King Page 6

  “And you haven’t heard the best bit” she grinned, biting her lip to stifle her smirk and disguise the fact that her little revelation was something she probably shouldn’t have been happy about. “Go on” I eyed her suspiciously. “Ian Anderson lost the fashion pitch” she whispered and I couldn’t help a self satisfied smirk right back. I didn’t need to ask who’d won. “How many sugars?” she laughed, fishing the tea bag out of the china mug. “None” I grinned, making my way back to my desk and firing up my emails. I couldn’t resist.

  To: Jason King

  Congratulations on the Tristan Wright account. Really, I mean it.

  Smith

  Whether he knew it or not, Jason King had done me a huge favour, and part one of my plan was in place. Ian Anderson would have to pitch his arse off to make up for that loss and the awards were three weeks away. Exec of the Year, was based solely on twelve months revenue and the deadline was a week on Friday. I had another five pitches planned, six if we could turn around an idea for own brand bleach in 48 hours, and there was no way anything worth the necessary amount of money would come to us within that timescale. Big clients wanted big impact and gave us big timescales to achieve that. With four nominees and only one exec allowed per advertising house it would be a close run battle, but I’d secured all five pitches this week. The revenue wouldn’t update until Monday which is probably why Ian Anderson was lording it around and announcing himself as this year’s Grayson nominee. I probably couldn’t beat King but I’d take runner up. Runner up to Jason King was no mean feat I mused as I received my reply.

  Smith

  Sarcasm is not becoming and I still have the dress. It doesn’t fit any of my friends, they are all so slender. You might as well have it.

  King

  I couldn’t help but laugh. I wasn’t surprised, his ‘friends’ were all size 0, not a size 10 and walked catwalks for a living. I hadn’t been sarcastic, although as I read it back I realised it could have been taken that way. It was certainly lean on the charm. I tried again.

  Dear Jason

  I wasn’t being sarcastic. I am genuinely pleased you won Tristan Wrights account, whether you realise it or meant to, you have actually done me a huge favour. I think you will do it tremendous justice and if you are struggling, you can always utilise the catwalk expertise and experience of all your slender friends.

  Seriously, I mean it. Thank you

  Charlotte

  My reply came instantly and I had to read it twice.

  Dear Charlotte

  If that is true, I wonder if you would be prepared to return the favour. There is a professional situation unrelated to the Tristan Wright account that I am struggling with. Unfortunately my slender friends do not have the experience or expertise that you do in this field.

  Seriously, I need your help.

  Jason

  I couldn’t pretend I wasn’t intrigued. I was, in fact beside myself with curiosity, excitement and anticipation swirling through my gut. The thought that Jason King might need my help was a concept I was entirely unfamiliar with. I called Katie through. “What do you make of that?” I grinned as she looked at me, eyes wide and giggling, pushing my chair hard, with me still in it, until it rolled away from my desk, and was halfway down the office, typing furiously on my keyboard before I could stop her.

  Would love to help. When do you want me?

  She pressed ‘send’ before I could grapple my way back, as I stared at her in horror. She was laughing profusely before making for the door. “How many sugars?” She smiled as I burst out laughing myself, “still none” I grinned. “I fucking knew it” I heard her mutter under her breath, still giggling. I stared at the screen waiting for a response and my heart leapt despite myself when the reply came through.

  King Marketing foyer, tonight at 7.00pm

  I swallowed hard. It was true that tonight I wouldn’t have to work until Midnight for once, I was in front on most of the pitches for next week, and Katie had even started on an extra campaign for pre boiled eggs in case the revenue gap between me and Ian was closer than I thought, and that was over and above the own brand bleach. I sat back in my chair, wondering if this was a really bad idea, deciding eventually that it probably was but I would go anyway. The truth was, I hadn’t seen King since we’d clashed on the street outside the wine bar and he’d told me ‘not to fuck the model’.

