Unexpected Visitor

Two months had passed since Ella's first day at West Tower. Two months of living a strange dual existence—professional assistant in public spaces, sexual servant in private. Two months of learning to anticipate Adrian's needs, his moods, his desires. Two months of a routine that, despite its humiliation, had become almost... predictable.

The morning ritual never varied. Martha would wake her at 6 AM with her birth control pill and a silent assessment of any visible marks from the previous night. Breakfast was spent standing behind Adrian's chair, awaiting instructions. Then the car ride to West Tower, where the cycle of blazer on, blazer off would commence—a physical manifestation of her fractured identity.

By now, she moved through these motions with mechanical efficiency. The shock had faded, replaced by a dull resignation. Survival meant adaptation. Adaptation meant accepting the unacceptable.

"Coffee," Adrian said without looking up from the quarterly reports spread across his desk.

Ella rose from her small desk positioned across from his—a desk strategically placed so that his view of her was unobstructed while she worked. Two months had taught her precisely how he took his coffee at different times of day. Morning was black with two sugars. Mid-afternoon was an espresso. Late evening was a specific single-origin pour-over.

She prepared the coffee with practiced movements, no longer self-conscious about how the sheer blouse exposed her body as she worked. The transparent material had become as familiar as her own skin—an extension of her new reality rather than an aberration.

"The Hong Kong contracts need revision," Adrian commented as she placed the coffee on his desk. "The terms in section fourteen are unacceptable."

"Yes, sir," Ella replied, her voice professionally neutral. "I'll contact legal immediately."

This part of the job—the actual administrative work—was almost a relief. Here, at least, she could focus on something beyond her body and its uses. Adrian demanded excellence in all aspects of her service, and she had quickly realized that performing well as his assistant was another form of protection, a way to maintain some semblance of dignity.

Ella returned to her desk, aware of Adrian's eyes following her movements. She had learned to read his moods through subtle cues—the tension in his jaw, the cadence of his typing, the way he loosened his tie. Today, there was a restlessness about him, an energy that made her instinctively wary.

The intercom buzzed. "Mr. West, the Nakamura file you requested," Diane's voice announced.

"Send it in," Adrian replied.

Moments later, Diane entered with a thick folder. Her eyes flickered briefly to Ella—as they always did—before focusing solely on Adrian. Two months had taught Ella that Diane suspected the nature of their "arrangement" but maintained a strict professional distance, neither acknowledging nor questioning what happened behind the closed office door.

"Thank you, Diane," Adrian said, taking the folder. "Hold my calls for the next hour."

"Yes, Mr. West." Diane nodded and departed, closing the door firmly behind her.

The sound of the lock engaging was Ella's cue. Without waiting for instruction, she rose and approached Adrian's desk.

"Not there," he said, surprising her. "Come here."

He pushed his chair back and patted the desk directly in front of him, clearing a space among the papers and tablets.

Ella hesitated, confusion momentarily overriding her conditioned response.

"The desk," Adrian repeated, his voice hardening. "Now."

Understanding dawned. This was new—a variation in the routine, a fresh humiliation to ensure she never became too comfortable. She moved to the indicated spot, standing uncertainly before him.

"Sit," he instructed, gesturing to the cleared space on the desk.

Ella carefully perched on the edge of the desk, the short skirt riding up her thighs.

"Lean back," Adrian continued, his eyes darkening with that now-familiar look—not quite desire, not quite hatred, but something uniquely his own. "Clear the space."

With trembling hands, Ella pushed aside the remaining papers, then leaned back on her elbows as instructed. The position was entirely exposed, especially with her lack of underwear—a permanent restriction Adrian had imposed from the first day.

"Do you know why I've positioned your desk across from mine?" Adrian asked conversationally, as if they were discussing business strategy rather than her exposed body.

"So you can see me at all times, sir," Ella replied, having learned that direct, honest answers were safest.

"Partly," Adrian admitted, rising from his chair to stand between her legs. "But also because I've thought about this very scenario every day for two months. You, spread across my desk, the city spread out below us—a fitting tableau, wouldn't you say?"

He didn't wait for an answer, his hands already pushing the tight skirt higher, exposing her completely. His touch was clinical, exploratory, like a scientist examining a specimen rather than a lover. While he remained fully dressed in his impeccable suit, not a hair out of place, she was being systematically exposed and examined.

"Sixty stories up, the most powerful address in the city, and here you are—displayed like an offering on my desk."

His fingers traced patterns on her inner thighs, moving with deliberate slowness, watching her reactions with detached interest. This wasn't passion—it was a demonstration of ownership, a reminder that her body was his to touch whenever and however he pleased. She was just another asset being assessed, evaluated for performance like any business venture.

Ella stared at the ceiling, focusing on the minimalist light fixture rather than Adrian's face as his hands continued their proprietary exploration. The contracts and reports crinkled beneath her back, important documents now serving as a backdrop for her humiliation.

Halfway through his methodical examination, the intercom buzzed. Adrian didn't stop, didn't even pause his movements.

"Ignore it," he commanded, his voice calm and controlled, as if he were merely continuing a business discussion rather than intimately touching her exposed body.

The buzzing continued, more insistent this time. Then Diane's voice, sounding uncharacteristically flustered: "Mr. West, Ms. Stanton is here. She's—"

The door swung open before Diane could finish, revealing a stunning blonde woman in a tailored designer suit. She froze in the doorway, her perfectly manicured hand still on the doorknob, her eyes widening at the scene before her.

