Blacmailing Jessica

Carmen was a short and voluptuous brunette, with long hair and dark eyes that sparkled as she spoke. Jessica had no real close friends to speak of. She had always been quite reserved, and tended to keep people at arm's length emotionally. Still, she and Carmen, because of the similarity of their ages, had grown to enjoy each other's company over the last year. As an administrative assistant to several account managers, Carmen was the source for office gossip.

She had an uninhibited sexuality that sometimes embarrassed Jessica, yet also provoked some envy. Always giggling and flirting, she attracted quite a bit of male attention around the office.

And she dresses like a slut.

Carmen rarely kept a boyfriend for more than two months -- often, she dated three or four guys at a time. As they enjoyed their lattes at the Starbucks in the building lobby, Carmen described one of her latest flirtations.

"And I told him, you know, that I didn't want anything to do with no married man." She waved her hands expressively in front of her. "Not me. So you know what he did?" Jessica shook her head. "He sent me flowers! To my apartment! Can you believe that?"

"What did you do?" Jessica asked.

Carmen laughed merrily. "I sent them to his house! To his wife!"

"You did not!" Jessica was astonished.

"I did." Carmen nodded empathetically. "No note or anything, just the flowers. I bet that will get him the message. He won't bother me again."

Jessica's mother would not have approved of Carmen. A strict Catholic, she had raised Jessica, her only child, by herself in a small farm town in eastern Washington. Her father had departed when Jessica was quite young -- she had never asked exactly why, but given her mother's fury at "scheming jezebels," Jessica could only imagine that her father had become tired of his dour, spiteful wife and run off with someone else.

Jessica was a virgin when she went off to college. Her first sexual experience, with a drunken frat boy in the back of his VW van, was a disaster. She remembered crying uncontrollably for hours afterwards.

During her first year in college her mother died from lung cancer -- probably caused by all those years sitting in that smoke-filled bingo hall. Even years after her death, the fierce, dominating persona of her mother continued to haunt her. Jessica had only been with four men.

Probably as many as Carmen sees in a weekend.

For a moment, they both sipped their drinks in silence. "Can I ask you something?" asked Jessica impulsively. "What do you think about men and women? About the power dynamic between them?"

Carmen looked puzzled. "The power dynamic? At the office?"

"Oh, I don't know," she replied vaguely. "Just in general, I guess."

"You don't want to know what I think."

"What do you mean?" Jessica sat back in surprise.

Carmen sighed. "You're always going on with that feminist nonsense, how women are oppressed by men. It's ridiculous."

"It is not ridiculous!" Jessica declared. "It's a real problem in this country! Why, compared to women, men make --"

Carmen held up a hand, silencing her. "See what I mean? I told you. All you do is lecture."

"But it's true, Carmen! If you only knew what women have gone through --"

"What, you think I'm just some stupid

Latina

bimbo?" Her dark eyes flashed. "I went to college, Jess. I even have a degree in psychology. Graduated with honors. I know about the women's rights movement."

Jessica was surprised and a little embarrassed. She had assumed that Carmen merely had a high school diploma, possibly only a GED.

You're not racist, Jessica, you're not.

"What I think," Carmen said, tapping the tabletop with a dark red lacquered nail, "is that the man should be the boss. At home and at work."

"No, not at all!" Jessica was empathetic. "It should be equal!"

"It's not equal, and you know that. You want to work for a woman? I don't. I have before, and it sucked."

"That's not true." Jessica crossed her arms and sat back in her chair, a little confused. "I have plenty of men in my department and we work very well together."

"No, you don't." The little brunette shook her head. "You think you do, but you're wrong. They hate it. Think you're a ball-busting bitch."

Jessica was silent. She had heard the rumors about her nickname.

Ice Princess.

Of course, they'd be somewhat resentful. Another thing a successful career woman had to endure in an industry dominated by men.

Carmen giggled. "They probably secretly fantasize about bending you over the desk!"

"Carmen!" Jessica blushed, remembering the man who had done almost exactly that. "You're terrible!"

"There's nothing wrong with being feminine. I like being a woman. You want to be a man? I don't. I like men, Jess. I like them because they're strong, and they take control, and they tell me what to do."

Jessica shook her head. "You can be feminine and still be strong, Carmen."

