Steve Wilcox put his hands on the oaken desk of the attractive young woman and leaned forward to talk to her. His gaze roamed her body. She was taller than he was, at least in heels, but fortunately she was sitting and he was standing. Her hair was black, and her eyes a deep brown, with a vaguely exotic shape to them. Her skin was darker than the Irish name of “Connors” suggested. She wore an off-white silk chemise underneath her suit jacket that was sexier than the shell most of the women who worked at the accounting firm of Ferris, Johnson, and Thoms wore, but not too unprofessional.
He took a moment to imagine her naked. High, firm breasts– 36 C, he guessed, neither too large nor too small. Long legs. He didn’t have to do too much imagining. After all, he’d seen her naked, on stage. He smiled. She was going to be his, whether she liked it or not. And he would make a tidy profit in the process, which would please his patron.
“Miss Connors,” he said, “We have a new project for you.”
***
Kalisha Connors met the gaze of the man looming above her. As the chosen of Aphrodite, she could sense his lust. He was a man who liked to be in control. A little of that could be fun, but she felt something darker, something that hinted at more than just fun and games. Furthermore, the man was a junior partner in the firm, the same rank as her boss, the younger Mr. Johnson. “Mr. Wilcox, what can I do for you?”
“I have a new account for you,” said Wilcox, moving around and sitting on the edge of her desk.
Kalisha frowned. “You’ll have to talk to Mr. Johnson,” she said. “I’ve got two accounts going right now, and they both look like they’ll take a while.”
Wilcox nodded. “I talked to him. You’re off those now. You’ve been reassigned to me.” He looked hawk-like, perched like that.
Kalisha hated to leave something unfinished, but she nodded. “Alright.”
“Give what you have on the old accounts to the new guy– Kenneth Smythe. He’ll wrap them up for you, but you’ll still get credit for them. Now you’ll be working on this.”
He tossed a folder on her desk. “This is the L. Ron Crossing account. Very lucrative, very important to the company. You see, you’re moving up in the world. Your job is just to certify that all their books are in order, and sign the firm’s name to that effect. There’s a promotion in it for you. Are we clear?” “Crystal,” said Kalisha.
Wilcox smiled. “Good.”
L. tercan escort Ron Crossing was indeed an important account, a company that had been growing by leaps and bounds in recent years. FJ the lawn had a chemically treated uniformity to it. As Kalisha arrived a woman was getting into a black Lexus in the driveway. She was shorter than Kalisha, a peroxide blonde, and she wore a short red dress that hugged her curvy figure and bared shapely legs. The woman looked about furtively as she opened the door.
Shit. Kalisha leaned forward. “Park her in.”
“Lady, I –,” the taxi driver protested.
“Park her in,” insisted Kalisha. “A hundred bucks.”
The taxicab pulled in behind the Lexus. The woman glanced back, startled. But rather than getting out of the car, she turned off the engine and sank into the seat, as if hoping she wouldn’t be noticed.
Kalisha shoved three fifties at the driver. She swung the door open before the Taxi driver could even think of getting out to get it and walked toward the Lexus. She knocked on the window. The blonde straightened and rolled it down.
“Mrs. Wilcox?”
The woman nodded. She looked scared.
“I’m Kalisha Connors. I have the L. Ron Crossing account, and we need to talk.”
The blonde paled, her skin tone nearly matching the color of her hair. “I–“
“Inside.”
Mrs. Wilcox got out of the car. She walked to the house and led Kalisha inside. The taxi drove off.
Kalisha looked around. The Wilcox living room was opulent, with plush white carpeting, black leather couches, expensive Modern Art originals on the walls, and an intricate chandelier for lighting. Wilcox was making more money than she was, but either he spent it very freely or he had an extra source of income. “May I get you anything to drink, Miss Connors?” asked Mrs. Wilcox, her voice shaking a little.
“No thank you,” said Kalisha. She tossed her coat casually on the couch. She wore another chemise beneath it, but not the one she wore to work. This one was black, lace-trimmed, and showed more cleavage. She patted the seat next to her.
Mrs. Wilcox eyes took in Kalisha’s outfit, and hesitantly sat down. And from that one look Kalisha knew the woman was hoping that somehow the encounter would turn into sex. The rumors about Cindy’s sexual orientation appeared to be correct.
