by King Key
They walked together up the steps through the steeply sloped lawn. “The first floor is my home office. Except the kitchen. Couldn’t move it upstairs. Sometimes I invite clients here during negotiations.”
“To avoid rumors if they’re spotted near BizMart.”
“Exactly. Have a seat on the couch while I make coffee.”
Jessica sat down. “It’s cold in here.” She rubbed her arms.
“I keep the thermostat low when I’m out.” Kurt hurried down the hall and pushed the needle to seventy-two. He walked to the kitchen, measured and poured the water, measured the coffee, and turned on the coffee maker.
“How long have you been divorced?” Jessica asked when he returned. When he remained silent, she said, “Sorry to be so blunt. But some woman has trained you well.”
“Thanks, I guess. Five years. She had a career. I have a career. We were pulling in different directions.”
“Not to mention fetishes. Right? You liked her body so-so. But if she put on an outfit that made her look like a wet seal, you went crazy. A woman would never fall for such an exaggerated lure. So, she lost patience with you.”
“How did you—?” Kurt’s took a deep breath. “Oh, yeah,” he recalled. “I told you Rich and I talked about women in shiny clothes. You remember details.”
“Fetishes are one of those Venus-Mars differences. The coffee smells good.”
“Yuban. Colombian blend, but not gourmet.”
“What’s going on at BizMart?”
“You got all night?” When she raised an eyebrow, Kurt explained, “I mean, it would take that long to explain—if I knew. Speculating would take all week. I think Sidney’s trying to bring BizMart down. He’s sent Gretel on a search and destroy mission.”
Jessica sighed. “I must tell you something about Gretel.”
“I’ve got something to say about her, too,” he said. “But, ladies first.”
“Where to begin?” Jessica pondered. “First of all, Gretel isn’t doing Sidney’s bidding. She’s out for herself.”
“You mean she’s in charge of Chimera?”
“Not officially. She’s waiting for her chance to strike. To kick Sidney out so fast he won’t know what hit him.”
“That sounds so—”
“Ruthless? That’s Gretel. She gets nasty when she goes after something. Whatever it takes. If it’s any consolation, she’s not out to destroy BizMart. Just cripple it.”
Kurt wanted to defend Gretel. But he held his tongue.
Jessica studied his face. She probably knew he was infatuated with Gretel.
“Excuse me while I get the coffee.” He walked to the kitchen. When he returned, he held a tray containing a carafe of coffee, two cups and spoons, sugar, artificial sweetener, nondairy creamer, and cream.
Jessica stared at the tray. “Nothing like overkill.”
“I believe in options.”
“Options? Where are the whips and chains?” Jessica asked with mock enthusiasm. “Strike that. Before the awards ceremonies, we might have pursued that topic. After what happened tonight, we should clear the air.”
“How do you know so much about Gretel?” he asked.
“Did you know Gretel used to be a business broker?”
“Good lord!” Kurt exclaimed. “She might as well try to be a spy. She’s too flashy for either profession. I take that back. Gretel was too stealthy for me. I never heard of her before she put Chimera on the map.” He poured their coffee.
“Straight out of college, she married Gregory Charles Messick, heir to a multimillion-dollar conglomerate, and went to work for a slob named Lance Sterling in upstate New York.”
“Lance Sterling? Sounds like a movie star.”
“Hardly. He’s fat and balding. But he and Gretel were soul mates. They both get their kicks out of shafting people. She fused her names, Gretel and Chastity, and went by Gretcha.” Jessica sipped her coffee black. “Tastes good.”
“Thanks. My dad told me Alan King used an expression that sounded like ‘Gretcha’ in the late ’60s. Roughly translated, I think it meant, ‘Gotcha!’” Kurt added a pack of sweetener and plenty of nondairy creamer to his coffee.
“Yeah, she was a walking ‘Gotcha.’ Sterling loved her style but she was too nasty even for him. Gave the company a bad name. He fired her.”
“Maybe Sterling was afraid Gretel would take over his company.”
“Probably. But Gretel was ready to move on. She tricked her husband into divorce and took his money to move to Raleigh, North Carolina, part of a region called the Research Triangle. Lots of business activity to keep a broker busy.”
