by Donna Hill
“I … I c-couldn’t do that.”
She noticed his stutter and wondered if it was natural or nerves. “Please.” She pressed a bit closer, giving him a whiff of her Dior.
His doughboy faced flushed; the Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. “If y-you insist.”
Eva leaned in. Her breasts brushed his chest. “I’m sorry. What did you say It’s so noisy in here.”
Perspiration dotted his upper lip. “Uh, the d-drink. That would be f-fine.”
She turned to the bar, got the bartender’s attention. “One more for the gentleman.”
Eva leaned toward the mark and in his ear said, “My name is Leslie. And yours”
“S-Stan. Stan Ingram.” He licked thin pink lips.
“Pleasure.” The word was a hot puff of air. She felt him shiver. Eva put her purse on the counter and hopped up on the stool, her shirt rising to a dangerous height. “So what brings you here” she asked, keeping her voice low, forcing him to lean in to hear her.
“Convention,” he shouted.
Eva nodded. “You’re with the group”
“Huh”
She crooked her finger. He leaned his head toward her. She repeated her question.
“Yes. I … I a-am.”
Their drinks arrived. She raised her glass. “To … hmmm … new friends.”
His pale blue eyes almost sparkled. He clinked his glass against hers.
“So, Stan, what do you do”
He launched into a banal, mind-numbing monologue about his job at the bank, how long he’d been there, his grandiose plans for the future.
Eva pretended to listen, smiling, nodding and offering the appropriate hmm umms in all the right places. In reality, she was doing a quick calculation: ten years at the bank, four as VP of financial securities. He should easily rake in a cool hundred-grand-plus, not including perks. One more thing she needed to check.
“It must be hard on your wife when you have to travel.”
He cleared his throat, adjusted his navy pin-striped tie. His cheeks grew rosy. “Lenora unders-stands. S-she knows it’s p-part of the j-job.”
“That’s wonderful. Tell me more.” She signaled for another round of drinks.
* * *
“Listen, I am so glad you suggested we get out of that bar,” Eva said, wrinkling her nose. They walked toward the elevator. “It was so hard to hear you. And your life seems so fascinating. I’ve never met a vice president before.”
He blushed crimson. No one ever complimented Stan Ingram. Most folks generally ignored him, even his wife, of late. To have this gorgeous woman hang on to his every word was the kind of ego boost that Stan only dreamed of. She smelled good, looked good. She didn’t laugh at his stutter, but rather at his jokes. No one laughed at Stan’s jokes. Not even his wife. This woman was interested in what he had to say. She asked questions. She touched him when she spoke or laughed. No one touched him. Not even his wife. He couldn’t remember the last time he and Lenora had a conversation—a real conversation, one that didn’t center around her achievements and his lack thereof. Lenora was a beautiful woman too. But her dark-haired beauty had become cold, distant, and calculated. Still, he couldn’t let her go. He remained mesmerized by the fact that she’d allowed him into her life, to partake of her bed, to experience the wonders of her body. He was trapped. But while he was with Leslie, he could pretend that none of that mattered.
“We could order room service. I-if y-you’re hungry.” He swallowed.
Eva turned to him and smiled. “I’m starving.” She ran her tongue slowly across her lips.
The elevator dinged. They went up to Stan’s room.
This should be over in an hour, tops. Eva followed Stan inside.
* * *
Eva tossed their things into the suitcases, squashing Jake’s shirts like dirty laundry. Another vacation blown to hell—and their anniversary, at that. She threw eye-daggers at him. He was busy checking the photos. He went over them one by one—a second time, then a third and fourth. Eva slammed a suitcase shut, leaving the sleeves of his good shirt dangling like broken wings.
“Should have gotten this one from a better angle.” He held up the picture and scrutinized it again.
Eva took aim and fired. Jake saw the sneaker from the corner of his eye, ducked just in time as it whizzed by his ear.
