Chapter 2
Six months ago, I was a completely different person. The person that I was then was so different from who I am now, that it's hard for me to believe that we were actually the same individual.
I was a well-paid media consultant at one of the country's biggest advertising agencies. Although it was a famous firm, the truth was that we were in big, big trouble.
Billings were falling off drastically, and we were losing longtime clients left and right. It wasn't hard to see why. Company management was stodgy and old-fashioned and out of touch with what was really happening.
That's why I was glad to hear that the company had taken on Matthew Slade to set things right. It was the smartest move that management could have made.
Slade was a golden boy, a managerial wizard and troubleshooter who had set plenty of failing companies back on their feet and put them back in the black.
Matt called a big meeting of the department heads on the first Monday morning that he came to the agency.
I was ready in more ways than one. A woman in my postition has to walk a tightrope. I mean, I have to look attractive, but not so attractive that nobody will be able to keep their minds on business. I couldn't dress too provocatively, because that would be unbusiness-like. But I couldn't dress in too stiff and severe a style either.
Let me be honest. I'm smart and savvy and talented, but so are thousands of others in this city. You need something more than talent to get ahead.
Well, I had something extra, namely, the beautiful body that Nature gave to me. In all modesty, if I ever posed in the nude for a men's magazine, I would definitely be the centerfold of the year.
I've got firm, large, beautiful breasts, with soft pink nipples that men love to suck on. I've got the elegant face of a high-fashion model, and the voluptuous body of a pin-up queen.
I know I'm beautiful, and I use it. In a profession like advertising, where your colleagues will cheerfully cut your throat to get ahead, a girl has to use everything she's got just to stay in the game.
More than once, I've worked my way up the corporate ladder by sleeping with men who had the power to promote me. I once went to bed with a mannish lady executive to get a job that I really wanted.
Of course, if I didn't have the talent, I'd never get the job no matter who I laid. Because that's the way that the system works.
A few times, I've used my body to worm my way into the confidence of those more powerful than me. Sooner or later, they slip up and tell me something that I can use to my benefit.
It's not very nice, but that's the way it is. The world isn't very nice, and I'm just one small bit of it, trying to get everything I can. In other words, I'm the same as everybody else
-I look out for number one. Me.
Sometimes I don't even have to fuck anybody to get what I want. Just the implied promise of my ultimate surrender is often enough to get an executive to come across with what I want, whether it's a raise, a favor, or a promotion.
Most men are stupid. They're lousy in bed, the world's worst, but all I have to do is moan and cry and fake an orgasm, and suddenly they think they're Casanova.
What a laugh. Most of these guys are good for about five minutes worth of action in bed, ten minutes tops. Which is okay with me, because the sooner it's over, the better.
Their idea of foreplay is to squeeze my breasts. Then I'm supposed to faint with passion and spread my legs for them.
Almost all of these self-styled studs have a little wife and a couple of kids tucked away in suburbia, of course.
If you ask me, these wives are probably getting some off the local tennis pros or delivery boys. I sure hope they are, because the way that their husbands fuck, it's obvious that they won't be getting much excitement from them.
At the agency, I like to keep the men around me in a constant state of sexual excitement, which isn't hard, because they're the horniest guys you ever saw.
A couple of the lady executives are hot for me, too. Of course, they have to be more discreet, because of the old hypocritical double-standard.
Anyway, I was well-prepared to make a good impression on Matt Slade. Slade was a big man who was going places in a hurry, and I figured that if I played my cards right, I just might go there with him.
On the Monday of the meeting, I bathed and dressed with special care. Like I said, I had to look good, but not so sexy that it was unprofessional.
My hair was freshly shampooed and shining. My breasts were confined in a tight bra which lifted them and cupped them like it was offering them up for the pleasure of others.
I wore a sheer, white silk blouse. It was so sheer that anybody could see my bra right through it, and my nipples visibly pressed against the bra cups.
Over the blouse, I wore a tailored blazer. It covered me so that only a thin section of my blouse was visible between the twin flaps of the coat.
That was better, more tantalizing. I wore a tight gray skirt with a hemline which came down to the center of my knees.
The skirt had fashionable slits up the side, which gave a nice teasing view of my legs when I moved. I put on a pair of high-heeled shoes to complete the outfit.
I was pleased with my reflection in the full-length mirror in my apartment. "Let's see if you can resist this, Mr. High-and-Mighty Slade!" I said to myself.
The meeting was held at ten o'clock that morning. The department heads and the top advisors and consultants sat around a big table, waiting for Slade to arrive.
He came into the meeting room at a few seconds before ten. He strode through the doors and took his seat at the head of the table without the slightest hesitation.
