by Juniper Bell
“The next morning I didn’t know if I’d dreamed it. Ethan said nothing, just sat with his back to the wall, his eyes long, blue slits of light in the darkness. Those eyes were like a beacon to me. Literally. I watched his eyes for hours. I clung to Ethan’s strength. That’s what got me through it. When the guards messed with me, it didn’t bother me as much anymore. And every night Ethan would come to me and take my penis into his mouth and suck me dry.”
“You were stronger than you thought,” murmured Ethan.
“Maybe. Probably. But it’s all in your mind, after all. You taught me that. Once I could see that my mind was my own, the guards couldn’t touch me. Not in the same way.”
Ethan stared at the carpet, his jaw working. It felt strange that we were all on the floor, but also right. Almost as if we were re-enacting what had happened in the cave.
“After some time,” continued Simon, “the tables turned, and it became my privilege to suck Ethan off. I made it clear to him what was in my heart, that my body belonged to him. That my loyalty, my love, would always belong to him. After that we became lovers in every possible way. As I said, I’d never been with a man before. But it didn’t matter to me whether Ethan was a man or a woman. He was Ethan. He saved me. That bond can’t ever be broken, though it’s been tested a few times.” He gave me a lopsided grin. “Like when I fell for you.”
I shook my head. I was just a girl off the streets of Low-Life. What did these two incredible men see in me? “What happened?” I whispered.
“Eventually Ethan told me he had an escape plan already worked out. He’d been on the verge of implementing it when I showed up. But now everything had changed. He didn’t have enough resources for both of us to get out. Only one of us could go. I was under his protection, as he saw it. Therefore that person had to be me. We fought about it, but you know what a stubborn ass he can be.”
His voice held such deep love that tears came to my eyes.
“So I used the burka he’d stashed away, stole away when Ethan conked the guard on the head, met with the Russian soldier he’d paid, made contact with the British agent who had helped set it up. I made my escape, though I couldn’t stop thinking about what sort of treatment Ethan received after I’d gone.”
Ethan’s ice-blue eyes revealed nothing. Clearly, some secrets were never to be told.
“And then I did everything I could to make sure they didn’t give up on Ethan. I stayed in London, pestering everyone, emptying my bank account. Eventually I had to come back to the States. They were sick of me by then and threatened to deport me. But they’d gotten the message, and soon I heard that Ethan had been released and was recovering in a hospital. Then one day the phone rang and it was him. I told him if he wanted a new life, New York was the place to be. It was one of the happiest days of my life when he booked a ticket across the Atlantic.”
The bond between them felt physical, thrumming in the quiet air of the office. It felt as though I could reach out and touch it, test it by bouncing my fist on it.
“After that, happily ever after?”
Ethan snorted. “Happily ever after in Low-Life, Long Island? Sounds like an oxymoron.”
“We set about starting our lives over again,” said Simon. “You can’t come out of a situation like that the same person. We were both different. You could say we were both destroyed and reforged in Afghanistan. No one else can understand. We didn’t work together until the fiasco with Margo, but we stayed close. We stayed lovers. And since we both enjoy women, we tried to find ways to invite women in. But nothing worked until we found you.”
“The Receptionist.”
“No, Dana Arthur,” corrected Ethan. “Beautiful, vibrant, sensual, strong, adventurous Dana Arthur. You’re a survivor like we are. Maybe that’s what draws us together.”
Simon stroked the hair off my forehead, cuddling me once again against his back. He cupped my breasts. “I suppose I should be embarrassed that I can never keep my hands off you.”
I looked down at his hand, so strong and capable. Black hairs at his wrist, a scar across one knuckle. I thought of everything he’d been through, him and Ethan. They’d stumbled out of hell, wounded and bloodied, and into my life. Whatever they needed from me, it was theirs. Forever.
“Thanks for telling me.” I put one hand to Simon’s cheek, the other on Ethan’s muscle-ridged arm. “It means so much to me.”
