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  Rich stroked his moustache. “Not me. Thought you might be. Let’s put it this way: Would you rather work for Gretel Fox or for me?”

  “Is this a trick question?”

  “You decide.” Rich turned and left, closing the door on his way out.

  Kurt sat down at his desk. His next call could wait. Rich didn’t paint a flattering picture of Kurt, but he revealed his true colors: green with envy. What did Judd always say? “If your superior thinks you’re a threat to him, may God have mercy on your soul.”

  Rich clearly felt threatened. And now, so did Kurt.

  Chapter Three

  Gretel Gets Off

  Casper sat at his desk, basking in the afterglow of Gretel’s whipping. He looked up into her green eyes. “How do you do it?” he asked. “You gratify all of my secret, wicked desires. I don’t talk about lusting for women in girdles or women wearing long leather gloves. But you show up wearing both of them! I’m hooked on you, even if you are ruining my life.”

  “Isn’t it wonderful?” Gretel kissed him on the forehead. She planted her hands on her hips. “You really came unglued over your ‘allowance.’ I nearly had an orgasm. Like I was your kinky aunt.” She walked over to her shopping bag, removed her purse, and opened it on the floor.

  “She was my aunt by marriage.” His voice quavered.

  “Relax, darling. That’s our little secret.” Gretel lifted the hem of her dress and began removing the small stacks of money from her stockings.

  Casper stared at her, mesmerized again. “We weren’t related by blood.”

  Putting the last bit of cash into her purse, Gretel snapped it shut and returned it to her shopping bag. “Seducing you is fun.” She walked to his desk and stood close to him. “And feel free to wallow in guilt. I love to make you pay for your guilt.”

  His eyes opened wide. “How did you know about my aunt, anyway?”

  “Don’t concern yourself with how I take advantage of you.” She cradled his head in her arms and pressed his face into her bosom. “Just enjoy it.”

  “Oh, Gretel. I think I love you!”

  “Tell my lawyer. I’d love to sue you for breach of promise.” She pulled his face tighter against her breasts to let him savor her soft warmth and fragrant scent, and then pushed him away gently. Her lipstick remained on his forehead, smudged but clearly visible. Gretel considered rubbing off the telltale sign but decided to let the ruby red commemorate her conquest, a clue to lead Kurt back to her. “Before you call Kurt,” she stretched luxuriously, “unhook my stockings.”

  He fell to his knees. “See? I shot my wad while you were spanking me. But you can revive me with one command.” He felt his cock stirring. The sight of Gretel’s thighs stupefied him and turned his hands into lead. He fumbled with each garter he detached.

  “Hurry!” Gretel said, unhooking the last two garters quicker in her gloved hands than Casper could unfasten one with his bare hands. When Gretel raised the hem of her dress, gripped the top of her girdle with her thumbs and forefingers, and pulled up, Casper yearned to eat Gretel then instead of waiting for that night. But he refrained. Gretel perched herself on the edge of his desk. “Use the speaker phone,” she said, tucking the hem of her dress under her hips to keep her vagina accessible.

  Despite Gretel’s spectacle, Casper managed to push in the speaker button and punch in Kurt’s office phone number.

  “Kurt Merchant,” the voice came over the speaker.

  Gretel’s gloved hand snaked under the rim of her girdle into her vagina.

  Casper shielded Gretel from his view by cupping his left hand to the edge of his left eye. He read from Gretel’s note card: “Kurt, you’ve worked so hard and sacrificed so much for BizMart that I’ve decided to fire you.”

  “Is this some kind of joke?”

  Gretel’s face was flushed. She closed her eyes to concentrate on fingering herself into waves of sensual delight. Her legs parted wider, and she lay back on Casper’s desk.

  Instead of answering, Casper moved his finger to another line on the card. “You know how business brokerage is. We squeeze everything out of you and toss you aside, same as our clients.”

  “Casper, I can’t believe you said that. That’s not how you do business. Or you’ve been fooling me for ten years.”

  Surprise elevated the pitch in Kurt’s voice and tinged it with an inflection of hurt. The emotional timber in Kurt’s words spurred Gretel’s frenzy. He’s stoic, she thought. So, the pain runs deep. Not my fault! Casper’s the bastard who’s firing him! Gretel’s face contorted in glee. She slowed down her fingering to extend the ecstasy.