He was much different from what I expected. I had seen his picture in some of the trade journals, but he was much handsomer in person.
Physically, he looked more like an oil-rig roughneck or a jet pilot than an executive. He was strong and tan and his face was a mass of square planes.
He didn't waste any time getting down to brass tacks. He sounded like a preacher giving a hellfire sermon as he ripped into the inefficiency and downright stupidity that had brought the agency to its present sad state.
I found myself nodding in agreement with him. He was making the same points that I had noticed myself. The difference was, he had the power to call the shots and back up his judgements.
His pale eyes burned like lasers as he raised hell. Some of the executives around me were pale and trembling before he was finished.
I wasn't particularly worried. I knew that my department was one of the bright spots in the bleak agency picture.
If Slade was stupid enough to fire me, that was his loss. I could take my portfolio to any other agency and get hired on the spot.
Slade concluded his talk by saying that he had been hired to kick ass, and by God, he was going to kick ass if that's what it took to get the agency back on the right track.
You could smell the fear when the meeting broke up and the executives shuffled back to their offices.
Slade spent the rest of the day meeting with the department heads in his office. He called them in one at a time. You should have seen the scared, sweating faces of them as they came out of his office!
I was scheduled to meet with him that afternoon. I was happy with the way that things were working out. I would be able to come on to Slade much stronger if we were alone.
His receptionist ushered me into his office.
His secretary was none other than Tina Bannon, which didn't surprise me in the least.
I meant that I was going to have some tough competition. Tina was the office sexpot. She was a big, creamy bitch with a mane of flame-colored hair and a sensational body.
She had the kind of figure which never goes out of style with men. You know the type. Big, big breasts in an uplift bra, wide hips in, a tight, short skirt. She was so cheap and obvious that it was really disgusting.
The only trouble was, she was the fastest typist and stenographer in the agency. When she typed, her fingers were a blur of motion flying over the keys.
I don't know, maybe the reason that I didn't like her was because we were so much a-like-sisters under the skin.
Tina gave me a little smirk as she strutted out of Slade's office. I knew that she had the same idea about Slade that I did. I wanted to slap the bitch's face.
She closed the door behind her, and I was alone with the celebrated Mr. Matthew Slade. He sat behind his desk like a pilot at the controls of a jet plane.
Slade stood up as I crossed the room. That surprised me, because you don't often see that kind of old-fashioned courtesy very often, not in this town.
I figured him for some kind of square, a savvy businessman but maybe a bit of a hick.
He was handsome, and flawlessly dressed. For an instant I was a bit unsure of myself. I wondered if Slade was the man I had been looking for all these years, a real man who knew how to handle a woman.
Then my old cynicism returned, and I mentally told myself to wise up. Slade was nobody special, just another man who would be no different from all the others that I had brought under my spell.
His voice sounded like rumbling thunder as he said, "Good afternoon, Miss Clark-or is it Ms. Clark?"
"It's Miss Clark," I said, "but why be formal? Please call me Elaine."
He said, "It's my nature to be somewhat formal, Miss Clark. And I always follow my own nature."
I smiled politely, but inwardly I was boiling mad. You son of a bitch, I said to myself, you sure cut me dead. I promised myself that I'd make him eat his words before I was finished with him.
He said, "I've been examining the work you and your department have been turning out, Miss Clark. It's good-damned good, in fact."
I knew that it was good, but that damned Slade had so unnerved me with that Miss Clark business, that I smiled in relief at his compliment. Of course, I immediately hated myself for showing that kind of weakness.
He said, "Effective use of the media is our first and best line of attack in this business. You've done some fine work, and I believe that you can do even better without having some of the other departments second-guess you all the time. In the future, I'll be coordinating your department's efforts myself."
That was good to hear. It meant that Slade and I would be working very closely. That would give me plenty of opportunities to work on him.
I crossed my legs. I did it nice and slowly, so that he could get a good look at the goodies inside. I crossed my leg so that my skirt rode way up on my thighs.
Slade said, "Would you please arrange your skirt, Miss Clark? It's rather distracting for me to see that much leg exposed outside of a beach or a bedroom."
Angrily I tugged my skirt down. I said, "Well, I never! Whatever else you may be, Mr. Slade, it's obvious that you're no gentleman!"
"No, I'm not," Slade said. "There's no room for gentlemen in this business. On the other hand, you're no lady, either."
I stood up. "Just because I'm working for you, that doesn't mean that you can insult me like that!"
Slade chuckled. "Let's clear the air, Miss Clark. You happen to be a bright and talented expert in your field. You also happen to be a damned beautiful woman."
