The Sweep and the Noble Lady ~ Part I

“Annabelle,” Coralee Montgomery called out as she enter her 8,000 square foot ranch in Midland, Texas. Stopping just inside the entry way, her crystal green eyes sought out the female who should have been standing there waiting for her the moment she walked in the door. She swore it was so hard to find good, reliable help now a days.

Removing the large brim, white hat from her head and placing it on the mahogany table that sat in the middle of the spacious foyer, Coralee then ran her fingers through her dark red hair in frustration.

“Annabelle!”

While she believed that a good Southern woman should never raise her voice, Coralee decided there was a time and place where it would be considered acceptable. This would be one of those times. Before the last syllable could even leave her perfectly red glossed lips, Annabelle came scurrying down the long hall, her pale blue eyes wide with terror and her face pale.

“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Montgomery. I didn’t expect you home for at least another hour. Usually when you go shopping you aren’t home until four.”

“Well I am so sorry to put a damper on your schedule. Now go fetch my bags from the car and bring them to my room.” Dismissing the maid with a wave of her hand, she started towards the solarium, but paused to glance back over her shoulder. “Have you happen to see Mr. Montgomery today?”

Somehow her question managed to have her maid growing even paler, causing Coralee’s eyebrows to raise in question. When she received no response, she turned fully towards Annabelle, her green eyes darkening as a slow simmering anger started to ignite inside her.

“I said, have you seen my husband today?”

On an audible swallow, Annabelle nodded her head. “Yes ma’am. Last time I saw him he was heading to the kitchen. That would have been about thirty minutes ago.”

“Oh was he now?” It seemed that her maid wasn’t the only one that had expected her to return at a later hour. Coralee wasn’t a stupid woman by a long shot, and she was fully aware what her husband, Jefferson, had been up to when she wasn’t at home. It was one of the reasons she decided to cut her shopping trip short. It was time her no good, cheating husband was caught. Dismissing Annabelle for the second time, she changed directions and headed straight towards the kitchen.

It was the one room in the house she never felt the need to spend anytime in. She didn’t cook, and she certainly didn’t clean, she hired people to do that. She tended to avoid even entering the kitchen altogether, but this time she was making an exception. The moment she stepped foot in there today, she found exactly what she expected to find. It was empty.

A pan had been left on the stove, and food was laid out on the counter as if whomever planned to prepare that night’s meal had vanished into thin air. Coralee knew that the cook hadn’t gone far though. As she stood in the center of the room, quiet as a mouse, she heard the sound she was looking for and it was coming from behind the closed door of the pantry.

**********

Jefferson Montgomery currently had his hands full. The lush curves, and soft, supple skin of Tamara’s breast filled his palms as he played. The soft moans she was making was enough to have his cock hardening to the point of madness. With her pressed against the far wall of the pantry, her skirt hiked up to her hips, shirt torn open and her wild ebony hair unbound, framing her exotic features, she looked like every man’s fantasy come true. All he was thinking, though, was how he wanted to fuck her until she was screaming. His hand left her breast and trailed down the front of her body until he reached the smooth, bare skin at the juncture of her thighs. He cupped her sex, his middle finger pressing against her seem to find her wet and wanting.

“Please, Jefferson,” she moaned in a desperate tone. “We don’t have a lot of time and I need you.”

“I know you do, sweets. You’re already soaking wet.” Another finger joined in on the play, causing Tamara’s hips to buck. She was right though, they didn’t have much time. His wife would be home soon and the last thing he needed was for her to walk in on him fucking the cook. While he had his suspicions she knew exactly what he had been doing for the last month, Coralee had yet to speak a word of it. The suspicion was there in her eyes though. The subtle ways she would study him when she crawled into their bed at night. What he could never allow, was for her to find out. If she ever left him, he would end up penniless. It was her who had the money. Her who owned the ranch and the stables. He had no doubt that she would make him pay for straying. But what was a man to do? His own wife had become cold and distance and hadn’t allowed him to touch her in weeks. Jefferson needed to find another source for his pent up frustrations. It just so happened he had found it between the thighs of their cook. Really, who could possibly blame him?

Sliding his fingers deep inside Tamara’s pussy, he pressed his thumb against her clit and started rub. “Tell me want you want, sweets.”

With her plush pink lips parted, Tamara’s half-closed chocolate brown eyes met his and she moaned her answer. “I need you to take me. God, please, Jefferson. I need you.”

His hand quickly disappeared from her heat and grabbed hold of her hips, lifting her until her legs her wrapped tightly around his waist. With one palm pressed against the wall behind her head and the other keeping a tight grip on her, he plunged his cock deep inside with one hard thrust. The cry that sounded from her lips echoed around the small room and had him fucking her hard. There was nothing gentle or loving about the way he took her. This wasn’t about feeling. Wasn’t about trying to woo and charm the female. No, all this was about was rough, hard, punishing sex. The kind that built up inside you until you exploded and it left you sated. That’s all Jefferson wanted.

