The Mistress and the Mouse

by JJ Giles

  “Yeah,” she whispered. “Of course he does, unless your mom is jerking you.”

  “I don’t think so. I can’t exactly figure out how this works. Why Alex, a raging queen, would be screwing her, and then she ends up married to Jerry.”

  “That is quite curious. But Jerry never gave me the impression that he thought of you as anything but his son. Or that he adored you. I’ve always been jealous of the relationship you had with Jerry. My father is an asshole. I think I’ll talk to Jerry about adopting me.”

  Amused, he stroked through her hair.

  “But how the hell have you stayed hidden for ten years? I haven’t heard so much as a hint of gossip in the press about the great Brian Abernathy, the world’s most eligible bachelor.”

  “I changed my name. Brian Alexander. And uhh...Morgan’s not too up on current events. Doesn’t watch TV at all.”

  “You must be joking! This woman has the astounding Brian Abernathy in her bed and she thinks you’re just some plebe off the street?”

  Quietly, Brian nodded. “She even paid for my education. Went to drafting school to be a landscape architect. She thought...and thinks I’m just a nobody. She grew up in a little government house.”

  Renee gasped, choked to think of it.

  “Her dad was a truck driver and was killed in an accident when she was six. Her mom married some guy. That guy beat her mother to death when she was sixteen. She’s been on her own ever since. But she's worth millions now and she earned every dime of it.”

  “I can’t imagine!”

  “Started out as a corporate prostitute and then went to school in California to get a license as a sex therapist. She’s good, Renee. Very, very good.”

  Renee’s features lit with wonder. “And you walked out on a wealthy woman, one you’ve been able to live with for ten years who can make every fantasy you’ve ever had come true?”

  “She doesn’t know who I am. And she doesn’t have a lot of respect for people who don’t earn the money they have.”

  “That’s a little prejudicial, isn’t it?”

  “Is it?” Brian asked. “When you think of a woman like Morgan who hasn’t had a scintilla of assistance from anyone other than the parish priest...what would she think of anyone who had it delivered on a platinum platter?”

  Slowly, Renee looked away to ponder. With tears in her eyes, she whispered, “You’ve found someone who truly loves you and not your money.”

  The fluid seeped out of Brian’s heart through his eyes. “I have,” he whispered so bitterly pained. “But she’s in love with who she thinks I am. Not me.”

  “Oh, my Brother,” she whispered as she wrapped around him again only to hold to him while he sobbed. To think that Brian could walk away from everything he was and become someone else only to fall hopelessly in love, but to have to lead a divided life against himself, made her weep as bitterly as did Brian.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Another miserable day presented itself, and Morgan lay around her condo, horribly uninterested in going home. The thought of having to stroke one more person into something gratifying for them was less than attractive...or entertaining.

  Soundlessly, Kitty slipped through the doorway and into her bed. “You need to get out,” she whispered. Gently, she laid her head on Morgan’s ribs and licked at that generous flesh.

  “Where the hell am I supposed to go?”

  “Go get Jerry,” Kitty suggested. “And bring him home.”

  “And do what?”

  “Gee, I don’t know,” Kitty mewed. “One well-hung, interested man and two women? Let’s think on that.”

  Morgan laughed a little as her satined nails slid across Kitty’s cheek. “He turns you on?”

  “He turns you on,” Kitty retorted. “You don’t bottle-feed just anybody, if you hadn’t noticed.”

  Heavily, Morgan sighed with the question that posed. Would the chemistry she felt with Jerry still be there if Brian hadn’t left her...or would it just be easier to ignore if Brian were at home waiting for her?

  The answer wasn’t immediately clear and didn’t seem to want to present itself.

  Kitty reached for the phone. “Tell him to meet you at Fontainebleau.”

  “Oh, hell no,” Morgan rasped. “He’s a client, not a date.”

  “Oh, Morgan,” Kitty cried. “You two are a little too grown-up to consider eating a meal together a date...aren’t you?”

  Haughty bitch, Morgan thought. But there probably was some truth to that. “Alright.” Yet she hesitated, knowing how desperate she was herself.

