WARM, SULTRY AIR FILLS HER LUNGS, breezing past like mild sweeps of an artist's paintbrush. Her steps are swift and measured as she hurries to the waiting black S-class. She eases across the paved terrace like some goddess locked in a time and place of her making.
A cream-white, multi-winged mansion rises beautifully behind her, adding a taste of exotic luxury to the already existing expensiveness of her prim attire. The ambience is colorful, communicating with nature in a way reminiscent of a creation-esque era.
She had always loved nature. She could always hear nature—even now. She can hear the faint whisperings of the wind brushing against her skin. She can feel her feet itching for the soft embrace of moist dirt. Her skin tightening for the release of what lies just underneath. But that isn't her world. Her world right now is full of multi-million dollar contracts, ZOOM meetings, endless trips on private jets, and yes—the occasional Hawaiian reservation. In the world she lives, you can't tell people you smell the night, or you know the exact time of spring, or feel a raw passion that singes the soul.
You just can't.
She sights a crow perched unusually high on a withered branch sticking from an otherwise verdant tree. Her Chauffeur follows her line of sight and she immediately enters the car. He sees nothing of course. The crow is 400m away.
"Clear my schedules, Fallon." Arielle mutters to her first assistant who stands admiringly peering down at her 'hot boss'.
She thinks Arielle can't see her. Wrong. With her superior eyesight, her burnished oakwood desk is virtually a mirror. She can also feel Fallon's eyes on her. Hear her heart beat from within her. Fallon's eyes drop to her chest, and her heart rate speeds up. Arielle allows her a moment to entertain herself before she calmly says,
"Fallon?"
The woman goes peach, her head lowered as she briskly exits the office.
The Office of Arielle Hiarton, CEO of HIARTON TOWERS observes a peaceful calm, and she reclines against the plump cushion. Just behind the two-inch transparent glass, her three Assistants mill around their desks, heads bent into whatever money-making manuscript. Her gaze flits around the Office.
She takes in the elegant thousand-dollar abstract murals on the walls, the lumpy lounges just beneath them, and the two hundred feet floor plan. In other words, her office is massive.
She sighs slowly, not because she hates the office though. It was the one pleasure she allowed herself. An entire floor to herself.
Just across her, to the left side of the Office lies a platinum door. Her 'Green' whispers to her from behind. This is the only way she doesn't allow whatever it is inside her out. By gently pacifying 'it' with mild peeks at nature in her office. She slowly rises from behind her desk, and Fallon who had being staring all along quickly averts her eyes. The high rise of other multi-million business platforms is her backdrop as she circles the smooth wood. Her heels click faintly on the chrome floors, and then she does it.
Or rather, they do it.
Fallon Fiske peers up from her blank notes and spots her boss; the Influential, ethereally stunning, billionaire businesswoman. Arielle always made her knees go weak. Right from her first day. It was impossible not to feel desire around her.
Her Boss was Seduction and Art, in a pencil skirt and black heels.
Fallon clenches together her thighs, her palms going sweaty. Then Arielle does it. She pins her with those eyes. Her beautiful emerald eyes, and she goes liquid; gravitating towards the lusty embrace of her mysterious mistress.
The other assistants are unaware of the hot desire splashing across, between Arielle and Fallon. The glass doors silently slide open and Fallon sweeps in, her eyes focused on Arielle's green ones. Arielle turns to the right. This time, towards a red door.
~. ~. ~.
Fallon is barely through the door when Arielle grabs her waist. She drags her close, kissing her fiercely as they move for a comfy lounge to the side of the room.
Arielle pushes her to the bed and Fallon's eyes widen in excitement. She grips Fallon's ankle, her touch soft, and slowly spreads her legs apart. Milk-white skin shows all over as her black office skirt rides up her thighs. Arielle lowers her head, slow and seductive between her legs. Fallon lifts up at the hips. Her back archs up as she watches Arielle drive her wild. She immediately begins fumbling with her top. The buttons fly open as Arielle goes deeper on her.
"FUCK! Arielle," Fallon whimpers.
Her hands are bound over her head by the thin straps of her black thong. Her legs attempt to fall closed. Arielle pushes them wider, devouring her until she goes hot with lust, her hips bucking into her lover's mouth.
"Please, Arielle..... let me feel you," she whispers.
Arielle fingers the thong and it comes loose. Fallon immediately pulls her up from between her legs and dives for her chest. Her mouth closes over rosy nipples, hot and unyielding, and Arielle's head falls back, her silky mass of chestnut hair tickling the folds of her skirt.
Fallon slides her hand between her legs and Arielle lets out a small moan as two fingers disappear inside her. Fallon lifts up her chest, leaving a trail of kisses on her neck and jaw before again claiming her lips.
"Say my name," Fallon whispers as she pushes her fingers deeper,
"...Say it."
Arielle's eyes turn bright green like that of a barium flame and Fallon is briefly stunned. Her eyes fall closed and Fallon clamps her teeth over the skin of her neck as their climax overwhelms them.
They are both catching their breaths on the crimson lounge when their phones buzz simultaneously. The two women reach for theirs'. After a swift peek at the lit screen, Fallon mutters,
"I have to go. It's Lyter. He said the babysitter never came."
Arielle nods.
"Who is it?" Fallon enquires.
"Michael."
"Your fiance?"
"Yes."
The two women stare at each other about a moment before the giggles erupt.