Dropping his lips to her neck, he gently bit at her sensitive skin as he slammed into her. He knew she would end up with bruises by the way her body was banging back against the wall, but he couldn’t seem to find it in him to care. All she was to him was a body he could release into, and he was so fucking close to that release. All it would take was a couple more thrusts. That was, if she hadn’t gone completely stiff in his arms and stopped thrusting those sinful hips back against him.

Releasing his mouth from her neck, he lifted his head to find out just what had caused her to stop. What he had found was something that had his stomach knotting in dread. Tamara’s eyes were wide and her breath was coming out harsh and fast, but Jefferson knew it had nothing to do with the way he had been driving into her. No, what he saw clearly on her face was pure horror.

Following to where her eyes were staring helplessly, Jefferson looked over his shoulder and his whole world stopped. The door to the pantry was wide open and standing just outside it was his wife. Her long, curly red hair framed a face that looked like it could be made from stone. Vibrant green eyes narrowed with so much animosity and disgust he was surprised that fire wasn’t igniting from them. With her arms crossed just underneath her full breasts, causing them to threaten to spill over the white, silk sleeveless top she wore, he felt his cock start to twitch at the sight, causing Tamara to let out a surprised gasp. Yeah, he probably shouldn’t be getting so turned on by the way Coralee was standing there, most likely planning his death, but he couldn’t help it. She had a body made for sin, and the way her short, navy blue shirt was hugging her hips and showing off those mile long legs, that only looked longer in her fuck me pumps, had every inch of him yearning to toss Tamara aside and throw his wife down on the nearest table and take her like an animal. Not that she would ever let, especially now.

Quickly withdrawing himself from the warm, heat of Tamara’s body, not even noticing that when he stepped back she nearly fell onto the floor, he tucked his still hard as stone cock back into his pants then held up his hands.

“Buttercup, it’s not what you think. You know I love you. It’s just a man has needs…” He wasn’t able to get another word out before Coraless growled at him, cutting him off.

“Needs? You have fucking needs?” Her hand shot out, pointing directly at the cook. “Is that what you need? Well you’re going to have a hard time fulfilling those needs now since the whore is fired.” Turning her attention on Tamara, causing the poor girl to grab her torn shirt and try to cover herself the best she could. “Get out of my house and if I ever see you’re face again… Honey, let’s just say it won’t just be this ranch you’ll be banished from. Do I make myself clear?”

Without responding, Tamara pushed off the wall and ran from the room, tears streaking down her face. Jefferson should probably feel sorry for her, it wasn’t completely her fault, but he was too busy watching his wife and the rage that seemed to be turning him on more than the maid had ever been able to.

Slowly he approached, hoping his face showed the correct amount of regret and self-hatred.

“Forgive me, buttercup. I was wrong, I know it. You know you’re the only woman I will ever love.” When he reached her, he lifted his hand and gently brushed it against her check. Then she smiled up at him, a slow, devastating smile that had his heart kicking into high gear.

“Oh my slow, stupid, can’t seem to keep it in his pants, husband.” Her voice was sugary sweet and those eyes that had moments ago held so much hatred had softened. “You’re not going to get off that easy.” Her lips curved up in a devious little smile. “In fact, it will be quite a while before you get off again. There is a saying in my family. Do unto others, as you would have them do unto you. Well, darling, I’m about to do unto you exactly what you’ve been doing to me.”

Jefferson’s face pinched up tight, not liking where she was heading with this conversation at all. “Exactly what are you trying to say, Coralee?”

“It’s simple really. By my calculations, you and the maid have fucked behind my back on eight separate occasions over the last month. That means for the next eight days and nights I’ll have my own little affair. You will not say a thing about it. You will not try to stop me, and you certainly won’t take issue with it. Once the eighth day is over I will decide whether or not you are still worth my time and see if you have learned your lesson.”

His stomach dropped and an overwhelming surge of jealousy started to eat at him. Another man touch his wife? He would kill whoever it was that even thought to do that. He was about to tell her just that when he realized that if he didn’t allow her to do this, there was no doubt that she would leave him. He had no choice. Especially since he was the one that had put himself in his current position in the first place.

Standing just beyond the door of the pantry, the smell of sex still heavy in the air, he watched as his wife turned her back on him and started to walk away. Her shoulders back, hips swinging in a seductive manner. The sight she made was going to leave him hard and wanting for over a week, and that was if she decided to take him back. What he needed at that moment was a drink. A really stiff one. 

