Roses & Thorns

Entry into the Valentine's Day Story Contest 2024

Submitted under the Category of BDSM because that is where the content leads

For the purpose of the competition entry/theme there's more of a lean toward the BD than the SM.

A version exists in my head that leans into the S and the M let me know in the comments if you want that version to release - although I may well be tempted without such encouragement so keep an eye on my future releases.

Anyway I digress...

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The offices of Bowen Greenslade Jones were falling quiet.

Another long week drawing to a close late on a Friday afternoon, the head count dwindling across the trading floor as I cast my eye through the open door from my private office.

Reaching up I loosen my burgundy necktie and unfasten the top button of pristine, starched, white collar of my shirt. Perception and appearance were everything, simple enough standards to uphold that helped maintain a diligence amongst all staff in the workplace. To be even observed in such moments of relaxation, as I casually lean back in my leather office chair, would have been perceived as weakness not so many years ago. Hedge Funding had changed across the thirty years since I had stated my career, and on so many levels rarely for the better.

Through the open doorway I hear her voice. the very example of the drop in standards personified.

Looking up through the partially closed slatted blinds I cast my eye over the brunette as she stands with her back to me engaged in idle conversation with a fellow junior colleague, an attractive blonde girl in a smart navy dress whose name escapes me.

Despite her loathsome persona my focus not for this first time is only drawn though to the physical splendour of the slender brunette who is dressed in a tight fitting light blue blouse coupled with a tight dove grey pencil skirt that sits to her mid thigh over light denier natural colour nylons that that cling to perfectly toned legs that are accentuated by navy blue single strap heels.

Tabitha Greenslade-Jones reputation around the Office already now far outweighed her more than pleasing on the eye physical presence. Since she started work a little over four months ago she had taken little time to confirm what many had suspected, her appointment was made based on her name rather than her qualifications, experience or even general competence.

She held an undeniable natural beauty, long brown hair normally worn tied back framed a classically beautiful face. Her body toned slender and perfectly formed was the object of desire of nearly every red-blooded male employee of Bowen Greenslade Jones, while employee relationships were supposedly not permitted, it was yet another office rule that was well known to be regularly flouted. Tabitha to her credit had not knowingly flouted such rules. She did not have to work hard to maintain a somewhat acerbic aura that made her largely standoffish and unapproachable to the vast majority of her male colleagues, even if any of them had dared risking an approach the Managing Partners only daughter.

Our paths had crossed so far only intermittently professionally, by no reason other than we had remained aloof from one another since her commencement of employment. This not least as I had not been a supporter of her joining the prestigious firm, following university and a year of international travel financed by her family's enormous wealth, a matter of fact that I felt sure she had been briefed on. I held no genuine ill towards her but simply felt her skill set would have been bettered honed away from the comfort blanket the familiar office and establishment offered her.

Tabitha represented the third generation of the Greenslade-Jones to be associated with the firm that bore her family name. Her promotion to the higher echelons of the company was all but guaranteed irrespective of performance or ability. The fast track to success at the family firm meant that her lack of discernible portfolio, her minimal contribution and work-shy reputation mattered for very little. Her semi retired Father and her sadly deceased Grandfather would have pride in her following the family mantle, it was to her genuine fortune that neither her father Rupert nor his father Lachlan were around to witness her so far day to day lethargic approach to her introduction to the inheritance the family name assured. These days the name Bowen within the company moniker Bowen Greenslade Jones apparently meant for very little despite institutional investment made several years previous that had saved the company from bankruptcy. The gesture now appearing only token by placing the extended operating name above the door and to the company letterheads.

My overriding feeling that I could not be swayed from was that the under the influence of such inauspicious prospects the future of the firm looked very bleak indeed.

Tabitha Greenslade-Jones could represent the future bur someone, somehow needed to desperately take control of the superficial young protégé.

"Any plans for the weekend Ginny?" I hear Tabitha enquire of the blonde colleague, as I still fail to recall her surname much to my chagrin.

