Dirty Trick

by Mickey Miller

  Vikki’s face froze, and her eyes turned hawk-like. Begrudging respect and no small amount of surprise gleamed within. “Wow.”

  I smiled softly and gazed back. Hey, she was right. I was on my way up. If we got this sponsorship account my net worth would skyrocket. My work didn’t come free, and she was in no position to negotiate. If she wanted me on that island, well, she would have to make sure that whatever harebrained ideas Connor popped up with, there would be enough incentive to not just leave him there or drown him in the Pacific.

  “What percent?”

  “I want ten percent.”

  Vikki’s mouth tightened revealing a hint of wrinkles. “Five.”

  “I’m not moving from this number. Ten,” I shot back.

  She pursed her lips.

  “Vikki, if I reel this big fish in, it’s going to triple our revenue for the next year. That’s not worth one tenth of the company?”

  She pressed her thumb against the wrinkles forming between her brows as she considered and calculated what I said. Finally, she lifted her head. “I can’t believe I’m doing this, but I accept. Ten percent of the company if you reel in the Zoreto deal. Hey, if you drive as hard of a bargain on them as you did on me, you’re going to crush it.”

  My heart raced as the reality of the trip set in. Did I just agree to sixty days on an Island three thousand miles off the coast of South America? Panic washed over me, but I pushed it down. This was the next logical step in my career. I should be proud.

  But the fact was that I was on the brink of backing out before Vikki spoke again. Sure, money was a great motivator, but she hadn’t been the one Connor had been eye-fucking and degrading at the conference. How would I be able to reel in the contract if I killed him?

  “Well then. With that all settled, Connor is training at his gym right now. Since you didn’t really meet him yesterday, I need you to head down there right now. You know, get a feel for what he’s really like in person.”

  “Of course.” I stood up and smoothed my dress down. It had a flirty lace hemline that added a flourish to the pencil skirt.

  “I’ll have legal draw the papers up for us both to sign.” Her voice demanded my attention.” Oh, and Crystal.”

  I turned towards her. “Yeah?”

  Vikki flashed me a knowing smile, as if she’d been aware of every lurid thought I had about Connor. “You know the rule about relationships with clients.”

  “Of course. There is none,” I croaked. I was ten-million shades of red.

  “Right. I know you know, but I just had to make sure I said it.” She shook her head whimsically. “I am happily married, but I wouldn’t mind eating breakfast off that man’s abs once or twice. Just don’t get distracted by him. Focus on the task at hand.”

  Heat piled into my cheeks and I nodded. “Of course.”

  Somehow, I knew that would be easier said than done.

  I took the L-Train down to Connor’s gym on the south side of the city. The sign on the outside of the door read, “Closed on Mondays.”

  “Dang,” I muttered aloud, allowing only a slip of my Southern accent to sugar my words. Why would he want me to come if it was closed?

  An extremely loud, strange noise came from in the gym. I pushed on the door and found it was unlocked, though the lights inside were dim. I stepped inside. The click of my Jimmy Choos heralded my entrance better than any knock could.

  The moment the door was open it was evident what the noise was. Two tribal drums beat in unison. The noise was so deafeningly loud I half wanted to plug my ears. Their beat was slow and steady, like a metronome.

  I approached slowly, tentatively. I wondered what weird ritual Connor could be indulging in, provided he was the one running the show on the day when his gym was closed. And I had a feeling he was the one.

  I walked toward the ring in the middle of the gym, where I saw Connor dancing around the ring.

  When I reached the side of the ring, I realized he was literally dancing to the beat of the drums, and he had his eyes closed. He’d scoot left, then right, then duck. He wasn’t throwing any punches.

  His drummers sped up the pace, and Connor moved faster to match it. The man was one hundred seventy-five pounds of solid muscle, and he moved like the well-paid, well-oiled machine he was. He was all professional. How he was so light on his feet for such a thick hunk of muscle was beyond me.

