The Deep End

In fact, she didn’t recall, when her mother lived in town, talking this much about the weather, her cousin Martha’s hospital visits, her stepfather’s diabetes or people she’d never met. Before the move to Florida, they’d meet for tea and sandwiches on Sunday, or Grace would pop out for a long lunch so they could browse for nail polish at the mall. The conversation was light and Grace enjoyed the company.

Now the weekly conversation was just another obligation, and Grace spent the entire call looking for those cues that it was coming to an end. She called from her desk these days, knowing that Edwina wouldn’t delay her if she knew Grace hadn’t eaten or was at the end of a thirteen-hour day. When she hung up, the guilt would be heavy in her gut and she’d commit herself to showing more enthusiasm the next time she talked to Edwina. But she would still be glad it was over.

‘The next time you come down, I’ll get you to bring me some of those caramel cakes I used to get,’ Edwina said, and Grace closed her eyes to suppress a moan. She knew what was coming next.

‘I can mail them to you,’ she replied, and pushed her shoulders into the back of her seat. ‘They’ll be there in a week.’

‘No, I don’t want you to waste your money on postage.’

‘It’s fine. I’ll pick them up the next time I get groceries.’

‘I didn’t think you went grocery shopping anymore. The last time we were up your fridge was bare.’

‘Mom, stop.’

Grace didn’t need the reminder. Her fridge was bare most of the time. Her diet consisted of whatever could be found on the worn takeout menus from the break room and her fruit intake came entirely from the waxy pickings that collected dust at the café in the lobby. Every so often she’d get ambitious enough to have a cooking day, but whatever she made would be forgotten until she discovered some frost-caked plastic container in her fridge freezer.

‘You’re not drinking too much, are you?’

‘Mom, stop talking like I’m an alcoholic.’ She’d never be allowed to forget the presence of that quart of raspberry vodka in a fridge without milk or bread. ‘I don’t have time to be a drunk.’

‘Life isn’t all work, Gracie. You should get yourself a slow cooker –’

‘And I’d have to get up an hour early to cook.’

‘I’m just worried about you, that’s all.’ Edwina sounded defeated, and Grace got to her feet, trying to banish the thought that she was a horrible daughter.

‘I know you are, but I’m fine.’

‘Fine is what you tell people when you feel like shit.’

‘Mom –’

‘You should at least try and meet someone. It makes a huge difference when you have a warm body waiting for you when you get home.’

‘I really don’t want to discuss warm bodies with you,’ Grace said, and thought about shutting her mother up with details of the warm body she’d enjoyed earlier that day. ‘When did you develop such an interest in my social life, anyway? When you lived here you used to growl at me about having too big a social life.’

‘There’s a difference between being twenty years old and partying every night, and being thirty and spending all hours of the day at your desk. Have you tried that online dating?’

‘All right, I’m hanging up now.’ She couldn’t help laughing at her mother. It was like she was reading for the part of meddling mother in a romantic comedy. Maybe that’s what you became as you got older: a stock character.

‘I’ll give you a call next week?’ Grace asked. ‘I’ll mail you the caramel cakes next week, and I don’t want to hear anything about the postage.’

She disconnected but stayed sitting at her desk, turning her can of diet soda back and forth, until the guilt passed. Then she headed towards the boardroom.

If it hadn’t been Friday, Grace would have left the boardroom mess until the morning and been on the road with drive-thru and sleep on the agenda. Because the hard work was over for now, and because she was alone on the thirteenth floor, she took a moment to herself.

The acquisition was successful. Breton-Craig was now a part of Taureau-Werner.

She slipped off her shoes and wriggled her toes into the expensive carpet, popped the top two buttons of her blouse, then sank back into the leather chair at the head of the conference table. All that was missing was a bottle of wine.

No doubt there were a few stragglers somewhere in the building trying to make a deadline, but aside from the cleaning crew and security she was alone. Especially on the thirteenth floor, the executive floor, where there was no one.

The view of the city skyline was ethereal, bringing to mind Zeus and his kin looking down on earth from Olympus. It was easy to imagine that the small world below could be so easily manipulated by a whim from above, that she could reach out and nudge a building out of the way to enhance her view.

