The Sandstone Affair (An Erotic Romance Novel)

by Priscilla West

  “Follow.” Mark holds up his hands as if he is showing me the plan on an imaginary presentation board. I cross my arms over my chest and look skeptical as he lays out the idea.

  “Before you spend a lot of breath on this, the answer is ‘no.’” I warn. How could he even think I would do something so absurd?

  “Wait, look. Blake knows about me and you and he gave you evidence about me. So he will believe you are desperate to get your company back, and now because of the pictures, you no longer trust me. In fact, you can tell him that if one of us is going to use you for sex, it might was well be the brother who can actually give you Lynx back. Tell him you will do anything he requires you to do in order to stop the transfer. Don’t act like you want it–he won’t believe you. But act like you have no choice.”

  “Not wanting to have sex with Blake won’t require much acting,” I say dryly. This is crazy.

  “The only thing Blake likes better than sex is humiliating someone. So he will egg you on, say rude things, try to shock you with profanity. But when he’s done with that, he will agree to the sex. He’s not going to just want it, he is going to want to remember it. Our offices have security cameras everywhere but we keep most of them turned off because it’s a lot of tape and storage. So when he is ready for it, he will leave his office to go to the control room to turn on his cameras. At that point you’ll be totally alone in his office. You can make the switch and run out the door shouting you just couldn’t go through with it. He will be mad but we will have the folder and he won’t suspect a thing. Easy as pie.”

  “Disgusting as cow pies,” I remark. I don’t want to be on the same planet with that man, let alone offering him my body. “He’s grotesque and repugnant. How am I supposed to pretend I’m willing to give him sex when I can barely look at him without throwing up?”

  “You’re an investigative journalist, Julia. You’ll find a way. Besides, you don’t have to do it, you just have to get him to believe you’re willing. Then you make the getaway. Do you have one of those large purses? The kind that’s more like a magazine bag than fashion bag? You can hide the fake folder in it. Sit it close to the bookshelf when you go in.”

  “Yes, but what if he doesn’t leave the room? What if he decides he doesn’t want it recorded? Then what happens?”

  “Improvise. Tell him you feel dizzy or to wait a second. Stand up and leave. You are younger, smarter and far more athletic.” Mark reached out and put his warm hand on my cheek directing my eyes to his. “Your safety comes first. If you think he will hurt or touch you in any way–get out of there. Losing Lynx would make me mad; losing you would kill me.”

  I nod. I can’t believe I’m going along with this nutso scheme, but Mark is right. It really is the only way to get alone in his office. Mark draws a picture of the office on a napkin, as if I hadn’t been arrested there already, and shows me all the exits. He prepares himself to call Blake and warns me that I won’t like what I hear. He instructs me repeatedly to remember it’s all a ruse and says he has to talk to Blake “in his own language” which means crude and gross.

  “I’ve been an investigative reporter for my whole career,” I scoff. “I know how undercover works.”

  “Hey Blake,” Mark says into his cell with a cynical tone. He’s a good actor, that I’ll give him. “You aren’t going to believe this. I’ve got the deal of a lifetime for you. You know Julia, from Lynx. Yeah. Well, the night you fired her she came storming into my office–just like she did yours. Yeah, I know. I should have called the cops like you and I should’ve told you. But I did something I think you would want to know about. I fucked her.”

  Mark puts his hand over the phone while Blake drones and mouths the words “I’m sorry” to me. They help the sting, but it still disturbs. He was right, this is harder to hear than I imagined. I should leave but I don’t. If I’m going to face Blake I’m going to hear worse than this, but it’s all for a good cause.

  “Afterward, I started this thing with her–you know–telling her I could help her if she gave me what I wanted. Yeah, it was pretty sweet. Then she blew a gasket or something. She came over to my place‒yeah‒I know‒never at my own place, you’re right about that, anyway she had these pictures. I don’t even know. She must have heard I dated Val so she had someone make pics of us like we were doing it. She was all pissed off. I think she was trying to blackmail me or Val or whatever. I know! That is ancient history. She’s a psycho.”

  Blake rambled off another string of something and laughed. It’s too bad Mark couldn’t use the speakerphone, but he said it would scare Blake off. I end up sitting down because all of this is making me sick.

  “So, I tell her we’re done. But today she came crying saying she wants to meet with you. She said you made her some kind of offer and she’s ready to take you up on it, but she can’t because of the cops. Did you offer her a job? Oh. Ha ha, yea–that kind of offer. Well, if you want it–sounds like you can have it, brother. A little after hours conference sounds right. When is that contract up? Yep, better hurry, don’t want to pass the expiration date, keep it fresh.”

  Mark talks with the same nasty chuckle I remember from Blake’s office. He tells Blake he will give me the message about what time to come and congratulates him on “making the best of the situation.”

  He gets off the phone and shrugs.

  “You’re in,” he says. I can see he has mixed feelings about the whole thing.

  “I don’t know who raised you two, but he must have been a piece of work,” I respond bitterly, still re-living that misogynistic laugh they share.

  “That’s his world, Julia. Not mine. If we get this right, neither one of us will ever have to be near it again.”

