Lyla Ch. 02: Respecting her Elders

Her palms were sweaty, it was her first day back at work after the conference fuck up. Clarke was still in a meeting when she arrived. Lyla had yet to see her boss. She had cleaned his desk and already made lunch reservations for him and Cassie, she was over compensating for her mistake which could cost the company millions, she just hoped with all the meetings that something could be done to fix the mess she had caused.

"Fuck you Holt," she muttered under her breath, she threw herself into her tasks for the day. Her small office was situated in front of Clarke's, being his P.A she had to be near him at all times, even his secretary's office was two doors down. Before this whole debacle she liked to think of herself more than just his assistant, she considered herself more of a sounding board for his ideas. Offering advice when she saw fit and a reassuring word when he second guessed himself. She could see his talk lanky figure walk past the frosted glass, her heart rose into her throat. She quickly began ruffling files as he entered with his secretary Jennifer and a young brunette in tow.

"Afternoon Mr Bentley," she said following him and his group through the giant oak paneled double doors to his giant office. It was situated on the corner of the building complex, no walls just windows of the skyline on the left, the river on the right, it was truly stunning. Sometimes when Clarke was gone for the day Lyla would sit on the sofa he used for entertaining and just watch the sun set.

"Morning" he replied gruffly, taking a seat behind his surprisingly minimalist desk, he seen the files that Lyla had earlier tidied and began to scatter them across his desk, scanning them as he went. He finally found the sheet he was looking for and handed it to Jennifer. Ever since Lyla had started at the company Jennifer had treated her with nothing but scorn, she was old fashioned and resented everything Lyla stood for, in Jennifer's day women dressed more conservatively and kept their opinions to themselves. Lyla with her tall thin frame, white blonde shoulder length hair and a body more commonly seen on a magazine cover or runway, was never going to be her best friend.

"This is the file, Jennifer please scan it and email it to the board."

"Yes, Mr Bentley." She said, casting a dismissive eye at Lyla as she left the office.

"Lyla," he said without looking up, 'this is Halle she's the new temp."

"New temp?"

"Yes with you taking on a few additional roles in the company I thought you could use some assistance."

He looked up at her with a serious gaze, she could feel her cheeks flush. She smiled and took Halle's outstretched hand.

"Pleased to meet you."

Lyla put Halle to be about twenty, a good head smaller than her, a dark brown bob haircut framed her oval face perfectly. She was smartly dressed in brown pants and a black blouse. She gave off a timid vibe, Lyla suspected that she was a bit out of her depth, but found herself instantly liking her.

"Lyla will show you the ropes in the next few days, for today I would like you to familiarize yourself with the building and departments. I know it's a temporary role right now but who knows what the future will bring. Come back to me at about 4. 15 I will answer any questions you have and I will plot out some tasks for you for the week."

With that she shot Lyla a friendly smile and left the office.

"Sit, we have a lot to discuss and little time." He said curtly. He typed away quickly on his laptop. She didn't like the talk about Halle potentially staying on but after the mess she created she wasn't in a position to complain. She glanced around the office while he continued working on the laptop. It was a huge office, tastefully decorated. One side housed a giant glass table, used for demonstrations and conferences. A row of clocks lined the wall above the bank of computer screens. On the other side of the room near his desk was a small kitchenette. In the middle of the office were two sofas, facing each other, used for more formal meetings.

"I would like to apologize for what happened in your kitchen," he said, wringing his hands nervously. "As you can imagine I was in shock and not really myself, send me the bill and I will gladly cover any costs.

"Forget about it," She said smiling at him, the knot in her stomach eased a fraction. " Once again I cannot apologize enough for what happened at the conference. I will do anything to make it right, anything at all."

He stared at her, not in a rude way but like he was seeing her for the first time ever. observing her in great detail.

"You mean that? Truly."

"I do."

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

"It's not going to be easy, Lyla, the board think we can come out of this ok but it's going to take a lot of hard work and luck. The solutions they have offered seem impossible but they don't know that I have you as my secret weapon. The investors we are going to need, the experts that have to come on board, are all top of their game. I can work on them from my end but you are going to have to close the deal."

"I will try my best."

