The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“We are changing,” I told her.

“Are we?” she asked. “If that’s the case, the changes must be good. I don’t think I’ve ever been happier in my life.”

Following dinner, she had asked me if she could turn the thermostat down early. We had begun watching TV on the couch together. I’m not really sure when the tradition had started, but she had somehow gotten me to approve cuddling together under a blanket while we watched; and that was the case now, with my arm around her nude body while she clung to me intimately. We both wanted more. She was having her period; and, while I’m sure she would have agreed in a second to any sexual suggestion I might make, it was not my desire. I had started her on birth control pills (it was part of the plan), and you could set your watch to her cycle now. Anyway, as I’ve mentioned before, I particularly detest blood, almost as much as I detest a mess. The previous month, she had satisfied me with her hands, with her mouth; but I didn’t want that, either. It’s not so much that I cared about her romantically as it was the rush I got from dominating her to the point of orgasm. I liked to imagine myself forcing her to experience pleasure. I wanted that again; but not now.

It was as if she could read my mind. “Tomorrow,” she promised softly. I couldn’t understand why she was blushing. Women are unfathomable.

“Are you ready to start to work on Monday.”

She smiled anxiously. “I can’t wait! But I’m so nervous! I know there are a thousand ways I could disappoint you!”

I patted her on the bare knee, hoping I was being supportive without being condescending. “I know that you’ll do just fine,” I told her. This was all new to me. I never really saw a reason to compliment people before. Most of the time, they were just doing their jobs.

She sighed and grinned. She had a nice smile. More than nice. I tried hard not to let my mind put a price tag on it; but there was little doubt: that smile was worth a lot to me. And, combined with the sigh that had so inadvertently, so innocently, expanded her chest, the smile was much, much more than just “nice.” It was an invitation to fill your head with exotic fantasies.

Six weeks before, on the eve of the surgery, I’m not sure what I had anticipated; but whatever that had been, this new look surpassed it. The angry purple bruises had slowly given way to sickly, dark yellow splotches that covered most of her face. The rows of tiny stitches were removed by the doc during the next visit to our apartment … at least those that were visible; while an equal number of stitches insider her mouth and nose either fell out or dissolved. There were some rather prevalent scars on her cheeks; and the ones at each corner of her mouth somehow reminded me of the makeup they had used on “The Joker” in one of the Batman movies. But the scars faded and finally disappeared somewhere around the one-month mark, leaving skin that still wasn’t quite right, but that was easily touched up with a little makeup. And even that was improving, week to week.

What I hadn’t expected were dimples. That had not been part of the package, nor of my overall scheme; at least, not in my mind’s eye. They weren’t part of the scarring associated with the mouth, and I asked the doc point-blank if he had taken it upon himself to add the feature. He, in turn, got pretty defensive, and pointed out that they had been there all along; they’d just been overshadowed by her other facial features. Quite frankly, I’m not sure if I ever truly believed him; but dimples were certainly a prevalent part of her face now. It took me quite a while to realize that I really hadn’t seen her smile that much during those first few days that I had known her … at least, not like she was smiling now. They were sort of transformative, those smiles. They had a habit of changing the mood of everything around her.

I swear, I didn’t notice it right away. Those first four weeks of her convalescence, when she was cloistered in the apartment, her smiles were sort of goofy, love-struck things that let me know she was mine, heart and soul. Not that it affected me much; but that was part of the plan, and I encouraged it. After that, however, around mid-November, I took her out for walks to give her exercise and fresh air, and I began experiencing things I’d never encountered before. The two “porters,” for example, seemed to fall all over themselves to try and please her, tipping hats and holding doors and asking over and over again if there was ANYTHING they could do to help her, and generally acting like buffoons.

When I walk down a sidewalk by myself, nobody every says hello or smiles or seems to give a shit about me at all. But with Polly at my side, there never seemed to be anyone, man or woman or child, who did NOT pay attention or give us a cheerful greeting or at least display a brightening of mood. Before all of this, nobody seemed to want to give her the time of day. Rather a sad state of affairs, if you stop and think about it. She, on the other hand, seemed oblivious to that aspect of it. When people smiled at her, she smiled right back. And when Polly smiled, the whole world seemed to change.

I don’t celebrate holidays. Never saw the need. But she begged me to please please please get a turkey for Thanksgiving. And, of course, when I gave in on that little demand, she wanted dressing and cranberry sauce and potatoes … a whole list that took me more than half an hour to get in a grocery store. She spent all day in the kitchen. I insisted I couldn’t help, instead going through some work I had brought home. Even so, I must admit that she did quite a job. Before we sat down for the meal, however, she insisted on running a couple plates downstairs to Pickening and Farley, the two porters, who lived in separate rooms off one side of the parking level, near the laundry area. It didn’t take long until she got back, but it sort of pissed me off, just the same.

And that’s where we were now … Thanksgiving evening, cuddled on the couch, watching TV. When our show was over, we started talking about her coming first day of work, which would be the Monday following the long weekend.

But before that, there was one last task to set the stage for my plan’s implementation. I hadn’t told her about that, just as I hadn’t told her about the plan itself. So confident was I that she would follow my every command, fulfill my every wish, that it simply wasn’t necessary.

Thanksgiving is a truly American holiday. And forgive me … I am well aware of the fact that the term “American” does not apply strictly to residents of the United States; though we are inclined, in our self-centeredness, to believe so. However, we were truly the originator of the now-worldwide event that occurs the day after: Black Friday. And, in the past, I have observed that day the way I observe all holidays. I abhor crowds. I abhor shopping. Normally, I cower in my home and work. Alas, that was not to be the case on this Friday. Fortunately, the establishment I had called to made an appointment was not one that would be overly crowded.

Polly hesitated only momentarily when I led her into the tattoo parlor. I took solace in the fact that I could still surprise her … and in the fact that once surprised, she submitted to my wishes as she always had, and, I assumed, as she always would. I walked with her to the back of the establishment, and I identified myself. The man put down his paperback novel.

“Frank!” he screamed at a curtained doorway. “Your appointment’s here!”

Good old Frank poked his head into the main area and gave us the once-over, lingering appreciatively on Polly’s ample assets. He crooked a finger at us without saying a word, and I led her back into the depths of the place. “Please, take off your blouse and bra. Let’s see what we have to work with.” His voice had a distinctive rumble.

She was clearly shocked, and glanced at me in alarm; but I simply nodded. Blushing crimson, her fingers immediately began manipulating the row of buttons on her blouse. I had done something like this once before, about a week prior to this, when I took her for a special fitting for half a dozen brassieres. I had wanted something that would give support but still tastefully display her breasts to the fullest extent possible while hiding her overly-long nipples.

The man whistled in appreciation. “I haven’t seen a pair of nips like these in a long time.” He patted the top of a padded piece of furniture that looked vaguely like a surgical table. It was probably used for tattooing someone’s lower body. “Have a seat right here, honey,” he told her. He took his time measuring her nipples with a set of calipers.

Finally, he set the instrument aside and looked between the two of us. “Who’s in charge here?” Polly immediately looked toward me for guidance, and Frank had his answer. “I can do almost anything with nipples like this. What did you have in mind?”