  The amount of work my loyal little team had ploughed through was incredible and a phenomenal distraction from the man in the next building. I wasn’t thinking about him nearly as much, probably only once an hour now. The irritation I normally felt had dissipated, replaced with a dreamy vision of his eyes blazing into mine as he pounded me with that beautiful cock up against the door of his office. I felt sure that within five minutes, he’d have pissed me off with a smug look or infuriating comment, reminding me what an arrogant prick he was, and I would be back in the familiar state of general annoyance with Jason King that I was both more familiar and comfortable with. It was worth going just for that.

  OK

  Was my simple reply, I was damned if I’d betray that I was in any way looking forward to the encounter, although the butterflies erupting furiously from my churning stomach reminded me otherwise. “The deed is done” I grinned at Katie as she returned with a no sugar tea and sat down, assessing me closely and trying hard to stifle her smug ‘you’re into him’ grin. “Where are you meeting him?’ she chuckled, taking a sip of her coffee. “Foyer of King at 7” I said simply as she looked me up and down shaking her head, smiling.

  “You can’t go like that Lotty. No offence honey, I know you’ve been working flat out, and 20 hours sleep in a week would probably throw anyone off, but you look like shit. Your suit doesn’t even match”. My eyes flew to my outfit and I was horrified to realise she was right. The grey skirt had little checks in the material and was a slightly darker shade than the grey jacket that didn’t. I hadn’t even noticed as she laughed out loud. “Oh my God, I’ve been getting dressed in the dark to get in here for six, I didn’t even realise Katie. Just exactly how many days have you let me walk around looking like my wardrobe puked on me?”

  I narrowed my eyes at her. “It’s been getting steadily worse” she laughed “You’ve got away with it Lotty, don’t panic. Ian noticed though and I couldn’t help but laugh. He said you weren’t yourself and smugly told me that the fashion pitch much have taken a much bigger toll than he’d realised”. I smiled at that, he clearly still had no idea what we’d been up to. “I told him he was right. It’s amazing just how deluded some people are. He clearly thinks your ego is as big as his. I suspect being taken off a pitch wouldn’t be something he handled very well”. “I think you’re right, but what the hell am I going to do about this?” I gestured at my outfit as she looked at me, a small smile curving her lips. “Why are you bothered Lotty, I thought you hated him?” I rolled my eyes as she burst out laughing, “store room now” she grinned, gesturing for me to follow her.

  “There must be something in here” she smiled as we made our way into the treasure trove that was the Grayson International Media store room. “Dear God Katie, what the hell is all this stuff?” I laughed, throwing a rubber chicken at her back. “It’s what we get sent from customers to inspire us for our pitches, mostly the ones we don’t use”. “I think it’s unlikely I’ll find anything worthwhile in here” I grinned, speculatively eyeing up some gardening equipment and a collection of coloured toilet paper as she beckoned me around the corner to reveal rack after rack of clothes, hung in size order on silver hangers and I gasped out loud. “Have you never noticed how I go out straight from work in a completely different outfit?” I nodded, smiling at her. “I get it back, and no one’s any the wiser” she grinned, pulling out a cashmere wrap dress in pale pink as I gaped at her wide eyed.

  “I’ve been saving this little beauty for the right occasion. Stylish, feminine and short enough to be a little bit sexy” she winked as I held it up against myself nodding ent
husiastically. “Shoes” she said firmly as I followed her to another section. “This is a bit more tricky, they always send a five. Some are bigger than others and I can shove my sixes into them” she looked at my feet. “What size are you?” “Five” I laughed, her eyes brightening, betraying her excitement at the thought we could really get stuck into the collection that I now realised was Katie’s own personal shopping heaven, no cash required.

  “Nude patent and very, very high” she squealed. Had I any idea that all these wonderful items were nestling in the bowels of my workplace, I would definitely have been down here before. “Who knows about this stuff?” I laughed. “Everyone, but no one except me and Annabel on reception know just how good some of it is and that’s the way we want to keep it OK. Most people think its rubber chickens and gardening shears. Annabel logs it all and lets me know if there’s anything interesting. I like that I can come down here and I’m on my own. If word gets out, it will be like Selfridges on Boxing Day, can you imagine?” I laughed loudly, I definitely could. “Go and get changed Lotty and I’ll come and sort your hair out for you” she winked as I dragged my fingers through it and nodded. It was clean, but in my rush this morning, it would be fair to say that was all it had going for it.

