Perverse 1

I've really only had one thing going for me most of my life. I'm good looking; very good looking. That's not bragging, it's the truth - which you'll likely believe when I tell you my honest assessment of the rest of my qualities.

I'm not smart, I'm not much of an athlete, I'm not a nice guy, I'm self-centered, I'm lazy, and I don't have much money. At least I wasn't at the start of this story.

Most of what I had achieved in life was solely because of my symmetrical cherubic face, wavy blond hair, and tall and slim body (which looked good but wasn't interested in hard work or athletics).

Because of my good looks I got laid often from the time that I was eighteen. I had very few relationships that lasted long, however, because when a girl/woman would figure out that I wasn't very smart, nice, or hard-working, they would no longer be enamored with my looks and would dump me. With one girl I tried really hard and she actually liked me - maybe even loved me - for a good six months. Then she found out about me cheating on her when we were supposed to be exclusive and dumped me.

I finally finagled an associate's degree in business from the local Community College, although it took me three years and I might have had the lowest grade point average of anyone ever to actually graduate. When I started seeking jobs I found out that - at least for a guy - looks don't mean shit. Employers are interested in what you can do, not how handsome you are.

By the time that I got out of Community College I had just about used up the inheritance my grandfather had left me when he died - my parents were not well off, and weren't interested in helping me anyway - and was desperate to find some type of gainful employment so I started actually visiting places and hand delivering my sparse resume, looking for some sort of entry level job. I was shot down every place that I went for six straight days. The seventh day I finally got lucky - and that was what it was, pure luck.

I was at the receptionist's desk in an ornate lobby hand-delivering a resume. All female receptionists were polite to me because of my looks, but they never made hiring decisions. A deliveryman happened to come into the lobby right after me with a really awkward box that had "FRAGILE" stamped on it in big red letters. As the delivery dude was setting his hand truck down the box tipped over. More by happenstance than an effort to save it on my part it fell on me and knocked me to the floor, but I cushioned its fall so that I didn't hear anything inside of it break.

Of course the falling box incident caused much commotion around that office as several people came over to help lift the box off of me. The delivery guy was very apologetic, and a number of people inquired about any injuries that I might have.

One of the people that was looking on had the look of the "boss man," which was confirmed by everyone deferring to him when he walked over after order had been restored. At least two people called him "Mr. Williams," and the name on the door was "Williams Securities, LLC."

I say that he looked like the boss because he was dressed in a three piece pin striped suit, with a monogramed shirt, a silk tie, polished shoes, and a jewel-encrusted watch. He looked to be about forty, handsome with perfectly cut black hair with a slight hint of gray at the temples. He was about six feet two inches tall, my height, and likely about my weight of 180 pounds too.

"Were you helping deliver our new server?" he asked me, not actually accusing me, but not particularly politely either.

"Uh, no sir," I answered, immediately adopting a deferential persona. "I was just delivering my resume in case you had a need of someone in an entry level position, and I guess I was just in the wrong place when it fell over."

He looked past me to what appeared to be two computer geeks who had already removed what I assumed was a new server from the box while the chagrined deliveryman looked on.

"Any damage?" Williams asked the computer geeks.

"Doesn't look like any, Mr. Williams, but we'll know for sure by the end of the day," one of them sniffled back.

"Well don't sign for it until you're sure - but we really need that thing up and going yesterday, so let's hope that it's OK," he shot back. Then he turned to the delivery dude and barked "Have someone from your office come by tomorrow and we'll advise if there's damage and if there is there will be hell to pay."

The delivery guy just nodded, and left with his tail between his legs.

While this was going on I was just standing there. Williams turned to me again and asked "What's your name?"

"Brett Saunders," I replied.

"Well, Brett, since you might have saved the server, and saved us a shitload of time and effort, the least that I can do is to take your resume," Williams shot back, holding out his hand to get a copy, not to shake mine. Williams was clearly giving me the once over as he said and did that.

