Page 31 of The Wicked Virgin

“Well, what I see when I look at this spit stain is a sexual harassment suit,” she purred. “Do you see that as well? Boss stays late at the office, comes onto his hot secretary, drools all over the sexy outfit she’s wearing. Isn’t that grounds for litigation? Something that’s going to last years and years, damage your reputation, cost you a buttload?” she asked with a smirk.

And I paused for a moment. Because the blonde was probably right. Who would buy my side of the story? It was almost midnight on a Tuesday, we were the only ones in my office and there were no cameras here. Jeanette was stunningly beautiful in the popular sense, and now my DNA was on her slutty outfit. Right on the boob section in fact, like I really had drooled on her, a tomcat howling in heat.

Fuck. I was fucked. So I hung my head.

“What do you want?” I asked defeatedly.

“A raise of course!” she purred. “You’re going to say I’m the best executive secretary you’ve ever had and pay me the big bucks from here on out. I’m getting paid, I’m getting paid, cha-ching!” she squealed, jerking her fist in a victory motion.

I’d realized Jeanette was nasty, but not tacky too. It was disgusting and I was positively repulsed by her tactics.

“You’ve done this before, haven’t you?” I asked, my voice wooden.

“Oh sure,” she said breezily, not even trying to hide it. “I’ve done this to two past employers, both old dudes who really did fuck me. It worked great, I’ve already got enough to retire on from the settlements in those cases, but when I saw you,” she paused. “I knew I had to try again.”

And I just shook my head. Rich men are always targets of gold-diggers, and this was a gold-digger of the worst type.

“How much do you want?” I asked.

“Let’s see,” said Jeanette. “There’s my hairdresser, my manicurist, my pedicurist, my facialist, oh and my rent. Let’s make it twenty thousand a month.”

Twenty thousand a month? That was highway robber for a secretary, a fuckpile of cash for someone who booked plane tickets and took notes.

But my expression remained unchanged because in the scheme of things, twenty thou wasn’t that much. Sure, it was a lot for a secretary, but it was nothing to Luxor Corp. Not even a drop in the bucket, not even a rounding error. It if I could buy her silence with it, why not? I’d find some way to fire her in a year, get this Medusa out of my hair.

So I pretended to think about it, pulling my face into a serious frown.

“How do I know you won’t file suit?” I asked, my brows lowered.

Jeanette smiled at me coyly.

“You don’t know,” she purred. “That’s the chance you’re taking while I have my insurance,” she said, running her hands up and down the bodysuit. And as I watched, mouth agape, she began pulling it off, stepping out of the bodysuit delicately, making sure not to tear or rip the sheer nylon in any way, folding it into a small square once she was done. “Insurance, get it?” she laughed throatily, waving the fabric in my face. “This outfit’s my insurance.”

And I just growled, feeling trapped between a rock and a hard space. Fuck, it was Monica Lewinsky all over again with her blue dress.

“Fine, I’ll do it,” I spat. “Twenty thousand it is.”

Jeanette smiled evilly.

“Make sure the first ten is deposited in my account by tomorrow morning,” she sang, sashaying out of my office, her bare ass swinging. “Otherwise the deal’s off.”

And I just shook my head again, feeling powerless and frustrated. I wanted to beat her ass so bad, report her to HR, fuck, report her to the DA for extortion. But my brain held me back. Because it would be cheaper, easier, just to make this all go away by paying her off for a short time. And then I’d find some way to fire her for good, she’d fuck up on the job sooner or later.

So with a growl, I shot an email to payroll directing them to make an immediate direct deposit into Jeanette’s account, and leaned back at my desk, angry, tense. Fuck! This was so wrong! I swore again, raging at my lot in life. Sure, it’s amazing to be rich as Midas but unlimited wealth comes with its own set of problems, its own set of headaches.

But all that’s been shoved to the back now because I have Tammy. The brunette is everything a man could want, curvy, sweet, sassy, with a body to die for and a mind in the gutter. She lets me do anything to her, fuck her in the ass, fuck her in the pussy, make her take toys hard and deep, working them into her body, making that little cunt cream and spill with pleasure.

So I’m all about Tammy now, letting her into my office day in and day out, spending hours a day bending her over my desk and trashing that cunt, spilling my seed on her every which way. I half-expected to hear her footsteps now, a soft knock on my apartment door.

“Coming!” I called. The Meridien was an exclusive hotel and getting an apartment here wasn’t easy. But money talks, and I’m used to getting my way. It hadn’t been hard swinging an apartment for Tammy, I wanted to keep her close, next to me, with me, on me. Right now she had an apartment on my floor and we spent nights going at it, enjoying each other’s bodies, but I was seriously thinking about moving her into my apartment full time. Fuck, why not? It’d be nice to have her in bed with me the entire night, wake up to her luscious curves, that pretty pink pout wrapped around my dick.

So I opened the door, expecting to see the brunette dressed in a sassy outfit. But instead, it was the harpy from hell, Jeanette.

“What the fuck,” I ground out. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

The blonde just pushed into my apartment.

“That’s a nice greeting,” she said sarcastically. “Shut the door.”

---