The Position

By Dahlia Salvatore

He's always had a way with the female executives.

Dylan Farrow puts on his pants every morning one leg at a time, just like everyone else at the Kerrigan Advertising Agency. He handles high-pressure projects with a fast turnaround. He's prized for his keen intellect and admirable performance. But how did he get where he is today—to the level of Junior Executive of Design Production? Well, that involves how he takes his pants off—and for whom...

She's sacrificed love to get where she is today.

Hoping to break through the glass ceiling under which she's been trapped for years, Valerie Caplan picks up her life and moves to Seattle. After hearing about the position of Senior Executive of Design Production from an art director at Kerrigan, she decides to apply. When she lands the big interview, she never thinks for a minute that she'll have any serious competition. She assumes that she has the job in the bag...until she discovers that the only competition has something she doesn't have—the willingness to go outside the office to impress Danica Stewart, their demanding maneater of a boss.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dahlia Salvatore
• Release date: Jul 21, 2016
• ISBN: 9781536556469

Dahlia Salvatore

Dahlia is an erotica and romance author living in Seattle, Washington. Originally from Coos Bay, Oregon, she's always dreamt of the big city and headed north where she met her husband and settled down. She's always been a reader, and has recently spread her wings and expanded her horizons. Now that she's begun writing, there's no end in sight to what she'd like to accomplish.

Book preview

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Dylan

My desk phone rang. I smiled. It was the call, the one I'd been expecting for hours.

Yes? I answered.

Mr. Farrow, Mrs. Cooper would like to see you in her office.

Thank you, Debra. I knew the secretary by her first name; then again I made it my business to know. I was a low-level executive at The Kerrigan Advertising Agency, a firm of the highest standing in the industry. We'd done ads for tons of major labels—everything from clothing to cola. It wasn't easy to move up in the company. I had done a lot of—well … pushing and pulling to get where I was. It's important to understand that I did my job. I'd done every single thing my superiors had asked me to, and then some, often in record time. I was always willing to go that extra mile to impress my supervisors.

I grabbed my black blazer from the hook on the wall and slid it over my shoulders. To me, my job wasn't just running my small team of designers, going to meetings or pitching campaigns. It was about much more than that.

I stepped onto the elevator and the doors slid closed.

I'd stumbled across a stunning and useful fact about Kerrigan while I was an intern: ninety-percent of their executives were female. I checked my blonde hair reflected back at me in the chrome, while I hummed along with the familiar elevator music playing on the intercom. When I reached the top executives' floor, I buttoned my blazer. I winked at the secretary as I bypassed her clearance altogether. She knew the drill.

I pushed open the wood and silver door, and then locked it behind me.

When Janice Cooper saw me, the rise and fall of her chest grew more pronounced. Oh, hello Dylan, she said, her cheeks flushed. I—I was just finishing up your offer letter.

Our eyes locked as I strode toward her desk without a word. At thirty-nine, she was just shy of middle-aged. With her wavy chocolate-brown hair, nobody would have guessed she was closer to forty than thirty. Her laugh-lines and dimples quivered at the corners of her mouth as she smiled. She had a nice pair of tits and I eyed them as if her blouse weren't there.

Janice was important to me, and not because of her tits, but because she was a division director. When I decided I wanted to move up, as I had before, I'd gone up to my superior's office and introduced myself. By way of some innocent questions, I found out she was married but completely unfulfilled at home. And just like I had with all my other female bosses, I made myself useful to her, visiting her office several times a week, doing what her husband couldn't do at home. That was, I made her come so hard that she usually couldn't walk afterward. And just to make sure this offer for Junior Executive was in the bag, I was about to do it again. ...

I stepped around behind her chair and put my hands on her shoulders. She shuddered under them. She knew damn well what was coming. I rubbed the tension from her muscles for a moment, an intimate but seemingly harmless move.

Do you want to hear the letter? she asked with anticipation in her voice.

I traced the fingers of one hand down her neck. Her pulse raced under my palm. I wasn't there for romance though.