  I posted up ringside and enjoyed the show. Whereas last night he’d been in a suit, now he was shirtless in short boxing shorts. I could see just about every muscle rippling through his body as he moved. Vikki’s warning ran through my mind.

  Stay focused.

  I shook it off. I was all business right now. But still, that didn’t mean I would interrupt his training session. And unfortunately, that meant staring at his toned back and sculpted abs as he kept moving around the ring, eyes closed.

  The drums quickened once more, and Connor moved around the ring so quick it became hard to keep track of his movements. Finally, the beat came to a crescendo and ceased. Connor backed his way up toward me. I still wasn’t sure if he knew anyone was here, he had been so in the zone during his tribal drum training round.

  “Hello, Crystal.” His voice was a low, breathy murmur. After he spoke he turned around and looked at me.

  My heart sank in my stomach. “How did you know it was me?” I managed to croak. At no point had he opened his eyes.

  He cocked his head and made an expression that wasn’t quite a smile. “You’re not curious what I was doing with these tribal drums?”

  “I am, but how the hell did you know I was here?”

  He paced back and forth around the ring. The tribal drummers, a couple of guys in their mid-thirties who looked like they might be good fighters followed our interaction.

  “Do you know what the mana is?”

  Was this the random crap I would have to deal with on the island?

  I scoffed and crossed my arms. “No. Never heard of it.”

  “It’s the mind force that moved those giant Moai statues from one part of Easter Island to another.”

  I sighed. “So, you knew it was me because of the mana?”

  He tapped his head. “I’m a little bit of a psychic.”

  I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and opened them again. “You’re bent on making this hell for me, aren’t you? Why don’t you just admit you heard my heels over the drums.”

  He made a motion to the drum guys to start back up, and they did, softly this time. Connor moved a little to the beat.

  “Well if I’m being honest. I don’t think a prissy girl like you can handle a place like Easter Island. Look at you.”

  My blood boiled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Come now, don’t act so thick. You’re wearing those ridiculous high heels, on a Monday no less. If we were on the island you would get stuck in the sand. You look good, don’t get me wrong. And that dress? Damn girl you look poured into it. You’d turn heads walking down the street, no doubt about that. But I just don’t know if you’re going to last three hours on Easter Island let alone sixty days, where the electricity goes out sometimes? I just don’t know. What happened to that other fellow...I think his name was Jonathan.”

  I clenched my teeth. For being a man who specialized in physical fighting, he was an expert in passive aggressive verbal tactics, as well. Usually, it was one or the other. “Mr. McGrath, you don’t have any options at this point. I am the one who will be on the trip with you.”

  I found it ironic that not an hour ago I was fighting not to go on this trip, and now I was fighting to convince Connor that I was the one for the job. “Vikki said you wanted me to come down here to chat with me. I trust you had something valuable for me while I am integrating your style into a sixty-day schedule, planning ahead. Obviously, we will have to plan our wardrobe since it’s such an isolated location. Was there something specific you wanted to address?”

  He bounced back and forth onto each foo
t as we spoke, like a little boy with ADD. It was a little distracting. “No, love. I’m kidding anyway. I just had Vikki send you down here because I wanted to see your pretty face.” He finally stopped bouncing and smirked at me. He paused for an elongated length of time, staring at me. “And...done. I got my daily dose of Crystal Lawson.” He looked down between his legs, and damned if I didn’t see his dick twitch in his shorts.”

  My mouth fell open. He did not just do that!

  “You can go now.” He winked and motioned to the drum guys to start up again, then started his ring-dancing war drum routine or whatever the hell this was.

  Anger scorched through me, and I stomped away from the ring. The pointed edge of my heels drove in sharp clack clack clack into the cement floor that I just wished was his face!

  “Oh, and Crystal,” Connor’s mocking laughter roared at me from where he bounced around the ring. I didn’t stop, though I was perilously close to flipping him off over my shoulder. “See you on the plane. I can’t wait. But, you might want to pack a flashlight. Power outages are pretty common on the Island.”

