Let's Mae a Deal

Author's note:

This is Part 1 of a long story. No part of it is intended to stand alone.

In revising this (the whole story, not mostly this part), I've corrected errors, but also filled in a lot. This has inevitably made the whole story even longer. My apologies to anyone who read it in the original form and now finds it different.

If you're looking mostly for explicit sex, this probably is not the story for you, so why don't you just go on to something else? There is explicit sex in some parts, but even there it's not the focus.

Also, some parts contain religious discussions which will offend some people and bore others. If you're one of those people, again, why not go on to something else?

Let's Make a Deal (Part 1)

1.

A Modest Proposal

Scott Davidson was going through the month's invoices for which he hadn't yet received payment when there was a knock on his office door. It was officially a few minutes after quitting time, but he often worked on into the evening. He looked at the monitor for the camera in the hall outside, which had popped up, and saw that it was Lynda Rohr. He stuffed the invoices into a folder and put it in his drawer (he habitually didn't leave documents on his desk during meetings), and woke up his office camera before calling, "Come in."

Lynda came in and sat down across the desk from him. After a moment, Scott asked, "What can I do for you, Lynda?"

She seemed hesitant, which wasn't like her at all. At twenty, Lynda was one of the most beautiful women Scott had ever known, and she normally carried herself with poise and confidence.

After a moment she said, "Scott . . . I wanted to ask you . . . if you'd consider giving Martha another chance at her job." Martha Rowe was Lynda's housemate, and (Scott was fairly sure) her girlfriend or partner. She had originally been responsible for Lynda's applying for a job at the company. Scott had recently fired her after a series of careless, costly mistakes. Prior to that, though, she had been the most valuable office staff person he had—that he had ever had—and he had hated to let her go.

Scott said, "You know I'd love to have her working here again. As it is, I'm going to have to find a replacement for her pretty soon. But the last few months, it seems that she wasn't paying attention to what she was doing, and talking to her about it didn't seem to help. I just couldn't afford to keep her on."

Lynda looked down and hesitated again. Finally, she said, "Scott, I don't know quite how to say this. Do you, um, think I'm attractive?"

Scott thought he saw where this might be heading, and he didn't like it, but he quite see how to avoid it. He'd have to let her say what she was going to and then respond. So he just said, "Is water wet? You know you're drop-dead beautiful, Lynda, and I'm sure that you get asked for dates all the time, way more than most women, if you're in any doubt. So?"

Still not looking up at him, she said, "If you'll give her another chance, I'll go to bed with you. Whatever you want, that way."

Well, at least that was direct, and Scott preferred things direct. "Lynda, even ignoring all the moral and practical reasons that would be a bad idea, well . . . Martha's carelessness cost me a lot. I'm not saying you're unattractive, I'm saying I can't afford more mistakes. On top of all the ethical issues involved."

This time she did look up and meet his eyes. "I understand . . . but Martha really needs the job. Anything else she finds, she'll really be starting over. And she loved working here, for you. I . . . um, if you want, you could have me for a weekend, as much as you want of whatever you want all weekend."

Scott found the thought tempting enough, but he knew that beyond being wrong it was a bad idea. He really didn't think she was hoping to blackmail him with a sexual harassment lawsuit or anything like that, but it was dangerous enough in other ways that he wouldn't want to touch It, even ignoring ethics. He said, "Look. Suppose I took you up on this. I rehire Martha. Then, in a few weeks, maybe, she quits paying attention again, and I have another customer mad at us, and I have to fire her again. I get a really pleasant weekend, let's say, but it costs us. You just get, um, screwed, figuratively and literally, and all for nothing. It's just not worth it. To anybody."

Lynda said, "Try this, then. You can have me whenever you want, for whatever you want, as long as you keep her on. If you feel you have to let her go at some point, I promise I won't complain or make trouble. Really! Just give her another chance!"