“Hey!” He held his ear, looked down at the rubber and cloth missile and then at his wife. “What was that for”
Eva stomped her foot. Her cheeks flared in indignation. “You know good and gotdamned well what that was for, Jake Kelly! You ruined our anniversary—again! Instead of relaxing by the pool with … with drinks decorated with little umbrellas, we’re running our asses out of here to get on the next plane.”
Fury and frustration boiled inside her until they erupted in hot tears that splashed over her cheeks.
“Baby, Eva…”
“Don’t fuckin’ ‘baby, Eva’ me. Not this time.” She balled up his Hugo Boss jacket and dumped it in the next suitcase.
Jake winced. He hated when Eva was upset, especially at him. The plane ride home was going to be hell. He and his wardrobe were going to pay.
He dared look at her. “I did it for us. For our security.” He slowly came toward her. He held her shoulders. She looked away. “I’ll make it up to you. I swear.”
Eva sighed. She looked at him then pushed him hard in the chest. “You’d better.” The rush of the sting was fading fast.
The knot in Jake’s gut released. “You were brilliant, as always.” His voice wrapped around her, reeled her in.
A slow smile of appreciation inched across her mouth. “I was, wasn’t I”
“It’s in your blood, baby. Just like it’s in mine.” He grabbed her hips and pulled her between his hard thighs. “It turns you on just like it does for me.”
She arched her neck back and drew in a long breath. “Yesss.” Her lids drifted down over her eyes. She lowered her head and then looked up into his eyes.
Damn, he wanted her. A job always did that to him.
“This is the last time, right” she cooed as she stroked the inside of his thighs. “We’re going to take the money and run. Right”
His heart pounded, pumped blood to his groin. His penis throbbed. He moved against her to gain some relief. “Nobody like you, babe,” he said against her neck, his breath like fire on her skin. “Whatever you want.”
Eva unbuttoned her blouse. Jake groaned in delight.
“I just have a bad feeling about this, Jake.” She sucked in a sharp breath when his tongue teased a nipple. She pulled the black wig off her head and tossed it on the floor.
“Don’t be silly.” He unzipped her skirt from the back, and it followed the wig. “What could possibly go wrong”
3
“Hey, Eva,” Tara, the office assistant, greeted when Eva walked into Sebastian’s design studio Monday morning. “How was your weekend Did you and Jake celebrate your anniversary in style”
Eva popped a smile. “It was great. We went to Vegas for the weekend. It’s where we met.”
Tara grinned with good-natured envy. “You guys are so lucky.”
“Yeah, I guess we are.” She tossed her handbag over her shoulder and sauntered into her small office.
No one had a clue about her and Jake’s other life. They were always careful about taking care of business out of town, away from familiar faces. They’d been lucky. But for reasons that she could not shake, she had real misgivings about this last caper. Maybe she was getting old, sentimental. But, Jake was right. They were masters. Years of success as a team proved it.
Still, she longed for a regular life. He’d promised that this would be their last job. But what if a regular life wasn’t enough This life was all she knew. It was pretty hard to imagine anything else.
Her cell phone rang. It was Jake.
“Got everything together,” he said. “It’s in the mail.”
“Great.”
�
�We’ll give Mr. Ingram a call in a couple of days.”
“See you tonight.”
“Have a great day, baby.”
Eva disconnected the call. She twisted her lips. This was it. No turning back now.
TWO DAYS LATER
Stan Ingram ambled into his office. How he hated his job, his mundane life. This was not how he envisioned his future, trapped.
He turned on his computer and opened the files awaiting him on his desk, but he couldn’t focus. All he could think about for the past few days was Leslie. The last thing he remembered was taking her to his room and her getting undressed. When he woke up, he was naked and she was gone. The whole episode was a blur. A better description was a blank. Had he been able to perform Was it as good in reality as it was in his mind Leslie.
A sharp knock on his door jerked him back to reality.
“Come in.”
“Your mail, Mr. Ingram.”
“Thank you, Linda.”
She put the mail in his in-box. “You have a meeting at ten.”
Stan nodded, reached for the stack of mail, and shuffled through it.
