Hansell and Gretty]

Sahara Kelly

Hansell and Gretty

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HANSELL AND GRETTY SARAHA KELLY MS Reader (LIT) ISBN # 1-84360-341-1 Mobipocket (PRC) ISBN # 1-84360-342-X Other available formats (no ISBNs are assigned): Adobe (PDF), Rocketbook (RB), & HTML (c) Copyright Sahara Kelly, 2003. All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave. Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc. USA Ellora's Cave Ltd, UK This e-book may not be reproduced in whole or in part by email forwarding, copying, fax, or any other mode of communication without author permission. Edited by Jennifer Martin Cover Art by Sahara Kelly

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Warning: The following material contains strong sexual content meant for mature readers. HANSELL AND GRETTY has been rated HARD R BORDERLINE NC17, erotic, by three individual reviewers. We strongly suggest storing this electronic file in a place where young readers not meant to view this ebook are unlikely to happen upon it. That said, enjoy…

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Chapter 1 Emma Hansell settled herself comfortably in her favorite recliner, spread her legs slightly and waited. She knew within moments the phone would ring and she’d hear his voice again. Her body shivered as the strident buzz sounded, right on time. “Hello.” “Good evening, My Lady.” The voice was deep and warm, like a toasty blanket on a cold night. “Has My Lady been behaving herself today?” Oh good—they were going to do the “Wicked Lord” tonight! “Yes, My Lord. I have been a very good girl today. In spite of everything.” She sighed, thinking back on what a lousy day it had been and how glad she was it was over. “Tell me, my lovely—tell me about your day? I am waiting to hear. But first, there’s something I want to know.” She tingled, and her nipples tightened in anticipation. “Are you waiting to hear me ask?” “Yes, My Lord, I await your request,” she answered. “Is your body ready for me?” “Yes, My Lord.” Oh god was it ever. “Do you have your robe on this evening?” She glanced at her ratty green cotton robe. “Yes, My Lord, the red silk one you admire so much. The one that clings to my hips and slides gently to the floor around my bare feet.” There was a slight indrawn breath on the other end of the phone—she’d have to remember the naked foot bit. “That’s good, my dear. Undo your belt and let the robe slide open—I want to imagine your white skin against the red silk as you tell me of your day.”

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She pushed the worn fabric away from her body and let the cool evening air wash over her nakedness. Only her black thong remained between her and total nudity. It was a kick! “Ready, My Lord,” she said, clearing her throat. “Tell, me, Lady Emma, was today a bad day?” “You have no idea,” she sighed. “I didn’t get the McMasterson account— Beelzebub gave it to bimbo Lucy! What is the matter with my father, Michael? Why can’t he stand up for me?” Sympathetic noises rumbled around her ear. “I told him that I could handle that account—that I was perfect for that account. It’s women’s accessories, a new line from an import dealer, and I have the training to do the work, you know that and I know that, and I bet my father does too. But do I get it? Oh nooooo.” “Easy, Emma, getting upset isn’t going to help,” soothed Michael. “I know, I know, and I don’t mean to rant, but after I found out that I was out of the running for that job, I got cornered in the cafeteria by Mr. Jerk-off Sanders. He got me up against the counter and rubbed himself all over me—even his damn crotch. It was godawful,” “Emma. Listen to me, he can’t do that. That’s sexual harassment, honey. It’s against the law. Sue his ass off!” Michael was getting really angry now. “Tell me about it. But you know what, Michael? Dear step-mama came in while this was going on. And you know what she did? Nothing. Absolutely zip, zilch, nada! She just snickered, and told us to get a room.” Michael hissed out a breath between his teeth. “She actually thought you were encouraging him? “Yeah. I guess pushing and shoving and yelling ‘get off me, you asshole’ is regarded as encouragement these days.” A loud and rude noise greeted this statement.

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“My opinion exactly. She knew damn well what was going on, but being the bitch that she is, let it go. I don’t have a legal leg to stand on—it’s his word against mine, and he’s Vice President.” She sighed. “This is wrong, babe, you know it,” said Michael. Emma could almost hear him grinding his teeth in frustration. “Michael, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to unload on you—I guess I needed to vent. This probably hasn’t helped to maintain the mood, has it?” He laughed, ruefully. “We’ll get the mood back in a minute honey. Did you tell your Dad?” “For what? So that he can say something insipid like ’well, sweetie, your mother handles personnel issues’, or ’you are doing such a good job with those banners, we can’t afford to take you away from it’. I mean he paid for college, for God’s sake, he knows I have a degree in graphic arts and a minor in business admin, why doesn’t he let me use them?” “You know why. Because of her.” “Yeah. I know. It’s no fun being hated, Michael.” “You really think she hates you?” “Oh yes. No question. From the time she walked into our house on Dad’s arm, it was all over but the screaming. I’d lost the war before I even knew there was a battle.” “Honey—let me come out there…” “No—Michael, sorry. Really. It’s OK. You know I always feel better after we talk. It’s just that today really sucked on so many levels, you know?” “I know, baby, I know.” “Make me feel better, tell me about your day?” “My day? Let me see…” There was silence for a couple of moments while Michael organized his thoughts. “It’s dark here now, of course, almost eleven at night. But the moon is so bright that I can see some of the leaves that haven’t fallen yet. I went out for a walk at lunch today, and the steps of the buildings are starting to sprout pumpkins, and the Common is

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covered with piles of leaves neatly mounded and ready for sucking up. Speaking of sucking mounds, where are your hands, My Lady?” Smiling, Emma ran her hand over her belly. “I’m just resting them on my stomach,” she said. “Move one hand lower, Em, I want to imagine you stroking your pussy as I’m telling you about my day.” She shuddered and did as she was bid. “Okay, go ahead Michael. I’m obeying your instructions.” Michael’s deep breath echoed over the phone line. “Anyway, as I was saying, I went out for a walk. The air was very cool and crisp, you know—that lovely New England air that makes you wonder why anyone would live anywhere else?” “Until the first blizzard,” giggled Emma. “Yeah, well…that’s something else again. I needed the walk because we have a new CIO coming in and I figured I’d better stir up the creative juices before she arrives…” “She?” pounced Emma. “Yeah, she. Jasmine somebody or other. Hot potato, too, if the rumors are correct. She’s coming in with her assistant and they’ve earned a reputation as top dogs in the business. Took a little local suburban company onto the Fortune 500 list in about three years, so I’m told. And I guess Enchanted Cottage Inc. thinks the infusion of new blood will stimulate the growth potential or something.” Emma sensed a little frustration in his voice. “Michael?” “Mmm?” “Undo your belt.” There was silence for a moment, then some rustling. “Okay.” “Now unbutton your pants and slide your zipper down slowly. Hold the phone near, so I can hear.”

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The distinctive sound of metal teeth rasping crept out of the phone. “Now, carefully, imagine I’m there and I’m taking your cock gently out of your shorts. Do it for me, Michael, take your cock out…”

***** Even though it was a cool fall night in Boston, Michael felt his body sizzling as he cradled the phone against his ear. One of these days he was just going to have to break down and get a cordless headset, but for now, dexterity was the key. Blessing the gods for his good fortune in living alone, Michael did as he was told, easing himself out from his boxers. He needed to go easy, too, because just hearing Emma’s voice and thinking of her lying in a tangle of red silk had made him hard as nails within seconds. He closed his eyes, trying to visualize Emma, his Emma, in the soft twilight of her California evening. Why weren’t they touching for real? How long could they go on having mutually magnificent orgasms from a distance of three thousand miles? There could be so much more between them, and he wanted it all. God, I’m greedy, he thought, knowing that what they shared was a lot more than some of his married friends ever had. But he also knew, deep inside, that those turquoise eyes had bored a tunnel into his heart and settled in for the duration. Sure, he’d had other affairs, some intense, some just quick fucks, but none had ever offered the enormous sexual release he got with Emma, and he never found himself wanting to share his life with any of them. He’d faced the fact for some time now—Emma was the one he wanted. In his life, in his bed, and in the home he intended to make some day. All he had to do was convince her of that fact. Yeah, right. He and his cock looked at each other, and both shivered with anticipation. “Okay.”

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***** “Michael, I’m going to imagine you’re touching me. Will you do the same?” Now we’re cooking, she smiled to herself. “Pretend that those fingers are my fingers. They want to brush your cock up and down, especially underneath, and circle the head with little flutter touches. Can you do that?” “If I do, will you do something for me?” “Sure.” “While I’m fluttering, I want you to pretend I’m there with you. I’m breathing on your nipples, and then I’m licking them and sucking so hard they almost hurt. Lick your finger, Emma…” He almost came as he heard the slight slurp made by her finger as she pulled it from her mouth. “Now wet your nipples—both of them—get them gleaming. It must be nearly dusk, I want to imagine them shining in that late California twilight.” “Okay…” the breathless answer came to him. “Now wet that finger again and slide it down your stomach, Emma. You know where I want you to put it, don’t you?” “Yes, Michael.” “Tell me, Emma, tell me while I’m pretending your hands are stroking me…” “You want me to touch my clit with my wet finger, Michael.” “Oh yes, babe.” “I’m doing it, Michael. It feels so good—but it would be better if it was your finger.” She slid her hand between the elastic of her thong and her warm flesh, sliding through the tidy mound of curls that protected her swelling clit. She could smell her own arousal in the air around her, and she gasped as her hand pulled the thong tighter between her buttocks. “Oh, babe.”

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She heard the slight rustle of clothing against the phone as his shoulders moved in time with his strokes. “Do you have any lights on, Michael?” she asked. “Just one,” “Can you see yourself?” “Yeah,” he moaned. “Describe it, Michael, tell me what your cock looks like…” “It’s…it’s hard.” A snicker met this comment. “Well, duh,” she grinned. “And—and it’s getting a very dark red,” his voice was also getting dark red—if the strain in it was anything to go by. “Michael, I’m touching my clit right now. It’s wet and aching for you, wishing it was your hand or better still, your mouth and your tongue suckling and swiping over it, and making me so very hot…” Emma’s hand moved rhythmically beneath the thin fabric of her thong and over her clit as her legs spread even wider. She propped the phone between her ear and the chair and ran her other hand across her breasts. “And my breasts are aching—the nipples are so hard. They’re longing for your tongue, too…” She gasped as she pulled and twisted her nipple, sending a dart of electricity to her clit. “Oh God, Emma,” muttered Michael, hand clenching on his cock and stroking up and down with intense power. “I think…Michael…tell me when, I can’t wait too much longer,” moaned Emma. “Emma, oh God, Emma…just…let me…I’m coming, Emma—NOW!” With his final yell, Emma let her orgasm take her, clenching her thighs and grinding her hand into her clit to milk every last spasm out of it. The phone lines were quiet for a few seconds. “Oh my Lord. What I wouldn’t give for a cigarette.” “Michael! You don’t smoke.”

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“Yeah, I know, but it just seemed like a great idea. After sex like that, a can of diet soda just doesn’t seem to cut it, you know?” She dropped her head back onto the chair and laughed out loud. “God, you’re a miracle, Michael Gretty. Thank you.” “For what? Phone sex? I completely lost track of the ‘Wicked Lord’ bit.” “Nah. For being there. For calling me three times a week for the last, what, two years is it now? For listening, for encouraging, and yeah, for great phone sex, although I still don’t quite know how we got into that in the first place.” “Oh I do. As soon as we started our calls, I knew your voice would do it. I got hard every single time. I get hard now just knowing we’re gonna be talking in a few hours. Board meetings in the afternoon have been turning into torture sessions. I have to go out and buy either really tight pants that’ll hold everything together, or get some very long jackets custom made.” “Yeah, I know the feeling. Sometimes I’ll get a call from someone who sounds a little like you, and I’ll find I’m creaming my panties just thinking about you. Why the hell haven’t we gotten together?” “I don’t know. I keep telling you I’ll come out, or you can fly over here, but you keep saying ’no, it’ll spoil it’!” “Well, it’s been, what, ten years since we last saw each other?” “Yeah, the family gathering, Florida, ten years ago next April. You were, what, fifteen?” “Sixteen, thank you very much. Just developing breasts, covered with zits, and prouder than hell of my torn jeans.” She laughed, remembering. “Oh yeah, I remember those breasts. They haunted me, you know. Firm, with those wonderful nipples that showed when I soaked you with the hose!” “Yeah—that’s right, you did, you jerk.” “Hey. I’m not stupid. I was nineteen and I knew if I wanted to see your breasts the best way to do it was to wet ‘em down!” “You know, you could have just asked,” she said quietly.

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Michael was silent for a second. “You’d have shown me your breasts?” A chuckle came back at him. “Michael, you were a god to me back then. Mom had died, Dad was as miserable as they come, and hadn’t a clue what to do with a teenage girl who was a total mess of hormones and grief. You walked in with those tight jeans and that ponytail, and I was lost. I’d have stripped buck naked if you’d asked!” “Damn, if only I’d known.” “But it was a family thing…” “Yeah, but we’re not family, are we?” “Sometimes it feels like it, when you listen to me yell and vent, and other times…” She cleared her throat. “Other times, I have no trouble remembering that you are no blood relation at all. Being my aunt’s second husband’s stepson pretty much negates that, doesn’t it?” “Yep.” Emma could hear the grin in his voice. “Michael?” “Mmm hmm?” “What would you say if I told you I was seriously thinking of taking you up on your offer?” “Which one is that, hon?” “To give California and Dad’s company the boot. To get on a plane and fly to Boston. To see you.” Michael sat up in his chair with a thump. “I’d say give me your flight number and don’t bother to pack underwear.” Emma burst out laughing, echoed by Michael on the other end. Her life had just taken a turn for the better.

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Chapter 2 “Are you wearing underwear?” “No.” “Thank God.” Michael’s arms enfolded her tightly, and his hands slid down to squeeze her buttocks through the thin silk of her robe. She was glad she’d bought the red one before she’d left California—she knew he’d love it. It was one of the reasons she had insisted they meet in the hotel rather than at the airport. Red silk and no underwear were a poor choice for Boston in the fall. His lips met hers and parted wide, tongue thrusting and touching and learning her, as if he could make up for years of phone calls with just one kiss. He ground his crotch into her and she felt his cock, hard and hot and ready. “Don’t you think we should at least close the door?” she asked, leaning back to catch her breath. Michael was panting as he held her at arms’ length, and she saw his eyes re-focus as her words sank through to his consciousness. He lifted his leg and flicked the door shut behind them without even looking. “Smooth,” she grinned. “I can’t believe you’re here. I can’t believe I’m holding you. I can’t believe these are your breasts…” He reverently slipped the knot of her robe free and moved his hand up to cup her full breast. “Lovely. Wonderful. I never could have imagined them looking so—so amazing…” His head bent and his mouth fastened to her nipple, his tongue doing incredible things. She felt herself melting, dripping, her labia swelling in readiness for him. “Where’s the bed?” She snorted. “Michael, this is a hotel room. Take two steps forward and you’ll find it!”

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He laughed painfully. “Yeah, sorry. I’m just blown away. You’re here, you’re in my arms, and I want to be in you so bad I’m gonna die if it doesn’t happen in the next two minutes…” “Well, we can’t have that,” smiled Emma. She pulled his jacket down over his elbows and slid her hands up under his sweater. “You’ve got too many clothes on,” she muttered. “It’s autumn in New England, babe. I need them outside. But not in here…” He ripped the sweater over his head as Emma started on his buttons. Giving up in frustration she let her hands drift lower, working the button on his pants as he toed out of his sneakers. He groaned as she freed his fly and eagerly plunged her hands inside his trousers. “Michael Gretty,” she gasped. “You’re not wearing any underwear either!” “Tell me about it. My butt damn near froze on the way over here,” he mumbled, shaking free of his shirt. His pants fell to the floor at the same moment Emma’s robe dropped from her shoulders. There was a moment of silence as they both felt the heat radiating between them. Then Michael took a step forward. Their skin touched—body to body, from breast to thigh. Emma swayed slightly, rubbing her nipples across the broad expanse of male flesh, and Michael felt his cock throbbing painfully as it swept her soft belly. Neither spoke for an instant of time, each relishing this long-awaited contact between them. Then Emma moved, bending down to the floor. “What…?” said Michael. “Your socks. I refuse to make love with you for the first time with you wearing socks.” She tapped his leg and he automatically raised his foot to free the offending item.

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She was now at eye level with his cock. His cock was very aware of this fact. So was Emma. Smiling slightly, she ran a hand up the inside of Michael’s thigh. “You’re so beautiful, Michael,” she breathed. That breath wafted across his cock, which showed its appreciation by producing a drop of moisture, just for her. She followed her instincts, and leaning forward, kissed the head and licked the little slit carefully, tasting his juice and him on the back of her tongue. He was sweet, salty, and musky—he was Michael. He sighed, and ran his fingers through her tumble of curls. Life was good. Her tongue found his sweet spot, just beneath his head, and his fingers reflexively tightened in her hair. Gently, he pulled her away. “I won’t make it if you keep that up—and I want to be inside you for the first time. Come here.” He raised her up his body, deliberating raking her with his cock and making them both tremble. It was the matter of a simple movement to bring them both to the bed and a single tip to land them in a tangle of limbs on its soft sheets. His hands were all over her, and she couldn’t get enough of the feel of him. She ran her palms over his back, appreciating the smooth skin stretched taut over the muscles beneath. He stroked her from toe to temple, touching the silk of her thighs, nibbling the undersides of her breasts, and finally running his fingers through her soaking curls. Her hands found his buttocks and learned them intimately, firm and round. They begged to be squeezed and pulled, and separated—he gasped as her finger slicked down his cleft and over his tightly puckered anus. “God, Emma, you’re burning me…” he moaned, as her hands found his cock again. He pulled back slightly, grabbing the foil packet from the pocket of his crumpled pants.

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“Michael—please. I need you inside me. God, I’m so ready. I’ve never been this ready.” She wriggled beneath him, spreading her thighs wider, just in case Michael missed the point. Moments later she knew he hadn’t missed the point and his thrust showed he hadn’t missed the target either. There—he was inside her. Oh god, Michael Gretty was inside her. I’m inside her, thought Michael, shivering with arousal. My god, I’m inside Emma Hansell. Their eyes met as they gazed at each other, unwilling to miss a second of this special occasion. “Michael—you’re so deep inside me…” breathed Emma. “Emma,” he hissed through clenched teeth. “I never realized how hot a woman’s cunt could be. It’s like I’ve stuck my cock into liquid fire…” His blunt words cranked up Emma’s arousal by at least a factor of ten, and she made a little sound of distress as he backed out slightly. “Don’t worry, babe, I’m not going anywhere,” he muttered, plunging back into her welcoming heat. Spreading her legs as far as they would go, she urged him deeper, finally locking her ankles behind him and pulling him tight to her clit. She wriggled and gasped at the wonderful sensation as her clit rubbed against his body. Michael knew he had to move or his balls were gonna explode and the rest of his body would be right behind. “It’s going to be quick this time, Emma, I can’t wait…” he gasped. “Me neither, oh god, Michael, pleeeeeeese…” she begged. Within seconds, Michael felt the familiar throb at the base of his spine, and Emma’s muscles were starting to clench his cock in increasingly strong spasms. He knew he couldn’t hold it. She knew she was seconds away.