Scott sighed. If he kept saying no, would she just keep upping the stakes? And what could come next? He finally said, "Look, Lynda, this would be wrong. And it would be a bad idea for more reasons than you probably can imagine. I admit that almost any guy would enjoy going to bed with you, even if you were kind of just going through the motions—you're a lesbian, right?—but there's just too much against it.

"If I promise to think more about it, will that be enough for now? I warn you that the answer is almost certain to be no, anyway, but I'll think about it." That promise didn't cost him anything at all. The problem was going to be putting it out of his mind.

He thought he saw tears in her eyes before she dropped them again. After a moment, she said, "If that's all you'll agree to do, then I guess it has to be enough. I know you're right, it's a lot to ask, but I had to try."

He thought he could guess the answer, but he asked, "Does Martha know you're making this offer? Just by the way." Then a thought struck him. "And if so, does she feel that you're cheating on her? And if not, do

you

feel that you're cheating on her?"

For the first time she showed some animation. Something like panic was in her eyes as she looked up at him. "Don't tell Martha I asked you this! Please! Promise me you won't say anything to her!"

Scott told her, "I probably won't even have an opportunity. I can imagine things that would make me talk to her about this, but they all seem really unlikely. I won't say anything to her without a good reason." He paused and thought a moment. "I can promise this much, anyway. If something comes up, I'll try to talk to you before I say one word to her about it."

He asked her a few questions about things she'd been working on that day, and then she left. He put his office camera back to sleep, burned the file to a CD, and deleted it. He stopped by the bank on his way home and put the CD into his safe deposit box. No point in taking chances.

2.

What's Behind Door Number Two?

Scott did his best to put the conversation behind him for the rest of the week and over the weekend. He did pray about it, daily, not only for strength to resist this temptation and wisdom to know how to deal with the whole situation, but also for Lynda and Martha. He'd known that firing Martha would be hard on her, but he'd figured she would find another job easily enough. She had a lot of skills, after all. It seemed that he'd been wrong, though, or Lynda wouldn't be so desperately begging for him to rehire Martha. But he couldn't imagine why.

Then, Monday a while before lunchtime, he got another surprise. This time, when he checked, it was Martha knocking at his door. He again woke the office camera before calling to her to come in. He always felt like he was a little paranoid, but he'd once been falsely accused of improper behavior. That time he'd been lucky enough that the encounter had happened to be in view of a security camera out on the floor, but he'd never forgotten it. The whole office, except the restrooms, was thoroughly though very inconspicuously bugged, with a few obvious cameras around, too, and warning signs at the doors. Normally the cameras, except in his office, ran all the time. The videos were rolled over every week and the two-week old ones deleted, and—much as he resented the time it took—he tried to check everything weekly, on fast-forward. He'd caught an employee on the floor pilfering, once, long before physical inventory would have found the loss, and before it cost him too much.

Martha was quite a contrast to Lynda, in almost every way. Lynda was petite, not too much over five feet tall, with a classic hourglass figure, black hair shoulder-length or a bit more, and very dark eyes, almost black, so dark that the pupils were nearly invisible. Martha was a little taller than average for a woman, with shortish blond hair and light eyes. She wasn't really fat, and Scott wouldn't even have used the word "plump", but no one would call her thin, either. The word he'd have chosen to describe her waist was "solid". Lynda's breasts fit her figure perfectly. Martha's were large, though with no hint of sagging, as far as Scott could tell without seeing them uncovered, anyway. Where Lynda was twenty, Martha was in her late thirties, and her face showed it. Lynda's face was something almost anyone would describe as beautiful, with dimples when she smiled, whereas Martha's was definitely a little plain, although when she was really happy her whole face lit up. To Scott, who simply found women attractive in general, she was plenty good looking, but certainly no one would launch a thousand ships for her face. And while Lynda always seemed poised and self-confident, Martha was often rather shy, self-effacing and diffident. Scott had often wondered why, since Martha was quick and smart and usually very competent.