  * * * *

  After hours on a Wednesday evening, the Abernathy Tower virtually emptied of its daily occupants, Bryant Abernathy popped through Jerry’s door. “Would you like to interview the newest addition to the secretarial pool?”

  Jerry stared a moment as uninterested in the newest ‘secretary’ as he was the latest spring fashions from Milan.

  Noting Jerry’s reticence, Bryant asked, “You doing something else with global consequences?”

  Jerry smirked. “Whatever.”

  The door opened a little further and Bryant moved through it followed by the new company prostitute. Nestled safely in his chair, Jerry studied her femininity a moment, her attitude. She was very submissive and quite attractive even though she appeared to be fourteen years old.

  “How old are you?” he asked.

  “Twenty-three, Mr. Abernathy,” she whispered.

  Jerry nodded. It wasn’t that the girls were getting younger, only that he was getting older. “I’ll be there in a minute,” he said nonchalantly.

  Openly, Bryant stared. The one thing Jerry liked most was watching them strip. And now she was being dismissed to the bedroom. Without further delay, Bryant showed her the way and closed the door on her.

  Jerry laughed. “What’s the matter?”

  “You okay?” a little concerned.

  “Yeah, I’m alright. Wasn’t planning on interviewing anybody tonight.”

  “Since when have you been less than available to test ride a new one?”

  Jerry watched Bryant’s dark simmering eyes a moment. “Since Morgan got here.”

  “Oh shit,” Bryant mewed. “Don’t tell me the astounding Jerome Abernathy has fallen in love?”

  “Fuckwad,” Jerry murmured. He reached for the knot on his tie. “Go get her undressed.”

  “Oh, this is serious,” Bryant teased. “Should I be making some funeral arrangements or something?”

  “Fuck you,” Jerry said laughing.

  “No, really,” Bryant insisted. “How many times have you seen this woman?”

  The answer readily available, he said, “Thirteen.”

  Openly, Bryant stared. “And she’s so astounding you’ve lost interest in every other available woman on the planet?”

  “Yep.”

  “You are in love.”

  With that, Jerry launched out of the chair opening the buttons of his shirt. Without further prodding, he opened the door of the bedchamber attached to his office. There she stood, a little girl, it seemed, quivering and so horribly submissive. Not yet jaded by the world around her.

  “Unless I tell you otherwise,” Jerry started, “when you’re called to my office, you lay back the covers and stand beside the bed naked, and you wait until I arrive.”

  “Yes, Sir,” she whispered. Her head bowed, so stood so horribly self-conscious. So unlike so many others that had passed through. She only glanced at Bryant standing behind Jerry watching her. And then she grasped the thick comforter and sheet, laid them tidily back and slipped out of her skirt.

  Piece by piece her clothing fell to the floor. It wasn’t exactly the tease he enjoyed with others who wanted his attention, but she was young. So very young and inexperienced. What in the world made her want to seek a position as a company prostitute, he couldn’t imagine. Money, maybe.

  He slipped out of his own clothing and moved toward the bed. Slid across the sheets and nestled o
nto a pillow. His fingers wobbled in her direction, a directive to come to him. Yet she hesitated and glanced at Bryant once again.

  “I’ve never been with two before,” she whispered. She was so heartbreakingly submissive, Jerry was starting to like her already.

  “It’s alright,” he assured her. “You’ll learn a lot while you’re here. Now.” He reached out and grabbed her and pulled her into the bed. To feel her quivering flesh in his control, her anxiousness and nervousness, stiffened him a little.

  Rather gently because she felt like a virgin, Jerry guided her face to his neck. The soft suckling of a baby stroked there, her lips gently drawing it in to lick. Tenderly, his fingers brushed through her hair as Bryant stared in disbelief. Whoever this was it wasn’t his brother anymore, someone who would normally break her over the desk and already be pounding her.

  Silently, Jerry laughed at him as he pushed her a little further down to infuriate a nipple for him. Her tongue twisted in the profusion of fur on his chest and she inched a little closer, relaxing into it a little. Her hands encircled his ribs; her cheek gently rubbed the exposed skin between them all the while Jerry laughed at Bryant.

