me and started chatting. I’d normally either crouch down to avoid showing off my ass so overtly or simply ask them to talk elsewhere, but Miss Perky couldn’t do that. It’s like I practically gave Frank permission to give my ass that playful pat pat pat when they walked off. And me? All I could do was shake my hips in response. A kind of ‘Thank You!’.

Thomas of course couldn’t be outdone by his buddy and at the end of the day he specifically dropped that damned pen in front of me. I could see in his leering look what was coming but knew better than making a fuss. I made sure to bend forward at the waist to pick up the pen, giving Thomas ample opportunity to line up his hand and give me a properly loud spank to my upturned ass. My high-pitched yelp was probably exactly what Thomas was after. My **** giggle and ‘Oh You!’ afterward was just icing on the cake.

When Mal left for the day this time he didn’t seem to mind that we didn’t get to ‘play’ but he still complimented me on ‘warming up to the team’.

The weekend wasn’t exactly relaxing as I tried to live up to my promise to Trixie and not touch myself. As much as I hated admitting it, all the flirting and sexual energy at work was turning me on. It didn’t matter that I was on the very wrong side of every sexually charged moment, it was still a moment, and the moment turned me on. After all, if I wasn’t the secretary in these circumstances, I’d love to be one of the guys with a secretary like me. I’d love to have a girl with a spankable ass just bending over and asking for it. And THANKing me for the spank!

Grace couldn’t possibly know what I was going through, so I didn’t get in her face about it, but she seemed to be wearing less around the apartment. I think she had pants on while I was schlepping all of our laundry in and out for a few hours on Sunday, but otherwise she was just walking around in her panties and a long t-shirt. When the new pack of lipsticks and lip-glosses got delivered Saturday afternoon Grace said she wanted to try them out and see what colors worked for my skin, so she had me get dressed up for work and get my full makeup on except for my lips.

The first product she put on made my lips tingle all over. She said it was a natural lip plumper and should give my lips some more volume for several hours. If it looked good, I could keep some in my purse and when I re-did my lips after lunch could re-apply it then and keep the full lipped look all day. And as we stood shoulder to shoulder and looked at me in the mirror, I hated admitting it… but I looked damned good with my lips being puffed up just that little bit. It reminded me of what Stephen said, about permanently plumping up my lips with my own body fat and could better understand why women would do it. It looked good!

For the lipsticks themselves Grace insisted on putting them on but still complained about it. She didn’t like looking up at me since I was in my heels but didn’t want me to take the heels off. When she had me sit down though she didn’t like bending down to get to my lips. Her solution certainly worked but seemed rather… intimate. While I sat on the little vanity stool in my bedroom Grace simply straddled my lap and sat down atop me. It lifted her higher than me, so I had to look up while she smiled gleefully down at me. And I swear, her grip on my chin got a little tighter, a little more forceful, the longer we went on.

After applying a couple different colors, getting it just right, getting off my lap, standing next to me as we looked at it in the mirror, cleaning it off, sitting down, straddling my lap, and starting over, Grace decided it would be easier if we just stayed like this. She didn’t consult me on the decision and just stayed on my lap, not giving me the option to get up. Even when I jokingly tried to stand up halfway through our lipstick adventure, she clamped her thighs around me and gave my cheek a playful slap saying “Hey, my girl doesn’t move until I say she can move!”

All that meant I spent over an hour with Grace draped over my lap applying lipstick after lipstick. Cleaning them off and applying the next. Then working each one with various glosses, seeing if it looked better matte, semi glossy, glossy, or with a candy like sheen. Reds and pinks were the primary shades but there were purples and violets and even a couple greens and an orange. She might have only been wearing her old ripped up Nirvana tour t-shirt without any makeup herself and her hair all tousled and pulled into a rough ponytail, but it was damned erotic to just sit under her and do as she said while she talked about how each combination made me look good, or sexy, or pretty, or hot, or erotic, or sultry, or kissable.

It was really hard to not break my promise to Trixie after that, especially when I heard Grace take that long hot shower and relieve her own sexual frustrations.

I swear, I think I saw Grace shopping for more lipsticks Sunday night as I went on to bed.

Monday was more of the same at the office with the guys one upping each other all day, testing the waters on what they could do to me before I’d complain. And with each giggle and wink and playful quip, I just encouraged them to do more and more. Warming up to the team, as Mal put it. I thought maybe wearing the longer looser skirt would discourage the touching, but if anything, the guys liked it more, especially the long slit up my right thigh.

By the time they all end the day, Mal seems to still be ramping up. I don’t know exactly what he’s going after, but he seems to be getting closer to finishing the McGregor deal. I spend a lot of time moving quickly between central storage for old files and back to Mal’s office. It seems that each time I enter he’s on the phone talking heatedly with someone and has a new list of files that he needs. At one point he has me wait while he’s talking to what I assume to be a real estate attorney. I know from the files I’ve been getting that McGregor is overleveraged in a lot of real estate around the world and this might be a way to get an edge on them. As I’m waiting, I take a peek at the old paper files that Mal has on his desk as well as the web site he has up on his computer screen. Glancing between the two, it starts to become clear. The McGregor family estate, their palatial property in upstate New York, has been owned by McGregor corporation since 1898. It’s therefore part of their real estate holdings and the one piece that Mal had been missing. A two hundred and fifty eight million dollar piece.

