Fated Destiny

Tom Parta was working late. Having just graduated from the University of Idaho with a degree in finance, he managed to land a job in Baltimore, Maryland with the Castlewood Management Group. The Group was a capital management company, which controlled millions of dollars in assets. Tom knew he was lucky to get the job. The woman that had the position before him was more interested in sleeping with the clients with the hope of marrying one than in completing her work. Unfortunately, for her, a couple of the wives found out and protected their golden geese by getting her terminated.

Tom shook his head and sighed, both at his perception of the woman's folly and the amount of work she left behind. The quarterly reports were late and half of the billing statements had not been sent out yet. Tom rubbed his blood-shot eyes and looked over at the clock on his desk. The hands showed 1:17 in the morning.

"Friday night and I'm stuck here," thought Tom as he stood up, stretched, and went around the hall to the bathroom. "Actually, Saturday morning...but not that I had anything better to do."

Tom walked into the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror. At six-feet, three-inches tall, one hundred and ninety pounds, with sandy-brown hair and blue eyes, he was considered ruggedly handsome. He played football and wrestled in college, but knew his athletic abilities were not good enough to go pro. Raised in Idaho on a farm, he had developed a natural shyness that kept him away from the college party scene and woman in general. It was not that he did not have quite a few women friends...he did. It was just that he became tongue-tied and withdrawn when he was out on an actual date.

The move to Baltimore was a big one for him. He was all set to graduate with honors when one of his professors called him into his office. The professor had investments with Castlewood and was friends with the president of the company. When the professor had heard about the opening, he put Tom's name forward. After a quick interview and with the recommendations of his professors, Tom was offered the position.

Now, after being on the job for a month, Tom had uncovered all the unfinished paperwork. He had been pulling late nights all this week to catch up. Shaking his head, Tom leaned down to splash water on his face and dried off with a couple of paper towels. Looking at himself in the mirror again, he remembered back to one of his classes.

"Perception," stated his professor, standing in the front of the class. "Perception is the one thing that will get you into trouble. You can make a ton of money for your clients, but if they see you as sloppy, haphazard or incompetent, you might as well go look for a new job."

Tom shook his head again to clear it. He debated on whether to pack it in or finish off the work tonight. Mentally going over what work was left to be done, He figured it would only take him another hour. He would than have the rest of Saturday and Sunday off.

"Well, no rest for the wicked," he thought, craning his neck to get the kinks out of it.

Tom walked out of the bathroom and started down the hall back to his cubicle. He suddenly stopped and froze as he heard a series of scrapes and thumps coming from his boss's office. It sounded like objects had been slid across the furniture and dropped onto the tick pile carpet.

Tom stood still, unsure of what to do. He knew his boss, David Silverman, had left at 6:00 PM. Mr. Silverman had looked in on Tom as he was leaving. He told Tom not to work too late and that they were appreciative of the extra work he had been doing. Mr. Silverman had walked away with a wave of his hand and a reminder for Tom to document his overtime.

Tom's cubicle was in the back corner of the suite of offices. He knew that anyone could have entered and he would have never have heard them come in. It was still strange to him that someone would be here after one in the morning.

Tom heard movement inside the office. He thought about calling the police, but decided it would be foolish if it was just Mr. Silverman stopping by the office on his way home from the opera or a show downtown. Creeping forward, Tom sneaked up to the door to look in before deciding to do anything. He gasped and stood still in shock at what he saw.

Everything had been shoved off Mr. Silverman's large oak desk. Pen sets, a brass clock, trays and papers were strewn all over the floor. David Silverman was lying on top of the desk with his legs hanging down over the edge. He was the vice president of the company and in his late fifties. What had shocked Tom was the fact that not only was Mr. Silverman naked, but there was a nude woman standing between his legs sucking on his cock.

The woman was statuesque, being about six feet tall with cantaloupe-sized breasts and a narrow waist. She looked to be in her early twenties. Her long, wavy, blond hair was draped over to one side of her neck. A long-nailed hand gripped the base of Mr. Silverman's hard prick, while her full lips formed an oval seal around the head of his penis. Tom raised his eyes slightly and was surprised to see the woman looking at him.

Her eyes were a brilliant green and gorgeous. Tom could have sworn that he saw little red and orange sparkles in them. He could only stand there, mesmerized by her gaze.

