Necessity is the Mother of Obsession Ch. 01

Author's note: This is my first attempt in the Erotic Couplings genre. My other attempts all seem to have devolved into Romance. I suppose this could be, too. This is Part 1 of a 5-part story arc. Like most of my stories, it starts with character background. It also contains small elements of B&D. Please vote/comment. Consider it like applause. It's how I know whether I'm pleasing my audience. Enjoy...

* * * * *

Friday Afternoon

"You have got to be fucking kidding me!"

John was not a happy camper. As a Regional VP, he was not used to being told what he could and could not do.

"Since when do they need a Regional VP to fly out there to have a face-to-face?"

He listened, fuming, as the situation was explained to him over the phone.

"Fine. Set it up for Tuesday. I'll get a flight out Sunday or Monday. Have Joan briefed and ready to assist."

"What do you mean, she's on maternity leave?"

"I know it happens! Fuck... Okay, I'll deal with it. I'll call you Monday morning."

"Goodbye." he slammed down the phone and yelled "Karen!"

An attractive young woman in a conservative blazer and skirt immediately stepped into his office.

"I need a flight to Vegas Sunday," he told her.

"All set, sir," she told him, stepping forward and handing him an envelope. "Sunday afternoon out of Orange County, suite at the MGM Grand Signature - I'm sorry, I could only get a 2-bedroom suite - and a standard rental from Hertz, sir."

John looked at her for a long moment.

"How do you do that?" he asked. "I didn't even tell you what I needed."

"I'm your Personal Assistant, sir," she told him. "It was my job to screen the call and only pass it through to you if it was critical."

John nodded. That made sense. "Do you know about Joan, too?" he asked.

"No, sir?" she answered. "Is there a problem?"

"She's on maternity leave."

"Oh. I'm sorry to hear that, sir. That will make things difficult."

"Yeah, it will. Thanks, Karen, you can go. Close the door, please." He returned to his desk and sat down as she left, closing the door behind her.

Now where the hell am I going to find someone with all the dirt on the Morton merger? he thought as he put his head in his hands. God, the timing sucks...

* * * * *

If Ms. Bertram isn't available, Karen thought at her desk, Mr. Thompson is going to need all the background he can get. Let's see what I can do...

She set about doing exactly that. She didn't have much time, given that it was Friday afternoon, but by 4 o'clock she had a thumb drive with everything she could dig up in her hand as she knocked on her boss' door.

"Come!" he called out, and she entered.

"Sir," she told him, "I've put everything I could dig up on the Morton merger on this thumb drive for you. I hope it helps."

He looked at her for another long moment, amazed at her efficiency... and had an epiphany.

"Karen, would you be free to go with me to Vegas next week? With Joan out of the picture, I'm going to need a competent assistant, and you seem pretty on-the-ball about this stuff."

Would I be free for a trip to Vegas? she mused, surprised at the offer. Let's see... currently dumped by boyfriend number 5, massively depressed, more time on my hands than I know what to do with... sure! Why not?

"I'm available, sir," she told him.

"Good. Then rebook the flight to get two seats together. We're going to have a lot to talk about. You can use the second bedroom in the suite and we'll share the car."

"Um, sir..." She sounded hesitant. "You usually fly First Class."

"Right," he agreed. "Get two seats together."

"Yes, sir," she nodded then waited for his nod, indicating she was dismissed. She went back to her desk to start changing the flights.

First Class to Vegas... Wow, she mused. That's a first...

* * * * *

Sunday Midday

They next met at the gate for their flight. John was surprised to see Karen in a flowery sundress, so unlike her normal business attire. He had to admit, she wore it well. It accentuated curves he hadn't realized she'd had, and which he actually found exciting. But he reminded himself this was business.

"I'm sorry, sir," she told him as he approached her. "This is the best I could do on short notice. We have a plane change in Phoenix, as I'm sure you've noticed." She was trying to concentrate on the details. Otherwise, her nethers were going to take over.

John was dressed casually, something she'd rarely seen. Only on corporate golf-outing days. Now he was in a Ralph Lauren shirt and slacks combo, black loafers and vintage Serengeti sunglasses, and they all made him look hot. Distractingly hot.

