Worth Any Price

by Jacqueline DeGroot

  The owner of the cleaning company had only one employee that she’d hired without proper references, a female crew member who had been with the company less than a year. But so far she’d had no complaints; none whatsoever, she had added with concern—except that the employee had just stopped showing up for work about two weeks ago.

  When the owner went to find the file, it was missing, along with what Kel supposed had been a bogus copy of a social security card and a driver’s license complete with picture. The copy of the application for bond insurance was also missing. The owner of the company said they knew the crew member only as Frances or Frankie and they had no idea where she lived or how to get in touch with her. She had always shown up on time and had been an ideal employee until she had just stopped coming in.

  After Kel left their office, he thought hard about calling the Employment Commission and suggesting they investigate the company. Employers were supposed to have much better records than that. And it ticked him off royally that because they didn’t, he’d hit the wall on the best lead they’d had so far. Except that the employee turned out to be the wrong gender. After stewing about it for a few minutes, he thought better of reporting the company; if this had actually turned out to be their man, then it probably wouldn’t have been the cleaning company’s fault. The Voyeur was cunning and far too clever to leave those kinds of documents behind.

  When the final report on the grass cuttings came in, Kel went to visit Thomas Ryan at the golf course where he worked. The report said the cuttings were uniform and came from a mower capable of cutting infinitesimally short pieces. And they were mostly rye with young Bermuda mixed in. He looked at several of the oversized golf bags in the pro shop—the tour bags, the ones that could accommodate a small, bound child.

  Mr. Ryan was working at the counter and he looked far better than he had looked the night they had taken Toby home. Kel found himself feeling sorry for him. Thomas wasn’t strong enough for Meggie and he suspected that he was having to deal with that. He had tried to find out Meggie’s list of demands from the police since she wouldn’t tell him herself. But they had refused to tell him anything. He didn’t need to know, and now that Kel had had a chance to talk to the man when he was stone sober, he knew that Thomas was not the kind of man who could deal with knowing. He was the kind of man who would never forgive her for what she had done, regardless of motive. He’d never be able to put it aside. And Kel sensed a hollowness in Thomas as the man dealt with his futile chase for his ex-wife’s affections.

  “How many of this type of bag have you sold lately?”

  “Lately? Meaning?” He was belligerent and it didn’t appear that he cared to hide it. Nothing was going to make this man happy, and Kel found that he was no longer feeling sorry for him. He certainly came off as a self-serving jerk.

  “The last six months.”

  “Probably one. We’re off season now, that’s more of a winter item.”

  “Who bought the one you sold?”

  “A guy from New Hampshire. His clubs were lost on his flight down. They think they were stolen at the airport up north before they were loaded. The airline paid to replace everything. We even personalized the bag for him.”

  “You know for a fact that it went to New Hampshire?”

  “Yeah, the airline came and picked it up when it was ready.”

  “No others sold that you know of?”

  “Well none sold, but we did have a display model that we replaced. The one we had was getting a bit ratty looking. We rented it a few times and then took it off the floor.”

  “What happened to it?”

  “If memory serves, I think the man who does our custodial work asked if he could take it.”

  Kel threw back his head and closed his eyes. He allowed himself the satisfaction of saying bingo, before plodding on.

  “And who might that be?”

  “I don’t know his name. He comes here once a week, vacuums, dusts, and squeegees the windows.”

  “What’s the name of the company?”

  “Clean-All Cleaning. We’ve used them for years.”

  “Would his name be Francis or Frankie?”

  “Yeah, I think so. Frankie, I think he goes by that.”

  Well, well, well. So much for the gender. So, was Frankie male or female? Was his madman actually a madwoman? Or was his madman masquerading as a woman? He was getting closer and he could feel his adrenaline kick in.

  He drove back to old town and to the neighborhoods that had recently had a fire, and spent his lunch hour walking around looking for anything unusual, looking in the cars and trucks for a tour-sized golf bag. It was the break he needed. Unfortunately, it was not the break he got.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Harold Francis Satterfield let the Penthouse fall from his fingers to the carpet and pushed against the back of the recliner. He slid into the comfortable position he often used when he pleasured himself. But first, he thought, closing his eyes, he had to slip into his fantasy world.

  He never had sex with Gloria anymore. Not that he would. But she wouldn’t let him anyway. Said she couldn’t stand his slobbering kisses, his heavy body on top of her, and most of all, she couldn’t abide his evil, devil-inspired lust. After what he’d done to her, she wanted nothing to do with him in a physical sense. And she certainly wouldn’t tolerate his penchant for porn. Not the magazines, not the books, but most especially, not the videos. When she found one, she used to just toss it out; now she broke them, then pulled the tape out and burned them in the sink.

  But it didn’t matter. He didn’t want Gloria anymore either. When they were dating she’d had what was referred to as a Rubinesque figure: full and lush, with large fleshy tits, meaty thighs, and a slightly rounded tummy. But it had all been tight then. Now everything sagged, was loose and floppy. She had no tone, even her earlobes were like mush, he thought with disdain. The woman had truly let herself go. Well, that was always the way when they got what they wanted. He should never have put a ring on her finger, it was just like giving permission to a woman to let herself go.