“How did she trick him?”
“Brace yourself. She got Greg stumbling drunk, changed into a black wig and sunglasses, and made love to him while Sterling recorded the action with a digital camera. The video documented Greg’s infidelity—grounds for divorce.”
Kurt fought the grin that came to his face, but it wouldn’t go away. “Greg got divorced for boffing his own wife?”
“It’s not funny,” Jessica protested, with a rueful grin on her face. “Gretel is so rotten, it’s laughable. And men are so easy to manipulate.” She sipped her coffee. “While she was in Raleigh, Greg died of a heart attack. But he forgot to change his will. Gretel inherited a fortune.”
“Why on earth does she work at Chimera? Doesn’t she have enough to retire?”
“The family is still contesting the will in court. Anyway, Gretel never had to work a day of her life after she got married. But she loves taking charge.” Jessica shook her head. “She’s just like Mom. Her mom. Thrives on wheeling and dealing. She married a wealthy guy named Hansel Fox in Raleigh.”
Kurt shot her a skeptical glance.
“No joke,” Jessica grimaced. “She couldn’t resist a Hansel and Gretel pairing. Lasted a year. But she got another big chunk of money because he kept the house.”
“Doesn’t the wife usually get the house after a divorce?” Kurt asked.
“Gretel couldn’t stay. The business community ran her out of town because of her dirty tricks. So, she moved to Baltimore and kept the name Fox. She thinks she’s foxy.”
“Yeah! What kind of dirty tricks?”
“Thought you’d never ask. She tells Company A she’ll help them acquire Company B. Then she corrupts Company B to bring the value down. Company A gives her a kickback, about half the difference between the original, true value and the ‘Gretel-adjusted’ value. Then she magically improves the old Company B and gets a fat consulting fee from the parent Company A.”
“BizMart is Company B. Is Chimera Company A?”
“That’s too simple for Gretel. My guess is she owns several companies. Maybe has a holding company.” Jessica finished her coffee and poured another cup. “I suspect, at the end of the day, Gretel’s holding company—if she has one—will acquire BizMart, Chimera, and maybe a few other companies. And Gretel will keep the fees and profits.”
“How do you know all this?”
“Let me use your restroom first. Then you tell me what you wanted to say about Gretel, and I’ll tell you how I know so much.”
“Down the hall. First door on the right.”
When Jessica walked away in her tight, white gown, her departure lacked the high drama of a Gretel exit. After she returned, Kurt’s heartbeat accelerated when she asked him, “What were you going to say about Gretel?”
“I have a big crush on her. I don’t know—”
“Happens all the time,” she said nonchalantly. She handed him another business card. “I wrote my home address on the back,” she said. “Come by after you visit that quack tomorrow. Noonish. I’ll fix lunch.”
“Did you hear what I said?”
Jessica’s formerly warm brown eyes turned to anthracite. “I’ll steal you from Gretel, like she stole Rich from me. That’s right. He used to be my husband.”
“But his name is Leckie, and yours is Noble.”
“I took back my maiden name�
�and Gretel’s maiden name: Noble. She’s my little sister.” Jessica suddenly took Kurt’s face in her hands and kissed him deeply. He still gasped for air after their lips parted. “Let this be a warning, Kurt. Never, ever place yourself between dueling ovaries.”
Chapter Fifteen
Gretel’s True Love
While Bruiser drove Gretel from the Inner Harbor to her Mercedes parked near the Constellation, she retrieved Kurt’s wallet from under the front seat. She slipped out all of his cash, slithered the handful of money down the inside her dress into her bra, and slid Kurt’s wallet into her purse. Gretel removed her own billfold and keys from her purse.
At the parking area near the ship, she gave Bruiser the number to Honey Bates’ room. Handing Bruiser her purse, she instructed him to give the Pacesetter trophy and her purse to Honey for safekeeping at the hotel.
“Don’t even think about taking anything,” she warned him. “I know everything that’s in my purse.” Savoring the fright on Bruiser’s face, she scurried to her Mercedes and drove back to her house.
