A Night on the Red Carpet

When the lights in the entryway of the office suite flicked on, I quickly pressed my hand over Layna's mouth to stifle her moans. With her pinned against the wall in the far corner of the main floor, legs wrapped around me, and my cock buried to the hilt in her, I nervously prayed there was enough darkness to conceal us from the unexpected intruder.

However, I was also a considerate lover. I continued to thrust slowly into Layna, allowing her to ride out her orgasm, our visitor notwithstanding. My generosity was not fully appreciated though. She bit down on my hand as pleasure continued to course through her. I had to stifle my own cry.

I turned my head to look back to see who had come into the office at almost ten o'clock at night. The cleaning crew had long since come and gone, which is why Layna and I felt comfortable enough running around the office naked before I caught her and pinned her to the wall.

Although the interloper was on the far side of the office floor, at least fifty yards from us, I could still make out who she was. It was Dana, the loyal and long-serving secretary of Bob Fitzgerald, the president of our company. As Dana was in her mid-fifties, I could only hope that her vision and hearing were poor.

I turned back to Layna, whose orgasm was lasting longer than usual, and her muffled moans seemed to be getting deeper and longer.

"Shh," I whispered quietly in her ear, then suckled on her earlobe to drive home my point. My attention on her sensitive lobe drew a muted squeak. Seemed I misjudged that one, but the sound she made was so hot it made my cock throb.

I turned back and saw Dana standing at her desk, apparently picking something up. Likely something Bob asked her to retrieve if she was back at the office this late. Whatever she came for, once she had it, she turned around and left, turning off the lights and locking up behind her. Dana gave no indication that she saw me and Layna.

"That was close," I said, relieved.

"That was incredible, Jake," Layna exhaled, her head back against the corner and her eyes closed. She was fully immersed in post-coital bliss. "Did you come yet?"

"Not yet," I replied. "I was close before Dana came in."

"Do you want me to finish you with my mouth, like that first time?" she asked teasingly.

"No," I answered. "I've got you right where I want you. I'm right where I want to be."

Layna and I were a couple now and had been for the past three months. Our relationship began after we were locked in my office due to a power outage while pulling an all-nighter. Though we had been hostile toward one another for a year leading up to that point, we ended up hate fucking one another that night. I still didn't fully understand what happened, or what changed. We didn't really talk about it. We just went with it and didn't look back.

With the fear of getting caught fucking in the office out of my head, I was able to refocus my full attention on the beautiful, leggy blonde in front of me. I ran my hands along Layna's smooth thighs and relished the content look on her face. When her eyelids fluttered open, she fixed me with those beautiful turquoise orbs and kissed me. That sent me over the edge. I pulsed into her, groaning as I filled her with my seed, while our tongues intertwined tenderly. We continued to kiss long after my climax ended, her soft lips always able to take me to heights I'd never experienced.

When I felt Layna's legs unwrap, I pulled out of her, cupping her ass until her feet touched down on the floor.

"That was different," she remarked, then added playfully, "What got into you? Are you going soft on me, pretty boy?"

"Don't flatter yourself, princess," I answered with a grin. "I was just looking to mix things up."

I knew what Layna was getting at. The sex tonight was different. Since the first time we'd been together, there was always an edge of aggression to our coupling. Our first time had been so hot, it seemed like we were always trying to recreate that magic. That was even more the case when we had sex in the office after everyone left, which didn't happen often.

Tonight, however, I wanted to take in everything about her, everything she gave to me. Once I had her up against the wall, I was patient. Unhurried. I savored her lips, her soft skin, and the feeling of her hands on me. Sensing the change in pace, Layna adjusted with me, her kisses slower, her touch more tender. It had all the passion I'd come to expect but with far more intimacy.

Despite my denial, Layna's comment about me going soft was probably spot-on. Four months ago, I wanted to strangle Layna Donovan. Now, though, I was falling for her. Hard. I'd never felt this way about anyone before.

"Well, I liked how you mixed it up," Layna said, smiling brightly as she wrapped her arms around my neck, and then gave me a slow, soft kiss. My heart skipped a beat. I never tired of the feel of her lips on mine.