Ethan nodded. “Now if you don’t mind, let’s not ever speak of that time again.”
Simon shuddered. “Second that. Let’s talk about something more fun. Like what we’re going to do about Margo Lang.”
At noon the next day, the three of us pushed open the door of Lang Unlimited. Margo’s office was in a small brownstone in a neighborhood that pretended to be historical because immigrants used to live ten to a room in the tenements. Some developer had fixed it up and marketed it as a desirable business address. Either people fell for that crap or they couldn’t afford anything better. Maybe Margo spent all her money on handbags, who knew?
But she had a gold-edged nameplate on her door and the office was furnished with antiques and a burgundy carpet. I approved of the color because no one notices if you spill wine on carpet like that. Instead of a receptionist, she kept a small push-bell at the teak desk.
I took that as a personal insult. But I pushed it anyway. It made a discreet little chiming ring that Ethan and Simon ignored. They strode right past the desk and through the door beyond. I scrambled to catch up. I wasn’t used to just barging in like that. I liked to pay respect to the receptionist role, even if it was played by a little silver bell.
When I tumbled into the office, Margo had already leaped to her feet behind her glass and chrome desk. Ethan and Simon faced her with legs spread, arms folded, like Godfather extras in business suits and rocking haircuts.
Margo’s sharp green eyes were spitting fire behind her designer glasses. When she saw me, she found a target for her bitterness.
“I see you brought your sex toy along.”
Wrong move.
Ethan didn’t move a muscle but his voice cut through the air like ice. “If you want to come out of this meeting with anything resembling a future, I suggest you treat Ms. Arthur with respect.”
Her face went tight, her eyelids wavered, the edges of her mouth turned white from her effort to keep the words in.
“Pardon,” she finally muttered.
Not loud enough for Ethan, though. “Excuse me?”
“I beg your pardon, Ms. Arthur,” she said, more loudly. She squared her shoulders. “I take it you haven’t brought me the evidence you promised?”
“There’s evidence, all right. Evidence that means you forfeit our agreement. No more shares in Cowell & Dirk. Not only that, but if you make any moves against us or ever come near us again, we have information on your finances that could be extremely damaging, either in the hands of the IRS or local law enforcement.”
Her face went stark white. I would have felt sorry for her if she hadn’t hissed, “That little freak.”
Simon spoke. “You should consider all employees of our firm under our protection. That includes our new accountant, Mr. Peter Standish. Any threat against him will be considered a threat against Cowell & Dirk. We mean business, Margo.”
“Business.” She repeated the word with sheer malice dripping from every syllable. She looked down at her desk, fiddled with a paperweight, then looked back up with an entirely new expression, suddenly sultry and provocative. It was eerie how quickly she turned it on. She ran her tongue across her red lips. “I know you two. Business and pleasure are always one for Cowell & Dirk. And Ms. Arthur too, I presume.”
“If that’s how you see it, you don’t know us at all,” said Ethan, shortly. “We’re not here for games. We’re here to reclaim our company.”
“Company.” The word sounded lush when surrounded by those full, suddenly gleaming lips. “Have you asked your favorite receptionist what she wants?”
S
tartled, I stared at her. She came around the desk and perched one hip on the edge, her body turned away from the two men to create a private space between us.
“This little meeting was engineered by you, am I right? You tricked me. You outwitted me.” Oh, how it hurt her to say it—the resentment was written in her clenched jaw and taut neck muscles. “You’re obviously brighter than I thought.”
That didn’t sound like a compliment.
“You must want more out of life than being a receptionist. I’ll sign my share of the company over to you if you’ll come work with me.”
“What, be your assistant the way you offered before? No thanks.”
“No. With me. Not under me or on top of me or sandwiched between me. I’ll teach you everything you need to know to succeed.”
I made a little face. “I’m not sure I want lessons from you.”
“You think they’re ever going to let you in all the way? You’ll always be the third wheel. The afterthought. The receptionist. They’ll never share everything with you.”