"Thank you, Mr. Williams," I said, handing him a copy of my resume.

"Is this your correct phone number and address on it?" he asked.

"Yes sir," I replied.

"Are you married?" was his next question, which startled the shit out of me, although not enough so that I didn't answer it quickly.

"No sir, I'm single," I replied. I swear that the cute redhead receptionist, who couldn't help but listen in to the conversation since this was playing out right in front of her desk, brightened up when I said that, and Williams did not miss her reaction.

"Thanks; I just might give you a call for an interview," he said, then turned and walked down the hall.

*****

The very next morning Williams himself called me to come in for an interview. The interview was bizarre. It was mostly about my past relationships with females, cars, sports, and drinking. From an acquaintance of mine in HR at a big company I knew that most of the questions were inappropriate for a job interview, but I was unskilled and desperate for any job at all, so I just went with the flow.

Williams must have liked my answers because he offered me a job as a glorified go-fer, at a living wage. I jumped at it and started work the next day.

Williams Securities, LLC was essentially involved in wealth management. Williams was a very intelligent guy with good gut instincts, the ability to read people, and where his personal interests or the interests of his clients were involved, completely ruthless. He was one of the few people that I had ever met in my life more self-centered and more unpleasant than I was, and after having been exposed to him for a couple of months he was the last person that I wanted to emulate despite his success and wealth.

In my job I had about the strangest responsibilities - if you could call them that - of anyone that I had ever heard of. I didn't really have a job description but I performed menial tasks for most of the day, including specifically interacting with all of the female employees. However, whenever a female client, or wife or girlfriend of a male client, was in the office, or needed to be picked up at the airport or elsewhere in the city, I was always involved and introduced as one of Williams' "business associates," instead of an errand boy. I actually did learn something about the business in those meetings, and in the follow-up to them where Williams assigned me tasks in front of the clients. He usually took the tasks back and re-assigned them the next day, but I did get some experience in dealing with actual business issues.

I was doing well enough monetarily that after about six months I signed a year lease for a new, nicer, apartment, and financed a better car, a used Ford. I was also, as usual, having great success with females. Although I had been warned by acquaintances against it, this included (although it was not restricted to) two females at work, the cute redheaded receptionist, Denise, and one of the analysts (a high level job), Michele.

Denise was single, my age (twenty three); she had the tightest little pussy and the cutest little squeal when she orgasmed. Michele was thirty three, in the process of getting a divorce, and had the nicest tits with big firm suck-able nipples and would try anything in bed. I porked each of them a couple of times a week; however, for the first time in my life I was discrete about it.

On what would have been my seventh month anniversary with Williams Securities, LLC, Williams - who I always called "Mr. Williams" except when interfacing with female clients, or wives or girlfriends of male clients, when I was instructed to call him "Jerry" - called me into his office about ten a. m.

After motioning for me to sit down and telling his secretary to hold his calls he stared at me and got right to it. "Brett, I've been observing you carefully over the last seven months. Want to hear my assessment?"

Not really sure that I wanted to, but not wanting to tell him that, I stammered out, "Uh... sure, Mr. Williams."

"You're never going to make it in business. You aren't smart or diligent enough, and you don't have business instincts. However, you are as talented as anyone I've ever seen in getting a positive reaction from women. In fact, it's hard to believe that you've gotten that cold bitch Michele to fuck you, something that I completely struck out on," he matter-of-factly said.

That shocked the socks off of me for many reasons. The foremost reasons were "How did he know that I was fucking Michele;" "He's married, and from the photo on his desk his wife looks awesome;" and "Why in the hell would he say shit like this to me?"

I guess that I just sat there with my mouth open, but I don't think that he was expecting a reply. At least he started right in again, continuing to make eye contact.

"Anyway, I'm going to terminate your job at Williams Securities, but I am offering you another job that plays right up to your talents, with another company that I own called 'Mystic Endeavors, LLC.' Before I go into your job description, however, you have to sign this confidentiality agreement." With that he handed me an envelope marked "Confidential" in big read letters; inside was a two page, single spaced, document.