Carmen lowered her voice. "It's a turn on. You can't tell me you don't like it when a man takes control in bed? Slaps you around a little bit ... pulls your hair and spanks your ass ... pins you down and ravishes you?"

Jessica couldn't respond.

Spanks your ass.

Her face reddened even more.

"I'll bet Daniel wasn't like that." Carmen made a disdainful brush-off motion with her hand.

"No," Jessica replied, somewhat ruefully, "he wasn't like that at all." Daniel was Jessica's former lover, a dot-com millionaire ten years her senior. Even with all his money, he still had no social skills at all. They never went out together, only saw each other two or three times a month. The sex was almost robotic, passionless and unimaginative, which was exactly how Jessica wanted it.

She had abruptly stopped seeing him several months previously. Truth be told, she secretly despised him, a dorky nerd with money. The last thing she needed was to get mixed up with some guy. Her career was the important thing.

Carmen leaned forward, almost whispering. "I tell you, Jess, if a decent rich guy came along, a guy that liked having sex, wanted to marry me, I'd do it this quick." She snapped her fingers. "A beautiful house to live in, nice car, don't have to work, could raise kids, spend my days at Nordstrom's and Gene Juarez " She sighed dreamily. "I would do anything he told me to. I'd cook for him, clean for him.

Mierda,

I'd suck him off every morning and take his dick in my ass every night if he wanted!"

"Carmen!" Jessica exclaimed. Her friend could be so graphic sometimes! It excited and unsettled her. "Then you'd be nothing more than a slave!"

Slave.

Carmen shrugged. "So what? It would make me happy." Her dark eyes softened. "How about you, Jess? Are you happy?"

Jessica sighed. The truth was, she'd felt more alive over the past two weeks than she had ever felt in her life.

Since you met Drew.

"Come on," Carmen pressed. "You should go out on the town with Maria and I one night. We'll show you how to have a good time."

Oh sure. Probably something involving a bottle of tequila and a funnel.

"No, Carmen, I appreciate the invitation --"

"When is the last time you had an adventure? Something wild and unpredictable?" Carmen waved her hands again. "Probably been awhile."

Now that you mention it, just last week, a man whipped my naked ass in a public parking garage with his belt after buying me lunch. Does that count?

Jessica was silent a few moments, remembering. Carmen re-crossed her legs with a swish of nylon, adjusting the fall of the skirt on her thigh. "So, how about the new guy in your office? Some of the girls think he's a hottie."

"Who?" Jessica asked distractedly.

"The new writer. Drew." Carmen pretended to fan herself. "Pretty cute

gringo.

"

"Oh." The name hit her like a punch, dazing her with its impact. "Him. Yeah, I hadn't noticed."

"I heard he even played golf with Bowman last weekend," Carmen confided in a low tone.

"Old man Bowman?" Carmen nodded. Jessica slowly turned the information over in her mind.

How the fuck had he managed that?

Jessica hated golf. Despite a thousand dollars in lessons and three times that much on clubs, she could never get the hang of it. It seemed so stupid, hitting a ball around with a little stick. She had tried, because so many deals were made on the golf course, but it was one of the many things she despised about the male-dominated world of business.

She preferred kickboxing. Releasing her aggression on the heavy bag was certainly therapeutic. "Why do you bring him up anyway?" she asked, irritated.

"'Cause he's over there," Carmen said, pointing.

Her heart pounded as she looked up, seeing him approach. They hadn't had any contact since that afternoon in the garage. She knew where his cubicle was, but she had made it a point not to even go near the bullpen.

Still, she'd heard about him, from one of the firm's directors. Apparently, he got along well with the other writers and the managing editor. The client had effusively praised his first assignment, some writing content for an outdoor equipment catalog. Jessica had hoped he'd fail miserably, his inadequacies readily apparent. She could have passed off her recommendation of him as merely a lapse in judgement. Apparently, that was not to be the case.

"Hello, ladies." He looked at Jessica. "I thought I might find you here."

"I was wondering when I'd meet the new guy," said Carmen, smiling and extending her hand. "I'm Carmen, and this is Jessica."

No need to stick your tits out like that.

Jessica blinked several times. Where had that come from?

"I'm Drew, very nice to meet you. I already know Miss Landers," he said, a slight smile on his face. "She interviewed me for the position."

"Oh, I didn't know that," said Carmen, somewhat accusingly. She glanced at Jessica archly.

