The Girl Beneath the Skin


Sometimes, you can tell the sound of a man. It was that way with Grinsworth. Coming down the quiet emptiness of the late Friday afternoon hallway, I knew his gait, the rhythm of his stumpy little stride. I knew this would happen sooner or later. Word gets around. It always does. I didn’t want it to happen, but I was ready for it.

I heard my secretary through the open door. “Good afternoon, Mr. Grinsworth. He’s in. Please let me tell him that you’re here.” I smiled. She’d never met the man, but it made sense that she’d learn who he was. Damn, she’s a good secretary!

“Sit down!” he barked. And then there was the long, inevitable pause. “Good Lord!” he muttered under his breath, just loud enough to make himself heard …by me, and of course, by her. “Oh, Good Lord, what was the man thinking?”

And he waddled into my office, looking as officious as he possibly could. Unfortunately, the look fell flat. He reminded me of a strutting banty rooster; small, puffed up, stiff, overly erect, chest out, as if to say “I’m in charge here! I’m in charge!” I smiled, but somehow withheld the laugh.

“Why, Mr. Grinsworth. To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Grant, I’d heard about it, but I didn’t believe it!” he began, screaming, spraying spittle. He was really trying to work himself into a frenzy. “You bring our most important clients into this office! How in God’s name could you go out, behind my back and hire … hire … THAT!?!” He pointed savagely at the open door. 

“If by ‘that,’ you mean ‘her,’” I responded calmly, “it was agreed when I came onboard here that I’d hire my own staff. I haven’t needed any further sales personnel, only a good secretary. And SHE is it.”

“We GAVE you a secretary!” he screeched, his face reddening. “We gave you Miss Rhombus! We sent you two others after you tried to fire her! I didn’t question you then, but I should have! You can’t fire a girl like Miss Rhombus!”

“You mean I can’t fire the air-headed bimbo niece of the personnel director,” I said calmly. “You’re right, I didn’t have that authority, despite the fact that she filed the Granger Contract under ‘C,’ for ‘Contract.’ In point of fact, it seems that she filed ALL of the contracts under ‘C.’ No, I didn’t have the right to fire her. And she DOES need the work. She wouldn’t be able to afford those D-cup fake breasts of hers without a job.”

“She’s a good girl!” he bellowed. “A pretty girl! If she did nothing but sit out there and look sexy, she’d be one hell of a lot better than THAT!” He pointed again toward the wide-open door. “I want her OUT of here, Grant! And I mean NOW!”

“Okay,” I said quietly. “Consider her gone.”

He looked suspiciously at me. “You mean that?”

“Absolutely. She’ll be working for Feingold, Stillman and Hersh Monday morning.”

He barked a laugh. “Give me fuckin’ break! FS&H wouldn’t touch someone like her with a ten-foot pole!”

“Oh, yes they would,” I said levelly. I got up and walked over to the office trash can, picked up an empty box I’d thrown away earlier, and sat back down at my desk. “She’s part of the package.”

“What package?”

“Me,” I answered. “They’ve been after me for months. They’ve offered me a fifteen hundred dollar a month raise over what I make here, plus an EXTRA one percent commission. I quit, Grinsworth. I should have quit a LONG time ago.”

“You can’t quit!” he roared. “We have a contract, you son of a bitch!”

I slid open my top drawer, picked up a couple of stapled pages, and flipped them across the desk. “There’s your contract, asshole,” I said with as much venom as I could muster. I began taking things out of my desk and packing them in the empty box. “And I didn’t break the contract … YOU did. It says right there that I can hire my own staff. If you break that contract, I can quit without notice … and that’s just what I’m doing.”

Grinsworth watched nervously as I opened a drawer and dumped the entire contents into the box. “Now, wait a minute, Grant.”

“Fuck you,” I said. “I couldn’t be happier. Another fifteen hundred a month … plus an extra percent. All I needed was an excuse, and you just handed it to me on a silver platter.”

“Grant, stop!” he pleaded. I opened another drawer and began stuffing files into the box. “Grant, stop! Hang on a minute!” He was getting frantic. “Grant!”

“Go take a flyin’ leap,” I sneered. “I’m outta here!”

“For God’s sake, Grant, I didn’t mean it! You can keep the girl!”

I ignored him and opened another drawer.

“We’ll match it!” he wailed.

I stopped and looked up at him, keeping my face impassive. “Say that again,” I told him calmly.

“Damn it, Grant, this is blackmail,” he muttered.

“I have grossed more for this company in the past four months than the rest of your entire sales staff combined has pulled in for the past year,” I said. “Now, if you’re serious, pick up that contract, change the figures … and NOTHING ELSE … and I’ll sign it Monday. Otherwise, I’m out of here.”

He slumped, completely defeated. “Blackmail,” he muttered.

“Take it or leave it,” I said flatly. “And one other thing. One other strictly non-negotiable thing. Take it or leave it.”

“What is it?” he groaned.

“You go out there and apologize to that girl. She’s the best damn secretary I’ve ever had. Ever. In five days, she’s single-handedly unfucked all the damage your over-sexed bimbo secretarial staff has managed to do in four months. And I mean REALLY apologize. Like you mean it. Make HER believe it.”

Grinsworth sighed but didn’t comment further. He picked up the personnel contract and waddled out the door. 

I heard him begin, shakily, unsteadily. “Um … Miss … um ….”

“Jenny Winslow, Mr. Grinsworth. Please … call me Jenny.” Her voice was small, polite. She hesitated once, as if her voice had caught. I imagined that she’d been crying, having overheard everything we’d said.

“Jenny …” He paused for several seconds. I could imagine him looking down at his feet. Anywhere but directly at her. “Jenny, I’d like to apologize to you. What I said was crude and impolite and … um … I’m truly sorry please forgive me.” He finished all in a rush.

“Thank you, Mr. Grinsworth,” I heard her say, her voice much stronger. “I accept your apology. I look forward to seeing you again.”

And I heard Grinsworth shuffling away, more rapidly than he’d come, but with an unmistakable tread. Sometimes, you can just tell the sound of a man.

It was another long minute before Jenny appeared at my door. “Why did you do that?” she asked softly. I looked up at her. I looked right at her, right at her face, and I kept my expression tender and non-committal and business-like. 

Jenny is ugly. And I’m not talking plain here, or mediocre. Novelists have relied on similes and metaphors in the past … “horse-faced” (or some other barnyard animal), or any number of crude, cruel literary devices. But Jenny’s face is … well … it’s a wreck. Twisted, pock-marked, scarred, colored bright orange-red in some places, bluish-purple in others. Her right eye is obviously artificial … a glass eye, which stares fixedly straight ahead. But because the other, normal eye is still bright, alive, intelligent (and a deep sea-green in color), the bad one often makes her appear cross-eyed. Her face is … well, to put it succinctly, hideous. 

I am a professional salesman. And I’m a good salesman. I pride myself on being able to confront prejudice and purposefully take no notice of it. Whether the person I’m talking to is hampered by age, height, overt sexuality, race, religion, whatever. The more outrageous, the more I’m able to simply ignore it. The vast, vast majority of people can’t do that. And you cannot believe what an asset it is. A new client who’s a flaming homosexual transvestite? I treat him exactly the same way I would one of the Rockefellers. I simply look PAST it. As if it isn’t even there. And because of that ability, I sell things. Oh, you would not believe how good I am at selling things.

When I interviewed Jenny for the job, I treated her the same way. I looked beyond her face … like she didn’t even have one. I never even mentioned it. Not then, and not at any time since. And right away, I realized she was special. No … more than that. She was amazing! When I told Grinsworth that she’s the best secretary I’ve ever had, that was putting it very mildly. The girl is phenomenal!

I got up and moved over to the couch, where I sat, burying my face in my hands.

“Why did you do that?” she repeated from the doorway. “You threatened to quit on my behalf.”

“What are you talking about?” I countered, not looking up. “I got myself a nice raise!”

“No,” she said flatly. “You didn’t care about a raise. You don’t really need one … not really. You did it because of ME. I’m certain you did. I’ve only worked for you for five days. You barely even know me.” She was talking as much to herself as she was to me, trying to figure the situation out, but now she repeated herself yet again. “Why did you do it?”

I sighed. “You’re mine,” I told her weakly.

That made her pause. “What?”

“You’re mine,” I repeated. “We’re a team. I watch out for you, and you watch out for me. In this office, we belong to each other. I’m responsible.” I sighed again. “Oh, man, I hate confrontations like that!” I looked down at my hands and tried to control the shaking. 

