The office lobby was dark and that suited me. Outside the rain hammered against the glass doors, beyond that, nothing. Nothing until the blackness was filled Susan's silhouette. Her sodden clothes and hair flat against her skin, accentuating the hard lines of her face and body. I opened the door and as she entered, the wind drew back down the street, rather than follow her in.
She thumped a black dufflebag down on to the worn carpet and finished her cigarette, toeing it out on the carpet. 'You got the photos?'
I nodded, 'The bitch is all alone up there on the Partner's Floor.'
She grunted, pushing past me to the lifts, shouting back for me to bring her bag.
Up on the Partner's floor, the thick carpet and teak muffled all noise to an appropriate level of respect. Normally bustling with minions eager to help the occupants of these select offices, it was deserted now. My stomach knotted as we reached Ms Smithson's door. Susan just smiled and strolled into the office as if she were entering a bar.
'Well well.' Susan said, taking a good look. 'So this is the marvellous office you're so proud of.' The large room didn't suffer from the drab grey-brown paint of the open plan offices below. Expensive ambient lighting instead of flickering neon and curtains that didn't move every time there was a breeze outside.
'What the devil are you doing here?'
'Well that's no way to greet your favourite sister-in-law is it.' Susan replied, resting her hands on the other side of a desk big enough to lie spread-eagled on.
I closed the thick oak door behind me. It thudded into the frame like a carved block of granite. The lock was equally as sturdy. No one was going to disturb us.
Ms Smithson looked at me as if I'd just rolled in something. 'What's he doing here?'
Without warning, Susan began to unbutton her blouse, taking Ms Smithson's attention back immediately.
'What on earth do you think you're doing?'
'I've decided to teach you a lesson Helen.' She stopped unbuttoning long enough to throw the photos onto the table. Now if you want these, take off your clothes.'
Ms Smithson looked at the photos. 'A Christmas peck on the cheek, that's all.' She sighed theatrically. 'How much money do you want?'
'Not everything is about your precious money Helen.' She let her blouse fall to the floor and began to unbutton her jeans.
'Really? Then you have changed your tune.' She stood and tried to look in control, but the usually smooth Ms Smithson, with her wry smile just wasn't there.
'This is about Jed.' Susan said as she pulled her muscled legs out of the jeans.
'Jed? I thought he'd seen sense and dumped you.'
'You told him that the last man I dated ended up in hospital with his dick in a cool box.' She stood there in just her bra and knickers, which were as sodden as the rest of her clothes, the white cotton transparent where it stretched across her skin. A tiger was tattooed across her shoulder blades ripping the heart out of a deer. She could only be in her twenties, but already it had faded.
'Why don't you ask the rest of your shitty little family where he got that from? Which by the way is the truth, isn't it?'
'Ken will divorce you and leave you with nothing Helen. You know that as well as I do. He'll make sure you never work again and I'll make sure that the windows of whatever hovel you end up in are never left unbroken. You'll never know who'll climb through them.'
Ms Smithson knew that these were no idle threats. Mr Smithson was as ruthless as they come, and you only had to look at Susan, stood there, hard as hell itself, to know that she was cast from the same mould. Susan retrieved her trousers and started to pull them on. 'Have it your way'.
'No wait.' Ms Smithson stole a look at me.' He leaves.'
'No.'
Susan knelt and retrieved an envelope from her bag, tossing it on the desk. 'Every copy is there. It's yours once you show me you're the same as the rest of us. Come on Helen, we're in your territory, your marriage is on the rocks. Are you really that precious?'
'You'll be history soon anyway Simon.' She took off her jacket and her crisp white blouse followed, revealing a black lace bra. She stepped out of her shoes and hesitated for a moment, looking again to Susan to measure the need for this. Susan starred back impassively, the faintest of smiles cutting her face. The black cotton skirt followed, leaving her only the scant protection of her bra and matching knickers. She stood there in her pool of outer garments, her body in stark contrast to Susan's. Soft rounded lines and unblemished creamy skin, unblemished that was except for a crescent shaped birthmark below her left breast.
I almost told her to undo that tight bun her hair was always trapped by, never a lock permitted to stray. But then Susan unstrapped her bra, not that her tiny breasts needed any support. She then unclipped the side fastenings to her knickers and let them fall to the floor, revealing a Brazilian wax that would make the hardiest of fashion models wince. 'If you want the photos then you'll follow suit.' She said.
Ms Smithson's face remained impassive as slowly she reached behind and undid her bra, placing it before her on the desk, ready to pick up again as quickly as possible. She paused and took another look at Susan. 'I don't think I'm better than you.'
'Then you won't mind stripping will you.'
She hooked her thumbs into her knickers and pulled them down, blushing horribly. Careful that neither of them saw me, I reached across the front of my trousers to readjust myself.