The Lady And Her Five Suitors: Part One

“This is a collect call from a prisoner at the Qatar Prison Camp. Caller, state your name now…”

Jamila clutched her phone doing her best to keep her hand from shaking as she heard the rough, gravely voice respond over the line. “Hassan”

The automated voice kept Jamila from losing it right then and there. “You are not obligated to accept this call, if you accept QPC is not liable for any harm that may come to you and you may be subject to state interrogations. Please chose carefully. Do you accept the charges?”

“Yes.” She couldn’t say no, she couldn’t just leave him in the camp with no explanation of how he ended up in there. They were so close to their freedom, how could he fuck it all up like this?

There was a click on the line and Hassan cleared his throat. It was a signal for her not to say anything that might tip off anyone who might be listening… And she knew as well as he did that someone was always listening. Jamila let out a soft sigh and finally spoke. “So, brother? What sort of mess have you gotten yourself into this time?”

“It was a simple misunderstanding. An old debt that I had paid back, but someone else thought I still owed. It ended in a brawl and unfortunately I was detained by peacekeepers. They say I have a record, that I can’t leave here. I keep telling them they have the wrong person but they insist that I am a wanted man. I need you to come visit me, come and bless me with your presence. It will calm my time inside this hell hole, sister.”

Another code… Hassan needed her to come and seduce the guards so that he could make a get away. Of course they had the right man, Hassan was wanted in all of the controlled territories. Apparently his last attempt to scrub his fingerprints from the international database hadn’t worked. Another ten million credits down the drain. If only he hadn’t been caught, they could be on the plane and be free in less than three hours. Lebanon, she sighed again and glanced down at the plane tickets on the table, it was her only chance at freedom and the only chance for her and Hassan to live a normal life. Now that was slipping away.

“Of course, brother. It would honor me to do so.” She wanted to gag on the words, pretending to be brother and sister when in truth he was her lover. Her only respite from a cold and menacing husband. Her husband was away on business and this had been the perfect opportunity for her to flee.

“Thank you. I’ll see you soon.”

The line went dead. Minutes ticked by as Jamila eyed the tickets. Maybe she should just run without him, let him rot in the mess he’d made for himself. She shook her head. There was no leaving him, without him her heart was empty. But there were problems with his plan, problems that could be deadly. Qatar Prison Camp wasn’t your run of the mill detainment facility. It was impenetrable, high-tech, and with security precautions around every corner. Even for a legal prisoner release it would take the signatures of the four most powerful men in the region: the Kazi, the Wali, the Wazir, and the King. Her eyes lit up, that was the answer. A legal release, it would not only get him out but it would also clear his record.

She paced the living room and called in one of her maids. “Do we have any compression suits?”

“Yes, ma’am. But only one right now, the master took the rest with him on his trip.”

Jamila’s nose wrinkled at the though of her husband dressing up in one of the suits in order to seduce yet another young woman to add to his growing list of wives. It made her stomach churn, but she had fallen for his false charms as well when she was younger and so did her father. She was her master’s first wife and as such she was given the luxury of having her own home away from the others, she never mingled with them, never acknowledged them. To her they were nothing, but now they would be there to hopefully distract from her absence at least for a few days once her husband returned and she and Hassan were safe in Lebanon.

Her maid said something but Jamila was lost in thought. Finally she shook her head. “What was that?”

“Would you like us to make some more? There is still enough material left over to sew a few more suits.”

A sly smile spread across Jamila’s crimson lips. “Yes, four more please. And call the carpenter. Tell him I have a job for him and I will pay handsomely.” Grabbing scrap of paper she jotted down measurements and a rough sketch then handed it to her maid. “I need it for storage, and it is a rush job, I’ll pay triple his going rate, plus ten thousand in unified credits.”

The maids eyebrow shot up. “What will we be storing?”

“Something valuable.”

The woman nodded and ran out of the penthouse. Jamila turned her attention to the window that took up the entire eastern wall and looked down on the bustling city below. She tapped her manicured finger nail against the glass plotting for what would be her last chance to escape her high-rise prison.

There was a reason her husband kept her locked up in her penthouse. He fell under her spell when she was barely out childhood. Now he feared that any man who might look upon her would be captured by her beauty and would try to take her from him. For a greedy man, Jamila was his prize possession. And while he kept other wives, she was always the grand prize. Now her curse that had shackled her to a wretched man would help her free her lover. At least if all went according to plan.

It didn’t take long to dress up, the clothes she choose both accentuated her assets and covered enough to evoke some mystery. Tight mini-skirt, low-cut silk blouse, all in black. Her eyes were lined with Kohl, her lips stained red. Last but not least she grabbed her burqa and slid it over her more modern clothing. Covered from head to toe by the dark fabric she slipped her feet into her favorite pair of black high heels and grabbed her keys.