  Casper read, “I always say virtue should never go unpunished.”

  “Now I know that’s not you,” Kurt grumbled. “Is Rich Leckie behind this? Hell, Sidney Schisslinger says that kind of shit all the time. Is he involved?”

  For Kurt to identify three villains without suspecting Gretel sent a perverse frisson through her. Nudging a small fold of skin over her clitoris, under her gloved finger, she rubbed vigorously. Her delirium veered out of control, forcing her eyes shut. She tried to restrain herself but a soft moan escaped.

  “What was that?” Kurt asked.

  The thrill of an orgasm at Kurt’s expense—while listening to his humiliation—tempted Gretel beyond reason. She started fingering herself again.

  “Don’t change the subject,” Casper adlibbed before returning to the script. “We’ve drained all of the productivity we could out of you. Maybe some foolish company will hire you because they think you have something left.”

  “You’re not making sense,” Kurt protested. Frustration and desperation gave his voice a slight, sharp edge.

  “Or maybe,” Casper read the words slowly to highlight the direct hint, “you can find a new boss who can inspire and rejuvenate you. But you’re through here.”

  Gretel luxuriated in sublime vainglory while she stimulated herself. The trap was closing on Kurt. He couldn’t escape, and his loss would be her gain.

  “Let’s talk face to face, Casper.”

  “Sure,” Casper agreed. “We’ll discuss your severance package, contingent on out-placement counseling.”

  “Explain.”

  “If you don’t go to BizMart’s designated counselor, you forfeit your severance pay. It’s in your contract.”

  “Contracts are made to be broken.”

  The tension heightened Gretel’s rush. Her fingers pumped like pistons. Ripples of delight ascended to another climax. If Kurt stubbornly gave up thousands of dollars to avoid counseling, swindling him and pinning the blame on Casper, it would drive Gretel into a gratifying orgasm. But if Kurt agreed to counseling, Gretel would rocket into paroxysms of voluptuous delight—at his surrender and at her ultimate ability to exploit him completely.

  Casper studied the central note on the card: KURT MUST AGREE TO COUNSELING. PERIOD. OR ELSE. Gretel would ruin him if he didn’t bring Kurt into line. “If you try to break your contract,” Casper said, resignedly, “BizMart’s legal resources will outlast you in court.”

  “OK, I’ll attend the counseling,” Kurt conceded.

  And cascades of delirium pulsed through Gretel. She clenched her teeth to prevent herself from screaming, but she couldn’t keep her body from thrashing wildly on Casper’s desk. The continuous tides transported her to incredible ecstasy. After her clitoris quit responding, pangs of sadness overcame Gretel because her wild ride ended.

  “I’ll see you at five,” Casper said.

  “No. I’m coming right now.”

  Gretel dismounted Casper’s desk. “Stall him.”

  “Kurt, give me time for the paperwork and a phone call.”

  “Five minutes.”

  They hung up. Casper turned off the speakerphone and called his administrative assistant. “Ms. Haversham, please bring me Mr. Merchant’s file.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Gretel started to remove her right glove.

  “Don’t take your gloves off,�
�� Casper frowned. “You’ll mess up my desk. Or chair, or wherever you put those nasty things.”

  Gretel stuck her gloved hand in Casper’s mouth. “Suck,” she commanded. “Consider it practice for tonight.”

  His cheeks hollowed out while he obeyed her. After grimacing, Casper transformed his degrading chore into eloquent submission to Gretel. He quickly sucked her juices off her glove, gently removed her gloved hand from his mouth, and wiped off his excessive saliva with a Kleenex.

  “Buy me another pair of gloves,” Gretel said, “so I can give you a hand tonight.” She peeled off her gloves and put them on his desk. Hurrying into Casper’s bathroom, she hooked the garters back to her stockings and put her sunglasses back on. No time to change into her frumpy dress. Her wig fit unevenly over the chignon, but the disarray of black tresses concealed the lump. Tossing her old dress and the dry cleaning wrapper into the shopping bag, she slipped on her tweed overcoat. She kept on her high heels instead of changing shoes.

