365 Days Of Pleasure: Please Me!

Surprise!!

I stand outside, my eyes fixed on the looming skyscraper before me. I gape at the Démon and Co. logo that is gleaming in the sunlight.

I can’t believe it. I’m really here.

For as long as I can remember, working for Démon and Co., has been my ultimate goal. It is the biggest fashion company in the entire world, anybody would want that. Now, standing at the threshold feels too surreal.

I take a final deep breath and march towards the entrance of the building. I pause to smoothen out my dress for what feels like the hundredth time. Then I step forward, pushing my way through the revolving doors into the lobby.

My first steps in, I notice that the interior is just as impressive as the exterior. With its marble floors, chandeliers and the sleek receptionist style, I find myself stunned. The marble floors are polished to high gloss. Their surface reflects the sunlight that pours in through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

The whole space is bathed in warm and golden glow as the crystal chandelier illuminates every inch. The receptionist desk, made from fine wood, curves like a wave. A girl is standing behind it, her judgeful eyes fixed on me. The Démon and Co. logo, with its silver rims, sits above her.

I look to my left, where a black granite wall features a stunning waterfall. Its gentle hush provides a soothing background feeling. There’s also a lush green wall opposite the front desk that adds a touch of nature to the lobby.

As I walk by the plush cream-colored sofas arranged closely together, the sound of my heels clicking echoes through the lobby. It drowns the soft murmurs of chattering workers.

I approach the front desk, smiling at the lady who refused to match my energy. Nonetheless, I don’t let this ruin my smile. After all, so long as she isn’t the interviewer, I couldn't care less about how she feels.

“Hi”, I say, unwavering.

My gaze drifts to her name tag that reads “Rachel”. Rachel scoffs, her eyes sweeping over my form before she grabs her computer mouse once again.

“Name?”, she says, her eyes glued on the computer screen.

“Stella Graham. I’m here for an interview”, I reply, unbothered by the girl’s rude nature.

“Oh,”, she says.

I wait in anticipation as she continues to work on her computer. Then, after what feels like eternity, she looks up at me.

“Room two, twenty-third floor”, she reads out in a monotone, giving me a short sarcastic grin.

I turn away from her, my smile falling as I walk away and towards the elevator. The elevator itself is a masterpiece. Its mirrored walls and chrome effects reflect my image as I enter.

I try not to make my excitement obvious as I push the button for the designated floor and wait.

As the elevator doors part open to the twenty-third floor, my eyes widen. I step out into a world of breathtaking luxury. Soft, muted hues envelop me, punctuated by LED lights that dance like fireflies across the ceiling. The floor-to-ceiling windows are dark-tinted. My gaze wanders, drinking in the views of the city skyline.

As my eyes dart around, I simultaneously scan the room numbers, mindful of not getting too distracted. Finally finding the interview room, I stop in front of the door.

I take in a deep breath, a wave of anxiety washing over me. I have rehearsed my answers countless times. However, actually being there makes my stomach flutter with butterflies.

After gaining some confidence, I push the door open and step inside. The room is just as extravagant as all the other places I’ve seen. Seated behind a polished wooden table are three unfamiliar faces. Anyone would guess that they are the executives in charge.

“Good morning, Stella”, the lady in the middle says with a warm smile.

“Have a seat”, the room falls silent after that.

I settle into my seat, my smile wavering as I watch them discuss something within themselves. However, the silence doesn’t last long and they commence the session.

The interview progresses smoothly. With each passing minute, I find myself relaxing more into the conversation. I easily answer questions about my experiences, skills and career goals.

As they reach the topic of my strengths and weaknesses, a smooth, deep voice interrupts over the intercom. I hadn’t even realized until then that someone else was listening to the conversation.

“Send Miss Stella to my office”, the husky voice says, to which the executives exchange curious glances.

My heart skips a beat at the tone of the deep voice. There’s something achingly familiar about its smooth, deep tones.

Where have I heard that voice before?

The request comes off as some sort of shock to the lady executive. It tells me that it’s not a daily occurrence for the interviewee to get called.

“Um, excuse me. May I ask who that is?”, my question seems to have shaken the woman out of her shock.

She looks up at me with a small smile as she regains her composure.

“You’ll find out. Mr. Jenkins here will escort you to the elevator.”

With that being said, the said man rises from his seat and takes the lead. I quickly follow without further questions. Although deep down, I’m desperate to spill them all out.

As we reach the elevator, the man ushers me in and pushes a golden button. He smiles at me warmly and waits till the door closes. I am left to my own thoughts as I wait for the elevator to take me up to wherever I am supposed to go.

The elevator seems to ascend endlessly and my patience starts to run out. As the numbers grow higher and higher, my hands become increasingly clammy.

Finally, the doors open to the top floor. A long stretch of hallway unfolds before me. Its walls are lined with tinted windows that filter the city skyline into a haze. The hallway’s atmosphere envelops me as I walk through it. Its dark red lighting hints at mystery and hidden pleasures.

My heels click on the dark marble floor, echoing in the silence. Finally, I reach a polished wooden door at the end of the hall that bears the simple inscription“CEO”.

My hand hovers over the door’s silver handle. My heart races with anticipation and a new feeling overwhelms me. I take in a deep breath, urging myself forward.

As I push the door open, I’m engulfed in pure darkness. Out of nowhere, red lights flicker to life, casting an intimate glow on the interior.

My eyes adjust slowly, revealing a space that exudes raw sophistication. Plush velvet couches and dark wooden panelling create an aura of seductive luxury.

The sweet scent of flowers mixed with cigar makes my stomach flutter with butterflies. My gaze drifts to the name on the glinting silver name plate.

“Luca Démon”

Luca..

I remember. That’s it! Everything in the building reminds me of him, and I haven’t thought of it at all. With my last remaining sanity, I turn around ready to bolt out of the room.

However, I collide with a hard surface. The impact sends me stumbling back, and before I can regain myself, his smooth voice tears through the silence.

“Looks like you’re good at other things aside from being a little slut. Does your husband know that you do that for a living?”