I flinched. How had she reached into my brain and put her perfectly manicured finger on my deepest worry?
“Don’t you want more? More power. More authority. Don’t you want to hire people and fire them and boss them around and toy with them for a change? Your bosses owe you. If they truly appreciate you and your efforts to trap me, they’ll agree to this arrangement.”
I looked at Ethan for help. He’d gone still and deadly, like a gunfighter in a showdown. Blue ice glittered as he glanced from me to Margo. “She’s right. If that’s what you want, we’ll agree to it. If you want to work with Margo, so be it. I may not always agree with her methods, but she is highly knowledgeable. You’d likely learn quite a bit. And Dana…” His voice went intense and intimate. “Don’t worry. We’ll still love you.”
Wow. Ethan telling me he loved me, right out in the open. In front of his enemy. I could barely believe it.
“Always,” Simon murmured in agreement.
My heart swelled with love for my two guys.
I cleared my throat. “Let me get this straight. I get twenty percent of Cowell & Dirk in exchange for leaving them and joining your firm.”
“Exactly. Too bad we can’t break it down so your twenty percent includes their cocks.” She turned toward them and flicked her green scalpel gaze over their bodies. “That’s the best part of the firm.”
I’d had enough of her nastiness. Time to go Low-Life on her spoiled ass. “You’re a clueless bitch, aren’t you?”
She stood up and glared down her nose at me like a queen before an offensive peasant. “Excuse me?”
“I’d learn more from my neighborhood pimp. How can I work with someone so stupid? Power doesn’t mean toying with people. It isn’t about control. It’s surrender. Trust. Power is when you inspire people, when they want to work for you, when they trust you and would do anything for you. Simon, Ethan and I trust each other. You, I wouldn’t trust with a goldfish. You don’t deserve to have any share in Cowell & Dirk or anything to do with us. Any of us.”
“How dare you? Just who do you think you are?” She clenched her hands until her knuckles went white. Apparently she wasn’t used to back talk. Luckily, I was very used to providing it, as my stepmother would agree.
“I think I’m exactly who I am. I wouldn’t want to be anyone else. Especially you. Your offer is a non-starter. I reject it. Sign the agreement with Ethan and Simon so we can all get the hell out of here.”
Simon, with a piratical grin, said, “Actually, our lawyer will send you the agreement.”
“Fine,” she hissed. “Once a receptionist, always a receptionist, I suppose.”
Ethan stepped forward and took me by the elbow. “Never come near any of us again, Margo. That includes Dana and Standish. That includes running into them on the street or at the Chinese place or anywhere else. If we see you, we might choose to investigate who called our office masquerading as the IRS. I’d recommend relocating, in fact. We don’t need your type in Low-Life.”
I laughed at that. I’d take a homeless junkie any day over someone like Margo Lang.
We all turned to go. I felt icy daggers raking my back as we left, but if Margo’s only remaining weapon was her nasty stare, I’d consider myself the victor.
We strode out of the building feeling like conquering heroes.
“You did well in there,” said Ethan when we reached the street. The wind bit against my face and sent my hair into a wild black whirl. He buttoned up my coat with a tender look. “Not that I ever doubted you would.”
“Maybe she thinks it was hard to choose, but it wasn’t even close. And now the firm is one hundred percent yours!” I skipped with happiness.
“Ours,” corrected Simon.
“Yeah, ours, whatever.” Typical of him to include me, even if I wasn’t actually a member of the firm.
“Not ‘whatever’,” said Ethan. “Really. That twenty percent is now yours.”
“What?”
“You earned it. You outwitted our nemesis. She’s gone for good now, thanks to you. And you’ve earned another thirteen point three percent to go with it.”
“But…but…” I gulped. That added up to one third, if I wasn’t mistaken.
“She had no idea what she unleashed when she messed with you.” Simon put one gloved hand on my back and began to steer me down the street toward the town car waiting for us. Ethan was already a few steps ahead.