"Read the confidentiality agreement over, Brett, and meet me for lunch at the Metropolitan Club 2nd floor dining room at 12:30. I've given them your name. Do not tell anyone about meeting with me, or what we just discussed - clear?"

"Yes, sir, Mr. Williams," I quickly replied.

"Also, don't read the document where anyone else can see it. Go into the small conference room and close the door," he continued, as he made a motion with his hand shooing me out.

I did as Williams instructed.

I couldn't fucking believe what the document said. It was both an employment and a confidentiality agreement. For $10,000 a year more than I was making now, plus the use of a one year old shiny black Corvette and the use of a company high-end condo when I wanted it, I was going to be tasked with seducing "one or more females, to be designated by The Company," the term "The Company" referring to Mystic Endeavors, LLC. I could never reveal, under penalty of returning all money The Company had ever paid me plus punitive damages for breach of confidentiality, anything about my work, ever, unless required to in a Court of law. I would only be advised of the "one or more females" I would be tasked to seduce once I signed the agreement. I would give the seduction my "best efforts," and report details of my success to The Company on a weekly basis.

I was still in shock when I showed up at the Metropolitan Club at 12:28. Williams was already there, sitting at a private table in the far corner of the lavish second floor dining room. The maître de quickly showed me to the location.

After ordering himself a martini and me an imported beer, Williams didn't waste any time. "Well, are you going to execute the Confidentiality Agreement? One thing that I didn't tell you is that you're going to be terminated from Williams Securities whether you sign it or not."

To be honest, the last statement was the only thing about the entire situation that I expected. I was not in a position, with my apartment lease and car payment, to refuse, although I very likely would have agreed to my new confidential employment status anyway.

"I'm inclined to sign, Mr. Williams. I would like to know, however, who the 'one or more females' is or are."

"Sorry; you sign then you'll find out," he said, handing me a Cross pen as the waiter delivered our drinks.

As I took the pen Williams ordered lunch for both of us. "Two lobster specials," he told the waiter. As soon as the waiter disappeared he said "I know that lobster is your favorite food but that you can't afford it; I want you to get a taste of the good life that you'll lead if you join Mystic Endeavors."

"How in the fuck did he know that lobster was my favorite food?" shot through my brain. He saw the bemused look on my face. "I know a lot about you Brett; now are you going to sign the fucking agreement or not?"

I pulled the agreement out of my jacket pocket and signed and dated it. I handed him the executed agreement and the Cross pen. "Keep the pen, Brett; and here's a watch for you too," he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a Tag Huer watch. "It's worth $5,000 but it's only yours to use, not keep, unless you're successful. Then you keep it as a bonus," he said with a diabolical grin.

"Nice," was all that I could think to say as I put the pen in my shirt pocket, and the watch on my wrist. It did look good there.

"Here's your target," Williams said while handing me a photo as he sipped his martini.

I had seen several photos of the woman, though I had never met her. I had never seen a photo of her like this, however - she was naked. I couldn't help but blurt out "This is your wife, Gina!"

"Perceptive," Williams replied with an even more diabolical grin.

"I...I don't understand," I stammered.

"I'm not much on staying married for a long time, or fidelity," Williams nonchalantly replied. "She's my third wife; I've been married four years and even though she's a great fuck it's time for a new model. However, according to my pre-nup, if I just divorce her she gets ten times what she'd get if I can demonstrate that she has cheated. You're going to get her to cheat."

"WOW," was about all that I could say.

Williams talked almost non-stop for the next thirty five minutes, interrupting his diatribe only temporarily as he was chewing the lobster special. Despite my love of the taste of the spiny creatures I was kind of in a fog as he threw dozens of facts and hints at me, so I didn't really taste it like I would have liked to.