"Stay."

The thought reverberated through Tom's brain, freezing him in place. He knew the woman wanted him to stay where he was and not leave. All thought seemed to vanish from him. She broke their eye contact and returned her attention to Mr. Silverman. "Oh, Miss Covington...Desiree...I shouldn't...I can't...Oh, God!" gasped and moaned David Silverman as the woman's head started to bob up and down.

Tom heard the slurping sounds as the woman he knew was Desiree sucked greedily on the hard shaft filling her mouth. Her cheeks billowed inward as she lifted her head as if to vacuum out Mr. Silverman's juices. Toms' own cock became hard at the sight of the sex scene in front of him. Mr. Silverman's head lolled back and forth as his unfocused eyes stared up at the ceiling in the excitement of his passion. Tom saw Mr. Silverman's body begin to tense and Desiree sucked even faster on his cock.

Tom looked in amazement as Desiree's tits jiggled and squiggled as they slapped into one another from her up and down motion. Her areolas were pale pink with thimble-size nipples sticking out. Each swaying globe would have been a double handful for Tom and he longed to grab hold of them. The strange compulsion in his mind kept him firm rooted to where he was standing, though. Tom marveled as his eyes traced down the curve of her back to Desiree's perfect heart-shaped ass.

"I...I...Oh, God," gasped Mr. Silverman in pure ecstasy. "Oh, God...I...Oh. God...Oh, God...I'm...I'm...I'M...AHHHHHHHH!!!!!"

Tom watched as Mr. Silverman's body stiffened in climatic pleasure so much that his hips arched upward. Desiree kept her lips locked around the shaft of his cock as he started to ejaculate. She nosily swallowed down his first load of hot cum that spattered into her mouth.

Tom was gasping for breath in his excitement and his hard cock strained against his pants. Not only was it thrilling to watch, but it had an extra spice since he knew that Desiree knew he was watching both of them.

Slowly, Tom's excitement changed to alarm. Desiree was still sucking and swallowing Mr. Silverman's spurting sperm. Tom was sure that no one could cum that long. Mr. Silverman's hips remained arched off the desk and his whole body was shaking as he continued to climax. Copious amounts of white jizz oozed from the corners of Desiree's mouth to roll down the hard shaft of his cock and still she continued to swallow.

Tom's alarm became horror as he saw Mr. Silverman's body shrivel in on itself. Silverman's eyes took on a wild look as his ecstasy continued and did not abate. His hands gripped the edge of the desk like claws and his skin shrank and tightened around his bones. With a long, low, rattling exhale, Mr. Silverman collapsed, his unseeing eyes wide open, as his cock dribbled out its final juice.

Desiree smacked her lips.

"Ah, I do so love a good suck," she said in a low, husky voice as she licked the cum off her lips and hand. "Well, did you like the show?" "He's...He's dead!" gasped a stunned Tom as he stared at the desiccated corpse.

"Can't make an omelet without breaking eggs," replied Desiree as she rummaged through a large purse at her feet. She pulled out a carved wooden box, about three inches square, and set it on the desk. "It was, however, the best sex of his life."

Desiree opened the box and Tom gasped as he felt a cold, chill wind blow past him. His eyes widened as he saw Mr. Silverman's body begin to disintegrate. The body was breaking down into dust and swirling up to fly into the box. Mr. Silverman was completely gone as the last mote flew into the box and Desiree closed the lid with a snap. Tom was shaking in fear, but could not overcome the compulsion to stay where he was.

"Now," breathed Desiree, standing up straight and turning towards Tom in her beautiful nakedness. "It's your turn."

Tom knew he should flee, but was rooted to the spot by that one word command. He looked around desperately for help as Desiree took one step closer to him. Her whole body swayed in that one step, exuding sex beyond belief. Tom's eyes fell on the large mirror-like artwork behind the desk and he gasped out loud at the sight.

The entire room was visible in the mirror. Tom saw himself standing in the doorway and could clearly see the furniture in the room. What he did not see was Desiree, even though she was standing in the middle of the room itself. She had no reflection.

Desiree's face took on an angry, puzzled look when she saw that Tom was not staring at her, but over her shoulder. She looked over her shoulder to see what he was staring at. When she caught sight of the mirror, her face turned into a fierce grimace of anger and loathing. With a snarl, she snatched up the clock off the floor and flung it at the mirror. With a loud crash and the tinkling of a thousand shards, the mirror shattered everywhere.

