Take It Farther

by Mithras, Laran

  TAKE IT FARTHER

  By

  Laran Mithras

  Other Novellas by Laran Mithras

  Intrusion of the Heart

  The Knight of Her Heart

  My Two Vampire Lovers

  Eclipse of Her Heart

  The Captain of Her Heart

  The Captain of Her Heart: Assassin's Gambit

  The Captain of Her Heart: Pirate's Passion

  Phone Sex With The Neighbors

  DRAGON, SHIFTED

  The Sharing of Carlene

  The Babysitter's Desire

  Two Vampires For Leah

  Loaning Her To My Boss

  CAT, SHIFTED

  Beach Swing

  Lonely Wife

  Taboo Hearts

  Jill Is Watching

  Melting My Ice Queen

  Love and Liberation

  Dee's Desire

  RAVAGED By The Dark Elves

  Short Stories

  by Laran Mithras

  After Her Death (Kindle Only)

  My Wife's Seduction (Kindle Only)

  Cover Photo by WWW.ShutterStock.com

  Take It Farther is a work of fiction. Names, locations and incidents either are a product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Copyright © 2015 - All Rights Reserved

  And do not forget to do good and to share with others, for with such sacrifices God is pleased.

  ~ Hebrews 13:16

  CHAPTER 1

  Bob Patterson died. In fact, he died horribly. He had been doing nothing unusual. Black Friday afforded him the opportunity to grab some Christmas gifts early.

  He had waited patiently at the curb and crossed when the "Walk" sign came on.

  A woman in her SUV, too busy texting, claimed she never even saw him. She had been doing forty-eight in a twenty-five zone. Her SUV was totaled. So was her life, after that.

  But poor Bob's body parts and Christmas presents were scattered over a one hundred and sixty-one foot area. The coroner even scraped a wet piece of his flesh off the plate glass window of Napa Auto Parts.

  Bob Patterson had been an executive at a company that cannot be named.

  I'm Richard Franklin and I was promoted in his spot. I know I might have waited another few years if not for the tragedy. Though I would now be invited to the executive parties thrown by the head of the division, Jacqueline Preston, I knew the Christmas event would not be a time of rejoicing.

  I cannot name the company because we're big. Really big. Very well-known big. So big our former employees tell the President of the United States which positions they will accept in the administration. We run things. We run almost everything the average Joe takes for granted.

  Having done a lot of the footwork on bundling derivatives, I was now an executive who handled shutting down banks. Money is business and our business was power. We took small banks, drove their stock under, then stepped in and bailed out the depositors by buying the bank's assets.

  What the public didn't know, or if they had heard they had dismissed without care, was that we bought those assets for five to ten cents on the dollar.

  That's right. A million dollar cash deposit we picked up for usually less than a hundred thousand dollars. The bad loans? That's what I used to do. We bundled the bad loans and resold them to the public as investments.

  It is so incredibly easy to rip-off the public that we even arranged our own bailout, and the executives went on vacations that made Obama's outings seem like ghetto parties.

  Now I arranged the destruction of banks. My former duties of bundling bad loans got handed to another bright ladder-climber who was probably eager for me to die.

  But I was still young.

  My desk-phone chimed. "Mister Franklin?"

  I pressed the com-button. It was the voice of Jacqueline Preston's personal assistant. "Yes?"

  "Mrs. Preston will see you now."

  "On my way."

  She was one floor up. I buttoned my jacket and swiped my card for the executive elevator. Entering, I waited calmly while the doors closed and it rose smoothly to the next floor.

  I was not nervous. I had been next in line and everyone knew it. I knew Jacqueline and other than being a demanding division lead, she wasn't anyone for me to fear. I did my job and did it very well.

  My phone chimed. Text message from my wife, Jolene. "Love you." She often did that during the day.

  I put the phone back without answering. Wasn't a good time as the doors opened and I was about to talk with the head of the division. I would text her after.

  We loved each other, dearly.

  Carla, the bespectacled secretary with the severe bun, rose from her spacious desk. She led me past the empty conference rooms reserved for important takeovers and to Jacqueline's suite.

  The smooth heavy oak door was pushed open and I was admitted.

  Jacqueline was standing at the window, a folder in hand, looking down at the street eight stories below. Her smart gray business suit went well with the auburn hair shot with gray. She was not a vain or phony woman to dye her hair. She indicated a chair facing a monumental desk. "Sit, Richard."

  "Thank you."

  "I didn't have to worry about giving you the promotion speech when you moved into Bob's position. We're fortunate you worked with him so closely."

  I looked down. It was the proper thing to do.

  "You're invited to the Christmas party, of course. I'll have Carla put you on the invitation list. You're married, correct?"

  I knew she knew I was, but sometimes things changed with people. "Yes. Jolene."

  "Bring her. It's semi-formal attire; we're not trying to impress anyone."

  I nodded.

  She moved to her desk and dropped the folder on it - some dossier on some bank or other. "I'm sure I don't need to remind you how delicate our work is."

  "No ma'am."

  "This kind of position might give one the irresistible itch to brag to one's friends. Don't fall for the temptation."