"Scott's taking me to Edinburgh for an early Valentines getaway..." is the response earned, "...We've a flight from City Airport at half seven... I should really get a wriggle on."

"Lucky for some," Tabitha offers, her words palpably dripping in envy.

"No one with special plans for you this weekend then Tabs?"

"Chance and a fine thing..." Tabitha responds, before adopting a somewhat devilish tone, "...not even the sniff of a fuck buddy for Valentines... and I'd settle for that."

The brazen little giggles both females offer near enough repulses me as I rise from behind my desk. Crossing my office without wishing to draw any undue attention I close the door on the pair of them, not without taking one last surreptitious glance in the direction of the egotistical brunette.

"There must be someone out there for you," I hear Ginny offer reassuringly as I cast one last surreptitious look up the backs of Tabitha Greenslade-Jones perfect legs.

"Not since I split from Daniel... but there's plenty to be said for the single life...maybe I'll find a hook up on Tinder," Tabitha states mischievously as I silently close the door on their conversation.

Sitting back at the desk I try my best to put my thoughts regarding the companies irritating if beautiful eventual heiress to one side as I set to addressing the essential emails, amongst the substantial list of unanswered enquiries I need to respond to ahead of my own mundane plans for the weekend.

**********

I sit alone at the bar, nursing the same tumbler of whisky as I have done for the past forty minutes.

Looking to my watch I note the time approaches ten past eight, the realisation dawning on me that my carefully orchestrated plan has likely failed. Taking the tumbler in hand I swill the remaining contents and the fast-dissipating ice cube around the glass as I watch a smartly dressed couple head from the bar into the main reception of the Langdon Excelsior Hotel. Knocking back the tumbler of whisky I feel the warmth of the amber liquid slip down my throat.

"Can I refill your glass Sir" the tall well-built Barman enquires on his deep Eastern European accent.

"Why not," I offer without thinking and without looking in his direction as I watch the couple disappear around the corner or the double entry doors.

As they pass from my sight I see her, hearing the click clack of her black ankle strap heels on the polished marble floor as she steps confidently towards the main reception desk. My heart leaps from my chest into my throat. My anticipation builds immediately my senses alert as my imagination begins to fire. As the Bartender sets the second drink before me I take the tumbler and move further along the bar relying on the shadows of the dimly lit room to hide my presence as I keep her in my view.

A long beige overcoat covers her body, a jacket belted tightly at the middle around her slender form, I watch as she sweeps long dark hair from her face behind her right ear as she approaches the female receptionist.

I knew, or at least I hoped I knew exactly what lay beneath the form fitting three quarter length jacket. The final of three gifts anonymously delivered to her at the office across the day via courier.

The first a simple, yet luxurious, greeting card addressed to her but left anonymously and deliberately without a signature to accompany the handwritten note that intriguingly stated:

'I am drawn to you. I need to have an intimate understanding of you.'

Delivery of the card had been made whilst I was offsite, but I had noted the card lay on its side on her desk a little after ten thirty when I had returned from a client breakfast meeting.

A little over an hour later a large luxurious bouquet of a dozen deep scarlet roses were brought up from reception to her desk, much to her visible embarrassment, not least at the gentle ribbing of her colleagues given the further anonymous nature of the gift.

The third gift, which arrived shortly after lunch, was gift boxed and contained the halter neck black dress that I hoped adorned her body under the beige jacket. The black nylons that adorned her legs as she stood before the reception desk I further hoped to be the black dark denier stockings that accompanied the black basque, suspender belt and matching black briefs wrapped in tissue paper that sat in the box beneath the bespoke tailored black dress.

The note within the gift box simply read:

'Langdon Excelsior. 8pm. Give your name at reception.'

My clandestine observation of the pretty brunette continues as I sip from the Whisky to quench my first and ease the sense of anxious anticipation that builds within me. I dip my head and turn away as I watch her look across her left and then her right shoulder as the receptionist types away on a keyboard hidden out of sight beneath the reception desk.