The car was waiting for her as soon as she left the building. Downside of being held captive was that everyone always knew when you were leaving. The driver stood holding the door open for her. “Where to, Lady Fehr?”

“I have some errands to run.” Luckily for her she had her driver wrapped around her little finger. As she passed by him she ran her hand over his crotch and laughed as the man gave a frustrated groan.

“The usual spot then?”

“Yes, after that you’ll give me the car for three hours. No questions asked.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She grinned beneath her veil. Men were so easy to manipulate, but what she had planned next might not be as easy as seducing her driver. It would take all her cunning to pull off this plan.

An hour later she was pulling into the gated parking lot of Qatar Prison Camp. She stepped out of the car and shed the black burqa in the passenger seat. Adjusting her mini skirt she strolled purposely towards the entrance. The man working the electronic monitoring system sized her up and down, licking his lips as his gaze settled on her cleavage. “Can I help you, miss?”

“My name is Lady Jamila Fehr. My brother has been detained here and I have a visitation request to see him.”

The man glanced at his records and nodded. “I see he called you this morning?”

She leaned over the desk and glanced at the phone records from this morning. “Yes.”

“It says here in your conversation he asked you to come bless him, he says he’s innocent and wishes you to give him peace while he works at clearing his name?”

“Yes, that is correct.” She shifted her hips, arching her back slightly to give him a better look down her shirt.

“You know in order for anyone to be released from this facility you will need a signed document from the Kazi, the Wali, the Wazir, and the King. That won’t be an easy task.”

Jamila leaned forward, giving her best innocent look. “Oh no. My brother must be in some terrible danger. May I speak to the Kazi now?”

“Well… He’s usually very busy. I might be able to get you in for a price.”

Her eyebrow shot upward. “A price?”

The man pulled open a draw at his desk and held up a pair of silk panties. “I like to collect things.”

Inwardly she smiled, outwardly she blushed. “I’m so embarrassed, I couldn’t possibly… It’s indecent.”

The man grinned. “If you want your brother freed, then you will do it. And if you let me take them off of you I’ll make sure you get in to see all four of them today.”

Jackpot. Her innocent act would only hold up so much longer, now was the time to seal the deal. She nodded and turned around, bending over the desk. “Make it quick, please, I can’t bare this shame.”

He was on his feet and around the desk in a matter of seconds. She reached back and shimmied her skirt up exposing her ass to him. The black silk panties she wore were thin enough to give him full view of every inch of her. He let out a low whistle. His clammy hands ran up her thighs and hooked the sides of her panties, slowly tugging them off. He was a creep, that was for sure but luckily he was a creep who knew his boundaries, he was merely an ‘all look but no touch’ kind of man which worked in her favor. As soon as he had his prize he buzzed the door open. “First door on your right. The Wali will be in the blue hall, it’s the office with no door. The Wazir will be walking the c-block hall way where your brother is located. And the King will be in his chamber. I’ll notify all of them they will be having a visitor very soon.”

She nodded and headed for the first door on her right. Show-time…

The Sultan and the Beggar P1

Depressing; The only word that could best describe this past week. Gloomy was too dramatic, discouraging wasn't strong enough of a word; dismal is only something authors write in novels to sound impressive. Depressing fit, if only to be properly paired with the following word; Bankrupt.  David Lawrence was going bankrupt for two reasons; his business was going downhill and his wife was divorcing him. The former was accredited to the economy, banks refusing lending capitol, stock holders pulling out but his wife; the woman he had been married to for 11 years.  that was a punch in the gut. He leaned over on his lazy chair to pick up the photo of them at the last year's office Christmas party. Ravishing; her blonde hair pulled to the side from the pony tail affixed from the back top of her head. The familiar retro bouffant puff made with her bangs revealed the little secret that the curtains didn't match the carpet. He wasn't sure what her fixation with being blonde was, the reason he began dating her was for her brunette locks. The photo had caught her laughing at a joke he had made, the memory curled his mouth into a smile. She had been depressed for a few years now. When they started dating he had mentioned that he wasn't interested in having children. It seemed perfect that she shared the same view. The process was too messy, the aggravation too much hassle, plus the cost and then adding to the overpopulation of humanity seemed rather irrational. It was perfect, she was perfect. Until 4 years ago, when nature decided to intervene with its pre-programmed database. The choice was easy when there was a choice, but as she approached 40 and the clock started to wine down. The thought of not having the choice anymore made her anxious to choose again. They fought but it was in vain; he knew she wouldn't give up. He loved her stubbornness but only when it came to decisions that affected her career and their business. So he compromised on adopting, but that was only a temporary band aid for the discussion. Her decision wasn't emotional, it was biological. The only solution viable was birthing. So they tried, and tried and tried. Finally after a much provoked test result, they realized that the only way to get her pregnant was through In Vitro, test tubes or a Petri dish rather. It worked. She was pregnant in two weeks and the baby was healthy…at least for the first trimester. He knew she blamed him. Whether it was because he was stalling, or for being infertile it didn't matter. She was grief stricken and there was nothing he could do to pull her out of it or so he thought.