“Rings?” I asked.

He nodded. “Posts first. Screw-on studs, actually. We can switch to rings in a week or so.”

“I’d like them to be permanent,” I said. She kept silent at my comment, but seemed to blush even brighter.

“No can do, man,” he replied. “And by that, I mean that I can’t do it. You’d need a metallurgist for something like that. I know a guy … but you didn’t hear it from me. We’ve got health and safety codes. I can send you home with a pair of titanium studs for a hundred fifty.”

I took two one hundred dollar bills out of my wallet and handed them to him. “Take good care of her and keep the change.”

He immediately began swabbing her nipples with alcohol. She shivered almost violently, but didn’t protest. I leaned into her and whispered in her ear.

“Would you like me to put you to sleep for this?”

“No,” she said out loud, causing good old Frank to look up questioningly. But she ignored him. “I want to feel it. I want to feel it happen.” She seemed to catch her breath as he began cleansing the other nipple. “And … sir?”

“Yes?”

“I’ve never worn earrings. As long as we’re here, can I get my ears done, too?”

Hmm. I’d never even considered that. I wondered to myself if I should be pissed that she was taking advantage, but I found that I sort of liked the idea. I took out another hundred. “Can you do that, Frank?”

“Absolutely,” he said, taking the bill and smiling. Without further comment or preparation, he raised a device to her left breast, inserted her nipple, studied the positioning for about three seconds, and pulled a trigger underneath it.

There was a loud POP, and she gave a strangled little “OH!” of a scream.

“Sorry, my dear. I’ve found that prolonging the act doesn’t help the nerves. It’s just sort of my style; do you know what I mean?”

While he was giving her this little spiel, he was fiddling with her other breast. POP!

“OH!”

“Worst part’s over, Dearie. Let me just clean up a bit, and we’ll put in those studs.”

Blood! A drop of red, red blood trickled down the underside of her left breast, while another droplet formed under the other nipple. “I … I’ll see you out in the waiting room,” I told her briefly, and I left them. Once in the room out front, I dug out my cell phone and tried to check the headlines, though my shaking hands made that difficult. I heard the pop of that damned gizmo twice more, and the thing made me jump each time. I can’t remember what the news was about. Probably politics. That’s all that the papers and electronic media seemed to talk about anymore.

She was beaming, and she practically ran to me in her excitement. “Do you like them, sir?” But then she blushed and laughed gaily. She swept her hair back on both sides and I dutifully raised my eyes from her breasts to her ears. The new silvery earrings were studs with dangly little chains swinging from them about two inches below her earlobes.

“Um … very nice. Are you okay?”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” She handed me a calling card. “Here’s the name of the man who can do the rings, sir.”

I took the card and put it in my pocket. Then I offered her my arm, which she held with both of her hands, and she allowed me to lead her out to the car. On the ride home, she was smiling wistfully. “Are you really going to put permanent rings in my nipples, sir?”

“That’s what I want, yes … if I can find someone who will do that for me.”

“I’ll be wearing your rings. I’ll be wearing your rings … forever.”

Her comment sort of rankled me. “That’s a little presumptuous of you, isn’t it? Just because you’re wearing a couple rings in your nipples doesn’t mean I can’t give you to somebody else.”

She huffed a little laugh. “I would know. Every time they tugged on me, I would think about you. Every time I saw them in a mirror, I would know that I am yours. Every time anybody else saw them, they would know that you were the one who made me wear them. Everyone that sees them will know that I am your slave.”

I could have argued further, but I knew I was defeated; so, I kept quiet. Once we got home, she dragged me into the bedroom and mounted me as soon as she could. She shuddered through two orgasms herself, but never slowed; and she kept at it for more than half an hour before I blasted inside her. Breathless and overjoyed, she rolled off of me and told me that she admired me for my stamina. I didn’t tell her that the reason it had taken me so long was that I had been distracted, hoping beyond hope that her nipples wouldn’t start bleeding again.

I am my company’s top salesman. Or rather, I have been the top performing salesman for the past year. There’s a stipulation in my contract that I do not have to have a secretary; and if I do decide to get one, it will be at my own discretion.

For Polly, Monday, almost in its entirety, was taken up with the hiring process. One might think that because she had done temp work there before, it might have streamlined things a little; but that was not the case. As a temp, things like healthcare, retirement funds, payroll deductions, direct deposit, workman’s comp, company life insurance, vacation, personal and sick time and a dozen other benefits, had all been denied her. Now, she had to have each one explained to her and each program signed up for. She had to join a union, and that was another time-consuming ordeal.

I took her to work at nine in the morning, but I did not see her again until after three o’clock when I happened to look out of my office door and spotted her at the secretary’s desk talking to someone. The someone left, and I was about to go out to her and ask how things had gone, when someone else stopped by her desk to talk. Then someone else. Everyone, it seemed, had to meet the new girl.

Did she remember? Did she know that two of the women that wanted so much to chat with her were among those who had so pointedly ignored her at that lunch table two month before? I despised subterfuge among others (though I was obviously willing to employ it myself). When Ralph Grimes, another sales rep, started getting uncomfortably close during his conversation with her, I’d had enough and walked out to her desk.

She was already speaking. “Thank you, Mr. Grimes, but like I said before, I’m already in love with someone else; and I really don’t want to go out with you, though I am flattered you asked.”

Grimes smiled, undeterred. “Well, keep it in mind. And remember what I told you. When this asshole finally drives you away from this desk, I expect you to come to me, right down there.” He turned and pointed. “I’ll treat you the way a secretary should be treated.” He nodded to me and winked. “Baxter.” And he spun on his heel and walked back toward his office.

I was about to call her into my edifice, but the secretaries’ union rep suddenly showed up with more paperwork to sign. Discouraged, I retreated, only to watch the parade of well-wishers and prospective suitors continue. Finally, about five o’clock, things tapered off after a group of girls were denied the pleasure of her company for a “welcome aboard” party in the bar across the street. I couldn’t hear her replies, but she finally seemed to get her message across, and they went away, disappointed.

Several minutes later, she was standing in my doorway. “My head is spinning,” she said, smiling shyly.

“Come in, lock the door and take off your clothes,” I ordered gruffly.

Oddly, she began disrobing before she voiced any concern. “It’s getting dark outside, and our lights are very bright, sir. Literally everyone still left in the offices across the street will be able to see us.”

I sat and thought about that for a long moment. On the one hand, I felt anger that she would question me; but on the other, she had already removed her blouse, and was working on the bra. I got up, went to the window, and cranked the control for the window blinds, making the slats tilt and restrict the view. She straightened from sliding her silk panties down to the floor. “Do you want my shoes on or off, sir?”

“On. Now, bend over the edge of the desk, face down.”

“Yes, sir.”

I had cleared my desk for the day; and so, she had plenty of room to spread out, bent at the waist, her arms wide, her breasts ballooned as they pressed into the polished wood surface, her left cheek resting on its surface. I moved my palm over her taught ass, stroking her thighs and finally cupping her sex. She was very wet, and the noise she emitted was not so much a moan as a sound of appreciation. I undid my belt and my pants, then shoved it all, including my underwear, down to my knees.