She took a few rushed steps across the office toward me, but stopped abruptly, blushing, looking down at her feet. Her greatest physical attribute is her hair, which is a several inches longer than shoulder-length, a rich reddish-brown in color, straight and very thick. She has learned to keep her head lowered, so that her hair falls across the right side of her face, hiding it from the world as much as possible. She had briefly reached both of her hands out toward me as she took those few steps, but now she fumbled them together, as if trying to keep them busy.

“You shouldn’t feel that way about me,” she said quietly. “I don’t want to be a liability to you. And I am, of course. My face ….”

It was the first time either of us had uttered the word “face” since we’d met. I regarded her quietly as she fidgeted, and decided to ignore the word completely.

“I need you tonight,” I told her.

Her gaze came up, and she regarded me in shock. “What?”

I immediately realized the innuendo, but decided to pretend I hadn’t.  “The Hobart Contract,” I said matter-of-factly. “I need to go over it with you. The notes you put in the margin. I need you to explain them to me.”

The topics had changed too quickly for her to keep up.  She was confused, nervous, and still blushing. “You don’t have to follow my recommendations,” she said to her feet. “I was only trying to help. Please just ignore them if ….”

“They’re excellent notes,” I told her. “I just don’t understand all of them. I’d like you to stay late and work on the whole contract with me. Will you?”

“Yes!” she said too quickly, then looked down again, brushing her hair forward with her right hand, idly covering that side of her face. “I mean … yes, yes of course I can stay. I’d be happy to help.”

“Great!” I exclaimed, clapping and rubbing my hands together as I rose from the couch. “Let’s go out and get a bite to eat, then come back here and work on it. What are you in the mood for?”

She looked back up, real fear in her one good eye, and she backed away from me. “No!” she said urgently, but then paused and tried to compose herself. “I mean … no, Mr. Grant. I can’t. I mean, I NEVER go out … I couldn’t.”

I tried to put on a mild expression. “Nonsense, Jenny. Let’s go out for some dinner. There’s no reason to be …”

“No, Mr. Grant,” she said firmly. “I won’t go out with you. I’m sorry. You don’t know … you couldn’t know.  You have no idea what it’s like.” She ignored her hair and looked up at me imploringly. “Mr. Grant, people stare. It’s not their fault … it’s mine, for going out where they can see me in the first place. They can’t control themselves. They stare, and they shrink back away from me, and they try to hide their revulsion, but they can’t keep it out of their eyes. Children cry. Oh, God … children cry ….” Tears were welling and starting down the left side of her face now, and for the first time, I wondered at the amount of damage done to her right eye. It was obviously incapable of producing tears.

I stepped forward to her and held her by the shoulders. It was the first time that we’d actually touched, other than a handshake after I’d hired her. “Jenny, I’m sorry. Of course we don’t have to go out for dinner.” I thought for a moment. “I’ll go get us some carry-out. How about Chinese? Do you like Chinese?”

She sniffed and smiled wanly. “I love Chinese,” she whispered.

I went to the restaurant four doors down and ordered the food, then walked over to a large drugstore while it was being prepared. I picked up a bottle of Chardonnay from the cooler, then a couple of real wine glasses back in housewares, and finally, as an afterthought, a tall candle and fake crystal candle holder, and carried everything back to the register.

She wasn’t at her desk when I got back. “In here, Mr. Grant!” she called from the office.

“After hours, I want you to call me Tim,” I told her as I walked through the door. “I bought too much food.” 

She straightened from the task of placing a chair in front of the coffee table by the couch, smiling nervously at me. “People always buy too much Chinese food … Tim,” she replied. 

I regarded her quietly for a moment, until she blushed and turned her head away. I kept casting glances as I unloaded the food and as I went to the desk and brought back a corkscrew and lighter for the candle. “Um … did you change clothes while I was gone?” I asked.

She smiled, but didn’t look up as she placed napkins, paper plates and chopsticks in their places on the coffee table. “I was wearing a vest. I just took it off. It’s warm in here.”

But, of course, it was more than that. I realized that she HAD been wearing a vest, but she’d also had her white blouse buttoned to the throat, with a dangling gold necklace and cheap crystal charm hanging on the outside of the high neckline. Now, the top three buttons of the blouse were undone and the collar flared wide, showing an ample amount of cleavage. More than ample, as the case might be. The round, multi-faceted crystal dangled and bounced between the tops of her milky breasts. For the very first time, I found myself thinking that Miss Winslow had a remarkably nice figure.

She sat in the chair and waited as I settled into the cushions of the large couch, facing her. She’s a small girl, barely over five feet in height, but in the chair, she sat above my level on the couch. She leaned forward and served both of us, giving me considerably larger portions than she took herself. I wasn’t paying too much attention. The crystal was bouncing, caressing the insides of those creamy breasts. She watched as I poured the wine, smiling, tasting, telling me how good everything was. I felt confused. I had obviously never considered Jenny in romantic terms. Business is business. Private life is private. I could ignore appearance when I put on my business hat. But privately, appearance DOES matter. Of course it does. It’s that way it is with everyone. Right? I looked away from her, my head suddenly swimming. 

For the first time, I noticed the Hobart Account folder sitting on the table, next to our feast. Ah yes … this was a business dinner. I cleared my throat, and picked up and opened the folder. “These notes you put in the margins,” I began.

“It’s just syntax, mostly,” she responded, suddenly all business herself. “I don’t know if you want me to correct that sort of thing on my own or ask your permission first.”

“No, no,” I chided. “All that’s just fine. You don’t have to ask. Make those changes on your own.” I picked up a sheet of yellow legal paper. “It’s this extra page of figures … Where the hell did you get this data?” 

She suddenly seemed unsure of herself. “Aren’t those the figures that Hobart wants?” she asked.

“Of course they are,” I said, trying to sound authoritative, “but this is not what our process can provide.” I looked quizzically at the yellow page. According to her figures, we COULD provide it. But that didn’t make any sense.

“Well, yes, I realized that,” she said, still unsure. I tried not to look at her boobs as she leaned forward and pointed. “So … I … um … changed the process. I found all the technical manuals on the shelves behind your desk.” She pointed at the yellow sheet. “You see, our technicians input this portion first. But if we reverse our procedure here … and here … modify this portion right here … then input this data before this step here ….”

And suddenly, it all made sense. I dropped my chopsticks, stared at them dumbly for a moment, then I leaped up and rushed to my desk for my calculator. I was back in a flash, tapping like crazy. It only took me two minutes. She was right. I stared up at her dumbly. Holy cow … she was right!

“You don’t have to consider that if you don’t … I mean, I just thought …. I mean, I was only trying to help. Please just throw it away.” She sat back, looking down at her folded hands on her knees, which were pressed together, her slim legs tucked under the side of the chair.

“Jenny,” I began, but stopped, considering the ramifications. I cleared my throat. “Um … Jenny, this is.…” I just stared at her, but she didn’t … she couldn’t look back. I sighed heavily. “Jenny, we have to get this patented right away. Immediately! First thing Monday morning!”

Now she looked up, total confusion in her eyes. “What?”

“This is a new process!” I exclaimed. “Not a change … a whole new process! Don’t you understand? This is going to save the company millions! Tens of millions! Maybe hundreds!”

She didn’t comprehend. “It just seemed logical,” she said in a voice barely above a whisper. “I’m glad I was able to help.”

I gawked at her. She still didn’t get it. “Jenny,” I said levelly, “You’re going to be rich.” Her eyes narrowed and she cocked her head a little to the left. “Don’t you understand? You’re going to be able to sell this for big bucks!”

And suddenly, her eyes went wide. “Me?” she asked.

“Well, of course ‘you’! It’s your process. Our company is going to pay you LOTS of money for this! And if they won’t, I’ll take you to our competition. I could probably get you a million, easy. Plus royalties. You, my dear, are going to be rich! Very, VERY rich.”

But she was shaking her head. Suddenly, she looked frightened, unsure, meek. “No … I … Mr. Grant, I don’t want … I just CAN’T ….”

I smiled at her reassuringly. “Of course you can, Jenny. I’ll take you down to the patent office first thing Monday ….”

“NO!” she said firmly. “I won’t do it! YOU take credit for it! I did it for YOU! You can have it! I don’t want to be involved!”