She remained there overlooking creation for what seemed like hours, until something as common as the water cooler gurgling brought her back. It was a hateful intrusion, a reminder that she was no goddess and there was no real peace to be found in the Taureau-Werner building.

Grace didn’t dwell on it. She’d heard enough whining from the rest of the staff during the day; she didn’t want to hear it in her head when she had all this before her at the end of the day.

You’re tired. You’re cranky. You need sleep. Tomorrow, everything will look less grey.

She rose and stretched. Joints popped, and a yawn crawled up her throat. She went around the table and collected empty coffee cups and soiled napkins, wiped crumbs away and set all the chairs in perfect formation.

As she reached for the OFF button on the projector at the centre of the table, the room lit up. Reflected on the screen at the end of the table, the laptop had come out of sleep mode. The text on the screen informed her that a call was coming in from JAT: Jacques Alain Taureau.

For a moment, she was unsure whether to answer. There was no reason for him to be calling now. It had been Taureau who had adjourned the meeting.

Just the thought of Taureau made her nervous. She’d been telling the Breton-Craig man the truth: she never had any personal contact with him, and to her knowledge he never left his house in rural Quebec.

Though she wasn’t one for sharing gossip, Grace couldn’t help but absorb it when in earshot. There were so many stories out there. She’d heard from some that his face was like Frankenstein’s monster’s, while others said that he had had extensive plastic surgery to fix the damage.

He’d called in to the afternoon meeting with voice only. He was calling her now with full video.

After a moment, he disconnected and Grace exhaled.

It had just been a mistake, maybe a slip of a finger. Yet as she moved to the conference console the screen lit up with the words JAT INCOMING VIDEO CALL.

She quickly turned the lights back on, and then pressed the receiver button.

It took a moment to make out shape from shadow. A man was in near-darkness, sitting partially off-camera. All that was revealed to her was a broad arm and shoulder, an ear surrounded by dark hair that curled around a wide neck, the corner of a mouth, and one heavy-lidded dark eye.

Grace straightened and smiled. ‘Good evening, Mr Taureau.’

He said nothing, and a prickle ran across her neck. Taureau’s one-eyed gaze was so intense she didn’t feel the need to speak again. She knew that he heard her.

‘Miss Neely, isn’t it?’

Grace nodded. ‘Mr Caroway’s assistant. I’m afraid everyone’s gone home.’

‘Everyone but you.’

She couldn’t tell whether he was being sarcastic or was merely amused. Taureau rarely spoke, but when he did it was a startling experience. She’d seen video clips of him in his youth. He’d had a silky voice with that fluid French-Canadian accent. Now, with apparent damage to his vocal cords, his voice was like the kind of smoke found in an anonymous bar, equal parts seductive and menacing.

Tucking her hands behind her back, she offered him a bright smile. ‘I’m just finishing up.’

‘Don’t you have somewhere else to be?’

Without the benefit of his expression, Grace couldn’t tell whether he was being sarcastic. She didn’t care for the question. She’d already had her weekly reminder of the lack of social intercourse in her life. Still, she didn’t falter. ‘It’s been a month of long nights. I was just about to be on my way.’

He moved slightly, enough to reveal the scar beneath this eye. Of all the rumours she’d heard, this was a fact: he had been left with scars as a gruesome memorial of what had happened to him.

‘I’ve seen you here late before, alone. Almost every night I see you in this office, but it doesn’t seem like a burden to you like it does with others.’

‘This is a demanding job, sir. If I didn’t –’

‘You seem to thrive on it, though. The more pressed you are to perform, the happier you seem.’

Grace couldn’t loosen her tongue. Her thoughts buzzed inside her head, impossibilities shifting from ghostly and translucent to solid and real. Here she was having a casual conversation with an enigma, and he was telling her that he had been watching her.

The tips of her fingers tingled, and then went numb with cold shock.

He’s seen everything.

Still, she kept smiling as he went on.

‘You’re not married.’ It was a statement, not a question.

She shrugged. ‘I prefer my independence.’

‘As do I. Some people just don’t get it, do they? Like the mother you were talking to earlier. She doesn’t understand why someone would choose to be alone.’

