Mr. Important…

So now… my problem…

And I do have one.

Men in authority. Oh dear god… They are a BIG problem for me. I get a little distracted by the power that oozes from their very pores. I find myself responding at the most inappropriate times.

In real life, I am completely unimportant… but due to the vagaries of serendipity, sometimes I find myself in places where there are people who have some *real* power. Power leaves its stamp on a man. It is quite a magical thing. It is in every subconscious gesture. They are used to being listened to and obeyed to the extent that they don’t even think you might balk.

More often than not, these men aren’t the most attractive- they are usually past the positions that you can skate to on looks alone. They are hard working, political, driven animals. Dear GOD! They are men.

I had the amazing fortune to have a meeting with such a person and one of his subordinates a few months back. I had heard him speak, and had finagled a meeting some months later. To see him, he was ordinary looking. Older, of course. About to make a change in his career. Very blunt spoken. Swore far more than I was expecting. Said some of the most intellectually captivating things I have heard in some time. Obviously, there was nothing at all sexual about this meeting. It probably never even occurred to him that he might be having the effect on me that he did…

But dear god, he DID! While 75% of my mind was fully engaged in the professional, the other 25% was a gerbil running on the ball of erotic possibility. How I could service him… How I could please him. How could I please him and his subordinate… would the coffee table hold my weight so they could use me better?

As I considered his words, I wondered if he fucked as masterfully as he did everything else? What would his hands feel like on me? Was there any part of him that found me attractive? Did he realise I was sitting there in a state of quasi arousal? Would he have cared? Had he had the opportunity, would he have bent me over his desk, lifted my skirt, grabbed me by the hair and plunged himself into my ever so willing body? Would a man who had seen and done the things he had like it vanilla? Or did he have a dark, dangerous or kinky side? Would he cum in me….? Would I even be worthy of taking his gift?

I objectified him terribly but in the most flattering way possible. Are women allowed to do this? I wonder what he would think if he knew? Even writing this, I have his words in my head- words that rang so many of my other ‘real-life’ bells.

I wonder if he knew he could have had me… I wonder if he would have even cared…

I doubt we will ever cross paths again, but would be damn exciting if we did. Somewhere… in a hotel bar… in a dark corner… where anything could happen…

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