  Gloria had gained so much weight that even after showering he could still see dirt in the crease of her folds. The woman would never be clean again. The things she had done years ago to trap him she refused to do now—not that he blamed her, he had changed physically, too. He had a paunch and his hairline was starting to recede, but he didn’t have jowls, not like Gloria. He would never consider ever going down on her again, or doing anything other than fucking her tits. She did have the biggest nipples he’d ever seen, he thought fondly. They reminded him more of a nipple on a baby bottle than any nipple he’d seen on any tit in all the hundreds of magazines he’d purchased.

  He remembered one of the first women he had ever conjured up, a woman taken from a secret book of sex stories. A daydream of a woman with nubile, big tits, and her sex partner, who of course was himself, as the all-powerful and domineering boss. A Man and His Sexretary, he thought and nodded with a devilish smile spreading over his face. He hadn’t read that story in quite some time. It used to be his favorite. It was in one of his first dirty story books, the ones where the meet and greet and the act of plowing the woman all happened within ten smut-filled pages. The pages of the book were dog-eared and soft from use. He put his hand behind him and dug around in the inner mechanism of the recliner until he found the soft, worn paperback. It was losing its pages and the cover was torn in two places. It had a big grape jelly stain on the cover page, a stain it had acquired from the trash can he’d had to fish it out of when Gloria had found it, thumbed through it, and thrown it away in disgust. A wicked grin spread across his grizzled face as his hand went to his zipper. He settled into his seat to read his favorite story: A Man and His Sexretary.

  “Mrs. Rowe, I’ve interviewed over thirty women for this pos
ition, but none have come close to pleasing me as you have.”

  “So, I have the job?” she asked, unable to hide her smile.

  “You have the job. That is if you want it.”

  “Oh, I want it!” she crooned.

  “You don’t even know what it is yet.”

  “It’s the job of your secretary. That’s what was advertised.”

  “Yes, it is indeed the job of my secretary. But the duties I require aren’t typical.”

  “It’s a generous salary so I assumed there was a bit more to it, some traveling perhaps?”

  “Oh, there’s definitely a bit more to it and some travel will be involved from time to time, but that will be later. The office duties I am referring to are exceptional.”

  “I assure you, Mr. Coxworthy, I am quite capable. I have been very well trained as an executive secretary. I am qualified for anything you need me to do.”

  His eyes dropped from her pretty young face to her full breasts, jutting out so far that they created a ledge for the lacy jabot of her silk blouse to rest on. “You are indeed qualified. But let me fully outline your duties before you accept the position.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “You will. I need a secretary, one who has the normal, usual office skills: typing; taking dictation; some filing; greeting clients; answering phone calls and taking messages; arranging meetings; scheduling trips and the like.”

  “No problem.”

  “Well there is a slight problem. I need a few other services, ones I’m willing to pay quite handsomely for.”

  “The paper said $35,000 a year, that’s a salary commensurate with my skills.”

  “The paper was wrong. The position pays $70,000 a year.”

  She gasped and her hand went to her throat as she croaked out, “What?”

  “As I told you, I need other duties from you. I find I am most creative and able to work more efficiently if I have a topless and sometimes bottomless woman in front of me.”

  “Pardon?” she asked unable to believe her ears.

  “I like to see titties while I work. Nice, big, plump ones. You seem to have those.”

  She blushed full red and blinked her eyes. Then swallowed. Surely she wasn’t hearing right, this must be some kind of joke. “I’m married Mr. Coxworthy, it says so on my application.”

  “I know that. And so am I. This is not about having sex. I have no need of sexual favors from you other than you exposing yourself to me, at anytime I desire, in any position I propose, for whatever whim I’m having at the moment. I want to be able to view you partially or completely unclothed here in my office anytime I wish, for as long as I wish it. For that I am willing to pay you double. Your husband does not need to know this. Believe me, I don’t tell my wife.”

  “I’m sorry Mr. Coxworthy, I can’t take the position,” she said, trying to keep the tremble out of her voice. “That would be like having sex. I can only permit my husband to see me naked.”

  “It’s not like having sex. Nude models in magazines let pictures be taken of them all the time and they aren’t having sex are they? They’re just letting others appreciate their charms, and many of them are married—in fact, a lot of them are photographed by their husbands. Remember Bo Derek and her husband John Derek? His pictures of her when she was only eighteen made her famous. You’ll still be faithful to your husband. I am not asking you for sex, although there may be times that I ask if I can touch you in certain places. But I won’t if you say not to. And I will never hurt you or ask you to do anything you don’t want to do. Are you certain about this? This is a lot of money you’re passing up. Seventy thousand a year is a formidable salary. It would take you at least fifteen years to work yourself into that kind of salary in the conventional manner.”