Over the past three months, I had come to know the real Layna Donovan, and she blew me away. I'd always seen her outward beauty. It was impossible to miss her pretty face, striking eyes, silky blonde hair, dazzling smile, and killer body. Yet, as I got to know her, I came to appreciate that she was just as beautiful on the inside as she was on the outside.

It started with Layna and I teaming up at work. After we brought in Connor Adams to the agency--the quarterback who went number one overall in the NFL draft shortly after that fateful all-nighter--Layna and I agreed that we made a good team. We decided to invest in our partnership, sharing our strengths and resources with one another. She shared with me her process for identifying branding and image strategies, while I shared my strategy for targeting prospects and how I was so successful in convincing them to sign with me. We both shared our black books with one another, making introductions to contacts who could provide endorsement opportunities for our clients. Within a short time, Layna and I managed to bring in two new athletes and re-sign another two who were considering leaving. Together, we were unstoppable.

In working closely with her, I saw the side of Layna that I'd missed during her first year at the company, a period in which we didn't speak. Spending time with her, I learned that she was witty, playful, and generous with the people she let into her life. She liked sports, good food, and good wine. She could be a little crude, especially during sex, which I appreciated because I was really fucking crude, pretty much all the time. She also had a soft side to her. She liked to cuddle in bed and preferred a relaxing night in over an expensive night out. Her laugh and her smile were infectious; it was impossible for me to be down or angry when I saw Layna smile or heard her laugh.

I also got a much more in-depth look at the strengths I already knew she possessed. She was tough and hard-working. As a woman working in the world of professional sports--a male dominated industry--she had to work twice as hard and put up with twice the shit. She was inspiring. And she was so fucking smart. When it came to branding and image, she was Michael Jordan: in an industry of the most talented people on the planet, she was still head and shoulders better than anyone else.

I had it bad for her. Which scared me. I'd never gotten this close to anyone. And never let anyone get this close to me. Growing up as a poor, white boy in Van Nuys, my education and then my job were my priorities. I watched my single mother scrape by paycheck-to-paycheck, and I never wanted to go back to that life. Which is why, at thirty-two years old, I'd never had a serious girlfriend. Relationships were a distant second to my education and then my career. Consequently, I'd had more casual flings than I could count, along with a dozen or more friends with benefits. None of those were anything like what I had with Layna. I was in uncharted territory.

"We should get to bed soon," I said. "We've got a big night tomorrow."

"I can't wait," she replied enthusiastically. "I've never been to a red-carpet event before. Have you?"

"Yeah," I answered. "I've gone to the ESPYs each of the past three years. You'll love it. It's like the Oscars for athletes. You'll see a lot of our clients, as well as potential clients, in attendance."

"Oh, I know," she said. "I've got my eyes on a few of them."

"Are you staying over tonight?" I asked.

"Are you inviting me?" she replied with a coy smile.

"I gave you a key. I think that's generally considered an open invite 'round these parts," I remarked wryly.

"Well, considering I've stayed over at your place every night for the past month, I would have thought you would already know the answer," she retorted.

I did know the answer. I still loved hearing it.

...

"Janice, do you have the passes for Layna and I for the ESPYs tonight?" I asked my secretary. "I need to head home soon to get ready and I want to make sure I get those now before I forget."

"Sorry, Mr. Maxwell," Janice replied, then added, "Dana has them. Do you want me to go get them?"

"No, that's okay. Please finish arranging the limousine for Conner and his entourage. I can go get the passes from Dana."

I walked over to Dana's desk, suddenly reminded of the close call Layna and I had last night. It would have been less than ideal to get caught having sex in the office by the company president's secretary. Though we'd disclosed our relationship to the company, and signed waivers to hold the company harmless if our relationship went south, I was confident that didn't give us permission to fuck on the furniture.

"Hi, Dana," I greeted her. "I'm told you have mine and Layna's passes for the ESPYs tonight."

"Oh, yes, let me get them for you, Mr. Maxwell," Dana replied sweetly, then opened a drawer in her desk. Handing me a manilla envelope, she said, "Here you are."

"Thanks, Dana."

"You're welcome, Mr. Maxwell."

I turned back toward my office and had taken one step before I heard Dana's voice.

"You and Ms. Donovan were working late last night. I hope you were able to 'finish' whatever it was you were working on."