‘I don’t –’ She caught herself before she could tell him she didn’t choose to be alone. She simply was alone, because that was the life she had made. She had very few regrets, and when she did they were fleeting.

‘I have people in my life like that,’ he said, and laughed. It was a cynical sound he seemed to cover up after a moment. ‘Though I suppose it would be absurd to compare our situations, wouldn’t it? There’s a big difference between thriving on constant activity like you do and … well, me. Still, there’s something to be said for solitude, isn’t there, Miss Neely?’

‘Is that why you called in tonight?’ she asked, sure her voice shook a little as she did.

‘Are you asking if I’m looking for someone to validate my disdain for being alone? Am I so lonely I’d watch you like some horror-movie stalker? No, and there’s no need to be defensive, though I can hardly blame you after what I’ve seen. You’re often here alone, but sometimes you’re not alone.’

A cold chill settled in every bone. Grace sucked in a deep breath to steady herself. She let the smile go, but held her chin high.

So this is it. This is the moment when all those sinful little indiscretions are laid out before her. She’d always worried it would happen, but she could never have imagined Jacques Alain Taureau would be the one she’d be exposed to.

After a moment, she said, ‘Mr Taureau, sir, am I fired?’

‘Something else we have in common,’ Taureau went on, his tone as cool as ever. ‘I like discretion. I like control. I like knowing that once we’ve both gotten what we want, there’ll be no complications to follow.’

She couldn’t deny that his outlook mirrored hers, but it bothered her that it had been so obvious to him.

‘May I ask you something?’ she asked.

‘Please.’

‘Do you have cameras everywhere?’

‘I do, but not the CCTV monitored by security. My own.’

‘With sound.’

The corner of his eye crinkled. What she could see of his mouth twitched. Was that a smile? She couldn’t tell, and his voice betrayed no emotion, let alone amusement.

‘No one knows about it but me and a few trusted acquaintances.’

‘And me.’

‘But you’re not going to tell anyone.’

There it was: the challenge. She wasn’t going to reveal his secret and she knew it.

‘No, I’m not.’

‘Why not?’

She crossed her arms over her chest. ‘For one, I understand your reasons. It’s not enough to keep your enemies close. You want to be able to manipulate them and if you know their secrets, you can pre-empt any moves against you.’

‘And for another?’

She began moving around the table. ‘Because I’m not stupid, Mr Taureau. I assume you put the cameras here in October when the room was being renovated. You’ve seen me with about five different men in this office.’

She could have sworn that smile got wider. He moved, his elbow now on the arm of the chair and his fingers against his temple. ‘Six men, actually. Not to mention the three times you sucked off John Stamp at his desk when you had your Christmas fling.’

Grace stopped at the head of the table and leaned back. Inside, she was spiralling. Outside, she matched his composure. ‘You are thorough.’

‘So are you, in more ways than one.’

She curled her fingers around the edge of the table. ‘Am I fired?’

‘What was his name? The last one, the one in Caroway’s office today.’

‘Sir, I’d like an answer to my question.’

‘You’re very formal. It’s like an on-and-off switch. I think you’re trying to take control away from me, like you do with your lovers.’ His chair squeaked as he leaned back. Still, he remained hidden in shadow. ‘No, you’re not fired. Not if you tell me his name.’

‘I don’t think –’

The room filled with a chaotic sound: a woman moaning, panting, urging.

‘You are hungry for a cock, aren’t you?’

Grace couldn’t breathe as she stared at the man in shadow and listened to the grainy voice of her man from Breton-Craig, and then her own.

‘You want to watch me rub my pussy while you fuck me?’

‘Spread you open and keep you wet like this all night long.’

‘Oh, fuck … just a little more …’

The sound cut off.

‘His name.’

If she couldn’t remember before, there was no way she’d think of it now. Her brain was fried. She no longer felt cold; she was on fire.

It was another moment before her tongue loosened. ‘I don’t know, I can’t remember. He’s an executive with Breton-Craig. We flirted at dinner last night.’

‘Did you fuck him last night or did you wait until this afternoon?’

Though she was beginning to feel cornered, she refused to give up her composure. She spoke matter-of-factly. ‘No. He was drunk by the end of the night, and I needed to be here at seven o’clock.’