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She screamed out his name as she clung to his cock and he slid his fingers between them to add pressure to her clit. Her spasms rocked his world and he felt himself come, pumping his heart into her willing body, matching her clenches with his spurts. It seemed to go on forever, but finally, drained and weak they collapsed around each other, breathing heavily and unable to move.

***** “Wow,” said Emma, thinking that the language police should ticket her for understatement. “Yeah,” moaned Michael, helplessly sprawled half on her and half on the bed. “Why did we wait?” “We? What’s this ’we’? I was ready to fly to the West Coast and fuck your brains out any number of times, if you remember,” said Michael, dragging breath back into his lungs. “Well, I’m here now,” she soothed, running limp fingers through the sweaty hair at the back of his neck. “God that was fantastic. You’re fantastic. By the way, did I tell you I think you’re really handsome, too?” Michael turned his head towards her with a grin. “Right back at ya, sweetheart,” he smiled. Emma gazed at the whiskey-brown eyes shining at her from under dark brows, the hint of a five-o’clock shadow, and the wonderful mass of silky curls that she’d envied at sixteen and lusted after now. Tall and solid, Michael topped six feet, she knew, most of it was muscle, and all of it was in the right places. She wondered if purring was an acceptable post-orgasmic behavior. For his part, Michael was happy to watch her. Her dark hair was tangled now, where his hands had clutched great bunches of it. Her breasts and the rest of the skin on her body flushed under his gaze, a pink tinge flooding the unusually creamy texture

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and pale shade that was Emma. Her mound shone with moisture, both her juices and his cum, mixing into an intoxicating cocktail of scents that permeated the air. He gently stroked her, bringing a moan of contentment to her throat. “So, you gonna take the job with Enchanted Cottage, Inc.?” “I guess so, if you don’t mind, Michael,” she answered, stretching. “Mind? Why the hell would I mind? As long as I can keep my hands off you during the working day, we’ll be just fine. And you’ll be in the GA department anyway, not related to my group insofar as the management structure goes. Our being involved won’t violate anyone’s ethics.” “I’m flattered that Mr. Clifford offered me the job sight unseen,” she said. “Honey, one look at your work, your qualifications, and your portfolio, and he was sold. It’s just a really great coincidence that Margaret got pregnant and decided to leave. Now we have one of the best graphic artists around, and I intend to grab her as soon as possible.” His hand slid to her breast as he spoke. “Consider yourself grabbed.” He grinned at her. “But seriously, I have a new project I’m developing, and I need some CG to really make it sing. If it works, it’ll put Enchanted Cottage on the IT map as a leader in graphics techniques—would you be interested in helping me with the development?” “Would I?” she answered. “I can’t wait!” “Neither can I,” he whispered, moving over her once more. He swept his hands over her breasts and down her sides, moving lower and lower until his shoulders nestled comfortably between her legs. He gently ran his tongue through their juices, tasting them both and spreading them liberally over her swollen tissue. “Sore, honey?” he asked, rimming her pink lips gingerly with his tongue. “A bit, but not too much,” she answered, with a hopeful grin. “Oh good,” he said.

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For the next half hour, Emma was treated to a tongue-bath. Michael licked his way around Emma like she was the last ice cream cone on Earth! Her skin grew rosy, her nipples drew themselves up and screamed for the touch of his mouth, and her pussy soaked his hands as he stroked her. “Oooh, Michael,” she moaned, writhing beneath him. “This is so much better than the phone.” He snorted, an effective move since his nose was buried in her clit at the time. She jumped. He laughed, and thrust his tongue as far inside her as it would go. She choked. He lapped and flickered, matching his moves to the twitches of his thumb around her super-sensitive clit. “Michael,” she gasped. “I’m gonna come—I can’t stop it…” “Then come, sweetheart,” said Michael pulling away briefly. “This one’s for you…” He returned to tormenting her body, squeezing her buttocks with one hand as his thumb worked her delicate flesh and his tongue plunged into her silken darkness. She climbed higher and higher, until she could hold no more. With a groan her body convulsed, her inner muscles grabbing onto Michael’s tongue, and her whole lower body rhythmically shaking. Michael pressed in further, milking every single sensation out of her climax. He was hard, happy and ready to lose himself in this woman for about a year or two. Finally, she came down to earth, and he eased up the bed to lie beside her. “Hello.” “Hi.” “Good flight?” “The best,” she grinned. “The landing was sensational.” “And how was the in-flight service?” “Couldn’t ask for better. Took care of my every need.” Michael smirked.

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“Can I ask a favor?” she said, rising up on one elbow. “Go ahead, your flight attendant is ready to assist you,” he chuckled. “Lie down, please,” she pushed him flat on his back. “I want to fulfill a fantasy—the one where we’re talking on the phone to each other and I ask you what you’re seeing. What your cock looks like as you stroke yourself.” Michael struggled to keep the breath in his lungs. “Sure, babe, go ahead,” he croaked. Which was quite restrained, seeing as another part of him was urging him to punch a fist in the air and yodel “Yesssss!”. Emma took him into her hands. She was fascinated by the smooth feel of him as he grew within her grasp. Slick as the finest velvet, yet firm as rock underneath, his cock was a study in contrasts. She played with the little ridge beneath the head, and brought a hiss to his lips as she stroked the underside. Grinning she moved down a bit and ran her tongue over that same tender spot. Michael bit back a groan. She kissed and licked her way around his cock, noting that his hands were now twisted in the sheets at his side and his breathing was becoming quite irregular. She chuckled and hummed to herself, sending little vibrations tantalizingly through his cock. He gasped some more. She found his balls, and played with them for a while, all the time rubbing something, her cheek, her hair, her lips and tongue, over his cock. He was now fidgeting, buttocks thrusting up towards her. She licked around his sac and caressed the shadowed places behind it with gentle fingers. “Do you like that, Michael?” she breathed, her words making drafts over his wet cock. “Mmnshimmmshmmm…” Judging from the unintelligible comment that the answer was yes, Emma continued.

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His thigh muscles tightened beneath her hands as she brought her tongue back to his cock, dark purple-red now, and swollen. It was leaking a drop of pre-cum, and she knew he was very near. “I want to watch you come, Michael,” she whispered. “I want to see it, to make up for all those times you were alone on the phone with me when it happened.” She grasped the base of his cock firmly, and, seeming to understand his needs, began a full stroke from base to tip, circling the head and pulling the skin slightly as she did so. “You’re gonna get your wish,” he hissed between clenched teeth. “Oh good,” she grinned. His cock was plunging in her hands now and his buttocks were pushing higher and higher. She heard his teeth snap together and felt his body begin to tremble. Moving back slightly she held him firmly and watched as the pulses started deep within his body and ran through his cock, ending in the amazing spurts from the tip that covered her hands in his warm cum. It went on for a surprisingly long time. “Oh my,” she whispered, awed at his power. “That was incredible.” She raised one hand to her face and licked her fingers. “Mmmm. Sauce Michèl, piquante, but with a hint of spicy male overtones.” Michael knew he’d just died and gone to heaven, and it was so much better than he could ever have imagined. He grinned.

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Chapter 3 “Good morning, Ms Hansell.” “Hello, Janine.” Emma smiled at the staff assistant, already busily clicking her way through the day’s workload, even though it wasn’t yet nine o’clock. “Anything exciting happening today?” “Well, there’s a memo to all the CG staff that the development meeting is on for today at 11:00, and Mr. Gretty called down earlier to ask that you be there. I guess he’s planning on presenting his top secret thingy to Ms Wietsch?” Emma smiled, thinking of another, slightly different, ‘top secret thingy’. And, oh my, he sure knew what to do with it. Their early morning lovemaking was turning into a romp, and they’d had to set the alarm clock forty-five minutes earlier to allow for their particularly personal wake-up call. She grinned. “Wow, that’s one majorly shit-eating grin, Emma,” snickered Janine. “You must have gotten out of the right side of the guy this morning…” Emma blushed slightly. Only Janine knew that Emma was living with Michael. She’d needed a phone number for emergencies. As far as the rest of the company was concerned, Emma had a post-office box and a cell phone number. She had made it very clear that she valued her privacy. Janine had turned out to be a trustworthy and efficient right hand woman, and Emma found herself liking Janine. A lot. She’d had few women friends in the past, and she was enjoying the novelty of the experience. “Well, Janine, you know what they say…” “No, what do they say?” “Er—I don’t know. I was hoping you did.” Janine laughed. “Probably something like ‘early to bed gets it up early in the morning’!” “Works for me,” grinned Emma.

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“So I get to meet Ms Wietsch today. That’ll be interesting.” “I’m sure it will,” said Janine dryly. “Why Janine, anyone would think you don’t like her,” whispered Emma, bending over the desk with a sly grin. “Who me? Not like Ms Wietsch-rhymes-with-bitch?” “Now you’re just basing that on the physicality thing. Just because she’s a knockout doesn’t mean she’s rotten to the core.” Emma thumbed through some interoffice brochures as she spoke, resting one hip on Janine’s desk. “Oh she’s a knockout, alright. And she’s blonde, too. And tall. And she sheds pheromones like a cat sheds fur! If we were animated characters, you’d be walking on guys’ tongues as she passed.” “Mrrreeeoooow,” chuckled Emma. “Hmm. We’ll see what song you’re singing a few hours from now. Remember, she likes new meat. You’ve got some. Better get a firm grip on it.” Emma put down the papers and stole a sip of Janine’s Donut Shoppe coffee. “Gak. How much coffee did you add to your sugar this morning?” “Stop stealing it then. You know I like it sweet. Oh, and you’ll get to meet Ms Wietsch’s assistant too. Now that’s one fine piece of man. Makes a girl want to rush out to the fetish store and stock up on handcuffs. Mmm!” Emma burst out laughing. Janine was happily married with a son in his first year of college. The thought of her getting medieval on some cutie-pie’s ass was very out-of-character, but then again, mused Emma, one never knew… “OK, I’m off. I’ll be lurking in my cubby for a couple of hours finishing a few things, then on to the meeting. I’ll give you a full report.” She grinned, waved a couple of fingers at Janine and headed to the elevators.

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Her mind already focusing on her work, a difficult conceptualization of Michael’s data storage project, she didn’t realize that she wasn’t alone on the elevator until she reached for the button and pushed another hand instead. “Going down?” asked a man’s voice. She turned, suddenly aware that her hairs were standing up all over her body. His words were soft and low, and the sound of his voice promised all kinds of wicked things. His scent surrounded her, adding to his appeal. Tangy and fresh, it was like a night next to the ocean. She looked up and met his interested gaze. “Hello.” “Um—hi. Sorry, my mind was miles away. Yes, floor 3, please.” “I’m Max Wolfe. I don’t believe we’ve met?” Emma felt her lips curving into a smile. She couldn’t help it, it was like standing in front of a Greek god! “A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Wolfe. I’m Emma Hansell, and I haven’t been with Enchanted Cottage too long. There are still some people I haven’t met yet.” Max extended his hand, and Emma took it. His skin was warm and dry, and she could have sworn she felt an electric tingle where they touched. He smiled. It didn’t help, because she was quite sure her underwear was about to melt. The elevator pinged, and Emma realized it was her floor. She tugged at her hand, amazed to find Max was still holding it. “Uh—Mr. Wolfe, this is my floor.” “Please, call me Max,” he answered, finally releasing her hand and letting it slide over his fingers. She flashed him a brief acknowledging smile and fled, leaving him standing by the sliding doors with a quirked eyebrow and an arrested look in his eyes.

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Dashing into her office, she grabbed the phone and dialed her own private oneeight-hundred-knows-everything person. She didn’t need a psychic or tabloid magazines. She had Janine! “Okay—give me the dirt. Who the hell is Max Wolfe?” A chuckle sounded on the other end of the phone. “Oh ho, you met Mr. Wonderful, did you?” “God, I’m still shivering. Why didn’t you warn me about him?” “I tried. He’s Ms. Wietsch’s assistant. Yummy, huh? Did you get the handcuffs flash?” “Actually I got more of a bare-chested pirate clasping me to his firm body and ravaging my lips kind of thing,” admitted Emma with a giggle. “Oh yeah, that works too,” Janine sighed. “Well, thanks for the information. I’d better rein in those frantic hormones and get some work done here. Bye Janine.” She hung up the phone before Janine could tell her Max Wolfe’s marital status, preference in coffees, or answer the briefs vs. boxers dilemma. Emma had no doubt, however, that Janine probably knew all three. With a giggle, Emma turned to her monitors and woke them up, watching absently as an assortment of graphics filled the three screens mounted on the wall behind her desk. What was it about Max Wolfe that had rattled her sex chain? He was tall, very good-looking, and very masculine, but so was Michael. And Michael was wonderful. Michael was everything she’d ever wanted, good in bed, funny, caring, bright, and he cared for her. So what’s with this ‘Wolfe effect’? The palms that were sweaty, the flushed cheeks, anybody would think she’d never seen a god before. Closing her eyes, she leaned her chin on her hand. It was his eyes, she decided. Neither green nor brown, they changed color as you looked at them. His hair was the lightest brown, streaked with silver white highlights, as if he’d spent years standing

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nearly naked on a California surfboard. He had a slight tan, but nothing to indicate he’d been to the Caribbean recently, more like the slightly faded tan of someone who’d spent a lot of time outside that summer. When he’d smiled, his even white teeth had lured her, singing a siren’s song of passionate nips and nibbles, and his touch had been as caressing as his voice. The man was a certified sex machine, that much was definite. Not so clear was why she was responding to him. Sighing, she pulled her chair close to her desk and turned her attention to her screens. Thinking about sexy men with strange eyes would have to take second place to work. For now.

***** Max Wolfe shuddered silently as he came. He held one hand over the mouth of the girl he was fucking—who probably couldn’t even spell the word discretion, let alone practice it—while the other was behind her pushing her pussy harder into his crotch. She squawked beneath his palm and her hands dug into his biceps as she came, clamping round his cock in strong spasms. She threw her arm up over her head, and only Max’s lightning-quick reflexes saved them both from being bombed by business envelopes. So much for fucking in a supply closet. He pulled out of her and twisted the condom off himself with a practiced touch. A quick crumple of two sheets of thin copy paper and the evidence was completely concealed, tossed tidily into the trash with the empty paper clip boxes and the plastic wrap from the ballpoint pens. Tucking in his shirt and refastening his pants, he dropped a casual peck on the nose of the copy clerk who was still sitting in post-orgasmic shock on the copy machine. Her skirt was around her waist, her lipstick smeared, one large breast drooped over her bra,

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and her panties hung off one foot. She looked the picture of decadence, and already Max was wondering why he’d ever bothered to fuck her in the first place. “Thanks, sweetie,” he said, feeling rather guilty that he hadn’t enjoyed her more. “You’re a peach of a fuck. We’ll do it again sometime.” The copy clerk blinked. He left the room. It was almost eleven, so Max wandered towards the conference room down discreetly carpeted hallways. This part of the building always smelt of power to him. He inhaled, enjoying the fragrance. “Yes, I smell her too.” The voice from behind made him jump. There was only one person who could sneak up on him like that. “Smell who, Jasmine?” “That little bitch from the office pool. She wears Opium, and too much of it. Did you enjoy her?” Max smiled, wisely saying nothing. “You’re such a cat, darling,” said the woman, stroking her nails down his cheek and not quite leaving a mark. “See you in a few minutes. I have to pick up some paperwork.”

***** Max walked on to the conference room, and Jasmine returned to her office. She picked up the phone and hit the Human Resources Department button. “Mr. Drayton, please, this is Jasmine Wietsch…yes, I’ll hold.” Blood red fingernails drummed a syncopated rhythm on the glossy desktop. “Mr. Drayton, good of you to spare me a moment,” she paused, listening. “Oh, you charmer, you! Mrs. Drayton is one lucky lady.” She grimaced at herself. “I hate to bother you with something so trivial, but I have a little problem you might be able to help me with…yes, that’s why I called on you, Mr. Drayton…it’s about

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that youngster in the copy room, her name is Marie-something-or-other? I think she may be—um, how can I put this? I think she’s taking some of our stock for herself…yes…I know…well, I saw her leaving the building with a box of those very expensive pens we bought for our guests…and now it’s gone…” There was a pause in the conversation. Jasmine examined her manicure. “Oh, do you think that’s appropriate?…Isn’t termination rather severe?…Well, yes I know it’s company policy…Well…Whatever you think is best, Mr. Drayton. I know I can rely on your experience to do the right thing…of course…any time. Please give my best to Mrs. Drayton, I’m glad she liked the flowers. Bye-bye, and thanks…” she hung up the phone. “…You stupid old fart.” Gathering two manila folders under one arm she stood and looked down, carefully prodding a large box labeled “Custom Writing Instruments” further under the storage cabinet with her pointed shoe. Preparation was everything. Smiling, she left for her meeting.

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Chapter 4 “And this is how the entire package will interact with our customer’s platforms,” concluded Michael smoothly, clicking his remote mouse and activating Emma’s carefully created graphic showing assorted data flying through an imagined galaxy down to an enchanted cottage and in through a window to a high-tech world of hardware. Polite applause greeted his speech, followed by murmurs and comments from his audience. Emma smiled happily from her seat off to one side of the room. She was there by virtue of her position as sole CG artist on this project, and fortunately, was not expected to contribute much of anything to the actual presentation. But she couldn’t have been happier for Michael. Charles Clifford, the Chairman of the Board, was clapping Michael on the shoulder as he shook his hand. Several other board members were smiling and nodding, and even Ms. Wietsch was looking approvingly at the data on the screen. Ah yes, the dynamic Ms Wietsch-rhymes-with-bitch! Emma had been stunned when the woman walked into the room. Every movement had screamed “elegance”, from the top of her smoothly twisted blonde hair, past the perfect features with just a light touch of makeup to bring out the blue of her eyes, past the very expensive navy jacket paired with a soft silk wrap blouse, over the slim raw silk skirt in navy with a subtle design, down the mile-long legs to the Ferragamo pumps, this was one perfect woman. To judge by the number of rather uncomfortable fidgetings, her movements also screamed “get your hot sex right here!” to most of the men there. She’d been charming to Emma, greeting her by name and complimenting her on her accomplishments. Emma appreciated that. Some women would have said “nice shoes”, and meant it, but Ms Wietsch knew better.