  She was right. Whatever he wanted my help with, it wouldn’t hurt to look my best while offering it. The last I’d heard the man was dating a supermodel, and whilst I could in no way compete with that, I could surely do better than a mismatched suit and a blouse with a tea stain. As six forty five rolled around she had revived my hair with a tropical smelling treatment for enhanced body that she had recovered from the treasure trove, and teased it into soft curls with a great little device I’d decided I’d actually go out and purchase myself. He’d know I was coming straight from work and assumed I always looked like this. That couldn’t hurt, I thought, trying to push back sexual thoughts about Jason King and hoping he’d just be his usual self and irritate me immediately. The thought that I could actually desire him was infinitely worse.

  Chapter 5

  I couldn’t shake the nerves that consumed me as I made my way into the King Marketing foyer at five to seven, my mouth was bone dry and as he came out of the elevator, striding confidently towards me I swallowed hard. He looked glorious, black dress pants slung low around his waist, his crisp white shirt open at the collar, having discarded his tie, black hair seriously mussed up. I couldn’t decide whether it was because he’d been running anxious fingers through it, or just finished another sexual dalliance up against his office door. I frowned at the thought, just as he approached me smiling broadly. “Smith” he grinned “What’s with the face?” My eyes shot to his, releasing the frown and I shook my head. “Nothing King, what do you need me for?” His smile was wicked and mischievous and my stomach flipped, as I suddenly wondered what the hell I was getting myself into. “Follow me” he said eventually, nodding in recognition to his staff who were filing out of the building. “Where are we going, your office?” I said quietly, my voice breaking slightly, betraying the nerves I was desperately trying to push back as he raised an eyebrow at me. It hadn’t gone unnoticed.

  “No, I don’t trust you in there” he grinned, winking at me as I rolled my eyes. Carry on King, keep reminding me why I hate you, I thought to myself, my mouth set in a firm line as I followed him into the elevator, ignoring the heat radiating from him in the enclosed space as he raked his eyes slowly over my body. I was at least three steps behind him as I followed him silently into a huge room, filled with couches, rugs, beanbags, balls and all kinds of strange textured items on the wall as I looked around dumbfounded. “What’s this?” I frowned as he shrugged laughing. “Creative space. Just sit down and I’ll tell you why I need your help”. I chose a huge butter-soft leather settee and flopped back, looking around as he came towards me, a square white box, wrapped in gold satin ribbon held in his hands, a small smile playing around his lips, eyes twinkling.

  “I’ve got a pitch I need your help with” he said eventually as I eyed him suspiciously. “Well two things concern me about that King. Firstly I’m the competition. Secondly, I know from painful experience that you are frighteningly effective at pitching advertising campaigns without my help”. I held his gaze, his smile broadening. “I couldn’t think of anyone more fitting for this. The creative department have only come up with the usual clichés and I want something unique and different, it’s incredibly important to me”. I couldn’t contain my curiosity “What is it?” I stared at him, his eyes twinkling more than ever. “Cake” he grinned. Evidently, insulting me was the main purpose of my visit. “Ask your girlfriend King” I said sarcastically, rising to walk towards the door. “I don’t do girlfriends” he said simply, opening the box and holding it under my nose. ‘Oh my God’ I thought to myself, licking my lips involuntarily as I took in the round vision of chocolate and vanilla paradise that was resting in the box. Except for the lonely mini roll, not a morsel of sponge had passed my lips in a week, it was tempting.

  He caught my gaze and held it there. “Grayson haven’t got this pitch, it’s a personal contact Smith, so there’s no competition, my friends don’t eat cake and neither do I”. “You don’t like cake? Even chocolate and vanilla?” I asked in astonishment, unable to comprehend how anyone could not like cake. He looked at me intently, his mouth twitching wickedly “especially not vanilla” he grinned. “Smith, the team haven’t come up with anything I’m happy with, and you are the target market for this product. I really, really need your help” he shrugged. “I’m not being facetious Smith, I just couldn’t think of anyone better”.