I smiled broadly. “I’ll do no such thing! I’m not going to take credit for someone else’s work. And if it’s the last thing I do, I’m going to make sure you get all of the credit and fanfare and money ….”

She stood up so abruptly that her chair fell over backwards, and she took two quick steps away from me. “What are you DOING to me?” she howled. “Why are you DOING this? Don’t you UNDERSTAND?” I was on my feet, uncomprehending, completely befuddled. I took a step toward her, but she turned and ran for the door, stopping only when she got there, spinning around to face me yet again. 

“Can’t you see what you’ve done to me?” she sobbed, making a gesture of hopelessness with her arms and heaving shoulders. “Can’t you SEE?” And she fled through the office door, her high heels clicking rapidly as she ran down the hallway. Eventually, I heard the ladies’ room door slam.

I stood in utter disbelief. I thought and thought and simply couldn’t make heads or tails of the whole thing. I couldn’t comprehend why she wasn’t completely ecstatic. I had done nothing but help the poor girl from the moment she got here, and now she was blaming me for … for … WHAT? I sat back down on the couch again and held my head, as if maybe I could physically keep the frantic thoughts from escaping. My brain felt as if it was full of jigsaw pieces, most of which were missing. I don’t know how many minutes I sat like that before I became aware that she was in the room again. I stood up abruptly. 

“Jenny, I ….”

“Mr. Grant … Tim,” she said quickly, interrupting. “If you don’t mind … I’d like to accept your gracious offer of dinner tonight, but with one condition. Let’s NOT talk about the Hobart Contract. Okay? We’ll have a date, just the two of us, right here in this office. But please, please, let’s not talk about the Hobart Contract.”

“Jenny,” I pleaded, “if I said something that ….”

“Please, Tim. Please? Not another word. Okay?” 

I slumped back onto the couch. “Sure,” I replied, trying to hide confusion, exasperation, and a myriad of other emotions. “By all means. I’m afraid the food may not be hot any more.”

“I’m sure it’ll be delicious,” she said quietly, righting her chair and sitting back down. “May I have a little more wine, please?”

“Um … of course.”

As I poured her another glass, she reached down beside her and picked up her small, black purse. She fished around in it for a moment, took out a small glass bottle with and eye-dropper cap, and set in beside her plate.

“What’s that?” I asked her, nodding toward it.

“I’m not going to tell you,” she answered, smiling, “Not yet. When I’m ready to let you know, I’ll tell you then.”

I glanced up at her, and she met my gaze almost happily. She smiled broadly. I suddenly realized that behind her crooked mouth, she has almost perfect teeth; straight and pearly white.

I groped for something to say. “You changed your hair.”

“I pulled it back while I was in the restroom. Do you like it?” she asked lightly.

“Truthfully? I like it better down.”

Her smile froze and her hand faltered a moment before setting her chopsticks down. Without comment, she reached behind her head and pulled the rubber band off, freeing her cascading hair. As if by habit, she smoothed the right side across her ruined face. But before she could resume eating, I leaned across the table and stroked it back behind her ear.

“You have beautiful hair,” I said honestly. “But it shouldn’t be used as a curtain. You have absolutely no good reason to hide behind it.” And I began eating again.

She regarded me curiously for a long moment. “You’re doing it again,” she said gently.

I sighed. “Doing WHAT!?” I implored.

But she ignored me. She took a deep breath.

And then she began.

“It happened just over six months ago,” she said in a quiet, resolute voice.

“Jenny,” I said seriously. “You don’t have to …”

But she disregarded me completely and continued. 

“It’s so strange about pretty girls. When a girl has a pretty face, all the boys can think about is her body. From the moment I started dating, guys were always coming on to me, trying to cop a feel, trying to get me into bed. I was engaged, you know. He wanted me … wanted me constantly.  But I told him no, not until we were married. And he was content to wait. For him, I was WORTH waiting for. But then, after the accident, he didn’t even wait until the bandages were off. He sent me a letter. He broke up with me by sending me a stupid letter! He told me I could keep the ring. And would you believe it? I forgot all about it. I’d forgotten I even HAD it. I found it a month ago in the lining of my suitcase, and I pawned it to pay off my overdue rent.”

Her words were disjointed. Her narrative skipping backwards and forwards and I tried to keep up and make sense of it. 

“I borrowed a car from my roommate’s boyfriend. An old Jeep. I could barely steer the thing. It didn’t have power steering, and I almost drove it off the road twice before I got to the Mathematics seminar being put on by the military up in Victorville. But then, on the way home, the stupid thing just quit. It just … quit. I was on an old two-lane road, out in the middle of the desert, and there were no other cars in sight, and the lousy jeep quit running. I got out and somehow got the hood open, but I didn’t know the first thing about car engines. There was smoke coming out of the battery. White smoke. Lots of it. But I didn’t know anything at all about batteries, either. There were these two plastic cover-looking things on top of it, and the smoke was pouring out of one of those. And I just thought that if I took those covers off, then maybe it would cool down. You know?”

“Aw, God, Jenny,” I groaned.

“It exploded. It just … exploded … right in my face. And there was no one around. Not for the longest time. And there was no water. Maybe if I’d brought a bottle of water with me, but I hadn’t. And no one came … no one came. And it burned. It burned and burned and burned, and no one came.”

“Aw, God, Jenny.”

“Do you know what ‘maximum coverage’ means in an insurance policy?” She didn’t give me time to answer or comment. “I just had a student policy. I didn’t even read the thing before I signed it.” She sighed. “Do you know how fast you can go through $100,000 when you’re in a hospital burn unit? I was there one month … well, actually five weeks. Seven skin graft operations, but those were all, and I quote, Vital and Necessary, unquote. The insurance didn’t cover anything cosmetic. The cornea transplant didn’t take, so they removed my eye. They said that I’d be good candidate for a ‘whole eye transplant,’ but that wasn’t, and I quote, Vital and Necessary, unquote.

“And then, the insurance money was gone. All gone. And that was just the last thing in a whole LIST of things … and they just kept getting worse and worse. One right after the other. First came the ‘Dear John letter’ from David, and then a letter from the Dean telling me that my research grant had been cancelled, and that the whole project staff had been laid off. The next thing was a letter from the administration department saying that 50% of the teaching assistants in the Physics Department were getting laid off ‘in seniority order,’ and of course, I was one of them. Then a letter from the state saying that ‘due to budget cuts my scholarship was no longer active.’ And if I was no longer a student, then I’d have to start paying on all my student loans. And then, the icing on the cake, the hospital discharged me when the insurance would no longer pay. The chief surgeon in my ward gave me twelve prescriptions, for pain, for infection, for all sorts of things. I still have them in my purse. What good are prescriptions without a way to pay for them?

“And finally came the realization of what it’s like to be an ugly girl. More than ugly. The looks people gave me! The way they’d cringe! Some would actually cross the street to keep from having to pass close to me. EVERYONE did it, to one degree or another. Before it had happened, had I ever done that to anyone? Honestly, if I ever had, I couldn’t remember doing so. But then, these people probably wouldn’t remember ME, either. They don’t WANT to remember people like me. That’s just the way it is. Undoubtedly, it’s always been that way. No one even realizes it’s happening … unless they’re someone like me … like I am now. And WE can’t forget. WE can never get away from it. It’s always around us. Ever-present.

“I have no family. And no one would give me a job. Usually, I wouldn’t even get past the secretary in a personnel department. And do you know what the most common reason they gave for NOT hiring me? I was overqualified. Overqualified!

“I hocked the ring to pay the back rent on my hotel room, and then I found a room in Watts for $90 a week. When I started missing payments on that place I really panicked. On Monday, I went to a job interview at the YWCA. I thought it was for an entrance-level management position, so I dressed up in the nicest clothes I still had, but when I got there, I found out that it was just for a part-time position for janitor. I took it. A hundred a week. 

“I sat down on a bench outside the place and tried to figure out what I was going to do. I owed $180 in back rent, and I wouldn’t be paid for another two weeks. I’d have to go to a shelter. I was SO hungry. I hadn’t eaten in three days, except for half a candy bar I’d found in the hall trashcan in my apartment building. I’d hit bottom, Tim. There was nowhere to go. Nothing to do. It was a problem with no possible solution.

“And there, sitting on the bench beside me, was a day-old newspaper. And there, in the want ads, was your notice about hiring a secretary. And there, right across the street, was your building … this building. And then … and then … and then, there was you.