Martha, at least, started off without any hesitation. "Scott, I want to ask you to give me another chance. What you said were a hundred percent right. I was careless over and over, and there was no excuse. I promise that things will be different if you let me try again. I've really made my mind up that I'll do anything, if you'll only let me show you." She put the faintest stress on the word "anything". Scott wondered what was going on—first Lynda and now Martha? Or was that what she meant?

He said, "Martha, you know what I wanted from you. We talked every time you let something big slip, and every time you said it wouldn't happen again. And then, after a while, it did. How can I trust you again? You know I didn't want to let you go. When your mind is on your work, you do better than anyone else who's ever worked for me, honestly. You've worked on the floor as well as in the office, and frankly you know that job as well as any of the people who are doing it, and it made you a huge asset in the office. Don't quote me on that to anyone, but it's true, and it means that you can catch mistakes that would be very expensive for us. But the last few months, it was like you were running on autopilot sometimes, and I just can't afford that."

She answered, "I know and I understand and I agree. I don't know what else I can say. I can't really give you any reason to trust me to do better, and I knew it when I decided to come in. So, really, I'm just begging you to try me anyway."

They sat and looked at each other for a few moments. Then Scott sighed. "Martha, it's proverbial. If a woman comes to a man and says, "I'll do

anything

if you will—whatever—, she's usually offering him sex. She may mean she's hoping that it won't go that far if she doesn't come right out and say it, or she may just want him to be the one to bring it up so she can pretend it was his idea. You know I don't like to play games. So, is that what you meant, a minute ago?"

She dropped her eyes to her hands in her lap for a moment, but looked up at him before she answered. "You've got me there, Scott. Yes, I was playing games. I didn't expect you to be open to that, but I thought, yes, that I'd do it if you picked up on it. And wanted to. I don't know, it's not that I hoped you'd say no, I guess I was afraid that if I just came out and offered you sex, you'd be offended and I'd have no chance at all. And I didn't mean just that! But I did mean to include sex, if you wanted. Does that kill any chance I might have had? I know it's not your kind of thing, at all."

He said, "Did anyone tell you to come and make me this offer, or suggest that I might be open to something like this, or anything like that?"

"No. It was all my own idea. I just couldn't think of anything else to try. And . . . um, nothing."

He said, "You realize, even if I were inclined to take you up on this, that you're putting a really high value on yourself? Your sloppy work potentially cost the company at least a hundred thousand dollars. I think I've managed to stop most of that, but whether you realize it or not, we run on trust. Our customers may overlook a one-time problem, if we fix it right away without questions or stonewalling, but if they decide that we're unreliable they'll drop us for other sources, and tell other people why. That's why I'm hesitant to just take you back. But it also means that if you offer to go to bed with me to encourage me, well, that would be an awfully high price for brief pleasures. Pleasures for me, of course."

She said, "OK, I said I'd do anything, and I meant it. I didn't necessarily mean just once, or even just sex. If you, I don't know, if you made me, oh, move in with you and do your cooking and cleaning and laundry, or something like that, as well as having sex with you every night, I wasn't thinking of anything like that, but I'd do it if you said that's what it would take. Anything!"

He thought for a long minute. Then he said, "There are things you haven't thought of, or you'd never have said that the way you did, and there are some other things you just don't know about. We need to talk more. Can you come back here just before quitting time, say right about 5:45? You'll have to sit here and wait until everything is shut down. And expect to stay for several hours. Understand, that's not a yes or no—I really mean we need to talk a lot before I can even answer."

She said, "I can do that. And thank you for giving me even that much chance."

They stood up, and she left. Scott put the camera back to sleep, then transferred the file to a DVD and put it in his briefcase. Then he got back to work. He did have to keep turning his mind back to the job at hand, though. Around five o'clock, he went down to the main office, to Lynda's desk, and said to her, "After six, as soon as you have everything tidied up, please come up to my office. We need to talk about some things."

Go to Part 2