“Tell me about your day,” I said matter-of-factly; and I thrust as far into her body as I could.

“OH! Oh, sir! It was … UGH! … It was all … UGH! … very … UGH! … very nice … UGH!”

I was stroking in and out of her at my own pace, and I felt … powerful. It was as if everything was going my way. We were so close now … so close to implementing the plan. I didn’t know if it was going to go according by my wishes or not, but it was almost ready to launch. God, I felt hard. Sliding forward and back, in and out, building, building. I could make her do anything. Anything. To prove my point, I reached around her and stroked her clit hard. Within just a few seconds, she was spasming around my shaft, her fist in her mouth, trying hard to stifle the sounds that threatened to erupt from within her throat. So powerful. I exploded in her depths.

“Tell me what you want from me, Polly,” I ordered.

She didn’t hesitate, even a second. “I want your rings, sir. I want to wear your rings in my nipples.”

I never even tried to hold back my laughter. I imagine I sounded a wee bit manic.

By the end of the first workweek, you might expect that a routine would have been established. Well, it had and it hadn’t. Polly, whether it was her prerogative or not, became an immensely popular person in our company. There were several reasons for that, none of which I could have predicted. Firstly, she was exceedingly bright; and, it seemed, she had a photographic memory for names, faces and personal information. When an uncommonly pretty girl sees you, smiles at you, greets you by name and inquires about this or that; well then, you tend to like her. And to add to the mystique, she was a truly genuine person in just about everything she said or did. If you asked her a question, you could logically assume she would not lie to you. Such people are … rare; and it is only natural that you would want to keep that person close, if at all possible.

Next, she had an underlying quality, almost an aura, that exuded mute sexuality. She never talked about it, or otherwise suggested it outwardly, but it was always there. I believe it was an overt personification of innocence, which can be a devastatingly erotic thing. The way I had her dress amplified that perception. Most men, and some women, feel an urge to possess such a woman and keep her safe from the perversions the world would try to throw her way … all while exercising those perversions personally. I found it an odd dynamic, and a fascinating one.

Fortunately, Polly seemed more than capable of handling those individuals who overtly pursued her sexually, eight of whom were male, along with two women (which surprised me). She gently told them no. And then, if they persisted, not so gently. And, if it went further than that, she would summon me and let it slip into the conversation that not only was I the boyfriend she had alluded to, but that I was her protector. And that would always work. For while Polly represented everything they lusted for in this world, I was the person who represented the exact opposite. I never appreciated the fact before, but I seemed to scare the bejesus out of just about everybody. Not that I really cared.

Unfortunately, that former group of individuals (the ones who simply wanted to befriend her) grew by leaps and bounds. I had to put my foot down; I had to set some sort of limits. I told her she could meet friends for lunch on Tuesdays and Thursdays. But I drew the line at any meetings after work. I didn’t trust anyone when alcohol was thrown into the equation.

In her duties as my secretary, I worked her hard, bringing her into discussions about clients and contracts in greater and greater detail. As I said, she had a good mind for trivialities, and often made suggestions that were exceedingly germane regarding clients’ personalities, proclivities, associations and other personal data that might help me in business dealings. On top of that, she and I took several walks around the entire building, visiting and speaking with managers and employees of the whole company, including manufacturing, processing, operations, shipping … even the mailroom in the basement. Everywhere we went, she met new people, made new friends, and seemingly ingratiated herself to everyone everywhere. Within two weeks, she was more of an expert on our organization that I was.

December of 2019 had a Friday the 13th. I remember that was the day we left work to go to the metallurgist who was recommended by the man who did the nipple studs. I had been in touch with him by phone twice, and he had sent me photos via text messages, showing me different types that he could use. I sent him photos, too, though I had taken them while Polly was taking one of her little hypnotic naps, so she had no knowledge of that fact. He worked out of his home in Coraopolis, which is just south of the largest of our “Three Rivers,” out near the airport.

Polly had been looking forward to this the way a five-year-old looks forward to a birthday. She had started idly playing with her nipples when she had nothing else to do around the apartment, and she’d twist the little posts absent-mindedly while reading or watching TV. I swear that I hadn’t put these thoughts into her pretty head, but the rings seemed to represent the level of intensity in our relationship that she longed for the most.

The guy seemed a decent enough fellow, and he led us down to his workshop, which was in the basement. It was cluttered, though bright, and it smelled of hot solder. He handed Polly a small box containing the two pieces of gold, and she treated them the way a priest treats an ancient religious artifact. I was not impressed; though I suppose the things made sense. They looked … mangled; but, of course, they would have to be inserted, and then bent into the shape of proper rings. Without prompting, she took off her blouse and bra and took a seat on a stool. I suppose he was expecting this. I mean, that IS what we were there for; but he still seemed very distracted by the sight of her. I was already concerned for her safety, and his demeanor made me even more nervous; but after a minute or two, he started making preparations.

He laid a heavy apron sort of garment over her tummy and lap, then draped another one over her shoulders. She made no noise at all until he started hefting her breasts, maneuvering them between the two fabric pieces, so that they were sort of framed by them, top and bottom. Even then, the sound was small, deep in her throat. She was likewise mostly silent as he unscrewed the posts and threaded the new metallic objects through the holes they had left in the soft/hard nubs of nipple flesh. But then, he picked up a glass tumbler and fished an ice cube from it; and when he applied it directly to her left nipple … well, THAT got a response: a little shriek, followed by a giggle, and finally a sort of mewling whimper.

There was more movement than I could, at first, follow; but I soon realized that what he was doing. There was a very thin gap between the two ends of the golden ringlet; and he was attaching clips, both above and below this narrow gap. Ah; he was using the clips as heatsinks. Before I could comment, however, he had picked up a soldering iron dabbed a bit of gold wire against it, and touched it to the ring in her left nipple. There was a tiny puff of smoke; but there was seemingly no reaction from Polly, who couldn’t really see what was going on, anyway. Ten seconds later, he had unclipped the paraphernalia, and he was holding the ring with his bare fingers, examining it with a jeweler’s loop. Then, he’d scrape it with an instrument of some type, polish it with a cloth, and examine it again. He did that over and over. Polly simply sat there and did nothing, other than gasp sharply when he applied the ice cube to the other nipple when the time came.

In fifteen minutes, we were in the car, driving back to our apartment; while, back in that little house in Coraopolis, our metallurgist friend had fifteen crisp new one-hundred-dollar bills, which he’d put in a shoebox on a shelf above his workbench. We stopped at an Italian restaurant on the way back, where we enjoyed a nice meal and each other’s company. She was exceedingly happy. I asked her to tell me her thoughts.

“I am yours,” she stated flatly, smiling. “Your rings aren’t just a symbol … they’re real, and they won’t come off. Every time I feel them tugging on me, I’ll know. Every time I look in a mirror, I’ll be reminded. Every time some other man sees them on me, he’ll know, too. I am your possession. I am your property. I belong to you and no one else.”