“You gave me the job, right on the spot. And I simply couldn’t believe it when you insisted on giving me a ‘one-month’s signing bonus.’ Remember how you dragged me down to personnel and forced them to cut that check? They practically refused, but you wouldn’t leave their office until they’d written it out for me. I’d walked into this building without a penny to my name, and now I was walking out with a real job and $2,000 in my pocket. But none of that really mattered to me. Not really. What mattered to me was you, Tim. You’d treated me like a real person. An honest-to-goodness real person. I’d forgotten what it was like to have someone be polite to me. I’d forgotten what courtesy was like. But most of all … most of all, I’d forgotten what it was like to be respected.

“And suddenly, I WAS somebody. Not a big somebody … not really. A secretary. Not a theoretical physicist, like I’d planned to be all those months ago. But, don’t you see, Tim? My prospects went from being a part-time toilet-scrubber at the ‘Y’ and living in a shelter, to working in an environment where someone actually respected me. Someone who gave me challenging tasks. Who complimented me for completing those tasks. Who put his OWN JOB on the line to protect ME! And finally, somebody who wants to step aside and give ME credit for something worth a million bucks!”

“Step aside?” I asked loudly. “The idea was YOURS!” 

“Bosses don’t give their employees credit, Tim. Bosses steal their employees’ ideas. In my seven years of college, I’ve had four different profs who stole my ideas. I’m not bitter … it’s just something that happens. It happens all the time. It happens everywhere. But it never even occurred to you to do that, did it? It never even entered your mind.”

I could only look at her, dumbfounded.

“You, Tim, are my knight in shining armor. You have been from the very beginning. And every day, every time I turn around, you’re doing more and more for me. Showing genuine respect in more and more different ways. Can’t you understand? Don’t you have any inkling what kind of effect you’re having on me emotionally?”

I gawked at her. It had been just about the saddest story I’d ever heard, but she hadn’t shed a single tear from her good eye. Now, she was more or less telling me that I’d somehow forced her to fall in love with me. What was I suppose to say to something like that? I imagine most guys would have felt something akin to revulsion; but honestly, all I felt was immense confusion.

“Um … Jenny ….”

“Tell me about your wife,” she said, leaning forward to fetch my empty wine glass, once again flashing her magnificent cleavage at me.

“What?”

“Your wife,” she said, matter-of-factly as she refilled first my glass, then her own. “Why did you leave her?”

“Evelyn?”  I stuttered. “I didn’t. She left me.”

Jenny set the wine bottle down between us, but left both glasses sitting next to her plate, untouched. “Okay, why did SHE leave YOU?”

These rapid changes in topic were helping my confusion factor not at all. “Um … I suppose it was the same old story,” I told her, shrugging. “She wanted more and more things in life. Better and better things. Bigger things, faster things, prettier things. And I tried to give them to her. The more she wanted, the harder I worked. The harder I worked, the less I was around. She needed a man, and I wasn’t there. So she found another one.” I shrugged one last time. “Like I said, same old story.”

She picked up the little glass bottle and started unscrewing the stopper-cap. “Did you love her?” she asked, not looking up at me.

“Yes.”

She squeezed the stopper, filling the eyedropper, then looked into my eyes. “Do you still?”

That made me stop and think for a moment. “No,” I answered finally, honestly. “I think I still love the THOUGHT of her, but I don’t love her anymore. I guess I just miss her. Does that make sense?”

“Yes,” she said softly. She held the dropper over my wine glass and counted out three drops. Then she replaced the stopper in the bottle, picked up her purse, and dropped it back inside. She held my glass before her face and swirled the wine around for a few seconds, then placed the glass back in front of me.

“Drink that, please,” she said quietly.

I stared at her open-mouthed. “What the hell was THAT?”

She leaned forward and put her elbows on her knees, her hands together, palms down, and she rested her chin on the backs of her hands as she looked back at me mildly. “Do you trust me, Tim?”

“I don’t do drugs, Jenny,” I said defensively.

“I guarantee you there’s nothing either narcotic or illegal about what I put in your drink,” she said calmly. “Do you trust me?”

I leaned back and regarded her in a whole new light. She wasn’t trying to hide her face now at all. Her mouth, twisted from her accident, curved slightly upward at the corners, smiling gently. Her one good eye sparkled. Her arms formed the top of a triangle with her elbows down like that on her parted knees, and the tops of those soft, creamy breasts peeked through, with that sparkling crystal warming itself luxuriously between them. I felt suddenly warm. And more to the point, I felt suddenly that I was no longer in control.

I sighed. “Yes, of course I trust you.”

“Then, please,” she said, maintaining the same pose.

I reached forward, picked up the glass, and downed the wine in three gulps. I tasted nothing except the wine itself. I wondered if the liquid had been water. It had looked like water. Was she just testing me for some reason? I waited for her to explain.

Instead, she smiled triumphantly, began picking up the paper plates, napkins, and various leftover food containers, placing them in the plastic bag they had come in, and asked: “What are you going to do when she comes back to you?”

“What? Who?”

“Your wife, of course. She WILL come back eventually.”

“What?” This woman was keeping me hopelessly puzzled. “No. I mean, she won’t come back. She’s remarried already. What WAS that?”

“Oh, she’ll be back. You’re a good man, Tim.”

“What?”

“You’re a good man. Honorable. Respectful. Honest. But most of all good. Do you have any idea how few GOOD men there are in the world? Yes, she’ll come crawling back to you someday. You should have some sort of idea how you’re going to handle that. Are you feeling sleepy yet?”

“What? No!”

“We’ll give it a little more time, then. Why do you sleep in your office at night sometimes?”

“What? Um … I work late a lot. I get tired, and I crash here on the couch. There’s really nothing for me at home, anyway. What difference does it make? What was that you put in my drink?”

“Oh, just something to help you relax. You’re uptight. You need to relax. That’s a very comfortable-looking couch, alright. Tuesday morning, when I came to work early, I stood here and watched you sleeping for the longest time. You looked so relaxed and peaceful, lying there. You look sort of sleepy right now, as a matter of fact. Have you ever been hypnotized, Tim?”

And now, I was really concerned. I felt the blood rise in my face, and I sought frantically for something intelligible to say. “No … I … um … no. No, I’ve never … um ….”

“You’d really like to be, though, wouldn’t you?”

“Jenny ….”

“Shhh!” she ordered, and I fell silent, staring. For the first time, I realized that I’d somehow acquired an erection. “Lean back on the couch, please. Do it now. That’s it, Tim. Now, relax and wait to get sleepy while I tell you what’s happening here. That’s right. You’re going to feel very sleepy very soon now. Just listen while you relax for me.

“Tuesday afternoon, after you’d gone home, I came in here, into your office, and I fired up your computer. I really know a great deal about computers. It didn’t take me long to get through your password and into your files. I wanted to know more about you. In fact, I wanted to know ALL about you. And do you know what? The more I found out, the more I realized that this big front you put on for everyone about being such a nice guy was no front at all. The more I looked for a flaw in my knight’s armor, the shinier I found out it really was. You are TOTALLY honest. You really are!

“And you would not BELIEVE how hard I was falling for you. Head-over-heels in love. And the more I resisted, the more I fought it, the more realistic I tried to be --- the more in love with you I fell. But what could I possibly do for a guy like you? There must be SOMETHING you wanted. Some secret something, that no one else … not even your former wife … suspected that you wanted. Some unfulfilled desire – that’s what I longed to find. That’s what I yearned to discover. 

“And I found it, Tim! Right there in your internet history. Right there in your temp folder. One more day, and your virus software would have purged it all! I was so LUCKY! Since I met you, I’ve become the luckiest girl in the world!

“You like ‘mind control porn stories.’ When you’re here, all alone, late at night, you read them. But not just any kind of MC … you crave stories about erotic hypnosis. I never even knew there WAS such a fetish. You don’t mind me calling it a fetish, do you, Tim? That’s what most of the psychology web sites call it. I checked out a couple books at the library, too. If it’s any consolation, it doesn’t seem to be an isolated sort of fetish, at all. Evidently, LOTS of people have it … men and women, too. Most experts say that it’s really rather harmless. The biggest drawback comes with the differences between the fantasies most people have and what REALLY happens during hypnosis. Real hypnosis, I mean. I didn’t know anything about hypnosis on Tuesday, but I do now. I think I’ve become a bit of an expert, actually. I’ve read dozens of books during that time. Did you know I was a speed-reader? And I planned this little event … but I truthfully didn’t know it was going to happen tonight. Not until I was in the bathroom a few minutes ago. And then, I figured, why not go ahead and do it now? Are you getting sleepy, Tim? Oh, you ARE, aren’t you?”

