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Irritation swirled through me.
    “For fuck’ s sake, there’s no fucking need to meet in person,” I growled to myself. “And every fucking week, to boot.” An excess of swearing, but it seemed warranted at the moment.
    I only had myself to blame for this situation. I’d recently started doing some consulting work for a tech giant in Silicon Valley. I’ll leave them nameless, but let’s just say that pure math provides useful insights that you can apply to search engines, online advertising and much more. The tech behemoth had a lot of money, and I was angling for a grant. A grant would mean that I’d be able to hire a couple more PhD students, get some manpower to tackle some problems I was interested in.
    So we’d arranged a project. The Executive Vice President of Technology was the project sponsor, and the email from his assistant just said that he’d like to meet in person each week to get a status update.
    Damn it. The project was obviously high-visibility, but I just grimaced at the sheer inconvenience of flying to San Francisco every single week. And the meetings were on Friday. This was going to be a huge disruption.
    “What’s the matter, Jake?” An amused voice asked me. I had been in the break room when the email had come in, grabbing a cup of coffee that was necessary to keep me awake, but also tasted like sawdust. I looked up, it was Colin Baker. Faculty as well, Colin was also a good friend; kindly, warm and welcoming. Jenny and I had dined with Colin and his wife Karen many times, and he had been sympathetic but unsurprised when we had broken up.
    I showed him the email. “My overlords require me to attend meetings in person. In Silicon Valley. Every Friday at 2.00pm. For the next two months.”
    He grimaced at me. “ Which company?” he asked.
    I named the tech giant. “Ah, Emily’s working there,” he said. “Emily McNamara , you remember her? My PhD student who graduated this summer? Some of her mail is still here, would you mind looking her up and giving it to her when you are there?”
    “No problem,” I replied. The situation finally held some interest. Emily had been an intriguing mix of bold and shy; her normal tongue-tied stammering had disappeared when she had be en naked, and she’d been honest, open and vocal about her desires. My cock stirred slightly in my pants. I wondered if she was still single.
    ***
    Emily:
    After that night with Jake Ballard, I thought about swinging by his office; seeing if I’d get invited to his house again. But something had held me back; perhaps a suspicion that Jake could be very dangerous. Not for my body, but for my heart.
    In any case, everything was a bit of a whirl. A week after that night, I headed out to travel through Thailand and Vietnam; my graduation present to myself, made possible due to the generous sign-on bonus that my new employers had paid me when I’d been recruited to join their search analytics team. I was gone for six weeks, and on my return, I packed my belongings and left Boston; moving across the country to San Francisco.
    The weeks flew by in a haze of activity. I had a ton of boring errands to do; the kind of chores you have to do when you move to a new city in a new state. Finding an apartment, setting up electricity and heat and the oh-so-necessary internet; changing my driver’s license; that kind of thing. All effective at helping me forget the memory of Jake’s amused eyes, his mocking laughter, and his heated, heated touch.
    Or rather, almost effective. During the day, I could lose myself in the joys and the pressures of a new job; at night, I had no such distraction. Jake was with me in the evenings; my memories of that night startlingly vivid, even after three months.
    Along with memories of Jake to try and forget, I had to deal with the fact that I’d loved everything he’d made me do. No, I’d begged for it, pleaded for him to use me for his pleasure. I was as complicit in my submission as he