"No," he said his voice rising. "I need more than your best, you will have to be on your 'A' game now Lyla. We cannot afford the slightest fuck up. Holt holds most of the cards. We need to be smarter than him and do things he wouldn't even consider, that's the only way we come out of this."

"I know it sounds like crap but you can trust me to do this Clarke. I won't let you down again, I swear."

"I have been corresponding with Robert Howe. He was my old college professor, a very nice man, widower, never remarried. I have sought advice from him in the past. He has the most brilliant mind but is retired and is reluctant to come back into the fold. Even after years of friendship he is set in his ways and just casts off my offers. I need him on board if we stand any chance of surviving."

Lyla could see that Clarke was avoiding saying something.

"And..." She said leaning forward.

"And he has a thing for blondes." He finally blurted.

"Oh," she whispered.

She inwardly smiled. She had never seen Clarke look so uncomfortable before, she was enjoying watching him squirm. As soon as she thought that, the overwhelming guilt crashed over her. They were only having this conversation because she had dropped the ball.

"Yes," Clarke replied sheepishly. "He has agreed to a meeting in his house down by the lake, he thinks I am going but I thought you could take my place with a bottle of Cognac that I know he enjoys. From his email I sense that he is nearly ready to sign on but I can't take the risk of him changing his mind. Will you be able to meet him in thirty minutes." He voice had taken on a slightly pleading tone. "I cannot stress enough how important Mr. Howe is."

"Don't worry, I will get him to agree." She said standing up. It wasn't just about helping Clarke, it was about getting revenge on Holt. He had made a fool of her and that couldn't go unpunished.

Forty minutes later, she had paid the taxi and was walking up the steps to the black front door. The house itself was small but in a beautiful area, the front garden was well kept but around the back was a sweeping lawn that lead down to the river. She rang the doorbell and waited nervously.

"Surely I am expected." She thought.

The door opened, just as she was about to ring the bell a second time, by a young man in a suit.

"May I help you?" he asked in a deep voice.

"I am here to see Mr. Howe, he is expecting me. I am from Clarke Bentleys office."

"Yes, he is awaiting a guest but he thought it was going to be Mr. Bentley himself."

"He was going to come but then a last minute meeting cropped up so I am here in his place."

"He is out in the greenhouse, I will get him for you."

"No need, I will find him myself, thanks for your help." She shifted the big bottle of Cognac to her other arm and walked on the gravel path that lead around the house. She was eager to get this meeting over with and thought that if it was in the house they were more likely to be disturbed.

She had dashed home and showered. Sunni was in the kitchen learning some lines for a commercial she was going for. She had torn apart her wardrobe looking for something to wear, sexy but not slutty. In the end she settled for a light blue satin blouse, black skirt and a pair of black kitten heels.

Sunni raised her eyebrow as Lyla walked past her spraying perfume.

"Lunch meeting with Smash Boss." She asked looking up from her script. Lyla always found her accent to be very sexy.

"No, a meeting away from the office, Clarke has offered to pay for the damage he caused, he is just under a lot of pressure right now."

"Whatever you say," She said returning to her lines.

As she walked down the steps towards the green house she stopped to take in the view.

It was breath taking. The sun was shimmering on the lake, Lyla could see some small one man boats out in the distance, the lawn was dark green, two giant flower beds ran parallel to the steps down to a picnic area. The green house was a giant fixture near the water, the glass covered in condensation, she could see thick leafy bushes. She felt apprehensive as she approached the door, taking a deep breath, she pulled the heavy door open. Immediately she was hit with a blast of hot, stale air. She could hear music coming from the far end.

"Mr. Howe." She called out, all the plants seemed to tower over her making her feel claustrophobic. She heard movement and suddenly the music stopped.

"Down here," a kind voice replied. "Near the tomatoes."

She followed the voice and walked down the narrow aisle.

"Mr. Howe, pleased to meet you my name is Lyla Samson, Mr. Bentley's P.A. He sends his apologies that he is unable to attend."

"I am sure he does," Mr. Howe said shaking his head with a smile on his face. "He must really want me to come out of retirement if he sent you."

Lyla plastered a quizzical look on her face.

"Pretty young blonde with an expensive bottle of Cognac under her arm. I admire his audacity."