  Chapter 21

  My heels click loudly on the tile floor of the main lobby. The guard looks up and I nod at him, pointing to my shoes and giving him a cheesy grin so he knows I’m not trying to break the sound barrier on my way to the elevator. I wobble for a moment then gratefully find my feet on solid ground as I hit the carpet in the elevator car. The shoes were Mark’s idea. The whole outfit was put together by him, actually. A white blouse buttoned down the front with an accentuated waist, conservative black skirt, hose with garter belts and three inch pumps at a steep enough angle to give me a nosebleed. My hair is down, falling softly on my shoulders. A scarf completes the package.

  I get off the elevator on the proper floor, look for Mark but don’t see him. He wanted to be here to help me so he pretended to go home at his usual time, and then drove a friend’s car back to the office building. He’s supposed to be lurking somewhere around here. However, unless he has mastered the art of invisibility, he’s not here. I put off entering the door of Sandstone Ventures for as long as I can, but I eventually get to the point where I can’t wait any longer.

  The front office is dim, the light from the building giving it a shadowy appearance. It looks like a ghost town. Mark said when he left work Blake looked like the cat, preparing to meet the canary. My stomach rumbles and churns as I envy any bird that could fly away from this. A bright light comes from the left side down the hall. Blake’s office door is open and he sits behind his desk, pretending to work, waiting for me.

  I knock on the door jam and stand there, the huge purse making me feel even more obvious and awkward. It only has a few trinkets in it and the fake folder. I pretend it’s heavy so he won’t be surprised when I set it down. Blake looks up, allowing a serpentine smile spread across his lips.

  “Miss Sharp, how good of you to come,” he says with a fake air about him as thick as southern sweet tea. “I have longed to speak with you again.”

  “I’m just going to put this out there,” I say. Mark said to pretend to be shaken and desperate but there really isn’t any acting involved. This whole situation has my voice and body in tremors. “I can’t lose Lynx. I can’t lose my job. It’s who I am. I’m here to ask you to reconsider.”

  “You’re here to do what?” he asks drawing out each wo
rd.

  “To ask you to reconsider closing my company.”

  “To ask? Really? Ask? This time tomorrow, the waiting period is over and since no judge has issued any kind of stay, your company will be mine—lock, stock and stories. Your staff will be mine, your computers will be mine, hell even the copy machine will be mine. All you will have left is a fading memory of this monumental failure. And you’re here to ask me to stop this?”

  “I’m here‒um‒I’m here to beg you,” I surrender breathlessly.

  “Ah.” Blake leans back in his chair, sunning himself in my humiliation. “That’s more like it.”

  I drop my head, far heavier than my purse, as my heart sinks. We aren’t going to fool him. He’s just playing with me like a cat toy.

  “But why would I entertain any thought of helping you? What would it profit me?”

  “You’d still have control of one of the up-and-coming news magazines in New York. I have contacts, I have ability, I can, well, I can be used to influence people who might not want to end up in our pages, or to provide collateral for higher risks.” Putting Lynx out there to be used as one of his bullying tools makes me feel as violated as the rest of tonight’s agenda, but I have to keep him interested.

  “So, you would be of use to me?” he asks, the lecherous grin growing brighter.

  “I would, yes.”

  “Why would I believe you?”

  “Because I keep my word. My word means everything to me.”

  “Really? Because when Sandstone gave you the money to save your precious rag of a magazine you signed a contract saying you would support and respect the owners of this firm. And then just a few weeks ago you were in my hallway caterwauling like a mad woman, calling me all sorts of names and physically assaulting me. Do you consider that keeping a promise?”

  “No. I was upset. I am sorry for that. Very sorry,” I say, swallowing the bile rising in my throat. I’m sorry I didn’t flatten you on your ass you big windbag. I control myself and continue to play the role of the contrite woman begging for a second chance.

  “I’m supposed to believe you? I think you’ll need to prove it,” he says rising from his chair. He walks over and motions me to come forward. I am terrified he is going to kiss me, and if he does I might vomit all over him. But he stops by the shelf where his folder is hidden. “Do you know how you can prove it?”

  “I think I have a good idea,” I reply staring at the ground. I set the purse beside the bookcase and try to stand in some kind of open posture.

  “To be of use to me, you will have to be totally used by me,” he chides getting closer to my body as my knees begin to shake. “Are you ready to prove your usability?”

  “Yes,” I mutter softly to the floor. I am hoping this interview concludes soon before I lock my knees and pass out.

  “You’re a whore, then?” he asks only two steps away from me now as I back up against the bookshelf.

  “Apparently so,” I answer dryly, my face burning red, my eyes unable to look up from the carpet.

  “Well, let’s see if you’re a good one,” he chirps, grabbing me by the shoulder, sending shock waves through my body. I start to pull against him but realize he’s not pushing me over a chair or forcing me to the floor. He’s dragging me out of the office! I resist as much as I can, leaning over the grab the purse but I can’t reach it.

