Le Corbusier Chair Novels & Stories

As a powerful figure in the commercial world, Chairman Moore was desired by countless ladies, desperate to be with him, and yet Mandy had never seen him interested in any woman throughout the years. However, when the chairman explicitly asked her to find out about that woman, she obliged and compiled detailed information about the woman in the shortest amount of time. “Got it.” Henry Moore acknowledged with a deep voice and nodded with an indifferent expression, hinting her to leave. Mandy bowed respectfully and left. Henry had an extremely spacious black-and-white themed office. His leather couch and solid refined wood desk were unique designs created by famous European designers, the furni

2019, February 4th "Carr, I'm stealing this chair. So comfortable!" said James, reclining in CC's office chair. "Not on your life," CC said, dropping onto the couch next to Aaron. "That chair was designed and built specifically for me." "Who cares about the dumb chair?!" Aaron yelled too loudly. CC frowned at him. "What's your problem?" "He's nervous about tomorrow night," said James, spinning himself in the office chair. "I am not!" Aaron said, his voice going up an octave.

I am going to enjoy the peace of it myself. My desk was a huge red cherry wood. It had drawers on both sides, marble accents, and a paisley looking design around the edges. It was very similar to the one I had at my home office. The chair was huge and looked like it was going to be really comfortable to sit in, even though I was sure that I would be in my lab more than in here. There really was nothing that I could complain about. I may add some color to the room to give it a feminine touch, but other than that, I wouldn’t change a thing about it.

Like it was plucked right out of an IKEA catalogue, if not for the coral material it was made from. She shrugged at me when I looked at it. "Why change the design if it works?" I shrugged, Dane and Xavier putting the clone into the seat. Coral formed from the chair in vines, looping his arms and legs and bound him to the chair. Xavier and Dane's hands glowed from a minor spell I'd placed on them before they'd grabbed the clone. Xav raised his fists, turning them slightly to examine the subtle pink glow. "So, what do I think about?" He asked.

The armrest of the chair had metal string rung from it to the ceiling and looked like a giant harp on both sides. Melody looked just as confused as Tulip when she saw the new contraption that's supposed to be her chair, "Why is it like this?" She asked with her head tilted. The sphere covered the bottom, back, sides, and top of the chair leaving on the front open and that had a glass there for her to see through. Xasha said nothing but launched an attack on the chair. It didn't even leave a scratch. "This thing will protect you during fights, it can do everything you old chair can do but more, it's way faster, and with its aerodynamic design you can travel at the speed of sound in this and f

"Don't think I don't see the look in your eyes when you see this specimen of manhood in front of you." I roll my eyes. He's right, but I'll never let him know that. "You're a specimen of something, that's for sure." "Get your sweet little ass on that chair," he says, more teasing than demanding. "My ass is hardly little anymore," I note. "What is this thing?" It's not a regular chair and certainly not a recliner, not with its elongated s-shape and narrow width. "It's a sex chair." Dorian grins at me like he's inordinately pleased with himself.

She closed the door. The click was small. It still sounded like something being locked. Now I was alone in my office, sitting in a chair too large and too comfortable for a woman currently considering a list of people she wanted to destroy legally. I had chosen the chair myself two years ago after spending three weeks in a designer chair that looked beautiful but made my spine want to sue. The leather was dark cognac, tall, wide, with a backrest that made me look like the CEO of an interiors magazine, not the mother of a four-year-old who had just accused chicken soup of being propaganda.

The bigger the chair, the higher the status of the team member. Isabella's eyes widened as she took in the scene before her. She saw five large chairs, each with a tag on the seat. The smallest chair belonged to a young man in his twenties, with a tag that read "Jeff". The fourth chair was occupied by a stunning girl with long blonde hair and beautiful eyes, her tag reading "Stephene". The third chair was taken by a gay man with a large stature, almost like a giant, his tag reading "Claus". The second chair was occupied by a girl with a big snake tattoo on her body, dyed pink hair, and green eyes. Isabella immediately recognized her as the girl who had interrupted her and Collins' intense mo

I breathed deeply, trying to slow my heartbeat, but I couldn’t stop the odd tingling sensation of fear and need mixed together. Finally, he looked up at me and put his pen down. “Bring that chair around.” He pointed to a simple pioneer-style wooden chair, posed under a Remington painting of horses on the wall. When I picked it up, I was surprised at how light it was. The seat appeared to be made from actual rawhide. I placed the chair where he indicated, behind his desk, next to his. “Sit down.” As I sat, I inhaled deeply. The scent of his cologne made me dizzy.