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Max Wolfe had hovered nearby. Emma felt his presence but he just quirked a friendly brow in her direction and nodded when their eyes met. Emma sighed. It had been a long morning, and she was looking forward to leaving early. She and Michael had promised each other a long, no-holds-barred weekend in bed, with only one possible interruption—the NASCAR race from Phoenix, if Michael could find the right TV station. They’d both revealed that they loved the sport. Talk about compatibility. Michael was coming over to her—perhaps now they could finish up here. “Thanks, Emma. All your work really paid off. Did you see their faces when the graphics came up?” Emma smiled back. “Sure did. They really liked it, didn’t they?” Before Michael could answer, a hand fell on his shoulder and Max Wolfe was there. “Very nice job, Michael. Congratulations. A smooth presentation and a dynamic new product. This is really going to put Enchanted Cottage into the game with the big boys.” He patted Michael’s shoulder with a grin. “Jasmine is thrilled, and believe me, she’s not easily impressed.” “He’s quite right,” said a cool voice. “It is good, isn’t it?” said Emma with a smile. “Oh—definitely,” cooed Jasmine, her eyes raking Michael from head to toe. “It occurs to me that I have many questions that should be answered before I start the marketing ball rolling and work up a stockholders presentation. This might be the leverage we need to go public, you never know.” “Really?” asked Michael, surprised at her intensity. “You bet. Oh—I’ve just had the most marvelous idea!” She smiled at both Emma and Michael, her gorgeous eyes sparkling. “You two must spend this weekend on the Cape at my house—Max will be there. I’m planning on making it a true working weekend. That way we can get a lot of the

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groundwork accomplished and I can pick your brains, Michael! Emma, perhaps you can give us some input on the graphics end of the project…” Red nails rested on Michael’s sleeve, and Emma shivered. “Well, I…” “Oh, I’m sorry—did you have plans?” Michael and Emma flashed each other a quick glance as they shared a single thought. Doomed! “Not at all, Jasmine. You’re very kind to extend the invitation.” “I’ll leave my address with your secretary then, and we’ll see you around noon, shall we say?” “That would be fine, thanks,” answered Michael. “Oh, Emma, bring a swimsuit—I have a lovely indoor pool. So refreshing. You’ll love it.” Emma smiled politely, watching Max and Jasmine leave. “Put your teeth away, sweetheart,” grinned Michael. “Tell that to your cock,” she snapped back. “Ouch. That was harsh,” he answered, looking hurt. Emma closed her eyes. “God, I’m sorry, Michael, I didn’t mean to snap at you. She really pushes my buttons though. Perfection, intelligence, and blonde hair. Lethal combination.” “But I bet she doesn’t scream like a banshee when she comes,” whispered Michael into her ear.

***** “She gives me the creeps, Michael,” Emma said, gazing out the window at the highway flying past. “Why? She seems nice enough.” “It’s nothing she’s done, it’s more like a nails-on-chalkboard sort of thing. And maybe the way she looks at you…”

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“Me? How does she look at me?” said Michael, glancing at Emma with raised eyebrows. “Like you’re her favorite pizza and she’s just come off a two year diet!” said Emma bluntly. “Oh please, Emma. Get real, babe.” Emma snorted. “A girl can tell these things, Michael.” “She’s a mega-rich dame with more power in her little finger than I’ll ever have in my life. What would she be looking at me like that for? If she does at all, which I’m not saying she does. If you get what I mean…” he mumbled. “You’re flattered, aren’t you, you jerk!” Emma punched him lightly in the shoulder. “Am not!” he answered, offended. “Are too!” she countered. He burst out laughing. “Well, okay, maybe a little. After all, it’s not every day somebody like Jasmine gives me the once over—and I’m only taking your word for it that she did, mind you…” Emma settled back in her seat grinning, having made her point. At the back of her mind was a little voice telling her that this was probably not a good point to have scored. She told the little voice to shut up and stop bothering her. Their drive to Cape Cod had been uneventful, given that it was a Saturday in November. What would take many hours in July took a little over 90 minutes at this time of year, and they would be bowling through the pines and quaint towns before they knew it. “Now, Wolfe, is another matter,” said Michael in a firm tone. “Max? He seems sweet,” she answered innocently. “Yeah, sweet like a marauding Viking!” “Oooh – am I going to get raped, pillaged, and plundered this weekend?” she asked naughtily, running her hand up the inside seam of Michael’s jeans. “Maybe, but not by Max Wolfe,” grinned Michael, fighting to keep his attention on the road, and not grab her hand and jam it up against his erection.

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“We are going to have to be careful, though, Michael. There’s so much riding on this project of yours, not just for you, and me, but for the whole Enchanted Cottage Company,” added Emma thoughtfully, hand resting on Michael’s thigh. He couldn’t decide whether to be glad or sad she’d stopped her upward progress. His cock was complaining, but his brain was urging him to think safety not satiety. “Yeah, I know. It could put us in a difficult position. I can’t reveal too much of my project, even to Jasmine and Max. That’s not how I work. And I know they can get us both fired at the drop of a hat. So we’ll play it cool, honey, if that’s okay with you, and see what happens.” “Sounds good to me, Michael. How much longer, do you think?” He checked the road sign they were passing. “Well, twenty miles to the Sagamore Bridge—so that means about another half hour or so, providing I don’t get lost after hitting Route 6.” Emma’s hand resumed its movement on his thigh. “Umm—Michael?” “Yeah, honey?” “Would it be so bad if we didn’t get there until a little later?” Michael risked a glance at Emma. Her eyes were shining, her tongue just peeking out from between her lips and she looked horny as hell. He looked back at the road, trying to recover the brain cells she’d just seriously damaged. “I don’t think that will be a problem, babe.” He grinned, mind working furiously. “Where are we?” He glanced at the road signs speeding past, and made a sudden decision. He hit his signal, and exited the highway. Emma smiled, and continued her arousing finger dance up the seam of his jeans. “Em, if you keep doing that I’m going to have to get my cock a driver’s license because it’ll be on the steering wheel any minute now,” warned Michael as she started

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to undo his zipper. “And God only knows what the insurance rates are for cocks,” he croaked. Her hand slid inside his pants. Taking a corner about ten miles an hour faster than he should have, Michael arrived at his destination with a squeal of brakes and a cloud of dust. They were in a deserted parking lot—thank God for the off-season. In July, this would have been full of tourists. Michael headed for the corner screened by scrubby pines, and turned off the engine. The ocean tumbled onto a deserted shore beneath them at the base of the cliffs. The gray water was whipped into white caps froth by a chilly on-shore breeze, and the beach was deserted. “Now, Emma…there was something you wanted?” he asked, moving his seat back and scrabbling at the fastening of his seat belt. Emma was two steps ahead of him. Her jeans were a pile of fabric on the floor of the passenger well, and her seat was back as far as it would go. She slid onto Michael’s lap and he felt her wetness pressing hotly against him. She had his cock free in less than ten seconds, and one second after that she was pushing her thong aside and her soaking hot channel down onto him. “Oh yeah, Michael. This is what I wanted!” She hissed, feeling his cock throb as it filled that empty void within her. Always the gentleman, he was happy to oblige.

***** “They’ll be here in about thirty minutes, Jasmine…” “So?” The weight machine creaked in response to the enthusiastic workout taking place on its padded bench. “Jesus, Jasmine, my arms are breaking here. Hurry up, will you?” growled Max.

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Seeing as his arms were tied to the butterfly grips as he spoke, Jasmine figured he probably wasn’t kidding. She suckled his tiny nipple energetically, bringing tears to his eyes as she used her teeth to great effect. His cock was soundly embedded inside her and she was having a great time. She widened her stance, spreading her thighs as far as she could. Max’s shorts held his knees close, hobbling him, and she had pretty much free access to all that lovely cock. Sliding up and down she licked her lips as she saw his strained expression. “I like fucking you like this, Max. You’re at my mercy. I can do whatever I want to you.” She rose up and almost off him, making him groan. “Christ, woman, I’m ready to come, with or without you,” he snarled, using his strong abdominal muscles to thrust against her wet pussy. She moaned. “Alright, alright…” She held her fingers to his mouth, pushing them between his lips. He sucked them fiercely. Withdrawing them, she slid them down over her breast to her clit, and rubbed, timing her movements with the slide of his cock in and out of her body. Within seconds she was coming, teeth clenched, neck muscles cording and in complete silence. Max, on the other hand, whose cock was being rhythmically squeezed into nirvana by Jasmine’s incredible muscles, yelled out his orgasm, pumping his hips as he came. “Jeez, those Kegel exercises are really paying off,” he groaned, wondering for a moment if he’d have marks on his cock from her amazingly strong contractions. She squeezed once more, on purpose this time, and made him groan. “And don’t you forget who’s fucking you, Max…” “Whoa. Where did that come from?” He opened his eyes and looked quizzically at her.

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“I saw how you looked at Miss Emma Hansell. You all but drooled. The tongue was hanging out, your dick was hard and you wanted, baby, you wanted some of it. Didn’t you?” “Oh, and I suppose that was some other executive playing Miss-I’m-going-to-havea-working-weekend with Michael Gretty,” snorted Max. “If we play our cards right, Max darling, we might end up with everything we want. Don’t you think Emma and Max would be nice playmates? There’s such potential there…” “Possibly,” answered Max. “But first we have to clean up—and then, I think, we should strategize. Divide and conquer, perhaps?” Cool blue eyes met even colder hazel eyes. “My thoughts exactly, darling.”

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Chapter 5 “Oh, good shot. Damn, you’ve wiped the floor with me,” called Emma, pushing sticky hair back from her forehead. “Hey, you’ve got the arm, you just need practice,” Max laughed, vaulting the net of the leaf dusted tennis court and lobbing his racket in the air. “That was a lot of fun, Emma. Thanks!” He grinned as he caught the returning racket and hugged her, all in one smooth move. His arm was gone almost before she’d registered its pressure. She wasn’t quite sure how they’d ended up alone together on the quiet tennis court, but Jasmine had wasted no time after their arrival in pulling Michael into her office and demanding he run the development software for her again. It had been only too easy to follow Max on a tour of the house and end up hot and sweaty after a fast and furious set of tennis. “I haven’t played in a long time, but it certainly felt good.” She smiled reaching for her sweatshirt. “And how lucky it’s such a great day.” The sun had favored them with one of those rare New England November days when the temperature hovered near sixty and the few remaining chrysanthemums burst into bloom. Soon, heavy frosts would shrivel everything, but for this day, the air was comfortable, and Emma had soon tossed her fleece shirt over to the side of the court. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to cool off with a swim—let’s go look at the pool. It’ll be getting dark soon, anyway,” said Max, slipping his hand casually in hers and leading the way from the tennis court through a hedge and back toward the house. “This is certainly a beautiful place. Jasmine’s very lucky.” “Yes, she is,” answered Max. “Oh—there’s the pool…” He pointed to a large, glassed-in area, where the blue glow whispered of tropical waters and a light fog of condensation was just beginning to sparkle on the windows.

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“Oh how lovely,” breathed Emma, as Max opened the door and led her inside. His hands brushed her arms as he moved past her to a bank of switches. He flicked one and underwater lights flared into life, sending a soft undulating shadow across the plants that surrounded the pool. The air was warm and humid, and Emma brushed a drop of sweat from her cheek. She jumped when Max brushed his lips over her forehead. “Sorry, you looked so edible—I couldn’t help it.” He grinned, smiling at her with such warmth that she couldn’t help but smile back. “How about that swim?” “Um—Max, perhaps some other time? I didn’t bring a suit.” Emma blushed. “Emma. Sweetie. Don’t be provincial!” said Max, running his finger along her chin and leading her to a bar in a dimly lit alcove on the far side of the pool. He moved behind the counter and rattled around, looking quite professional as he stirred, and shook, and finally nodded. “Come have a drink, at least.” He poured something into glasses, and ice clinked from a bucket. “Cheers!” He offered her the glass and clinked his against it. “What is it?” asked Emma, sniffing the sweetish scent curiously. “The base is a liqueur I think you might like, with a couple of flavorings added in,” answered Max casually, sipping his and leaning against the bar. Emma tried a little, letting the liquid sit on her tongue experimentally. “Oh god, Max, that’s good. What did you say was in it again?” Max looked pleased. “A little chocolate liqueur, a little peppermint, a dash of ice…” and a goodly belt of vodka, but he wasn’t about to divulge that secret ingredient! Emma took a hearty swig and licked her lips. Max got instantly hard. “Oh my, you have to tell me how to make this before we leave, Max, you really must…” Another swallow followed, and Emma grinned happily at Max.

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Max grinned back, his eyes wicked. “Well, while you finish your drink I’m going for that swim, and you’d better turn your back for a few minutes because I never wear a suit,” he chuckled, heading over to a large screened corner where towels were stacked neatly on a low bench. “Er—Max?” Emma’s head swam slightly, and she guessed it was probably hunger— they’d only had breakfast, and a few munchies on the trip down. She plopped herself onto one of the bar stools. Within moments Max emerged from behind the screen. He was splendidly nude. Emma gulped and forgot to turn away. He was a textbook picture of the perfect male. Wide shoulders tapered down past a well-defined set of pecs and the nicest rippling abs to a slim waist and hips. His smattering of hair whorled around his nipples and then narrowed past his waist towards his navel and below. And oh, below. Look out below, thought Emma, stifling a giggle. His cock was magnificent—long, upthrusting, nesting in a tangle of sandy brown curls, and obviously ready for action. His thighs looked strong, capable of holding a woman down while he took her. God, what would he be like? And what was the matter with her, thinking like this? She must remember Michael! Emma’s gaze rose up over his body again to his face—and met his, head on. He was not smiling, but waiting, watching, aware she was checking out every inch of him and confident he’d pass her inspection. She trembled, and the ice clinking in her glass reminded her of where she was. His lips curled. “Come on, Em, come for a swim. We’re quite alone here, no one will know. It’s almost dark now, so I won’t be able to see a thing…” He moved to the wall and dimmed the pool lights, swathing the room in an ethereal blue glow. She was so tempted. She absolutely must remember Michael.

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He dove into the pool, treating her to a glimpse of firm round buttocks, just slightly dimpled where strong muscles met bone. Her fingers curled. Her clit throbbed and her nipples felt three times their normal size. She really, really, HAD to remember Michael. Before she knew it, she was behind the screen peeling her shirt and jeans off and hanging them on the hook next to Max’s clothes. Her bra went next, and her hands went to the waist of her thong and froze. That would be too much of an invitation, she thought, leaving it where it was. Cautiously, she emerged from behind the screen, checking to make sure that Max wasn’t waiting to pounce. Max was waiting to pounce. Far too clever to be obvious about it, however, he was in the water, lazily stroking his way through a couple of laps. He knew the second she came out from the changing area, and his cock tightened in spite of the cool water flowing past it. His speed slowed. He swam to the edge of the pool near her, and laughed up into her nervous face, noting the arms hiding her breasts and the modest little thong. He was even more aroused by her caution than he would have been if she’d marched out naked and jumped him. “Good girl. Come on in, I won’t let you drown…” He playfully splashed a little water at her and she squeaked, forgetting that she was supposed to be covering her breasts as she batted at the droplets. Max drew in a shuddering gasp at the sight of her beautiful breasts. Full, firm and jutting towards him, they cried out for the touch of his fingers, his tongue, his teeth, and whatever else he could think of. “C’mon,” he urged, holding a hand out. “Oh, all right,” she giggled, feeling very warm and daring. Easing herself down onto the edge of the pool, she slid in, sighing with contentment as the warm water lapped her body.

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“Oh this is nice, Max. Thanks for encouraging me, it’s just what I needed.” She rolled onto her stomach and stroked away from him. Think Michael, think Michael, she muttered under her breath in time with her kicks. He groaned quietly, watching the two shining globes of her buttocks, separated by the fragile navy blue silk as they bobbed above and just beneath the surface. She dove down and swam back up, happy in the water, and clearly enjoying the freedom of almost skinny-dipping! Her smile told Max all he needed to know. For one of the few times in his life, he was almost drooling. He dove under the surface and came up behind her. “Hello there, you must be a mermaid.” He laughed in her ear, just lightly touching her waist beneath the water with his hands. She jumped a little and giggled. “Oh, no, not me. Mermaids have tails and shell necklaces and things.” Max’s hands passed up and over her breasts to her neck, just caressing her nipples lightly on the way. She forced herself to remember whatshisname. “Nope, you’re right, no shells here,” he whispered, treading water and rubbing his chest against her back. Reversing their course, his hands slid back down, down, past her waist to her hips. He flickered his fingers over her clit, again keeping the touch as light as air, but following it with a brush across her buttocks. “Gosh, no tail, either,” he murmured, pulling her closer to his body. His touches and caresses were having an effect on Emma. Who was it—that person she had to remember? She tried to tell herself that the drink was having an effect, but she knew it was him. He knew just when to touch her, and, more importantly, when not to touch her. He closed the gap between them and she felt that marvelous cock rubbing gently against her. “Emma, Emma,” he moaned, nipping at her shoulder.

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“Max, I don’t think…” “Sssh, don’t say anything, just hold on to the edge of the pool. Close your eyes…” Helpless to resist him and the urgings of her body, she did as she was told. There was something she should be remembering, but damn—her brain wouldn’t work, only her body. Oh yeah, that was working waaaay too well. His hands learned her curves, passing over her hipbones to her pussy and back to her buttocks. His tongue licked the droplets from her neck and shoulders and occasionally whirled around the sensitive rim of her ear. She gasped as he raised one hand and found her erect nipple. He teased and rolled and pushed and pulled—she was starting to move helplessly in the water, thrusting her hips back against him. His fingers went to work, slipping under her thong and around her aroused clit then between her legs, teasing her buttocks and cheekily brushing the sensitive nerves around her tight little anus. She was getting so turned on, she knew that within minutes she was going to let go of the side of the pool and drown them both. God help me, what am I doing? I’ve got to think of er—Michael! That’s his name, Michael. Emma gasped with relief as her brain started up again. God help me, thought Max. I’ve got to get inside her now! “Emma, come with me…please…” he whispered, tugging her hand and leading her through the shallow end of the pool to the ladder. A firm hand on her butt started her up the first step, and an inquisitive finger hurried her progress along. Only too glad to get out of that sensually soothing water, Emma bolted up the ladder. Within seconds she was standing, shaking and dripping, breast to chest, with a naked and aroused Max. His cock nudged her belly as he closed the distance between them. “I…I…” she stuttered, not knowing how to get out of a situation that she knew was partially her fault.

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He laid his fingers on her lips and bent to kiss her. At that moment a sound echoed around them and not far away a door slammed. “Shit,” he hissed. Dashing to the towels, he grabbed one and tossed it to Emma. “Here, put this on…quickly. I don’t want you embarrassed.” Shaking it out, she realized it was a robe. She struggled into it, as Max grabbed another towel and knotted it around his waist. “Over to the bar—fix yourself a drink.” He pushed her along until she stood at the back of the bar. Following her, he ducked down beneath the bar counter, just as the door to the house opened and light spilled over the tiles. “Emma, here you are,” said Jasmine, walking cautiously across the wet tiles. “We wondered where you were.” From his hiding place beneath the bar, Max realized that another opportunity was presenting itself. Succumbing to his urge, he leaned forward and ran his tongue up Emma’s thighs, between the folds of her robe and over her silk-covered clit. “I…” she squeaked, and then cleared her throat. “Sorry, must have gotten a little pool water by mistake. I hope you don’t mind my taking a quick dip.” Max’s tongue took a more leisurely dip across her hot mound as his thumb traced little circles around and over the sensitive flesh still concealed by the flimsy fabric. Emma tried to pull away, but Max was having none of it. His grip tightened. “Not at all, my dear. I’m glad you did. Did you and Max have a good game?” “Game?” asked Emma blankly, trying to hang onto the bar, because her knees were about to give out. Max buried his face in her silk covered pussy and munched. “Oh, the tennis game!” said Emma, sounding shrill even to her own ears. “Yes, indeed. Max is a very fine player,” who is about to make me come all over his face if I don’t do something now. Jasmine smiled. “Yes, he’s very talented, isn’t he?”

