Endless Days And White Knights Ch 03

Chapter Three -- "Acquired Assets"

Caroline set her laptop on the conference table. Then set herself as far from Mr. St. Pierre as she possibly could. Her head spun and her vision blurred. She rubbed her eyes. "What is HE doing here?" she asked herself. Caroline buried herself in her laptop. She pulled up the cash flow analysis and could hear Albert sucking up to their guest.

"...and we value your continued investment and leadership among our investors," Albert's voice was tinged with desperation -- Caroline could tell. Caroline glanced up from her laptop to see Mr. St. Pierre grin.

It was the same grin he wore before Caroline knew him as Mr. St. Pierre. Just last night, when he was simply "the man" who melted her so completely. At her desk -- and then on it. In the tunnel. And in the hotel suite. Caroline drifted for a moment.

Caroline squeezed her knees together and moved her thighs up and down. The ache between her legs worked its way to her throat and she let out a soft moan. She snapped back to the conference room when she heard Albert say, "I'll be right back." She crossed her legs under the table.

She returned to her laptop but knew that she and Mr. St. Pierre were alone in the conference room.

After a few seconds, St. Pierre's voice floated toward her, "You're going to have to look up at some point."

Caroline did not look up. She closed her eyes, hoping this would somehow all go away, but instead she remembered his strong hands on her shoulders -- and the way his belt buckle felt when she leaned her head against him. And the first time she felt how hard he had become, when she slid her head down onto his groin.

She popped her eyes open. And found him gazing at her -- was he reading her mind? "Now that's better, Caroline," he said. Confidence emanated from him like the heat from a bonfire.

"Don't think that you have some kind of advantage here just because we... did things, things that I don't normally do," she warned him. She hoped her voice didn't sound as uncertain and lost as she felt.

He stood. Caroline was afraid -- and hopeful -- that he would walk toward her, but instead -- he paced in self-assured steps on his side of the table. "Is that all that was to you? Just things we did? I was a visitor looking for directions and a found an angel willing to help me. An angel I was powerless to resist. You are that angel, Caroline," he finished by staring deep into her -- with her name hanging on his lips.

"Well, Mr. St. Pierre," she finally replied, "since we're both here now, I suggest we focus on the business at hand."

"Please call me Carver," he said -- taking his seat.

"Carver St. Pierre?" Caroline couldn't help but chuckle. "That sounds like a made up name."

"Aren't all our names made up?" he tossed back to her.

"Wait, are you saying that Carver St. Pierre isn't your real name?" she asked.

"As you suggested, let's focus on the business at hand," he said. He took out his phone and tapped the screen with his thumb. "I've just sent you a link to a file I'd like to review."

On cue, the email arrived on Caroline's laptop. She clicked on the link and instead of a balance sheet or a cash flow analysis, she found herself staring at a video. The images were dark, but clear. Two naked women in a hotel suite. It was Caroline and the woman from last night. The woman's face was buried between Caroline's legs.

Caroline could feel her cheeks redden and her panties moisten. Anger, embarrassment, and a desire to touch herself boiled inside her. That's what last night was all about? That's why he ravaged her? To embarrass her here where she worked? To blackmail her with a sex video? There was so much she wanted to shout at him, but instead she took a breath. "There's nothing on this video that's illegal or even anyone's business," she tried.

"True enough," Carver said. "But making that video public would be enough to prevent certain events from unfolding."

"What events?" she demanded as she heard herself moan on her laptop screen.

"I get what I want, Caroline, always," he smiled and nodded toward the conference room door. "Remember that. It's kind of my catch phrase."

Voices came from the hall. Caroline scrambled to mute her laptop's speakers and her video moaning stopped just in time.

Albert went to get the big gun, Caroline saw. Leading him by three steps was Elizabeth Racine, one of the founding partners of Azura Holdings and still an owner of twenty percent of the company. Caroline had never met her and had only seen her picture on the Azura website.

Elizabeth was in her early fifties but carried herself like a woman decades younger. She wore a sleeveless leopard print dress that showed off her shoulders and arms, the chiseled results of her six-day-a-week Pilate's regime. The dress was clearly custom-tailored to within the millimeter of her tight figure and her long strides exposed calves an Olympic sprinter would envy.

Caroline suddenly felt invisible, which is exactly how most women felt when Elizabeth Racine walked into a room.