When she opened the door, Gretel heard a remarkable imitation of a chainsaw emanating from her living room. She found Judd Workman snoring through his sound sleep on her couch. Considering how sick and worn-out he looked at the Vanguard meeting, Gretel felt relieved that he could rest. She crept through the hallway past the living room entrance and up the stairs to her room. She longed to shower herself sparkling clean for her lover but decided she’d have to bathe later.
Stripping quickly from her gold outfit, pantyhose, and bra, Gretel counted Kurt’s cash at roughly eight hundred dollars and put it in the top right drawer of her vanity. She squeezed into another white girdle, hooked her black stockings to it, and slid white panties up to cover her nest. After strapping on her bra, she slid a tight-fitting black satin dress on. Even in the dim light of her bedroom, the material glimmered seductively. Gretel stepped into black patent leather pumps, two-and-a-half inches high instead of the stilts she had worn that afternoon and night. She retrieved the jewelry belonging to Casper’s wife from her tattered shopping bag. Gretel reveled in clasping the necklace and pinning the earrings for what would be a landmark occasion—changing three lives irrevocably: hers, Casper’s, and Casper’s wife’s.
Gretel put her keys in her large, patent leather pocketbook and added a pair of elbow-length black leather gloves, in case Casper forgot to buy her the new pair she demanded. Wrapping a black mink stole around her shoulders, Gretel admired herself in the vanity mirror.
Closing the door to her bedroom, she took out her cell phone and dialed. “Casper, I’m on my way.”
“You’re late.”
“Don’t sass me, boy. Are you ready for your bath?”
“No, ma’am.”
“You’d better be completely naked when I get there. Understand?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Gretel powered off, flipped the phone shut, and returned it to her pocketbook. She tiptoed past Judd without waking him up, closed the door quietly, and hurried to her car.
She noticed another car pull out behind her when she drove off. Traffic was light for a Friday night, and she made good time to Casper’s mansion. The other car trailed her up the driveway and parked a discreet distance behind Gretel’s Mercedes.
She grabbed the briefcase on the front seat, snatched the keys from the ignition, opened the car door, and slid out. Closing the car door, she locked the car with her electronic keypad. Gretel hurried up the walkway to the front door of the house. It was unlocked.
When she opened the door, Casper stood before her, naked except for a pair of black socks. Gretel stepped inside and closed the door.
“I told you to be completely naked.”
Casper grinned with the impish defiance of his childhood and the eagerness of the grown man expecting a beautiful woman to thrash him. “Nobody’s perfect.” He laughed at his attempted humor, and then cackled when he added, “Aunt Fanny!”
“You may call me Mrs. Payne,” she said crisply, almost laughing at the thought. What a name! Fanny Payne. No wonder Casper associated his aunt with excruciating delight. “Fanny Payne” identified her and described what resounding physical ecstasy she brought to Casper. Too bad Gretel couldn’t use that name in Casper’s office, but his joyful cries of “Fanny Payne!” would have summoned security instantly.
“Since you disobeyed Mrs. Payne,” she said, “write your name four times on these papers.” Opening her briefcase, Gretel took out the copies of the contract that would give her twenty-five percent of BizMart’s current value. She put the papers on the coffee table and handed Casper a pen.
He reluctantly signed his name in the indicated spaces. “So much equity.”
“You’ll still have thirty-five percent—more than anyone else.” She blew on his signatures to dry the ink. Securing the papers in her briefcase, Gretel added, “If I take care of your physical needs, you must take care of my financial needs.”
“There’s a name for that,” he said, looking vulnerable in his nudity, despite his dour expression. He held out the pen.
“It’s called addiction,” she cooed. “You’re the junkie and I’m the dealer. Keep my pen as a souvenir. Be right back.” Gretel returned the briefcase to her car and relocked the doors. The other car was still there.
Stepping back inside Casper’s mansion, Gretel immersed herself, momentarily, into sweetness and kindness. Casper stood powerless against her, but he would remain addicted to her longer if she continued to mix charm with harshness, instead of a steady diet of either. “Do you have a new pair of gloves for Mrs. Payne?”