  Unable to control himself any further, Bryant crawled in and widened her legs. He rolled to his back between her parted legs and reached up to tug at the hair there. He forced her a little higher to get his hands on those breasts, breasts not the biggest of them but nonetheless firm and dense.

  Her back arched quite easily to let Bryant have them both. A knee rose over his shoulder and she began to crawl down him, to offer those breasts for his oral enjoyment. A little anxious, Bryant tugged on her, yet she stayed attached to Jerry, stretched out her spine so that Bryant could have her breasts and she might taste of the essence brewing between the boss’ legs.

  “C’mon, Baby,” Bryant ordered. With her hips in his control, he pulled her away from Jerry and forced her sweet little cunt over his cock.

  The first show of any bit of personality was a smile, something that wanted to tease. Her back arched her breasts forward as her hips wiggled a little. Bryant took her breasts, let out a little laugh and forced her down.

  “Much better,” he sighed to feel that enveloping moist heat swallow him up.

  Jerry rolled to his side, the better to watch. Her hips swirled, the better to capture not just Bryant’s penis, but also his attention. Bryant’s thumbs crushed her nipples, yet her eyes darted between Bryant and Jerry’s desire throbbing against Bryant’s shoulder.

  Bryant had only to turn his head to capture Jerry’s cock and swallow it. She moaned; her eyes locked on the sight before her. Jerry nudged a little closer and drove straight into Bryant’s mouth. Only a moment more and she bucked wildly.

  Bryant ruptured into her and bit into Jerry’s penis. His hands went to her hips to still her but she wouldn’t be stilled. Forcefully, he pushed her away and spit Jerry out to lay panting.

  Out loud, Jerry laughed at him. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her forward flattening her face down against the mattress. Bryant wriggled out from under her and Jerry rolled over on her back.

  Still panting, her fingers knotted into the sheets as she lay face down. He felt her quivering again and couldn’t know if it was him or simply that she didn’t have a lot of experience this way. It didn’t matter, he loved this submissiveness she offered him. In some ways, he had forgotten it existed. Although she might have been a little more frisky with Bryant, she totally succumbed to Jerry.

  His penis dallied in the moisture flowing between her legs, just enough to wet it. And then his hips raised and he took aim.

  “This is what I want,” he growled in her ear.

  Instantly, her body stilled to prepare for the attack.

  Much better, he thought. The glans held to that soft wrinkled flesh only a moment. And then it pierced her body like a battering ram and filled her with impossible pain.

  Her body tightened to that incomprehensible pain. Jerry held to her, deep into her as she sobbed a little, shivered uncontrollably with that pain. He merely laid inside of her feeling every precious tremor, every stultifying ache, reveling in every tear, riding every gasping breath.

  “This is always what I want.”

  He felt her relax a little in his inescapable clutch. Did she know she was captured, beyond hope, or did she want it? At the moment it didn’t matter to him. This famine of submissive flesh was perhaps over now.

  Bryant watched as the muscles of Jerry’s ass tightened and he drew slowly out to stab again. He pulled a pillow under his head to listen to her panting, her fragile hold on reality. That Jerry was a master at the Art of Conquest was never questioned in these hallowed halls, but Bryant had never seen it like this. Jerry could swallow up banks, businesses, even boys, but he had never felt Jerry’s incomprehensible power unleashed on a woman. Or been a more a fascinated spectator.

  What it must feel like to be taken by Jerry Abernathy! Lost to himself, wholly attached to Jerry, Bryant watched the slow but deliberate movements of his brother’s body as he pulled almost out of her only to drive in again. Bryant slid his hand under her body to hold to a breast to better connect to her, to feel the shivering inside of her.

  Jerry’s body began to move with a rhythm fit for a dervish. Every stroke was a little more animated. Every thrust a little deeper. Her sobs were contained in a glowing aura of pain. But they also sounded plaintive, as if begging for more.

  It was incomprehensible, an intrusion of wicked malevolence to hear the phone ring. And then Jerry’s secretary announced, “Mr. Abernathy, Morgan McFaye on line eight.”