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Lady, you don’t know the half of it, thought Emma. She wriggled and broke Max’s death grip on her buttocks. “Well, I expect he’s gone to change for dinner already. I sent Michael up, so whenever you’re done here, feel free to change—we’ll be eating in about an hour or so.” “Wait, Jasmine, I’m just about done here.” She swung her foot forcefully inwards and connected with something warm. The hands dropped her buttocks and an odd sound seeped from the floor under the bar. “Can we walk up together?” She left the back of the bar, walking over to the other woman without a backward glance. The door slammed behind Jasmine and Emma, and for a moment there was silence. Then a little whimper emerged from the darkness, followed minutes later by Max himself, clutching his balls and looking very sick indeed.

***** A tap on his bedroom door made Michael jump. “Who is it?” he asked cautiously. “It’s me—let me in,” whispered Emma. Sighing with relief, Michael popped the lock on the knob and swung the door wide. Emma leapt into his arms and nearly knocked him off his feet. “Hey, I’m glad to see you too,” he laughed through a mouthful of hair. “Oh god, Michael, I wish we hadn’t come,” she muttered, burying her face in his neck and holding onto him with fierce strength. “Are you okay, babe? Emma? What’s the matter?” He closed and locked the door again, and drew her over to the bed, sitting her down and hugging her close to him. “Why the locked door?” Emma asked curiously. “You first, sweetheart. What’s the matter?” “Max,” she said. Michael came to full attention in an instant, his body going rigid.

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“Tell me,” he hissed through clenched teeth. “Oh no, Michael, it’s okay—he didn’t do anything. He tried, but never got anywhere,” said Emma, deciding that it was probably wisest not to mention the nakedbut-for-her-thong-in-the-pool bit. “It’s not as if we weren’t expecting it, but it just rattled me up, that’s all…” “You’re sure you’re okay?” asked Michael protectively. “Really, I’m fine. I’m certainly not used to guys coming on to me like that, but I handled it.” “So I don’t have to kill him?” Emma giggled. Michael could always bring a smile to her face, even in the darkest of moments. “Not today, but thanks for offering.” She grinned. “It’s given me a real pain of a headache, though,” she added, pressing the heel of her hand over her left eye. “Oh jeez, Em, not a migraine?” Michael had talked her through a couple of them, and knew how debilitating they could be. “Well, it’s starting to throb a bit, and come to think of it, my back is aching, I’m over-reacting to things, and…” she looked at him desperately, “…if I don’t get chocolate within the next five minutes, someone will die!” Michael groaned. “Of course. PMS!” “Yeah, Putting up with Men’s Shit!” snapped back Emma, unable to restrain the urge. Moments later, she was swamped with guilt! “God, I’m sorry. The last thing I need to do is snap at you. Take my mind off this stuff, tell my why your door is locked…” “That’s easy—Jasmine.” Emma sat up. “Don’t tell me. Do I have to kill her?” Michael chuckled. “Bloodthirsty little thing, aren’t you?”

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“If she lays one of those perfectly manicured hands on you, I’ll…I’ll…well, I’ll thing of something suitably horrible. I’ll steal all her designer clothes and make her wear polyester!” “Oh yeah, that ought to do it,” said Michael dryly. “Don’t laugh. That is a terrible threat. So she hit on you, did she?” Michael got off the bed and wandered restlessly around the room. “Michael, you’re blushing!” said Emma, biting back a snicker. “It’s not easy for a guy to complain about this stuff, Emma. For god’s sake, we’re supposed to be flattered, you know? The hunter becomes the hunted, modern woman is free to make her wants known, twenty-first century equality…all that business?” He ran his hand through his hair in frustration. “But you know something? I really felt uncomfortable. We were working. I was sitting at the desk and showing her some of the features of the product, and she was resting on the arm. She’d lean over and point at the screen, and before I knew it, her arm was around my neck and her boobs were two inches from my nose…” He thought it was best not to mention the my-god-she-has-one-awesome-set bit. “Then she’d pull back like nothing happened. Or she’d just brush my arm with her fingers—you know that habit of hers? But this time, she’d go back and forth, back and forth, like—like it wasn’t my arm she wanted to stroke. And she’d lick her lips as she watched her fingers…” “Umm—Michael?” “What?” “I get the point.” “Oh.” Michael blushed. “Well, did she actually make any suggestions?” asked Emma-the-practical. “No. Not verbally. That’s what was so frustrating. I was listening carefully too.” I’ll bet, thought Emma to herself. Michael heaved a huge sigh. “I haven’t a clue what to do here, babe. My instincts are to pack you and me up and ‘get the hell out of Dodge’ right now. But my brain is

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reminding me that this woman is my CIO. She has a lot of pull with the executives, and with my product so near release, blowing this weekend away could jeopardize everything I’ve worked for over the last year or so, and everything you’ve done over the past few weeks. There’s so much riding on this…” “I know, honey, I know,” said Emma, sliding off the bed and coming up behind Michael to give him a huge bear hug. He turned in her arms and hugged her back. “God, Emma Hansell, I’m so in love with you…” Emma stared at him. “You are?” she squeaked. “Of course I am,” he grinned. “I fell in love with you when you were sixteen, and even though I could see your breasts like they were naked in the sunshine, you just stood and stared at me with those incredible turquoise eyes, not flinching or covering yourself. That was the moment I knew you were mine.” “Oh Michael, dear god, I can’t remember a time I didn’t love you,” confessed Emma, burying her face into his chest. Michael stilled. “Really?” “Really. You seemed so together, you talked to me like I was someone who mattered, like my opinions counted and you wanted to hear what I thought. Of course you were also gorgeous, and I was a sex-starved teenager. What can I say? I was doomed from the start!” She grinned up at him. He bent his head and kissed her. Their lips met, not in desire, but in love—softly at first, like a pledge between them, then warming to reflect the deep and abiding passion they had discovered together. Emma moaned. Michael slid his hands down and cupped her buttocks, then realized her moan was not from growing passion, but growing pain. “It’s getting bad, isn’t it?” asked Michael worriedly. “It’s not getting better, that’s for sure,” said Emma, closing her eyes. “Of all the bad timing…”

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“Look,” said Michael. “Here’s what you’re going to do. You brought your headache meds, yes?” He knew she always kept a couple with her just in case of times like these. She nodded. “Did you bring your flannel nightie too?” She blushed. “Yeah, I did. Silly, I know, but I figured at some point it might get cold, and you know how I love that old thing.” Michael grinned. “So it’s not as seductive as your Victoria’s Secret teddy, but you know something?” He brushed her nose with his lips. “You turn me on just by walking into the room, Emma. I don’t care what you have on, just how I can get it off!” “Oh god, Michael, that’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me. Ever. Without exception.” “Go get your pills and your nightie and come back here to my room. Why Jasmine had to put you all the way down the end of the hall, I shudder to think. I’ll tell Jasmine and Max you have a migraine and make your apologies, then I’ll come back as soon as I can and climb in with you. I’ll feel safer with you in my room, anyway. I doubt Max would risk coming in here…” Emma winced, realizing how vulnerable she’d be in her own room. “Good plan, I like it,” she answered. “Go get your stuff, and I’ll get changed for dinner. We’ll survive this weekend somehow, even if I have to knock Jasmine out and tie her up to do it!” “She’d probably like that,” snorted Emma.

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Chapter 6 Physical violence was looking more and more like the only possible option, Michael realized, as he walked into the dining room a little later and found Jasmine on her own. She had changed into a dark blue silk dress that seemed to be held together by some kind of force field. There were no discernable fastenings except for a belt that tied around her small waist. Every curve was revealed, and her nipples stood up like little blueberries. Her finger ringed the top of her wine glass and she was staring out the window into the darkness with a little seductive curve to her lips. “Oh shit,” he thought to himself. “This is gonna be trouble.” Pasting a polite smile on his face he moved to take the glass of wine she offered him. “I have to make Emma’s apologies, Jasmine. She has come down with one of her migraines. She’s miserable about it, but there’s nothing she can do.” Jasmine made appropriate tutting noises, while the look in her eyes stripped Michael naked. “Are you and Emma…involved?” asked Jasmine smoothly. Michael drew in a breath. “We’re family, Jasmine.” His answer was truthful…sort of. “ She’s like a sister to me,” he answered firmly, promising any and all deities who might be listening multiple penances in apology for that answer which was, of course, a huge, whopping lie! “Ah,” murmured Jasmine. At a loss to interpret that, Michael sipped his wine. “Shall we eat then?” she asked, glancing at him through long gold-tipped lashes. “But isn’t Max joining us?” “Unfortunately, Max isn’t feeling too well, either. He tells me he thinks he may have pulled a muscle today—you know how much that can hurt a guy.” She smiled, drawing Michael into commiserating with her about poor Max. “He sends his apologies too…so I guess it’s just the two of us.”

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Her cat-like blue eyes shone with pleasure as she slipped her arm through his, nestled her breast against him and drew him to the formal dining table. “Oh, double shit,” thought Michael to himself.

***** So far so good. The thought trotted through Michael’s brain as he sat comfortably in Jasmine’s study nursing an excellent brandy. Dinner had been surprisingly delightful. Jasmine was charming, and, when she set herself to the task, was a very pleasant dinner companion. They had enjoyed a splendid meal—local shellfish prepared to perfection along with the last of the year’s corn and some tangy kind of sauce. Whatever else she did, Jasmine knew how to hire good staff—not once did Michael see any culinary helpers, but he was damn sure she hadn’t cooked it herself. Cooking wasn’t her forté. At least, not in the kitchen, anyway. She sat opposite Michael in the matching leather chair, next to the fire she’d asked him to light as she poured their after-dinner drinks. Their conversation had been general and amusing, covering their experiences in the high-tech world, swapping war stories, finding a few people that they both knew from various conferences, and commiserating on the current state of so many dotcom industries. Jasmine had shared a few reminiscences of her early years in the business, and Michael had found himself laughing and shaking his head, knowing only too well the kind of situations she was describing. Jasmine smiled back, all softness and silk, eyes glowing blue at him over the rim of her glass. She flicked her tongue out to catch a droplet of brandy that was sliding down the crystal. Michael couldn’t help it—his cock jumped. And damned if Jasmine’s eyes didn’t head straight for his crotch to observe. “Michael, we’ve had a lovely dinner together which I have enjoyed enormously.” “Oh—me too, me too.”

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“But I do need to ask if you’d reconsider your position on letting me have a copy of your source code.” That pink tongue continued to touch the glass. Delicately. “You know it would be in your best interests,” she said. “I have to confess, Jasmine, that it’s pretty clear it would be in your best interests, too. Not to mention Max Wolfe,” said Michael, wondering if the gloves were coming off. Jasmine chuckled. “Forget Max. He’s getting to be a liability. I don’t tolerate liabilities—they’re too restricting.” Her eyes continued to gaze at Michael thoughtfully. “But I don’t think you’d be a liability, Michael. What do you say? Your code, you and me. Together we could run this industry.” “What about Enchanted Cottage, Jasmine?” “What about it? Companies come and companies go, Michael. It’s a fact of life in our business. You’re not naive; you know that. As long as we have our golden parachutes in place, fuck the rest of them.” “So, you want me to give you the source code, and then you’ll make me your assistant, and we’ll move on to bigger and better things?” “Mmm…something like that,” she murmured. Michael chugged the rest of his brandy. Too fast. Coughing and sputtering, he put the snifter down on a side table, and stood. “Well, Jasmine,” he wheezed, “you’ve given me a lot to think about. I probably should call it a night…” Jasmine stood too, and crossed in front of the fire, reaching round to administer a sharp slap between the shoulder blades. Her fragrance, strong and musky, surrounded him. “Perhaps you’re right, Michael,” she purred. She moved close in front of him. Michael backed up a step. Jasmine followed. “Um—goodnight then…” said Michael nervously.

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Jasmine chuckled. “Oh not yet, Michael. Let’s turn in by all means, but let’s not say goodnight. At least not yet…” Her hands slid under Michael’s soft cashmere sweater, nails raking a trail unerringly up his bare chest to his flat nipples. She flicked them. Michael hissed. “You see, I think we could be good together in more ways than just business, Michael. You’re a man—a very nicely built man, I should add.” Her hands wandered over his skin beneath the sweater, learning, scraping, pulling, pinching lightly. His khakis were definitely getting uncomfortable. “And I’m a woman—and I’ve been told I’m quite nicely built too…” One hand left Michael’s warmth and tugged at her belt. The folds of blue silk fell away and Jasmine stood before him, totally nude beneath her dress. Michael was in one whole peck of trouble. His brain was telling him to handle this very cautiously—this woman held a lot of clout within the company. His other brain, the one beneath his belt, was shouting at him, trying to get his attention, and attempting to indicate that he’d like some of what was standing two inches away from him, please. Like very soon. Like maybe two seconds from now. And all the time his heart was telling him to remember how much he loved Emma Hansell. “Um—yes you are, Jasmine. Nicely built, that is. Very nicely indeed, actually…” He couldn’t help it—he gazed at her. Legs that seemed to go on forever met at a completely hairless pussy. (Psssst, said his cock. See that? See that? Lookee here. Ohboyohboyohboy.) Slim hips were topped by an even slimmer waist, which was shadowed by a set of perfect breasts. Their nipples were hard and aroused, and Jasmine leaned over to rub them against Michael’s skin as she held his sweater out of the way.

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Michael groaned. Trying to regain control, he backed up a step. (What are you doin’, dude, are you an idiot or what?) “Oh shut up,” silently ordered Michael, wondering if his cock was on remote access all of a sudden. It had apparently developed a mind of its own. Jasmine took a step forward and pulled a clip from her hair. About four miles of blonde silk cascaded down her back. Michael gulped and backed up again. Jasmine took a step forward and grasped his belt. Her nails tickled his stomach. (Hello? Anybody home up there?) Michael backed up, inching towards the hall. Jasmine, ever persistent followed. By the time their odd little dance had led to Michael’s door, she had his zip down, and he was hanging on to his pants for dear life. His cock had given up on the conversation and was now panting helplessly. “Um—Jasmine,” he stuttered, backing up against his door. “Oooh, Michael, you devil. Silk boxers. I do so love silk boxers.” She rubbed her pussy against his cock, dampening the silk with her juices. Michael, panicked, opened his door and the two of them nearly fell into his room. Jasmine bent and nipped his skin. “Ouch…” Jasmine slid her hand inside his briefs. “Ohmigod,” breathed Michael as she slid her cool hand over his throbbing cock. “Mmmm…” she murmured, bending down even more, and flicking her hair across his navel. A snuffle from the darkness of the bed froze both of them. “Oh shit,” thought Michael, reality cutting through the sexual haze that Jasmine was busily inducing in his brain. “Oh my,” said Jasmine, moving away from Michael. “What have we here?” Michael closed his eyes and prayed for divine intervention.

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Nothing happened. Damn. His cock had just developed sentience and was hanging out of his boxers, his company’s CIO was standing almost naked in front of him and the love of his life was sleeping three feet away. It wasn’t his day for miracles. Jasmine flipped on a small nightlight and moved to the bed, where Emma presented a charming picture. Hair braided neatly, Emma’s head was dead center in her pillow, turned slightly with her cheek on one hand. The ruffles of her favorite old nightgown framed her face, and she looked exactly like an illustration out of a Victorian children’s story, innocent and peaceful. “My god, you are related, aren’t you?” murmured Jasmine, unable to believe her eyes. “Only someone who’s family would come to your bed wearing that—that—rag,” she scoffed, lip curling in distaste. Snorting, she turned away. Michael was doing up his pants. “Oh don’t bother. We’re clearly not meant to happen tonight. I can live with it,” she said, crossing to him. “But there will come a time, Michael. I’ll have you, and the source code…” she glanced back at the bed, “because I have a feeling that family probably means a lot to you—a weakness, but there you are, nobody’s perfect.” She plastered her hand over his crotch and gripped his still-solid cock. “I want to hear that you agree with my plan, Michael, and I want to hear it soon. Because if I don’t, your ’family’ here might find herself out of a job. And wouldn’t it be sad if she couldn’t find another one since she’s been blacklisted within the industry?” Michael’s gut froze at those words and his cock shriveled under her touch. “Yeah, I thought that would make an impression. I can do it, Michael, and you know it. Just think about that, all right?” She grabbed his head and brought it forcefully to hers, smashing her mouth into his and bruising his lips. He pulled away and just barely stopped himself from wiping the back of his hand across his lips.

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“I think you’d better leave, Jasmine,” he said, hoping that his voice stayed expressionless. She smiled. “Sure. We understand each other now, I think. Goodnight, Michael.” The door closed behind her, and silence fell. Until Emma rolled over in the bed, opened her eyes and looked at Michael. “That fucking bitch,” she said.

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Chapter 7 Michael gulped. “Em—jeez, honey, I…I…” “Michael, it’s okay. I heard it all. She’s living up to her name. Or down to it as the case may be.” She pulled herself up on the pillows and patted the bed next to her. “Come on Michael, come to bed. I need a really big hug right about now.” Wondering how such a shit day could end on such a wonderful note, Michael slid roughly over the cover and grabbed Emma in his arms. “God, Emma, she’s such a witch. I won’t let her hurt you. Not ever.” Emma smoothed his hair gently with her hand. “She can’t hurt me Michael, because I have you.” She dotted little kisses around his ear. “She doesn’t, and she won’t, and make no mistake about it, if she comes on to you when I’m in the vicinity, the woman is toast! Got that?” Michael chuckled. “Yep. Loud and clear.” He turned and looked up at her. “I love you, Em. That was my strength tonight. Sure the hormones got a bit fidgety—but no more than they would at a Baywatch video. In my heart I could hear you and see you and smell you…” She laughed as he peppered her nose with kisses. “I love you too, Michael. Now as for those hormones…” She reached down to his still-unbuttoned pants and slid the zip all the way open. (Hello? You mean there’s life up there after all?) He stayed her hand with his. (That’s it, I’m leaving, I’m gone, let’s see how he likes singing the high parts from the last BeeGees album!) “You don’t have to do this, sweetheart. I know that with your migraine and…and everything…” He glanced over at her stomach, his expression indicating all that other “female stuff”. “Silly. I have cramps not paralysis.” She eased off his pants and played with his silk boxers, rubbing and teasing his cock and his balls with the soft fabric.

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Michael settled more comfortably next to her, eyes slitted, watching her as she bent to her task. He sighed as she removed his underwear and caressed him with her braid. (Now this is more like it. Maybe I’ll stay around…oooh…yeah…) Her tongue slithered over him, bringing a moan to his throat and tightening his skin beneath her fingers. She began to play. She played “ice-cream cone” with his cock, and “sticky fingers” with his balls, licking them both appropriately. Then she played “vacuum” and reduced him to a tense, whimpering puddle. At last she played “tickle THE spot” and Michael thrust his hand into her hair, pulling her head away. “I can’t hold it, honey, I’m gonna come any second,” he gasped. “Let go, Michael. Please…I want to do this…” she hissed fiercely at him. Far be it for him to argue. She returned to her position, swirling and sucking his cock energetically. She could feel his balls tightening beneath her hand and with the other she squeezed the base of his cock and pressed back into his body slightly. He panted, buttocks clenching, legs twisting, hand fisted so tightly in her hair that it pulled. He was lost, focused completely on the moist warmth of her mouth bringing him to an incredible peak. He sucked in a breath and choked back a cry as he shattered. His buttocks thrust him upwards as his hand pushed her head down – she felt his tangy cum spurt right down into the back of her throat. She was very proud of herself for not gagging. “Oh babe…” moaned Michael, in post-orgasmic bliss. “Oh babe.” She grinned to herself as she wriggled back up next to him and cuddled into his warmth. He turned on his side and tucked her buttocks into his groin, holding tight to her as he snuffled her braid out of his nose. He was asleep in seconds. (Oh…yeah…hmmmm. There’s hope for him yet.)