"We're good, Karen, thanks," he told her as he set down his backpack. "We won't get as much time to talk about Tuesday in-flight, but maybe we can make it up, if you'll let me take you to dinner this evening."

"Whatever you wish, sir," she'd answered. "I did some more digging this weekend," she went on. "I've got background bio information for you on all the major players. Particularly Robert Mills and his son, William. They are the ones who seem to be the biggest obstacles."

"You spent your day off digging up dirt on the Mills family?" he asked, surprised and a bit curious.

"Yes, sir," she told him. "I wanted to maximize your chances for success."

Like I had anything else to do, she thought to herself. Mope around the apartment, get drunk and jill off... or do something useful for Mr. Thompson and hope to be invited on more trips. Well, duh...

Smart, attractive, no ring... hmmm. Why haven't I noticed her before? John thought as he looked at her. I wonder which way her tastes run... oh, well, this trip is about steamrollering the Mills and pushing the merger through. Looks like Karen is going to be a major asset.

Their flight was called and with First Class boarding, Karen had no problem finding overhead space for her roll-aboard. John pulled out his tablet and stuffed his backpack in the overhead as well. Then it was settle in, enjoy the free drinks and wait for takeoff.

John was handling last minute emails and texts on his Droid, while Karen was doing the same. There wasn't much conversation until they were airborne.

"Do you have much baggage?" John asked conversationally as he slipped his shoes off and stretched back.

"One checked bag, sir," Karen told him, eyeing his trim, well-kept body as he unwound like some great hunting cat, and trying to stay detached.

"Okay, same for me," he told her. "We'll get our bags and the car and head straight to the hotel. But once we're settled, I want to go out shopping. If I remember right, there's a kitchenette and I hate room service and overpriced restaurants. So, since you were nice enough to score a kitchen, I'd like to stock up for the week. You're welcome to join me, of course. Oh... and unless we're with clients or coworkers, don't call me 'sir.' Call me John. 'Sir' is my father."

"Yes, sir," she replied automatically, then caught herself. "I mean, yes, John. And thank you. If you'd like, I can cook."

"Maybe we'll share," he smiled and it went straight to her groin. "Ms. O'Reilly..."

Girl, get a grip! she chided herself. He's your boss. You never put all your eggs in one basket. Besides, he's just being friendly. Just keep earning it by covering his ass.

"But tonight, dinner's on me," he added. "Somewhere nice. Of course, on The Strip it's hard to find a place that isn't nice. Or expensive. But I think you're proving yourself worth it."

John, you know better, his conscience decided to chip in. You screwed up big with the divorce, every girl after that has been a disaster until Sharon, and you barely escaped that one without another huge settlement. You really need to keep it zipped.

I know, I know, he'd answered himself. If I needed a hook-up, Vegas has the pros. Pardon me if I'm suddenly realizing that the Personal Assistant I've been using for the last six months is a hottie.

Abusing is more like it, his conscience retorted. You take her for granted, she saves your ass every day, and you know nothing about her. You took her because H-R pushed her at you, after you scared away the one before her. Just because you've been screwed over multiple times doesn't mean all women are avaricious bitches.

Yeah, yeah, yeah... he tried to placate himself. It's just dinner. I'll be a gentleman.

Five and a half hours and one plane change later, John and Karen were picking up their bags and heading for their rental car.

* * * * *

Sunday Evening

"Ladies first," John smiled as he opened the door to the suite and stood aside. "You pick the bedroom you want, I'll take the other. It doesn't matter to me." Karen walked in, hauling her two bags with.

Wow... was her initial response. This is fancier than any hotel I've ever been in... She looked around and decided that the bed and bath immediately to her left as she entered would be just fine. She turned that way, dragging her bags.

"Okay," John told her retreating back, "then mine is on the other side of the living room area. See you in a few." He, his backpack and his one big roll-aboard headed that direction. A few minutes later, he returned, knocking softly on the door jamb to Karen's chosen room.

"Yes?" she asked, looking up from hanging the last of her clothes in the closet.

"Who knew?" John smiled as he entered.

"Who knew what, sir?" she asked, then mentally kicked herself. "I mean, who knew what, John?"