He set down the bag of soil and shook off his gardening gloves.

"Let us sit somewhere less humid." He turned and walked to a small room. It was almost hidden from her view by the big bushes. She had expected to seduce him but Clarke had said he was the best brain in the business, it would be damn hard to pull a fast one on him. She started to sweat as she followed him into the room. He was smaller than she thought he was going to be, his hair was white as snow, he had a kind face. He was wearing khaki shorts and a lime sweater vest with short white sleeves.

The room was dark, it had a narrow window looking out into the green house, two big wicker seats took up most of the room, a small coffee table separating them.

He stood at the door as she entered. He smiled at her and accepted the bottle.

"He gave me the same bottle for my seventieth last month. Wow! he really is pulling out all the stops."

"Seventieth" she thought, "he looks good for his age."

"I am sure Mr. Bentley explained the situation he is currently in." She said, taking a seat.

"Some of it, he didn't want to go into too much detail over the phone or email. I stupidly said I would think about it, less than two hours later here you are." He took the seat across from her.

"I had a meeting with him today, I can tell how much it would mean to him if you would come on board as an adviser." She leaned forward placing a hand on his knee. She wasn't usually this blatant but both of them knew what was happening.

"Better to get the ball rolling." She thought.

"Oh I see, he thought you would be the icing on the cake," He almost looked proud as he spoke. "Tell me Ms. Sampson."

"Lyla." She said flashing him a big smile. "All my friends call me Lyla."

"Tell me.. Lyla, do you do all of Clarke's dirty work?"

"I'm his assistant, I help out where ever I am needed." She replied coyly, opening her leg slightly giving him a flash of her inner thigh.

She could see him staring at her, he gulped and offered her a drink. She smiled to herself, this was where she felt most comfortable. Once she had a man's attention it was all over. They never stood a chance. Once he had left and went to pour them a drink she quickly unbuttoned the top two buttons on her blouse. More than a hint of cleavage was showing, he paused and stared before offering her the drink.

"This is my favorite room on the whole property," He said regaining his composure slightly. "I come here when I need to think."

"Been a while since you had a challenge?" She said, taking a sip, it felt smooth on her tongue with a strong kick as she swallowed. Her initial reaction was to cough but she was determined to show him she could take a drink. He eyed her and seemed to relax as she took another sip.

"It has actually, I thought my next adventure would be writing my memoirs but I keep putting it off."

"Maybe because you know that you have one last job to do before you hang up your hat."

"My, my Lyla, Clarke found someone special when he hired you. I like to think I taught him well but for some reason I don't think you gave him any option but to hire you."

She smiled and looked down, swishing the brown liquid in the giant glass tumbler. Maybe things didn't have to escalate towards sex this time. He seemed pretty keen to join, she was shocked to find herself feeling a little disappointed. He was attractive for a man his age and she had not slept with anyone over the age of fifty, this would tick that off her list and then some.

"So Mr. Howe, am I going to have to beg you to come and work for Mr. Bentley. I am sure all your plants could survive without you for a couple of weeks."

"I had decided to returned before you even walked on the property, young Lyla."

Her heart soared, she took a bigger gulp of the drink, she relaxed into the chair.

"I was just curious to see what the second gift was." He added with a chuckle.

"Second gift?"

"Yes, in Clarke's email he promised me a bottle of my favorite drink, he said that it would be delivered to me by my second gift. For a moment I thought it was going to be some new fangled delivery robot or something but I was more than happy to see you walk towards me."

"Clarke offered me as a gift." She thought.

She felt pissed off but confessed to herself that she had expected it. Clarke didn't like leaving things to chance, he always over prepared. Only he couldn't have banked on Lyla's emails been read.

"I left my bow in the taxi Mr. Howe."

The mood in the back room changed. It was no longer jovial, it sparked with pent up electricity, he was looking at her with lust in his eyes, no longer scared of being caught staring, he was openly ogling her. She felt her mouth go dry. She was used to men reacting to her but never in this strong a way. He looked like he was restraining himself from jumping on top of her and ripping her clothes off.

"No bow needed Lyla." He said taking a drink and licking his lips. He moved across to her quickly, and knelt before her.