When I didn't answer, she began to read. To Mr. Dylan Farrow, Assistant Director of … Marketing: W-we— Her breath caught as I teased her earlobe with my fingertips. We are pleased to offer you the p-position of—of ...

I leaned down to her ear. Get out of that chair, Jan.

She stood slowly, but when she tried to turn, I grabbed her hips and yanked her back against me. I began unbuttoning her blouse from behind. Keep reading, I whispered.

of J-Junior E-executive of Design Pro— I closed my hand around her right breast. Her knees buckled as I kneaded. She bit her lip as I twisted her nipple.

Finish, I ordered.

She inhaled frantically as I lifted the hem of her black pencil skirt and pressed my hand up between her thighs. I could hear the longing in her moans as I did whatever I wanted with her. My dick got nice and rigid against her ass. Production, she finished, the strength in her voice wavering.

My hand swept everything off her desk, sending pens, papers and files into the floor. I shoved her over the leather desk-mat and maneuvered between her legs. Keep going, I commanded as I slid her skirt up over her ass. She was wearing a pretty satin and lace pair of panties, something that both amused and aroused me. She knew very well that she didn't need to bother with pretty formalities. I was going to fuck her regardless of what she wore.

Oh, God, she muttered under her breath. I—I can't ... Don't make me wait, Dylan. Please!

Not yet. I want to hear it all, I whispered in ear.

The p-position entails ... entails ...

I tugged the panties down until her she was spread out in front of me. Her entire body was begging me to make her come, but I held back to make her beg again. I loved hearing those high-level executives beg.

What's wrong, Jan? I growled against her shoulder. Forget how good this cock was yesterday? Don't you want it up to the fifteenth floor all the time? Make me believe you want it. …

Please! she begged again. Please Dylan!

I reached down and slapped her wet pussy with the flat of my hand. She squealed and wiggled; she did that every time. I pinched, tickled and teased her, from her clit to that soft, inviting hole I was going to fill up. I knew she was close to the brink, driven crazy with lust for me. I'd brought her to this point many times, turning her into no more than a slut addicted to the dirty things I did that she never got anywhere else.

… position entails … overseeing—fuck—Jesus! she cried. My fingers were dripping before I could slide two of them into her. I reached until I found her g-spot. I'd practically memorized where it was. She moaned loud and long at the contact, then gripped the edge of her desk as a third finger joined them. She bit her lip as I drew circles over the tender flesh. I thrust my fingers deep and fast, massaging until she came all over my hand.

Yeah … That's the way Mrs. Janice Cooper likes it, isn't it? I taunted, punctuating the sentence by giving her another good few slick finger-lengths.

Yes! she moaned.

What's that? I didn't hear? Do you talk that quietly to your husband when he fucks you? She wasn't answering me, so I brought her to the edge, then retracted my fingers suddenly. I can't hear you, Jan. I can't.

That's how I like it, she groaned.

You'll like this even more, I assured her. I unzipped my pants prepared to give her exactly what she wanted. I wrapped my wet hand around my pulsating shaft and pumped it until I was at my full hardness. But instead of making her wait, I plunged it in deep, in one swift push.

She clenched around me. Her back arched as she screamed. Any chance of us not being heard had gone out the window. If she didn't know what we had been doing for three months behind the closed office door, the secretary surely knew now.

More pencils rolled out from underneath Janice's tits and clattered to the floor. I'd messed up her office, now I was going to ruin her pussy. I'm going to fuck you, Janice, with every inch of me. I blew the forceful sentence into her ear. I'm going to fuck you for giving me this job. I'm going to pound your sweet cunt until you come all over your desk. I began sliding in and out of her, finding her spot again with the head of my dick. The only thing I'm overseeing today is your orgasm.

I'd delivered that warning to benefit her, then I made good on my word. I fucked her for an hour, until she was a shaking wet mess draped over her desk, until she lost her voice from screaming.

It's what I did best. ...

Valerie

The wind rushed around me as I stood on the balcony and looked out at downtown Seattle. From my apartment on the sixteenth floor, I could see the space needle and the lights glittering on as the sun set over the Puget Sound. I'd always wanted to live by water. I took in a lungful of air. It was different than the mountain air I was used to in Denver. In this breath, I could taste the sea.