"How are things, Drew?" Jessica tried to keep the tremor out of her voice. "Getting settled in?"

"Oh, it's great." He grabbed a chair from a nearby table, turned it backward, and straddled it. "You've got a good bunch of people here, I must say. Very talented. Much better than the last firm I worked for."

You mean, on your bullshit resume?

Jessica clenched her fists. Her eyes darted back and forth. Carmen was smiling broadly, leaning slightly forward.

Slut.

He looked at Jessica, that little smirk still on his face. "I wanted to let you know, there's a package on the way for you from FedEx. Probably here by now." He made eye contact with her. "I expect you'll have it in place for the brainstorming session," he said firmly.

Oh no.

Anxiety churned in her belly.

What now?

There was a meeting scheduled for later that afternoon, with several writers and account executives, as well as one of the marketing managers, about a new product line for a client. Jessica had been dreading it all week, from the moment she saw his name on the agenda distribution list.

"I'll see what I can do," she replied tersely. "Nothing like waiting until the last minute, huh?"

He chuckled and stood up. "I'll see you at the meeting, then."

"Nice ass," Carmen whispered as he walked away. "I can see why you hired him, Jess."

"It's not like that," Jessica snapped. "He's just a writer."

"I don't know." Carmen raised her eyebrows. "I saw how he looked at you. Maybe he has a thing for redheads."

The package.

Jessica stood up abruptly, grabbing her purse. "I have to go."

"So soon? We just got here! And I haven't even told you about my date with Kevin!"

"No, I have to take care of something." Denise opened all the mail -- she had to get to her office and intercept the damn package. Who knew what was in it? The familiar tickle started in the pit of her belly, that mixture of resentment and trepidation. She strode quickly towards the elevators.

Goddamn you.

She could almost hear his little chuckle as she quickened her pace.

Thankfully, Denise was away from her desk and the small blue and white box hadn't been opened. Jessica snatched it up and went into her office, breathing heavily. The return address was some place called Orbit Enterprises in Seattle.

The object inside was grotesque. It was about six inches long, a rubbery black shaft with a slightly bumpy texture. From the rounded end, it flared slightly down its length, with a smaller flange at the bottom and a flat base. Jessica turned it in her hand, puzzled. The other item in the box was a small tube, and she picked it up. Lubricant? Her pulse began to race.

"Oh, my God, no," she whispered. Her ass tightened involuntarily as the realization hit her. She had heard about such things, but never even dared to imagine what one might look like. Heat rose in her cheeks as she set it down quickly. Surely, he doesn't ...

Of course, that was exactly what he wanted.

I expect you'll have it in place for the brainstorming session.

This was too much. Her stomach churned. There was no way she could go through with it. Standing abruptly, she paced around the office, fists clenched. She needed to move, to think!

The intercom buzzed. "Miss Landers? Mr. Bowman called while you were out. He was wondering if you had the revenue-share numbers completed yet."

As she stared at the hideous rubber object, the words hardly registered.

Get a grip, Jessica.

She fumbled for the intercom button. "Yes, I have it, Denise. I'll run them up there right now."

"And there was a package," her secretary continued. "I signed for it, but it's not on my desk ..."

"Don't worry about it. Just some product samples from a client. I took care of it." Opening her desk drawer, she put the lubricant and buttplug inside, shuddering as she touched them. Better hide the box, too. When she picked it up, a small piece of paper fluttered to the floor.

She bent down and retrieved it, expecting some taunting note.

You're mine now, Jessica.

Instead, it was an order form, with one item circled. Her hand began to tremble. "Now on DVD!! Sorority Punishment 4."

She sucked in her breath, trying to steady herself, then tucked the box and the slip of paper into her drawer and slammed it shut. Grabbing the file from the desk, she strode resolutely from the office.

Clarence Bowman was Jessica's mentor at Aston-Fremont. In fact, he had lobbied quite heavily for her appointment to director. He seemed to regard her as one of his own children. Jessica knew his interest wasn't sexual -- he had been married for almost thirty years, and had five daughters of his own. Over the past several years, they had developed a genuine friendship.

He smiled as she entered the office. "Jessica, my dear! How are you?"

For a few minutes they discussed the data from the online advertising revenue information she had collected. Finally he nodded, satisfied. "Looks good, Jessica. You're always on top of things."