I had prepared for this from the very beginning, of course. I hypnotized her every night, without fail. If I dozed off before her in bed, she would wake me up and beg me to “put her to sleep” first. I didn’t mind this; it was part of the dynamic that made us “us.” All it took was a few words, and she’d be under. Often, I’d suggest an erotic dream, but that was more of a special treat for when she had particularly pleased me. She fancied herself a “hypno-slave,” a phrase she had seen somewhere on the internet. It made me smile. I didn’t mind at all if she talked herself into living some fantasy of domination and submission. It’s exactly what I wanted.

In our apartment, I couldn’t dissuade her from giving me a blowjob (which she stubbornly still insisted on calling a suckjob) to show how much she appreciated being owned. But eventually, I had my chance to examine her new jewelry using a magnifying glass. I thought I could just make out the hint of a seam on the left one, but despite knowing it was there, I couldn’t find any indication of one on the right.

This was it. The final step. We were all set. Somehow, I suspect she knew what was coming, but she still didn’t know when.

By now, you’ve probably figured it out, too. It was fairly simple; but then, all good, effective plans are simple. Polly was to be an incentive to a very, very important client, who would sign a very, very important contract that would set me on a course for becoming a very, very important man myself.

Oh, I had contingencies. After all, every plan goes off the rails somewhere along the line; but I felt fairly confident that I’d thought of most of the things that could go wrong. And, I not only had developed responses to those things, I’d thought up so many that there were actually options. Yes, I felt pretty confident.

But, as I think I’ve mentioned before, no one could have possibly foreseen the event that eventually occurred. Nor could anyone have guessed how large the repercussions would be. Because, before it was all over, Polly and I would become involved in matters that would have an impact on the entire Greater Pittsburgh Metropolitan Area.

Reggie Rodriquez was born with a silver spoon in his mouth back when silver was valued; and that spoon had only appreciated in worth every day thereafter. He was the type of guy that seemed to have a Midas touch, and just about everybody wanted a little bit of whatever he happened to be touching at the moment.

When it came to Good Old Reggie, I had figured out two things that all those hangers-on had failed to predict. Firstly, I knew what his next big investment was going to be, simply by studying his past financial strategies and understanding how his thought processes were likely to evolve. And secondly, I had learned that things were not going well on the old Homefront. In other words, he was having a bit of trouble with the Missus; and that, if you’ve followed any high-profile couples in the business world over the past decade, might prove to be the costliest problem he had ever faced.

Mr. Rodriquez was involved in dealings on four continents; and, depending on your point of view, those dealings were either very, very good or very, very bad. As long as the name of the industry had the word “Defense” in it, most people considered it good. “Offense,” not so much. That’s why some of our nation’s largest industries are funded by the Department of “Defense.” And, due to the nature of our “Defense” industry, the building of weapons is almost entirely contracted to private corporations like the one owned by Mr. R. I had studied and understood the weapons system he had developed and sold to the Air Force. And, I understood which parts of it had to be subcontracted. One in particular could be built by our company. We had the production line capability. We could tool up quickly. We had the liquidity he needed. And, in the entire world, only I had pieced these things together. Rodriquez didn’t know about it yet. Neither did any of our corporate officers or members of our board of directors. But that was all about to change.

It was Monday, December 16th, 2019. I had arranged for Rodriquez to stay at the Hilton for two days; and I had cleared my calendar for both. When he showed up at my office at ten o’clock, no one else in the building knew who he was or what he potentially represented; which, of course, was exactly what I had hoped.

And, exactly as I had hoped, he was instantly, totally, thoroughly captivated by my secretary. She rose as he approached and greeted him by name, then introduced herself and led him into my office without knocking. Now that she was acquainted, she introduced him to me. And, lastly, she offered him coffee, which she had just purchased at the Starbucks downstairs.

He took a sip. “This is just the way I like it!” he exclaimed. “How did you know?” He had a faint Spanish accent.

She laughed and actually clapped her hands in delight. “I knew that would amaze you!” She let the statement hang for a moment. “I called Wanda and asked.”

“Wanda?” he hesitated. “My secretary in New York, Wanda?”

Polly laughed again. She laid a hand on his arm to make a point. “I knew that the boss wanted to impress you; and I wanted to impress the boss. So, I called and asked her how I could do that. She seems like a lovely person. We chatted for several minutes. Please tell her hello for me.” She walked to the door, the sway in her hips noticeable but apparently unintentional, and she graced us with one last smile. “Please call me if you need anything at all.”

I waved a hand at a chair, inviting him to sit, but he was ignoring me completely, staring at the closed office door. “What a remarkable young woman.” He finally saw my gesture and sat down. I sensed that he wanted to speak further, so I remained silent. “What would you do if I stole her away from you?” he asked. I couldn’t tell if he was being serious.

“You could try,” I answered, smiling slightly. “You strike me as a man who is not used to failure. But if you attempted that, I can absolutely guarantee that you would not succeed.”

He steepled his fingers and let his brow furrow in thought. “You don’t seem the least bit concerned.”

I let my smile broaden. “I’m not. You don’t have to take my word for it. Ask her. She will never leave me. At any time. For any reason. For any price. She belongs to me. And there is literally nothing on this earth that she wants more than that.”

He thought about it for a moment. “Very well, let us get down to business.”

And I knew I had him. Not only had I convinced him of my business acumen, but I had earned his respect as an individual. In half an hour, I had laid out my entire plan, and he had agreed to it. He asked for data on various aspects of the project, and Polly brought in the appropriate books seconds after I called for them. The best part of all was when he wanted to see the prospective production line, and I asked my secretary to join us. Of course, dozens of individuals stopped us for the sole purpose of saying hello to her; and she did her “Polly Thing” by smiling, calling them each by name and inquiring about this or that in each of their daily lives. By the end of it all, Rodriquez was a man smitten, and he could barely hide it.

When the tour was over, it was time for me to set the hook. I suggested that we lunch at the restaurant in his hotel downtown, and I told Polly she would join us. They both seemed delighted by the prospect; and, without going back to the office, we went down and hailed a cab.

Of course, I had scoped out the place in advance and reserved a booth table in the most private corner of the dining area. I don’t know if Rodriquez knew it had all been scripted on my part, but I sort of imagine he did. Polly obviously didn’t have a clue as to my intentions during the meal; and she was more than happy to comply with my suggestion that she slide into the booth to sit against the far wall, while we two menfolk took positions facing each other, on either side of her. The white linen tablecloth fell to our laps, and the table had been set up formally. I told the waiter that we would be having lunch, and he immediately began picking up silverware and dinnerware items.

It hadn’t struck me until just then that I had never taken her out to a truly formal restaurant. She observed the proceedings in mute fascination that bordered on delight. Our guest seemed to pick up on her state of mind and asked her if she would allow him to order for her; an offer which she seemed shyly overjoyed to accept. Several of the appetizers offered on the menu, he explained, were items typically found in Tapas bars in his home country; and he regaled us with facts about how traditional Tapas were different in Granada than they were in Seville. I allowed him to carry the conversation throughout the meal; and while she obviously knew that this man was important to me in business, I came to believe that her interest was genuine. She seemed utterly captivated, though the Champagne that he continuously poured to top off her glass might have added to that dynamic.

