Puppy Girls

by Sara Tyr

  Marie inserted the flash drive and waited. The screen blanked out. DOS commands appeared and played across the monitor’s flat screen. Numbers and text danced back and forth, weaving and punching through a hundred different sequences. Once or twice, the screen paused as though the computer needed to contemplate something heavy.

  It always looked like this. Each and every time, Marie got to nervously stare at the screen as her employer’s virus and decryption codes fought through firewalls. Finally, the monitor went black.

  This was the last step.

  For those five seconds, Marie stared ahead and refused to blink. She hated this part because something could go wrong. If it did, she couldn’t do anything about it. Maybe the virus would fail and send out an automatic email to the police. In moments like this, Marie had to think about what she would tell the cops if they showed up.

  The computer came back online, and an image appeared.

  It wasn’t supposed to go like this.

  Marie gripped the sides of the chair. She tightened her knuckles until they turned white. “What the—?” she started to ask.

  The image clarified. It was Garret, her supposed boss. Her target.

  Something went wrong. Just as that thought clarified, the recorded message started to play, “Marie, I should congratulate you. You were smart, sweet, and I don’t think anyone normal would have suspected you. Men seem like they would be especially vulnerable to your brand of seduction. You’re like an erotically smart and beautiful schoolgirl. But you made a mistake.”

  Marie bit down on her lower lip. She glanced up at the door as if she expected a battalion of cops to tear down the door and cuff her right then. Since nothing happened right then, she peered back at the screen.

  The smart thing to do was simple. She should have run. She could have fled right there, but something about Garret’s recorded tone kept Marie in place. It felt as though the world rocked beneath her. She couldn’t force her legs to work or get her arms to push her up. Instead, she watched and she listened as a sense of impending dread sank down through her torso and chilled her skin.

  Garret’s message continued, “Your mistake was simple. You assumed I trusted you. You assumed I trust anyone, but I don’t. Besides, you’re far too ambitious for your line of work. Yeah, you seemed a tiny bit too articulate. You paid a tiny bit too much attention. If you were nothing but some hapless decorator, you wouldn’t have been so smart.”

  He knew. He knew she was a plant and corporate spy. Marie really did start out as an interior decorator. She had the credentials and really did view rooms with a mind to improve their colors, layout, and overall image. All at once, she flashed through the memories of her time with Garret Richardson. Where did she make a mistake? What word or action made it clear she worked for someone else?

  “Don’t worry. I won’t go to the cops, if you’re willing to obey.”

  Garret hummed to himself as the elevator sped its way back to his floor. The guard, Ted, texted him when she first appeared. Yes, Ted looked like a buffoon. It didn’t seem as though he really paid attention to his surroundings, but that façade was only one of his many skills. Considering how much money passed through those doors and those computers, they wanted the best. The complex’s tenants demanded nothing less.

  The doors opened and Garret strode down the hall. His footsteps clicked against the industrial carpet. When he got to his office’s main entrance, he touched the handle, paused, and listened.

  A door shut somewhere on the other side. That would be his girl. Garret grinned and strode back into his office. Across the room, he saw the door to his suite swing shut. The sound of the door closing nearly boomed.

  Then he waited. Garret moved over to his secretary’s desk and sat down. He crossed his legs and waited for the signal. On the other side of the door, Marie probably thought she had tricked him. She believed she got away with theft. About six months before, one of his rivals valued Garret Richardson’s strategies at nearly five hundred million dollars. So much money to predict how numbers might shift and change along his screens.

  Garret shook his head at how silly this could be. As a kid, he played video games. In most of them, he calculated damage outputs and defenses. He tried to imagine different scenarios. For every character or army he played, Garret went online and studied. He analyzed the different equations and tried to maximize his chances at success.

  Whether fighting dragons or demons or aliens, all of those games came down to numbers. So when he graduated, he took that same analytical skill and applied it to understanding companies. Where and how they made their money could mean the difference between an excellent investment and a terrible loss.

  Understanding Marie and what to do about her hadn’t been especially different. He reached into his pocket. It bulged with a rolled up strip of leather and micro circuitry. This particular device might make billions, and Garret looked forward to some experimentation.

  His phone buzzed. It was a text indicating the message had ended.

  Garret stepped forward right as Marie opened the door. He blocked her path but didn’t try to touch her. Marie stumbled back anyway as though she expected him to shoot her. Garret smirked and strode ahead. On and on, she walked backward until her tight butt hit his desk. She grabbed onto it as though she might tumble without something to hold.

  “Someone has been misbehaving,” he smiled and shook his head. This situation was reasonably new, not that he hadn’t planned for it.

  He watched her try to remember what she was supposed to say. No doubt, Marie had spun a series of elaborate lies. She must have imagined this moment a thousand times. What would she do or say when she got caught?

  Nothing came out.

  Garret circled around his desk and sat down, “Please, take a seat.” He motioned for her to the same. The direction was simple, but it had the effect of putting him in command.

