by Kerri Sharpe
Until Suki realised that, somehow, her wrist was wearing a handcuff, and it was fastened to the frame of the bed.
‘Sorry,’ Saffy said, and ducked to kiss her on the cheek.
‘Sorry,’ Neil said, and ruffled her hair.
‘Sorry,’ Guy said, stuffing his beautiful prick back inside his trousers.
‘Johhny’s not coming, is he?’ Suki asked, as Hector reappeared from the office, his hands clutching two large bags of cash, harvested from the safe in the wall. His mirror shades were gone now and she realised where she recognised him from. This very building, only instead of money bags in his hands, he usually carried a mop, or a broom, or a can of Pledge.
‘No,’ he said. ‘But we left you a little something. To say thanks.
And then they were gone. There was just her, and the bed, and a couple of discarded uniforms, a camera running without any tape to record what had, she was forced to admit, been a very interesting little crime.
She managed eventually to pull one of the bed’s legs apart and the handcuff securing it to the pipe fell free. She dragged what was left of the frame across to the office where she had seen Hector leave the keys. A few minutes of struggling with the bed as she tried to get through the door and she was able to release herself. She stood in the office, rubbing her wrists, and stared at the open safe. The envelope sticking out was like a tongue mocking her. But that image disappeared instantly the moment she opened it and found a photograph and £3,000.
The next day, after the police had taken her (fictionalised) statement, she was summoned to Johnny Locke’s office. She stood before her boss’s desk as Johnny carpeted her, his face running a gamut of colours that started with puce and finished near black. His voice had carried so much rage that she was sure she saw the windows tremble. Spittle flew from his lips like rice at a wedding. Only this was nothing like such a happy event. This was its diametric opposite. This was a divorce in every way. The words rained down on her: fired, sacked, terminated, OUT OUT OUT.
She took a deep breath and smiled serenely at him. Her navy-blue serge uniform whispered softly against her empowered curves. The day before, although a sham, had instilled her with courage, confidence and belief in her own sexuality. The man before her, as much as he bellowed, was a speck in comparison. Her smile broadened. She said, ‘I don’t think so.’
Locke said: ‘Excuse me?’
‘I want to stay in the job. In fact, I want a raise. A very big raise. In fact, I want what you earn.’
‘Do you want me to physically pick you up and kick you into the gutter?’ The puce was returning.
‘I’ll let you keep your job,’ she said. ‘But I want things to change. Starting … now.’
She let the photograph in her hand flutter down to his table. His eyes remained on hers for a second, then twitched to the 5 × 7 rectangle. She never would have believed that a simple photograph could make someone’s eyes grow so large. Then again, whose eyes wouldn’t bulge if their owner was wearing the kind of butt plug that wore feathers, tasted great with roast potatoes and maybe couldn’t ask you how you wanted your eggs but could at least lay them for you instead.
‘It’s a colour print,’ Suki said. ‘But it looks like black and white to me.’
Nuala Deuel is the co-author of Princess Spider: True Experiences of a Dominatrix, and has had short fiction published in numerous Wicked Words collections.
Precipitous Passions Michelle M Pillow
‘YOU CAN’T DENY that you want me to fuck you.’
‘Excuse me?’ Hallie asked, unsure she had heard him right. She swung around from the top edge of the New York skyscraper. Her round green eyes widened in shock as her short blonde curls bounced excitedly in the wind. She immediately recognised the voice as that of her boss Peter Bartlett; he was the only one she knew with such a sharp British accent. He was also the only one she knew with keys to the rooftop door, aside from the janitor whose set she had borrowed. His perfectly formed words could give any American girl chills. But surely he would not make such a blatantly sexual remark? Theirs was a working relationship, tempered by the mix of a little humour and stoic attitudes, although they had always gotten along in the most proper of workplace senses.
Hallie peered through the soft glow of fluorescent lights that lined the edge of the building and questioned uneasily, ‘Mr Bartlett?’
‘Call me Peter. We’re off the clock.’ He flashed a quizzically boyish smile as he answered casually, ‘And you cannot deny that you would miss out on this view. New York is one of the most fabulous cities in the world. I should know. I’ve seen most of them.’
‘Oh,’ Hallie said, turning her eyes to the dim sky blazing with the light fog of the bright city night. The top of the Harrison and Kenton office building was a perfect spot to see the city. The skyline was indeed beautiful – the most untamed spot in the New York. She was careful not to look down, lest her stomach lurch with unease. Standing on this part of the roof was perilous; one false step and you could fly to your death.
But Hallie liked the freedom of the roof; it was why she visited it often. It resembled a wild sense of freedom and longing within her. She was normally tame, cautious. Here, the world looked so big and alive, and she felt like ruling it all.
Hearing her boss near her, she wanted to melt into the stone in embarrassment; her cheeks flamed with the mortification at her wayward thoughts. Her only redemption was that Peter couldn’t read her dirty mind. She felt him lean next to her on the railing, could feel the heat of his body as he stood close yet not quite touching. Ignoring the flush that threatened her skin, she managed to respond after some time.
