Donna Williamson knocked on the door, and wondered again why her boss, Ben King, had wanted to meet her here at the hotel. She was important in the company, and she knew that he was meeting with some overseas clients, but she rarely met with the clients. She was strictly a behind the scenes employee.
Donna was a beautiful woman, standing just over 5'6" tall, with long, light brown, almost blonde hair that she habitually kept up in a loose bun. She had a fine boned, angular face with a slim, aristocratic nose, and high cheekbones. Her pouty, full lips always seemed posed on the verge of a smile or a pout.
Most men noticed her face, though, after they had looked at her body. She tried to keep her voluptuous figure hidden for the most part, wearing knee length skirts and business jackets, but it only worked so well. The skirts showed off her perfect ass, plusher than Stefannie Peters by degrees, and her high, firm breasts, slightly larger than grapefruits, were enticingly visible despite the jackets that she chose to wear.
Her gut tumbled nervously as the door opened. She smiled at Sam Peters nervously, and then stepped into the room. King was sitting on a wide, low couch, and she glanced behind her at Peters. He was lounging against the wall, looking at her with an amused expression on his face.
"Um, what did you want, Mr. King?"
"Well, Ms. Williamson, I was wondering if you could help us out. As you know, I am entertaining some very important clients here." He smiled at her, and Donna nodded as his eyes slipped down her body, inspecting her breasts and then her exposed legs.
"Of course, Mr. King, but I . . . I don't often see clients. The accounting department isn't very exciting, you know."
She stood looking at him, and after a time he raised his eyes to hers once again. She was blushing from his casual survey of her body, and was surprised. He had always acted like a perfect gentleman before, even if he had made some comments that had struck her odd. After a moment, she realized he was not going to say anything else.
"Um, what can I do for you?' she said.
But it was Peters who answered. "Well, Ms. Williamson, we are in a fix. We arranged for a stripper to entertain the men, but she had to cancel. We were wondering if you would be willing to take her place. Ben here asked me if I knew of anyone, and I suggested you."
Donna looked back at Peters angrily, and shocked. He, opposite from king, had always given her the creeps. Every time she was around, he surveyed her body frankly, and had made suggestions to her more than once. She had wanted to tell his wife, but he seemed to have a large influence in the company, and she did not want to risk her position.
"That's insane," she said. "There's no way I am going to degrade myself like that! I'm getting married in two weeks!"
"Well, that's to bad," King said, and she could hear the smile in his voice. "We were hoping you would be cooperative. Well, you can go now, then."
"Thank you," she shot back sarcastically, and turned to leave the room when Peters' voice stopped her.
"Of course, we'll have to call the police," he said casually.
Donna froze in her tracks, and swallowed. "What for?" she asked in a hoarse whisper, and he smiled at her in a way she absolutely did not like.
"I think you know that, Ms. Williamson," he said. "Embezzlement from an employer is a felony crime."
Donna Williamson's stomach dropped out, and her heart seemed to stop.
She had paid back almost all the money, but she knew that wouldn't matter, not to the police. She had been in a pinch early this year – more than a pinch, actually, and had had to 'borrow' close to fifteen thousand dollars from the company to get out of the scrape. It had not been something she had been proud of, but she had paid back all but five thousand of the money she had siphoned out of the company.
"I am figuring the money you actually paid back should be counted as interest, Ms. Williamson," King said. "I will pay you tonight, say, two fifty a dance. That's sixty dances. If you don't pay back the full amount tonight, you will owe us one more session.
"That is, unless you would rather we call the police."
Donna Williamson looked back and forth between the two men. Her heart was beating rapidly in her chest, and she could not seem to catch her breath. The men had her trapped. She tried desperately to think of a way out, but peters gave her no time. "What do you say, Ms. Williamson? It's just a harmless little dance, after all."
"And . . . and that's all I'll have to do?" she asked in a soft voice.
"Of course," King said, and smiled at Peters widely. King had had no idea the man was so devious until a month ago, but he liked the guys initiative.
"I . . ." have no choice, she said to herself. She tried to think, but both the men were looking at her with shark's eyes. "I guess I don't really have a choice. Just dancing, though." That should be harmless enough. She had had a roommate in college, and that girl had put herself through a four-year degree by dancing.
"Good. Put these on," and Peters threw her a dry cleaners package.
Ten minutes later they stepped into another room, much larger than the one Peters and King had been in. Donna was blushing brightly. She was dressed now in a short, tight miniskirt that showed her plush ass off to a tee, coming too higher than mid-thigh. She was also wearing silk thigh high stalkings and a g-string. Her bra fastened in the back, but it was a flimsy silk thing, which pushed her already proud breasts up and out in what she considered an obscene fashion.