When she begged us not to indulge in dessert, I deemed the time had finally arrived. We’d been supping for more than an hour and a half at that point, and through it all, I had let things play out on their own. Now, it was time to see if all that planning and more than two months of preparations had paid off. For, while I felt confident in her conditioning and emotional attachment, there was always a risk; and everything came down to this moment.

I cleared my throat and took charge. “Polly, I should tell you that the two of us have reached a preliminary agreement on the proposal we’ve been working on so hard. We’ll be writing up the contract very soon.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” she said, smiling broadly and slurring her words only slightly. She reached out and took his hand. “I’m so happy that we’ll be working together! How often do you think you’ll need to come here?”

I didn’t let him respond. “He and I still have some details to work out. Please excuse us while we speak about the particulars.”

She blushed and lowered her gaze. “Yes, sir. Of course. I’m sorry.” But then she looked up at our guest. “Before you do that, can I just say that I’ve had a wonderful meal? Thank you so much for inviting me! It’s been just about the best lunch I’ve ever had, ever, in my whole life!”

He started laughing at that, so she blushed even more, put her hands in her lap and looked down at them.

Again, I cleared my throat. “Mr. Rodriquez and I were talking earlier in my office. He seemed very impressed with you, and asked me what our relationship is. Would you be so kind as to explain it to him?”

She glanced up sharply at me, her eyes asking a thousand unspoken questions, but I kept my countenance blank. Finding no solace there, she looked inquiringly at our lunch guest, but he seemed to have the wherewithal to realize that it just might be in his best interest to remain silent, as well. So, she looked back down at her hands and spoke in a quiet, clear voice.

“Mr. Baxter is more than my boss, sir. I live with him. We’re lovers.” But she suddenly realized that she had badly misspoken; so, she shook her head. “No, that’s not true. We … we aren’t lovers. But we have sex. All the time. Almost every day.”

She looked up at me for just a moment to see if she had said enough. Obviously, my expression conveyed that it hadn’t been sufficient. She took a deep breath and faced Rodriquez. “I am his slave, sir. I fell in love with him, and I gave myself to him. Forever. He … He considers me his property. His possession. And that’s the way I want it. I would do anything for him.”

“Would you?” I asked her pointedly.

“Yes, sir,” she responded immediately. “Anything.”

“Reach down and pull your skirt up to your waist. I want you to feel the seat against your panty-clad ass.”

She quickly glanced around the room, but she never hesitated. Instantly, she began bunching her skirt up on either side of her hips, and she shimmied them from side to side to work the garment up toward her waist. She continued to do that for about half a minute, but then she suddenly stopped and put her hands back in her lap. It took me a moment to realize that she had completed her mission.

“Very good,” I told her bluntly. “Now, do you know how I sometimes bring you to orgasm by rubbing my fingertip around and around your clitoris?”

Now, her face was truly red. She took a deep, shuddering breath. “Yes, sir.”

“I want you to put your right hand down the front of your panties, and I want you to do that with one of your own fingertips. I want you to keep doing that until you are about to cum, but I don’t want you to let yourself release into orgasm. Take yourself right to the edge, but don’t let yourself go over. Stop before that happens and let me know that you have completed that task. Do you understand?”

“Oh, God,” she whimpered softly. But then she spoke slightly louder. “Yes, sir. I understand.” We saw her hand come up to her waist and then slowly disappear behind a glimpse of blue silk.

Our dinner companion reached over and pulled the edge of the tablecloth up to better hide her. “Alright, Baxter,” he growled. “I get the picture. You’ve made your point.”

“Let her go for a while,” I told him casually. “I’m anxious to see if she has the self-control to stop herself in time.” We both looked around the room. The lunch crowd was long gone, and we were more or less alone. We hadn’t seen the waiter since I signed the bill. “Your flight to JFK leaves at four tomorrow, correct?”

“Four eighteen,” he said.

I nodded. “I’ll pick her up in the bar at two o’clock. She’s yours until then. And every time you come back to PIT, for the life of our contract, you can have her for twenty-four hours, assuming you give me notice beforehand. No marks. No rough stuff. Otherwise, I don’t care. She’s all yours.”

He sat back hard in his seat and looked at her. She had closed her eyes, and after I made that last statement, she’d given a soft little moan. I got the impression that he really wanted to tell me to go fuck myself, but we both knew he was well beyond the point of further resistance. He sighed and smiled softly. “Any suggestions?”

“As soon as you get her to your room, kiss her hard. She’ll put her arms around your neck. I’ve programmed her to do that; so, you’ll be able to keep the kiss going for a really long time. She’ll lose herself that way. She’ll become completely disoriented; entirely lost to her passion. I’ve never met another girl like her. So sweet on the outside and such an absolute slut on the in ….”

“Oh, my God!” Polly hissed. “Oh, no! Oh, please, no!” Her eyes flew open and she stared at me as if I had just thrown her off a cliff. “No no no no no!” She clenched her eyes shut and shuddered; then she started panting heavily. “No. No,” she repeated softly.

“Well, THAT didn’t take long,” I commented. We both watched as she panted heavily for about ten more seconds. “Take your had out of your panties,” I ordered.

She pulled her hand up and away from herself. I caught a whiff of her arousal, and I suspect they could each detect it, too. She was shaking and her breathing was ragged. “I … I almost couldn’t stop, sir. When you started talking about me that way … it was suddenly just THERE, and I almost … um … I almost couldn’t ….”

I slid toward the edge of my seat in preparation to get up. “You know what you have to do now; right, Polly?”

She took a deep steadying breath. “I need to hear you say it, sir. I need to hear you give me the order. We both need to hear you.”

I smiled. “Polly, Mr. Rodriquez is your master for the next twenty-four hours. During that time, you will obey him as you would obey me. Do you understand?”

She was deeply flushed, and her chest rose and fell enticingly as she breathed deeply. “Yes, sir. I understand.”

And I turned and walked out of the hotel. I went back to the office and worked late. Then, I drove home, though I stopped and picked up some fast food for dinner. I ate in front of the TV, then hit the sack and slept well. There was no reason to feel nervous. After all, at that point, there was nothing I could have done about it, anyway.

The hotel bar was just off the main lobby area, and I walked in at precisely two o’clock. They were seated in a booth across from the bar itself; but when they saw me, he rose and offered his hand to help her up. Then, they remained together, waiting for me. She stood very close to him, the way she always stands with me when we are out together, and her hand sought his and held it, their fingers intertwined. Anyone in the room who happened to observe them would assume they were lovers.

I smiled calmly. “Hello, Polly,” I greeted. I nodded toward him. “Rodriquez.”

“Baxter,” he replied, nodding. He took a breath. “I’ve spoken to my secretary in New York. Actually, Polly spoke to her as well, and for some length of time. They seem to have formed a long-distance friendship. Anyway, I’ve had the contract drawn up.”