I couldn’t believe this was happening to me. She’d discovered something about me that I’d never told ANYONE. This had to be one of the most embarrassing, impossibly frustrating moments of my life. What if that HAD been water in that little bottle? I couldn’t let her talk me into some sort of trance by making me think it was something else! Could I? More to the point, would I? This was something that I’d had fantasies about as far back as I could remember. And now, it was happening. It was really happening. I felt my eyes flutter. But what if it HAD been water!?

“Oh, Tim, that’s wonderful. Now, I need you to focus on something while I tell you the rest of it, okay? Would you like to focus on the candle, or on the crystal ball hanging between my breasts? You’ve been trying SO hard to keep from staring at my tits all evening, haven’t you? Oh, now, see? I’ve embarrassed you, haven’t I? Okay, we’ll do the candle, then. Just look right at the candle, while I talk to you, okay? That’s right. Just listen to my voice and look right into the candle and be sleepy for me, okay? Oh, Tim, you’re such a good boy.

“And I don’t want you to be concerned about ME at all, okay? You don’t have to worry at all. I won’t force you to blur the line between fantasy and reality, I promise. I know we would never work out. You and me, I mean. In your trance, the trance you’re falling into right now; in your deep, deep trance, I’ll be able to make you happy. I’ll be able to ease your loneliness, just for a little while. I’ll be able to satisfy you, just for now … just for a little while. But I know that in real life, I can’t have you. I accept that. I know that this is just for this evening, and nothing more. You have my word. You have my promise. Okay. Relax for me, Tim. Surrender to the sleep for me. For just a little while, let me help you realize your dream. Surrender to me, Tim.”

Now that I’d chosen to look at the candle, instead of her luscious cleavage, I suddenly wished that I’d made the opposite choice. Again, I considered the possibility that this was all some sort of a dream of my own making, and that I was just letting her talk me into it. Had she really read all those books in the past three days? Did I really believe her? Did I really trust her? Well, yes … I trusted her enough to drink the wine. The wine with … whatever she’d put in it. I decided to test her supposition by looking away from the candle. That ought to prove something. But where else would I look? I really, really wanted to look at her breasts … at that crystal thing that was nestled between them. She’d invited me to, so that ought to be okay. But now she didn’t want me to … right? I could, if I wanted to, though. I … um … I … well, maybe I couldn’t. Suddenly, I forgot what was it I was trying to think about.

“And I don’t want you to be upset, now, Tim, when I tell you this …. You won’t be upset, will you? Of course, you won’t. You’re too sleepy to be upset. So sleepy. So relaxed. So very, very sleepy … sleepy in a lazy sort of way. You know what I’m talking about, don’t you, Tim? Of course, you do. Like when you’re in bed at night, and you’re SO relaxed, and you’re SO sleepy … so sleepy … that sometimes you’re asleep, and you don’t even know it. You suddenly find yourself in a very pleasant dream, and you tell yourself ‘What do you know! I fell asleep, and I didn’t even know it!’ But that really makes sense, if you stop and think about it. Because, when you are so very, very sleepy, you often fall asleep without knowing it. In fact, you almost never actually know the exact moment when you fall asleep, do you? And so, you won’t be upset now … not upset at all … when I tell you that you’re really in your hypnotic trance right now. You fell into your trance, and you didn’t even know it. But now that you DO know it, you’re not upset at all, are you, Tim?”

I decided to consider this question dispassionately, and I found the possibility unlikely. After all, I DID still have my eyes open. I assumed I did, at any rate. I could still see the candle. Of course, I most definitely couldn’t look away from it. Could I? Or was that the LAST problem I was worried about?

“Oh, I know what you’re thinking, Tim. You’re thinking that you still have your eyes open. And you’re right, of course. Even though you’ve already entered a wonder, peaceful hypnotic trance, you haven’t actually gone to sleep yet. But you’re eyes are getting heavy now, because you are so, so very sleepy. That’s right, Tim. They’re closing now. Just let them close now. That’s it. And since I’m in charge of your trance, I’ll let you still see the candle, even though our eyes are closed. Yes, they’re closed now, even though you can still see the candle perfectly well. In fact, the candle is all you can see, isn’t it? Even though your eyes are closed, and you are deep in your hypnotic trance.”

Yes, it was the same problem all over again. I COULD see the candle, so I must have my eyes open, right? 

“And just to prove to you that you are, indeed, asleep and deep in my hypnotic control, I want you to just watch the candle, watch the candle, watch the candle, as you go deeper and deeper into your trance for me. And as you watch the candle, it will begin to blur and fade, and instead of the candle, the tops of my breasts will take it’s place, and the crystal nestled between my breasts will shine and sparkle brightly, just like the candle, and you won’t be able to see anything else. Only the crystal between my breasts. That’s what you really wanted to see, isn’t it, Tim. You’ve been sneaking peeks at it, sneaking peeks at my breasts, all evening, haven’t you?”

“Yes, I’m sorry. I …”

“Shhh! Don’t speak right now, just listen. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Seeing the tops of her breasts like this was wonderful. It dawned on me rather slowly what the ramifications of this vision might be. So, I was hypnotized. It had actually happened.

“And now, Tim, it’s time to talk about real hypnosis, like you’re experiencing right now, and about the kind of hypnosis you read about in your online story web sites. They’re different, you know. Well, some things are the same, but some are different. As you go deeper and deeper, I’ll tell you about it. Deeper and deeper. 

“First of all, hypnotic amnesia is real, but we’re not going to do that tonight. Everything I say to you, everything I do to you, everything that happens, you will remember when you wake up. Deeper and deeper, Tim. Be a good boy for me, okay? Deeper and deeper. That’s it. Good boy.

“And next, as you go deeper and deeper, we’ll talk about hypnotic euphoria; and that’s very real, too. And everyone likes that; and so, now that you know it’s real, as you go deeper and deeper for me, I’ll reward you by letting you feel very, very good. So good. So wonderfully good. So relaxed and free and nice and wonderful. It’s the best feeling you’ve ever had, Tim. The best feeling in you’re whole life. Now, as you go deeper and deeper for me, I’ll let you feel better and better. Deeper and deeper, and better and better.

“And now, we’ll talk about the concept of the hypnotist making a subject do anything she wants him to do, even if he doesn’t like it. And as you might have guessed, even though it sometimes makes for a very tantalizing story, that isn’t true at all. And so, even if I wanted you to do something for me, you will NOT do it if you don’t want to. Because the hypnotist cannot make the subject do anything he doesn’t really want. She cannot KEEP the subject from doing something that he DOES want.  And so now, Tim, now that you know this, I want you to feel safe and secure about going deeper and deeper for me, and feeling better and better. 

“And finally, Tim, we’re going to talk about hypnotic suggestion, and that’s what it’s really all about, isn’t it? Because, even though a hypnotist can’t make a subject do something that he doesn’t want to do, she can really, really help the subject do something that he DOES want to do. Does that make sense? I can help you overcome your nervousness, your hesitance, your reluctance, your insecurity, and I can then help you act the way you WANT to act. That’s going to be my gift to you, Tim. Do you understand? For all of the things you’ve done for me this week … in return for giving me my life back … I’m allowing you to feel this wonder hypnotic trance for the first time, and then, after you wake up, I’m going help you feel the things you miss so much since your wife left you, without any guilt, and without any feelings of embarrassment or regret. Do you understand, Tim? Tell me now if you understand what I’m going to do for you.”

“I understand,” I told her calmly. And I did, too. She’d made the entire process perfectly clear. She really is a remarkable secretary, I decided.

“Okay, that’s very good. Now, before we begin that process, is there anything else you’d like me do for you while I have you in this very, very deep hypnotic trance?”

“I want you to bring me back again later,” I told her seriously. “I want you to give me a trigger phrase and bring me back again.”

“Ah … the trigger phrase. I’m afraid that’s another thing that’s dramatically exaggerated in your online stories. We might be able to do something along those lines, but ….”

“Please?” I pleaded. I felt rather embarrassed begging her for something like that, but it’s difficult to describe the wonderful feelings I was experiencing.