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***** Emma woke slowly, warm and comfortable under a soft quilt. Her back was toasty because Michael was plastered against it from shoulder to ankle. His hand rested low on her stomach and regular rumbling breaths told her that he was still deeply asleep. She eased out of his grip and made a very necessary trip to the bathroom. The late sunrise was just peeking over the horizon, and a soft light bathed the room. Crossing to the window, Emma gazed out at the sea and pondered their dilemma. How to deal with a powerful boss who was threatening her, so that Michael would agree to her plans. Emma ground her teeth in frustration, hating the knowledge that she was being used, and that Michael’s love for her could be looked at as a weakness, to be manipulated at will. She focused on Jasmine. What did she know about her? Beautiful, successful and with the sexually predatory instincts of an amoral cat. And that was probably being grossly unfair to cats. She was also arrogant and self-confident, as far as Emma could tell. It didn’t seem as though much had prevented Jasmine from taking what she wanted. So how could all these character traits be tied together into a noose to strangle her with…and how could Emma do it? An idea began to jell in her mind as she absently watched the sun glittering off the gentle sway of the ocean. An idea that might get her and Michael off Jasmine’s hook and save the company as well. Because it was becoming painfully clear that Jasmine would do whatever necessary to advance her own career and the hell with Enchanted Cottage, Inc. A sound from the bed drew her attention and she watched with pleasure as her man woke up. Stretching and yawning, Michael was truly a sight for sore eyes in the morning. His beard stubble added a touch of wickedness to his tousled look, and his body looked

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lean and munchable. He sported a most impressive erection—sadly this was one of the few days that it was going to have to go to waste. Emma sighed. “Good morning,” he mumbled, sliding to the edge of the bed and sitting up, rubbing a hand over his chin. “Been up long?” “No, just a few minutes, “ she answered. “How’s the headache?” “All better, thank God.” “And the cramps?” He came to stand behind her and slid his warm hands down past her navel to rest gently on her lower belly. “Mmm, that’s so nice, Michael. Just the right spot. I’d rather have you than aspirin any day.” She leaned back against him. “I’ve been doing some thinking…” “Oh yeah? About me?” He nuzzled her ear and dropped a quick little kiss on her lobe. “Always about you, honey, always…” she laughed. “God you feel good,” whispered Michael, hugging her nightgown-clad body to his nakedness. “Just like Manny…” “Manny? Who the hell’s Manny?” She half turned in his arms. “Manny was one of my very first stuffed toys. He was a cat, and after a while one ear fell off, both eyes vanished, and a leg got twisted around backwards. But I loved him so much that I wore off a good portion of his fur and he ended up feeling so soft and cuddly, just like you…” “Ah. So you really love me because I feel as good as a blind, hearing impaired bald cat,” teased Emma. “Yep.” “Well, thanks for sharing.” “Of course, Manny was missing a few important things besides his eyes and that ear…” His hands slid up and cradled her breasts, aware of her flinching. “I know—they’re tender right now. Don’t worry, I’m just going to hold them.” And he did.

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Was it any wonder she was completely and totally nuts about this guy? How could she even have contemplated, for one microsecond, having Max anywhere near her? Which brought another question to her mind. “Michael, what happened to Max last night? Wasn’t he at dinner with you and Jasmine?” Michael blew hot air into the flannel of her nightgown and made her giggle. “Nope.” “Did Jasmine say why?” “Something about a pulled muscle? From the tennis game or the pool or something?” Emma stilled as an awful thought crossed her mind. “Oh dear,” she said. “What is it babe?” “Yesterday, I—er—may have—umm—accidentally kicked Max. In a rather sensitive male place. Absolutely accidentally, you understand.” Probably best not to mention that Max had been trying to eat her out of her thong at the time. “Would that incapacitate him that much?” Michael squirmed behind her. “Yes. Ouch, it sure would. What happened?” “Oh…you know, one of those silly things…um…in the pool? It’s hard to tell where you’re kicking when you’re swimming.” She steadfastly kept her eyes on the ocean outside the window. “I didn’t realize it would do so much damage. Oh lord, now I feel really bad,” she added. “Not as bad as he did, most probably,” chuckled Michael. “Sounds like he deserved it. Putting his hands on my woman. Hah. I should break his knees, but it sounds like you bust his balls, so I guess I’ll let him live. For now!”

***** The overnight bags next to the door told their own story as Jasmine and Max walked into the sunlit kitchen to see Michael and Emma enjoying coffee and rolls. A

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silent maid was hovering over the enormous stove across the acres of kitchen—Emma had had serious envy pangs when she’d seen the magnificence of this culinary dream. She cringed mentally as she noticed that Max was walking with a slight limp, but other than a miniscule raise of one sardonic eyebrow, he said nothing. “So you’ve decided to head out early?” asked Jasmine politely. “We thought it best, Jasmine,” answered Emma. Michael kept his nose in his coffee mug. “The alarm goes off quite early on Monday morning, and I know I have things that I must do around the house, as does Michael, I’m sure.” “Quite,” answered Jasmine noncommittally. “But I have really appreciated your hospitality, and being able to see this beautiful house.” She couldn’t, in all honesty, call it a home—it wasn’t. “The Cape is really quite unique, isn’t it?” The chatter grew general as opinions of Cape Cod, its architecture, its economy and its beaches were discussed fully and at length. Everyone politely ignored the undercurrents that swirled around them. Finally, it was time to leave. Heaving a sigh of relief, Emma walked out to the driveway behind Michael and Jasmine, with Max bringing up the rear. This was her chance to get something off her chest, and she knew there would be no better time. “Max,” she said, turning to him and stopping in the driveway. Max was forced to stop too. “I have to say something to you…” She gripped her purse tightly, as one of Max’s mobile eyebrows raised itself a lazy half-inch and his eyes challenged her. “I am so very sorry.” His entire body froze. “You’re what?” “I’m terribly, abjectly sorry if I accidentally hurt you yesterday.”

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Max seemed stunned. Actually, he looked like he’d just taken a severe blow to the head, followed by a fudgsicle up the ass. “I…I…don’t understand,” he stuttered in confusion. “I hurt you when I kicked out at you under the bar.” She moved beside him and tucked her arm through his, encouraging him to take a few steps forward. It wouldn’t do to appear too intense because she did not want to share this conversation with Jasmine or Michael. “And I know that it was partly my fault that you were under there in the first place. I should never have let things get that far, and I’m really very sorry that I behaved that way.” Max stared into her turquoise eyes, as if he couldn’t believe what he saw. “You mean that, don’t you?” “Of course. One drink, even one of your super special chocolate mint whammies, shouldn’t have turned me into a sex-crazed half-naked tease. I can only apologize again…” She looked down, determined not to let him see her blush. “Actually it was a lot more like nine-tenths naked, as I remember it…” The old Max was reasserting itself. “Well, I’d prefer you not remember it at all, if you wouldn’t mind.” “Oh, I can’t agree to that, Emma. I have a feeling those moments will become quite special to me. They may well feature in several rather interesting masturbation fantasies that come to mind.” Emma couldn’t help it. She blushed. Then she snorted. “Oh yeah, right! Like you have to take care of—like you—um—as if you’re ever without a woman,” she compromised, having realized halfway through that sentence that she simply wasn’t going to go any further with that thought. “Believe it or not, there have been a few times…” He grinned cheekily. “But I am a little surprised that you’re apologizing to me. Most women would have been furious at me for coming on so strong to them…”

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Emma huffed at that. “Most women ought to be really thankful if you tried to seduce them. But I am talking seduction, here, aren’t I, Max? Not a simple fuck. A real, honest-to-God seduction. There is a difference…” “Emma—I believe there is. I also believe I came pretty close to forgetting that important fact.” He looked at her somberly. “Well, whatever we call it, I am still really sorry that I hurt you and that I behaved rather badly…” “Wanna kiss it and make it better?” Emma noted the wicked gleam had come back to Max’s extraordinary hazel eyes. “Max Wolfe, you are one major belly sucker!” “I’m what?” “You know, the kind of guy a woman sucks her belly in to impress?” “Oh. That’s good?” Emma chuckled at Max’s rather befuddled expression. “Oh yeah, that’s good.” “Emma—time to leave,” called Michael, who was busily trying to avoid getting too close to Jasmine as he loaded the bags into the car. Emma turned back to Max. “You heard the man. I have to go.” Max leaned forward and surprised both of them by gently kissing her cheek. “Emma, you are one special lady. Michael is a very lucky guy.” Emma paled. “It’s as plain as daylight,” smiled Max. “He looks at you like you’re a three course meal he can’t wait to eat. You look at him like if he’ll wait a minute you’ll lay the table and grab the cutlery.” “Oh,” breathed Emma, uncertain of what else to say. “Does Jasmine…” “I doubt it. Jasmine would never believe that any man could find another woman more attractive than herself. And in all fairness, she’s usually right.” “But not this time,” muttered Emma.

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“No. Not this time.” He brushed her hand with his and lifted it to his lips in an oddly old fashioned gesture of gallantry. “May your life be a long and happy one, Emma. And if that bugger gives you trouble, come find me. I could take you away, light years away…” He bobbled both brows, and she laughed, pulling her hand away with a little squeeze. “Oh I bet you could make galaxies appear,” she teased. “Be happy yourself, Max.” She turned towards the car where Michael was waiting, watching her with a quizzical expression. Jasmine and Max stood, both unusually silent, as the car disappeared and the sounds of the ocean filled the air. “So, you gonna fuck her when we get back?” Jasmine’s hostile question ruined the moment. Max’s lips curled in what was, for him, an unusually gentle smile. “Oh, I think she may have beaten me to it, my dear Jasmine. I think she already fucked me!”

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Chapter 8 The next few days passed in a rush of activity for Michael and Emma. At Enchanted Cottage, Inc., Michael’s project was now on everyone’s top priority list, and his development team was working long hours getting everything tied up together nicely. The C.E.O. was making noises about a January release, and that pushed the deadline ahead by a couple of months, making life hectic for everyone. Emma, too, was busting her artistic chops, knowing how much was riding on this project. As chief graphic designer, it was her job to make it look as good as it functioned. Luckily she had an “in” with the developer. And more often than not, when they weren’t working, the developer was “in” her. One way or another. About ten days after their eventful weekend on the Cape, Emma sat comfortably across Michael’s hips in their bed. “I’ve got it!” she announced. “I know…” moaned Michael, who happened to be milliseconds away from pumping everything—up to and including his earlobes—into the woman straddling him. “Not that…I know what we have to do about Jasmine!” She frowned absently. “Not. Right. Now.” hissed Michael. He slid his hands to her pussy and roughly teased her clit, making her buttocks clench. “Oh—,” she gasped. “Okay. Remind me in a minute or s…s…” Her voice trailed away as Michael’s fingers drove all thoughts from her mind. His cock moved inside her as she pressed herself down on him. He urged her up slightly, and set a gentle rocking motion going, which he echoed with his thumb across her now ferociously aching clit. His other hand crept around her buttocks and into the darkness of the cleft that separated them.

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She sucked in a loud breath as he pressed against her anus, setting fire to the nerve endings that were so unused to the touch of a lover’s hand. “Oh god…” She squirmed, on fire. “Oh yes,” groaned Michael, stepping up his thrusts. “Oh…oh…Aiiyyeee…” Michael’s finger penetrated the rim of her anus just as she felt the spasms beginning. A mammoth orgasm rolled over her and her insides felt like some kind of galactic collapse was taking place in her personal internal universe. Michael gasped as her body gripped him tight, oh so tight, and he lost control, pumping wildly into the sobbing woman above him. For long moments, the world ended for both of them. A little while later, when the molecular structure of matter had satisfactorily reestablished itself, Emma slid off Michael and collapsed into a whimpering heap of contentment next to him. “So. Wanna hear plan A?” Michael sighed. “So much for afterglow.” Emma chuckled and kissed the flat nipple that was conveniently close to her lips. “It’s a good plan, Michael. I know the what, and I know the when, I just don’t know the how. That’s where you come in.” “Oh, I have a role in this plan?” She snorted. “You said plan A. What’s plan B?” “Don’t need one.” “Really?” “Plan A is going to work. If it doesn’t, we’re cooked anyway, so why have a backup?” “Sounds logical.” Michael snuggled her tight against him and pulled the covers comfortably around them both.

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“Move over. It’s soggy here,” grumbled Emma. After some rustling and fidgeting, they were both settled. “Now, here’s the plan,” said Emma, enthusiastically. “Jasmine is trying to set you up to hand over the source code and your godlike body…” Michael preened. “Which she will probably dispose of like a used tissue within weeks.” “Hah.” “She will, trust me. Look at Max.” “What about Max?” “I don’t know. Have you seen hide nor hair of him since we got back from the Cape?” Michael thought for a moment. “Actually…now that you mention it, no.” “See?” Michael didn’t, but being a wise man with the woman he loved naked in his arms, he nodded anyway. “What we need to do is to come up with a pre-emptive strike…” “You’ve been reading Clancy again, haven’t you?” “Shh…I’m on a roll here. Our pre-emptive strike will set Jasmine up before she can set you up. Do you see?” “No.” Emma sighed. “All we have to do is to get some kind of recording or video of Jasmine telling you about her plans for your source code and Enchanted Cottage. If she adds the bit about burying me professionally, that’s fine too. Then we take that to Mr. Clifford, and—ta da! Mission successful.” Michael was silent, mind working, twisting thoughts one way and another. “Jasmine’s weakness is her arrogance—her determined belief that she’s irresistible to men. She’d never imagine in a thousand years that you wouldn’t want her. So it would be a piece of cake for you to get her somewhere and have her tell you again, in

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detail, what she wants. I’m surprised she hasn’t tried it already, but with those conferences going on across town, at least she’s been out of your hair. If it hadn’t been so busy this past week, she’d have been all over you like a cheap suit…” Emma chewed her lip. “The holidays are coming up and people are leaving early. That gives us several windows of opportunity to accomplish our task. The only thing I haven’t figured out is the how of it. We can’t just mosey on up to her and say, oh Jasmine, come spill your nefarious plans into this convenient micro-recorder I just happen to have here…” Michael turned his head and grinned. “You know, I think I may have the ‘how’ for you, babe.” Emma looked at him, eyes wide. “You do?” “Yep.” “So? What is it?” “Well, let me see.” Michael smoothed Emma’s tumble of hair behind her ear. “It definitely falls under the heading of ’need-to-know’, and I’d have to be convinced that you need to know.” He grinned. “Oh. You mean I might have to—um—seduce it out of you? Kind of like the German-baron-and-the-French-countess-behind-enemy-lines-type scenario?” Michael’s smile spread from ear to ear. “I’ll get the handcuffs.”

***** Jasmine was back in the office the following morning, and Emma had gritted her teeth as she noticed the elegant black sedan parked in the CIO slot. She just hoped that Michael would be able to set up his part of the plan. Worrying about it wouldn’t help him, she decided, and turned her attention to her screens. This was going to be Enchanted Cottage’s most successful product ever, if she had anything to say about it, and she clicked her way through her graphics programs trying to fine-tune and polish the work she’d done so far.

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A couple of hours later, she straightened the kinks in her spine with a groan and turned as her door opened. A huge basket of flowers walked in. Emma blinked. “Hey, gonna give a girl a hand here, or what?” came Janine’s acerbic voice from behind the baby’s breath. “What the hell are you doing with that?” asked Emma, grabbing one side of the handle and helping Janine set it down on Emma’s desk. “I’m not doing anything with it, except deliver it. And I’m not doing that very well, either. I think a couple of mums got decapitated in the elevator. If I were you I wouldn’t tip me.” “Okay. Consider yourself not tipped.” “They’re for you, in case I forgot to mention that, on account of I was completely out of breath and may have a serious groin injury from lifting this thing. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were going to a Mob boss’s wake and needed something for the funeral home.” Emma had to laugh at Janine’s eerily accurate description of the enormous arrangement in front of her. “I’m staggered, Janine. Just staggered.” “And I’m damn curious. Open the card, will you, before I pass out from exhaustion here.” Emma reached over the top of the flowers into the depths of the basket, where a gold envelope wrapped in a large gold and white bow rested. Gently she drew it out, not wanting to disturb the magnificent flowers. “God, this is gorgeous, isn’t it?” she breathed. Chrysanthemums of every autumn color rioted throughout the basket, lighting up the whole room. Deep rusty browns and burgundies offset huge fluffy blooms of white and yellow. Tiny yellow and white daises filled in the spaces along with the baby’s breath, and there was lots of artistically trailing ivy adding dimension and interest.

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“The card, honey. I’m not getting any younger here…” reminded Janine. Emma slit the envelope and pulled out the full-sized card. She burst out laughing. On the front was a mouse. A voluptuous, golden-tressed mouse, corseted into a close approximation of Mae West. A huge hat was tilted over one eye and one paw rested seductively on a little mouse hip. “Oh, funny!” she giggled. The caption read “Come Up and See Me Sometime…” She opened the card and gasped at the signature. Max! “Okay – give, toots. I’m not leaving until I know who!” Emma looked at Janine. “Promise you won’t tell?” Janine nodded. “Anyone, ever, Janine? This is really important…” “Honey, my middle name is ‘Clam’.” “No it isn’t. It’s Ruth.” Janine growled. “Okay. It’s from Max Wolfe.” The air whistled out from between Janine’s teeth as she sank into Emma’s chair. “Wow. I’m not sure if I want to ask what you did to merit a basket like this.” “Actually, I may have sterilized him,” said Emma ruefully. “WHAT?” “Never mind, long story. Listen to this—oh my God…” and Emma’s eyes ran over the rest of the card. “’Emma, hope you like the flowers. By now you may have heard that I have quote—accepted another position elsewhere—unquote. Of course, this really means that Jasmine fired me. It seems that I couldn’t continue to meet her expectations in certain areas. I am reassured that I will be functioning normally within a few weeks, but that wasn’t enough for the boss. ‘Don’t you dare feel responsible. My leaving was going to happen sooner or later, and in a way I’m glad it’s done. Now I’m free to wander where I choose. ‘I want to say thanks for something you gave me (besides a pain in the…’” Emma paused and delicately cleared her throat.