I smiled. I'd never set foot in the city before today, but I could already tell I was going to love it. The opportunities seemed endless and I felt freer than ever before to pursue them. That was especially true because I wasn't working and had a ton of time on my hands. Unfortunately, I'd given up on most of my hobbies and extra-curricular activities in order to climb the ladder. I was a self-professed workaholic, and, so far, I liked it that way.

Being that I'd given up most social obligations, I didn't have many friends. There were maybe two or three in Denver, but they had families and their own lives, so we didn't see each other often. In Seattle, I had one friend—one—and I'd only known him for two months, and only because of my job connections.

In Denver, I'd worked for Trinity Advertising Corp. They were a medium-sized company, but slowly gaining popularity and clout. My problem had been that I wasn't gaining enough ground for comfort. I was too ambitious to enjoy a stagnant life. This move was about climbing further and becoming more than I'd been before. At Trinity, I'd hit the dreaded glass ceiling and moving on became my top priority. That's why I had gone to Seattle, on the recommendation of a man who barely knew me.

Chuck had recommended me to his boss for a position as Senior Executive of Design Production. That meant I was going to be overseeing several Art Directors, who in turn oversaw the teams which produced the company's biggest projects. I badly wanted the job and I damned sure deserved it. Because I'd put so much of myself into making every line on my resume count, I was confident. Maybe overly so, since I'd moved to Seattle before I even landed the position. My plan-b was to apply at the other ad agencies if that job fell through. Anything was better than Trinity, right?

I turned back into the apartment and slid the glass door closed. The emptiness seemed bigger than any sound I could possibly make, but nevertheless, I found the box labeled sound system and unpacked my iPod docking station and set it up on the floor. I looked up my eighties mix and suddenly the apartment was filled with Billy Idol's voice, from the hardwoods to the beams of the vaulted ceiling.

I smiled, dropped onto my butt in the middle of the boxes and began making the empty rooms into a home. After just a few hours, the kitchen and bathroom were completely unpacked. I estimated that if I kept going through the night, I'd be done by morning.

Break time, I thought, wandering into the kitchen. I rinsed out a dusty wineglass and uncorked a year-old bottle of Prosecco. While I leaned on the high granite-top breakfast bar, I felt the evil stab of loneliness convict me of sucking at life. I wished I had someone who I could share this experience with. It would be fun to listen to Madonna and drink with a friend.

It could have been the wine hitting my empty stomach, but I was called to action by a voice in my head saying 'That's enough!' The voice was right. It was time to branch out, meet new people, form relationships—and maybe even find a man. God, I need to get laid, I thought, refilling my glass. I clutched the drink with both hands, bringing it to my lips—Oh, yes, my friend wine. ... Reveal to me what I should do with my life.

sep

I hated myself in the morning when I woke up on my naked mattress. The box spring was still leaning against the opposite wall along with the nightstands. My dresser was facing the wrong way against the third. Trash bags full of my clothes were piled against the fourth. I rubbed my throbbing head. Why did I drink last night? I thought, eyeing the empty bottle by the bed. As I blinked against the bright morning light, I could have sworn I heard music.

My playlist had to have stopped while I was sleeping. I panicked as I realized it was my phone ringing. I knocked my knees against a box of books as I stumbled down the hallway to the living room. Underneath a trash bag full of newspapers, my phone was vibrating like crazy. I didn't recognize the number on the caller-ID.

Somehow, I managed to answer in my business voice, Hello?

May I speak with Ms. Valerie Caplan?

This is she, I answered. My stomach turned, though I wasn't sure whether it was a side-effect of my hangover or nerves.

My name is Gloria Walsh. I'm from the human resources at the Kerrigan Advertising Agency. I'm calling on behalf of the division director of art production. She has reviewed your application and resume and was wondering whether you are at liberty to come down to our offices for an interview today.