Linda looked at him for a moment, shook her head, and walked out.
Just the usual stuff. Stan tossed the envelopes aside one at a time until he came to a thick brown one. He frowned, reached for the letter opener, and slit open the envelope.
He gasped, grabbed his chest. A handful of color photographs of him, bare-assed naked with … Leslie on top, stared back at him.
His stomach rushed to his chest. Bile burned the back of his throat. He blinked hard. Must be some kind of optical illusion, his imagination gone wild.
His hands shook as he picked up the pictures, stared at them in terrified disbelief.
His eyes were closed, but he was smiling … or so it appeared. Leslie straddled him. Her naked back faced the camera. Her head was tossed back in a vision of ecstasy. Her black hair hung across her shoulders. Another photo was of him again on his back with Leslie leaning toward his erection, her mouth opened wide.
“Oh my God. Oh m-my God.” He grabbed his chest. His heart was out of control. Sweat ran down the center of his back. The room swayed in and out of focus. What did this all mean Oh God.
The phone screamed. He yelped in shock. He looked at the flashing light. The ring pierced the room again. A wave of nausea loosened his bowels. He reflexively squeezed his butt cheeks to keep from having an ugly accident. Ring!
He forced himself to concentrate, drag his hand toward the phone. He swallowed a nasty taste in his mouth.
“In-g-gram,” he stammered. He struggled with his tie, which was choking off his breath.
“Did you get my present”
His head spun. “I—I don’t know what y-you’re talking about.”
“Oh, I think you do. Maybe you can’t talk right now, so just listen. Okay You have three days to put together fifty thousand dollars in small bills. You’ll get a call on day three. Be sure to answer the phone, Stan. I’d hate to have to leave a message. Oh, and one last thing. If you don’t have the money, if you don’t answer the phone, the next delivery will be to your wife, then your boss, then … Well who knows. There are just so many options. Oh, yes, and just like they do on TV, we have copies and a video! Have a great day, Stan. And by the way, you were marvelous!”
Stan Ingram barely made it into the stall of the men’s room before his stomach emptied.
* * *
Weak and disoriented, Stan made his way back to his office. He locked the door. His mind ran in a million directions at once. What was he going to do He didn’t have fifty thousand dollars, and he had no way of getting it. Lenora controlled all the money; she always had. He couldn’t let her find out. Worse, he couldn’t let those … those pictures get into the hands of management. What little career he had would be ruined.
His intercom buzzed.
He stabbed at the flashing light with his index finger. “Y-yes”
“Your meeting is starting.”
He swallowed. “I’ll be r-right there.”
Stan sat in his high-backed leather seat, paralyzed by fear and circumstance. He was a fool to have thought that someone like Leslie would have a real interest in him.
Slowly he pushed himself to a standing position. He had three days to figure something out. He shoved the photos in his desk drawer and locked it. Maybe what he should do is simply walk out the bank doors and keep going. Who would miss him anyway
* * *
Lenora Ingram sat in front of her computer. Her emerald eyes studied the encrypted security file on the screen. She’d been working in secret for close to three years to nab Xavier Suarez. It would be her coup de grâce. His capture would garner her the status and recognition that she so richly deserved.
She knew she was loathed within the department. Her nickname among her colleagues was “Little Bitch.” Although they dared not say it to her face, she’d heard the whispers and the snickering. All that was about to change, and those snot-nosed bastards would have to bow down to the Little Bitch. Suarez was a notorious smuggler, bringing in everything from guns to drugs to diamonds. But the FBI had yet to connect him to anything. He covered his tracks well, and his front men remained equally untouchable. She was getting closer. So close, she could smell his Venezuelan sweat.
She studied Suarez’s picture on the screen. He was what romance novelists would describe as devilishly handsome. Of medium height, with dark hair swept back and away from his broad forehead. A thin mustache outlined a rich mouth. His eyes were raven black, piercing, dominated by silky sweeping brows and long lashes. His swarthy good looks belied his ruthlessness. Suarez was said to have murdered his own sister for having crossed him in a drug deal. Lenora wasn’t sure if the story was based on fact or urban legend.