  3 - Connor

  Pissing Crystal off was the highlight of my day. It was so easy to mess with her. She had the thinnest skin I’d ever encountered on anyone. She was still mad at me from the gym stunt, and I’d kept poking at her over the past few days as we got ready to hop a plane out of the country. Most of my entourage, had flown out ahead leaving just Crystal and me with a small group to act as a buffer between us.

  When she’d learned that there would be a lot of people between her and I on the long ass plane ride, she'd begun giving me the silent treatment. Still, the blonde-haired banshee and her bitchy ass mood couldn’t darken mine.

  I smiled as our plane sat on the runway in Santiago, Chile. Outside it was still dark with the promise of sunrise already lighting the horizon. We’d be arriving just as the dawn broke, my favorite time of day on the island. I had one day, one full day, to enjoy Easter Island and its mysterious glory before I had to buckle down and begin training.

  El Toro probably thought I’d brazenly given him the home advantage for our fight. Little did he know, Easter Island felt more like home to me than anywhere else on earth. I was re-born there, amid the mysticism and beliefs of an ancient culture, and a hard-nosed shaman who didn’t listen to me bitch and complain about my knee.

  The island sat three thousand miles off the coast of Chile. It was so remote that they only allowed one plane to fly there at a time. Our commercial flight out of Chicago had been a long haul--over twenty-four hours straight before we took this puddle jumper over to the Mataveri International Airport, the most remote airport in the world. The juxtaposition of the old and new existed in sublime balance on Easter Island. I couldn’t wait for Crystal’s reaction when she saw the enormous moai statues flanking the runway.

  On the first flight, out of the states, I’d slept some, and now I was enjoying the takeoff from the Chilean airport. The pilot got on the intercom and spoke Spanish to us for a few minutes, running through the same pre-flight bullshit that American pilots did.

  Crystal sat several rows in front of me. I couldn’t see much of her, just a puff of blonde hair over the back of her seat. When she’d glanced at our tickets, and seen that our seat numbers with our group were right next to each other, she’d switched with someone else on our team who was coming over on the same flight, claiming “she loved being by the window seat.”

  I watched her closely from behind, and for someone who loved the window so much she was nervous as hell. She bit the edge of her nail without breaking them, I doubt she could bite through her manicure. Every time the plane shook or shifted as it started taxing, her head twitched, whipping back and forth as if making sure this was normal. I suspected she was a poor flyer. I decided it was only right for me to make sure she had a welcoming, comforting face next to her as we arrived at the Island.

  “Excuse me,” I said to the woman next to me with a polite Irish smile. “I need to get up if you please.” I pantomimed the polite version of pissing, just in case she didn’t speak English.

  “Of course,” the woman said with a thick German burr. All kinds of people went to Easter Island, and for various reasons. Who knew what hers was.

  I’d donned jeans and a “Kiss me I’m Irish t-shirt” for the plane ride, for maximum comfort. Crystal was the only one, outside of the crew, who insisted on wearing full makeup, a skirt, and a professional white blouse that did nothing to hide her very big tits. Thus, I’d been having very unprofessional thoughts about her the whole plane ride over from Chicago to Chile. She’d even been in my dreams, which hadn’t helped my thoughts any. How was a man supposed to wake up anything less than horny when he’d spent the better part enacting a very dirty fantasy in his head?

  I wondered if she was a member of the mile-high club, and if not, had she ever thought about it? I sure as fuck thought about it, and wanted to punch Crystal’s ticket. Was her mind as pristine and classy as those outfits of hers? Or did her fastidious clothing choices hide a dirty girl who needed a bad man to spank her ass? I’d seen her three times in our short professional relationship, and each time she was dressed to the nines. I wouldn’t deny that peeling those tight skirts, and frilly blouses off had been occupying a large portion of my thoughts.

  My take on her was that she was a woman who planned and didn’t like being caught off-guard. I mean, shit, she was the only woman I knew who carried around a giant notebook planner, where she actually wrote things down with a pencil. Who did that anymore? Had she not heard of e-calendars?