"Carver," Elizabeth purred across the table. "Why are you bothering us here today? We're busy making your investment pay off."

Carver St. Pierre, if that was his real name, seemed to be immune to her charisma. "That's not how I see it, Liz." He leaned back in his chair. "If you take a close look at Azura's cash flow -- your most recent three-month rolling average -- you'll see some troubling trends developing."

Carver used the instant in which Elizabeth and Albert gave each other a worried glance to wink at Caroline. Albert tried to respond to Carver's cash flow claim but all that came out was unintelligible mumbling. Elizabeth fared slightly better with -- "I'm not sure where you got your data, but let me do some research and get back to you..."

Carver tried to downplay how smug he was feeling as he watched Elizabeth and Albert squirm.

Caroline watched him lean farther back in his chair. She glanced down at the frozen image on her laptop screen. Caroline on her stomach, with the woman's face hovering over her arched and naked backside. Caroline knew her cash flow analysis had been on her desk when he fucked her there. She had drifted to sleep and he disappeared. That's the game he was playing? That's why he videotaped her and the woman?

And the anger finally exploded out of her.

"Mr. St. Pierre's analysis of Azura's cash flow only tells half the story," Caroline interjected. All heads swiveled to her. "I, ironically, arrived at the same initial conclusion as I studied the cash flow last night. Then I came... to look at the numbers a little more closely. The negative cash flow trends are due to a one-time charge that Azura is paying to secure the global rights to an Asian consumer brand. That one-time charge, while having a short term negative impact, will ensure double digit revenue growth for the next five years."

She stopped to see the relief on Albert's face and the reptilian smile on Elizabeth's. Carver cocked an eyebrow at her -- and looked unsure for the first time since Caroline had met him.

Caroline continued, "It's as if Mr. Carver got his hands on an unfinished cash flow analysis but didn't wait around for the finished product."

Elizabeth spun to Carver. "Your move, young man," she said to him flatly.

"Interesting," was what he managed to say. "I'm clearly going to reevaluate my strategy. But don't think you've won anything here today. Remember this --"

Caroline cut him off, "Mr. St. Pierre gets what he wants. Always. At least that's his catch phrase."

Carver squinted -- and appeared to wonder if he had misjudged her. He glided out of the conference room. Albert took a step to follow, but stayed with Elizabeth -- who was sizing Caroline up.

"Caroline Monroe. Financial analyst. Azura employee for three years. Never promoted." Elizabeth sounded like she was reciting a recipe. Then she added, "Welcome to my senior leadership team."

She was gone before Caroline could respond.

That night, Caroline parked her eight-year-old Tercel in her apartment building's 'tenant only' parking and pushed into the linoleum and fluorescent lobby. The rest of her day at work had been spent double and triple checking her cash flow assumptions. A half hour before she left, a raven-haired woman in her early twenties -- her wide hips stretching the seams of her nylon skirt -- found Caroline hunched over her keyboard.

"Ms. Monroe, I'm Vanessa, your assistant," Vanessa announced.

"I have an assistant?" Caroline asked.

"You do as of Monday morning," Vanessa told her. She took Caroline to her new office -- many floors higher than where she currently sat. "Caroline Monroe" was already stenciled on the placard outside the frosted glass door.

"That was fast," Caroline noted.

"Those things go up and down faster than a hooker's fist giving a five dollar handjob," Vanessa said matter-of-factly. She showed Caroline her new desk and view of downtown. "See you Monday morning," Vanessa said as she grabbed her knockoff Versace handbag and click-clacked her chunky red patent leather heels toward the elevators.

Caroline soaked it all in. Twenty-four hours earlier, she was crunching numbers in a windowless office. Now, she felt like she could see forever out of her floor-to-ceiling tempered glass.

In the linoleum and fluorescent lobby of her apartment building, she pulled the bills and junk mail from her mailbox. She turned and walked straight into Zack.

Zack... He of the heartfelt smile and wounded eyes. Mid-thirties. Rides his mountain bike to work. They'd been bumping into each other in the lobby for almost a year. Six months ago he suggested that they grab a cup of coffee sometime and she agreed. But nothing ever came of it.

"Hey," he said. His smile always went straight to her heart and rested there -- it would take awhile for the memory to dissolve.