She closed that file. This was her personal quest. No one in the department knew what she was doing. It was only a matter of time before she nailed him.
Lenora smiled. She could write her own ticket, get rid of that albatross of a husband, and have the head honchos eating out of her hand. She wondered how they would feel when the tight shoe was on the other foot.
She pulled open her filing cabinet drawer and pulled out the folder containing information on the latest terrorist threat. Her mouth twisted in a petite grimace of disdain. It was all bullshit. A government smoke screen to scare the public. Who the citizens should really be concerned with were their elected officials. Those bastards were the real criminals.
Lenora took her designer jacket—in the predictable corporate gray—from the back of her hard as nails chair and put it on. For the next hour, she had to listen to the Chief drone on about illegal aliens crossing the borders of Mexico into the United States. She was part of the task force but could give less than a damn about illegals. However, she would play the role for the big boys and bide her time.
“Good morning, Agent Ingram,” Mike Fuller said as she passed him in the long corridor. His cool green eyes hungrily took her in.
“Morning, Mike.”
He winked. “Nice skirt.”
“Fuck you, Mike.” She walked off to the sound of his chuckle.
Her department, International Affairs, was run—make that overrun—by men. Men who firmly believed that equal opportunity and women in the work place had led to the downfall of the United States of America. Of course, they didn’t speak their thoughts out loud, but it was evident in the sexism and chauvinism in the department. Women were routinely ignored. Most of the female employees were relegated to the secretarial pool, or if they were really talented promoted to the status of Assistant to an Assistant. There weren’t even enough women to really protest the treatment. The few who had crawled up the ranks kept quiet and kept their paychecks.
Lenora saw her way out of that fate, and she planned to take it. She opened the door to the conference room, took her seat, and gritted her teeth. It was only a matter of time, she silently chanted. Only a matter of time. She flipped open her notepad and pr
etended to be interested in the PowerPoint presentation.
When she looked up, the conference attendees were pushing their seats back under the table and gathering their notes.
Lenora shook her head. She’d actually zoned out for the past twenty minutes. She collected her belongings, prepared to leave—when her boss, Special Agent Flannagan, stopped her.
“Lenora, can I see you in my office” He didn’t wait for her response. He walked out of the room.
Several of her colleagues eyed her with curiosity and perhaps a bit of glee. It was a well-known fact that Flannagan never called an agent into his office to ask how the family was doing.
Lenora’s eyes darted around the room. She drew in a breath and straightened to her full height of five feet four. She tucked her folders beneath her left arm and walked out.
Moments later, she stood in front of Jerry Flannagan’s desk.
“You wanted to see me, sir”
He dragged his gaze up from the papers on his desk. “Close the door, Agent Ingram.”
She did as she was told and came back to stand in front of him.
He reached behind him and turned the wand on the blinds to close them. He faced Lenora. “Now,” he smiled slowly. “Get undressed. Get on the couch … and spread ’em.”
Lenora’s green eyes darkened. “With pleasure.”
* * *
When Lenora walked into her town house in Dupont Circle in the heart of Washington, D.C., the last person she expected to see sitting at the living room table was her husband. Stan never made it home before eight, and it was barely five thirty.
Over the past two years, she and Stan had grown more and more apart. Now when she looked at him, she couldn’t find the man she’d married. He no longer excited her. He no longer appealed to her visually. He’d gained weight, was losing his hair, and the slight stutter that she found endearing during the early years grated on her nerves. He’d become stagnant in his job and no longer seemed to have the desire or the balls to claw his way to the top. She’d begun to feel that she was the man in the family. His title of VP of Financial Securities was all bullshit. They both knew it. It was a kiss-off. A way for management to pacify a long-term employee without actually giving him anything worthwhile. She saw her chance to rise to the top, and if it meant doing sexy, freaky things with her supervisor, then so be it. At least she was making the effort.
