Time started moving again and all the sounds of mid-town traffic and lunch time office workers crowded back into my senses.
Fuck.
What was I thinking… this wasn't an invention, it was a pair of underwear for Christ's sake.
"That's not what I meant. I didn’t mean to say that."
Then something happened that couldn’t have happened under any other circumstances. My partners call me the cold blooded killer because I never, ever allow emotion to sway any of my business decisions, but now here I was offering ten grand to a female employee for a pair of her panties and worst of all I had begun to blush.
"I'll take it." She whispered and it left me breathless.
She never blinked, her mouth had barely moved. It was unlike anything I've ever experienced with a woman before and even now I can’t fully explain it. Even now I get hard thinking about it.
We going to do this.
I would get what I wanted, just like I always did, but I would also get something I hadn't even known I wanted so much. Something of hers I burned to have in my possession.
"I want the ones in the photo. The ones you offered to me last night."
"The ones I was hot in." She was barely audible but every word rocked me like she was using a bullhorn and my cock went rigid.
I swallowed hard.
She was fucking with me and I loved it, but I would love it even more when she realized who she was dealing with and what I really wanted. Sure I wanted the panties but only because of what they were hiding underneath. What I wanted was her. In my bed. Underneath me. Body and soul.
"Yes." I forced the words out. "Those ones. I can pay cash. Check or bank transfer if you prefer."
"Cash. I'll take cash."
"Of course."
"And I want to present to you. I want to make my pitch."
"I don't need that. I just need…" I couldn't say it. I'm never stuck for words. It was bizarre. Bizarre. How could I say those words; 'I just need your panties'? It was absurd. It was weak - my weakness - and above all, this wasn't my thing. She would think it was my thing, but it was emphatically not. I do not have fetishes, but right there and then at that moment what I needed to have more than anything else in the world was what I had seen in that picture. I needed to own and possess what had been so intimately close to her but had then been offered to me out of the pure, batshit-crazy blue.
"You need my panties. Go on, say it and then pretend to yourself that you aren't some kind of pervert."
"I'm not a pervert."
She smiled and leaned closer in towards me. I felt her breath on my skin, her perfume filled my breath and, God damn it, her cleavage was undeniable, right there under my nose. I couldn’t think straight. It was like I'd been clubbed over the head and then force fed a fifth of Stolichnaya Vodka.
She barely moved her lips.
"I have them with me." She said.
Fuck.
It was what I had wanted to know but hadn't dared ask. Women. Complicated. Unpredictable. This little tease would have to be tamed.
"I told you I want them."
"I'll need cash first."
"I'll need to see them."
"Of course. Of course you will." She pulled back from me, her demeanor changing again from temptress to earnest young inventor. "And I'll need to present to you. That's my condition. Give me a chance Vincent.. Mr. Medici, that's all I'm asking. You don’t have to even pretend you're interested unless you honestly see the potential in my idea."
"I never pretend to be interested in something I'm not." I said. "I need to know if you're wearing them now."
Anything could have happened in that moment. There was just a little moisture on her lips - a hint. She was wearing gloss. Her hands were resting on her knees. Her fingernails were short. I'd noticed it before. For some reason, it turned me on like crazy.
"Yes." She said. "I'm wearing them now."
My eyes darted down before I could stop them to her perfectly rounded ass, her hips, her neatly crossed legs. Yes. Fuck. They were there, snugly wrapped up underneath her skirt and fitting closely all around her.
"Don’t take them off." I said, not knowing from what part of me those words had come. "I will take them off you. That's my condition. We've got a deal, but that is my condition." She didn't move, didn't speak but I could tell she was getting off on this - even if it was only for the money - but I would make damn sure it would be more than the money that got her off when I made her undress in front of me. If she had been hot in those panties before, I wanted to make sure they were well used by the time I got my hands on them - I needed to know that it was me that had made her hot in them, no-one else. Then they would be worth every penny of that ten thousand dollars and more.
"Did you hear me? I'll pay the money in cash and you can pitch your idea to me, out of hours, in my office, with my full attention, but you have to fulfill my condition and honor my request."
She nodded her head and I was glad I was sitting down because the world swayed. We had a deal.
"I need to get back to work now Mr. Medici." She uncrossed those pretty legs and stood up quickly - leaving me stranded. My cock was too hard for me to go anywhere. I was trapped and I swear the dirty little tease knew it all along.
"You go on back to work." I said. "I wouldn’t want you to get in trouble with your boss." She might be the one walking away, but I wanted to remind her who was in charge. "We can discuss terms and conditions later. In my office. I'll send you details."
"Very good." She glanced over her shoulder. God almighty."I'll be waiting for those details."
"Very good."
She walked away with the afternoon sunshine on her hair and the sexiest hint of a sashay in her step. I wanted to rip that perfectly neat receptionist outfit apart with my bare hands and tear those ten thousand dollar panties from her with my teeth.
"Remember the condition." I called after her. "Don't change a thing. Not a thing until they're mine."