  After Ms. Haversham delivered Kurt’s folder and returned to the outer office, Gretel tottered to Casper’s desk. He stared at her.

  “Wait until you see my outfit tonight,” she said. “I’ll bring you to your knees.” She put her gloves in her shopping bag. “Oh,” she pointed to the second note card on Casper’s desk. “That’s a theoretical question about Kurt’s future. Would he prefer lots of money, or a career that he thoroughly enjoys? Have him make a choice.”

  Casper glanced at the card. “Kurt loves being a business broker, but he has a no-compete clause in his contract. He has no choice.”

  Gretel leaned on Casper’s desk and stuck her face close to his. “Of course not. But I love to tantalize him with the illusion that he has a choice. Just like I tantalize you.”

  Chapter Four

  Doing Gretel’s Dirty Work

  Anger and confusion took turns assailing Kurt Merchant. Ten long years with BizMart, kissing clients’ asses, giving up his social life and losing his wife to divorce, always putting on a happy face to mask heartburn and high blood pressure, pickling his liver and generally endangering his health with way too many cocktails—only to have Casper fire him on a whim. Kurt had to find out why.

  He’d keep his word. He’d give Casper five minutes to prepare for the “exit interview,” as human resources called it. “Tirade” described Kurt’s intended remarks. He glanced at his watch: 2:57. Great. The day was shot before Casper’s bombshell, thanks to Rich’s pissing away most of an hour with his gossipy rambling and veiled threat. Trying to call clients proved as futile as chasing ghosts.

  Kurt shrugged philosophically. I consider half of Baltimore as acquaintances, he thought, but few close friends. Judd is the only one I can count on. But I can savor those moments of glory when I helped businesses help each other, even if some of the deals made sewage smell good by comparison. And some of my gaffes! His laugh shook his body, but he clamped his mouth shut. What was I thinking? Oh well, time has healed most of the wounds. No harm, no foul.

  If I can’t change Casper’s mind, Kurt wondered, what will Judd think about my firing? My fair-weather friends could provide me with job leads—except business brokering. Damn no-compete clause!

  Kurt sprang to his feet. Time’s up, he decided.

  The hallway was strangely vacant for a Friday afternoon. Kurt expected to see Rich by the water cooler, trying to fit in with the staff, debating with some poor, trapped employee whether the Ravens would win on Sunday.

  Kurt heard Jessica Noble, BizMart’s new marketing director, talking in the suite of offices where Rich supposedly worked. Jessica always pitched her voice slightly too high, exaggerating her femininity and sweetness. The other voice sounded surprisingly similar to Jessica’s, but more relaxed: earthier and sexier. Kurt was intrigued but too preoccupied to give the muffled conversation further thought.

  Ms. Haversham stood to greet him in Casper’s office. “Mr. Waverly is expecting you.” Her voice was warm, but her eyes shifted fitfully and her hands trembled.

  “Thank you,” Kurt smiled. He liked Ms. Haversham and sympathized with her because Casper had exposed her to unnecessary pressure.

  When Kurt walked into Casper’s inner office, he was taken aback by his boss’s pathetic appearance. Casper was a throwback to the times when people didn’t care how a CEO looked. During the increasing popularity of flash over substance, his days were numbered. The garland of gray over Casper’s ears and beneath his shiny dome looked oddly unkempt. Casper was pale.

  And right in the middle of his forehead was a patch of ruby lipstick.

  “You horny bastard!” Kurt upbraided him. Under the circumstances, why speak respectfully to his boss? Kurt recalled his conversation with Rich. “Let me guess. Schisslinger sent Gretel Fox over here to entrap you and blackmail you.”

  Kurt’s accuracy visibly startled Casper. “What happened in my office doesn’t concern you,” he said.

  “Like hell! You’re throwing away my career. And why don’t you stand up and face me like a man?”

  Partly out of courtesy and partly as a reflex, Casper rose to his feet. Kurt spotted the stain on the crotch of Casper’s pants. Plopping back in his chair, Casper suddenly looked old and tired. “See why I remained seated?”

  “I hope she was worth it! Damn, Casper! Ten years of busting my balls.”

