Captured by the Randy CEO

Wet Panties

Alan stared at her like she was a juicy piece of meat. He was awestruck by her ravishing beauty and supple body. He could imagine spreading those legs wide apart again and exploring her tight cave with his love muscle.

Christine was beginning to get discomfited by the silence and his stare.

"I think I should change the dress," Christine said, cutting into his reverie.

"What? No...n-no," Alan said. "That's the perfect dress."

She smiled and returned into the changing room. She appeared a while later in her work clothes, the seductive gown in a fancy bag.

She got an expensive red, high-heeled pair of stilettos to match the gown. Alan also got a fine pair of Italian brogues to go with his Turkish suit.

"I forgot to get pieces of jewelry!" she yelled suddenly.

"Or did we?" Alan inquired with a sly smile.

"We did," she replied.

"Did we?" Alan asked again.

"Alright," Christine said with a chuckle. "Why do I feel like you want me to ask if we did not?"

He smiled and produced a box from his breast pocket. When she opened the box, her eyes almost fell out of their sockets.

Red diamonds!

"Oh, you're too kind, Mr Alan," she said,

"I am," he smiled, and added, his voice becoming a sultry whisper, "Especially to the woman I love."

His hands went to her shoulder and dangerously close to her breasts as he whispered in her ear. His finger tips felt the softness of the mounds.

Christine frowned and pushed his hands gently away.

"Sir, we talked about this," she said calmly and moved a few inches away from him.

He hid his hurt with a smile and kept his distance, edging closer to the door away from her.

The office door shot open and Alan walked in, fixing the buttons on his shirt.

"Ready?" he inquired.

"Almost," Christine replied. "I'll just need to pack the last of my stuff."

Their first stop was his house. It was a different one this time. A duplex.

They was only two maids in this house and at his order, they showed Christine to a room for her to change into the party clothes.

Just then, the door opened and one of the maids stood there.

"There is a man downstairs who says he is here for Miss Christine," she announced and at Alan's permission, she went to get the makeup artist.

"

When he was done with her make up, he straightened her hair and they fell on her back and over her shoulders like a waterfall. He used pins to hold them in place.

"Wow, Jeff. I love this. You've turned me into a model," Christine squealed.

As she wore the dress and tried zipping it up, she found it difficult, so she went out to the hall to get Craig, Alan's butler.

"Craig, can you help me with my zip?" she asked without noticing who was in the room.

There was something about the way the person zipped her dress. The fingers touched her skin lightly like someone was intentionally trying to get her horny. At the touch, she felt her scalp tingle and her hair stand up on edge.

When she turned, it was not Craig.

"Sir? Sorry. Didn't know it was you," she said curtly.

"Craig left for an emergency," Alan told her.

"Oh. Thanks for your help," she said.

"Ready?"

They headed outside. A black stretch limousine with a well dressed chauffeur was waiting. After fifteen minutes of driving through well lit roads, the limousine swung into the exquisite parking lot of a luxurious hotel.

The driver got down and opened the door. Alan stepped out first and then helped Christine. He held his hand out and Christine locked her hands with his.

She stared in bewilderment at the. It was a huge event and only the creme de la creme of the society were in attendance.

Big cars, men in expensive suits, women in exquisite gowns, fancy shoes, expensive perfume, extravagant wigs and overpriced pieces of jewelry.

She understood immediately why Alan wanted her perfect.

Members of press had also come to take bits and pieces of the huge event, and lights flashed and camera shutters clicked as photographers struggled to get the best shots.

"Alan Walker!"

Alan and Christine turned to look at the person who had called him. A woman was smiling gleefully

"Congratulations, Leah," Alan said and pecked Leah on the cheek.

Leah ignored Christine and took Alan's hand. She pulled him along to introduce him to the other billionaire businessmen who had come to grace the occasion.

Christine followed closely behind them. She was Alan's personal assistant and even though no one would acknowledge her, she would do her job.

She stopped one of the waiters who passed through balancing silver trays filled with glasses on their finger tips, and took two glasses of martini for herself and Alan. When she offered it to him, Leah took it from her and shook her head.

"Alan does not take martini," she said and took a glass from another tray. "He takes lemon flavored tonic water," she said and passed the glass with a wink.

"Thanks, Leah," Alan said and planted another peck.

That was it.

Christine walked away and stood beside one of the other men.

"Well, who is this gorgeous?" one of them asked in a voice loud enough for everyone to hear and turn their attention to Christine.

"I'm Christine McAlister. Personal Assistant to President Alan Walker," she answered coyly.

One of the men faced Alan with a loud laugh. "Can we switch assistants? I'll give you my company if you'll give me her."

"If she was my PA, I wouldn't miss work for a single day," another one, an Italian commented and they all laughed again.

The women who had come with the other businessmen shot daggers at Christine.

"Well, sorry to break it to you, Francesco, but you can't have my personal assistant," Alan said and padded across them to Christine's side. "At least not today."

His false smile hid his hatred for Francesco.

Francesco was also a giant in the world of Tech and was a rival. Francesco had once paid a newspaper house to spread some rumours about him

Then, the glass slipped off his fingers and the drink spilled all over her dress.

"Oh, my God, pretty, I'm sorry," Francesco said and stepped forward with a napkin. He mopped the

Christine didn't miss Alan's glare.

"Excuse me. I'll go clean myself up," she said and got up.

..........

She got into the first bathroom she saw and grabbed a towel and began dabbing at the wet dress. Her face furrowed in a confused frown as she heard the door creak open and then shut with a click. When she turned back, Alan was there, his hands in his pocket.

"Do you need help with that?" he asked as he came forward. Without waiting for an answer, he snatched the towel from her and dabbed at her breasts.

She tried to protest but her breath stuck in her throat.

"You enjoyed all the attention you got, didn't you?" Alan asked suddenly. "Especially from that Italian bastard, Francesco."

"I don't know what you're saying, sir," Christine strained.

"The way they drooled over you like dogs over a piece of meat, you enjoyed it, didn't you?"

His voice took a sultry tone as he edged even closer.

"You know, one of them looked like he could kill to get his mouth on this," he said, and stuck out his tongue and licked the exposed part of her breasts.

"Sir, we promised to keep things professional," Christine objected half-heartedly.

"We will keep it professional if you'll only do one thing," he said and licked his lower lip. "Pull your panties down. Prove to me that you don't want this by showing me that you're not wet. And if you're not, then I'll leave you and I'll never touch you again."