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“’You gave me back a measure of my self-respect by treating me as a person with feelings, rather than a body with a cock,’” Janine choked. Emma ignored her and read on. “’For this, I shall always be grateful. Good luck to you, sweetheart… Remember, my offer still stands…there are nebulae waiting! Yours, Max.’” Emma’s voice trailed off, and she met Janine’s wide-eyed gaze. “Wow.” Emma nodded. “Wow indeed.” Janine sighed. “So that’s why we haven’t seen Mr. Wonder Buns around lately. God I’m going to miss that man’s butt…” Emma chuckled. “He’s really a nice guy, Janine.” “Oh, you mean under the second, third and fourth layers of blazing sexuality and masculine appeal?” “Yep.” “I’ll take your word for it. At my time of life, blazing sexuality wins every time!” Janine headed for the door then paused and pointed at the basket. “What are you going to do with that? I doubt that Michael would be impressed with Max’s floral tribute or cute card…” Emma thought for a moment, then went over and gently removed one enormous fluffy yellow mum. “I’m going to call Kate up in Human Resources…she just got engaged, didn’t she?” “Yep. Some guy from Prudential Securities, I think.” “Well, I’ll tell her it came down here by mistake with no tag on it, and I want her to have it on account of her happy news. How about that?” Janine sighed. “I guess. Can I snitch a mum before you dump it?” “Sure—be my guest.” Janine carefully extracted a huge white mum. “Some day, Emma Hansell, you and I are going out for drinks after work, and you’re going to give me the whole scoop on

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how you nearly unmanned Max Wolfe and why it earned you a huge basket of flowers. Deal?” “Deal,” smiled Emma.

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Chapter 9 It was the day before Thanksgiving, and already the halls and offices of Enchanted Cottage, Inc. were quiet. Whenever possible, people loved to get away early and ”beat the rush” thus creating a rush themselves that they were helpless to beat. The twisted logic of the human mind was completely lost on Jasmine Wietsch as she sat elegantly at her desk catching up on her email. There was a lot of it. Without her realizing it, Max had actually been very useful in dealing with a number of issues that had now landed back on her plate. That plate was awfully close to overflowing, and she wondered for the twentieth time if Michael Gretty would come through for her. He could handle a lot of this stuff much better than she could. Damn those conferences and meetings. She should have kept the pressure up on Michael directly after their abortive weekend on the Cape, but she simply couldn’t be everywhere at once. Well, perhaps after the holiday weekend, she could get back on track. Time was growing shorter, and she hadn’t had a good fuck for a couple of weeks now. Damn Max. A knock on the door heralded a janitor, peeking around at her. “Excuse me, Ma’am, just checking the offices. Folks are heading off early, so we’re trying to do the same.” He was delightfully handsome, with a pair of flashing eyes and white teeth that gleamed against a dark moustache when he smiled. Jasmine purred. Just the thing. “No problem…come on in. I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name?” “I’m Roberto, Ma’am…” “Well, come right in, Roberto.” “Thanks—I won’t be but a minute.” “Oh, what’s the hurry, Roberto? Wife and kids waiting for you to start the holiday?”

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“Oh no, Ma’am.” He laughed. “I’m still in college. Just hanging around Boston for the holidays. Got this part time job with Clean Crews for some extra spending cash, you know?” “Indeed I do.” She smiled, noting the broad shoulders beneath the overalls. She perched on her desk, crossing her legs and allowing her skirt to ride up to three degrees south of indecency. Roberto’s eyes followed the fabric and his tongue slid out between his lips. Leaning back, Jasmine gazed at Roberto. “So what are you studying, Roberto?” The young man wrenched his gaze from her thighs to her face. “Um—sorry?” “I said what are you studying?” “Oh—anatomy. Med School.” “You picked a specialty, yet?” “I’m thinking possibly gynecology,” he breathed. Jasmine pushed her breasts against the silk sweater she was wearing, knowing her nipples had hardened and were visible through the fine fabric. “Me too,” she growled. “Ma’am, I…” Roberto dropped his cleaning basket on the floor, as he read her signals loud and clear. “Honey, we’re grown ups, and we want something. Wouldn’t it be a good idea to discuss what it is we both want? That is…if we do both want it?” She uncrossed her legs and widened them slightly, knowing Roberto had a pretty good glimpse of her pussy and the fact that she’d skipped the underwear portion of her morning routine. Roberto’s overalls suddenly became distorted and he groaned slightly. “C’mere, honey,” she crooned. Like a hypnotized sleepwalker, Roberto allowed Jasmine’s cool blue eyes to lure him close to her. She lifted his work roughened hands and slid them under the sweater, closing her eyes and shuddering as the blunt fingers slid awkwardly across her nipples. Her own

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hands lifted to his shoulders and she flipped the metal clasps on his overalls. They dropped to the floor. “My, oh, my,” she whispered, sliding her hands over his briefs and caressing his very nicely shaped erection. “Oh lord, Ma’am…” breathed Roberto, kneading her breasts and trying to pull her closer. He smelled different, thought Jasmine, inhaling his scent. A not displeasing blend of musky male and disinfectant. This might change her whole perspective on housework. But then again, probably not. She spread her legs wider, and eased his briefs down to join his pants on the floor around his ankles. Roberto pulled her sweater up and over her head. “Watch the hair, big boy,” she directed. “Yes Ma’am,” mumbled Roberto as his mouth fell upon her eager nipples. “Oh yeah, good tongue…” She sighed as he suckled her tight buds up against the roof of his mouth. His hand pulled her skirt up to her waist and he pulled her pussy tight up against him with a slap. His cock thrust against her belly, hot and ready. Jasmine, who could have been the poster girl for the Boy Scout’s motto of “Be Prepared”, reached under her desk blotter and pulled out a small foil package. “Just a second, my fine studly fellow,” she said, sheathing him with the practiced hand of an expert. “Now. You may proceed.” And Roberto did just that. Releasing her nipple with a pop, he looked down at her naked pussy and murmured his pleasure. “Oh god, I’m gonna fuck you so good…” he muttered, watching as he guided his cock towards her dripping entrance. He took his finger and rubbed some of her own juices around and over her clit, making her squirm with pleasure. Then he pushed in, an inch or so, and looked at her.

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“You sure you want this, Ma’am?” Jasmine clenched her teeth, raised her legs and locked her ankles behind his buttocks. With a groan she tightened her muscles and forced him to thrust deep inside her. “God yeah. Does that answer your question?” “Alrighty then…” he whispered. “Let’s do it…” He yanked her to the very edge of the table and slammed into her even deeper than before. His cock pounded deep inside her where it felt sooooo good. The flannel shirt he was still wearing abraded her nipples and added to Jasmine’s excitement. Her muscles started to tighten, when Roberto slid both hands round her buttocks and hissed, “Hold on.” He raised her off the desk and rammed into her again. Jasmine couldn’t believe how deep inside her his cock was reaching! Roberto turned and crashed them into the wall of the office. Ankles locked tight behind him, Jasmine hung on, as he grabbed her wrists and held them high above her head. Her breasts thrust towards him and he fastened his mouth on one, sucking the tender bud into an aroused and distorted mess of screaming nerves while he continued his ceaseless pounding rhythm into her cunt. Jasmine went wild. Her body writhed and her arms pulled, but Roberto was merciless. He held her arms above her with a grip of iron, and his cock kept her impaled. The movements he was generating were building incredible friction between his body and her nowswollen clit. It wouldn’t be long, she knew. Beads of sweat dropped from his nose as he hammered at her cunt. The sounds of his balls slapping and the liquid squish of her juices between them raised Jasmine’s level of arousal to fever pitch. Her thigh muscles tightened strongly enough to break ribs. “Oh god,” she yelped.

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She came in rolling, undulating waves of almost painful muscle spasms, bringing Roberto with her into his own sobbing orgasm. “Shit,” she said succinctly, sliding down the wall onto the carpet. For one of the few times in her life, sex had reduced her to limp mindlessness. Roberto was rapidly divesting himself of his used condom and restoring his clothing to rights. “Will there be anything else, Ma’am?” He grinned, looking down at the exhausted woman. “Not today, thank you Roberto,” she muttered. “You’re welcome, Ma’am.” He’d left with a smile before she realized he’d gone. Standing, she winced as a few muscles let her know that such activities were hell on the body. Juices ran freely down her leg, and she shivered with an after-shock of sorts. God she felt good. Slipping back into her sweater and cleaning up with a tissue, she made a mental note to herself to get Roberto permanently assigned to this floor and her office. He’d make a very nice late afternoon snack. She licked her lips.

***** It was dark in another office of Enchanted Cottage, Inc. too, and the janitors had already been and gone when Michael and Emma slipped up to Michael’s sixth floor home-away-from-home. Emma paused for a second, enjoying his view of the Charles River, and the lights of MIT across on the Cambridge side. “Em, come on. No time for daydreaming,” said Michael, already furiously tapping away at his keyboard. “I’m ready,” she announced.

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“Okay…here we go.” He hit ‘Enter’ and his screen lit up with an assortment of unintelligible jargon. “Ah yes, I see it now,” said Emma dryly. Michael chuckled. “This is the software that will encrypt my email to Jasmine—sort of like layering, really.” “Well, being a graphics designer, layering is a concept I can grab, but all this…” She waved her hand at the mumbo-jumbo on the screen. “That’s my side of the house, babe,” he quipped, typing rapidly. “Now I can send Jasmine email, and after a little while the text of the message will change to the one I want on record.” “Geez, Michael, is this legal?” “Haven’t a clue. But what she’s trying to do certainly isn’t, so my conscience is ok with it.” Emma nodded. “No arguments there, honey. But how do we know she’s seen it?” “Easy—simply change these parameters here to indicate ‘notify me when read’.” Clicking followed and symbols appeared and disappeared. “Now I’ll get a confirmation message that she’s read it, but she won’t know that’s happened. I’ve nipped that out of the code.” Emma pulled on her lower lip thoughtfully. “OK, I’m with you so far. But how do you know it’ll get to the right computer?” “Well, now, not to sound too brilliant about it, but I happen to know that each and every computer has a unique address. I’m not really sending it to Jasmine’s email, which could be diverted anywhere, I’m sending it to her in care of her particular computer. And once you get that little device plugged into her USB socket, bingo! Instant mail decoder.” “And that’s where I come in? Adding a plug to her USB outlet, and reattaching her input cable?” “Yep.”

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“You realize this will shut down her system?” “I’m counting on it. Rebooting is necessary to get everything working.” “And it won’t show up as new hardware when she reboots?” “Nope. Trust me, babe, I’ve worked this a dozen times over the last couple of days.” “So, to recap, your trusty sidekick—that’s me—finds an excuse to go into Jasmine’s office tonight before she leaves. At which point in time there will be a power outage, I reach behind the computer, unscrew her input cable, and reattach it with the sneaky thing added?” “It’s actually called an encryption dongle.” “Oh—forgive me. I should have used the correct terminology. I reattach the cable with the encryption dongle—are you kidding me on that name?” “I don’t jest in the middle of a mission. Trusty sidekicks are supposed to obey orders and believe the hero—don’t you read any spy thrillers?” “Mea culpa, Captain Dongle!” She giggled. “Okay, let’s just do this, shall we? Maybe we should synchronize watches, or something…” The butterflies in her stomach were beginning to make their presence felt, as Emma realized that the first stage of their plan was underway.

***** The hallway was dimly lit and the offices were quiet as Emma made her way to Jasmine’s door. A light showed underneath, indicating that Jasmine was still around as Michael had predicted. Blowing a silent breath between her teeth, Emma tapped lightly. “Come in,” answered Jasmine. “Hi Jasmine, sorry to bother you this late…” Emma’s hand nervously fingered the little metallic dongle buried deep in her pants pocket. “Well, little Emma. Come in, dear. I haven’t seen you in an age. How’s it going down in Graphic Arts?”

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Emma clenched her teeth at the somewhat patronizing tone of the older woman, who looked, surprisingly, like she’d just been rather well fucked. Her hair was slightly mussed, her lips were swollen, and her skirt seam was up the back of one buttock instead of dead center where it normally resided. “Oh—just fine, thanks. I’m surprised you’re still here…I thought just about everyone had gone for the holiday.” “Had a few things to finish up,” said Jasmine, piling a bunch of papers into a folder. “Now, what can I do for you? I guess you’ll be off shortly?” “Oh yes—I love four day weekends.” She gave Jasmine her very best gushinglywide-eyed-innocent look. “Actually, I needed some advice, and I knew you were the only person I could come to…” Jasmine raised her eyebrow. “I need…um…what I’d like to ask, if it’s not too personal…” “Oh come on dear, spit it out,” encouraged Jasmine with a bored wave of her hand. “Well, I’d really like to know where you get your…your clothes?” Jasmine tilted her head and looked at Emma, who’d perched herself on the corner of Jasmine’s computer desk. “My clothes?” “Yes, absolutely. You see, you’re always so beautifully dressed, so pulled-together, that I figured if I could at least take a look at where you shop, I might get some ideas about coordinating stuff, and particularly…” She leaned forward intently, and Jasmine leaned towards her, unable to resist the let’s-share-girl-stuff attitude that Emma was sending off in waves. “Particularly since the Christmas party is coming up…I really want something special for that.” She lowered her eyelashes and managed a shy blush. She also formulated her thank-you speech to the Academy when she received her award for best-supporting-actress-in-a-sidekick-role. “Well…” said Jasmine.

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Suddenly there was a power surge, followed by darkness. Michael had done his stuff. “Damnation,” muttered Jasmine reaching for her cell phone. “Oh dear,” said Emma, reaching behind Jasmine’s computer tower. Her hands found the cable immediately—Michael’s insistence on her doing this blindfolded several times had paid off. “Well, for heaven’s sake, have someone notify security and check those circuits…I don’t care…do you know who you’re talking to?” While Jasmine got into it with some poor desk guard, Emma quickly refastened the cable to the USB port, complete with its new feature. Now she could only hope that Michael’s technological expertise worked! She offered up a quick prayer to St. Intel, patron saint of Microchips and Motherboards. Within moments, the power flickered back on, and the hum of a rather unhappy computer filled the room. “Damn—now I’ll have to reboot,” muttered Jasmine as she rolled towards Emma. “Look, I’ll get out of your way, it sounds like you have lots to do here, and we’re all anxious to get away for the Thanksgiving holiday, I’m sure.” “Hmm,” murmured Jasmine as she ran the commands through her system. “Oh—Emma, try Fulton’s, over on Newbury Street. They have some nice dresses that you would probably like.” She continued working her system until a series of beeps and blinks announced that it was happily up and running again. “Thanks, Jasmine, I will,” answered Emma, trying not to make a mad dash for the door. “Have a nice holiday.” Emma left the door ajar, and as she moved down the silent hall, she heard Jasmine’s computer loudly announce, “You’ve got mail”. Emma grinned. She reached into her other pocket and found the handful of goldwrapped chocolates. Phase 2 was underway.

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Chapter 10 Jasmine’s eyebrows rose as she noticed the incoming email from Michael Gretty. Her palms tickled and a surge of adrenaline upped her heart rate. He’d taken her bait. “Jasmine,” he’d begun. “I’ve done a lot of thinking about what we discussed recently. The many things we discussed recently, including our mutual fascination with silk.” She licked her lips, remembering Michael’s silk boxers and the hungry cock she’d felt beneath them. She continued reading. “If you’re still of the same mind, look outside your door…you’ll find a trail which will lead you to a place where we might be able to discuss this matter more thoroughly. Signed, M. Gretty.” A slow smile of satisfaction curved Jasmine’s lips as she clicked the message over into her “Personal” folder and closed her email file. Michael had come to realize that he needed her. Needed her expertise to get ahead, needed her body (and ooh she was dying to try his on for size), and needed to share his source code with her to accomplish all these goals, and save his little “family” friend. Dear Emma, who was probably going to be dying of shock at Fulton’s prices within the hour! Perhaps little Emma would have to go anyway? No, it wouldn’t matter. When she gave her answer to the board at Thermo-Convection & Co., they’d be thrilled to offer her the Vice-Presidency. With the source code for Michael’s product, she could write her own contract, and Enchanted Cottage would sink like a rock into oblivion. She’d give Thermo-Convection a dynamite product and a dynamite VP to go along with it. Thank god he’d come through before her December deadline. Job offers like this vicepresidency didn’t come along very often. Michael would have to be part and parcel of the deal, too, she supposed. But he was good at what he did, and if he were as good with that cock of his, then it wouldn’t be a hardship at all. Yeah, the only hardship would be making sure he was available for her to snack on whenever she felt like a tasty fuck. She might have to work extra hard to overcome

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what might just be principles on Michael’s part. That would be a challenge. A fun challenge. Yes, life was sweet sometimes. Jasmine spent five minutes making sure she was tidy, frowning as she realized her skirt was crooked and her hair slightly loose. A quick trip to the powder room and all was in order. She stepped out into the hallway and looked around. “Hmm. Probably not his office, that would be too obvious,” she thought to herself, feeling a pleasant tingle of anticipation between her thighs. Then she spotted it. A little gold sparkle near one corner of the hallway. She moved over and found a little bar of chocolate, wrapped tastefully in gold foil. She looked around the corner and spotted another further down. She smiled, licking her lips. Michael Gretty and chocolate. My goodness, what a great start to the holiday season. Behind her, in the office she had left just moments before, a slight whirring sound indicated activity within the complex systems of her computer. Without any fuss or bother, an email was quietly rearranging ones and zeroes, which, in its clever little microchip mind was the equivalent of removing its jacket. Comfortable with the new arrangement, it hummed quietly, now content and no longer resembling the original message at all. Jasmine followed her trail of chocolate to the seventh floor and the executive suites. Here all was quiet. The soft evening lighting glittered off the little bars of chocolate, which led Jasmine to the impressive doors of Steven Talbot’s office. She knew Steven was away on a business trip to Japan and not expected back until early December. She mentally congratulated Michael on his choice of meeting places. Gingerly, she pushed the door wide and stared into the gloom. The only light was from a shaded desk lamp and the flickering computer screen, which added a blue tinge to the surfaces it touched. “Come in, Jasmine. Thanks for agreeing to meet with me,” said Michael formally. Jasmine smiled her Cheshire cat smile.

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***** Two floors below, in a quiet corner of the technical development lab, Emma sat at the controls of a remote-controlled webcam. She had checked and double-checked the controls, and had discovered that her “wasted” time spent playing video games in her teenage years was about to pay off. The small levers and buttons in front of her were not dissimilar to the Nintendo system she’d used many years ago. A devout Tetris fanatic, Emma had picked up the subtle movements with no trouble at all, and incidentally revived the major urge to play that challenging game again soon, if she could find a version she could handle. Realizing that Michael was saying something, she twiddled the volume control and his voice filled the room. “She should be here in a minute…this is a test. I hope you can hear me, because this will set the sound levels on the playback system,” Michael moved to sit on the edge of the desk, his back to the webcam and off to one side. Emma’s palms were a bit sweaty and she rubbed them down her thighs as she watched the sound monitor self-adjust. There was no way she could contact Michael at this point, he just had to pray that everything was in good working order. She turned the focus dial slightly, making sure that Michael’s jacket was clearly visible, even though the light levels were low. He was wearing a special coat they’d bought just for this purpose. Made of dark green tweed, it had beautifully tooled leather elbow patches with an insignia stamped on it. Several of Michael’s coworkers had commented on it. Short of showing his face on camera, this was the perfect method of identification. Emma grinned as she remembered modeling the jacket for Michael when they’d brought it home. He had definitely approved. Of course, the fact that she wasn’t wearing anything under the jacket but her own skin had added to the charm of the garment. Her nipples hardened as she recalled the silky soft slide of the lining over her breasts, and how quickly Michael had replaced it with his hands and his tongue.