“I just came from the office. I’ve read it through and given it to our legal department for their input, but I don’t foresee any problems at all. I hope we’ll be working together for a long, long time.”

He was taller than I am, and when Polly pulled on his arm, he dutifully leaned her way to listen to what she had to say. “Please, sir. May I go to my Master now?”

He smiled down at her almost lovingly. “After what you and I have experienced, I expect a proper goodbye kiss. Will you do that for me?”

She hadn’t been blushing until now. “Oh … yes sir. I would … enjoy that.”

They faced each other and she stood on her tiptoes in order to put her arms around his neck. His hands went to her waist, and he pulled her in tight. After their lips had been pressed together for ten seconds or so, she issued a low moan, and one of her hands went to the back of his head. It went on for a little while more, and then his hands came up to her shoulders and he gently pushed her back. She was breathing hard, and her knees seemed weak.

“Goodbye, Polly. I look forward to seeing you again soon.”

“G … Goodbye, sir.”

Rodriquez stayed rooted to the spot of a long ten seconds, and I tried to figure out his strange expression. Finally, I noted that tears were streaking each of her cheeks, and that was obviously affecting his mood. For the millionth time, I thanked the fates that I didn’t have to put up with this emotion crap. What a mess it seemed to make out of everything! I turned and watched as our client walked to the front desk and retrieved his suitcase, which he’d obviously checked with them. Without giving us another glance, and wearing a grim countenance, he walked out the front door and hailed a cab.

I issued a little “Ooff!” when she hit me from behind with her body, and her arms wrapped around me from behind to my chest. Slowly, slowly, I was able to turn until I could hold her properly; and she buried her face in my chest and cried. Emotions! What a crock! Not knowing the proper thing to do, I simply held her in my arms and shushed her softly until the waterworks finally subsided.

“I take it you liked the gentleman,” I said softly.

She sniffed. “Yes, sir. I liked the gentleman.”

I nodded. I felt confident expressing myself to her. Quite frankly, these past two months had been the first period in my entire life that I ever felt comfortable conversing with another human being, and I knew I could ask her questions that I would normally never ask anyone. “Are you … um … in love with him?”

She issued a little noise that sounded like “Humph!” And then she answered defensively: “I’ve only known him for a day!” She turned and picked up a small parcel from her seat, something stuffed in a manila envelope. Then she took my arm and turned toward the front door.

“You told me that you loved me on the first day we met,” I pointed out.

“That was different.”

“How was that different?

She made the sound again. “It just is. You are my master. He isn’t.”

Outside, I handed a ticket to the valet parking attendant. “I see,” I told her. Then, after a moment I said: “No, I don’t. You do love him. You have to. You love everybody.”

She sighed deeply. “Well, I guess if you put it that way ….” She wiped a stray tear. “And, even if I did love him, it wouldn’t make any difference. He’s in love with someone else.”

I tried to digest this info. “Who?”

“I know you don’t go in for this romance stuff,” she commented, “but it just so happens that he’s deeply in love with his wife.”

“Ah. Let me guess. She doesn’t understand him.”

She sighed again. “I suppose it’s the same old story. He’s busy making money to give her the best life possible; but all she really wants is to have him around. They’ve just had a child. A little girl. He wanted to wait another year or two to start a family. Now, she wants more children, and he misses the romance when it was just the two of them. They fight. He’s been faithful to her up until now, but they haven’t been intimate in more than a month.” She gave me a sidelong look. “Did you know he was having marital problems?”

“Yes.” She didn’t respond to that, and when the silence has stretched on for a while, I asked: “What’s in the manila envelope?”

“A gift. From him to me. Please, sir, can I keep it secret from you? I’ll do whatever you ask, of course. But, if I can keep something secret between him and me, then it would feel ….”

“Intimate?”

“Intimate. Yes.”

“Of course, you can keep it.”

“Thank you, sir.” We paused as the car arrived. The valet helped her into the passenger seat after I tipped him, so I walked around and buckled in. It was too early to go home, so I drove back toward the office.

“Sir?”

“Yes?”

“I’m going to help him, sir. I’ve decided.”

“Rodriquez? Help him with what?”

“I’m going to make suggestions and gently apply pressure. I’m going to try to get him to reconcile with his wife.”

I gave her a little laugh. “If you do love him, then you might lose him if you did that.”

She smiled sadly. “That’s what someone does when she’s in love, sir. She makes sacrifices so the person she loves can be happy. Can you put me to sleep, sir? Please?”

I was having problems keeping up with her thought processes. “What? Right now?”

“You didn’t do it yesterday. And I need to surrender to you SO badly! Please?”

We were stuck in traffic, for some reason. Probably an accident ahead on the interstate. So, we certainly had time. “Okay,” I told her. “Sshhh! Just be calm and heavy for me.”

Normally, I would whisper this in her ear, but it seemed to be doing the trick, probably just because she wanted it so badly. Her hands, which had been on the armrests to her left and right, plopped into her lap, and her head sank slightly forward, as if she was so tired that she was having trouble holding it upright.

“Rest your head against the window, please,” I instructed; and she did. “Sleep.” It was a gentle command, but her entire body slumped. “Go deeper for me now. Deeper and deeper and deeper still. Down and down and down you go.” I tried to think of an erotic situation she might enjoy. “Dream that you are in a cabin in the woods. There’s a blizzard outside, and we’re snowed in. Mr. Rodriquez and I have met there to iron out contractual differences; but now, we can’t leave. The cabin has only four rooms: a large living room area with a fireplace and plenty of wood to burn. The fire is warm and inviting. There’s also a small bathroom and two bedrooms, which are only large enough to contain one queen-size bed each. They are piled high with pillows and quilts and blankets. The bedrooms are closed off to maintain warmth in the living room area, and so they are very cold. I have ordered you to disrobe, and you are now naked, trying to keep warm by the fire. You hear Rodriquez and I trying to decide who you will sleep with tonight. Finally, we decide that we will take turns with you, and that just as soon as one man has been sexually satisfied, you will go to the other, in the other bed; and you will keep that up all night. We are cutting card to see who will get you first.”

I was silent after that. Traffic finally broke free. As far as I could see, there had been nothing around that should have caused a slowdown in the first place. As I was maneuvering the car into the underground parking lot next to our office building, she cried out in her sleep, making the same sound she makes when I give her an orgasm. But I waited until I’d actually parked in my assigned space to wake her up.

She stretched and yawned and frowned at me. “Oh, sir, can’t I sleep for just a little while longer? I was having the best dream ever!”

I huffed. “Maybe you can tell me about it, and I can try to duplicate it for tonight’s dream,” I suggested. “Right now, I need you. I need you very much.”

She smiled demurely. “Yes, sir.”

I didn’t have any time to speak to her further because there was always someone near us, all the way to the elevator, on the ride up to number six, walking to my office. But I led her past her desk and inside to my own. I closed the door and then I picked her up and deposited her on the edge of my desk. She stifled a squeal when I did that, but stayed silent as I quickly stripped her of her panties and unbuttoned her blouse. She took care of the bra herself while I undid my belt and shoved my pants down to my knees.