  “Wait, I—”

  “Leave it here, you can come back for it later,” Blake instructs. His voice gains a clarity, an urgency, it didn’t have before. “Don’t want any purse-cam pictures walking out of the office. My brother knows all about that little trick.”

  Frantic, I look around. He’s got me by the arm and is pulling me into the darkened hallway. I drag my feet.

  This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen!

  I look through the glass front of the office hoping to see Mark standing there. I wave my arms, pretending to lose balance, but all I can see is the light reflecting off the tiled floor of the outside world.

  “I prefer to test subjects in the conference room,” Blake croons an explanation. “The chairs are more comfortable and the room more suited for learning all your skills.”

  “Please, I—I need to slow down,” I say dragging my shoes against the carpet to force one to fall off. Thinking I can stop him long enough to retrieve it. The shoe heel finally snaps causing me to jostle as my other falls off.

  “Leave them,” Blake instructs. It’s clear he’s in charge now. Where the hell is Mark? I’m in trouble here. “You won’t need shoes for what we’re going to do.”

  “I’m, um, I’m not so sure—”

  Either Blake doesn’t hear me or doesn’t care. He pushes me into the conference room and closes the door behind him. I’m trapped. I’m trapped in a room with a couch and big chairs and a table waist high and a man who thinks I’ve given him the right to do what he wants. My purse is gone, the folder is still hidden and I’m stuck in here with this troll. Beads of sweat pour from my forehead as I stand, shoeless, shaking in the center of the room.

  Blake takes his hand and rubs the back of it across my cheek, tracing my lips with his finger. I bite my bottom lip and try to think of any plan that would stop this from happening.

  “As I recall,” he drones, stepping back a foot. “You were here to beg me for your company. Isn’t that right, whore?”

  “Yes,” I say, a look of disgust and anger crossing my red face. “I beg you to let me have Lynx back.”

  “You’re not in the right position for begging, are you?” he asks as I look confused, then places his hand on my shoulder and presses downward. “Oh dear, are you desperate and dumb?”

  I sink to my knees, the position placing my head right in front of his crotch. He leans forward, rubbing his pants against my face. I take a deep breath, a tear falling from my eye. Forgive me, Mark. Forgive me, Dad. Forgive me every professor, teacher, and friend. Forgive me for what I am about to have to do.

  He puts his left hand behind my head, ready to pull me forward, his hand with a firm grip on my hair, knowing I can’t escape. His other hand snakes to his pants, slowly pushing his zipper down. I see the bulge inside his boxer shorts bounce and jerk as he exposes his cock to me, my mouth only inches away.

  I close my eyes as I feel the pressure from behind my head pulling me toward him. My mouth, full of bile and bitter regret, opens obediently. I wait for that first sour taste.

  The whole room explodes into sound. A red light in the ceiling begins to circle round and round and the oppressive blaring of some kind of alarm shatters the air. Blake jumps back, his head practically spinning as he looks wildly around the room. He lets go of my hair and pushes me backwards running out into the hall.

  The sound rings out so loudly I can feel my heart starting to beat with the rhythm of the alarm. My brain kicks into action. That’s what it is, some kind of alarm. I look up and see the sprinkler heads have popped down. Blake has about two more minutes and this whole office is going to get sprayed with water and fire retardant. This is my chance! I bolt out of the conference room.

  The rotating red lights and harsh sounds disorient me momentarily and I realize I am running further into the office instead of to the exit. By the time I get my bearings and head the correct direction, Blake is coming back down the narrow hallway from his office. He sees me and starts to run, his fly still open and his shame hanging out for all to see.

  “I changed my mind,” I call uselessly and take off toward the door and he tries to cut me off. I know if he catches me, it’s over. I skirt around a chair throwing it behind me, then hear it crash against the wall as he muscles it out of his way. He’s only a foot away from me, reaching out to grab me when I get to the glass door and open it.

  Six security guards are running on the tile floor adding to the cacophony of the moment. I jump out between two of them and manage to break free from Blake’s reach as they accidentally push him backwards.

  “Get her!” Blake spits venomously. “
She did this!”

  They turn and see me standing there breathless and lunge in my direction. Just then a loud whooshing sound draws everyone’s attention to the office where the water has started flowing from the ceiling.

  “No. No. No no no no!” Blake stammers running back into the office. Half the men accompany him but the others are still running toward me. The sound of more footsteps running across the lobby rings out and before I can figure out which way to turn an arm reaches around my stomach and pulls me to the ground.

  “Stop!” I kick backwards trying to harm my assailant.

  “It’s me. It’s Mark,” he says in my ear loudly. He pulls me under a stairwell, embracing me as I shiver. “It’s me, it’s me, it’s me.”

  I put my head on his shoulder and he lifts a finger to his lips to instruct me to be very quiet. We watch from under the stairs as the boots of firemen and shiny black shoes of security all rush into Sandstone Ventures. The few late-night workers from other offices begin walking down the stairs; we can hear them above us. Mark motions for me to get ready and as a group walks by, we fit in the pack. I’m trying desperately to walk as if I am wearing shoes, and Mark keeps his hand on my arm as if he is guiding a blind woman down the stairs.