She smiled briefly over her shoulder again and then strolled away. The thought of those cotton panties hidden under there was driving me wild. I literally could not take my eyes off her. I sat there for at least ten minutes after she went out of view before things were finally under control again.
I was just getting ready to leave when I heard that voice I hadn't heard in months and which I would have preferred never to have heard again.
"Hi there gorgeous." She said sitting down next to me, uninvited. "Did you get my text?"
Chapter Six
I thought my legs would buckle like Play-Doh as I walked away from him. I was still racking my brains as to how the hell my picture could have ended up in his phone but one thing was abundantly clear - Clarissa was up to her neck in this. I had tried calling her earlier that morning but she wasn't picking up. It was certainly within the realms of possibility that she knew Vincent Medici, even that she had fucked him on some occasion and then sent him the so-called 'sext' because she knew he'd be interested in what I was offering.
After all, as surreal as it all had been, the guy had made an offer for the item in question in the end.
How a man so hot and so obviously smart could be willing to pay that amount of money for what was essentially dirty laundry was beyond me.
But had she fucked him?
The thought made me more angry than it should have. Why should I care? So what if she had? The woman's sex life had nothing to do with me, or at least it hadn’t until she had turned herself into my panty-pimp and almost screwed up my chances of ever being taken seriously by the venture capitalist most like to be interested in my project .
She had some explaining to do.
On the other hand, I had just secured a deal worth ten thousand dollars as a result. I was confused. I didn’t know if I wanted to punch her lights out or take her out on the town.
Thomas Edison once said that opportunity is missed by most people because it is dressed in overalls and looks like work. My dad was a big Th
omas Edison fan. He quoted him a lot and it obviously rubbed off on me. However, what the great inventor never mentioned is that sometimes opportunity is dressed to kill, looks like a manicured movie star and wants to get into your pants with the obsessive determination of a demon.
Sure Vincent Medici might be have been just humoring my desire to pitch to him because he was a huge panty pervert, but aren't we all a little bit perverted our own way? Isn't the whole idea of sex one big perversion common to all living, sexual beings anyway? Who are we to judge what other people get off on as long as nobody gets hurt?
Too philosophical.
I needed to stay on message - focus on the patent, forget about the panties.
Luckily I had presented my idea to Lombard and Day only a week beforehand so it was still fresh in my mind and by now my patter was down to a perfect tee. All I needed was to get my laptop and the functional prototypes I had put all of my savings and credit into and I would be ready to go.
Dirty panties and all.
Shit.
Focus on the patent, forget about the panties.
It was all too weird. What is with men and these fetishes? Big asses, small asses, toes, shoes, hair, no hair, dirty panties.
Fuck.
Patent, not panties.
Clarissa had made me say things. The memories were coming back. It was true that there wasn't only a text, there had been a recording as well.
How could Clarissa have done this to me?
It was then I realized something else. The only thing worse than Clarissa sending that text to Vincent was her not having sent it.
Think about that one.
What if she sent it to someone else who then forwarded it to him and to who knows how many other people? What if it got loaded up on YouTube and went viral?
I felt the blood drain from my face.
I looked around at the busy Manhattan crowd - all the rich looking business types in their dark suits. They all looked so serious, just like Vincent Medici, but like him, were they all really only thinking about their next dirty little kick? And worse, how many of them might have already seen me doing those things, making those offers that I could hardly remember?
I began to feel dizzy.
How could I have been so damn stupid?
At least it hadn’t been just me. There was also that. Jean had made a fool out of herself too - level headed, steady, mature Jean. I wasn't alone in this. She had agreed to this insanity as well so maybe it really wasn't that crazy?
I was clutching at straws but at least there were two of us involved and we could ride this thing out together supporting each other.
I wonder how far the infamously determined Thomas Edison have gone to raise investment capital for an idea? Western Union famously offered him the sum of ten thousand dollars for his invention of the telegraph. It was a small fortune back then. Would they have offered him that much if all he had to offer was a pair of his dirty shorts?
*******************
'Seven thirty PM. My mid-town office.' That's what the text said. I texted back that I would need until eight. He texted back that his car would pick me up from my place if I had trouble arriving on time. He also asked me how badly I wanted to make this pitch.
Asshole. He had me over a barrel. The ten thousand dollars was a huge draw, but it was the pitch that really had me willing to act like his dirty little plaything. If I wanted him to invest in me then I needed to play by his rules.
For now.
I texted my address back to him and thanked him for the ride. I wondered was the car for me as an inventor or me as his Friday night entertainment.
Another text came through.
'Make sure you're wearing them.'
Bastard. Two could play at that game.
'Make sure you have ten thousand in cash for the well-used underwear which I am now wearing. Please confirm.'
There was a short wait.
'Confirmed.'
Now it was official. Vincent Medici, well known Manhattan venture capitalist, was on the record as a panty-craving pervert.
It was possible. Little by little, the power dynamic of this totally unfair relationship could turn. But would I do that? Would I use an indiscretion like this to gain an unfair advantage over someone? When did I become that person?