Desiree stood still for a moment, her large breasts heaving as she regained her composure. She placed a smile on her face and turned around.

"Where were we?" she asked and then gasped as she stood still, looking at the empty doorway. "Damnation!" she growled as she sprinted with amazing quickness out the door and down the hall.

The breaking of the mirror seemed to snap the mental control Desiree had over Tom. His fear overwhelmed him as he turned and just ran. He did not know where he was running to. His only thought was to get as far away as possible. It was pure, dumb luck that led him down the stairs to the front doors.

Tom burst through the doors, ran down the street, and around the corner without looking back once. Just after he rounded the corner, Desiree pushed open the front door, but backed up quickly as a police raced by with its lights and siren on. With a vile oath, Desiree gave up the chase and went back up to the office.

Tom had absolutely no idea how he got home. From the time the mirror broke until the very second he crossed the threshold of his apartment, his mind was blank. Alone and shaking with fear, he stared around his apartment until he was finally able to get himself under control and oriented as to where he was. The clock on the wall read 4:52. Panting heavily, Tom picked up his phone and dialed.

"Baltimore City Emergency Dispatch."

"I...I'd like to report a murder," gasped Tom in a shaky voice.

"Location of the occurrence?"

"Candlewood Management Group."

"The address, sir?"

Tom shook his head to clear out the fuzziness.

"It's on the fourth floor...The tall building at St. Paul and Pratt."

"Are you injured, sir?"

"What? No...No, I'm fine."

"Who was murdered, sir?"

"David Silverman," replied Tom.

"Can you tell me what happened, sir? Can you give me any details?"

"Desiree, uh, Covington, she...uh..." and Tom stopped, suddenly aware of how blatantly absurd the entire incident would sound to another person. "She, uh, killed him and hid the body."

"Did you witness the murder? What is your name, sir?"

At the last question, Tom stiffened and hung up the phone. He then disconnected the phone line from the wall jack. After pulling a baseball bat out of the hall closet, Tom sat down on the sofa, looking this way and that, as he prepared to defend himself for the rest of the night. Exhausted, both mentally and physically, he instantly fell asleep.

Tom's dreams were both frightening and erotic. He saw himself running naked through a red and black maze. Evil laughter vibrated off the walls as Desiree loomed over the top of the maze, her large breasts suspended like moons above Tom. She lifted her head and guzzled jism from a cock like she was drinking from a soda bottle. The cock collapsed in on itself and Desiree tossed it aside like rubbish. Tom tried to run from her, but kept hitting dead ends. Desiree reached down for him. What Tom could not understand was why she kept pounding against the walls.

Tom jerked awake, clutching tightly to his bat, as the loud banging began again at his front door. Sunlight was streaming in through the window. Tom got up and cautiously approached the front door.

"Who's there?" he called out, raising up his bat.

"Mr. Parta? We're police officers. Do you mind if we ask you a few questions?"

Tom unlocked the door, but left the chain in place. He opened the door to ask for identification, but the man and the woman on the other side were already holding up their badges.

"Wait a minute," said Tom as he closed the door to undo the chain. He propped the bat in the corner and opened the door. "How may I help you?"

"I'm Detective Smith and this is my partner, Detective O'Malley," said the man as they followed Tom into the living room. "We're here about David Silverman."

Tom caught his breath and stared at the two of them warily. The man was in his early forties with grey sprinkled through his black hair. The female detective was much younger, about in her mid-twenties. She even looked like her name with her bright red hair and green eyes. What they saw was a young man with blood-shot eyes and a haggard expression in dirty, wrinkled clothes.

"I don't know what you're talking about," said Tom, trying to appear nonchalant. "Mr. Silverman should be at home."

"He's not," said Detective O'Malley. "Mrs. Silverman called the police this morning to report him missing."

"And..." added Detective Smith, pulling a small pocket recorder out of his jacket pocket.

Detective Smith punched the play button and Tom winched when he heard his voice, very hysterically, telling the dispatcher about Mr. Silverman's murder. Both detectives looked at Tom with suspicion on their faces as Detective Smith stopped the playback.