For one suspended moment, nobody moved. Ella, mortified beyond words, couldn't even react. Her skirt was pushed up around her waist, her legs parted, completely exposed while Adrian's hands were still on her inner thighs. The contrast couldn't have been more stark—Adrian fully clothed in his impeccable suit, standing between her exposed legs, looking as if he was merely inspecting merchandise.

"Victoria," he said calmly, as if they'd been interrupted during a business meeting rather than... this. "This is unexpected."

Victoria Stanton—Adrian's fiancée, Ella realized with horror—recovered her composure with remarkable speed, her shocked expression transforming into one of cold assessment.

"Clearly," she replied, her voice glacier-cold. She stepped fully into the office, closing the door behind her. Rather than leaving or looking away, she leaned against the wall, crossing her arms. "Don't stop on my account. I'm curious to see what's replaced our lunch date."

The casual cruelty of her words matched Adrian's own. This was not a jealous lover's reaction, but something more calculated.

Adrian finally stepped back, unhurriedly removing his hands from Ella's body as if merely concluding a routine inspection. Not a flicker of embarrassment crossed his features as he straightened his already perfect tie.

"My apologies for missing lunch. Time got away from me."

Ella scrambled to sit up, desperately tugging her skirt down and trying to button her blazer with shaking fingers. The blazer that, she realized with fresh humiliation, was somewhere across the room where Adrian had tossed it earlier.

"So I see," Victoria replied, her eyes now fixed on Ella. "And this is... what, exactly? Your new toy?"

"My personal assistant," Adrian corrected smoothly, moving back to his chair as if nothing unusual had happened. "Ella Morrison."

Victoria's perfectly sculpted eyebrows rose. "An assistant. How quaint." She approached Ella, who was still perched on the edge of the desk, desperately trying to compose herself. "Stand up, girl. Let me look at you."

Ella glanced at Adrian, uncertain whose authority took precedence. His slight nod gave her permission to obey Victoria's command.

On unsteady legs, Ella stood, painfully aware of her disheveled state—the transparent blouse, the rumpled skirt, the marks Adrian's fingers had left on her thighs.

Victoria circled her slowly, assessing her like livestock at auction. "A bit skinny for my taste, but I suppose she serves her purpose." She reached out, lifting a strand of Ella's hair. "She's lasted longer than the others, hasn't she? Two months now, according to Diane."

The casual reference to "others" sent a chill through Ella. There had been others like her? How many? What had happened to them?

"Ella has proven... uniquely valuable," Adrian replied, his eyes revealing nothing.

Victoria laughed, the sound like breaking glass. "I'm sure her skills are exceptional." She turned back to Ella. "Tell me, dear, did you know what you were signing up for? Or did Adrian here neglect to mention the fine print?"

Ella remained silent, eyes downcast, uncertain what response was expected or allowed.

"Cat got your tongue? Or does she only speak when commanded, Adrian?" Victoria's voice dripped with mockery.

Adrian leaned back in his chair, watching the interaction with detached interest. "Ella is quite capable of speech. She's simply aware of her position."

"Her position was quite clear when I walked in," Victoria retorted. "On her back, legs spread, performing her... assistant duties."

Ella's face burned with humiliation, but she remained still, having learned that any reaction would only extend her torment.

"What do you want, Victoria?" Adrian finally asked, his tone suggesting mild boredom rather than embarrassment.

Victoria turned away from Ella, apparently losing interest. "Initially? Lunch with my fiancé. Now? I'm curious about this new development." She perched elegantly on the edge of a chair. "You usually keep your playthings at the penthouse, not at the office. This one must be special."

"Your curiosity is noted," Adrian replied coolly. "As is your interruption. Was there something specific you needed, or was this merely a social call?"

Victoria's eyes narrowed slightly. "The charity gala this weekend. I need confirmation you'll be attending."

"Of course," Adrian nodded. "I wouldn't miss it."

"Good." Victoria rose, smoothing her already perfect suit. "And will your... assistant be accompanying you?"

Adrian's gaze shifted to Ella, a calculating look in his eyes. "Yes," he decided. "She will."

Victoria smiled, though it didn't reach her eyes. "Perfect. I look forward to seeing her properly dressed for a change." She moved toward the door, then paused, looking back at Ella. "A word of advice, dear—enjoy it while it lasts. Adrian's toys tend to break rather quickly."

With that parting shot, she left, the door closing with a decisive click behind her.

Silence hung in the office for several long moments. Ella remained standing where Victoria had left her, unsure what to do, what to say, how to process what had just happened.

"Kneel," Adrian commanded suddenly, breaking the silence.

Ella sank to her knees beside his chair, the position now automatic after two months of conditioning.

Adrian's fingers idly stroked her hair as he returned his attention to the documents on his desk, dismissing both the interruption and her obvious distress with equal indifference.

"The charity gala will be your first public appearance," he stated after a moment, his tone strictly business. "You'll be presented as my assistant, of course, but in that context, it means something quite different. You'll need to be properly trained before then."

Ella remained silent, processing this new development. A public event. With Victoria present. The thought was terrifying.

"For now," Adrian said, his hand moving to her shoulder, guiding her between his legs, "demonstrate why you've lasted longer than the others."

As Ella obeyed, she couldn't help but wonder about those others Victoria had mentioned. How many had there been? What had happened to them? And what made her different enough to keep for two months?

The questions haunted her, even as she performed the task now expected of her.