‘Did you want to last night?’

Grace nodded. ‘Yes, I did.’

He said nothing, and she was fraught with turmoil. Taureau had been right; the need for control gnawed at her. She took the opportunity in his silence to try and gain some semblance of an upper hand.

She gripped the edge of the table. ‘Is this the real reason you rang me tonight? You want the filthy details?’

‘I don’t need filthy details. I’ve seen them with my own eyes. No, I was curious. At one point in the video from today you looked right at the camera. I wanted to find out whether you were that clever and knew you were being watched.’

He moved again, this time to reveal a little more of his face. He had a strong chin dappled with whiskers and a wide mouth. The burgundy shirt he wore was unbuttoned partway to reveal a lightly furred chest. Just the slightest hint of a naked body gave her a thrill she had to suppress.

‘How do you feel about being watched? Be honest with me.’

‘How do you know I’d be telling you the truth when my livelihood is hanging in the balance?’

‘Is it? I thought we’d settled this when you admitted you didn’t know his name. Miss Neely, I’m not firing you. Now please, tell me how you feel about being watched.’

She had the urge to avert her gaze as a shiver teased between her shoulder blades. Indeed, when she made her connections at the office there was always the thrill of being caught, but that thrill only shimmered through her as she and her lover secreted themselves away. She wasn’t doing it because of any penchant for being watched.

‘I’ve never thought about it until tonight,’ she said honestly. ‘It’s never been my fantasy.’

‘Anonymous sex is your fantasy.’

‘It’s not anonymous,’ she insisted, then laughed at herself. ‘It’s not entirely anonymous. I do get their names most of the time.’

‘That’s more than I can say about my own activities these days, Miss Neely.’ Taureau chuckled, a low sound that surrounded her. ‘You’re evading my question again. Now that you know you’ve been watched all this time, how do you feel?’

‘Hot.’ His mouth twitched as the admission raced electric through her veins. ‘I would feel different if I found out there was a security guard jerking off somewhere, or if I caught someone peeking through a crack in the door.’

‘You’ve been lucky. No one’s caught on yet.’

‘But you have, and now that I know you’ve seen everything …’ She darted her gaze from side to side, wondering if he could see the slight movement as she pressed her thighs together. ‘You must know that’s one hell of a fantasy you’re peddling: a rich, brooding stranger watching me from the shadows while I’m bent over a table or a desk with a hard cock pounding between my legs.’

A sharp hissing sound came from the speakers. Grace couldn’t help smiling.

‘Is that what you needed to hear so you won’t feel like a pervert the next time you’re rubbing out while watching me?’

‘There you go again, trying to get control from me. One would think you like to be in charge, but we both know that’s not true. You like to be pushed around a little. You like to be told what to do.’

Regardless of how many miles separated them, Grace still felt the shift. It rushed up around her, leaving her light-headed as arousal weighed her down.

‘It’s late,’ she said quietly. ‘If you have no more questions for me, I should be on my way.’

‘I’m not quite ready to say good night yet,’ he answered quickly. ‘I enjoy talking to you. Too many people tell me what I want to hear, and apologise when I question them. You’re quite fearless.’

Taureau went silent. On the screen she could see the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. When the pulse stopped, when he held his breath, so did she.

Something was about to happen. Even if she could think clearly, she doubted whether she could imagine what it might be, but whatever it was she was more than ready for it.

He moved again, withdrawing further into shadow. ‘I want you to ask me again if there’s anything you can do for me, Miss Neely.’

‘Mr Taureau,’ she said, but had a hard time accepting that the sultry voice she heard was actually hers, ‘is there anything I can do for you?’

The silence stretched on and on as the warmth flowed. A faint current went through her abdomen.

Finally, Taureau said, ‘Show me your garters.’

‘Yes, Mr Taureau.’

She thanked years of being able to stay focused under pressure for the steadiness in her voice and in her hands as she reached down, even as her heart began to drum a little faster.

Her gaze fixed on the screen, Grace worked the skirt up, tugging one side at a time until the hem brushed the tops of her stockings.