In summary, Williams told me that my looks were exactly her type as demonstrated by the last two boyfriends that she had before she married Williams, that she had a high libido and that he had basically cut her off for a month so she should be primed. Despite that, I should take it slow - and have a goal of fucking her within three or four months. It would help if I could get three glasses of wine into her within an hour's time, although she watched her alcohol intake carefully, and that I was not to use a ruffy. He also said that she loved material things and flattery so to lay on the compliments and if I needed to buy any jewelry or baubles for her to let him know and he would give the money to me.

At the end of the lunch he handed me a dossier which included more information about her, including her age (twenty nine) and background, how he speculated that she spent her days, and what subjects she most liked to talk about. It also included a four month guest pass to his country club. His final words were "Bring this dossier to your apartment ten minutes after I exit the club, leave the watch and pen at your apartment, then come into the office where I'll fire you in a pleasant though firm manner."

I did as asked, cleaned out my desk that same day, and never set foot in Williams Securities, LLC again.

*****

As I made my preparations for meeting up with Gina I resolved that I was going to be so successful that I would get the $50,000 bonus called for in the employment and confidentiality agreement. The bonus would be gained if I fucked Gina, got proof, and testified to all details at a deposition and/or trial, while denying any conspiracy with Jerry Williams. In some research I had done I had found out that on paper Mystic Endeavors, LLC had no association with Williams. "And maybe she'll be a good fuck, besides," I chortled to myself in a completely self-congratulatory manner. She did look good in the naked photo that Williams had given me.

My first three real days "on the job," I never was able to even find Gina Williams. Jerry's dossier had her spending most of her time shopping at the mall, going to the country club to swim and to play tennis and golf, going to the beauty parlor, playing cards with a bridge club, and going to musical performances and plays. I was never able to find her at any of these locations those first three days. I decided not to rely on Jerry's "intelligence," since it was obviously flawed, and to tail her. For that I used my three-year-old Ford, rather than the flashy Corvette that Jerry had provided to me.

I followed Gina for a week before making any attempt at contact. Every new place that she went I had to chuckle. I couldn't believe that Jerry had been married to her for four years and knew almost nothing about her - or maybe she was intentionally keeping her normal life private from him.

In that first week Gina went to volunteer at Charity A two six hour days, Charity B two four hour days, and Charity C one five hour day. This included working with battered women to help them regain self-confidence and get jobs, teaching indigent children to read, and providing event planning for fund raisers. She also taught a Strip Aerobics class for ninety minutes each on two days, took a two hour acting class one day, a ceramics glass at the local community college for ninety minutes one day, and worked out for an hour on each of three days. The only time that she went to the country club was to work out, or to meet people for lunch to talk about the charities that she volunteered with.

I have to say that I was impressed by how busy she was, how diverse her activates were, and about her commitment to other people. The most surprising of all was her teaching of Strip Aerobics, since she certainly didn't need the money. By paying off a custodian, I was able to surreptitiously observe about a half hour of the second of her Strip Aerobics classes of that week. While no one in the class actually stripped naked, they did - including Gina - strip down to a string bikini, and worked up a real sweat doing so.

Although I wasn't right next to her, seeing Gina in the string bikini definitely got my juices flowing, and tented my pants. Gina is about five one, one hundred ten pounds, with small but perky tits, sculptured exquisite thighs, and a truly world class ass. Her face is, by any measure, beautiful, with laughing big brown eyes, full lips, and a "Celestial" nose. She normally wears her shiny, wavy brown hair with red highlights, flowing around her shoulders, although she puts it up in a bun or pony tail when teaching Strip Aerobics or exercising in the country club workout rooms.

After that first week I quickly developed a plan. I would volunteer at Charity A for the same days, and in the same area, as Gina did, and I would make every attempt to be in the country club workout rooms before she arrived there so she wouldn't know that I was following her. This required putting a GPS tracker on her car - which turned out to be no problem. Because she never went in a particular direction unless she was going to the country club I could hopefully anticipate her arrival there.