Looking again at the photo, her head was thrown back and her teeth were accentuating the gleam in her eyes. She was happy, happier than she had been at least.  Her bright red dress snugged her curves and came to a halt at the mid of her thighs. A bit revealing for a Christmas party but she was in a good mood and he wasn't going to interfere with that.  The familiar gleam in her eyes that  …."wait a minute...". Leaning forward David brought the photo closer for examination. In the photo he was standing next to her, his eyes fixated on her smile but hers, hers were leaned away from him towards….

"That Bitch!"

 Glass shattered as the frame hit the wall, landing beside the home entertainment. "Fucking cunt!" The insults started flowing, as the logic took place and the puzzle fell together. "No wonder!"  Blood began racing to his face. "I need a drink." Rising from the lazy-boy David marched over to the private bar in the butler's pantry and pulled out his favorite scotch.  Short from drinking straight from the bottle he downs several drinks before he is able to relax his face and take a breath. His gaze blurs as the alcohol takes effect, the all too familiar numb feeling  creeping over his face. "She knew all along, she knew" The despondent emails, the distant looks, the all too quick phone calls and then suddenly….. David took it as a good sign, thinking that all the hoops he had been jumping through were finally paying off; the couples therapy, the grief counseling, even the ridiculous retreat in Hawaii. But now he knew the cause of her happiness.  "Whore" he jeered. "Women are soo damn dunning."  Cunning; that was his intended word but the next stage of drunkenness had begun.

The door whined open, distracting his attention for just a moment as two long legs walked in staged upon some elevated black heals. The double bounce in her step, an extra sway in her hips moved her torso in that seductive way he usually found appealing. "What" he barked. Her feet stopped, the black dress kept going.  Her eyes enveloped the situation.

You're drunk.

 Thank you Capt'n ob-ious

Wh-?

Why the fuck not?! 

I'm not spending time with you when you're drunk, you know we-

“I know what!” The glare seeped through the corner of his eye before he faced her; I know you women are alwaysss conniving, plotting againsst uhs.

Her eyes rolled into aggravation, her defense against the trembling she felt.  This again? Can't you just let it go?

Let it go? I jus dis-cuvord my wife haf been chea-ing on me since last Chrss-mas, an’ you wan’ me to let, it go?!!

So?! You are too! He was too blind to see how that fact affected her, too blind and too drunk.

That's different!

She paused.

--h-how….h, the tears were choking her words, is this different?  There was truth approaching and she was unprepared; swallowing was her only line of defense.

Because, my dear Danielle.  The scotch infected every cell of every organ and took over like a master to a marionette.  His blind rage now had a target and she was in his crosshairs.

I was never. Ever. Going to leave her. Not for anyone, and especially not for YOU. His cockiness propelled the verbal daggers, slicing up every ounce of will power she contained. The tears exploded as did the sobs. The only ounce of strength she had was used to keep from falling to her knees.

Now…he growled in a whisper, get out-slut. For a moment Danielle was frozen in place until she saw the scotch glass hurling towards her face. She ducked, but not far enough to avoid the heavy corner of the base bouncing off her head and shattering on the wall. Fear kicked up the survival instinct as she ran for the door.

Another Bitch deserts me.

David returns to the bar grabbing another glass. The last clear memory he had of that night.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I got it I got it!!!  Christopher was still glowing that night as he was sitting at the bar with a drink in one hand and a companion in the other. He couldn't afford her but thanks to his looks and good natured magnetism she found herself temporarily enjoying his celebration of one. However at this point he was using her more for a support than an ornament.

I got it baby, I got the job! Maybe in a year I'll be able to properly take you out on the town and paint it red.

A year? Her coy smile poked the little bit of his ego that wasn't swimming in alcohol.

N-no. s-sixx monthssss an' I'll buy you a nicce dressssssss. His eyelids drooped leading the progressing direction of his body heading towards the floor. She grabbed him but rather than keep him from becoming intimate with the floor she managed to allow him to keep an arm’s length relationship with it. He awoke sitting on the wooden planks her arms wrapped around his chest, laughing. That was a closs’ one Charleeeen! Thaaanks!