  So he considered me a girl who stuffed her face with dessert. It was partly true, I laughed inwardly. I had nothing to lose and everything to gain, including the two to three pounds this cake would put on my hips that I’d have to spend all weekend running off. Sod it, it was worth it I thought, reaching for the fork he was teasing me with. “Not so fast Smith, you can’t just dive in. I’ve brought you here because this is creative space and I need you to get in the right frame of mind, so you can get a feel for the product”. “I’d rather get a taste for it King” I smiled as he laughed gently. “You’re going to have to trust me”.

  Well that would be the day, I thought, sitting back on the couch as he sat next to me, slightly closer than necessary and burning me with his gaze. Mine flitted between his and the chocolate and vanilla decadence calling me from the box in his hands.

  “I want you to lie down and wear this” he grinned, pulling out a black silk eye mask from his pocket as my heart flipped and I stared at him wide eyed. “Not going to happen” I frowned. He simply smiled. “Listen, I want you to totally relax, imagine you’re somewhere else and concentrate all your senses on that cake. It’s the only way we’ll get to something nearly good enough for this pitch. I’m not going to do anything to you. You can take the blindfold off if you feel uncomfortable, but please at least give it a try. I’ve taken it on good professional advice that this is the best way to get what I need. Please, be a sport Charlotte”. My eyes flew up to his, his features had softened and he looked silently hopeful, and a big part of me wanted to explore this strange opportunity with King. An even bigger part was determined to hoover up that cake. It didn’t help my resolve that he had actually called me Charlotte.

  “OK” I smiled and nodded, laying back on the couch as he put the silk mask delicately over my eyes, my last vision of his soft full lips and dark stubble before the room went black. “Do you want some music to help you relax?” and I giggled, shaking my head. “Stop being nice King, you’re freaking me out”, his soft chuckle like a delicate call to my ears as all my other senses heightened and I couldn’t help but smile. I felt his weight, perched on the couch next to me, turning my face towards him, acutely aware of his soft breathing before he whispered gently in my ear. “Open wide”.

  His voice was smooth, sensual, and I couldn’t help but think if dentists used eye masks and spoke like that, people would positivel
y relish going for a scale and polish. I opened my mouth, banishing all thoughts of dentists, concentrating instead on our mutual soft breathing and the sudden rush of exquisite chocolate that danced in all its sugary glory, smooth like silk against my taste buds, as I relaxed into the couch. I couldn’t help the small moan that escaped my lips as I swallowed it down.

  There it was, the soft low chuckle again, which was doing dangerous things to my sight deprived body. The feel of him near me, his masculine woody scent, the taste of the chocolate relaxing me into a state I didn’t recognise, and my body arched involuntarily towards him as he whispered the word “more”, low and seductive and I opened my mouth, surprised at the level of my own arousal. I was in a strange and unfamiliar hypnotic trance, relishing the feel of the chocolate in my mouth, revelling in the new layer of taste that burst across my tongue, deeper and richer than the one before it, and as soon as I swallowed I parted my lips for more, that seductive low chuckle making me crave the invisible King almost as much as the cake.

  The taste was heavenly, divine and indulgent, a pure edible bliss and I licked my lips before opening wide again. This was vanilla cream and smooth dark chocolate, moist sponge wrapped in a silky soft sweet stickiness and I moaned again, my breath hitching as I felt his finger running across my lips, and I heard his almost inaudible gasp as I kissed it softly. “Do you like that Charlotte?” “Mmmmmm” was about all I could manage, inching towards him as he ran a soft finger down my cheek and neck. I knew it was King, the bane of my professional life and a source of constant irritation, but I couldn’t stop myself wanting him, silently pleading for him to go further as I parted my lips and arched upwards.

  The finger on my neck was replaced by his lips as I shivered deliciously beneath the touch, lost in my senses. He planted smooth, soft butterfly kisses in the most sensitive places, as my skin ignited beneath him, my deprived sight and my heightened awareness driving the intensity of my arousal as his lips landed softly on mine, and I moaned into him. I felt his deft hands quickly undo the wrap dress as the wonderful, intimate assault on my sugar sweetened lips continued, his hand dipping inside my bra to stroke the hard buds of my nipples that strained against the delicate lace.