"Thank you, sir." She smiled, pleased at his compliment.

"Oh, by the way," he said with a baritone chuckle, "I met your new writer last weekend. Drew. At the country club."

Her smile was now a frozen grimace but she forced herself to nod, dreading what was to come.

"He's quite a golfer, you know." Bowman stood up and pantomimed swinging a club with his hands. "A six handicap. As it turned out, we need a fourth. Drew and I partnered up -- Clark couldn't make it, something came up at the last minute -- and we kicked the crap out of those two ambulance chasers."

Jessica knew he meant Bud Driscoll and Jack Sawyer, two attorneys and avid golfers who worked in the building. What the hell was Drew doing at the country club? And how had he "happened" to run into Bowman? The Cascade Ridge club was quite exclusive. A yearly membership was over sixty thousand dollars.

"How ..." She cleared her throat. "I mean, is he a member?"

Bowman shook his head. "No, but apparently he used to give lessons there. He's a friend of one of the club's board members. I didn't even know who he was until he came up and introduced himself."

"How interesting."

A golf pro, too? Who the hell are you?

Bowman laughed again, remembering. "I'll tell you, he had some damn funny stories. Quite a guy. There was one shot he made on the fourteenth, just out of the rough ..."

She smiled and nodded as he continued, not hearing a word. To her, the only thing more boring than playing the stupid game was listening to a long-winded story about it.

What did he tell you? About me?

Of course it wouldn't do to ask. She kept the smile plastered to her face, nodding occasionally as he talked, the thoughts whirling through her.

"... and then when he chipped in from the fringe on eighteen, I thought ol' Bud was going to blow a gasket," Bowman concluded. "Took 'em for fifteen hundred each."

"That's wonderful." She surreptitiously glanced at her watch. The meeting she had been dreading was only thirty minutes away.

I expect you'll have it in place ...

Imagining the menacing rubbery plug sitting in her desk drawer, she shuddered.

"So, you're still coming to my anniversary party next month, I hope?" he asked.

"Oh, I wouldn't miss it," she assured him.

"Feel free to bring a date, Jessica." He looked at her slyly. "Are you seeing anyone?"

"No." She was empathetic. "Why do you ask?"

"Because you've been," he shrugged, "distracted lately, it seems. Missing work, that sort of thing. Very unlike you. I thought there might be a little romance in your life. For a change."

"I don't have time for that." She shook her head.

"An attractive woman like you, Jessica ... you need to have a little fun, once in a while. A little adventure."

She sighed, remembering Carmen telling her the same thing. "I don't need any more adventures. Trust me on that one."

"Oh, I invited Drew to the party as well," he said casually. "I hope you don't mind. It's just that we got along so well."

The pit of her stomach dropped away. "No, that's fine," she chirped. "Why would I mind?"

I have to get out of here before I throw up.

Luckily, the phone rang at that moment. As he picked up the receiver she stood up, her legs wobbling a bit. He waved silently to her as she left.

Back in her office she closed and locked the door of her private bathroom. She picked up the rubbery object, then set it back down quickly, recoiling inwardly at the very thought of what she had to do.

It's not like you need an instruction manual, Jessica. Just get it over with.

She scrubbed the hideous thing clean with soap and water, then dried it with a paper towel. Reaching back, she pulled up her skirt, then slid her pantyhose and panties down around her thighs. Her hands were shaking as she opened the tube of lubricant and squeezed a small amount over the rounded tip of the rubbery shaft.

Jessica bent slightly over the sink, reaching behind her with both hands. She shuddered as the slimy tip touched her, the muscles contracting involuntarily.

He likes humiliating me like this -- he's probably imagining it right now.

It was her most intimate and private area. She had never allowed a man to even touch her there.

"Relax," she whispered, taking several deep breaths. Slowly she increased the pressure, feeling it enter her. After only an inch or so, the stretching became quite painful. She pulled it out and set it back on the counter, blinking tears from her eyes.

There was no way she could fit this disgusting thing inside her. Anxiously she glanced at her watch -- the meeting was less than ten minutes away.

I expect you'll have it in place ...

Questions tumbled through her mind. How would she hold it in there? What if it slipped out? Would her jacket cover her ass? Will the outline show through her skirt?

Obviously, he wasn't going to check -- how would he know if she didn't comply?

He'll know.