“Okay, Tim, I’ll see what we can do. But right now, I need you sink back, back, back into the couch and go very, very deep for me. Let go of every thought, every feeling, every little, tiny bit of consciousness. Nothing is real for you now unless I tell you it is real. Very, very deep. You feel complete peace, complete happiness. Only those feelings. No thoughts at all. That’s very good.

“And now, I want you to stay in this wonderful state of absolute, complete hypnosis, and I want you to open your eyes and look at me. That’s right. Good boy. You’re still SO deep, but you can see me. No, I don’t want you to look at my face, I want you to look at my body, okay? Yes, that’s it. You like looking at my body, don’t you? People used to tell me that I have a very nice body. I want you to just forget my face altogether, okay? Now, watch while I begin taking off my clothes for you. Yes, that’s it. 

“You’ll have to be patient with me, okay? I’m very shy. I’ve always been shy. Just give me a moment. There. Do you like my breasts? I knew you would. That’s okay, there’s no reason to blush. Just go ahead and stare right at them. I know you want to reach out and touch them, but you can do that later, after you wake up. When you wake up, you will know, absolutely, that you have my permission to touch them … that you can do anything at all to them that you want to do. I know that you’re sexually excited. That’s very natural. 

“And now, I want you to stay in that wonderful state of complete hypnotic trance as you watch me take off the rest of my clothes, okay? Just wait a moment. Just … there. Now you can look at all of me. No, not at my face. I know that you don’t want to look at that. Just look at my body, okay? I know that you’re becoming more and more sexually excited as you look at me. I know that you want to do things to me. Here, I’ll turn around and show you all of me. I’m sorry that I’m blushing so much. You won’t pay any attention to that at all. Just look at me and want me, okay?

“Now, I know that you will do just as I say and stay in your complete, total state of hypnosis as you stand up and begin taking off all of your clothes, too. I know that you’ll obey me because you WANT to obey me, don’t you? I’m naked, and you’re wonderfully excited by that, I know; and so now you’re going to join me and be totally naked, too, aren’t you? Yes, everything. Completely naked, just like me. That’s great. Oh! Gosh, Tim! You’re really hard, aren’t you? You’re … um … I mean … Gosh, Tim! No, please stop looking at my face! I know I’m blushing, but I don’t want you to notice that at all. 

“Now, sit back down … that’s right. And now, I’m going to sit down right next to you, just like this. And you know that very soon now, you’re going to make love to me. No, I shouldn’t say that. I should say that you’re going to have sex with me. Completely guilt-free, wonderfully satisfying sex with me. 

“But first, we’ll try to implant the trigger phrase that you want so much. For a moment, look at my crystal, okay? Whenever you hear me tell you to look at my crystal and relax … or whenever you hear me tell you to look into a candle and relax, you will immediately feel very, very sleepy. Your subconscious mind will remember this wonderful feeling that you’re feeling right now, and you’ll get sleepy … so very, very sleepy. And you’ll be ready to come back to your trance, like you’re in right now. Because you WANT it. Subconsciously, you want it very, very much. You will find that you simply HAVE to look at the crystal or the candle when I tell you to. And you’ll follow my voice as I take you down and down and down into the trance that you want so much. And you KNOW that is what will happen, don’t you? Yes, I know you do.

“Well, now it’s time to tell you what’s going to happen when I wake you up. When I wake you up, you are going to feel alive and wonderful and strong and sexy and virile. You are going to want to have sex with me, and you are going to remember that I gave you full permission to have sex with me any way you please. If you want to be very, very rough with me, you won’t hold back at all. You will do anything you want. Anything at all. Even if I beg you to stop, you won’t. You will take me. It is going to be the most important thing in your life. You won’t look at my face. In fact, you won’t even think about my face at all. You will only think about taking your pleasure, anyway you want, knowing that you will have no guilt, no embarrassment, no reluctance whatsoever. You can do it as many times as you want. And you will feel nothing for me except that I was a vessel for your sexual satisfaction. I was just a way for you to ease your loneliness. I will be your commitment-free one-night-stand, and nothing else, and you will be content with that.

“Okay, it’s time, I suppose. Give me a moment. I’m really, really nervous, here. Just look at my body and want me. Want me very, very much. Alright … I guess I’m as ready as I’ll ever be. I’m going to count to five, and when I’ve finished counting to five, you will wake up, and then you can let your passion consume you, and you will take me. Okay, here we go. One … two … three … four … five.  UMPH!”

I’m afraid I attacked the poor young girl. My body was on fire. My mind was bent on one thing, and one thing only. My cock was harder than it’s ever been in my life! My hands had been in my lap, between us, as we sat half-facing each other. Now, I brought them up under her arms, I wrapped my arms around her naked body, and pulled her to me, hugging her tightly. Then I pushed her back into the cushions of the couch, holding her, clutching her.

She was shaking all over. I could tell she was scared to death. In an instant, I’d positioned her underneath me, pressing down into that marvelous, succulent body of hers, pinning her below me, holding her with my entire weight. I suppose that she felt utterly helpless. She had her eyes closed tightly shut, but when I went no further, she nervously licked her lips, and then finally, finally, she peeked up at me. 

My eyes were level with her own, and I smiled down on her. She gasped. “You’re not supposed to be looking at my face!” she gasped. “You’re not supposed to ….”

All I could do was grin with utter happiness. “Obviously, the hypnotist can’t keep the subject from doing something that he really, really WANTS to do,” I told her, and I lowered my lips to hers and kissed her. 

For five full seconds, she just lay there, shocked into total inaction. Then she somehow freed her hands, which had been pinned beside her, and she brought them up to my chest, pushing frantically. I broke the kiss, but couldn’t keep the wide grin off my face.

“Tim, something’s wrong here,” she gasped. “You aren’t supposed to be doing this! You’re just supposed to want me … uh … want me ….”

“Oh, you have know IDEA how much I want you, my dear,” I told her, and kissed her again. 

Once more, she froze for long seconds before beginning once again to push against my chest. But this time, I’d had enough of her silly resistance. I was going to have my way with her, by God, and this was the way I wanted it! I ran my hands up and down her smooth, succulent body; her sides, her back, up to her neck, back down again. I began stabbing against her lips with my tongue. I brought one hand around and squeezed her breast. At last, she parted her lips, allowed my tongue to enter, and she moaned loudly into my mouth as she stopped pushing against me and slid her hands up and around my neck. 

My passion for her was boundless. I gripped her so tightly that she was forced to groan as we kissed. Then, I snaked my hand back up to her head, laced my fingers in her thick hair, and pulled her head back away from me. As her head tilted back, I began kissing her throat, her jaw line, her cheeks, her lips, and back to her throat.  She gasped, moaned, gasped again.

“Oh, Tim! Oh, my gosh! Mmmmm! Ahhh! Oh, Tim!”

I moved my lips down her throat to those breasts I had been admiring all evening. I kissed the tops of them, licked between them, where the little fake gem dangled, kissed my way under the right one, and then finally took the stiff, rubbery nipple between my lips and suckled it rhythmically, suck-suck-suck. I slurped at it, then took the erect little nub between my teeth, bit gently, and flicked my tongue across it rapidly. She arched up into me and brought her hands up to the back of my head, lacing her fingers in my hair.

“Tim! Oh … I … OH!”

I shifted everything around, then. I pushed her body roughly to the side, switched to her left breast, and began doing the same thing to that one. Her body was completely trapped now, wedged between the back of the couch and my large, tense, frantic body. Slowly, purposefully, I slid my right hand down, across her flat, smooth belly, and I began tracing my fingers in a triangle, first across the top on her pubic patch, then along one inner thigh, and back up the other. She gasped, moaned hoarsely and shuddered violently, but kept her legs together until I began gently trying to pry them apart. All at once, she obviously seemed to remember that this was all her plan in the first place, because she suddenly spread her legs wide for the benefit of my prying hand and groping fingers.

I put my hand flat on her belly, and slid it down until my palm completely held her entire pubic area, the base of my palm against her thatch of hair, the tips of my fingers near her ass. She gasped loudly. Gently at first, but with increasing pressure, I began grinding my palm into her in a circular motion. As I did so, her vaginal lips parted further and further, and I was rubbing her most intimate parts. I felt her hard little clit against my palm as it was bent and rolled in the rounded pattern I was roughly tracing. Her vagina and lower lips were wet, slippery, smooth, and very, very soft. Her hands left the back of my head, and her arms flew around my neck, clutching me, as she arched her back up into my relentless hand.  