"Who knew that you had such a nice wardrobe?" he answered. "Very sexy. Much nicer than the suits you wear at the office."

"Oh, I brought a couple of suits," she hurried to defend herself. "For the meetings. I just figured, well, this is Vegas... maybe something a little nicer was in order?" She was suddenly very self-conscious.

"I agree," John told her, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. "And now that I've seen it, I think we'll have to see if we can give it some exercise while we're out here. Starting with, I think I'd like to take you to dinner in, oh, say... that green dress."

Karen fought the blush. He'd picked the one outrageously sexy dress she owned. She wasn't even sure why she'd brought it along. It was just, well, this was Vegas...

"For dinner, sir?" She didn't even bother correcting herself.

"Well, yes... and maybe a little dancing afterwards, if you'd enjoy that," he told her. "I really don't know you that well. You've been working for me for what? Six months? And doing a great job. I really haven't gotten to know you. Maybe I should. Starting with this trip, where we're away from any nasty office gossip."

Oh, my God... am I being hustled? she thought. He's suddenly being nice to me because we're sharing a room away from the office and he likes my dress? eep!

To his face, though, she said, "If that is what you would like... I'm really out of practice as a dance partner, but, well..."

"This is Vegas!" he smiled. "Let's do a quick shopping and then come back and get changed. Whenever you're ready..." and without waiting for her reply, he walked out of her room.

If he doesn't stop smiling at me, I'm going to soak through every pair of underwear I have, she thought. I'd better check on the Guest Laundry.

She finished putting her things away, did a quick tour of the living room and kitchen to get familiar with them, and went to meet him at the entryway. As smooth as if they'd rehearsed it a thousand times, they retrieved their car and went grocery hunting. John surprised Karen by driving to a local Wal-Mart. He surprised her even more with his selection of foods. He was shopping more like a suburban Dad than a High-Powered Executive. He even consulted her about what things she might like and actually listened.

Apparently, John had also inventoried the kitchen, because he decided there were some cooking utensils he wanted. "I'll just donate them when we leave," he explained.

Loaded up with food, beverages and sundries, they went back to the hotel and sorted it all away.

"Each bedroom has its own bath, so I'm going to grab a shower and get ready," he told her as they finished. "I'm going to set up my office in my bedroom, so come and get me when you're ready."

She acknowledged his instructions with a nod and a smile and went to get cleaned up and dressed. And ran into her first crisis.

How sexy do I want to be? she thought, looking at her naked body in the full length mirror. I'm not shabby by any means. And if he wants me in the green dress, I guess I forego the bra. That beauty has major plunge and no back. But that's okay, my tits are firm enough... and small enough not to fall out.

Thong? Probably. But panties that could handle getting wet would be better. I'm so damned attracted to him, I'm going to be soaking. No, skip the thong. Go French cut. Risk not using a pad. Maybe a tampon if it gets too bad. And maybe pantyhose. Or not. Right now, it's kind of too bad I'm a stockings and garters kind of girl. The hotel gift shop should have pantyhose. Open-toed 5" CFM's... no, he said dancing. Something a little more sensible, to be on all night. Maybe 3" open-toed with a strap...

Such was her anxiety as she painstakingly selected her evening's wear. She went so far as to call the concierge and ask how one went about getting a pair of pantyhose. He asked what size and what color, and four minutes later, they were delivered, compliments of the hotel.

That confused John a bit when he answered the door and received them, but soon she was ready. The emerald green dress to go with her eyes and natural light auburn hair; no bra because the dress plunged to her waist and had an open back; French cut panties and nude pantyhose; 3" white stilettos; and faux diamond stud earrings with a simple necklace to match. Actually, the cubic zirconia looked even better than real diamonds, because they sparkled more. One last primp in the mirror, a check of her makeup and "flirtatious" smile, and she went out to meet John.

She was greeted by a low whistle. It must have been instinctive because he quickly caught himself and stopped, offering an apology.

"Sorry about the crude... you look great," he told her as he stood up from the couch. "Fantastic."

Yeah, speaking of fantastic, she thought as she looked at him. This is your boss. This is your boss. This is your very hot looking, melt-your-heart boss. He hadn't changed his outfit much... a simple shirt and slacks that fit him like a male fashion model, the loafers and a light linen jacket. The three open buttons on the shirt were a tease, but he was supposed to look good. He was supposed to be an Alpha Male.