My heart stopped and my blood went cold. I turned slowly to see Dana staring at me like the cat who ate the canary, wiggling her eyebrows.

I walked back over to her desk and leaned close, whispering, "You gonna tell on us, Dana?"

Dana chuckled, then whispered back, "Your secret is safe with me, Jake."

"I owe you one," I said, relieved.

"Seeing your naked butt was payment enough," she replied, the grin transforming into an all-out smile.

"Dana!" I exclaimed with faux indignation before giving her a smirk and turning to walk away.

"Oh, and Jake," Dana said. When I turned back around, she added, "Don't mess this one up. I've never seen you happier."

Dana was right. I had been happier these past three months. I gave her a soft smile, which she returned, then headed toward my office. Just as I turned, I saw Layna heading toward me, smiling at me in a way that made me feel like I could fly.

Layna must have read something on my face because she dropped the smile and raised an eyebrow. As I reached her, she turned and walked with me, back towards my office.

"What's up?" she asked softly, out of the side of her mouth.

"Have you ever fantasized about someone watching you have sex?" I replied, also speaking softly and out of the side of my mouth.

"Can't say that I have. Why?" she asked before her eyes went wide. She immediately turned her head to look back at Dana.

I turned my head as well, just in time to catch Dana winking at Layna and flashing a thumbs up. As we both turned our heads forward again, our eyes met. We grinned and snickered, bumping into each other as we strolled to my office, like a couple of misbehaving teenagers who knew they got away with something. We would need to be more discreet in the future.

...

"You almost ready?" I shouted from the couch in my living room, back toward the master bathroom. "The limo is supposed be here to pick us up in fifteen minutes."

"Almost. Just a few more minutes," Layna shouted back.

Layna and I left work early, coming back to my apartment to get ready for the ESPYs. When she hopped in the shower, I quickly stripped down and followed her. I was hoping for some playtime, but she shot me down. With our limo arriving in ninety minutes, she said she needed the entire time to get ready. Damn hair and make-up. I had to settle for running my soapy hands on her breasts, hips, and ass until she finally kicked me out of the shower.

It took me much less time to clean up, shave, fix my hair, and slip into my classic black tuxedo. I'd been sitting on the couch for forty-five minutes, watching Sports Center and waiting for Layna to come out.

"Okay, I'm ready," Layna announced before stepping into the living room. As she glided in, I felt like time slowed down and angelic music chimed in from the heavens.

Layna looked sensational. She wore a long, black halter top dress, which had a plunging neckline to show off her shapely cleavage, and a slit on the right that went from her thigh down to her ankle, showing off her leg. Her long hair hung down in loose ringlets, like spirals of gold that bounced as she walked. Her make-up was minimal, just enough to accentuate her natural beauty, except for the scarlet lipstick, which made her turquoise eyes pop. I was speechless.

"What?" she asked meekly.

"You look beautiful, Layna," I answered, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Thanks, Jake," she said softly, beaming and blushing at the compliment. In all the time I'd known her, I'd never seen her blush. It was adorable to see the strong woman I knew redden like a little girl. "You don't look so bad yourself."

"I'm nowhere on your level," I said recovering my composure. "Although, you seem to have forgotten Bob's rule number one."

"Don't look better than the clients?"

"That's the one," I replied, running my hands along her smooth, tanned arms as I moved in for a kiss.

"Just a peck. I don't want to have to re-do my lipstick," she said, puckering her lips at me.

Regretfully, I respected her wishes. Yet as I pulled back and looked at her, that shade of red on her full, soft lips had my mind in the gutter. I was tempted to skip the event and spend the rest of the night ravishing her in the bedroom.

Our limo arrived five minutes later, and we were on our way to a night on the red carpet.

...

The venue was packed when we arrived, even though we were early. Staff, photographers, publicists, and other agents swarmed the red carpet, while mobs of people on the street huddled behind barriers guarded by security staff and police.

The second Layna and I stepped out of our limo, we were blinded by cameras flashing in our faces. The photographers likely assumed we were celebrities. Once they realized we weren't, they left us alone.

The red carpet and cameras held no allure for me. I was here for business. And the ESPYs brought some of the biggest stars in the world of sports to one place at one time. A good night here could make a career. A bad night could break one. I looked at Layna and she had her game face on.

