By Odessa Piper
Patricia smiled at Ian as he drew her bath. The water spilling into her large bathtub was quiet, not some simple spout faucet that dumped water into the marble bath basin like an old pump. Her tub filled with the quiet sigh of a smooth waterfall faucet that filled her luxuriant bathroom with the sound of a gentle stream.
She was standing in her bathroom in her stockings, skirt, and a half-unbuttoned business shirt. Patricia curled her toes against the cool tile of her bathroom floor. The thin, sheer layer of fabric between her feet and the tile did nothing to hide its texture from her toes, the balls of her feet, or the edge of her nails. She enjoyed the sensation. But what she enjoyed more than that was watching Ian, cute little boytoy Ian, draw her bath for her. But more than that, even, was the fact that she liked Ian, not just his service, she liked the boy himself. That’s why she smiled that warm smile. That smile of genuine affection.
Ian couldn’t see her with his back turned, and so she allowed herself that brief moment of genuine affection, that brief moment of honest expression. He was such a good assistant. He had a perfect combination of self-serving ambition, educated competency, and of course, knowledge of his position. And Ian’s position? Patricia smiled, because Ian’s position was under her, and he knew it.
Figuratively, he was always under her. She owned the firm he worked for. She was his direct supervisor. His technical title was administrative assistant, but she always made sure he knew she thought of him as her secretary. Not because she wanted him to feel like less of a man, but because she wanted him to know she took pleasure in his service, pleasure in their relationship. An “administrative assistant” was always so distant and cold, boring and professional. But a “secretary”? That was personal, it was a relationship. It meant something more than just business.
As a secretary, it meant she could call on him as a personal confidant, as a kind of private counsel, who was far enough from any problem that concerned her that he could bring honest perspective. He was more than just an employee. And frequently, he was under her quite literally. Just like a good secretary should be. Which made Patricia smile.
Dutiful young Ian began drawing her bath without hesitation, the moment she asked. She had trained him well over the months, learned all his secrets. She knew how to press all his bullons if she needed. And she did enjoy pressing those bullons, especially because it made him all the more eager to do things like draw the bath.
Ian was a trim boy, sharp in mind and sharp in style. Black hair, and a clean beard groomed so precisely. He always wore three piece suits, and knew what colors looked best on him. Ian was the kind of boy that girls and other boys both dreamed of, but Patricia was the only woman who got to play with him. She was the only woman to was able to watch him draw her bath, with his shirt sleeves rolled up and his vest hugging that slender torso of his, and his slacks riding up just slightly as he knelt to test the water temperature.
“Is it almost ready, Ian?” Patricia asked.
Ian looked over his shoulder with a concerned expression, and didn’t answer right away. The look on his face was the same look Patricia remembered seeing on his face when she first met him. It always reminded her of a meerkat, and a startled one at that. It was cute, and charming, and made Patricia want to take advantage of him, but it also made her want to make something more out of him.
“Well?” Patricia asked again.
She folded her arms under her breasts and pulled her shoulders back to reveal more of her chest through her half-unbuttoned blouse. Teasing Mm was easy, almost too easy, but his reaction was worth it. A deep swallow and a brief moment with Ms lips pressed together. He didn’t hide his anxiety well, and it made Patricia want to smile. But with Ian looking at her, she had to smile her mean, dominant smile. Like she was staring down her cornered prey. Patricia lifted a sharp eyebrow and shifted her weight to emphasize the curve of her Mp under her slim skirt. Only then did she get an answer out of Ian.
“Yes, ma’am. Just checking the temperature.” Ian said, with his fingers splashing through the bathwater.
“Oh, Ian, I thought we talked about this…”
Patricia’s voice had a hint of chastisement in it, but also a bit of disappointment, and a hint of motherly authority. Affectionate, but demanding. She smirked at him, and focused her hard gaze on her lithe secretary boy toy. He froze, with his hand still in the bath.
“You don’t call me ‘ma’am’ remember? You call me ‘Mistress.’” Patricia said.
Ian swallowed and nodded again.
“Say it.” Patricia commanded.
“Yes, Mistress. I’m just checking the temperature.”
“Good boy. How is the temperature?”
“It’s hot, but not too hot.”
Ian stood and dried his hand with a small towel. Patricia could see the contours of the veins in his arms and on the backs of his hands. With his shirt sleeves cuffed above his elbows and that precisely tailored vest hugging his firm frame, he reminded Patricia of all the potential she had seen in him. He was still a boy, but in that moment, as he stood up from her bath, she could see the man she could turn him into. Patricia shifted her weight again and took a few moments to admire his body.
You can find the complete story here: