Chapter Five
1513 Words
Chapter Five
Forced Hand
Inside the suite of offices that included Rich’s, Gretel encountered an all-too-familiar figure, the pretty brown-eyed brunette, Jessica, whose reclamation of her maiden name, Noble, fit her melancholy face precisely. Jessica, the martyr; Jessica, the brave. Gretel thought she’d gag. Gretel felt every bit as worthy as Jessica, but a slight question about her nobility caused her to veer to the wild side.
“I’m Jessica Noble,” she said. “Our receptionist is out today. May I help you?” Jessica’s body formed an understatement of Gretel’s figure, sculpted into well-defined curves, but packing less flesh than Gretel’s.
Jessica didn’t recognize her. Gretel’s disguise worked. “Tell Rich an old friend is here to see him.”
Jessica said stiffly, “You mean Mr. Leckie.”
“No, I’m not Mr. Leckie,” Gretel said sarcastically. “He is.”
“Oh, it’s you,” Jessica complained. “Cleverness doesn’t become you. You know that’s not what I meant.”
“You mean he’s not Mr. Leckie?”
Rich emerged from his office before the tiff could escalate into a brawl. Gretel lowered her sunglasses enough to gaze into Rich’s eyes. Her green eyes brought a smile to his face. “It’s OK, Jessica. I’ll be in my office with Ms.—”
Gretel put her finger to her lips.
“With Ms. Bag Lady,” Rich smiled. His flexing finger beckoned Gretel.
“Mr. Leckie…” Jessica tried to warn Rich.
As if reading her thoughts, he said, “I’m a big boy. I can take care of myself.” He headed back to his office with big, confident strides.
Jessica shook her head in dismay and frowned reproachfully at Gretel.
Rich closed his office door behind them. And Gretel pushed the button to lock it.
He raised his eyebrow. “What do you have in mind?”
“A small party.” She deposited her shopping bag on the floor, peeled off her overcoat, and tossed her coat beside the bag. “We’ll really celebrate later this afternoon. At the hotel.” Gretel took off her wig and sunglasses and put them in the shopping bag.
“Now you’re truly elegant,” he said. “Incredibly sensual. Nevertheless,” he grinned, hugging her waist, “you’re still my backstreet girl.”
She gritted her teeth behind her smile. “Casper’s, too.” She put her arms around his neck. “He prefers this backstreet girl to his hardest working business brokers. He just fired Kurt.”
Rich kissed her passionately. “You splendid b***h! You told me Casper would dismiss Kurt. How did you do it?” He walked over to his desk.
She picked up her shopping bag and followed. “Not me,” she protested innocently. “Sidney.” Her hands moved down to his waist. She unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned his waistband, and zipped his pants down. “I’m just the messenger. Maybe Sidney is blackmailing Casper.” She pushed Rich’s pants and boxers down to his thighs.
“What’s your hurry?” His mouth twitched.
Gretel knew Rich worried about his ability to perform. In fact, she knew more about Rich than he could imagine. But she’d save that embarrassing tidbit about his fickle p***s for later. Perhaps she’d entice him to the threshold of delight and embarrass him as a means of denying him at the critical moment. “No hurry,” she smiled. She opened her shopping bag and took out her gloves.
“Another touch of class.” He watched her sensually don her gloves.
“Bend over your desk.”
“Gretel!”
She grabbed his shoulders, spun him around—he didn’t resist—and pushed down on his neck. Once he was in position, she took a jar of Vaseline from her shopping bag and greased her gloves.
“What are you—Unh!”
She rammed her gloved middle three fingers of her left hand into his anus.
Despite the lubrication, Rich felt sharp pain—and an instant, huge erection. Almost as soon as his c**k popped up, Gretel’s right hand grabbed it. She formed a circle with her thumb and middle finger to regulate the tightness of her strokes. She began tentatively, teasing his c**k, while her left hand pushed rudely and insistently in and out of his ass. She stroked rhythmically with her right hand to increase the tempo, coaxing his body into complying with the dictates of her hands. She stopped.
“Keep going! Please!” Frustration drenched his voice.
“Call your self-righteous bimbo and tell her to print out the contact sheet for your board of directors. She can put it in the receptionist’s ‘Out’ box.”
“Gretel, you know I can’t do that. And she’s not—”
“I’ll call her in here myself.” Gretel held Rich captive with her strategically placed hands and said, in a normal voice, “Jessica.”
“She’ll hear you!” Rich complained.
“Very perceptive. Shall I raise my voice?”
“Don’t you dare!” Rich buzzed Jessica’s office on the intercom.
“Yes, Mr. Leckie?”
“Jessica, could you do me a favor?”
“Are you OK, Mr. Leckie? Your voice sounds funny. Can I help you?”
“No!” Realizing he raised his voice, he tried to regain his composure. “Really, I’m fine, thank you. I need a list of our board of directors.” Rich realized how absurd his request sounded. Why couldn’t he simply print the list himself?
Gretel must have read his mind. She pointed to his computer with her left index finger and made a circling motion at her temple with her right index finger.
“My computer is acting crazy,” Rich said. “I need the contact list. You know, with their names, business addresses, and e-mail addresses.”
“I’ll bring it to you.”
“Don’t trouble yourself. Please, just leave the list in the receptionist’s ‘Out’ box.”
“I’ll print you a dozen copies,” she said. “You always say to go that extra mile.” Her volunteer perkiness usually inspired Rich but now irritated him.
“Carry on,” he said, repeating a line from a forgettable movie that Jessica liked. He punched the button to end the call.
While Rich talked on the phone, Gretel prepared a surprise.
“What’s that smell?” Rich asked. “Unh!” Gretel rammed him again. In addition to the pain, Rich felt a tingly sensation.
“Ben Gay.” Gretel’s guttural laugh stung as much as the ointment. “Spread ’em and relax. You’ve got nothing to lose.” Her hands lost their finesse, following the most direct course to make him shoot off.
Gretel played Rich’s c**k with cynical precision, and the hot sensation of the cream on her gloves overstimulated his c**k and anus. Abruptly Rich ejaculated on the side of his desk, with occasional shots of jism squirting across the desktop. He felt like an animal forced to perform for a sadistic audience of one: Gretel. Hunched over his desk, gasping for breath, he asked, “Are you totally depraved?”
“If I’m your backstreet girl, you’re my backdoor man.”
“Don’t ever do that again! And why didn’t you just ask me to print the list?”
“Silly boy! Then no one else would know you’re giving away BizMart secrets.”
“You calculating b***h! I’ll get you for this!”
“Absolutely. I’ll let you in the backdoor this afternoon. Meet me in the lobby at the hotel. At five.”
“You’re insane! Why should I see you after what you did to me?” He turned with outrage on his face.
“Don’t be coy. You loved every minute of it. Or should I say, every inch? Join me around five, or I’ll tell Casper you gave me the contact list for your board of directors.”
“I don’t think so!” Rich lurched toward Gretel but almost fell because his pants were around his thighs. He bent down to pull his pants back up.
While Rich’s guard was down, Gretel slapped his face with her left hand—still wearing the glove she had shoved up his anus. He reached up to rub the foul stench off his face. Gretel stooped, pulled his pants down to his ankles, and pushed him backward. Unable to regain his balance with his ankles tangled in his pants, Rich fell ingloriously on his butt. Grabbing her tweed coat and shopping bag, Gretel ran to the receptionist’s desk in the hallway of the suite of offices. Jessica rushed out of her office. “What have you done this time?” she demanded. Without waiting for an answer, she ran to Rich’s office.
With an insolent, victorious grin, Gretel announced, “He’s all yours.”
At Rich’s door, Jessica shot back, “You’ve gone too far!”
“I satisfied him! In a way that you’re too finicky to handle.” Gretel silently reprimanded herself. She didn’t have time for anger or jealousy.
The sound of Jessica’s voice diminished while she headed into Rich’s office. “Are you all right?” Then her explosive laugh reverberated throughout the suite. “Oh, Mr. Leckie! Look at you. I wish I had a camera!”
“Think this is funny, huh? You’re fired. I’ll get Mr. Waverly to make it official.”
I’ve already made Jessica’s firing official with Casper, Gretel thought exultantly, gloating at her triumph over both Jessica and Rich. Running into Jessica’s office, she peeled off her gloves and deposited them in the center of Jessica’s desk. She rushed back to the receptionist’s desk and put her wig, sunglasses, and coat back on. Stuffing all twelve copies of the board of directors contact list into her shopping bag, she slinked down the hall and into a stairwell before anyone spotted her. Pausing on a landing, she pulled out her cell phone, flipped it open, and made a call.
Without preamble, she told Bruiser, “Pick me up where you let me out. I just invited someone to join us at the hotel. If he doesn’t, his ass will be in a sling.”
“How about if I put his ass in a sling?”
“No, I don’t think so.” Gretel paused. “Actually, Bruiser, that sounds like a plan. But don’t beat him up. Just intimidate him. Your parole, you know. When you pick me up, I’ll outline exactly what you must do. Follow my orders, and I’ll be very nice to you.”
“You gonna give me some?” he asked bluntly.
Gretel strung him along. “We’ll talk about that on our way back to Chimera.”
“I knew it was too good to be true.” Bruiser realized when Gretel said, “Maybe,” she meant “No.” (And “No” meant “Hell no!”)
“Quitters never win,” she chided him. Her voice turned husky. “Short answer: I’m not going to give you some. Long answer: If you obey me explicitly, bust your hump, and give me the results I demand, maybe, just maybe, you’ll be able to earn some.”
Gretel hung up.
If Bruiser delivered for her, she’d con somebody else to get in the sack with him. Maybe Jessica. Gretel considered her own tail too precious to share with Bruiser.
- Writer