I think it's time for you to head home sweetheart. The downward angle of her torso gave him full view of what he couldn't afford her breasts only inches from his nose. The seduction made him agreeable.

You the’nk?

Yes. Paul will you call a cab for him? The bartender was already on the phone and nodded his acknowledgement.

Let's get you some water sweetie.

OK!

Fifteen minutes later Charlene walked back into the bar after helping Christopher into his cab and waved goodbye.

Paul lifted an eyebrow, "Feeling a bit-charitable there?"

Relax Paul, he didn't leave me hanging. She raises her hand with three twenty dollar bills.

"oh my mistake, pity is the word."

“Hey! A quick glare before she pulls out a thoughtful smile, he's a sweet kid besides that's how I got my start hanging on the arms of successful men; At least before they wanted more.”

“Well, I hope this one comes back for yah. Maybe he's that charming prince you've been wishing for. Yah know the one to make your Cinderella dreams come true." Paul tosses a quick wink before returning his focus to cleaning the wine glass.

“Those dreams are for starter girls Paul. I'm too experienced for that“.  Charlene places her chin gently upon the back of her wrist as her eyes wander through the empty bar.

“Still, you're too beautiful to be left to grow old alone”.

“I'm also too smart to be doing tricks”.  She exhales into a long sigh.

“Here let's have a drink ...on me”.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

“Mr. Lawrence, sir… Sir”.

Benjamin was leaning over as David was lying on the cold granite floor. While in better shape than his boss, Benjamin could only assist David in walking himself to bed. Carrying him was more suited to men half his age, if they cared enough.

“Mr. Lawrence, please get up. The cold floor isn't befitting for a man of your stature”. The moan emanating from the motionless body let the butler know there was life still inside. “Come sir, let's put you to bed. I've already arranged to have your appointments rescheduled”.

Benjamin helped David up and assisted the limping CEO to the neighboring guest room. Once the confined garments were removed and the sheets rolled on top, Benjamin began to make his leave. "Ben" the muffled noise sounded like a whine than a request.

Yes sir.

Danielle.

“Yes, I've made arrangements to have Ms. Danielle receive her favorite bouquet of flowers this afternoon with a letter of apology”.

The body rolled over in response.

“Sir”.  The door clicked and left the drunk to sleep off his ailment.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Smile! The lady behind the security podium pressed the enter key on the keyboard and a flash lit Christopher's face. Walking over to the desk he tried to blink away the black circle that was now obstructing his view from the pretty security clerk. Or at least pretty from what he remembered. Here ya go! She handed him his id card and recited the procedures of use & precautions as a well trained monkey would. He gave his polite response and began heading towards the metal detectors excited to begin his training at the biggest company he had ever worked for.

“Wait.”

Hearing the command of authority he froze. “I-is something wrong?”

“I just thought you should know, you ...look like him”. She blushed before turning her head towards her monitor.

“Like who?” He was puzzled; no one had ever told him he looked like a celebrity before. The thought excited him. Getting closer to the desk he prodded. “Who do I look like?”

The red crept up the sides of her cheeks and was crossing the bridge of her nose, it was cute. “L-Like David Lawrence… The CEO?”

Stunned he didn't know how to take the compliment as he wasn't sure he had ever seen a picture of the CEO. But judging by the reaction of the girl in front of him it was a good thing.  “Thank you.”  He winked. Her lips pressed against her teeth into a bright smile. Christopher tucked away the thought that he might have to ask her out. Someday, after he’s gone up a few rungs on the ladder of course.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was a sick day. David never took many sick days, even when he decided to be home bound he was still in contact with the company through emails and his assistant. The throbbing in his head kept the thoughts at bay and the pain in his stomach kept him from going anywhere. Instead he was sitting on the guest bed, eating crepes in front of the tv, with the volume on low.  It was pleasant, the birds gently chirping outside, soft ambient light floated throughout the room. Ben walked through the open door. “Sir your coffee, how are the crepes?”

 Delicious Ben, is this a new recipe?

No sir, we ran out of butter so I improvised and used coconut oil.

Wonderful Ben, you should try that with a few more recipes; that might cut down on my waistline too.

Very good sir.

Have you seen this show Ben?

Sir?

It's called "Secret Boss".

Unfortunately sir, I have not. However I have heard the girls talk about it and they say it's splendid.

Ah, it's hilarious. These dim-wits dress up as their employees, working next to them and doing the same work they do.

“Yes sir, hilarious.” With David’s attention fixated on the TV. Ben rolled his eyes in dismay.

It's incredulous that these CEOs give their workers so much money after going through what they do. They should turn it around and have the workers spend a day in our shoes. Then they might quit complaining about how much crap they have to deal with.

David slowly put his fork down.

“That's it.”