  Obediently, Marie slid herself into the proffered chair. Once she didn’t have to think about standing, her brain started to sputter back to life. “Look, I know it’s a bit strange that I’m here, but there’s a good explanation.”

  “Really? Tell me all about it?” Garret was toying with her. She licked her lips, and he wondered how well she could read his body language and intonations. Did she recognize this was a game to him, one he intended to win? And if he did, she was going to be his prize.

  “I was thinking about the colors for this room. I know it’s late, but I had some excellent ideas.”

  “Such as?” Elbows braced on the mahogany desktop, he bridged his fingers and kept his eyes on her.

  She seemed to with beneath his gaze but didn’t give up. Garret could respect that. It showed tenacity on her part. Her voice cracked when she tried to speak again, so she closed her mouth, wetted her tongue, and made another attempt, “Please, Garret, I had some inspiration about the lighting in her. I thought we could change out the fixtures and repaint the walls. The lighting would complement the new colors and really open this space up.”

  Garret watched her and said, “I don’t believe you.” He her cheeks had clouded a bright pink. In fact, he wondered if she might pass out. Fighting against whatever terrors swirled through her stomach, Marie maintained eye contact with him.

  “But it’s the truth.”

  “And the flash drive?”

  “Oh,” she said at once, paused, then added, “Right?”

  “You’ve gotten yourself in a pretty big mess.” Garret leaned back in his chair. The springs didn’t squeal of squeak as he continued, “You realize, I could call the police right now. Your firm would be ruined.”

  “I didn’t do anything!”

  “You left your fingerprints on the drive. You came into my place of business unannounced and tried to steal from me. Please stop the denials. They aren’t going to work.” Garret didn’t sound especially cruel or unkind. He spoke the truth and made it clear things were about to change.

  For her part, Marie tried to clamp down on
what she did and said. The next few minutes might alter the course of her life for a long, long time. Part of her wanted to ask for a phone. She could call her employer and see what she could do. Marie tried to tell herself she still had leverage. If nothing else, she could implicate her employer and get a defense going that way. After all, Cort Enterprises had a lot of money. That money could go to a very nice lawyer.

  So most importantly, Marie couldn’t panic. She couldn’t let herself do or admit anything especially stupid.

  “It’s interesting.”

  “What’s that?” she asked, against nearly choking on her tongue. While Garret sat there, so calm and in control, it felt as though the world spun a bit faster beneath her. She might not have noticed an earthquake, not when everything was already shaking. Marie couldn’t even get her lower lip to quite settle. It kept quivering of its own accord. Irritated with her body’s reaction to stress and fear, Marie tried to center herself and manufacture the same calm and ease which Garret projected.

  “It’s interesting how your mind works. I’m fairly decent at reading people. You have to be if you’ve ever spent any time in the trading pits. Like right now, I bet you’re wondering how much help your patron will provide. After all, you got caught, but you were hired, so you could always offer to turn evidence against them, correct?”

  “Uh, yeah.”

  “It won’t work.”

  “Why not?” she demanded . “C’mon, if you did something like this, you’d have to protect the person you hired, right?”

  Garret smiled at her as though she were a student who hadn’t quite caught onto the lesson, “Not at all. I would distance myself from her. I would throw up every defense I could, cut her off and let the sharks take her.” Garret held his hand over his mouth as though he were about to share a secret, “By the way, Marie, I’m the shark.”

  “Please, there has to be something I can do.”

  “You could go to prison,” he told her. “Granted, white collar crimes such as this hardly get a lot of attention. You’d probably be in prison for five or ten years at most.”

  All of the color drained from Marie’s face. No, she couldn’t believe it. Sure, she stole some secrets, but years in prison seemed like too much. After all, she stole from rich people. It was rich people taking money from rich people. No one poor or innocent really got hurt.

  Those excuses all sounded fine in her head before she got caught. Marie bowed her head and pressed her nose between her knees. She couldn’t believe how badly she messed this up.

  “There is an alternative?”

  “What’s that?” she lifted her face and felt her makeup smudge. It was like one more insult. “What can I do?”

  “You could do a favor for me.”

  “What sort of favor?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.

  For a half second, she considered what it would mean if he asked her for some sexual favors. She imagined herself on his bed, pinned and powerless as he stripped away her clothes. He’d tear through the buttons of her blouse and yank her panties down. He would tease her slit until she was dripping wet and he could slide in to pump his cock long hard and until he came. The thought actually made her pussy dampen, not that she could let herself disappear into fantasies.

  After all, he was a handsome man. Of course, Marie noticed his fit physique, the strong line of his jaw, and the way his sparkling blue eyes seemed to pierce everything he saw. He was the kind of man who paid attention and concerned himself with the smallest details. When he did something, he did it well. Marie swallowed, very certain he would make love with a special sort of skill.

  Something tightened up in her chest. No, she was not going to sell herself to get out of trouble. She had more self-respect than that. Tightening her resolve and her fists, Marie smoothed out the wrinkles in her black pants.