‘I suppose it’s much more exotic when you haven’t lived here forever.’
‘Why does every American woman dream of Paris?’ He chuckled in amusement. ‘Yours wasn’t the only application I had to rifle through this last week. Every girl in the office put in for the overseas job.’
‘I’m not sure why,’ she lied, turning to go as a strong breeze whipped sharply over her flushed skin. It ruffled the neckline of her white linen shirt, exposing her bare throat and a hint of the top of a lacy bra. His eyes caught hers in a brief grasp before they dipped lower to glance at the exposure of curved cleavage. Suddenly she wished she hadn’t unbuttoned the stuffy collar. Weakly, she said, ‘I should really be going. The meeting will be over soon and Mr Kenton is leaving some paperwork on my desk.’
‘Always working late, aren’t you, Hallie? It is nearly eleven o’clock.’ Peter’s words weren’t really a question but a deliberate pondering. He drew his eyes away and Hallie forced herself to relax. ‘Don’t you ever go out for fun?’
‘Are you giving me permission to call in sick tomorrow?’ she asked with a sheepish smile. ‘Mr Kenton will be sorely disappointed if the modified reports aren’t on his desk first thing in the morning.’
‘Do you always do as you’re told?’ His mouth barely moved as he murmured the low question. Hallie felt a chill over her skin and convinced herself it was the wind.
‘Only when it’s one of my bosses doing the telling,’ she quipped matter-of-factly. ‘I won’t lie. I want that Paris job. I’m one of the hardest workers you’ve got down there and –’
‘Hallie,’ Peter broke in, giving a small shake of his head as he stopped her words with the softness of his tone. ‘Save it for the interviews.’
‘Sorry,’ she said with an apologetic smile she didn’t mean. ‘Like I said, I’ve got to get back to work.’
She turned to go, unable to take his unfamiliar nearness. The whole of New York didn’t seem big enough for the both of them, as they stood facing each other on the empty roof. Her fingers worked uneasily with a will of their own, wanting to feel where Peter’s T-shirt moulded to his strong chest. She could smell his scent, purely masculine, as it drifted to her in diluted waves, filling her senses.
Taking slow steps towards the door, she forced herself not to run. The image of his unusually casual attire burned into h
er mind, though she had tried hard not to look at him. Peter was her boss. During the day, everything was all business with him. Never had he given the slightest impression that he was attracted to her. Hell, he never gave her the impression he even really liked her. But tonight, on the roof of their office building, things were about to change. Had she imagined it? Were the powerful night air and the dizzyingly spellbinding influence of the tall building and surrounding city playing tricks on her?
‘I’ve seen the way you’ve been looking at me,’ he said.
Hallie froze, her back turned to him, sure that her mind was again playing tricks on her. She had misheard him. He couldn’t know what she thought of him, how she thought of him. Rotating slowly on her high heels, she said, ‘I’m sorry? I didn’t hear you over the wind.’
Suddenly his mood changed. His arms moved with the assurance and certainty of his perfect body. ‘Don’t you ever say what you want? Why do you play all these coy games?’
He smiled in devilish enjoyment. His T-shirt again sculpted to his muscled chest. It glowed eerily in the combination of moonlight and fluorescence. His short black hair ruffled defiantly in the breeze, as confident as its master as the locks pushed over his brow.
‘Games?’ she squeaked. Her pulsed raced. She couldn’t read his face. She didn’t recognise the man before her.
‘You want me,’ he persisted. ‘Sexually. I can see that you do. I have always seen it.’
Hallie shook her head in denial, embarrassed by the truth in his words. She had wanted him from the first moment she saw him standing in the boardroom, introducing himself to the company. But the jolt of that first encounter had faded into a dull ache of vague disappointment when he returned nothing but a passing interest. Even now, she couldn’t read any fondness in his face.
‘Be honest,’ he continued. ‘For once, tell me the truth.’
‘Why?’
‘Let us just say I’m curious.’ When she merely lifted an eyebrow, he added, ‘Whoever we send to Paris needs to be bold. Mr Kenton wants to hire a man. He thinks woman are too timid to lead a company.’
‘I don’t want to lose my job,’ she bit off tersely. Mr Kenton was an old-school chauvinist. Had he sent Peter to test her? Lifting her chin, she decided feigning irritation was better than admitting she was attracted to Peter’s stiffly charming smile and hard, dark eyes.
‘You won’t,’ he promised. ‘Tell me what you think of me.’
‘You exasperate me. You are domineering and cold. You never smile and are sparse with praise. If anything, I have been silently glaring at you in irritation.’ Hallie took a step away from his perusing glances. His eyes raked over her form in a way she had never seen him look at her. After a long moment, his gaze took in her short black skirt.
‘So you aren’t attracted to me?’ he questioned. The tip of his tongue darted playful over the lower line of his lip. A challenge lit on his face as his full mouth curled into a dangerous smile. His eyes dared her to lie to him.
‘No,’ she said. Hallie lifted her chin proudly into the air. Her heart beat in wild thumps. Yelling as the wind picked up, she hollered, ‘I can’t stand you.’