The next time I look up I observe as with an outstretched arm she takes a keycard from the pleasant faced receptionist. I cannot interpret her expression as she turns the card in her hand and contemplates for a moment or so as she steps a little cautiously away from the reception desk. Her confidence on leaving the reception desk waning from the composure she had exuded moments earlier on arrival.

Taking a sip of my drink, I watch as a tall male in a dark grey suit passes her by, his head snapping back not once but twice to observe her beauty as he crosses the reception area himself I note her weak smile and take a sigh of relief when he carries on in the direction he was originally heading.

Tabitha Greenslade-Jones slips the room card into her jacket pocket. A mild panic briefly grips me as looking up herself she makes to take half a step towards the lobby bar in which I dwell. Looking to her watch a relief washes over me as she steps finally away in the opposite direction, once again I seemingly hear the click clack of her heels over every other sound that invades my senses. Reaching out, a wry smirk passes my features as I bring the Whisky to my lips and take a deep long sip of the finely aged liquid.

Tabitha Greenslade-Jones has been intrigued enough to come this far I can only hope, despite the enormity of the request made, that she will be intrigued enough to follow the further final instruction that awaits her in the master suite she will have been informed by reception that the key card is for.

I take a further swig of my drink, letting its warmth combine with my growing sense of satisfaction and anticipation. As I look to my own watch I decide to give Tabitha thirty minutes before I will join her.

Relaxing into my surroundings now with a little I look around the bar, predominantly filled by couples of all ages engaging in the same mundane trappings of Valentines Day activities as I hear the muted pop of a champagne cork from behind the bar.

My own plans and my plans for Tabitha Greenslade-Jones being ultimately far removed from any such cliches.

**********

A little after 9pm I hear the lock to Suite Four electronically unlatch as I remove the key card from reader built into the door.

Pressing the door softly open I step into the vast room, my heart rate elevated much as it has been since leaving the lobby bar and ascending the fifteen floors in the private express elevator.

Slipping off my suit jacket I hang it on a row of wall mounted pegs next to her long Beige overcoat. A short passageway opens into a living area that consists of a small private bar and an L shape configuration of plush black leather sofas that sit around a low glass coffee table and face a wall mounted television. My eye drawn to the open bottle of champagne that sits nestled in an ice bucket on the bar next to a little silver dish piled high with strawberry's.

Plucking a strawberry from the platter I press forward in my now haste, moving through the room towards open double doors that lead to the lavish suite's bedroom.

Crossing the luxurious deep piled dark red carpet in relative silence I set eyes upon her immediately as I approach the doorway.

Placing the strawberry to my lips I bite down on the soft fruit and taste the exquisite sweetness as my eyes cast for the first time this evening up along the backs of her incredible toned legs.

The room is illuminated by the flickering glow of the two dozen red candles that I had instructed the Hotel to provide on booking the room. The pristine white sheets of the bed Tabitha stands motionless before are littered with deep red rose petals.

Tabitha stands with her back to me, I am not even sure she hears my approach as I admire the monotone black outfit that clings to her body. The scene before me accentuated in the flickering glow of the candles and by the contrast white of the bedding and the rich dark red carpet. Her elegant ankle strap heels hold her posture. Black nylon clad legs lead to the hem of the perfectly fitting black halter neck dress that exposes a good portion of her back. Her bare arms hang to her side, her hands do not ball, yet I can see the tension that grips her by the slight hunch of her exposed shoulders.

As I step her head holds her steadfastly facing forward. Through the long brown hair that cascades to her shoulders I can just about make out the blindfold she will have applied herself as it sits tied as tightly across the back of her head as it will across the bridge of her nose and her blue green eyes. As I step up behind her the smell of her perfume invades my senses as I contemplate how long she' has stood here diligently waiting for me, for whoever she imagined would eventually join her.

The note that had been pinned to the blindfold simply reading 'Put me on' sits on the left-hand bed side table next to an empty champagne flute that bears a dark red lipstick mark around the rim of the delicate glass.