Sir?

I should do that; I should have one of those lazy asses that work in my company walk in my shoes for a day and watch as they squirm under the pressure. I doubt they would last an hour with my workload.

I'll call the stockholders.

No, no Ben. That won't be necessary.

How else will you be able to allow another person work in your place sir?

I'll think of something. But keep that in mind. I've enjoyed today, and I could use a few more like it. Just keep it a secret. I don't want anyone knowing about it. The media is already having a field day with my divorce; those hungry vultures can starve for all I care.

Sir.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Deliverer of secrets, protector of deadlines he is…..

Christopher!

“Y-yes?” Christopher's attention was blinked to the man standing next to his cart.

“That's your name right?” The man touched the security id tag hanging on Christopher's shirt.

Yes sir.

You are early with the mail.

Yes.

You're also a dreamer I see.

I-uh..yeah.

So was the last guy….

Christopher winced at the notion that he was already being compared to the previous mail clerk, the one that was fired.

 I-I uh.

“Listen”, the man in the grey suit leaned forward. “Being early is a pro, you keep that con in check and you're already ahead of that other guy.”

Christopher grinned, he could feel the tightness of his collar cling to his skin. “Thanks.”

The man reached out his hand, “Name's Robert. I can give you advice but you screw up and you're on your own. “

Christopher took his hand and gave a firm shake. “Thank you. Any help is appreciated.”

“First job after flipping burgers, huh?”

Stunned, Christopher blinked. “How'd…..”

Your shirt, it has some oil stains near the buttons. You might want to get that fixed if you want to climb the ladder here.

Y-yes! Of course.

Robert smiled a chuckle,  “Have a good day Christopher.”

Christopher pulled his shirt out to take a better look and there it was; a discolored spot next to the button.  Miffed he started pushing the cart forward and continued his rounds.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

His eyes were dry. It had been almost 3 minutes since David had blinked. Though what he was looking at was too coincidental to look away. There on the monitor was a security profile of a new employee that looked identical to him. Younger, more physically adept but then again 20 years ago he was coming out of college so he too would have looked as lean. No question. This kid could have been him….or his son. David leaned back his eyes bathing in moisture as he looked through his memory to be sure that wasn't the case. Well, if he had fathered a son it was too late to claim child support now!

Then it happened. That light came on and the feeling of shock transformed into a state of glee. This was his ticket! This was the answer David had been looking for to set up his experiment. He reached over to his phone and pressed the redial button. "Ben! I've got good news, I've found a way to get around the red tape."

Sudden Debt: Merchant and the Jinni Part I

“Must you go?”

Behruz groaned at the gentle plea of his wife and smiled when her hand found a path down to his morning erection, propping up the silk bedding. Shirin hated when he made these long trips to Dubai, but a business man of his position needed to remain abreast of the latest textiles and tradable goods. He made his small fortune bringing such commerce to their modest village in Oman, and he was not about to relax until they had a stronger foothold on the market. 

Behruz rolled over and nudged Shiran’s thighs apart with his knee, positioning himself between. Balancing his weight on his arms, he stared down at his beautiful wife, skin smooth and deeper than the desert sand at sunset. He rubbed the blunt tip of his cock along her slick seam, petal soft gates, guarding his one true treasure in this world. Long, lavender fingernails raked lines down his back, marking their territory. He was hers and hers alone.

Tales of the Night Part One

“He’s going to know I’m wearing a wire.” I grumbled as I held up the belly dancing costume. “There’s no place to hide anything with this.”

Matt snorted. “You’re going to have an ear piece and a wireless mic in your necklace, as long as he doesn’t run a scanner over you, you’ll be fine.”

That was easy for him to say, he wasn’t the one who was going to be dancing in front of a suspected murderer. In a very revealing belly dancing ensemble, with the very high risk of getting kidnapped. This was routine though, Matt would be my backup. In the chance something happened, I knew I was in good hands. Though we both knew I’d push the mission until I got the information I needed— enough to tie him to the crimes and murders that have been plaguing the city for almost a year now. Tall, slender, dark haired women had gone missing from this particular restaurant and half of them showed up dead. The only links between the girls were that they all had ties to a BDSM club and they were either dancers at the restaurant or were told to meet someone there. I met all the requirements and had been trained for this mission. We were just hoping he’d take the bait.

“Okay, get dressed, you’re due to dance in a few minutes.” Matt turned his back. “You know I’m not going to let anything happen to you, right?”

He was a great partner and we had been through so much in the three years that we worked together. I knew he wouldn’t let me down. “Do I look scared? I’ve been face to face with a murderer before.” I shimmied out of my dress pants and blouse.

“Just not one that we actually want to kidnap you.”