***
At the 360 club, Steve Wilcox waited termal escort impatiently for Kalisha to take the stage. He enjoyed watching the other dancers, but he had passed up a chance to socialize with wealthy men to watch Kalisha dance. And money, well, money was what mattered. Money made women kneel at your feet and let you drive a fancy new car. Money could even make a woman punctual. But most importantly, Money was power, as the strange gentleman he had met over a year ago had told him.
God of wealth, the man had said he was. And occasionally of the underworld, he had added, as if those two naturally went together. When he turned a crystal wine glass into solid gold, Steve Wilcox had become a believer. And when the man, or god, had asked for Steve Wilcox to become his chosen it had been an easy choice. Having the God of wealth on his side was better than having the God of the underworld against him.
He suspected that Hades would not approve of how he had arranged his priorities tonight. He looked at his watch. Eight twenty.
The redheaded dancer he had seen before was dancing. She stopped to crouch in front of him, even though he hadn’t tipped her.
“Kali’s a little late,” the redhead whispered. “She said she had to get a special costume.”
Wilcox frowned.
The redhead winked. “I think she likes you.” And then she was gone.
Maybe I should buy this whole club, thought Wilcox, as he stared after Wendy’s ass. Then I could fire the strippers if they didn’t suck my cock. The thought made Wilcox hard, and he stayed.
***
Kalisha sidled closer to Mrs. Wilcox. “Now Cindy– you don’t mind if I call you Cindy, do you?”
Cindy shook her head.
Kalisha patted her knee. “I’ve been looking through the files, and it seems like you had the L. Ron Crossing account a couple years ago. And the books– well, they’ve been rotten for at least three years. Does your husband know about this?”
Cindy gulped, and looked unsure of what to answer.
Yes, in other words. The red dress Cindy wore was quite short, and Kalisha slid her hand up from the woman’s knee to mid-thigh. “In fact, he’s blackmailing you, isn’t he?”
Cindy hesitated, then nodded.
Kalisha turned, bending towards her, her face just an inch from the small blonde.”What’s sex with him like, Cindy? I want to know, because, well, I think he’s interested in me.”
“He’s… tirebolu escort very rough. He likes — absolute obedience,” said Cindy “Did he– did he send you?”
Kalisha smiled. “Maybe. Maybe not. Do you like it rough?” asked Kalisha.
“Sometimes,” said Cindy. “Not from him, though.”
Kalisha could feel the woman’s breath on her lips. Kalisha slid her hand underneath Cindy’s skirt, playing with the hem. “Are you attracted to women?”
Cindy nodded.
“Does your husband send many women over for you to play with?”
Cindy shook her head. “Never.” Her eyes locked with Kalisha, as if trying desperately to discern what the taller woman was going to do.
Kalisha kissed her softly on the lips, just long enough to get Cindy to respond hungrily, and then pulled back. She sensed Cindy’s frustration.
“You see, Cindy, your husband is trying to blackmail me, just like he blackmailed you. But I don’t think he’s going to let you play with me. I think he wants us both to himself. But he doesn’t have the hold on me he thinks he does. I can afford to lose my job, and I’ve not done anything illegal, as much as he’d like me to.”
Cindy blinked.
“So I’m thinking of going to the police.”
Cindy’s gasped. “It would ruin me,” said Cindy. “They’d lock me up.”
“It would ruin your husband, too.”
Cindy made a face. “That would almost make it worth it.”
Kalisha put an arm around Cindy’s shoulder. “Why didn’t you blow the whistle, yourself?”
“I was stupid. I made a mistake on another account, an innocent mistake, but I lied to cover it up. And Steve found out. He made me forge the L. Ron Crossing books, and then he made me marry him. My father’s rich, he hopes to inherit.”
“And he wanted your body, I bet.” Kalisha traced the scooped neckline of the red dress with her finger. “I can’t blame him for that.”
Cindy shivered.
“But you should have stood up to him.”
Cindy sighed. “I’m not that kind of woman, Kalisha. Steve found out that, too. He found about about my lovers. I like to be controlled. At least in bed. Not like this, but — well, I have to work at standing up for myself.” She looked at Kalisha. “Are you going to turn us in? You are, aren’t you? Or did you just come to blackmail me? I’d make love to you willingly, you don’t have to—”
Kalisha put a finger to Cindy’s lips, hushing her. “I know, dear. I know. You can’t fight back, because he knows you’d take the fall, too. But I can do it for you. I can make him believe I don’t care about either of you. Even if we both know that’s a lie.”‘
Cindy smiled a little.
“We can use your submissive inclination to our advantage,” said Kalisha.
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