"Who... who are you?" Tabitha hesitantly enquires breaking the palpable tension of the silence that fills the room as I step into her proximity.

Consciously I let her question hang in the air as I slide my hand though her silk like brunette hair. I draw myself closer to her standing over her frame even given the additional height her spiked heels provide. I do not yet dare to place my hands upon her body as I bring my lips close to her left ear over her shoulder.

"A true Valentine never reveals his identity" I gently offer laying down a statement of my intent as I gently kiss my lips threes times along her left shoulder. Drawing a soft gasp from behind her lips as my lips encroach upon her neck with her hair gently pulled to one side.

"How do I know I can trust you?" I hear the conflicted emotions in her shaky nervous voice.

"You've come this far on your intrigue alone" I offer, "Your trust will be rewarded... I promise."

I slip my right arm around Tabitha's waist and pull her gently back against me, my arousal impossible to hide as I feel the tension that holds her in a captivated unease as she stumbles a little before gently replanting heeled feet to balance herself in the grip I now hold her body in.

"That dress looks perfect on you." I honestly complement.

A compliment that she does not respond to as I let the fingers of my left-hand trace down her left arm from her shoulder, drawing further nervous breaths to her lips.

"Do I even know you?" Tabitha enquires further.

"You do..." I offer honestly, "...I've admired your beauty from a far."

"Why the secrecy?" Tabitha confidently asks, a little of her impatience at the heightened situation beginning to show.

"I want you to surrender..." I whisper into her ear, "...give yourself to the intimacy and intensity that my anonymity provides... I can assure you of your safety... you can trust me just as I can promise you that what transpires will remain between you and I."

Gently squeezing her svelte waist, I slip my arm further around her body, noting how Tabitha does not respond to my statement.

"Do you feel you know how you would react to every situation?" I offer before taking a step back and releasing her from my gentle grip.

Tabitha's head gently shakes from side to side.

"What then if I were to request you remove that dress..." I deliberately pause to let her contemplate my words "...to let me see the full beauty of the ensemble I gifted you... my Valentine."

I do not press her, I patiently await her next move as I take yet another step back, my own breath silently hitching as I leave her stood before the bed in the darkness that consumes her world from the tight-fitting blindfold she has drawn and secured across her own eyes.

Her first reaction is as hesitant and reserved as I would expect it to be. Her right arm pulls up towards the nape of her neck, before she dwells, she pauses on contemplation of what she is about to do again of her own free will, all be it at the implication of my request. Then her left hand reaches up and joins her right at the back of her neck. Delicate long fingers clench over the black materiel that holds across the back of her neck, and she unhooks the three little buttons that fasten the garments halter neck.

Watching on transfixed as she peels the front of the garment down her upper body, revealing very little to myself in this moment but consciously undressing for me, nonetheless. I realise that I have not taken time to fully appreciate the exquisitely tailored bespoke dress used to attract and lure her with, in truth the dress served no genuine purpose, representing little more than lavish bait to lure and intrigue her superficial persona with.

Tabitha's right-hand bends back under itself and she finds the secluded zipper to the right-hand side of the dress, her hand slightly clumsily works the zipper to start before eventually it runs free as she unfastens the zip to well below her right hip.

Without instruction I watch as she lets go of the garment and lets it slip down her slender body until it bunches at her ankles.

In the flickering glow of the candlelight her svelte profile alters little, such had been the fit of the dress. I let go of a breath I hadn't realised I'd held onto however as I cast my eyes over her body that's now only covered by the tight fitting silk basque top, a tiny suspended belt that sites over a pair of semi opaque black briefs and trails suspenders to dark denier stockings that clad from her mid thigh to her most endearing feature, her perfect legs.

"Turn around..." I softly request "...Let me see you."

Tabitha turns, stepping carefully out of the dress at her feet as she does so, stepping towards me a step as I close the gap back to her, my eyes feasting on her body as I do. The basque cut so intrinsically that it holds her firm breasts up enhancing her cleavage yet at the same time barely covering the nipples of her firm orbs.