  He had a point there. It was an incredible amount of money. She and Robert would be able to afford to buy a house this year and a baby could come next. They would actually be able to put money away!

  “I would be too embarrassed.”

  “You would at first. But then you’d get used to it. I assure you that after a while it would be old hat. Not much to it.”

  “I don’t think so. I think I would always be nervous and uncomfortable with it. Heck, I still dress in the bathroom and I’ve been married for three years.”

  “That’s your husband’s fault. He hasn’t made you comfortable in your body. You have a luscious body. You deserve to show it off. And I am willing to pay for the privilege of seeing it.”

  “If you don’t mind my asking, what happened to your last secretary? And did she . . . you know, did she . . . ”

  “She left to go on maternity leave. She was with me for over a year, and yes, she did disrobe for me. Often, one might say. Daily even, except that we only work a four day work week.” He didn’t bother to mention that the child she was carrying was his.

  “Only four days?”

  He grinned at her. He knew he had her now. “Off Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, and of course, holidays. And we have great benefits also, health, dental, a 401—all included.”

  “All included?”

  “Yes. Even the 401. I contribute $500 a pay period after you’ve been with me for three months.” And I mean with me, he thought to himself. Sure, he always said they didn’t have to have sex with him, but after a while, they always wanted to.

  “I’ll have to think about it.”

  “I can’t afford you the luxury. I have other women vying for the job, I have to hire someone. Today’s the day I set aside to do that. Now, do you want the job or not?”

  Jeez Louise! What a spot. A dream job was just dumped in her lap. Except for that one little thing. What would Robert say if she were to ask him? Oh hell, she couldn’t ask him! But maybe he would say yes, if she were able to. That was a hell of a lot of money. And how bad could it be? She looked around the very large office, taking in the two luxurious seating groupings—a contemporary leather sofa and love seat on one side, cozy barrel chairs and another sofa on the other, the conference area with its long, shiny teak table, and the kitchenette area with the adjoining bathroom. It truly was private.

  He read her mind. “I can always close the drapes unless you’d prefer I left them open.”

  The huge panes of glass looked out at the city skyline. The expanse of blue sky filled most of the area as the closest office building was a block away. Still, she probably would feel better with the drapes closed. What was she thinking? She wasn’t going to do this!

  As if sensing her mood, he pushed a button on his desk and the drapes that had been tucked to the sides of the wall began to move in toward the center of the room. With his other finger he flicked a series of switches, and lights came on all over the room, softly illuminating the different areas and compensating for the lost light.

  “It’ll be cozy. Just the two of us.” Another finger pressed a button and she heard the lock click in the office door behind her. “Private. No one will ever bother us. I don’t allow it. It’s my company and everybody knows my rules.”

  “If I were to take the job, when would I begin?” she asked timidly.

  “Now. I would like you to take the job right now. He nodded to a pad at the corner of the desk and handed her a pen. “I have some dictation we can work on right this very minute.”

  “Naked?”

  “Well yes, one of us anyway. I don’t get naked, unless of course you insist on it. And actually I don’t need you naked today, just topless. Strip from the waist up and we can get to work.”

  “You’re serious aren’t you?”

  “Of course I’m serious. Now either accept the position and take off your blouse and your bra, or decline so I can continue the interviewing process.” He was getting impatient and it showed.r />
  She dropped her head and stared into her lap, wondering if she could even do this. Then she thought about the previous secretary and how she was on maternity leave to have her baby. She’d wanted a baby for three years now, but Robert kept saying they didn’t have the money for a baby yet. She lifted her head and pushed her shoulders back. “Okay, I’ll do it. I’ll take the job.”

  “Good. You’re welcome to disrobe in the bathroom or I’d love watching you strip right there.”

  She met his hot eyes with hers and wanted to cringe. He was not a bad looking man, in fact, some would consider him handsome. But she didn’t feel anything for him, no attraction, no lust, and certainly no love. How was she going to do this? She opted for removing her clothes in the bathroom, but then realized that meant she’d have to leave them in there. And in case she had second thoughts about this, it would be better to have them close at hand. She put her purse on the floor, took the pad from the corner of the desk, and reached for the pen he was handing her.

  “Welcome aboard, Mrs. Rowe. Now show me your titties.”

  She did cringe then, and he laughed. “Sorry, the vulgar talk goes along with the job. You’ll get used to it.”

  She sat there and just stared at him until he had to prompt her. “Uh, unbutton Mrs. Rowe, if you please. I’d like to get started.”

  Slowly her hand inched its way to the lacy jabot at her throat. She undid the button holding it on and let it fall into her lap. Then keeping her eyes on the green floor-length drapes behind her new boss’ desk, she undid each button. When they were all undone, she spread the plackets wide and let him view her in her plunging bra.

  “Lovely,” he murmured. “Absolutely lovely. If any cleavage should boast diamonds, it certainly should be yours.” He was referring to the small mustard seed encased in a glass bead that dangled between her breasts. “I hope your husband rectifies that one day. If not, in time, I surely will,” he whispered.