“I must admit, I feel better knowing Dana’s on our side.” Ethan nodded to the driver, who opened the door for him. He waited until Simon and I had climbed into the black leather backseat, then joined us. The driver closed the door with a soft, German-engineered snick. “Whenever we’re in trouble, we can unleash our secret weapon.”
“Very funny,” I scoffed. “Dana Arthur, receptionist slash secret weapon.”
“Don’t scoff. It’s your job now. You own a third of the firm. It’s your responsibility to save our asses at least one third of the time.”
“I can think of better things to do with your asses,” I shot back. I felt giddy with freedom. No more worry about the firm, the IRS, Margo Lang. Just the delicious pleasure of being with my two bosses.
“And that’s only one of the reasons we love you.” Ethan put a hand on my knee. “Now I’ve been thinking. Anyone have any ideas on how to welcome our new accountant to the firm?”
Chapter Eleven
Later that week, after we’d gotten Standish set up in his new office, I gave him a quick rundown of the in-house video system. It felt a little like giving a junkie the keys to the crack house. But who was I to judge? When it came to Cowell & Dirk, I was the biggest addict of them all. On the software spy program, I showed him the various camera shots.
“The person in the office can turn the camera off. Mostly we leave them off. But I wanted you to see how it all works. If we switch the camera on, be assured that we know what we’re doing.”
A tint of red crept up his plump cheeks. He knew what I was saying. My smart little accountant didn’t need me to spell it out.
“I hope you’ll be happy here,” I added. “I’m pretty sure you will.” As I left his office, I tossed a saucy wink over my shoulder. “We like our employee satisfaction to be one hundred percent here.”
He beamed at me from behind his aviator glasses and gave me a thumb’s up. Gosh, he was cute.
I strolled into Ethan’s office. He looked terribly stern. So did Simon, who tapped a ruler against one palm. My clit twitched at the sight of that long wooden stick bouncing off his palm. I knew it well; they’d removed the metal edge for our playtime purposes.
“Hello, my dear,” said Ethan, under his breath. “Is your pet all set? Does he have cock in hand, ready for the show?”
I whispered back. “I can’t speak for his cock, but his eyes looked ready to pop.”
“No wonder. You’re a sight for sore eyes, as always.”
Now that Standish was one of us, I’d
felt free to dress in my usual style. Business obscene, you might call it. Thigh-high stockings that didn’t quite reach my kilt, which was fastened with black patent leather buckles. A bustier under a tight cashmere sweater that buttoned up the front. Stiletto boots made me feel six inches taller, though still substantially shorter than either Ethan or Simon.
Ethan raised his voice so the camera mic would pick it up. “We’re going to have you sit in on an interview, Dana. Have a seat.”
He positioned two chairs in front of the desk—at center stage, so to speak. I sat down, mystified. What kind of game did they have in mind? I held my breath as Simon opened the adjoining door to his office.
In walked Belinda, the Girl with the Demon Tongue. She was dressed like a good little job applicant in a tidy blue suit and tight-ass updo, but the excited flush on her face told me she’d come for a lot more than an interview. She winked at me.
I grinned at her, recognizing the genius of Ethan’s idea. Standish would love watching two girls together. I rose and shook her hand.
“Thank you so much for coming in today.”
“My pleasure. I’ve been waiting for the call.” Her seductive smile informed me she knew exactly what she was getting into. I prepared to channel every bad porn movie I’d ever seen.
“Please sit down.” I gestured to the chair that would give Standish the best view of her. “Now,” I said, settling into my chair and pulling out my notepad. “Why don’t you start by telling us about your experience.”
“Well…” Belinda uncrossed her legs, then slowly crossed them again, giving me and the camera a brief shot of bare pussy. “I’ve worked mostly in the food-service field.”
“As you know, we’re not in that business. Would you be willing to consider some other kind of service?”
“That’s why I’m here,” she breathed. “I live to serve.”
Ohh, good answer. She was obviously relishing her role. I decided to throw her a curve ball.
“I can’t help but notice that you’re not wearing underwear.”