We'd already come up with a plan before we arrived. Layna identified several athletes who were not clients and were in the market for new representation. I was going to focus on catering to existing clients, particularly Connor Adams who had been nominated for three ESPY awards. When the big names started arriving, Layna and I hit the red carpet, working as a team.

As the stars rolled in, the crowd buzzed. It was a flurry of handshakes, high fives, and hugs, followed up by small talk, catching up, and plenty of ogling. It was classic Hollywood elbow-rubbing and dick-measuring. The kind of social dynamic I'd grown accustomed to in Los Angeles, especially around the rich, famous, and attractive. I was in my element.

Whereas Layna had a knack for branding and image, kissing ass and schmoozing, without making it look like I was kissing ass and schmoozing, was one of my strengths. I deftly maneuvered through the crowd, putting my arms around clients like we were best friends, shaking hands and slapping backs with old acquaintances, telling stories, and introducing people to one another that simply 'had' to meet.

Bob once told me he took me under his wing because, when I wanted to, I had a way of making a person feel like he or she was the most important person in the world. When he first said it, I thought it was a passive aggressive way of saying I was a kiss-ass. However, after four years of working under Bob, I'd learned he meant it as a compliment of the highest magnitude.

I kept Layna close to me both to keep an eye on her, and to make sure she got to see me work the crowd. I was five years older than her and had more experience and knew more people. Since she was my partner, I wanted her to benefit from my knowledge and connections. As I looked back on her, she didn't need much of my help. With her beauty and charm, people flocked to her. Yet another reminder of how lucky I was.

When Connor arrived, Layna and I were there the second he stepped out of his limo. He was decked out in a conservative, blue Hugo Boss suit, white dress shirt, gold and navy tie, and brown loafers. Layna had secured a licensing deal with Hugo Boss, which is why Connor was wearing it. The colors were a nod to his new team, the Los Angeles Rams, who traded up to the first overall pick to select Connor and keep him home. Between his youthful, handsome face, the sharp suit, and the swagger that comes from being a two-time Heisman winner, Connor looked every bit the Hollywood star.

"Connor, looking good, brother," I said as we clasped hands and pulled each other in for the classic guy hug.

"Yo, Jake, thanks for setting everything up for us, man," he replied. "It's all been first class, especially the limo. You're fucking 'him', bro."

"I had a lot of help," I replied with a smirk and a shrug. "You remember Layna, right."

Layna moved to stand next to me, offering her hand to Connor. "Good to see you again, Connor. The suit looks incredible on you."

"Thanks, Layna," he said, shaking her hand and giving her a good look up-and-down as he smiled appreciatively. "The suit is top notch. And, no, I could never forget you."

I was pretty sure Connor was imagining my girlfriend naked given the way his eyes roamed up and down her body. And he shook her hand longer than seemed necessary. Layna didn't seem bothered, and Connor was only a twenty-two-year-old kid, so I quickly put it out of my mind. After all, Layna was with me.

As we walked Connor to the step and repeat backdrop, where athletes and celebrities posed for the customary photos in front of the host's banners, I noticed one of my best and oldest clients, Carlos Alonso, was talking to another agent. And not just any agent. It was fucking Schultz. The sleaziest, scummiest, douchebag of an agent I'd ever had the displeasure of meeting.

Aaron Schultz was widely regarded as one of the top agents in the game. But I despised that entitled, backstabbing, piece of shit. He would lie, cheat, and steal from his own kids if it made him a dollar. And Carlos was a twenty-seven-year-old right fielder, coming off back-to-back fifty home run seasons, and heading to free agency in the fall. There was no way I was going to allow dick-bag Schultz anywhere near Carlos.

"Hey, Layna," I said in her ear, just loud enough for her to hear me over the din of the crowd. "Aaron Schultz is trying to move in on a client of mine. Do you have Connor?"

"I've got him, babe," she replied, flashing me a reassuring smile that made her eyes sparkle. "Go."

I darted through the crowd, like a punt returner attacking seams in the coverage. Schultz had his hand on Carlos's shoulder, whispering conspiratorially in his ear. No doubt making promises he couldn't keep or spreading lies about me.