The Deal Maker chapter 4

 The Deal Maker

Chapter 4

A mischievous, devilish smile curled her lips. Making her way to the door, she grabbed her stylish ladies backpack and her phone. She stepped into the hallway on her crutches clicking against the hardwood floor and stopped in front of the floor to ceiling mirror. She stared at herself, her toned legs, her sprained ankle, the elegant sway of her skirt, the delicate contrast of vulnerability and in being total control.

Claire stepped out of the building slowly, the cool morning air brushing against her legs as she adjusted her grip on the crutches. The tight wrap of the Ace bandage around her right ankle sent a constant dull throb up her leg with every movement, but she welcomed it. Pain made it real and maybe did more than that

A sleek black car pulled up to the curb, her Uber arriving right on time. The driver, a tall man in his late thirties with warm brown eyes, quickly got out and moved around to open the door for her. His gaze flickered down, taking in the contrast of her long, smooth leg in sheer pantyhose and the other wrapped snugly in beige bandages, floating off the pavement.

"Need a hand, Miss Claire?" he asked, his voice rich with concern.

Claire offered him a small smile. "That obvious, huh?"

He chuckled, extending a hand. "I've seen plenty of people try to tough it out. Trust me, it's easier if you let someone help."

She hesitated for a fraction of a second, just enough for him to see it, then nodded, letting him steady her as she eased onto the seat. His hands were firm but careful, fingers brushing against her waist as she adjusted her position.

Once she was settled, she shifted her bandaged foot inside, flexing it slightly with a soft wince.

"Guess I won't be running any marathons soon."

He smiled as he closed the door. "Well, if you need another ride later, I'll be around. Try not to get into too much trouble on those crutches and high heel." Claire smiled, watching him through the window as he walked back around. Oh, if only he knew.

The moment Claire stepped into the office, I felt the air shift. A hush seemed to follow her like the room itself had paused to take her in. My eyes trailed over her, unable to help the way they lingered on her long legs. With her crutches under her arms, she moved with practiced elegance, her knee slightly bent, her bandaged foot hovering just above the polished floor.

The grey pencil skirt clung to her and her white blouse lay perfectly tucked, the buttons drawing my eyes downward, teasingly hinting at what lay beneath. It all made her look effortlessly powerful, despite the vulnerability of her injury. Her pantyhose shimmered slightly under the office lights, one leg sleek and perfect, the other wrapped in bandages, a striking contrast that I couldn't tear my gaze from.

She moved across the room, her crutches clicking softly against the floor with her good foot, elegant in a high stiletto heel. The curve of her calf is accentuated by the delicate arch. The contrast was mesmerizing, carefully held to avoid any pressure and pain.

My eyes traced the length of her injured leg, drawn to the thick Ace bandages on her foot, ankle and lower calf. For a moment, I wondered how close her injury was to a need for a leg cast, perhaps? The thought sent a shiver through me. And then, my mind wandered further, what if it were a full leg cast, stretching from her delicate toes all the way up her lovely thigh? The image was almost too much, my pulse quickening at the mere idea.

Every shift of her body sent a quiet sexual thrill through me. The way her hips swayed with each calculated movement, the slight wince as she adjusted her balance, the way her wrapped ankle hovered just above the floor, all of it demanded attention. She was a vision of vulnerability and sexiness, every inch of her exuding pure hot attraction.

I moved before I even realized it, I stood, my body acting on instinct. "Here, let me help," I said, my voice steadier than I felt.

Claire's lips parted slightly, amusement flickering across her face, but she didn't refuse me. Instead, she allowed me to guide her gently toward her office chair. She sank into it with a sigh, her grip on the crutches loosening as she leaned back.

Without thinking, I knelt before her, my hands instinctively reaching for her injured ankle. The bandages were snug, wrapped expertly around the delicate joint, but I could feel the warmth of her skin beneath the layers of fabric. The moment my fingers brushed over the curve of her foot, a jolt ran up my spine.

"Does it hurt?" I asked, my voice lower now, almost hushed.

She studied me, eyes sharp but unreadable. "Not too bad," she murmured. "As long as I don't move it too much, put any weight on it at all or you don't twist it."

I nodded, barely breathing as I lifted her foot just slightly, resting it on my thigh to elevate it. My thumb traced lightly over the bandage. A shiver ran through me at the contrast of the firmness of the wrapping, and the softness of her skin just beneath it. For a moment, I lost track of where I was, who I was supposed to be in this scenario. My fingers lingered longer than they should have, caressing along the outer curve of her ankle, my touch feather-light but deliberate.

Claire inhaled sharply, her back straightening just a fraction. A slow, knowing smile curled at the edges of her lips.

"Be careful sir, my sprained ankle is very sore" she teased, her voice barely above a whisper.

Reality snapped back into focus like a rubber band pulled too tight. I withdrew my hand, clearing my throat as I shifted back slightly. "

"I'm sorry I was just making sure you're comfortable," I said, forcing a casual smile, though my pulse thundered in my ears.

Claire's gaze lingered on me for a beat too long between my legs, something unreadable flickering in her expression looking at my fully erected penis. Then, just as smoothly as she always did, she settled back against the chair, her injured ankle now comfortably elevated, her fingers grazing the crutches at her side as if reminding me exactly what had drawn my attention in the first place.

Later on that day I leaned back in my chair, staring at the phone for a moment before pressing the page button.

"Claire, can you come to my office?" My voice was smooth, controlled, but inside, I was already picturing it. The way she'd move. The sound of her crutches tapping softly against the floor. The way she'd look at me.

A pause. Then her voice, low and teasing through the speaker. "On my way Sir."

Moments later, she appeared in the doorway, leaning gracefully on her crutches, her injured foot hovering just inches above the floor.That pencil skirt hugged her curves like it had been made just for her, the fabric sculpting over the gentle flare of her hips before tapering down above her knees, her crisp white blouse accentuating the lines of her breasts. But it was her legs, long, perfect, one in pantyhose, the other wrapped in Ace bandages that held me captive.

"You wanted to see me?" she asked, arching a brow, shifting her weight ever so slightly. The movement sent a small shiver up my spine.

I gestured toward the chair beside me. "Have a seat please."

She gave me a slow smile, taking her time as she moved toward it, the deliberate sway of her hips accentuated by the uneven rhythm of her steps. She sat, carefully lifting her wrapped ankle off the ground, her lips parting just slightly as she adjusted.

Before she could settle, I was already moving. Sliding a spare chair in front of her. Reaching for her injured ankle.

"Let me," I murmured, my fingers grazing the curve of her calf, feeling the silkiness of her pantyhose before they slid lower, wrapping around the firm bandages protecting her injured ankle. Her skin was warm beneath my touch, her muscles tensing just slightly as I lifted her foot, carefully resting it on the chair in front of her.

She exhaled, a slow, measured breath, her lips parting as she adjusted in her seat. My grip lingered, my thumb pressing lightly against the wrapped joint. A test. A tease.

"Still tender?" I asked, my voice deliberately low as I let my fingers slide, squeezing gently, feeling the give of the bandages beneath my touch.

Claire let out a soft, breathy chuckle. "What do you think?"

I pressed a little more, feeling the delicate resistance of her ankle beneath my hands, wondering. Just how much pressure... how much of a twist... would it take to turn this into something more? Something that required more than just a simple wrap, something rigid, unyielding. A leg cast, maybe.

For a short moment, as I met Claire's green eyes, a memory surfaced...

The Deal Maker
Chapter 5 to come
K