Taureau remained unmoving, his half-smile turning up the corner of his mouth. His dark sorcerer’s eyes seemed to look inside her.

When she had revealed just an inch of the garter, she stopped.

‘Turn around. Keep going.’

Grace obeyed. She wished she could see what he saw as she worked her skirt up around her waist. She could only imagine: black stockings, the creamy skin above bisected by the garters, her ass bare save for the skinny thong she wore.

When she was exposed to him, she looked over her shoulder. ‘Is there anything else, sir?’

‘One hand on the table. Touch yourself with the other.’

The fever inside her built, moving like a match to gasoline. Her face was on fire. She worked hard to draw a breath in and out.

Grace bent forward, hand flat on the surface of the conference table. Looking straight ahead, she was faced with the same skyline she had been admiring only minutes ago. The pink hues that had streaked across the sky had gone translucent and the moonlight bled through.

Goose flesh rose on her arms and legs. A thrill went up her spine. She knew even before she slipped her hand between her legs that she would find her panties soaked through.

‘Mr Taureau,’ she said in a murmur as she slid her fingers along the outline of her pussy, ‘tell me what I can do for you.’

An intake of breath preceded his words. The moment seemed to go on and on in silence as she stroked herself, her heart drumming faster and louder while she waited.

Finally: ‘Come for me.’

She couldn’t stop the moan that slipped over her lips and dissipated into the quiet. Closing her heavy lids so the panorama before her became a smudge, Grace ran her finger up and down. Her juices seeped through the thin lace barrier, wetting her fingertips.

The world was surreal to her. It was as though she was participating in something that shouldn’t be: caught at last taking her pleasure at work, ensnared by the mythical Taureau himself in this wicked game.

‘Spread yourself a little more for me.’

‘Yes, Mr Taureau.’ She could barely get the words around her thick, useless tongue. She gave up on it and pressed the tip to the roof of her mouth. Placing her feet wider apart, she lifted her ass and rubbed herself through her panties.

With every moment she grew wetter and hotter. Desperation was beginning to set in. The pressure against her clit wasn’t enough. Without waiting for his directive, Grace slipped her fingers beneath the band of fabric and delved into the wet heat she found.

All around was his heavy breathing and the unmistakable sound of shifting clothes. ‘Stop. Turn around.’

Her knees were weak as she pushed herself upright. She said a prayer in her head that he wouldn’t draw out her pleasure or, worse, deny it. Now that she was under his spell, she would do what he asked.

Facing the screen, Grace gritted her teeth at the sight of him now. He had moved the computer, the camera, whatever it was he used. In addition to his hard mouth and strong chin, she now discovered him shirtless with his pants bunched at his knees. His cock was delectably thick and long, the smooth underside meeting an inflamed crown, the tip shining with precome.

‘Tell me,’ she said, her voice cracking as she watched him tug the skin along the shaft, ‘tell me what you want me to do.’

‘Strip down to only the garters and stockings.’

Her hands shaking and her fingers almost useless, she fumbled to shuck off her blouse and skirt. It seemed like she’d never free herself of her bra. She sighed with relief as the garment finally gave way and the straps slid down her shoulders.

The sound of his breath came in hard, static spurts. That almost-smile was back on his mouth. His hand slowly worked the thick-veined column he held in his palm.

Finally, he spoke. ‘On the table. Lie back and spread for me.’

She obeyed and perched on the edge of the table, then leaned backwards and propped herself on her elbows. Dragging the soles of her shoes across the polished surface, she drew her knees close to her and spread them as far apart as she could.

‘Like this?’

He grunted, and the rhythm of his hand picked up pace. ‘Show me.’

Grace’s words came out as a whisper. ‘Yes, Mr Taureau.’

She ran her hand from the hollow of her throat, scraping her fingernails over her breastbone, between her breasts, and lower, lower, lower until the tips of her fingers met slick flesh.

Teasing herself, teasing him, she ran the pad of her middle finger back and forth over the soft hood covering her clit. It was a technique she had never used when performing for a lover. This was hers alone, and she joyfully gave it to him.

As her finger worked and her clit swelled from its sheath, Grace chewed her bottom lip and watched his performance. Her mouth watered as she watched that big hand squeezing his dark cock.