Casper smiled again. “Yes, ma’am!” He felt relieved to have the business portion of their rendezvous behind them. “They’ll go well with your dress. I love the way the light shines and makes your curves stand out. Makes me want to hug you.”
“Casper!” She acted shocked before pretending to let a smile escape. “Take your socks off. Then bring my gloves to me.”
“Anything you say, Aunt—Mrs. Payne.” Sitting on the floor, his rod standing at attention, Casper eagerly shed his socks—although an object in his right hand slowed him down. Gamboling, childlike, to an end table beside the couch by the window, he snatched up the gloves in his left hand. His right was still balled around the mysterious object.
“Stay there,” she commanded. She walked to the couch. “You like to watch Mrs. Payne put on her gloves, don’t you?” She took the gloves in her hands. Her green eyes bored into his.
“I just like to watch you, Mrs. Payne. Especially when you’re dressed up like a rich lady. Your heinie looks so shiny in that dress!” Casper blushed. “I like your gloves, too. They’re so pretty and shiny. It’s a treat to watch you wiggle your hands into them.”
Gretel threaded her hand and arm into her left glove first, wrinkling up the leather, and then smoothing it out when she pushed her fingertips to the tips of the glove. She flexed her hand and pulled the leather taut. She held her hand up and rotated it laterally, palm toward her and then away, without bending her wrist, to allow the faint lamplight to coruscate off the leather.
Casper stared in wonder. Gretel thought his innocence resembled Sidney’s for a moment, but their preference in genders differed drastically. Casper was totally ingenuous, a child once more. “Do it again.”
Gretel slithered her right hand into its glove more slowly than the left. When the leather bunched up, she smoothed out three- or four-inch sections, one at a time, starting at her wrist and working her way to the upper rim of her glove. She undulated her hand and arm, like a snake that decided to wiggle vertically instead of horizontally, and extended her fingers to tighten the fit.
Casper dropped whatever he was holding.
“What was that?”
“A condom. Daddy says if you use one of these, you’ll be safe.”
“He does, and he is,” Gretel smiled.
Casper frowned when he picked up the condom. Gretel had just cracked the found
ation of their fantasy.
“It’s all right,” she reassured him. “You’re still Mrs. Payne’s little boy. You always will be, Casper. I love to spank you more than anyone else in the whole wide world. Even better than your daddy.”
He frowned harder. The fault line in the pedestal for Mrs. Payne split wider.
“Kneel down, Casper, and Mrs. Payne will give you a special treat.” While he was on his knees, Gretel took his head in her hands, let him sniff the leather aroma of her gloves, and pressed his face into her crotch.
Casper turned his head and rubbed his right cheek against her, with his eyes closed in contentment. He turned his head to the right and caressed her delta with his left check.
Gretel took her hands away and turned her back to him. Casper put his arms around her hips. He rubbed one of his cheeks against her ass cheeks, and then he slid his other cheek across the slick fabric over her buttocks. “Your fanny feels so good, Aunt Fanny. I mean, Mrs. Payne.” Casper pressed the front of his face squarely into her tightly packed mass of flesh. Gretel literally had Casper where she wanted him. And she knew what she, or Aunt Fanny, meant to Casper.
“Put your condom on. This time, you can play with yourself. Mrs. Payne says so.”
“Thank you!” Casper slid the latex tube on so forcefully Gretel feared that he’d cause himself to shoot off before he got started.
“I still must discipline you for not being completely undressed.”
“Yes, ma’am. I was bad. So, you have to punish me.”
“Bend over the couch.” Gretel’s right hand smacked his fleshy buttocks with an introductory, medium swat. She slapped him as hard as she could on the second shot, directly on his anus. “This isn’t punishment,” she said, hitting him again with as much force as she could muster. “It’s discipline. Punishment is just getting even.” Two quick whacks. “Discipline makes you a better person.” Three quick whacks. “Someday, you’ll thank your Aunt Fanny. Mrs. Payne in the ass.” She unleashed a torrent of slaps, working both hands into the onslaught.
Casper wept softly and pumped hard. His joy couldn’t reach its height until his suffering reached its depth. “Please make me good,” he begged.