  "No, ma'am."

  "We do what we do quietly."

  "Of course."

  "Avoid strange new women."

  "Ma'am?"

  "Snoops. Reporters. Keep your nose clean."

  I nodded. "Ah, yes. Bob spoke of such things. I do everything with my wife. No reporter is going to find me at a bar on my own."

  She took a breath and nodded. "Welcome to the executive leagues, Richard." She indicated the door.

  I stood and gently shook her hand.

  Carla was typing on the computer at her desk. She said without looking, "I've added you to the executive mail list. I'm sending a few things to you now."

  "Thank you."

  She didn't look at me and I didn't expect her to.

  I entered the elevator back down to my office. I'm a handsome man; my wife tells me so. I eat right and my physique is slim. But at the company we work for, the very atmosphere is sexless. No, Carla would not look at me with admiring eyes, even if she might have thought I was attractive.

  Power was like that.

  I texted my wife back. "Love you too. We're invited to the Christmas party."

  She sent a few minutes later. "Formal?"

  "Semi."

  "Whew. What a relief."

  I sent, "See you in a few."

  ~ ~ ~

  I drove an S-Class Mercedes. I had been making that much money before. I would almost double that with my new position. But it wasn't a windfall surprise like winning a lottery ticket. I had earned it and expected it.

  I pulled into our McMansion as Jolene called it. Planned community, huge gated circular drive. Very posh. Still have a few years left on the mortgage which we were overpaying by a very large amount.

 
; Her BMW was in the garage. She worked as head administrator of the school district, right under the publicly elected position.

  She was in the kitchen.

  My wife is handsome. I say handsome because her plain features would not be considered runway-model material. But she has a feminine grace that oozes beauty and sexuality. Her straight black hair was silk in my fingers and her pale skin often reminded me of Morticia from the Addams Family.

  She planted a kiss on my lips that left me smiling. She always makes me smile.

  "Smells good," I said.

  "Garlic chicken. With rice."

  "Mmm."

  "How was Jacqueline?"

  I sat on the wrought-iron stool at the counter. "Like I expected. She even warned me about strange women."

  "No flirting?" She gave me a questioning eyebrow.

  "With her? Heavens no. It's not like that there."

  "I find it hard to believe no one even looks at you."

  I just shook my head.

  ~ ~ ~

  She smiled at me from bed. It was our night.

  I winked. "Someone made you hot?"

  It was our thing. We roleplayed her being hit on by other men. Lately it was some young guy at the district offices, but I suspected he was totally imaginary.

  "Mmm, yes. He brushed up against me today. I swear I felt his bulge."

  I climbed over her, naked, and laid next to her. My hand moved down to her pussy. "So you think you might have felt him?"

  "Yes." She smiled as I toyed.

  "Was he hard?"

  She gripped my soft shaft. "A little harder than this."

  I dipped a finger into her hole. "I think you should accidentally grab him tomorrow. Feel him with your hand."

  "Ooo, you're naughty."

  "I bet he'd like it." I was hardening. I moved down and placed my mouth over her clit. "Maybe he dreams of licking you." One touch of my tongue was all it took. I knew what set her off – the words, the lick.

  She convulsed, gasping and holding my head with clutching fingers. She laughed. "Darn you."

  "What?" I gave her a grin.

  "I wanted to enjoy that a little more." She quivered and convulsed one more time.

  I climbed up and slid into her. Her pussy was pure velvet. I'm not a big, hung man that way. Neither am I small. My six inches is right for my frame and reaches the end of her canal. She says it's a perfect fit. I can say that it does indeed seem to be like a snug glove.

  Her eyes squeezed shut under me with a look of concentration. Her gasps were light, ending with a tiny moan at each thrust. She moved with me, her hips rotating to meet mine.

  She's great in bed and I'm a lucky man.

  CHAPTER 2

  Jolene held up the dress to her. "Think it's okay?"

  I was lying in bed, reading a magazine. Saturday night and I'm reading a business rag that thinks it understands why the banks are closing. Most of the big editors knew. The media heads were all in on our rape of American wealth.

  Americans thought they were rich. But ninety-eight percent of all the money in America was held by the top one percent of people. The media strung along the Joes with stories of middle class taxes and the like. The Joe just bobbled his head like it was on a spring and repeated what he heard on the TV.

  The elite in America had forced the collateralization of labor. Pure and simple. In other words, Americans slaved their labor away endlessly to enrich the wealthy.

  I gave her dress a critical look. It was a nice blue number with elbow-length sleeves. It looked perfect. I told her so.

  "Are you sure? I can go red."

  "No, don't do red. Too gaudy."

  "Even for Christmas?"

  "Trust me. You picked the perfect color."

  Her smile was appreciative.

  ~ ~ ~

  The Christmas party was at the division offices. My ID card got us into the underground parking past the guard and also onto the elevator.

  Jolene said, "Wow. This almost feels like the CIA or something."

  "Security is tight. What we do must remain hidden from public knowledge."

  "Are you positive what's going on is legal? I wouldn't want to—"

  "Jolene. We write the laws. Congress doesn't sneeze without our permission."