“How did he like the nipple rings?” I asked while lining myself up. I shoved forward hard, and she couldn’t stop the sound of shocked pleasure.

“He … OH! … He … He liked them. He … OH! He couldn’t stop … OH! … stop playing with them. It … OH! … It drove me crazy!”

I buried myself deep inside her and paused so we could both get used to the feeling. “Is that all you? You’re sloppy wet inside. Did he leave his cum inside you before he gave you back to me?”

I started stroking in and out of her with long, slow thrusts. She wrapped her arms around my neck. “N … No, sir. He was going to, but I begged him to let me bathe. I wanted to be clean for you. Oh, God, sir. I’m cumming!” Her inner muscles clenched and relaxed around me several times, and I rapidly approached my own peak.”

“How did you get so wet, then?” I pulled back and tried to look her in the eye, but she had hers closed in her passion.

“It … It was the dream I was having in the car! It was so … so hot, sir!” She shivered strongly, then her eyes flew open and she brought the palm of one hand to the back of my head. “That’s it, sir. Swelling so big! So, so deep! Please let go for me! Let go and cum inside me! Yes! Yes, like that! Cumming so hard inside me! YES!”

I lost track of everything for a while, and even when I began to regain my strength, I felt disoriented and drained. “I … I need to get going again,” I told her groggily. “I have to get ready for Reesland.” Roland Reesland was the company Vice President of Sales, and my direct boss. I had only been with the firm for a year and a half, and I had already leap-frogged past most of the sales staff to my current position. But this deal … well, this deal was on a whole new level. I hadn’t checked the company records. I never had any interest in past data. Only future ones. But I wouldn’t be surprised if this deal was the largest in the firm’s history.

“Please sir,” she implored. “Can’t we just stay like this for a while? Like maybe the rest of the afternoon?”

I smiled and pushed her back. “No. I have to prepare my pitch. Reesland will probably want me to present it to the CEO. Maybe even the Board of Directors.”

She smiled weakly and began walking around the room, picking up a blouse here, a pair of panties there. The bra was behind me, near the window, which (thank goodness) had the blinds drawn. She paused only to grab a handful of tissues to wipe between her legs before putting herself back together. Last but not least, she retrieved the manila packet that Rodriquez had given her from the desktop. She held her arms out to her sides and gave me a questioning look to see if she was presentable, and I nodded appreciatively before she went back to her desk.

Once again, I worked into the early evening. We found a deli still open on the way home, and we split a foot-long hoagy when we got home.

It was 10:03 AM when I stormed past her desk back into my own office. I was contemplating murder, which is especially dangerous for a man like me. In my mind, all the “pros” were lining up on one side of an imaginary ledger, while the skimpy column of “cons” struggled to make any kind of showing at all.

She was suddenly just there, leaning toward me from the opposite side with both palms on the desktop. It abruptly dawned on me that I couldn’t remember sitting down in my office chair. “Did you do anything?” she asked pointedly.

“He stole my sale!” I said, through gritted teeth. “That asshole, Reesland, stole my sale!”

“Yes, sir,” she said, almost matter-of-factly. “Did you do anything?”

“He told me it was in a company directive,” I exclaimed, more to myself than to her. “That sales over ten million have to be handled by a designated officer appointed by the Board of Directors! ‘Clause Eighteen,’ he called it.” I looked up at her, feeling helpless. “We’re going to have to change firms. The way they’ve written their ‘Clause Eighteen,’ it’s obviously designed to get their top salesmen to quit after something like this happens. We have no recourse. None at all.”

“Sir!” she barked loudly. She pointed toward her face. “Focus! Did you do anything?”

In all of our two-and-a-half months together, she had never once spoken to me like that. “What?” I asked, stunned.

“When he told you what he was doing, did you do anything? Did you say anything?”

I blinked up at her, uncomprehending. “Um … no. I simply got up and walked out of his office. He shouted after me to come back; but I just kept going to the elevator, back down here. I never said a word.”

She broke into a huge smile. “Oh, sir! I’m so proud of you! I could just kiss you!”

“What the hell …?”

She stepped back away from the desk, toward the door behind her. “Sir, I need you to stay here for thirty minutes. Don’t contact anyone. I just need half an hour, I promise. Please.”

I felt numb. “Polly, what the hell’s going on here? Who the fuck’s in charge? Are you somehow …?”

“Sir, please! I don’t have much time! When we get home tonight, you can tie me up and spank me for punishment! But right now, please trust me! I’ve never asked you to do anything before! Please!”

I watched her move toward the door. “Did you know about this Clause Eighteen?” I asked … more like an accusation.

She signed heavily. “I didn’t know about that, but I knew he was going to try something. Now, please, sir. Don’t go anywhere. Don’t call anyone. Don’t text or email anybody.” She saw the uncertainty in my eyes. “What harm would it do to let me try to help? What have you got to lose?”

Well, that made sense, I guess. I nodded, and she was gone, closing the door behind her.

I pulled out a blank piece of paper and started listing things for a letter of resignation, but my ballpoint pen began skipping, and I had to rummage around for more than a minute before I found another one. By then, I lost interest and began thinking about how I might simply kill Reesland and get away with it. Of course, it wouldn’t be prudent for me to do the deed so soon after quarreling with him. On the other hand, I hadn’t actually argued; I’d simply walked out on the man. But still, I’d needed to give it some time. Confound it all, where was that girl? She’d said half an hour, and it had already been …. I checked my watch. Fifteen minutes.

Perhaps I was going about this all wrong. What was it that she was seeing that I was not? I’d been blindsided by this, and she had somehow almost expected it. Was it a conspiracy of some sort? Could Polly be in on it? But no; in that direction lay madness … something I’d been able to avoid in my life up until now. And in this, my hour of urgent need, I felt compelled to actually trust her. So. I’d come full circle. If I trusted her to take some sort of action, then she knew something I did not. How had she acquired that hidden knowledge?

But that was obvious. She had lines of communication I lacked. People naturally liked her, while people naturally disliked me. So, people confided in her. Trusted her. Opened up to her. But she said she loved me. People in love don’t keep secrets that wreck careers, do they? But if she knew and didn’t tell me … if the fucking bitch knew and ….

The door flew open so fast that it hit the wall on the opposite side. “Sir! We have to go! Now! I’ll try to explain on the way! Hurry!”

I was up and moving without thinking. I still had my suit jacket on; I’d never taken it off from my visit to Reesland’s office. She paused only to pick up a stack of papers from her desk, and she was moving fast toward the elevators. Halfway there, I tripped over a woman’s handbag and nearly fell. Waving an apology to its owner, I found her already in the elevator, holding the door for me, tapping her foot impatiently.

The elevator was going up. “What …?” I began; but she put a warning finger to her lips and glanced sideways at two others who were sharing the ride up. I might have growled at her. Our fellow passengers both glanced at me nervously. We all got out on eight, the top floor; the executive floor.

And she was moving fast again. I lengthened my stride, but I’d be damned if I was going to stumble again. Before I caught up, she was at Shelstein’s secretary’s desk. Shelstein … the CEO.