‘I don’t believe you. Your body language says otherwise.’
Hallie stood transfixed. She couldn’t run. She was excited as she listened for his next words. She followed his movements, noticing his hand as it lifted from his waist to pass over his rising cock in a steady massage, drawing her gaze to the bulge to emphasise his meaning. A fire shot through her limbs. Her body jolted to life, begging her hips to gyrate in the air, crying out for her hands to tear away clothing that felt too constrictive.
‘And I’d bet I could smell it on you if I were to press my nose between your legs,’ Peter said.
‘Is that why you followed me up here? You think I wanted you?’ Hallie refused to back away from him again. His thumb deftly unbuttoned his fly. She again caught the musty scent of his cologne on the stout breeze. The rooftop dimmed all but the man before her. ‘Don’t think for a second that I wanted you to.’
‘No?’ he questioned. He cracked a smile as she shook her curly head. ‘Then give me one minute of your time. If you are not crying out in passion by then, I’ll leave you alone.’
Hallie frowned in disbelief. She had been caught out by the truth and was burning was a mixture of shame and arousal. As he came up to look her steadily in the eye, she shivered. She was already moist from his bold proposal. Pleasure hummed through her, running rampant in her veins, sparking her nerves to life. But it was a hateful tease on his part to get her body singing to such an extent.
‘Is this a test?’ she breathed, her voice raspy as she tried her best to control it. ‘Are you trying to see if I will do anything to get the Paris job? I’ll have you know I’ve more than proved myself as qualified. I’m one of the highest ranked associates in this whole city.’
‘I am testing you,’ he admitted. ‘But not for Paris.’
‘Then –’
‘I’m testing your control, Hallie. How tightly do you have that body of yours reined in? How tight are the ropes of your sexuality? Let me untie them. Let me untie you. If you don’t enjoy it, I’ll quit my job and never bother you again,’ he whispered near her ear. His heated breath tickled her skin.
‘Really?’ she asked, knowing full well that men will say anything to get into a woman’s panties. Her breasts heaved with a heavy sigh. Her lips parted in expectation.
‘I promise,’ he murmured huskily. He touched her shoulder and lightly ran his hand over her shivering arm.
The idea had merit. Peter had been an aggravating pain in her ass since he took over her department three months ago. Still, she knew she shouldn’t believe him; he was just a horny man trying to get laid. He had never come on to her before. Peter wasn’t really attracted to her, was he?
‘You’re a pain in my ass,’ she said. ‘You are aware of that, are you not?’
At that his smile deepened. Taking the tip of his finger, he traced it boldly over the line of her nipple as it peaked under her shirt. Hallie trembled.
‘I could be.’ He smirked. Slowly he began to circle around her. When he reached her ass, he grabbed it and squeezed. Hallie stepped away from him. Again he came up behind her before she could turn around. This time the firm outline of his penis pressed into her soft cleft. She jolted in surprise. She never would have guessed Peter to be so well-endowed.
Belatedly, she tried to pull away but his hand shot over her stomach to stop her. Her head whirled in confusion. Peter’s flat palm slid lower to hover over her sex. How was this happening? Only in her darkest dreams had she thought about this moment. And yet, here it was, pressing between the cheeks of her ass.
Peter leaned over to whisper darkly in her ear, not giving her time to think or reason. ‘Why won’t you admit you want me to fuck you? You want me inside of you. I can sense it. You’re wet and aching through your black skirt, aren’t you?’ Moving to her other ear, he lightly licked the sensitive nub with a quick dash of his tongue. ‘Your pussy’s begging my long, hard cock to release it. Bend over for me, Hallie, feel my cock. Let me take you here and now on the side of this building. Let me ride you.’
‘So what if I am aroused? It doesn’t mean I want you.’ Hallie made a pathetic attempt to try and pull away. The height of the building combined with his sexual advances made her dizzy. He sensed the game, and wouldn’t let her go. Trying to be as bold as he, she stated, ‘And I don’t wish to feel your cock anywhere near me.’
Peter chuckled, disbelieving. He reached his free hand to caress her neck before dipping his callused palm into the top of her blouse. It found a home in the valley of her breasts. Pulling her body harder against him, he ground his hips slowly against the cheeks of her ass. He felt her body stir in desire. He could feel her growing heat as he stoked her inner flame, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake. Her heart pounded wildly against his fingertips.
‘You’re aroused,’ he said in a breathy hu
sh along the nape of her neck. Lightly, he began to kiss her creamy skin. ‘I’m horny.’
‘Your emotions are not my problem,’ Hallie put forth as she ripped his hand from her shirt. She threw his fingers from her. Twisting away from him, she ignored his groan of discontentment. ‘Now, Mr Bartlett, if you’ll excuse me –’
‘You can’t escape. The door’s locked,’ Peter said quietly from behind her. His hands strayed to his hips. The dark orbs of his eyes glared in annoyance at her withdrawal. ‘And that janitor key won’t open it.’
Hallie marched to the door. She hadn’t seen him come up so didn’t realise he had locked her out of the building. The only other way down was over the side – a seventy-two-storey fall.