"Sorry," she said -- for almost bumping into him, but realized she didn't say why she was sorry. And he slid by to check his mail. But the elevator door closed and she wasn't sure how much Zack heard. He must've started seeing someone else, Caroline mused.

She meandered through her one-bedroom apartment, which looked like an Ikea showroom had mated with a Target home furnishings section. Her panty hose, blouse and bra lay in a pile on her bed and she plopped on her couch in her workday skirt and a gray hoodie. She was resigned to spending her Friday evening with her laptop and a bottle of sauvignon blanc. She opened the laptop and started perusing spreadsheets.

After one glass of wine, she couldn't resist finding the video that Carver had sent her. The link was embedded in his email -- carve@gu2c.aw. She managed to watch it once (it was only a three minute clip and ended before Carver entered the suite) without touching herself. The clip ended just as the woman slid her tongue into Caroline from behind.

Caroline hit 'replay' and started her second viewing with her second glass of sauvignon blanc. By the time the woman in the video nibbled on Caroline's nipples, Caroline realized her hands were under her laptop.

"I got a huge promotion today and I haven't told a soul," she complained to her third glass. That's when she realized that Zack's smile hadn't fully dissolved yet. Her third glass was very encouraging and convinced her that telling Zack was the right thing to do.

In the hall, she wobbled. "Maybe I'm a little more buzzed that I thought," she considered. But didn't let that stop her from pushing into the stairwell. He lived on the floor below.

Caroline carefully maneuvered down the stairs -- rehearsing what she'd say when he peeked through his peephole. Before she found the stairwell door, she heard sharp footsteps. She snapped out of her drunken stupor when she saw a woman a half flight below her.

Not A woman, but THE woman. The woman from the video on her laptop. The woman from the hotel suite last night. Caroline sobered up. "What..." she muttered.

They stared at each other for an instant. Caroline was sure it was her. The woman's look of surprise matched her own. And when the woman bolted down the stairs, Caroline took off after her.

Caroline could hear the woman's hurried footsteps and the door below opening. By the time Caroline reached it, it had slammed shut. She pushed it open and found herself in the parking garage. The woman ran out of the garage. Caroline raced after her.

She reached the night air and felt the cold. She was in her skirt and hoodie. She managed to slide on her Ugg's because she had wanted to look carefree but stylish to Zack.

The woman -- in heels, skin-tight white jeans and snug waist-cut down jacket -- was almost a block away. She looked back and saw Caroline coming after her.

"Wait!" Caroline tried. "I just want to ask --" But the woman took off faster than before.

Caroline plodded down the dark street in her Uggs. The woman turned down an alley and by the time Caroline reached it, the woman was gone. "She's fast in those heels," Caroline thought. Caroline jogged down the alley until she reached the next cross street. A dog barked, which made Caroline jump. She caught her breath and decided to give up. She looked back down the alley and couldn't believe she had just run down it. "I must be drunker'n I thought," she said out loud. There was no way she was going to go back that way. Too dark. Too frightening.

She tried to figure out the most well-lit way back to her apartment, when she saw -- across the street and almost a block away -- the woman darting into a motel Caroline had barely known was there.

A few seconds later, Caroline was at the motel. Most of the rooms were dark. Only a few lonely cars dotted the parking lot. Caroline spotted a room's light flicker. She snuck to the door. It was ajar. Caroline slid to the window. The only light in the room spilled from the bathroom, but -- through a thin gap in the curtains -- Caroline could see her.

The woman faced a mirror against the back of the room and pulled off her down jacket, revealing a lace tanktop. The mirror reflected the woman's very full breasts, which the lace tanktop could barely contain. Caroline remembered feeling those breasts dragging across her bare stomach. The woman in the motel room continued undressing. She stepped out of her heels and pealed her white jeans off. Her panties curved high up her ass. The woman pinched her nipples through the lace tanktop as she stared at her body in the mirror.