“Tim! Oh, Tim! This … this … isn’t …. This wasn’t the way …. OH!”

I let go of her nipple with my suckling mouth and lips and teeth, and moved my body back upward until my face was even with hers again, all the time keeping up the circular motion with my palm. I stared into her eyes, while her one good one peered questioningly into my face. 

“Why? Why aren’t you …?”

But then I was kissing her again, long and deep and hard, while her hips jerked and strained up into my hand. I extended the middle finger and let it slide easily into the oily, tight, slippery passageway of her cunt. When I broke the kiss, her eye had fluttered upward, until only the white showed, but she blinked once or twice and forced her vision to steady on my face.

“Why aren’t you raping me?” she asked in a ragged whisper between gasps.

I grinned down at her. “Raping you?”

“I thought you’d take me hard. I thought you’d force me. It’s been so long for you! OH! Oh, Tim!” She arched frantically upward again as her body was wracked by a tremendous, shuddering spasm. “Tim, you’re about to make me cum!”

I kissed her for a few seconds, before looking again into her ravaged face. “And it’s going to be a big one, isn’t it?”

She blushed furiously and tried to say something in response, but her words became an incoherent, moaning mumble. I shifted once again back to her left breast, suckling hard, while I pulled my hand free from between her legs with the exception of my middle finger, which I began rubbing fast and hard, directly on the slippery little nubbin of her hard, rubbery clit. With a scream, she wrapped her arms around me, clutching hard, as her body jerked and bounced uncontrollably while the orgasm claimed her.

While she was still wracked by spasms, I pushed her upwards so that her head was resting on the couch’s arm, then I slid all the way down until my face was between her legs. She just lay there, completely unaware of what was happening to her, until she felt my tongue on her clit.

“AAAHHHHH!” she screamed, her whole body jerking upwards so strongly that, for a second, it left the surface of the couch entirely. I wrapped my arms around her buttocks and held on for dear life. I pushed my tongue as far into her as I could, and I marveled at the muscles of her cunt clutching at it, contracting rhythmically. “Unghhh! Unghh!” she grunted. I went back to her clit, giving it long, slow, hard licks, moving from the bottom to the top, tasting her dripping, gushing juices. It was as if her body was being wracked by powerful jolts of electricity. Her fingers were in my hair again, and she was trying to pull me back away from her. 

“Please,” she said, in a groaning whisper. “Oh, please, Tim. I can’t take any more! Tim, please!”

Reluctantly, I stopped and moved back up again, until our faces were even. “I have been programmed to ignore your pleading protests,” I told her, grinning.

Her chest was heaving, gasping. She tried valiantly to bring her breathing under control. “This has gone all wrong,” she told me. “I’m supposed to be pleasing YOU. This is only about YOU! You’re supposed to be using me … using me any way you want!”

“I’m using you EXACTLY the way I want,” I told her honestly, and I kissed her again hard, forcing my tongue back into her mouth. But it didn’t last long, since I sensed that she was getting very short of breath. When I relinquished the kiss, she panted and gasped, her chest pressing into my own. 

She searched my face. “I’ve never tasted myself,” she told me quietly, breathlessly. “Tim, tell me what to do! Tell me what you want me to do!”

“Touch me,” I ordered.

Her hand immediately went down between us, and she wrapped her small, slender fingers around my shaft. She began pumping it frantically.

“Hey! Slow down,” I told her. She looked imploringly at me. We were very close, our noses touching. “Be gentle. We’ve got all night.”

As soon as I complained, she had pulled her hand away from me. Tentatively, she grasped me again, much too tenderly, as if she was afraid to touch it at all. I gave her a rather patient, patronizing look. 

When she saw it, tears welled in her left eye. “I’m awful at this, aren’t I?” she whispered. “I used to do this to my boyfriend. I wouldn’t let him make love to me, so I did this for him when I knew he was especially frustrated. And he’d always gush right away, almost as soon as I started. But I was doing it all wrong, wasn’t I?” She sobbed. “Tell me what to do! I’ll do anything for you! Anything!”

“Slide down and look at it,” I told her gently. “I think you’re afraid of it. Look at it and get to know it.”

Quickly, in an almost comical effort to please me, she slid down until her face was even with my cock. Again, she wrapped her fingers around the shaft and began to stroke it up and down, slowly at first, then more rapidly, then slowly again. “I’ve never really seen one before,” she told me. 

“What?”

She stroked a few more times, then shifted her attention to my balls. “It was always dark when we went parking in his car.”  I tilted my head back against the arm of the couch and moaned gently. “You want me to suck it, don’t you?” she continued.

“Only if you want to,” I gasped. My breathing was getting a little beyond my control. 

In a second, her lips were around my cock, and she was sucking on me. “I’ve never done this,” she said, looking back up at my face. “Tell me how!”

“Try different things,” I breathed. “I’ll tell you what I like best.”

She pushed her mouth down, scraping her teeth along both sides of my shaft. I jerked a little, but didn’t complain. Then she started licking it, full length, like an all-day lollipop. “Ohhh. That’s nice,” I moaned. She did that for awhile longer, then began bobbing her sucking lips up and down rapidly around the head. “Mmmm. That’s really great, Jenny!”

Her mouth was a warm, wet, soft, sucking machine that kept shifting gears, fast then slow. She kept experimenting, and I got the impression that she was actually having a lot of fun at my shuddering expense. First, she gave me a gentle little nip with her teeth, but abandoned that tack when I jerked violently. When she sucked the shaft as far into her steamy mouth as she could, I couldn’t help but groan in ecstasy, and I felt my cock swell and lurch involuntarily. She took that as a good sign, and kept it up for several long seconds, before trying the next thing. Eventually, she was sucking hard on just the head, while stroking me slowly but firmly with her right hand and gently squeezing my balls with her left. That’s when I almost lost it.

I reached down and grasped her by both shoulders, pulling her up to me. Her mouth parted from my cock with a wet “pop,” and she struggled a bit, trying to maintain her task. When I had her face even with mine again, I kissed her, and this time, without hesitation, she threw her arms around my neck and passionately returned my ardor. When our lips finally parted, she kept clutching me. 

“Why didn’t you let me finish?” she implored. “You were all ready to cum, weren’t you? You were going to gush into my mouth, weren’t you?”

My breathing was labored, and I couldn’t keep the hint of brutality out of my voice when I answered. I was trying to maintain control over my body with sheer will power, but I somehow knew I was about to lose that entirely. “Jenny, I’m going to take you now,” I told her flatly.

“Oh,” she said in a small voice. “Yes. Yes, you should.”

“It’s like you put a beast inside me,” I said through clenched teeth. 

She smile affectionately and stroked the hair along the side of my face. “And you’ve been keeping the beast bottled up inside until now because you wanted to please me first,” she said softly.

I pushed her back and shifted her around until she was lying flat on the couch. I worked my legs between hers. “I’m afraid I’m going to hurt you,” I said. My heart was pounding, my breath ragged and strained, my muscles taught.

“Yes,” she said quietly, looking up at me. “But I want you to, Tim. I’m ready for you. I’ve never been more ready for anything in my whole life.”

My body was between her spread legs now, and without further hesitation, I pushed it upward toward her. She’s a small girl, and I’m a pretty big guy, so in that position, her face was well below my own. It takes a little maneuvering to get things lined up when lovers are of vastly different sizes. My cock slipped moistly past its target until it was resting on her tummy. I pulled back and tried again with no more success. 

“Help me!” I groaned.

She reached down between us and wrapped her little hand around my rigid pole, then she bent it downward until I was finally lined up properly. I began pushing in, and she let go, throwing both arms around my body, burying the side of her face into my neck, and she let out a long, moaning “Oooohhh!” 

I should have stopped. I should have let her rest, so that she could take me into herself by degrees. I should have been more considerate and responsive to her needs. But suddenly, all I could think about was the necessity of fulfilling my most primal need. At least I didn’t impale her with an immediate quick thrust … but I couldn’t get myself to let up on the pressure. I just kept pushing into her, slowly, relentlessly, more and more, inch after inch, until I was fully imbedded in her body. Her chest was heaving against mine, and each exhale produced a moaning little “Mmmmph!”

I pulled out of her half way, rather rapidly, but I kept my forward thrusts slow, steady, strong, and I paused several beats between them. “Oh!” she exclaimed during each thrust. “Mmmmph! Mmmmph!” she breathed in the interim. I was beginning to pick up the tempo, her exclamations keeping pace. But I still wanted to delay … just a little longer; and after a particularly strong forward thrust, I pushed myself upward on my hands so that I could look down on her.