"Shall we go?" he asked, offering his arm.

"Um... where are we going?" she asked, picking up her purse and taking his arm. She knew enough to at least do that.

"Well, dinner is simple," he explained as they walked to the elevator. "I thought Tom Colicchio's would be a good place to start." To her blank stare, he added, "your basic steakhouse."

This is not 'basic' anything, she thought at dinner. This is overwhelming.

Maine Lobster Bisque, a 10 oz. Filet Mignon, Asparagus and Wild Mushrooms. That is what she had finally settled on, wondering how the hell she was going to pay for it before she remembered it was on Mr. Thompson's tab. Then she decided to stop feeling guilty. She did ask for a to-go bag for the leftovers and had it sent to the room. She didn't want to fill up too much if they were going dancing.

She had surprised him when she stuck to lemonade during dinner. When he'd asked if she was a teetotaler, she'd told him no, that she occasionally imbibed, but she needed to keep it well within moderation, because if she got going... well, there'd been some embarrassing incidents back in college and such. He just smiled and nodded his understanding.

When it was time to leave, he took care of the bill and when she asked where they were going, he suggested a little Voodoo. He couldn't resist teasing her.

"The VooDoo Rooftop Nightclub and Lounge," he explained. "A little less crowded and a lot more comfortable than a lot of the high-end dance clubs on the strip. You'll love it."

She did love it. It was atop the Rio, just off the Strip, and had incredible views of the city and an open-air veranda where the cool desert breeze was great for a refreshing break between dances. The DJ did a lot of retro music, right up her alley, and she was told it wasn't nearly as crowded as other clubs.

The drinks were rather potent, though, and even with dancing them off, she was a bit looped by the time she and John decided to call it quits and head back to the hotel. She was kind of glad that the concept of a slow song was foreign to the DJ. She was getting more and more turned on by her boss and he didn't seem to be doing anything to discourage it. She was a little afraid of what might happen if he actually held her in his arms.

For his part, he was enjoying the hell out of her. She wasn't complicated, or conniving, or egotistical at all. She was just plain fun. And damned attractive. He was pretty sure she had no idea how good she looked. The shit was going to hit the fan on Tuesday, but until then he didn't see any reason she shouldn't enjoy herself. He liked watching her be happy.

Why didn't I notice her before? he wondered. Six months sitting outside my office, running errands and interference. I guess she was just really good at her job and at being invisible. Well, she's going to get noticed now.

On the walk back, she got a little chilly - he figured from working up a "glow" dancing - so he put his jacket over her shoulders... and she shivered a little more. But just for a moment. He had no way of knowing it was because of his touch. Because of the thrill that ran through her that her body refused to ignore. When they got to the hotel, instead of heading for the elevators, he turned her slightly and steered them to The Lounge, where he secured a table in a quiet corner and ordered a carafe of wine.

"You know, Karen, you've been doing an outstanding job for me for the last six months," he told her as the drinks arrived. "And the reason I know it's outstanding is, I haven't had to yell at you once."

That's a strange criterion, she thought. Why would he have to yell at me?

"Your predecessor screwed things up for me on a regular basis," he went on. "From travel plans, to meeting schedules, to correspondence... you name it. And I was constantly having to correct her. She could take a tense situation and turn it into a train wreck. But you... you just do your job quietly and efficiently, and I don't have to correct you at all."

So that's why he might have to yell at me, she thought. Note to self: don't give him a reason.

"You are, in a word, invisible," he smiled. "Which is unfortunate, because it has deprived me of appreciating just how attractive you are. A valuable asset with grace and charm. I'm starting to consider myself a fairly lucky man."

Don't lay on the compliments too much, or I'm going to start blushing, she thought as she sipped her drink.

"So are you enjoying yourself?" he asked, and she realized she had to answer.

She felt a little fuzzy around the edges. She wasn't used to drinking like this, although it seemed to be the National Pastime of Las Vegas. She knew she was warm, and happy, and horny as all hell. Only her iron will was keeping her from making a pass at the man who held her professional career in his hands.