******************
I arrived home that evening to find Clarissa and Jean already in the apartment. I entered in silence. The two women were huddled together in the kitchen over Clarissa's iPad. I hadn't seen them that morning because I had to leave early to get across town to Medici's building. Now, bizarrely, it felt as though I were doing some kind of 'walk of shame' after the events of the previous night. But what did I have to be ashamed about? Clarissa was the ringleader in all of this and she had some explaining to do.
"Why haven't you answered my calls?" I said. "I've been trying to reach you all day. I've got some questions for you and I don't want any screwing around."
The look she gave me offered nothing, betrayed less.
"Let's talk about your bids first."
She was definitely good at this. That wasn't the response I had expected and she knew it.
"I'm not interested. We need to talk." I said the words but how could I not be curious?
"Don’t be so uptight Mother Superior, come on, you have got to see these. I don’t know what it was about your slutty little booty call but I have never seen anything like this before."
"Yeah! Come on Vic, don't be so stiff!" Jean added in her two cents worth. I glared at her.
"Isn't this mess Clarissa has gotten us into bad enough without you encouraging her?"
"What mess?" Jean said innocently. "And what 'us'?"
"Yes Victoria, exactly what 'mess' are you talking about?" Clarissa could look very innocent when she wanted to.
"How about you sending pictures of me, that were clearly intended to be a private joke, to random men in your contact list? I'd call that a mess, wouldn’t you? Those guys can now send out those pictures to anyone they want or post them to any site on the internet they choose. What are Jean and I supposed to now?"
"Don’t worry about me." Jean said. "Clarissa didn’t send out any of my pictures to her perv list. Why would you even think I would allow her to do that?"
The backpack I was carrying thudded to the floor.
"Say that one more time for me Jean?"
She laughed nervously and looked to Clarissa for help.
"You heard what she said Victoria. Did you really think a corporate accountant with a career to think of would ever do something as crazy, as irresponsible and so downright thrilling as that?"
My chest tightened, my breathing began to feel labored. Clarissa was looking straight at me without a shred of shame or remorse in her eyes.
"We both know that Jean is way too uptight to ever do anything as exciting as make ten thousand bucks from a hot millionaire's desire to own her drawers. You on the other hand, with your non-career and professional anonymity, have nothing whatsoever to lose, everything to gain and a set of virtual balls in your possession that make Jean here look like a eunuch."
I had been fucked. The realization hit me like a cold slap between the eyes.
My two best and only friends in this cruel make or break city had royally fucked me in the ass without so much as a kiss on the lips to soften things up.
I began walking towards Clarissa. My legs felt unsteady and I wasn't sure what I was going to do, but I knew I would do something. The brazen bitch stood her ground but raised her iPad like a shield. I grabbed a stick of French bread that was lying on the kitchen counter and advanced towards her.
"I have an offer of five thousand dollars for those stinky drawers of yours from a guy that half of Manhattan would give their left tit to have the opportunity to drop their panties for." She lowered the iPad and squared up to me. "The female half."
Jean was nodding her head like a half-wit beside us. She knew she had betrayed me. I looked at her, st
ill breathing hard, struggling to control my sense of disappointment and betrayal.
"We were in on this together Jean. How could you do that to me."
I swung the French bread at her but it broke in mid-air before it reached her head.
I stood there like a fool with the remainder in my hand, the rest in pieces on the floor.
"Nobody said anything about being in anything together." She pleaded. "It was a joke - just dumb girl talk. I thought you knew that."
I put the broken stick down and collapsed onto a counter stool.
"How could I have been such an idiot?"
"You're not an idiot." Clarissa said authoritatively. "This one's the idiot." She took a swipe at Jean, clipping her on the shoulder. "Now stop being a loser and look at this guy." She shoved the iPad under my nose. "Read his message and then tell me when you can meet him."
The guy in the picture was impossibly good-looking - the pretty boy handsome type - but he was definitely not my type.
Not like Vincent Medici.
The thought of that angered me. Since when had that arrogant ass Medici become my standard for hot men?
"Stop ogling and read." Clarissa commanded.
The message read as follows: 'I want them. Five thousand dollars. Tell her to name the place. Love, Evan.'
A good looking man was offering me 5k for a single pair of my used underwear but all I could think about was Vincent Medici. It was true that I found him attractive. Despite everything, despite not wanting to. In fact the truth was that in the park when he had said he would buy what I had to offer it had been an incredible turn on. So incredible that, let's just say that if we did go through with this thing that he would be getting exactly what he wanted in terms of 'use' of the garment.
The thought of him risking himself so much for this, for something so insignificant to me, but obviously so important to him… it was unlike any male-female dynamic I had ever been involved in.
But my attraction to him hadn't started there. It was when he pushed my hand back down to the phone in lobby of his building - the strength and confidence of his touch - I could feel what that big male hand would do to me, what it would do to my body if I gave him the chance and I wanted to give him that chance. Then when he had finally blurted out that he wanted what I had to offer it went through me like ten thousand volts. I was physically, emotionally and psychologically turned on and my response to him had came tumbling out without any forethought or semblance of a logical plan.
WEAK Part One: A Thornhill Road Romance Page 5