  “Don’t make this harder than it has to be.” Casper jotted some figures on a small pad. “You’ll be financially set for awhile. Your draw against commissions has left you a healthy lump sum. Plus, we’ll give you fourteen months’ salary and fringe benefits—November and December of this year plus all of next year.”

  “It’s not about the money.”

  Casper looked wistful, clearly letting his mind wander. “It’s about what money can buy,” he said. “When you find your passion, you pay whatever it takes. Including money.” He blinked. “And money matters for basic needs, not just exotic addictions.”

  Casper’s bizarre sidetrack baffled Kurt, but he let it go. “You know what matters more than money?” Kurt asked. “Right now, work is my passion.”

  “Really?” Casper sat up straight. “What if you could choose? What if I signed over fifteen-percent ownership of BizMart to you, instead of the five percent you already have? Fifteen percent of our net profits, every quarter, for the rest of your life—in addition to the lump sum of your commissions and fourteen months’ salary. The only proviso: You’d be banned from business brokerage in Maryland, Pennsylvania, Delaware, or Virginia.” Casper extended his index finger. “That’s choice No. 1.”

  Casper stuck out his index and middle fingers in a narrow V. “Choice No. 2 would be forfeiting the commission, the salary, and the fifteen percent ownership. In exchange, we’d waive the no-compete clause. You’d lose a small fortune, but you could still broker businesses. Which would you choose?”

  “Easy. I’ll take what’s behind Door No. 2. Wheeling and dealing is in my blood. Keep your money.”

  “I almost wish we could do that. But,” Casper rubbed his hands, as if washing them clean of Kurt’s dilemma, “that was just a hypothetical proposal.”

  “When did you get so callous?” Kurt asked. “You’ve never toyed with people, just to see how they’d respond. Why now?”

  Casper looked helpless. He had no answer.

  Kurt’s mind returned to his conversation with Rich, and his face brightened. “Oh, I get it. Schisslinger put you up to asking me that question. Just to see how I’d respond. First Rich. Now you. Is there a conspiracy to farm me out to Chimera?”

  “Don’t jump to silly conclusions,” Casper said, without conviction.

  “What’s going on, Casper?” Kurt threw his hands up in the air again. “Did Schisslinger swipe the deed to your house and threaten to evict you? Or is Gretel’s pussy made of gold? Man, I’ve got to meet her! But you’re giving away the store. You’re sacrificing me.”

  Casper looked even more downcast. “One other business matter,” he said. When
he took out his wallet and opened it, Kurt noticed the absence of Casper’s usual wad of bills. Casper took out a business card. “This is the psychiatrist who handles all of BizMart’s counseling. I took the liberty of scheduling an appointment. We’ll pay for it, of course.”

  Kurt took the card. “Thanks for nothing,” he grumbled.

  “She’s expecting you at four.”

  “Today?” Kurt looked at the name and address on the card. “Lila Krafft,” he read. “She’s on the other side of town. I’ll never make it in time.”

  “She’s aware of the, uh, extraordinary circumstances.” Casper looked relieved, as if putting behind him the hardest part of dismissing Kurt. “We deliberately avoided picking a psychiatrist nearby. Didn’t want BizMart employees bumping into each other going to and from her office.” Casper finally smiled. “You’ll find her very helpful.”

  “As if I had a choice,” Kurt grumbled.

  When Kurt watched Casper’s face cloud into hopelessness, he realized Casper had no choice, either.

  Chapter Five

  Forced Hand

  Inside the suite of offices that included Rich’s, Gretel encountered an all-too-familiar figure, the pretty brown-eyed brunette, Jessica, whose reclamation of her maiden name, Noble, fit her melancholy face precisely. Jessica, the martyr; Jessica, the brave. Gretel thought she’d gag. Gretel felt every bit as worthy as Jessica, but a slight question about her nobility caused her to veer to the wild side.

  “I’m Jessica Noble,” she said. “Our receptionist is out today. May I help you?” Jessica’s body formed an understatement of Gretel’s figure, sculpted into well-defined curves, but packing less flesh than Gretel’s.

  Jessica didn’t recognize her. Gretel’s disguise worked. “Tell Rich an old friend is here to see him.”

  Jessica said stiffly, “You mean Mr. Leckie.”

  “No, I’m not Mr. Leckie,” Gretel said sarcastically. “He is.”