I smiled so wide it hurt. I would be happy to come down. What times are available?. I thought my heart would jump out of my chest as we scheduled my interview for just before lunch. I thanked her, hung up, then bounced and wiggled into the bedroom. I flopped onto my mattress and basked in the square of sunshine let in by the skylight.

Even though I couldn't know for sure what the interview would mean, I still felt, in the depths of my heart, that I was going to get the job and that nothing would go wrong.

It was a matter of hours before I found myself standing before the tall building where, hopefully, I'd be working soon. The revolving doors brought me into an imposing lobby, where marble columns formed an impressive arcade. Two security guards were posted in front of protected doors with key-card readers. I wondered what necessitated such high security, then I remembered that Kerrigan wasn't the only company in the building. There were also, no doubt, accounting or data entry offices that housed sensitive documents. I zeroed in on the wide reception desk, where a pleasant, plump woman sat smiling into the phone and nodding her head.

I waited patiently until her call concluded, then mentioned that I was there for a ten-thirty meeting on the fifteenth floor. After a moment on the phone, I was told to wait a few minutes while someone came down to get me.

Tugging down the lower hem of my dress, I wondered if it had been the right choice. The black business-casual dress hugged my curves a little too hard, but the puffed sleeves were cute and the hot-pink belt I wore over it showed I had at least a little bit of fashion sense. I wore pumps and black stockings along with it, which managed to attract the eye of every man walking through the lobby. The way they watched me, I almost felt attractive.

I had always been told I was too skinny by every woman in my family. I couldn't help that I had trouble gaining weight. Unfortunately, my boobs had missed the fat-burning memo during puberty and had grown to an almost ridiculous size. Some would say I was lucky, but it wasn't so lucky for my back. My bras wore out fast and, sometimes, had to be custom-made. In the house I usually just wore a sports bra because they were the most comfortable.

Buffer time like this always made me nervous. I fidgeted as my senses heightened. It was as though something was about to happen and my body knew it. I could smell an executive's coffee as he swiped his key-card in front of me. I got random itches. My clothes suddenly didn't fit.

A statuesque woman exited from one of the six elevators beyond the security barrier and smiled at me. She came through the door and held out her hand for me. Are you Ms. Caplan? she asked.

Do I stick out that bad? I shook her hand with a stupid grin on my face. I somehow couldn't get myself together. She must think I'm a mess.

You're the only one without a security badge or key-card, she said with a smile. I felt calmer after that. She introduced herself as Gloria—the one who'd spoken with me earlier.

We took the elevator up. It stopped several times, but the only stop I really remember, was the one that let him into the car.

Six-foot-sexy, he wore a black suit and a powder-blue collared shirt underneath. I noticed he didn't wear a tie, but instead the top two buttons of his shirt were unbuttoned casually. His gold and stainless-steel watch gleamed in the soft elevator light. I was impressed to see the Rolex branding across the top. If he owned a four-thousand-dollar watch, he was obviously a high-level exec. If he worked for Kerrigan, I might have to suck up to him in future.

He was stunningly handsome with his flaxen, expertly-styled locks, blond five-o-clock shadow and ice-blue eyes. He stepped in beside me and adjusted his cuffs. Then all of a sudden I could smell him. I bit my lip as my eyes drifted closed. Leather, musk, and the pungent but pleasant aroma of expensive shaving lotion. My body temperature rose a few degrees when more people entered the elevator and forced us in closer together. His toned arms pressed against my shoulder and side.

I wondered if he was a model going up to meet someone in the agency. That would have made perfect sense, but he didn't get off on any of the four floors leading to my destination. Instead, he, Gloria and I got off on the fifteenth in tandem. We walked down the hall together and stopped before a door. It was odd that he hadn't stepped off in his own direction. I began to worry.

We stepped into a small waiting area, where a secretary's desk stood against the right wall. An older woman sat behind the desk, loading her desk file-drawer with folders. With her piercing gray eyes and all-gray bob-cut, there was no nonsense about her. I was glad I didn't have to talk to her; I was afraid she could have bitten my head off.

"Wait here a moment, I'll be right