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God, she loved that man. A click of his fingers drew her attention back to the screen. Jasmine had arrived. “Come in, Jasmine. Thanks for agreeing to meet with me.”

***** “Hello, Michael,” she purred. His body tightened and his heart rate accelerated. This wasn’t sexual, it was visceral. The response of a prey to its predator. He fought to keep his voice steady. “I’m glad I caught you before you left for the holiday,” he said. “Oh you caught me, all right…” Her eyes took in the tie lying loosely around his neck, and the open shirt, showing just a little of his lovely chest with its smattering of dark curly hair. She licked her lips and moved to rest opposite him on his desk. She couldn’t have picked a better spot, thought Michael jubilantly. Two floors below, Emma grinned maniacally. “So Michael, you wanted to see me?” She eased her buttocks onto the desk and leaned back a little, thrusting her breasts through the sweater. “I‘ve done a lot of thinking, Jasmine. But before I give you an answer, I’d like to know exactly what you have in mind for me.” “Oh, for us, Michael darling, for us!” Michael raised his brow. “Forgive me if I sound a bit skeptical, Jasmine. Your plan doesn’t lead me to believe that there’ll be much of an ‘us’ for long…” Jasmine smiled, and uncrossed her legs, widening them so that her hem would ride up over her silk thigh high stockings. Michael’s response was surprisingly limited. “Business, first, Jasmine,” he said firmly. Jasmine pouted. “Well, if you insist…” She wriggled her skirt even further up her thighs, knowing the sight of her bare pussy would soon reduce the man in front of her

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to a begging pile of hormones. Then, and only then, she might let him suck her off. Maybe. But for now, she was having lots of fun teasing him. “Let me see, ah yes…the source code, Michael. Let’s talk about the source code, seeing as you want to discuss business. That is what you want, isn’t it?” She batted her lashes and slid a fingertip into her mouth in a parody of an innocent gesture. Within seconds the glistening digit was down between her thighs, gently stroking the bare mound. On the fifth floor, Emma was glued to her monitor, watching the seductive witch practice her wiles on Michael. The two CD units were humming nicely. This was Internet porn site stuff. Whoa—interesting thought. Emma shrugged it off for the time being, and focused on her screen. “Now, the deal here is…let me make sure I get this right…” Flick, flick, went that finger. Michael fought his desire to watch the finger and kept his eyes on hers, willing his cock to behave itself. For once, it listened. “You and I, Michael, together with your source code, will quietly hand in our resignations to Enchanted Cottage. The patent hasn’t been issued, and your contract hasn’t got a confidentiality clause in it. So the code is yours, baby.” Her buttocks shifted slightly as her arousal grew stronger. The finger kept going, as the first scent of her juices swirled into the room. “Actually, I wasn’t going to tell you this yet, but I’ve had a fantastic offer from Thermo-Convection. They’re going to make me a Vice-President, as long as I bring something of value to the table. You, Michael…” She withdrew her shiny finger and pointed it at the man opposite her, “…you are definitely something of value!” The finger went back to its previous occupation. “And what about Enchanted Cottage?” asked Michael. “What about it? I told you before, that it doesn’t matter to me what happens to this place. It’s been fun for a few months, but I know a good thing when I see one. They can file Chapter 11, convert to widget-making, why should I care what the hell they do?”

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“People will lose their jobs, Jasmine. Doesn’t that bother you?” The look Jasmine gave Michael chilled his soul. “Not in the least.” In the darkened lab, Emma swallowed the anger back down into her throat as she tweaked a few knobs, making sure the image and reception were perfect. Michael shifted slightly as Jasmine moved on the table once more. Her skirt was now around her waist and she was blatantly widening her thighs, showing Michael (and the webcam behind him) her glistening labia that were swelling as her finger rubbed them. She was doing a fine job of arousing herself, confident in the knowledge that her sexuality was invincible, and the guy watching her masturbate would be all over her in minutes. Michael knew that in minutes he’d throw up. They had Jasmine cold, right where they wanted her, and yet he was still angry, furious, and horrified that anyone could be such a cold-blooded witch. “So, tell me. What do you think of my offer?” Jasmine slid her other hand down and spread her legs wide, making it clear that a business deal wasn’t the only one she was offering. Michael stood up, leading Jasmine to believe he was ready to take her. Emma knew it was her cue, and reached for her cell phone. The insistent chirp sounded through the speakers in the lab, and Emma smiled as she saw the expression of fury chase across Jasmine’s aroused features. “Michael Gretty,” said Michael smoothly, with the phone to his ear. “What’s that? Oh, hi Mom…” There was a muffled squawk at the other end of the line. “Yeah, I know…the traffic may have let up by then…you did? Okay, I’ll pick it up. Do you have the order number?” Emma nearly burst out laughing as she watched Jasmine’s face. She’d get Michael back later for calling her “Mom”, but for now, it was reward enough to watch Ms. Ain’t-I-got-the-best-pussy-in-creation turn into Ms. I-don’t-believe-you’re-not-gonnafuck-me.

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A small frown marred the perfection of Jasmine’s carefully plucked eyebrows, as she realized there was going to be no snacking on Gretty tonight. “I’m sorry, Jasmine, but duty calls. My Mom has a couple of pies on order from the bakery here in town, and I’m supposed to pick them up on my way home. I really have to cut this short. Perhaps I can get back to you soon?” Jasmine glared at him. “Make it soon, Michael. My offer won’t last. If you don’t come with me, I’ll bring this entire company down around your head.” The threat was real. Jasmine’s words completely negated the fact that she was sitting half-naked on a desk with her clit waving in the breeze. For that instant, she was the wickedest witch Michael could ever remember seeing, and the hair on the back of his neck stood up as goosebumps tickled their way across his skin. “I understand. Goodnight.” He couldn’t leave the room fast enough. Emma watched as Jasmine closed her eyes in frustration. Blowing out a long breath, she plunged her hands between her legs, stroking herself back to her high level of arousal. One hand slid up under her sweater, and Emma could see her pulling at her own nipples, first one then the other, until they stood out beneath the soft knit. Her legs spread even more, and Emma had a front row seat as Jasmine plunged three fingers deep inside herself. She was moaning slightly now, buttocks rocking on the desk. Her thumb was frantically rubbing at her clit as her fingers moved inside her cunt, the juices glistening in the reflected light of the monitor. In a strangely erotic way, it was almost as if Jasmine was playing to the computer. Then Emma realized—Jasmine could see her body reflected in the monitor. She was playing to the computer, only the audience was her own image. Or so she thought. It was only a few more moments until she gasped and clamped her thighs together hard. Her hand moved within their grip, still urging her orgasm on, and her head dropped forward. Her body shook as she came.

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Finally, she withdrew her hand, sticky with her own liquids. Sighing, she slid off the desk and grabbed a tissue. Emma turned off the webcam.

***** “Jesus, Em…” Michael slammed the front door behind them at almost the same time as he slammed Emma against the wall. “God, Michael…” This was clearly a religious moment for both of them as they struggled with each other’s clothes. “I need you so bad.” He jerked at her pants, popping the waist button and yanking the zipper roughly down. “No kidding,” said Emma, busy with her own challenge—undoing his belt buckle with fingers that were cold and clumsy. He gasped as her icy hand plunged into his pants. “Dear Lord, your hands are cold,” he groaned. “Ack,” she said, as he returned the favor and plastered both his chilly hands onto her naked buttocks. “And your point?” She grinned, noticing that the application of cold hands had had absolutely no effect whatsoever on his rampant erection. “I’ll probably remember what it was sometime…” muttered Michael, lifting her up and positioning himself at her moist entrance. “You want this, babe?” He stopped for a second or two, and looked up at Emma. Her heart melted. He could just as easily have plunged in balls-deep, she’d have welcomed him. But he didn’t. He asked. “God, I love you Michael Gretty. Stick that wonderful cock of yours into me and fuck me now before I die from wanting you,” she whispered. Needing no further encouragement, Michael sank home.

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They both paused, Emma deeply impaled on Michael’s throbbing cock, her back leaning against the wall and her legs tightly scissoring Michael’s hips. Michael’s hands supported her buttocks, as he started to move within her. Just little movements at first, because he was hampered by the rather unromantic feeling of his pants caught around his ankles. “Hang on, honey,” he muttered. With a wriggle that did exquisite things inside Emma, he toed off his shoes and kicked the offending clothing into a corner. “Now,” he breathed. “Now,” echoed Emma.

She hung on for dear life as his thrusts became more forceful and rhythmic. She didn’t know why he’d needed her so badly, she could only be happy that he did. Because, truth be told, she’d needed him too. Within seconds, she could feel Michael’s muscles turning to bands of steel as his body readied itself for an orgasm. She widened her legs and tightened her grip, taking as much of him as was humanly possible into her slick heat. She wouldn’t come with him this time, but that was just fine. She was enjoying the hell out of the ride. With a savage groan, Michael threw his head back and rammed into her, spurting his warm cum deep into her body. Shaking with the force of his orgasm, he leaned against her as his cock drained his essence from him. His head fell forward onto her shoulder. “Oh Em,” he muttered, letting her slide her legs back down to the floor. “I needed that so bad…” “Yeah, I kind of figured that,” she chuckled. He raised his head tiredly. “I didn’t take care of you, honey…God, I’m sorry. I’m a selfish bastard.” His eyes found hers. Emma ran her hands through his hair. “Michael Gretty, don’t you dare apologize. I love you, I love your cock, I love the way you fuck me, and if you want to take me up against a wall any time, feel free to do so. It was,” she grinned, “rather fun.”

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They eased themselves apart and gathered up the tumbled clothing. “I guess I just needed to feel something…something…clean, you know?” said Michael thoughtfully, as he slipped back into his boxers. “Listening to Jasmine tonight made me feel so damn dirty.” Emma agreed. “She does have that effect, doesn’t she?” Michael held the CD boxes in his hands. “Well, we’d better grab food and I’ll throw on some coffee. We have our work cut out for us, honey.” “Don’t I know it,” said Emma leading the way into the kitchen with just her blouse covering her nicely rounded buttocks. “I’ll make sandwiches…” She stood before the counter, busily dealing with vegetables and cold cuts, while her mind ran through the tasks ahead. Suddenly a warm back plastered itself up against her and two now-warm hands slid under the shirt to cup her breasts. “Ooomph,” she stuttered, scaring a tomato slice to death. “You got that bit right, babe. The coffee’s perking, and I figured you might be, too, seeing as how I was a horribly selfish pig just now and didn’t make sure my significant other was satisfied.” “You’ve been reading my magazines, again, haven’t you?” said Emma. “Who me?” answered Michael innocently. His hands unbuttoned her shirt and pulled it aside. One hand slid up to caress a waiting nipple, the other slid down to warm her pussy. Thank heavens for front closing bras. Whoever invented them (and it had to be a guy) should be canonized. “Mmm,” she hummed, leaning back against her man and closing her eyes in enjoyment. “Very tasty,” murmured Michael. “But wait, there’s more…” he added in his best infomercial voice. Emma jumped as she realized that half a tomato was fondling her nipple. Michael had reached over, squeezed the center from the tomato she’d been slicing, and put the empty shell over her sensitive flesh.

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The sensation was incredible. Cool and soft, the moist tomato was zinging her nerve endings right down to her clit. Speaking of which, Michael was proving himself to be a man of amazing dexterity. While keeping the tomato busy with her nipple, he’d picked up a smooth green pepper with his other hand. She looked at it cautiously. “Tell me if you don’t like this,” he murmured, biting her ear lobe and swirling his tongue inside at the exact moment he pressed the cool pepper against her hot clit. She moaned, loudly. “Oh Michaelllll…” He smiled, noting how she was moving slightly against the firm vegetable. “Got any cucumber?” Her eyes flew open. “No. Absolutely not. I do draw the line somewhere, you know…” she sputtered. “Just kidding, sweetheart, just kidding,” chuckled Michael. “Carrots will do nicely,” he said, tossing the pepper in the sink and reaching to the tidy pile of carrot sticks. “Er—Michael?” He snickered. “God, you’re a tease,” she said. His fingers returned to her anxious clit, stroking, loving, flicking, caressing. The hand holding the tomato slid down and he pressed it against her tissues, mixing the juices together. He turned her and slid to his knees before her, taking a huge swipe with his tongue at every bit of her pussy he could reach. “Mmm. Emma Marinara.” She came shortly thereafter, and from that day on couldn’t order tomatoes with her sandwiches without creaming her panties.

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Chapter 11 The picture they made as they lay tangled together on the bed would have been decadent in the extreme, had it not been for the fact that Michael was wearing a grubby pair of sweat pants, and Emma was sprawled in a long T-shirt that touted the virtues of chocolate. It was almost five in the morning the day after Thanksgiving, and many alarm clocks were already going off to alert shoppers that the frenzy would start within the hour. No alarm was going off next to the bed in which Michael and Emma slept. For the last thirty hours or so, they’d slaved over their task. While almost everyone else in the entire country was devouring a good portion of the world’s population of turkeys, and letting their belts out after second helpings of stuffing and cranberry sauce, Michael and Emma had worked. Emma had developed a permanent kink in between her shoulder blades and her right hand assumed the mouse clicking position all by itself. Michael’s throat was sore. But they had done it. That was the first thought through Emma’s mind as she staggered back to consciousness after only a couple hours of sleep. Used to waking at this hour, her body didn’t care what time she’d actually dropped off into dreamland, it just knew it was time to wake—what Emma did after that was her business. Her body considered that its work was done for the day. Michael still snored softly next to her, drooling slightly. Her heart bounced as she recognized that, drooling or not, this was the love of her life. Without a doubt. It was a moment of blinding enlightenment. If she hadn’t been so exhausted, she might have relished it more, but as it was, she simply smiled at herself and eased out of bed. Coffee was a necessity. While it perked, she wandered back into the office, and ran her fingers over the shiny CD packages that were waiting for Phase 3 of their diabolical plot. It would work—it just had to, there was too much riding on this. Emma felt scared for a few

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minutes. Just knowing that she and Michael were going to be responsible for either saving or losing a lot of people’s jobs was enough to make her shiver. A warm body enfolded her in strong arms. “Good morning, my lovely, what are you doing in here? Didn’t you get enough yesterday?” Emma chuckled. “Michael, I got enough of this stuff to last me a lifetime.” She waved her hands at the sophisticated computer systems that littered the desk and table as she turned within his arms. “I didn’t, however, get enough of something else.” His lips curled and his eyes crinkled into a slow smile. Combined with his tousled hair and beard stubble, he looked hot enough to melt wax! Not to mention the fact that an enormously eager erection was tenting his low slung sweat pants. “And what would that be, my lovely lady,” he breathed, running his hands over her shoulders. She moved closer and pressed her hand around his hard length. It grew even more, peeping out over his loosely tied pants and looking hopefully her way. “Oh a little of this, a little of that…” she answered, running her fingers around his waistband and over the moistening tip of his cock. Michael hummed with pleasure. “Well, let’s see if we can remedy the situation.” Instead of turning to the bedroom, Michael plopped himself down into his leather office chair. It was armless and perfect for long hours at the computer. It was also perfect for long hours under Emma. He unfastened the tie of his pants and slid them down in a rush. Emma’s body reconsidered its earlier opinion of having finished work for the day. Within seconds, Emma’s t-shirt had joined Michael’s sweats on the floor, and she was straddling him, lowering herself gently onto his length and groaning as she felt him go deep into her waiting channel. The scent of sex joined the scent of perking coffee and for a while, the office was filled with the sounds of soft slow loving, rather than hard backbreaking work.

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***** This was it. The day had arrived. The third day of the long holiday weekend and she and Michael were acting like they were about to invade a small independent nation. They should have been stuffed with Thanksgiving food and rolling around a shopping center somewhere, contributing to the national debt by maxing out their credit cards on all sorts of things they’d never need. But no, they were waiting to get a signal that their plan was working. She almost giggled as she wondered if Hannibal had felt this way when he first saw the Alps. God, where was an elephant when you needed one? Emma tried to finish her coffee, but it was a struggle. A major attack of nerves had her pacing the kitchen, going back and forth to the office, waiting for that email that would let them know “Operation Roast the Wietsch” was a go. So far, everything had followed the plan they had laid out. Michael had spent an hour on the phone the day before with several top-line managers, and had personally stopped by to visit with Charles Clifford, the Chairman of Enchanted Cottage. A box of the finest chocolates sat on the desk, waiting to play its part in today’s activities—tempting, but for once, (and probably the only time in her entire life) Emma wasn’t lured by their siren song. Just buying the chocolates had been an exercise in frustration. There wasn’t a parking spot within two miles of the store, and when they finally got near enough to actually see a counter with salespeople behind it, the wait for service had been measured in eons. With all the other things that they had on their schedule, standing in line about a half-mile from the door of a chocolatier was not something she particularly enjoyed. It had taken all of Michael’s charm and skill to calm her down when the woman behind her continually whacked into her ankles with an overloaded stroller, and the teens ahead of them were busily showing each other their body piercings. She shook her head at the memory, and thanked heaven that they’d accomplished all they set out to do.

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The tell-tale chime of an incoming email sent Emma’s heart into her throat, and she dashed into the office where Michael was already opening it. “Glad you’ve come to your senses, I’ll meet you there…” he read. He bowed his head and breathed slowly for a moment or two. “Oh shit,” said Emma. “We’ve got her.”

***** Jasmine Wietsch was on top of the world. She’d picked up her new sports car yesterday, and found that it truly was “engineered like no other car in the world”. She passed a caressing hand over its sleek finish as she parked in her reserved space in the Enchanted Cottage garage. There were few other cars nearby as it was the Saturday of the Thanksgiving weekend. Doubtless everyone would be busy doing their family and shopping things. Thank God she didn’t have to worry about any of that. No, she could focus completely on the two things she knew would make her life complete—getting the best job possible and getting fucked. By this time Monday, she mused, she’d be accepting the offer of a Vice-presidency with one of the most prestigious high-tech firms in town. And her personal trainer had proved himself to be an excellent weight lifter—he’d lifted her body clean off the exercise mat three times this morning. No mean feat seeing as she’d been clamped around his huge cock at the time. Yes, things were certainly going well—all her ducks were lining up quite nicely. Now if she could only get a piece of Michael Gretty! He was turning into quite an obsession, she realized. Pushing the button for her floor, Jasmine thought about Michael as the elevator made its silent way into the recesses of Enchanted Cottage. She’d like to know if Michael fucked as well as he developed products. He had that certain look about him, like a man who knew what to do with and for a woman, but

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also one that could be trusted. She wondered if he’d ever been tied up…or if he’d like to tie her up. She smiled. She’d rather like that, she thought. The elevator dinged for her attention and disgorged her into the hallway leading to her office. She’d decided to go there first, because she wanted to leave her coat and bag there, but also because Michael’s email had told her to begin “following the trail” from there. She was curious, wondering if more chocolates were involved. Of course, she wouldn’t eat them. She’d had some of the last batch, and that’s why she’d needed a trip to the gym, which, come to think of it, hadn’t turned out too badly. Maybe she could afford to indulge her chocolate obsession a little more. Working it off was fun. Taking care of the few matters that awaited her in her office took no more than a minute or two. She turned off the light and moved into the hallway, a gleam of excitement in her cool blue eyes. These were the sorts of games she adored. The first thing that met her gaze was a carefully wrapped object, tucked almost around the corner leading to the stairwell. She smiled, recognizing the distinctive colors of her favorite chocolatier. It appeared Michael Gretty’s tastes in women and chocolate were getting to be first class. The next chocolate was on the stairs, just visible through the dim lighting. It was past five o’clock now, and quite dark outside. Another chocolate waited outside the door to the eighth floor. The only things up here were the conference room, and the offices of the board members. Surely Michael wouldn’t be that bold—or would he? Jasmine’s breathing sped up as she saw another confection glittering outside the large double doors to the boardroom. Oh yes—Michael was going to make this so good!

