Jarno Nash had taken a meeting with the bagman for a potential client. A meatball, some big business hustler who wanted his trophy wife followed and surveyed for signs of cheating. The couple had a rural estate a few miles outside of Trenton where Nash had been asked to meet with the businessman's rep. Theoretically it actually made for a nice drive and a pretty way to kill an afternoon. It had seemed a trifling enough case that he'd decided to make it an afternoon of hooky with his girlfriend and fellow bail agent, Patty Peres. However, the man's elderly male secretary, who had made the initial contact with Nash, had left out a crucial piece of information that had sent the meeting plummeting straight into the toilet.
The client turned out to be a Saudi on an extended visa, and the strict Sharia Muslim bagman had reacted violently to Patty's presence at the meeting. While Nash had assured him that she was as qualified an agent and investigator as he was, the man was unconvinced. He hadn't planned on dealing with any trifling-ass females, he said, especially not ones who chose to assault his eyes with an egregious display of flowing black hair, high-heeled boots and a tight-fitting Chanel suit. He hadn't actually used the phrase "trifling-ass females" but that's what Patty had heard, and angrily repeated several times to Nash later.
Patty, not one to let misogyny and condescension go by lightly, had replied that she hadn't planned on dealing with any minimum-wage secretaries who sat down to pee but she was willing to hear his shit out. The guy had thrown a full-bore fit and kicked them out of the house, creating a tense, angry vacuum for their ride through the beautiful countryside of New Jersey.
Not a lot of the anger came from Nash's end; since he'd merged firms with his old friend Fielder Hiss and the firm had taken on security-guarding gigs, car repossessions, and crisis negotiation, business had expanded and picked up and they could absorb the loss of such a bullshit client easily enough. But Patty was upset and flustered; she didn't like being dismissed by anyone and Nash really couldn't blame her, she worked her ass off and was as good as any man at what they did. She was a badass.
He attempted to be conciliatory with her but as he made several dead-end attempts at conversation, a strange thing happened: he began to get turned on by her humiliation and helpless, recalcitrant fury. He found himself distracted from the road, unable to take his eyes off her. Later he would look back and wonder why this happened; normally her black moods were one of the very few things on God's earth that truly frightened him. Why did he suddenly begin to want sex, that afternoon of all afternoons? He didn't believe in fate but there were times when all of this certainly felt fated.
Patty wasn't feeling fated at the time, nor would she feel fated later. At the moment, she was feeling humiliated, helpless, and savage -- darker emotions playing close to the surface.
Having already arranged to write the afternoon off, they went to their condo so Patty could change into some more comfortable clothes for lunch. After their encounter with the bagman she felt like showering as well, but Nash was watching her closely and she didn't want to keep him waiting, so she just went into the bedroom to change. He was still staring at her, so she closed the door firmly behind her. As far as she was concerned, she'd already been completely degraded and humiliated in front of him but she kidded herself that if she at least had privacy while undressing it would afford her some dignity. Her face reddened as she remembered the things that bagman had said to her, the names he called her, the true revulsion in his eyes when he looked at her. Patty was a beautiful woman and, while she never used this attribute for gain as the world seemed to expect her to, the man's vehement disgust had knocked her off her game. She hadn't been able to look Nash in the eyes since they were in that office.
The bedroom was actually cool and comfortable, even though it was a miserably muggy, hot day outside. The blinds were down and the fan was pulling in cool air from the shady side of the building. Patty took off her clothes and savored the feeling of the cool air on her skin, taking her time as she looked for something else to put on. Nash opened the door softly enough that she didn't hear him, so when he shut it behind him she started, cried out and turned around.
"Jesus, I'll be done in a second," she snapped. Her face went red and hot again but she didn't want to give him the satisfaction of having startled and embarrassed her, so she stood up straight and grabbed her robe, covering the front of herself with it. Nash stepped towards her, his eyes glittering. It threw Patty off balance. Usually Nash didn't have much of a sense of humor, but he seemed to be laughing at her now.
"What an embarrassing scene that was," he said with a little smirk. "For you, I mean. Not for me."
"Yeah, well, I'm glad you got a laugh out of it," she snapped, not knowing what else to say. "Could you please let me finish changing? I'm really not into having you ogle me after that."
Nash sat on the edge of my bed, giddy from horniness and the impending sense of danger from her fearsome temper, still smiling at her. "Go ahead," he managed.
"I'd like some privacy," she sniffed. He continued to sit there with that little smile on his face. Angrier than ever now, she let out a huffy sigh and turned her back on him, struggling helplessly through dresser drawers. His presence unnerved her but he was obviously not going anywhere so she draped the robe over her shoulders and tried not to acknowledge him any further.
She grabbed some clothes from the drawers and tried to step past him to finish dressing in the bathroom; she was almost at the door when he pounced.
She was actually a higher skill level in the Krav Maga they practiced together, but he had her consternation working in his favor and grabbed her and had her on her back on the bed before she even heard him get up. She gasped and tried to draw her knees up but he already had her pinned. He began touching her all over, roughly groping her breasts, pulling her hair and kissing her hard on the mouth. She squirmed underneath him and he forced his knee between her legs; Patty gave an involuntary cry as Nash invaded her, shoving two fingers inside of her. Her body made a wet sound when he did this and he chuckled softly.
"You're wet," he whispered in her ear. "You're ready."
"Get off," she said, pushing. "Let me up." Nash knew it was important to her to try and resist, because she was finding that he was right, for some reason she was slippery and found her body responding quickly to his touch.
He began to move his fingers, fucking her with them. "You want it," he whispered, lifting his head a little to look into her face. "I can feel it."
"Please get up," Patty harped, embarrassed to hear her voice quaking. "I've had a rough enough goddam afternoon."
