It happened the way it always happened. My smartphone made a discrete 'beep'. I turned away from the computer monitor on my desk, woke my phone up, and checked the text ID.

Sir.

It could have been much more. It could have been Mr. Charles Woodburn, CEO & Chairman of the Board. That's who Sir was.

I opened the text to find the message I often received from him.

'I need you in my office.'

I smiled as I stood immediately and retrieved my jacket. It didn't matter what I might have been working on, important or mundane, it was all the same in comparison to that expression of need. The message wasn't a request; it wasn't a demand or suggestion. The message was merely a statement, a statement that didn't required any consideration or evaluation or prioritization on my part. The statement was simplicity.

He needs me. I need to know nothing more. I am slipping my arms into my jacket sleeves and reach for my tablet in case I might need it.

My high heels click and clack on the hard floor as I exit my office on the tenth floor past my secretary and others in their cubicles on my way to the elevator for the eleventh floor, the senior executive level. The nameplate on my heavy wood office door says, Tina James, Executive Accounts Director. I am that. I manage the accounts that Mr. Woodburn personally oversees for special clients of our financial institution. But, I am also much more. I swipe my badge along the side of the floor buttons to allow me access to the eleventh floor. The eleventh floor is very restricted. Normal, everyday business transactions and decisions don't frequent there. Only the most important and critical issues, decisions, and strategic clients reach into those offices.

As the elevator begins its slow ascent from ten to eleven, I catch my reflection in the high gloss door.

The familiar tingle increases as I consider the potential of his need. Sometimes it is professional, some potential client or a pitch to an existing one. Sometimes, though, the need is personal. Those are my favorite.

Stepping out of the elevator I swipe my badge at the double doors immediately ahead of me in a wall of glass separating the 11th-floor occupants from the activities below. That was the singular impression I once had, too. Now, as I step inside I am again struck by the weight and power that emanates from these offices. This floor contains the Board Room, separate offices for the six board members when they are in the building, offices for the COO and CFO. The personal assistants for each are station outside their offices, which are separated down the hallway due to the size of each office along the left. On the right is a smaller conference room, a telecommunications room, and the formal Board Room. I am intent on the furthest office down the hall and the largest, Mr. Woodburn's.

I knocked on the door and wait quietly. I glance at Trudy, his personal and very discrete assistant. She gives me a knowing smile and I return it. I stand on both feet with equal pressure. My back is straight and shoulders pulled back, which has the effect of pronouncing my breasts in front of me. My business suite today is black and consists of a jacket over a semi-sheer buttoned, white blouse. My skirt flirts with propriety for my position in the financial industry. It ends just below mid-thigh, which might be considered several inches too short for anyone else.

"Come in."

Mr. Woodburn's voice is clear and direct. I grip the handle as I smile again at Trudy and push the heavy door into the room. I walk into his office, the door closing automatically behind me. Mr. Woodburn, even in the quiet and subdued nature of the eleventh floor always has his door closed. I walk directly to the front of his desk between the two visitor chairs. He pushes himself back against his chair, his elbows on the arms of the executive chair, his fingers steepled at his lips, and his gaze not leaving me. His jacket is off and hanging in a closet along the inside wall.

Without a word from either of us, I remove my jacket, fold it and lay it over the back of one chair. My fingers then move to unbutton each cuff of my blouse, then work the buttons from top to bottom on the front. My eyes are in contact with his. I pull the blouse from my skirt, unbutton the final button and slide it off my shoulders and arms. I place it over my jacket. My hands move to the back of my waist, unclasp and zip, then wiggle out of the tight-fitting garment, which is also placed over the same chair. For a moment or so, I stand perfectly still, my hands comfortably at my sides. I am naked except for the thigh-high stockings and 4-½ inch heels.

He is watching me intently, longer perhaps than normal, but I wait with patience. He nods, almost imperceptibly, which is the reason for my close attention to his face and eyes. With that nod, I move to the side and sit in the other chair. I cross my legs comfortably as though I were some other female employee or visitor fully clothed in his office. I wait for him to declare his need.

"Do you know what today is, Tina?"

"Today, Sir?" I puzzle over that. Was there something significant about today that I neglected to remember. I doubted that. I am meticulous about the details with Mr. Woodburn. I slowly shook my head, my long, blonde hair moving across my right shoulder, which I move back behind my shoulder. I am sitting with a straight back, again with my shoulders slightly pulled back to enhance my breasts, no part of my back against the back of the chair. There may come a time when he desires me to slouch in the chair, but he will indicate that.

"No, Sir, I'm sorry. I assume you don't mean 'Tuesday' or 'the 6th'."

He chuckled, "No, dear. Should I take it as a positive thing or a negative that you don't remember that one year ago today you started your new position for me?"

I smiled in return. I hadn't registered that. "Very positive, Sir. I have enjoyed serving you in every way. I was simply unaware so much time had already passed."

He smiled his knowing, always confident smile. "Perhaps this might be a good moment to recall our agreement, my dear."