Caroline slid back to the door. She knew the woman was distracted and hoped she would not notice the door open. Caroline snuck into the motel room. The woman was just feet away -- lost in reverie as her hands traveled under the lace tank. Caroline could see the ecstasy in the woman's reflection. Caroline turned quietly to close the motel room door. And when she did --

She found a man standing behind it. He was a head taller than her and wore a dark suit and tie. Before Caroline could scream, he lunged. He covered her mouth and threw her on the bed. She flew like a ragdoll. When she tried to push him away, she could feel his solid, thick muscles under his suit jacket. He pushed her flat against the bed with the force of a single hand. He planted his hand on her chest. His palm pressed against her bare chest, between her breasts. The more she struggled, the more his hand slid down her torso -- pulling her hoodie zipper open along the way. He used his free hand to rip his belt off. Caroline gasped. She glanced at the man's suit pants, expecting that he would rip them away, too. Instead, he used the belt to lash her right wrist to the bedpost.

"No!" Caroline cried.

She used her free hand to reach for the belt, but the man pulled her away from it. He tore his necktie off and used it to lash her free wrist to the other bedpost.

"Let me go!" Caroline shouted. She could see -- over the man's shoulder -- the woman sashaying toward the bed. "What are you—" Caroline tried again, but the woman peeled her panties off and forced them into Caroline's mouth. "Ugh!" Caroline grunted. She could taste the woman -- a hint of a perfumed lotion and bodily fluids -- in the wadded panties she couldn't spit out.

The man stood at the foot of the bed and grabbed Caroline's ankles. He pinned her legs down.

"Shh," said the woman as she gazed down at Caroline. Caroline's hoodie hung open. Her breasts were still covered, but barely. The periphery of her nipples showed at the edges of the zipper. Her skirt was bunched at her waist and her panties were fully exposed. The woman traced her fingers all over Caroline. From her knees -- to her crotch -- along her hips to the curve of Caroline's breasts.

Caroline grunted and raised her hips. Was she protesting or asking for more?

The man's iron grip kept her legs down. The woman, dressed only in the lace tanktop, climbed onto the bed and straddled Caroline's waist. She was bare from the waist down and swayed her hips over Caroline. Caroline could see where the woman's thin strip of pubic hair ended -- and her moist pink began.

"Stay out of this," the woman warned Caroline.

Caroline cocked an eyebrow. "Stay out of what?", she wanted to say -- but the woman's panties kept her from saying anything.

"He always gets what he wants," the woman added -- and then lowered herself onto Caroline. She rested both knees on the bed, straddled outside Caroline's hips, and settled her bare crotch onto Caroline's pubic bone. Caroline could see the woman's nipples grow hard under the lace tank. "Render unto Caesar the things which are Caesar's," the woman said with a moan.

Caroline felt the woman's heat against her own groin. The woman began grinding against her -- moaning with her each rotation of her hips. The woman was bringing herself to ecstasy. As the grinding brought the woman closer to orgasm, she grew wetter. Caroline could feel the woman getting her own panties wet, as she ground harder. The woman moaned again and threw herself forward onto Caroline. She ripped Caroline's hoodie all the way open, fully exposing Caroline's breasts. She massaged Caroline's breasts as she began to orgasm. With each "Yes!" and moan, she drove her wet groin harder against Caroline.

Caroline knew the man was still holding her legs -- watching the woman from behind -- but he really didn't need to. Caroline had stopped resisting. The ache inside her was building -- even though she didn't want it to. Caroline could feel the orgasm welling inside her.

The woman let out a final gasp and fell on top of Caroline. Her overheated body pressed hard against Caroline. Her hair fell into Caroline's face. The man still held Caroline tight as Caroline found herself thrusting her hips up, between the woman's legs. She wanted more and the woman could tell. The woman reciprocated by rotating her hips into Caroline's thrusts. The woman lifted her head -- just inches from Caroline's face. Caroline could feel the woman's lusty breathing against her own lips as the woman gave a tired smile.

Then the bathroom light, the only light in the motel room, went out with a click. The man was still holding her legs. The woman lay on top of her. Someone else was in the room. The room was pitch black.

Footsteps came out of the bathroom. Caroline couldn't see a thing. But then she felt a finger touch the inside of her knee. Caroline struggled again. But the man and the woman pinned her down. The strange finger began sliding up the inside her thigh. Caroline used all of her strength to break free, but her wrists were still bound. As the strange finger found the hem of her pantie, Caroline's left wrist loosened the necktie that had lashed it against the bedpost.

The strange finger delicately lifted the hem of her pantie, just at the inside of her leg. The woman lying on top of her repeated with a whisper, "Render unto Caesar..."