I was glad' to hear that. It meant that he wasn't totally blind!
He continued, "However, the two have nothing to do with each other. All I want from you is your media expertise, and that's all!"
"That's all you're going to get from me, you son of a bitch!" I hissed. "And I don't care if you fire me for saying that!"
He said calmly, "I never fire anyone for telling the truth. I am a son of a bitch. That'll be all for now, Miss Clark. Try not to slam the door on your way out. Keep up the good work, and keep your legs closed."
I slammed the door on my way out.
Tina Bannon was standing by the water cooler. Three horny executives clustered around her, craning their necks so they could peek down her blouse.
Tina saw me coming. She smiled like the cat that ate the canary. She said, "He's quite a man, isn't he?"
I didn't say anything as I stalked past her. My ears burned when I heard her silvery laughter behind me.
I expected to be fired, but that didn't happen. For the next few, weeks, the agency was rocked by a whirlwind of activity as Slade brought the chaos under control.
When we worked together, which was often, he was unfailingly polite with me, which is exactly how he was with everyone else. Matt Slade wasn't the kind of man who played buddy-buddy with his employees.
I was equally polite and correct with him, but I was burning to get even with him. He acted as though I didn't exist outside of the business.
Even worse than that, I noticed that Tina Bannon was spending a lot of nights working late behind the closed door of Slade's office.
The self-satisfied smirk on Tina's face told me exactly what kind of "work" they were engaged in.
I reminded myself that every dog has his, or her, day. I've known men who started off by being cold and distant with me, but by the time that I was done with them, they were on their knees begging me with tears" in their eyes to be granted the privilege of kissing my ass.
I worked hard as hell getting our agency's media campaign in shape for the coming season. I've read that people work best under stress, and in my case it was true because I and my department turned out some of our best work ever.
I rode herd on my department, driving them beyond what they thought their limits were. I was determined to show that grinning son of a bitch Slade just how good we were!
I worked my group and myself into an exhausted frazzle, but we turned out a jewel of a campaign. It was superb, and we all knew it.
We finished late on a Friday afternoon. I took a brief outline of the entire campaign to Slade's office. I was bone-weary and burnt-out.
Most of the staff had already left the building. Even Slade's receptionist had gone home. I rapped my knuckles on his closed door.
Slade said, "Just a minute!" I leaned against the wall and waited. I was reajly tired. A few minutes went by before the door opened.
Tina Bannon came out of the door. She was straightening her hair. I noticed that two of the buttons on her blouse were undone.
Slade called to her, "Have a nice weekend, Tina."
"Thank you," she said-"I'll see you On Monday morning, Matt."
She grinned as she passed me. She said, "You look terrible, Karen! You really should go home and get some rest, honey. Those dark circles under your eyes are so unbecoming!"
"Thanks a lot," I muttered. Tina walked down the hall, swaying that ass of hers from side to side, even though there weren't any men around to enjoy the show.
I went into Slade's office. I raised an eyebrow and said, "'Matt'? Tina'? Whatever happened to that famous formality, Mr. Slade?"
He said, "Tina's not only my secretary, she's my friend. I'm never formal with my friends. You look dead on your feet, Miss Gark. I suggest that you sit down before you fall down."
I handed him the campaign outline. He took it and began to thumb through it. I slumped down into a chair. The chair was very uncomfortable. I knew for a fact that Slade had deliberately set it up that way. The office was rigged so that only he and his secretary had comfortable chairs. Everybody else would have to sit in the uncomfortable ones. It was a charming little trick of Slade's to get the psychological edge over his subordinates.
I was so tired that the chair felt good. My eyes kept closing as I watched Slade read the outline. The grim lines of his face softened as he read on.
My head nodded. I thought that I would close my eyes for a second, just to rest them. I immediately fell asleep.
I woke up with a start. Slade was standing over me, gently shaking my shoulder. I looked out the ' window and saw that the sky was black with night and the city lights were burning.
"How-how long have I been sleeping?" I asked.
"About an hour and a half," Slade said. "You looked like you could use the rest, so I didn't bother to wake you."
I said, "What do you think of the campaign?"
"To put it bluntly," Slade said, "it's brilliant."
I knew that it was, but I was glad that he had the sense to realize it, too.
He said, "It's jam-packed with innovative marketing concepts and really ingenious strategies. You and your people have done a hell of a job. You're all in line for a big bonus."
"Well ... thank you very much, Mr. Slade." I got to my feet. I was still somewhat groggy with sleep, and I stumbled.
Slade's arm whipped around my waist and caught me before I could fall. His arm felt like a bar of steel. "Easy does it, Miss Clark."