  Before she could politely decline and try something else, Garret reached into his pocket and placed something on the counter. At first, she couldn’t figure out what it was. Circular and thin, it looked like a piece of fabric, perhaps a rolled up belt.

  As she put the pieces together, she saw the clasp and realized it was too short to be a belt. It was a collar. “I’m considering making a sizeable investment in a small company. It’s all run by one engineer. He’s made some big promises, and his degrees look good, but I asked to test his product anyway.”

  “A collar?”

  “It does a little more.”

  “Like what?” she asked. Part of her wanted to reach out and touch it. Something about it seemed wrong. At once, she realized what. This collar had a variety of circuits and microchips. It seemed sturdy enough, but since she couldn’t identify, she tensed up at the idea of having it on her.

  “Behavioral modification.”

  “What sort of modification?”

  “At this stage, nothing particularly extreme. Right now it’s designed to help people quit smoking. It has some other purposes as well, but those are all purely hypothetical.” His answer sounded very reasonable. “Marie, if you agree to wear this collar for one day, I’ll consider pretending tonight never happened. What do you say?”

  “Yes.”

  Marie heard those three letters come out of her mouth. She regretted them right away without knowing quite why. Something about this just felt wrong, not that she had any other choice.

  “Put it on,” he told her. He exuded an air of command and authority. Even if he couldn’t blackmail her with a threat of prison, Marie would have felt compelled to do as he said.

  She reached out and picked up the collar. It was heavier than she expected, but not unmanageably so. Marie resisted the urge to lift it and pull it around her neck. It was a collar. She couldn’t call it a choker or necklace. If she put it on, she sensed she would lose something. Some semblance of independence or self-control would disappear with this strip of leather around her neck.

  Marie’s hands shook a tiny bit. No one else would have really noticed, but Garret saw. In fact, he enjoyed her consternation. He didn’t tolerate people stealing from him. Unlike plenty of other traders and hedge fund managers, he didn’t go for the ultra macho aesthetic of beating his chest against his competitors. It seemed silly. At the same time, he wasn’t weak. He knew how to deal with people like Marie.

  In fact, he had some very good plans for her.

  “What happens if I put it on?”

  “We’ll test if it works. But don’t worry. It’s already gone through quite a few human trials. It’s completely safe,” he told her. All of those points were completely true, and yet he didn’t quite answer the question about the collar’s function.

  The cadence and timber of his voice calmed her. Marie clutched the collar a bit tighter. With each second, the weight became a little more comfortable. She wanted to believe him because the alternative meant trials and lawyers and probably prison. She didn’t wear gloves. Marie wanted to berate herself for making such a stupid mistake, but she had gotten away with so many other operations.

  “How long?”

  “I’ll be honest. It depends on the tests and the results. But I promise if anything goes wrong with it, I’ll allow you to take it off right away.”

  “Allow me?” Her question could have sounded defiant, a challenge to his power and authority. Instead, she nearly squeaked those two words. She sounded small and vulnerable.

  “I’ll have to secure the collar with a lock.”

  Marie’s eyes widened slightly. She never considered this possibility. It felt alien and impossible, and yet he didn’t smile or chuckle. It wasn’t a joke because he was absolutely certain. Despite the idea of being locked in a collar, she licked her lips and asked, “If I do this, you won’t turn me in?”

  “You have my word. I won’t turn you into the police.”

  “Okay.”

  “Then put it on. When you slide the two ends together at the nape of your neck, the clasp will interlock,” he said. Nothing about his intonation made this sound at all unusual. If Marie
didn’t know better, she might have assumed he planned this. “Once you hear the click, come over here, get on your knees, and I’ll attach the lock.”

  Marie lifted the collar and touched the side with the microchips to her neck. It was cool at first but quickly warmed. She couldn’t tell if the heat emanated from her skin or the circuitry. Either way, she tried to ignore it. Marie connected the two ends together. The claps snapped into place, and she lowered her hands.

  She had expected some sensation. There might have been a tickle of electricity or a jolt of power. But she didn’t feel anything. If she didn’t know better, Marie might have been able to pretend the collar was simply a fashion accessory.

  Marie obeyed his second order. She thought it felt strange. After all, he should have been able to get up and come around to her, but then she reminded herself that guys like Garret liked to exert their control. He wanted to remind her how she belonged to him. This favor would pay her debt, but right then, he had her.

  As she circled the desk, Marie watched him open one of his desk drawers and pull out a small padlock. Less than an inch tall, he pulled out the key. The key was connected to a silver chain which he hung around his neck. Before the key settled down against his chest, Garret slipped the padlock into the two small rings and tightened the lock. It clicked, trapping her in the collar.

  “Now get home. We can meet tomorrow to discuss the effects of the collar.”

  “Okay.” Marie got back onto her feet and rushed for the door. She did what he wanted and wished for nothing more than getting out of his office. When she got to the doorway, she froze at the sound of his voice.

  “From now on, Marie, you’ll address me as Sir. Understand?”

  Marie didn’t like the taste of her next two words, “Yes, Sir.”