He grabbed her chin and gazed into her eyes. She held his stare, observing his face up close she could make out the finer details. Small red veins were on the edge of each nostril, his jaw was dusted with white stubble, big bags under each eye. He smelled of sweat and soil and this turned her on. She bit her lip subconsciously.

She quickly put the glass to her mouth and drained it. She had just set it down on the small table when he put his mouth on hers. He was ravenous. Kissing deep and wet, his tongue exploring all of her mouth in a rapid motion.

"Damn," she thought.

She matched him, kissing him back just as deeply. He moaned and pulled away, unbuttoning her blouse in record time. She was wearing a blue bra. He cupped her breasts and buried his face between them. His hot breath made her tremble. She slid off her blouse and grabbed a handful of his white hair and pushed him further between her tits. Lyla loved being in control, especially with a willing participant like Mr. Howe.

The wicker chair began to creek. He reached around and unhooked her bra, he briefly stared at her exposed breasts before pouncing on them. He cupped one in his hand, tweaking one nipple while he sucked the other. He alternated between licking it rapidly and softly.

"Yes Mr. Howe just like that, you like my tits?" She asked in a croaky whisper.

"Yes." He mumbled not removing his mouth from her.

She started to massage the back of his head, pushing him deeper on to her. She began to feel wet between her thighs. Moving her foot, she firmly pressed it against his ass, she squeezed lightly, locking him against her more.

He swapped breast after a minute and continued to show it the same attention.

"Fuck," she thought. "He's a right little goer."

"You are so damn sexy Lyla, I don't know how Clarke can manage to see you every day and not bend you over his desk." He said, finally coming up for air. His face alight with childish excitement.

His hands snaked up her thighs, moving quickly under her skirt removing her black panties. She was starting to get lost in the moment, the lust was building inside of her.

She looked and him and asked herself how she gets into this type of situations. She was about to be fucked by a seventy year old man in the back room of a greenhouse in the garden of a mansion.

Lyla made to remove her skirt but Mr. Howe stopped her and nodded slowly, a cheeky smile on his face.

"It stays on."

"Whatever you say Mr. Howe." She replied, licking her lips and rubbing her breasts. Standing up she un-tucked his sweater vest. He put his hands up in the air, she pulled it over his head. His body appeared to have once been firm but time had made it sag. His pecks were droopy, his pot belly was protruding over his belt, white hair covering his chest and spreading out from his bellybutton area.

To Lyla he looked vulnerable, he had no problem showering her young body with attention but now that he stood there topless he felt insecure, picking up on this she smiled and unbuckled his khaki shorts. Falling around his ankles she could see that he was already to go. He was about 5.5' and thick, his bush of white pubes made his pink dick look almost illuminated. As she took it in her hand she could see that his ball sack was hanging very low. In a way she was not used to, she found his body to be a turn on.

"You like me stroking your cock Mr. Howe?" She whispered in his ear, which also had little white tuft of hair poking out.

His eyes were closed and his breath was ragged. He nodded rapidly in response.

She spat on her palm and began to work his shaft. Her grip was tight as she pulled it slowly. His thick foreskin grew taut when her hand moved over his helmet.

"Sit down," she commanded.

He sat obediently, making to remove his white socks and sneakers.

"They stay on," she said cheekily, kneeling before him and wrapping her lips around his dick. A surprised moan escaped from him.

"Fucking Hell!"

She stopped abruptly a sudden thought coming to her.

"We are not going to be disturbed are we?"

"No," he replied quickly, "the staff never come here, they know it's my retreat." He was impatient for her to get back to sucking.

"Good." She replied taking him all in her mouth, her bottom lip rubbing against his soft sack. His cock was the perfect size for a blow job she thought, it hit the back of her throat but didn't make her gag. She removed her hand and bobbed up and down. All his moaning was getting her wetter. She moved her hand under her skirt and began to rub herself in a circular motion.

Lyla was enjoying this more than she ever thought possible, he was like putty in her hands. She was ambitious at work and competitive in every aspect of her life but nothing compared to how she acted in the bedroom, she was like an animal, lust clouded her senses like a drug. All thoughts of Clarke, Holt and the mistake she had made vanished.