 Instinctively, she raised her good eye toward me. “Mmmmph! Ohhh! Oh, Tim! You’re so deep! You’re so deep … inside … me! Mmmmph! Don’t stop! Please don’t stop!”

And so I began again. Slow, even, steady strokes in, rapid withdrawal, gradually increasing in rhythm … progressively increasing … constantly increasing … always increasing ….  And with an animal howl that I didn’t know I was capable of producing, I clutched her small body to mine, thrust as far into her as I could, and erupted. It seemed to go on forever. Just as I thought I was through, my cock would jerk again, sending a wonderful tingle through my balls, the muscles deep inside me clutching and triggering yet another satisfying spasm throughout my whole body. 

Eventually, with a final moan, I rolled to the side and looked down at my secretary. She, however, half rolled with me, so that my cock remained inside her. “Are you okay, Jenny?” I asked, trying desperately to control my breathing.

“Yes,” she said in a small, meek voice.

“Did I hurt you?” I implored, worried now. I’d really lost control for a minute there.

But she smiled up at me, maintained eye contact for a few seconds, and then looked back down at my chest. Idly, she began playing with my chest hair. “Yes, it hurt a little. Not much, though.” She was quiet for a long minute, while she traced patterns on my chest. Relaxing, almost floating, I began running two fingers through her lush hair. “That was the most intimate thing that’s ever happened to me,” she continued, not looking up. “For twenty-six years, I denied myself to all men. And then … and then it was too late. I didn’t think any man would ever want to do that to me, ever again. I thought I’d die without ever having experienced that. For months now, I’ve been chastising myself for not letting it happen … before. But now … now, I’m glad I waited.” Finally, she looked up at me and smiled brightly. “I’m glad I waited for you.”

She slung her arm up and across my chest, tucked it under her face and rested her chin on it, smiling up at me. “Are you enjoying your one-night-stand, Tim?”

“One-night-stand,” I repeated slowly.

The smile didn’t leave her lips. “Yep. One night of completely guilt-free sex, compliments of a deep-set posthypnotic suggestion. All you have to do is just relax, and in the morning, you don’t have to have any feelings about it at all. And when we come to work on Monday, we’ll act as if nothing happened. I’ll never tell a soul about this, you have my word. But Tim, if you ever want me to take you back into a hypnotic trance, all you have to do is ask me. And … if you’re ever feeling … you know … really lonely, or if you ever feel like you just NEED a sexual release, then I’ll always be here for you. And you have my pledge that I will NEVER try to take advantage of you or tie you down. You have my solemn word.”

“One-night-stand,” I said again.

 “Yes.” She began running a finger around my chest again.  “But … you did it again, you know. You’re always doing it.”

“What is IT that I’m always doing?” I asked, feigning exasperation. 

“Every time I try to do something for nice YOU, you turn it all around and make it into something really nice for ME,” she said. “You’re ALWAYS doing it. Anything I try to do in the office, even the really little things, you always notice and praise me for it. I did a little extra math for your stupid contract, and suddenly you want to take it upon yourself to make me rich. I decide to sacrifice my virginity to make you happy for an evening, and you go and turn it into just about the best night of my whole life!”

I pulled away from her so that my cock finally slipped out of her dripping cunt. Then I moved her so that we were both sitting next to each other on the edge of the couch, facing the center of the office. In this new pose, she evidently felt suddenly exposed and shy. She covered her breasts with her hands and blushed, but finally realized that after sharing such an intimate tryst, there was no need for modesty, so she let her hands fall to her lap. She sat silently, looking down at them. 

“One-night-stand,” I muttered.

“Well, the night isn’t over yet,” she said quietly, almost to herself. “Unless you want it to be. I understand how you might feel. I’ll go home, if you want me to. I won’t be upset. I understand completely. It really doesn’t matter ….”

I stood up abruptly, and she fell silent. I just stood there for a long ten seconds, then I pushed the coffee table savagely away, stepped resolutely in front of her, facing her, fell to my knees and took her hands in mine. She just stared at me for a moment, and then her eyes widened in shock and she began trying to pull her hands free.

“Tim! What in the world do you think you’re doing? Get up!”

“Marry me, Jenny,” I said.

She barked a laugh. “Okay, great joke, Tim. Now, get up!” She tugged at her hands, but I wouldn’t let go.

“You should be taking this a little more seriously,” I chided. “Years from now, our children are going to be sitting beside you in our living room looking at the fireplace, and they’re going to say ‘Tell us about when Daddy proposed to you, Mommy.’ And you’re going to think back dreamily and say ‘Well, it was in Daddy’s office, and we were both bare-ass naked.’”

She threw back her head and laughed merrily. I thought it sounded musical.

“Marry me, Jenny,” I implored.

Still smiling and chuckling, she stood up. Above me now, she had more leverage, and she was finally able to pull her hands out of my grasp. “You’re a certifiable idiot! Get up, Tim!”

But I threw my arms around her hips and pressed the side of my face into her soft, smooth, flat stomach. She laughed again and began stroking her fingers through my hair. 

“Mr. Grant, I will not marry you. You have given me a wonderful evening, but now, I must take my leave of you.”

 “Negotiations are only beginning, and quite frankly, you don’t stand a chance. I’m a professional. In surprisingly short order, I will have closed the deal.”

She kept stroking my hair, and when I looked up at her, I found her returning my gaze with intimate tenderness. “And what kind of deal do you think we’re negotiating?”

“It’s just a simple merger agreement. Practically open and shut. There are only two terms. Why don’t you concede? All you have to do is sign on the dotted line and say ‘I do.’”

She tried to smile, but suddenly she couldn’t. In fact, she looked a little panicked. But she kept stroking my hair as she replied: “And what, exactly, are the two terms?”

“I will always be your knight,” I told her seriously. “And you will always be my queen.”

She blinked down at me. The tears began. “Where do you get all these lines?” she asked with faux levity. “Is there a book of them on one of these shelves, or are you just making this stuff up as you go along?”

“Marry me, Jenny.”

“Tim, don’t! Please don’t do this to me! You know how I feel! Even if you felt that way, too, we couldn’t! We Couldn’t! You’d be committing professional suicide! I’d be an impossible burden to you. They say that behind every good man there’s a good woman; but with an UGLY woman behind you, you’d be ruined!”

“I’ve never wanted any woman behind me,” I told her with utmost sincerity. “I need a woman BESIDE me. One who doesn’t just expect me to provide for her … one who will fight WITH me. One who understands my sacrifices, and isn’t afraid to make sacrifices herself. You went to the trouble of somehow finding out my deepest, darkest secret fantasy, and you made it happen! And I can’t WAIT for you to do it again … and again and again. But more than anything else, tonight you gave me just about the only thing of value you had left in life to give. I need you, Jenny. I love you.”

The tears were coming pretty hard now, but she still didn’t stop stroking my face and hair. “I’m never going to be pretty, Tim. You can take that million dollars, and you can buy me all of the plastic surgery in the world, but I’ll never be pretty again. And people DO matter. What they see and think and whisper about behind your back DOES matter.”

“No … no, they don’t. Some of them, people like Grinsworth, might look with disdain, but they’ll never SEE the girl that I see. They’ll never see the girl beneath the skin. They won’t even try. And those people aren’t worth arguing with. We can handle them, Jenny.” I took a deep breath. “Look, I can’t change the world. I can’t eliminate all the cruelty and injustice and prejudice. And for the rest of your life, you may have to face that. But after tonight, you’ll never have to face it alone.”

There comes a time in the life of a business negotiating session when everyone suddenly realizes that the deal is set. The atmosphere changes. People stop thinking in terms of IF, and start thinking in terms of HOW, instead. Questions still remain; many, many questions. But the biggest question of all has been settled. Oh, it might not have been verbalized yet, but everyone knows what that answer is.

Jenny slowly slipped down and down until she was on her knees in front of me, and she threw her arms around me and clutched me tightly to herself.

“Marry me.” I whispered in her ear.

“Oh, Tim. Oh, gosh, Tim ….”

“If you don’t, I won’t make love to you again tonight,” I threatened.

She laughed through her tears. “Well, now you’re REALLY fighting dirty!”

And I knew had her.

Damn, but I’m a good salesman!