“Polly!” the middle-aged woman exclaimed, smiling broadly. “It’s great seeing you again! I didn’t realize you’d be with him, but it makes sense.” She gave me her attention. “Hello, Mr. Baxter. He’s expecting you. Please go right in.”

I had worked hard to keep my face an impassive mask, but I willed my mouth to tweak into a small smile. “Thank you,” I told her, nodding. I turned toward the office door, but Polly already had the portal open, and was walking through ahead of me.

Shelstein was on his feet. “Well, HELLO, there,” he announced, grinning broadly, eyes only for Polly. I had met the man once before, when I had first hired on. My secretary was gracing him with her most alluring smile, but saying nothing, waiting for me to take charge.

“Sir,” I announced, “this is my secretary, Polly Pike. “I’ve … um … asked her to sit in on this.” Inside, I was fuming. What the hell had she done? In my current frame of mind, I had absolutely no problem telling this man to take his company and shove it up his ass.

“Miss Pike, it’s truly a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

She sat in the chair to the right. “Please, sir. Call me Polly.”

He waved a hand toward the other chair, and I sat, trying hard to keep my temper in check until such time as I called it forth to do battle. Shelstein opened his mouth to say something, but Polly unceremoniously interrupted him.

“Mr. Shelstein, Mr. Baxter asked me to accompany him because of these documents.” She handed him the manila envelope she’d taken away with her after her 24-hour date. “As you can see, sir, the envelope is sealed. It contains the preliminary contract that Mr. Rodriquez signed in my presence. I’ve had the document with me continuously ever since. I can testify, if need be, that it has never left my presence. I invite your attention to paragraph twelve, which regards exclusivity. It states that, should Mr. Rodriquez not be able to work with Mr. Baxter personally in this matter, that the entire deal is forfeit and subject to renegotiation with a competing company. I strongly suspect that the paragraph in our company’s copy was removed by someone in our legal department.”

The man had torn open the envelope, thumbed through the pages, and glanced momentarily at the page she had referenced. Then he smiled and nodded at her. “Thank you for delivering this,” he told her, the grin still pasted on. “And now, if you’ll excuse us.”

Polly looked as if the man had just slugged her. She sat back hard in her chair, and any semblance of professionalism that she’d been exhibiting crumbled like a wall without mortar. Her lower lip began trembling.

“Oh, good Lord!” Shelstein interjected quickly. “Don’t start crying!”

Polly looked toward me in an attempt to communicate something she couldn’t say in the presence of others, her eyes filling with tears.

“Ah,” Shelstein said, sitting back away from his desk and looking between the two of us, but finally settling his gaze on her. “I understand, now. You are much more than a secretary.” He seemed to consider his words. “Very well, then. You’re a partner. You can stay.” He turned to me. “I believe you are aware of Company Directive Clause Eighteen.”

I was preparing my Rage to come forth. “Yes, sir; I have been made cognizant of that particular article.”

“Very strict policy, I’m afraid.”

I arranged to open wide the gates of my lenience and loose my demons. “So I’ve been told,” I answered.

“I can see only one way out of this little problem,” the man said thoughtfully.

I only smiled in anticipation. I was about to unleash all of my frustrations on this poor man. I almost pitied him.

“Congratulations,” he told me.

I blinked, confused. “I’m sorry. What?”

“You are the new Vice President of Sales,” Shelstein said. He stood and advanced toward me, right hand outstretched. “May I be the first to welcome you to the eighth floor.”

I glanced sharply at Polly, but her eyes were as big as saucers, and her mouth was open in shock. I cleared my throat, rose and shook the outstretched hand. “Um … what happened to Reesland?”

“Golden parachute. He pulled the ripcord about three seconds after I fired him. He has no idea that quite a large chunk of that money is going to go toward defending himself in court.”

I sat back down and quickly reshuffled my thoughts. “I see. And … in the interest of preserving that same job, may I ask what he did wrong?”

“He took me for a fool, to start with. Otherwise, I’m sure you are well aware yourself what has been going on. He’s been altering contracts through … um … an associate in the legal department; and then he’s been applying pressure to the principals, both inside the company and out, to skim commissions and client payments for his own benefit. Mostly, he did it through intimidation and blackmail. It wasn’t particularly well done. You and your girlfriend … excuse me, your executive assistant … obviously knew about him. You just didn’t know that I knew.

“Your friend Rodriquez knew about him. I just got off the phone with him a few minutes ago. And that means that there are probably several other people in the industry that knew, as well. I was preparing things in-house to get rid of him; but this very lucrative contract you’ve negotiated forced me to move up my timeline.

“It caught Reesland flat-footed, as well. He didn’t have much time to stake out Rodriquez for something to use against him. Somehow, he dug up the fact that our new client’s wife had a brief affair, and he tried to use that as leverage, threatening to make it public unless he did away with that exclusivity clause you just showed me. Instead, Rodriquez called the FBI this morning, just before he called me. He was letting me know that, if the contract wasn’t maintained as-is, he’d bring charges against the company, as well as Reesland.

“I had originally planned on bringing in some outside talent to fill the VP-Sales position, but after seeing you keep your cool throughout it all, I considered this the best option all around. Once again, congratulations.”

I stood and held out my hand to Polly, who took it and rose from her chair. “It was nice to meet you, sir,” she told him. I wondered why she was suddenly blushing. It made her look much more innocent that I knew she actually was.

“I look forward to seeing much more of you, Polly,” he replied. “Especially now that we’ll be working on the same floor.”

Outside the office, she had the presence of mind to say goodbye to her fellow secretary, but then she grabbed my arm, spun me toward her, and threw her arms around me.

“Now, see here, Miss Pike,” I admonished. “A little decorum is in order.”

She laughed and put her lips near my ear. “Oh, sir! I was so afraid! I thought he was about to fire you! I thought maybe you might have done something rash back in the office.”

I sighed and held her to me, ignoring the bemused looks we were getting from all quadrants. “Where did you go for those thirty minutes?”

“Nowhere. I was at my desk. I tried to get hold of Mr. Rodriquez four times, and I was told he was speaking to someone at our company. I never even imagined it was the CEO! I called three secretaries in legal. At first, they couldn’t find the company lawyer we left the contract with; and later, they were all in shock because he was being led out of the building by security! And then I received word from the eighth floor that the big man himself wanted to see you ASAP! I didn’t know what to do!”

I pulled back a little and looked down at her. “And why are you blushing?” I demanded.

“Because, sir. You need to celebrate your big promotion! We need to go back to the office and close the door! And we need to celebrate hard! You need to celebrate deep, deep, deep inside me! And you need to do it right now!”

She took my hand and frantically tugged me toward the elevators.

VP of Sales was actually part of my big plan; it was just happening about a year earlier than I’d anticipated. Yes, things were really, really looking up. I had worked my ass off this past year; and in another week and a half, that year would be over. From the brink of catastrophe, I was now riding high. Everything had worked out! And the future could only get better! The U.S. economy was soaring! The global economy was soaring! And, as far as the world of business was concerned, 2020 looked even better.

Yes, nothing could possibly go wrong.