  Jerry’s face blanched to hear the very name. “Fuck.” And here he lay, his dick driven somewhere other than where it truly wanted to be. “Shit,” he prayed. A horrible sense of guilt for disobeying her commands overwhelmed him.

  Without hesitation, he whispered to the girl, “Don’t you make a sound.” He grasped the phone as if it were salvation and said, “Jerry Abernathy.”

  “Did I catch you in the gym?” She could hear a little breathlessness.

  “No.” He shook off his stupor, trying to seize control of his breathing even though his dick was buried into something soft and warm. “How may I serve?”

  Astounded, Bryant reared back and off the bed. Jerry turned to glare at him, smiled sheepishly, but all he cared about at the moment was Morgan.

  “I have an evening free,” she said. “And you will join me for dinner.”

  His heart leapt to the very thought of it. To spend some time with her wearing clothes. “As you wish. However...” He hesitated to gather the words to best entice her. “...may I offer my penthouse and something fabulous from Fontainebleau for your pleasure?”

  Her own hesitation amused Jerry now. Not so sure of herself as she would like to think she is. Finally, she said, “You may.” Her voice was as stern and firm as everything else about her.

  “Can you give me half an hour?”

  “Thirty minutes,” she replied just to be cantankerous.

  His heart throbbed with the thought she would be in the penthouse tonight. He threw the phone to the table and yanked away from the newest company prostitute.

  “Take her to personnel in the morning,” he ordered. And then he walked out.

  “Hold up, my brother,” Bryant cried and rushed after him into the office. “What the hell?”

  “Later,” Jerry snarled. Quickly he gathered his clothes and then stepped into the elevator stark naked.

  Astounded, Bryant watched Jerry’s leer as the doors slid closed. In shock and completely naked, he stared a moment longer. “Incredible.” Jerry’s in love.

  Without will, he returned to the bedchamber and the newest hire. “You like it like that, Baby?” he asked.

  Her eyes darted over him as she wiggled open a little more.

  Curious, he thought, as he lay down on her and drove into her. So submissive with Jerry, so easy with me.

  * * * *

  It was that ‘kid at Christm
as’ sensation, everything filled with such overwhelming excitement, every nerve tingling with anticipation, as Jerry stepped into the shower. He shaved quickly, poured the shampoo into his hair. That he could coax her into his habitat thrilled him beyond repair.

  Yet the guilt he felt for using the penis against her admonition for any purpose, illicit or otherwise, assuaged him. How carefully she had crafted his psyche to enable him to serve her! When his hammer wielded like a sledge simply wrested his submissives, her command was alluring and subtle. He had been effectively captured, was equally captivated and was ready, willing, and most definitely enabled to think only of her.

  He smiled as he turned off the water. How hopelessly subtle, like the rainbow hiding behind clouds. Yet that rainbow was relentlessly dependent on rain. He couldn’t imagine Morgan being dependent on anything but herself, knowing that when all else fails she resorts to murder.

  “Alright,” he whispered. Quickly, he dried and combed out his hair. “I got to have this woman, she’s definitely interested, but...”

  There was no but. Holding to Morgan was the same as clutching to sand.

  Heavily, he sighed and made his way through the bedroom. He no sooner stepped out of it onto the cold marble-tiled floor of the foyer than he spied her sitting on his black chenille sofa, her hair ablaze, her eyes like a reptile ready to strike.

  He gasped, so utterly beautiful and stark. Such a firm command of femininity with her legs crossed properly, her arms at her sides, her gaze unflinching. As always, her presence left him speechless.

  Only slowly, her hand raised and her fingers tightened to snap. Without hesitation, he could follow that command, and he hied in her direction, his hands held firmly behind his back by his own will now. Solemnly, he offered the horribly aching penis, a penis unsatisfied by a prostitute, for her pleasure.

  Slowly, she reached out and twisted her fingers around it, feeling its rigidness, its heat. She tugged a little and pulled him off-balance. His arms thrust out to steady himself rather than fall on her.