I don’t know all the ins and outs, but I know that while all past dealings with McGregor dealt with various forms of corporate takeover, Mal has been working on weakening both the McGregor corporation and the McGregor family by tanking the value of their property. He’s already sunk almost seventy million into land purchases around the world just to either shore up other values or de-value McGregor holdings. Now, knowing that their family home, their crown jewel, wasn’t ever directly owned by the family and could be leveraged with the corporation, it may be enough to pressure the family into acquiescing to either a merger or an outright total acquisition. Sell off everything for an amazing profit, all to save their family’s reputation and homestead.

When I look up at Mal, I see that he’s not only ended his phone call, he’s staring at me expectantly. I stand up straight and take a step back. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were finished with your call Mal. What other files can I get you?”

Mal’s expression doesn’t change as he slowly shakes his head. With a glance at the computer screen, down to the ancient land grant, and back up to me, he asks, “Nothing. It’s done. Or will be this week. I don’t even have to tell you how, do I? You see it. Maybe not all the details, but you see it, don’t you?”

I take another look at the paperwork and the computer before looking at Mal. I know I’m between a rock and a hard place. As stern and intense as Mal is, always has been, he loves being a teacher. He loves when he can show someone something. Me demonstrating that I know the rough parameters of his plan, having started with no knowledge of this business and having no training other than working for him, would be an amazing acknowledgement of Mal’s ability. Forget the fact that it’s also an amazing acknowledgement of MY ability to learn, Mal would love seeing someone learn just by being around him. But on the other side of that coin, Mal loves his bimbo secretary. His giggling, gum chewing, nail polishing, there-as-eye-candy dumb secretary. By me showing that I’ve learned, I’m popping that particular fantasy bubble and he may well NOT like that. He might even get angry at it.

I consider it only for a few moments before coming to my conclusion. I simply can’t add more lies to my life right now. I’m a woman, I’m interested in men, I’m seeking sex, I’m having sex with Mal, I’m NOT having sex with Trixie, I’m not being blackmailed into being here, I’m transitioning to womanhood. Enough lies. I can’t add on stupidity to that long list. Nodding I try to smile and say, “Yeah, you’re going after their home. You’ve tanked all their other holdings and now that you know their estate is tied into all of that you can threaten it with a sub valuation that would **** their corporate structure to sell all of their real estate holdings as a single block to stay solvent. The only other way to go would be to sell off the corporation and you’d be one of the only offers that leaves their estate out of it and actually carves it out of the corporation so that they can keep it. In other words, sell to you, or lose their home of the past couple hundred years. It’s pride. You’re going after their pride.”

Mal’s intensity seems to increase as I speak and up until I mention the pride, I’m not sure if he’s happy or angry at my deduction. Only when he starts to honestly smile do I realize I made the right choice.

I’ve heard that Mal as a leader, as a director, as a boss, can be surprisingly generous. I’ve also been told that he’s so overwhelmed with this one deal that he’s pulled away from that trait, meaning I’ve never seen it first hand. That changed right here and right now. Keeping his eyes on me, Mal picks up the phone and dials a number out of memory. I recognize the number as I had to call the same one at least a dozen times last week trying to get a reservation for Mal and his wife. Alinea is almost impossible to get last minute reservations at as they open bookings at certain times during the year. Only by throwing around Mal’s name and agreeing to pre-pay for the entire multi thousand-dollar meal experience was I able to get a reservation for their anniversary.

When I hear the familiar snooty voice pick up, Mal keeps his eyes on me and says simply “Give me Grant. Tell him it’s Malachi and it’s important.”

My eyes open wider while Mal keeps just staring at me. Grant is certainly the chef and owner of Alinea. Even someone as rich and powerful as Mal doesn’t just call up and demand to speak to the chef and owner of a restaurant that’s earned three Michelin stars. But a few seconds later, I hear someone pick up.

Mal keeps his eyes on me while I listen to his half of the conversation. “Grant, it’s good to hear your voice again. No, no, everything is fine. I’m sorry to surprise you like this, but I may have just made the deal of a lifetime, and I need to celebrate. Of course I thought of you. Yes. Yes. That’s incredibly generous, but I wouldn’t dare interrupt your servings. I know how hard your clientele work to get those seating. No, but could you make an exception for me? I know it won’t be the same, but it will still be better than anything else I can get here. You can? That’s wonderful! I owe you one friend. Yes, it’s for two. My secretary. Yes, the one I told you about. No, she’s earned this. Nonsense, I’ll pay your normal price plus a hefty delivery fee. And if whomever you send gets here quickly enough, I’ll make sure the tip is well worth their time too.”

There must have been some joke to end their conversation as Mal gives a hearty laugh before thanking Grant again and hanging up. I know what’s going on even if I don’t know why he’s doing it. But I still have to ask, because if he’s trying to impress me with this he’s completely succeeded. “Mal, did I hear you… did you just… are they… you talked to…”

Mal grins even wider as he walks around his desk and uses both of his hands to grip my waist, “Paris, you have it right. I know the owner of Alinea. He’s doing me a favor by making the two of us dinner and having it delivered here.”

I’m stunned silent. Not only does Alinea not deliver, they’re famous for it. They’ve been on the local news for it and even had sixty minutes come do a story about them with an entire section of the story focusing on why they wouldn’t deliver. And now Mal got them to deliver us one of the best meals in all of the United States, if not the world. At the last minute. On a random Monday night!

Yeah, color me impressed.