  I ambled down the narrow aisle until I arrived at her row. A young American tourist with a sideways Jaguars ball cap sat in the middle seat next to her. He had good taste in a sports team, and I gave him my best camera-worthy smile.

  Crystal, on the other hand, acted as if the Devil had paid her a visit. When she saw me, she clutched the pendant on her neck.

  I used my over-charming polite Irish accent that never seemed to let me down. “Excuse me young man, but I have a favor to ask. You wouldn’t mind trading seats with me so that I can sit next to my wife here, would you?” I nodded toward Crystal.

  The young guy’s eyes widened. “Holy shit! You’re Connor McGrath!”

  I winked. “Guilty as charged.”

  “Yeah, of course! Oh, my gosh can I get a selfie with you?”

  I nodded, mugged with the kid a picture, and switched seats.

  His jaw was still slack. “My friends are gonna freak. Holy shit, sorry for sitting next to your wife, man. I wasn’t checking her out or anything.”

  I put on my serious face for a moment. “Why don’t you quit while you’re ahead.”

  His face went stark white as he stumbled back a few rows to take my seat.

  Crystal crossed her arms underneath her breasts and shot me a glare.

  “Really? Wife? Now, what if he goes and posts about that on Facebook or something?”

  I looked her dead in the eye, ignoring how large she made her boobs by squeezing her arms together. If I weren’t a more disciplined man, I’d have looked right at them. They were like two giant suns begging me to stare at them.

  “Well now if a guy can’t have a little fun with his wife, who can he now, am I right?” I asked the question to no one in particular. The guy next to me spoke Spanish, and I was sure even if he did understand English, my Irish accent would give him a tough time. Unless you had an ear for my brogue, it was hard as fuck to understand me.

  “I specifically requested this seat so I wouldn’t have to put up with you,” she snarled, shifting in her seat.

  I stretched out and flashed her my gap-toothed grin. “I know you did. I just saw you were a bit nervous is all. Thought I would come say hi. Maybe see if you need anything to relax.” Only then, when the lurid words were in the air, did I let my gaze dip down and get a nice look at her big ol’ titties. Fuck, the girl was stacked.

  “I always get nervous before big flights. It’s no
big deal. I’ve flown before.” She lifted her chin and added a touch of hauteur to her statement. “By the way, why are we flying commercial? Why didn’t you want our company to charter a jet?”

  I shrugged. “Old habits die hard.” I didn’t need to tell her how I’d arrived at the island the first time I arrived years ago. She’d have a conniption fit if she knew the conditions of my first vessel to Easter Island.

  The pilot got back on the PA system and made another announcement in Spanish.

  Crystal shifted beside me, agitation stamped on every line of her buxom body. “Why haven’t we left yet? They already did the demonstration! The flight attendants are strapped in. What’s taking so long?”

  “Patience you must have, my young Padawan.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Don’t start Yoda-ing me.”

  I cracked a slight smile. It wasn’t lost on me that she’d at least caught onto my casual Star Wars reference, even if her response was to dismiss me. Maybe the southern belle had hope yet to be brought back down to earth.

  She glanced out the window again, and her lower body shifted toward mine, pushing the warmth of her legs into mine. Shit, that felt nice.

  I felt like my Grandpa, who’d told me once that it used to be improper for women to show their ankles in public as I viewed the flesh of her lower leg. My cock stirred, urging on my thoughts. How nice would it be to grab hold of both of her ankles, spread her open, and run my tongue up the side of her legs, grazing her calves and tickling her inner thigh until I reached her center? I wondered what she’d taste like. She kept up such a hard exterior. Even now, her arms still crossed with her hair and makeup still precisely in place after eighteen hours of flying, I knew she had to be hiding some cherry-sweet flavor inside her. And I was going to get to the bottom of this.

  She looked back over at me, sighed, and shook her head in my direction. The flight powered up and barreled down the runway. My cock was hard as we took off into the air over the Pacific Ocean, and I swallowed.