There was that. I let out a forced laugh. “Look, I’ve got this. The tracker and mic are in the necklace, as long as that makes it to the location with me, you’ll know where I am. I’m not scared of him.” Not yet. I pulled on the belly dancing outfit, the long skirt flowed around my ankles and the top jingled as I tied it around my ribs and my neck.

“I know.” He turned around and I saw something dark in his eyes. “I just have a bad feeling about this.”

I flashed him a smile. “There’s nothing I can’t handle. That’s why we got into this business in the first place. Adventure, helping people in need. We need to get this guy off the streets.” Thought they hadn’t joined the FBI together, they both went in for the same reasons and had always wanted to do undercover operations. A perfect match for partners.

“Okay superwoman. Let’s get you out on the floor to dance your way into his heart.” He shook his head and gave me a quick hug before I walked out of the room. The restaurant was a small, family run Moroccan place, the patrons sat on the floor at low tables and ate traditional seven course meals. The tables bordered the walls leaving the carpeted floor clear for the dancers. I took a deep breath and signaled for the music to start. I let the beat take over my body and led me swaying into the carefully choreographed dance. Dancing was something that always brought me peace and came naturally to me. My hips moved to the music in a classic belly dance fashion, each of my moves isolated and pleasing to the eye.

My gaze scanned over the small crowd in the room as I moved. Matt’s voice came into my earpiece, “the man in front of you, with the two big guys flanking him. That’s our suspect, Zach Remond.”

I took note of the man. He was handsome, his skin a tan shade, his jet-black hair was slicked back leaving his eyes clear. From where I stood his pupils seemed to take over the irises of his eyes, leaving them black pools in a sea of white. He and his two goons were dressed in expensive suites. The other two men were both blonde and generic; I could have pegged them as bodyguards a mile away.

Moving with the music I made my way around the tables allowing people to tip me. Zach waved a five-dollar bill at me and I turned and winked over my shoulder before moving toward him with the beat of the music. I shimmied my hips as he tucked the bill and a note into my skirt. The ending of the song approached and I stayed at his table for my last moves, ending with an elaborate arch of my back so I could meet his gaze.

Back in the room, I stripped off my costume and put my clothes back on. The plan was for Matt to explore the perimeter of the building while I got dressed. I flipped open the note and glanced at it.

Meet me out back.

Oh yes, this man was mistaking belly dancer with whore, but it was my job to put myself in his hands so we could figure out if he was the murder or not. I shoved my costume in my bag and muttered. “Meeting our target out back.”

There was no response, but that didn’t mean Matt wasn’t there. No, it just meant that he was being cautious. I made my way out of the changing room and to the back of the building. Typical of dark alleys, the light touched hardly anything, limiting my vision. I could make out the shapes of the dumpsters and wondered what had happened to the security light most places had outside. I heard the footsteps behind me, but I was supposed to be playing innocent dancer, not kick ass FBI agent.

When an arm wrapped around me, part of my instincts kicked in and I started to struggle. I slammed a foot into my attacker’s arch and tried to pull away, but a cloth wrapped around my mouth and my vision went black.

Cold air dancing across my skin made me shiver. I opened my eyes to find myself in a windowless room. My first question was what had happened to my clothes? I was naked and shivering in a room with a few standing lamps, pillows and blankets all over the floor and my hands were cuffed together. My mind went to worst case scenarios, but a quick inventory of my body told me that everything was fine and nothing nefarious happened without my consent.  In the corner of the room I saw my clothing neatly folded and my necklace on top of the pile. At least it was still in the room with me. I could only hope that the microphone was still on.

“Sadie?” Matt’s voice sounded in my ear and I instantly relaxed.

“I’m here, can you hear me? The necklace is on the other side of the room.”

“Loud and clear. Describe to me where you’re at?”

I looked around the room again and sighed. “Nowhere noticeable. No windows, plan white walls. The door has a deadbolt that requires a key and I haven’t seen anyone since I woke up.”

“I’m within five miles of you since I can still hear you.” The GPS would still be active unless the necklace was destroyed, but there was nothing like a comforting voice in my ear.

“Don’t freak out if I disappear. Keep your mic safe.”

I stood from the floor and tried to walk over to it, but stopped half way there with a jerk on my arms. “I’m not able to get to it.” The door jostled and I cursed, I hadn’t been able to hear anyone outside, which meant that they were either quiet or the room was sound proof. Neither was to my advantage.

I quickly went back to my spot and narrowed my eyes at the door as Zach walked in. “If you wanted a private dance, chloroforming and kidnapping me was not the way to ask.” I gave him my best coy smile and batted my eyes at him.

“Do not kid yourself Special Agent Peters, I know exactly who you are.”

Fuck.