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Jasmine eased off her suit jacket and unsnapped the fastener to her wrap skirt. If Michael had gone to all this trouble, the least she could do would be to make it worth his while. She pushed the right hand door to the conference room open, and stood for a second, knowing the light behind her was framing her slim body. She held her skirt and jacket out to the side and deliberately dropped them in a pile on the floor bringing her hand back to her hip and sliding it down her thigh. Her fragile chiffon bustier hid nothing at all, simply cupping her breasts, and revealing her pink nipples that were tightening over their frame of black lace. The black garter belt and thong were vivid punctuation marks on her pale skin. Her legs went on for miles and the black stockings merely emphasized their shapely length. She raised her hand casually to her head, pulled out a pin and tossed it onto the clothes. Widening her legs in invitation she tossed her head and let her hair tumble down around her nakedness. She smiled, aroused and excited. Slowly, she unwrapped one of the chocolates she’d held on to, and slid it into her mouth, licking her lips in appreciation and murmuring softly as the sweetly dark taste slid down her throat. She was one sexually irresistible woman, and she knew it. “Hello Michael,” she purred.

***** “Hello Michael” purred Jasmine’s voice. Jasmine froze at the echo. She could see Michael leaning against a table, and beside him was the wall mounted LCD display that was used to impress the Board members. It served as a fully functional computer monitor, DVD player, and also made a superb Playstation 2 screen, for after those occasional late Friday brainstorming sessions when George from Quality Control remembered to bring in “Final Fantasy X”. At this moment, it was emitting a soft glow, obviously on, but with a blank screen.

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“I’m glad I caught you before you left for the Holiday,” said Michael’s voice. “What’s going on?” said Jasmine sharply, letting the door swing shut behind her. “So, Michael, you wanted to see me?” “Michael, this is not funny. What game are you playing?” The silent figure beside the monitor stood and clicked a button. Jasmine gasped as her image filled the screen. She watched herself wriggle onto the top of a desk and spread her legs. It seemed to be Steven Talbot’s office, the other night…but…it hadn’t been that bright. There’d been only a desk lamp on. Now, the image was crystal clear, as if all the fluorescent lamps were on, and the sun had shone in the window. Every single detail, every revealing inch of flesh, was glowing on the high-resolution screen, clear as day! “I’ve done a lot of thinking, Jasmine. I really don’t like what you suggested to me…” “Oh, it’s for us, Michael darling, for us!” “Wait a minute…” said Jasmine frowning, mesmerized by her image as it seductively showed more and more of her crotch. “You said it was business, Jasmine,” came Michael’s voice over the speakers. All twelve recessed home-theater, state-of-the-art speakers. “Why must you insist?” The skirt went higher and now Jasmine’s glisteningly bald mound was clearly on display. “Let me see, ah yes…the source code, Michael. Let’s talk about the source code, seeing as you want to discuss business. That is what you want, isn’t it?” The words she’d spoken were coming back to Jasmine. How the hell had he… “Now, the deal here is…let me make sure I get this right…You and I, Michael, together with your source code, will quietly hand in our resignations to Enchanted Cottage. The patent hasn’t been issued, and your contract hasn’t got a confidentiality clause in it. So the code is yours, baby.” “Michael, what’s your goal here?” Jasmine raised her chin. “Blackmail? I’m surprised you’d stoop so low.”

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“Actually, I wasn’t going to tell you this yet, but I’ve had a fantastic offer from ThermoConvection. They’re going to make me a Vice-President, as long as I bring something of value to the table. You, Michael…you are definitely something of value!” “God, Jasmine! Haven’t you got a thought to spare for this company? What about all the people here at Enchanted Cottage? You’d just let the entire company collapse?” “What about it? I told you before, that it doesn’t matter to me what happens to this place. It’s been fun for a few months, but I know a good thing when I see one. They can file Chapter 11, convert to widget-making, why should I care what the hell they do?” “Wait a minute…” sputtered Jasmine. “What you said, I don’t recall…” “So, tell me. What do you think of my offer?” By this time, Jasmine’s finger had worked herself into a very obvious state of arousal. At any other time she would have enjoyed the sight and possibly joined in, but now she was steaming mad. Her skin flushed and she could have sworn the temperature in the room was rising. “I think it stinks, Jasmine,” came Michael’s voice. “And you know why? Because this company has treated you like a queen. And you repay them by trying to steal their number one product and not giving a damn if they go down the tubes, just as long as you get your Vice Presidency.” The expression of exasperation on Jasmine’s face fit in perfectly with Michael’s words. “You never said…” interrupted Jasmine. “I can’t believe you’d try and pull a stunt like this. What’s the matter with you?” Michael’s voice, raised in outrage filled the room. “And you actually think I’d accept your offer?” “Michael, if you don’t come with me, I’ll bring this entire company down around your head.” “That’s outrageous. I never said half those things. You’ve done something to this…this…travesty,” spat Jasmine angrily. “Indeed he has, Ms. Wietsch,” came a voice from behind her. “He brought it to us.” Michael clicked his remote and turned on the lights in the room.

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There, facing Jasmine and her Frederick’s of Hollywood lingerie, were five members of the board of directors, one administrative assistant, and Emma Hansell.

***** “You…you…bastard!” she hissed, rounding on Michael in fury. “I never said any of those things. That’s a complete and absolute lie. All of it.” She whirled back to the board members, oblivious to the fact that she was wearing her underwear, and not much of that. Her skin was getting redder and redder as the heat of her anger grew. “He called me to his office…it was his idea to get together on this. I had no clue about what he wanted, other than an affair. He’d made that plain when he came to my house on the Cape a couple of weekends ago.” Her hands waved wildly in Michael’s direction and she stalked over and ripped the remote control out of his hands. She killed the frozen image of herself sitting wantonly on the desk. Thinking furiously, she grabbed onto one idea that might get her off the hook. “Let me show you his email…I can access it from here…that’ll prove what I’m saying.” She busily clicked around until she pulled up her own computer from the shared network. Her personal email file appeared and she immediately opened the mail from Michael. Emma held her breath as the screen filled with text. “Jasmine, I’m afraid I’m not at all comfortable with what you proposed the other weekend at your house on the Cape. I’m not in favor of sexual liaisons at the office, and I owe my allegiance to Enchanted Cottage, along with my source code. If there’s a chance I can talk you out of this plan, I’ll be finishing up a few chores in Steven Talbot’s office for the next hour or so…If there’s any possibility I can persuade you to rethink this plan, let me try, please. We can always discuss it more thoroughly. Signed, M. Gretty “ Jasmine’s jaw dropped and for one of the few times in her life she was speechless. Her eyes remained fixed on the text, the screen clearly showing that the email was from

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Michael to Jasmine, and the date and time which was jumping out at everyone who was eagerly reading it. “But…but…” she stuttered. “Ms. Wietch!” came a commanding voice from behind the conference table. Jasmine’s skin turned even redder, and she swung around to where Emma was picking up the discarded skirt and jacket. “You…you…both of you set me up!” she hissed. Michael raised one brow in polite query. “You and that cunt you hang around with…” Michael blinked at such crass language in the boardroom. “You fucking bitch…” Jasmine turned her venom on Emma. “Think you’re so fucking smart, do you? Well, let me tell you, Emma Hansell, you’ll rue the day our paths crossed. Think I don’t know you’re screwing family?” She nodded Michael’s way. “What do you think they’ll say when they hear about that, huh?” She waved a hand towards the other men in the room. “I expect they’ll congratulate me, Jasmine,” answered Emma with her sweetest smile. “You’re absolutely right. I am screwing family. At least I am now…” Emma leaned forward, dumped the clothes on the table and brandished her left hand in Jasmine’s face. “As of yesterday, Michael and I were married! I guess you’d call that screwing family, wouldn’t you? Oh, and the name is Emma Hansell-Gretty…” The light sparkled off the tasteful diamond and gold bands on Emma’s third finger and the large number of teeth she was displaying with her smile. Once again, Jasmine was dumbstruck. Emma indicated the clothes. “You’d better put these on, Jasmine. I think the Board wants a word with you.” Michael moved towards the door. Emma leaned over and grabbed the chocolates from the folds of Jasmine’s jacket. “I’ll take these, though. People with thighs like yours shouldn’t eat chocolate!”

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***** “That,” said Michael, as the door swung closed behind them, “…was harsh. Very harsh.” Emma grinned and unwrapped one of the chocolates, experiencing bliss as she popped it into her mouth. She nodded. Then she pulled Michael against her and shared an open mouthed kiss, which included the flavor of the smoothest bittersweet chocolate, Michael, and his wife Emma. “Mmmm,” she hummed, pulling back and licking her lips. Michael leaned over and swiped a chocolate smear from her upper lip with his tongue. “Mmm is right.” He smiled, hugging Emma tight to him. “What do you think the board’ll do to her, Michael?” “You mean after she tries to pull a ’poor-me-I-was-set-up’ defense?” “Knowing Jasmine, it’s more likely to be a ’let-me-off-the-hook-and-I’ll-fuck-the-lotof-you’ defense,” replied Emma acerbically. “Well, whatever she tries, Clifford will have none of it. She betrayed this company and she was going to our competitors, Thermo-Convection. Either one of those would be enough to hang her in his eyes. Both together? Is tar-and-feathering still legal?” “Haven’t a clue.” Emma hugged her husband back. “But I know that applying chocolate and removing it with one’s tongue still is.” She slanted a quizzical look at Michael from under her eyebrows. He looked—interested. “And while I was in the chocolatier the other day, I bought a couple of interesting things…” Michael looked—very interested. “Let’s go home. Now.”

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Chapter 12 It was the Friday before Christmas, and once again, Jasmine Wietsch was moving through nearly deserted corridors towards her old office at Enchanted Cottage Inc. She’d been asked to come in and clear out her ’stuff’ at this time so that no one would cross paths with her—the Christmas festivities were beginning at the Copley Plaza hotel, and just about everyone from the company was attending. She’d be quite alone. It was bad enough that she’d pulled into her space in a rental—a Ford, yet—the leasing company having “heard” that she’d lost her job and decided that another customer for their finely-engineered sports number would be a better bet. Then there was the question of job offers. There weren’t any! It was definitely time to move on, mused Jasmine. This town was just about played out. All the office doors were noticeably closed, and, she supposed, locked tight. Anyone would have thought she was going to come in and loot the joint. She was surprised that security had passed her through without an escort, just telling her that her office was unlocked but not to close the door, because the combination had been changed and she wouldn’t be able to get back in. Oh, and of course, her computer was off-network. Of course. Lip curled, Jasmine stalked into what was once her office. Some kind soul had put a couple of boxes on her desk. Probably couldn’t wait to see the back of her. She sat in the familiar chair, and paused in a moment of unusual (for her) retrospection. She was really, truly, cooked! Stick-a-fork-in-her-she’s-done kind of cooked. And she knew it. She looked at the desk and remembered Max lifting her skirt and driving deep inside her as she bent over it. No-one knew where Max was—but she’d heard rumors about the Western part of the state. She idly opened her desk drawer and started tossing some of the contents into the empty cardboard box. With a sigh, she grabbed the drawer and tipped everything in,

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willy-nilly. Her files, of course, were empty. Her box of feminine supplies was left in the bottom desk drawer, along with a half used box of condoms. That was it. She stuffed those two items into the box and, as an afterthought, grabbed the box of tissues as well. Why not, she asked herself. Might as well have something to show for her time at this piss-ant little hell-hole. A sound caught her attention. A bucket was being rolled outside in the corridor. Jasmine’s spirits lifted. Roberto! Just what she needed right about now—a good driving fuck to get her brain back in gear, and he was just the guy to give it to her, hard and fast, the way she liked it. Licking her lips she stood and eased one hip onto her desk, waiting for Roberto to peek in around the door. But it wasn’t Roberto. It was another janitor, one she hadn’t seen before. And with him were two other janitors. They didn’t knock, they just came right in and smiled at her. “Hey Countess…” said their leader, the short one whose overalls weren’t quite up to the task of keeping his belly under restraint. “See, I told you it was her…” said the skinny one, who had to be seventy if he was a day, as he nudged the third. “Jeez, Mario, I think you’re right…” said number three, running his eyes up and down Jasmine and swallowing. His Adam’s apple bobbed hugely, and his eyes, behind horn rimmed glasses, gleamed. The effect was slightly offset by a very noticeable squint. “I don’t know who you are, but I think you’ve made a mistake. I’m Jasmine Wietsch,” said Jasmine, at her most arrogant. “Oh no, lady, no mistake. You’re her, alright… Pretty as Roberto said, ain’t she Frank?” said Mario with a leer. “Roberto? You know Roberto?” Jasmine tried to keep the squeak out of her voice. “Oh yeah, lady,” said Frank. “He’s spent many a night helping us pass the time by telling us all about you…”

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“And then there’s the Internet thing, too,” added number three. “What Internet thing?” sputtered Jasmine, trying to keep up with their disjointed conversation. “You know…” grinned Mario. “So how about it, lady? You gonna make us all happy campers? You know, give us our Christmas bonus? You’re leaving, right, so it won’t matter none to anyone…” He reached for his overall fly and unzipped it, allowing a rather poor excuse for a penis to emerge. The other two spread their legs and put their hands on their crotches, rather like a squad of sex perverts in the “at ease” position. Jasmine slid off her desk and into her leather chair. This must be hell. No flames, no pitchforks, just three grubby men waiting for her to fuck them. No more sports car, no job, no Max Wolfe, no Roberto. No lovely long cock waiting to send her into multiple orgasms, just Winken, Blinken and Nod looking hopeful and holding their dicks. She leaned forward and banged her forehead on the shining surface of what was once her desk. Three times.

***** Half a world away, Emma Gretty was about to come. She was on her stomach, lying across a giant patio lounger, with a pillow under her and Michael Gretty behind her. He was thrusting deep into her pulsing warmth. One hand fondled her clit in that harsh/gentle way she loved, and the other was running over her spine in long arousing strokes. She raised her shoulders and pulled at her nipples with her own anxious fingers, the extra sensation being just what she needed to send her over the top. “Now Michael…” she yelled, arching and clamping his cock all the way to her womb. Michael pushed and thrust as deep as he could and as the sound of her yell faded, Michael took over, shouting his orgasm and pumping himself dry within her. They collapsed onto each other, panting, sweating, and content.

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The air was soft and warm, and the little patio of their private beach cottage shaded by huge hibiscus bushes. The sound of the ocean just a few steps away on their own little secluded beach lulled them to sleep each night. “God I love this place,” said Emma stretching luxuriously. “Mmm…me too,” said Michael, leaning over and licking a drop of sweat off his wife’s nipple. “I don’t know how we’re ever going to thank Charles Clifford for this honeymoon…a whole month in Paradise,” she purred. “Well, I think he felt he owed us. After all, we did save the company for him.” “Yeah, that’s us. Superman and the missus,” giggled Emma. “I wonder what will happen to Jasmine…” “Who cares? I don’t. I must admit I’m curious about Max Wolfe, though, I wonder what he’s up to?” Emma looked self-conscious. “Oh, didn’t I tell you?” “Tell me what?” “I got a call just before we left, from an old friend of mine who is working in Massachusetts now. She owns a little publishing company out in the western part of the state, and needed a good accountant. Apparently Max had applied for the job and had mentioned me as a reference…” “Really?” Michael’s eyebrow raised. “I can’t see Wolfe in a little Berkshire town, playing accountant for some tiny outfit. He’s more the big city honcho, I would have thought.” Emma chuckled. “It does boggle the mind, doesn’t it? Anyway, say what you like, he’s a good accountant. And I have a feeling that Anna wanted him to fill in as an editor too. Can’t you just see Max Wolfe reading romance manuscripts?” They looked at each other and burst out laughing. A ding from the living room caught Michael’s attention. “Oops…email. Probably just George filling me in on the progress of the product. I’ll check it.”

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Michael left, and Emma stretched again, loving the feeling of the late day sunshine against her naked skin. There was a lot to be said for nudity. Well, there was if you lived in Hawaii, that is. “Hey Em, c’mere a sec, honey…” called Michael. “Everything OK?” “You’re not going to believe this…” Michael was busily typing at his laptop. “George emailed me the information, and everything’s going well, but then he said to check out this site – it’s xxx-rated, hang on…” More clicking and typing ensued as Michael copied the password into the slot provided. “He said we might want to see it…and I can’t imagine why George would send us something like…like…oh my God…” Emma gasped, then bit her lips and turned away to hide her laughter. Under the boldly flashing neon headline “The Countess of Cunt” sat Jasmine, legs spread wide apart, finger toying with her very prominent clit. “How the hell did this get out?” sputtered Michael, remembering how cautious they’d been. Emma shook her head in wide-eyed bewilderment. It wouldn’t do to tell Michael that she’d shared more than references with Anna. That a certain image file might also have been transferred to the accounting department of a small Berkshire publishing house. It seemed Max had his revenge after all. “Do you know they want nine ninety-five for the rest of this footage?” Michael turned in outrage to Emma. “They’re getting rich…off our tape!” “Let it go, Michael,” she soothed. “But we worked so damn hard—you pulled every bit of ambient light down and spent all those hours getting the visuals right! Not to mention the number of times I rerecorded the dialogue to get everything in sync with the movements!” Michael shook his head as he recalled their hours of labor. “And now someone’s making money, hand over fist, for sticking it on the Internet!”

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“Michael, let it go. That footage served our purpose. I don’t care what happens to it now. It’s no longer part of our lives.” He turned and looked up at her, then relaxed and smiled. “You’re right, babe.” He pulled her into his arms and sat her across his lap, leaning back and tucking her head into his neck. His hand gently caressed her breast. “Emma?” “Hmmm?” “Do you think we’ll live happily ever after?” Emma smiled. “I have you…and you have me. We also have chocolate. There’s not a doubt in my mind.” And she was right…they lived happily ever after.

The End And the moral of this story? Good girls get the guy (and the chocolate). Bad girls get an Internet website. Choose carefully.

Sahara Kelly

Hansell and Gretty

Also by Sahara Kelly

Alana’s Magic Lamp The Sun God’s Woman Inside Lady Miranda

Ellora’s Cave www.ellorascave.com

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