V.R. Dunlap - 10 Sexy Stories

Lauren walked down to the gallery, her heart racing. A little more than an hour before, the owner had called her and said she should get there immediately, that he had something important to talk to her about. A thousand thoughts flooded her brain as she tried to figure out what he wanted. He hadnt seemed angry and she prided herself on her capabilities, so she didnt think shed screwed up.

She took a deep breath and hoped she looked okay. The hour shed spent tossing her closet in search of the perfect outfit had resulted in a light blue silk shirt mated to a gray pencil skirt. Her hair was pinned back in what she hoped was a serious, yet sexy bun. She thought the effect was stylish and professional but it was hard to tell. She had been working in the gallery's accounting department for the last two years and it was quite possible she looked like an oversexed librarian.

Realizing it was too late to change anyway, she opened the door and walked inside, trying to look as confident and collected as possible. She was greeted immediately by the store's owner, Mark Thompson. He stood there tapping his watch impatiently.

What took you so long? he asked shortly as she walked inside.

I came as quickly as I could.

He looked doubtful but shook his head as if to clear it and said, You said you wanted to run the gallery someday. Well, that day is here. I just fired Tiffany and need someone to cover the shop today.

Lauren stood there in shock. You fired Tiffany, she stated cautiously.

Yes, just this morning. She came in reeking of alcohol, still half-drunk. I wont tolerate incompetence. If you can handle things today, I may let you manage the gallery but you have to show you can do the job. If I didnt have meetings all day, Id do it myself, but I cant reschedule them. My loss is your gain, and if you work out, my gain as well. Fortunately for both of us, today should be slow. We have no client appointments so just tidy up a bit, answer the phone and hopefully you can keep the place from burning to the ground.

He abruptly handed her the keys and started walking to the door. Like I said, if today goes well, I may make you an assistant manager, if not, get used to accounting.

Lauren watched him leave and even his surly attitude couldn't ruin her mood. For the first time, she was running an art gallery! Granted, it was a quiet, slow art gallery at the moment, but it didnt matter. It had been her dream since she was a little girl and now here she was.

She turned to check the displays and for the first time really looked at the place. Whatever party had been here the night before had really left its mark. Mr. Thompsons order for her to tidy up had been an understatement. All throughout the gallery were small piles of trash. She knew that the gallery usually had their events catered and couldn't believe that anyone had left it this way. It looked almost like someone had started to clean up and then stopped halfway.

The phone rang and her excitement returned as she answered her very first call, Thompson Graphic Gallery. How may I help you?

Lauren?

The voice sounded familiar but she hesitated. Yes. This is Lauren, how may I help you?

Sorry about that, I meant to call the gallery not accounting.

Lauren's pulse raced as she finally recognized the low, sexy baritone on the other side of the phone. There wasn't much she enjoyed about her job in accounting but having Blake Parker call always made any day better. About a year ago hed called to try to figure out why the check hed written for a painting hed bought hadnt been cashed. Shed done a little legwork, figured out the problem and taken care of it for him. At first, they had only spoken of accounting but over the following weeks, their conversations had moved away from business. Lately, she had considered making a few billing errors just to get him to call more often. Fortunately, he had been buying more and more lately.

Hello, Mr. Parker. No, you didn't call the wrong number, I am actually managing the gallery today.

Oh really? he asked. Well, that's convenient. I was calling to make arrangements for my latest purchases. You know, it may be a bit complicated over the phone. I think I'll just drop by. See you in an hour?

An hour? she asked looking around at the mess. The one time she was in charge of the gallery and it looked like a bomb had exploded. If she didn't get it clean in time, he'd think she was utterly incompetent! That will be great, she stuttered, hoping she sounded more confident then she felt. I'll see you then.

She had rushed around furiously for the last hour, but it had been worth it. The gallery finally looked presentable. The piles of trash were gone and even though she didn't have time to get a new display out, it looked like an art gallery again.

When she heard the knock on the door, she immediately, brightened and started toward the door. She stopped mid-step as he came into view. He stood in front of the door, his dark suit complementing his jet black hair and bright blue eyes. He looked confident and casual as the wind blew through his hair and she was suddenly struck by what she must look like after cleaning up all morning.

She gathered herself and walked to the door, pushing a wayward hair back into place and smoothing down her skirt. If only she had spent a little less time on the way the gallery looked and a little more time on her own appearance.

Taking a deep breath to steady herself she smiled as she opened the door.

Mr. Parker?

Call me Blake, he said, his voice a rich deep grumble.

Blake, she said smiling.

He looked at her and she caught her breath as their eyes locked. And you must be Lauren, he said, his voice was the same confident, sultry sound she had grown to know over the phone.

So, what may I do for you today? she asked hoping her voice was more steady than she felt.

I need to arrange the delivery, he paused and looked around the room. Where are they anyway? When we left last night, they were still out. Have they been packed up so fast?

Well, I'm not sure. I just got here this morning. I wasn't at the show last night. What type of art was it?

Well, it was a type of sculpture, I suppose.

She grinned at his answer. You sound unsure and yet I heard that you bought the entire show.

Well, the work was a bit unusual. It was supposed to show the waste in our society. Each piece was made up of trash the artist had collected.

Lauren cocked her head as he spoke. Excuse me?

Well, it wasn't dirty, if that's what you are thinking. For instance, one had the packaging from an average family meal, the other was all the non-recyclable packaging from some office supplies, that sort of thing.

Oh my gosh, was all she could say. Lauren paled as he spoke. She knew the small piles of trash throughout the studio had been unusual, but she had been so excited about taking over the gallery that she hadn't given it any thought. Now, it hit her like a runaway train. Those piles of trash were actually works of art. Her stomach turned as she realized that she had just thrown out the artist's entire collection.

What's the matter? he asked, noticing her change in demeanor.

Her stomach sank as she remembered tossing each of the bags unceremoniously onto the trash pile. She thought about running outside and trying to salvage something but she knew it wasn't possible. She had been ruthless when she was cleaning. She hadn't just placed each pile in the bag. Instead, she had broken each collection so that the garbage fit better.

It's gone, was all she could say. Your entire collection is gone.