  "But those panels and hearings?"

  I shook my head. "We make two billion on a move and the SEC or Congress arranges a fine of two hundred million so the media can make us seem like we answer to government. It's all a show."

  "But two hundred million…"

  "Out of two billion. Do the math. It's quite a profit."

  She gave me a look but shook her head. She didn't entirely approve of what I did, but she couldn't find a viable argument as to why I should quit. As long as I didn't try to rip-off my own company, I was just as much above the law as they were.

  A chime on the elevator signaled the banquet floor.

  Though everyone called it the Christmas party, there was nothing of Christmas about the decorations. That kind of display was forbidden. Everything was decorated in blue and silver, as was the custom.

  Any gifts given out were wrapped in neutral or Hannukah paper.

  I led Jolene in past a nodding guard.

  A young woman greeted us with a clipboard. She said, "Welcome. And you are?" She looked down at the list.

  "Richard and Jolene Franklin."

  She smiled. "Right this way."

  Jolene said, "She doesn't know you yet?"

  I leaned close. "Hired help for the event. She doesn't work for us."

  My wife nodded in understanding.

  The woman plucked a card from a table and indicated our seats with a smile. "These are your seats. The snack buffet is open and so is the bar. Enjoy your evening."

  I pulled off my wife's coat and hung it over the chair. I did the same with mine. We weren't early and there were other people mingling.

  "Drinks?" said Jolene.

  "My thoughts, exactly." I escorted her to the bar. A few couples were there.

  I introduced my wife to them with the practiced civility of dealing with bank managers.

  Jolene said to the bartender, "Pina Colada?" She loved those.

  I said, "Rum straight. On the rocks, please."

  Our drinks were made with moves that said this man had served bar for years.

  Drinks in hand, we turned back.

  "Richard." Jacqueline was smiling.

  I indicated my wife. "This is my wife, Jolene."

  Jacqueline's face lit up in a smile I normally did not see on her. "I'm Jacqueline Preston, head of the division. This is my husband, Walter."

  I had never met Walter. He was about my height, handsome and looked to have a swimmer's body. He had a touch of bad-boy look about him but his eyes had that distinguished polish bad-boys never attained. We all shook hands.

  Walter held Jolene's hand after the shake, up, as if about to lead her to dance. "What do you do for a living?"

  Jolene blushed. "I'm head administrator at the school district. It's a very secure occupation."

  He nodded slowly. "Those positions require attention to detail and efficiency. I broker insurance bundles."

  "Insurance bundles?"

  I shot Jacqueline a glance.

  She gave me a wicked smile.

  Walter said, "My wife here often has me broker debt derivatives to insurance companies."

  Jacqueline winked at me. "Someone has to do it."

  I understood that mentality entirely and I had no problem with it. Much of the kind of business we did was "kept in the family" as much as possible. I said, "Lucky man." Brokering meant he moved it along. He didn't have to base anything of his asset value on debt. He just collected money from companies forced to base their assets in debt.

  Jolene tinkled a small laugh. "Is it exciting?"

  Walter smirked. "Hell no. Are you kidding? But it's lucrative." He turned to me. "Richard, I believe your charming wife and I are on the verge of an interesti
ng conversation. May I? I'm sure Jacqueline wants to talk with you, anyway."

  I raised my glass. "Of course."

  Jacqueline moved to stand beside me and watched her husband and my wife move over to the lounge area.

  Walter sat in a comfy chair while my wife sat on a couch. They were already talking.

  My boss sighed. "I know my husband so well."

  "Hmm?" I sipped my rum.

  She took my arm. "Come."

  We walked over to her table and we sat.

  She said, "What's the one thing you notice about the women here, tonight?"

  "I don't make a habit of checking out—"

  She touched my arm. It was a gesture, not flirtatious. I know when someone is flirting. "I don't mean to imply you do. I meant on the surface?"

  I looked around. Various dress colors were in evidence. Only one in red. I said, "Most have had the decency not to go gaudy."

  She chuckled. "You mean Elaine in her red dress? I think she's already drunk. She was probably plastered when she bought the thing."

  I didn't know what to say to that.

  She said, "But I wasn't talking about dresses."

  "No?"

  She motioned her own drink around. "Notice that most of the women are blonde."

  I took notice. Better than half were blonde, most likely fake. There were a few redheads and a couple auburns. Several brunettes and almost all of those looked dyed. "Oh, yes." I did not mention dye color. Wasn't sure how you talk about that around a woman who doesn't dye her hair. Would she be offended? Defensive? Best to keep my mouth shut.

  "Walter appreciates women with naturally dark hair, especially black, even if it has gray or white in it."

  I looked over at Jolene. They were still talking. She was leaned forward, forearms on her knees and holding her glass out. Her head was tilted as she talked to Walter on her left. "Ah. So he appreciates my wife, then."

  She looked at me for a moment. "Maybe I should say more than appreciates."

  I gave her a look. "What do you mean?"

  She pursed her lips. "Have you ever wondered what it would be like for your wife to flirt with other men?"