"Sorry," I mumbled. "I'm quite overtired. I'm very pleased that you like the campaign, Mr. Slade. I'll go now, unless you want to discuss the outline some more."
Slade said, "You look like you're ready to fall over, Miss Clark. I'm leaving now, myself. I'll have my chauffeur drop you at your home."
I protested that it wasn't necessary, but I didn't argue too hard. I was too exhausted to want to go out on the street and try to scare up a cab.
Slade took my arm and led me down the corridor to the elevator. We rode down in it and exited the building.
Slade's car was waiting in front. It was a long, silver-colored limousine. Slade's chauffeur, a compact, feline Oriental, opened the back door and we got in the car.
The chauffeur asked, "Where to, Boss?"
Slade gave him the name of an expensive restaurant in the midtown area. I asked him to drop me off at my apartment, but he insisted on taking me to dinner.
I didn't need much persuading. I hadn't had a decent meal in three days, just coffee and sandwiches grabbed on the run.
As the chaffeur snaked expertly through the city traffic, I told myself that apparently Matthew Slade wasn't as immune to my charms as he made out to be.
I was far from looking my best, but my worst is better than most women ever look in their lives. An idea was growing in my mind, and the more that I thought about it, the better I liked it.
I would show Mr. Matthew Slade that he wasn't as high and mighty as he thought he was!
The dinner was fabulous. The maitre'd' knew Slade well, and ushered us to the best table in the room. Slade did the ordering, and he knew fine wines the way a surgeon knows anatomy-that is, backwards and forwards, inside and out.
The cuisine was excellent, and the wines were superb. After we finished eating, we climbed into the limousine. I gave Slade my address, and the chauffeur drove uptown.
In a short time, the limousine pulled up in front of my building. I asked Slade if he would like to come inside for a while and have coffee.
Triumph burned in my veins like fire when he said yes. He gave his chauffeur instructions, then took my arm and entered the building with me.
We got off the elevator at my floor and entered my apartment. The sexual tension in the air was so thick that you could have cut it with a knife.
Of course, we were unfailingly polite and correct to each other. It was still "Mr. Slade" and "Miss Clark".
I asked him if he would prefer coffee or a drink. He opted for the drink. I fixed him a scotch and soda, then excused myself by saying that I wanted to freshen up.
I went into the bedroom and closed the door and took off my clothes. I was so excited about what I was going to do, that my hands were shaking.
I stripped naked, then put on the sexiest house dress that I owned. It was a long black gown that clung to my curves like a second skin.
The gown was sheer and silken and crackled with static electricity whenever I moved. The plunging V-neckline was cut so low that it almost exposed my nipples.
Blondes always look good in black, and this outfit was so provocative that it would have caused a monk to forsake his vow of chastity.
Quickly I touched up my face, adding just a bit of make-up. I never use too much make-up, since I feel that natural beauty is the most attractive.
I slipped my feet into a pair of open-toed, high-heeled black shoes. I touched a hint of perfume behind my ear.
Slade whistled when he saw me come out of the bedroom. He said, "Wow!"
"I hoped you'd like it," I said. Of course, I knew that he would. There wasn't a hetero-sexual male alive that wouldn't have liked what that gown did to display my perfect body.
I sat down next to Slade on the couch. My thigh brushed against his. I said, "Now, isn't this nicer than us feuding and fighting all the time?"
"You said it." Slade grinned. I laughed inwardly as I thought about how I would wipe that smile off his face in a few minutes.
Slade's arm rested casually across the top of the couch. Slowly it worked down over my shoulders. I moved even closer to him.
I said, "Why don't you kiss me?"
"That's just exactly what I was planning to do," he said.
I closed my eyes and parted my lips. He embraced me and crushed my mouth with his in a kiss that left me breathless.
His tongue probed urgently into my mouth. He caressed my breasts, and shivers ran up and down my spine.
I almost weakened and forgot my desire for revenge. Slade was a man and maybe, just maybe, he would be the one who could finally turn me on.
But my desire for revenge was even stronger than sexual desire. He had insulted me, and I would never let anyone get away with that.
Besides, I wasn't worried about being fired. I had made a copy of everything I and my staff had done for the fall campaign. Any agency in town would jump at the chance to hire me.
So, foolish girl that I was, I went ahead with my ill-considered plan.
I rubbed Slade's groin. His cock was hard and ready, and I could feel the stiffness of it bulging in the crotch of his pants. Slade rubbed my thigh.
I broke the clinch and moved away from him. Slade's eyes narrowed. I said, "I think you'd better leave now." He said, "Are you kidding?" I said, "Sorry to disappoint you, but I'm not going to jump into bed with you!"