"Looks like you know more than you're letting on," stated Detective Smith as he put the recorder away. "Why don't we take a ride down to your office and see what's there?"

Tom found himself flanked on both sides by the detectives as they escorted him to their car and drove him down to the office. He felt a chill run up his spine as he approached the front door. He did not have any choice, but to go in as the detectives were determined to see the office. The three of them went up the elevator and stopped in front of the door to the suite. Tom unlocked the door and went in, only to be confronted by three people inside already. Tom immediately recognized one of the two men.

"Mr. Hart!" he exclaimed, surprised.

"Tom," acknowledged Mr. Hart, slowly. "May I ask what you are doing here with these people?"

"Who might you be?" asked Detective O'Malley before Tom could answer.

"William Hart, President and CEO of this company," replied Mr. Hart. "You are...?"

"Detective Colleen O'Malley and this is my partner, Detective Richard Smith," she stated as she looked from Hart to the other two people.

"May I ask why you are here with one of my employees?" asked Hart, ignoring Detective O'Malley's unasked identity question. "If you have a search warrant, I would like to see it."

O'Malley and Smith exchanged looks.

"We are investigating a missing persons report," stated Detective Smith. "Sophia Silverman reported her husband, David, as missing this morning. We came here to ascertain if Mr. Silverman is on the premises."

"And you picked up Mr. Parta to open the office for you? Mr. Parta, the federal securities regulations are very strict. You should have notified me before coming here with non-employees, even if it is the police. I will show the detectives around. We will discuss this on Monday." Hart's last sentence was clearly a dismissal.

"I'm afraid Mr. Parta can't leave just yet," said Detective Smith.

"Why?" asked Hart, as his eyes narrowed in suspicion. "What haven't you told me?"

The two detectives exchanged looks again.

"Early this morning, Mr. Parta called 911 and said that David Silverman had been murdered in this office by Desiree Covington," said Smith. "He hung up before the dispatcher could get all of the information and it was classified as a crank call. When Mrs. Silverman called about her husband, we were informed of Parta's call."

"I see," said Hart. "Ms. Covington is one of our clients and I have to ensure her financial confidentiality. I am willing to show you around the offices to see if David is here."

"Thank you," said Smith. "Detective O'Malley will stay here with Mr. Parta and the other two."

"The other two? I'm sorry, but you can't..."

"It's alright, Villiam," interrupted the other man, speaking with a foreign accent. "I know you are trying to protect us, but if it is a murder, ve vill have to give our names to the officers. Go ahead and see if David is here."

Hart nodded in acquiescence. He then led Smith down the hall to the private offices.

"I am Dr. Sergi Maleski," said the man to O'Malley, while producing a business card for her. "This is my granddaughter, Anya. My address and telephone number is on the card. May I suggest ve get this young man a chair before he collapses onto the floor?"

Tom was indeed swaying back and forth in fatigue. Sergi pulled a chair away from the wall and Tom fell into it. O'Malley kneeled down beside him.

"Mr. Parta, you've had a long night by the looks of things. Why don't you just tell us what Covington did to Silverman?"

"She sucked the life out of him," moaned Tom, his head hanging down in fatigue. "I went to the bathroom. I was working late and it was after one. They were naked in his office."

"What do you mean she sucked the life out of him?" asked O'Malley softly. "What did she do?"

"She was between his..." Tom's head snapped up as he realized what he was saying. His face went beet-red in embarrassment and his tongue clove to the roof of his mouth. He looked over into O'Malley's rich, green eyes and his mouth gaped like a fish as he tried to find the words to say.

"C'mon, Parta," snorted O'Malley in disgust, recognizing his shyness in his inability to talk. "I've heard it all before."

"Excuse me, Detective," interrupted Sergi. "Do you mind if I give it a try?"

"Be my guest," gripped O'Malley, throwing her hands up in the air.

"Let us go into some place a little more private," said Sergi as he opened the door to a glass-walled conference room and led Tom inside. He closed the door as Tom collapsed into one of the swivel chairs. "Vell now, my young friend, you seemed to have had a busy night. How are you feeling?"

"Are you a psychologist, Dr. Maleski?" asked Tom, looking over at the older man. Dr. Maleski was in his late-sixties, about six feet tall with a thin build and silver hair. He was immaculately dressed and had a thin moustache.