Author's note: This story contains descriptions and scenes of non-consensual sex.
I operate my own small accounting business specializing in leasing its employees to moderate sized, well established firms; nothing very large, just a dozen or so associates at any one time. Any more than a dozen or so girls and I wouldn't be able to keep up with them. Yes, I only hire women, and only women of a certain type.
As I called Marsha Harrison into my office I thought about the first time I saw her. It had been six months ago but even then I knew, almost immediately, that I would hire her. She was perfect for my taste.
Marsha was young and trim. Body shape is very important to me and I like my girls to be just right, neither too fat nor too slender. She had mousy brown hair, but it was cut shoulder length and flipped under just so. The moment I first saw her I imagined my hand sliding along her neck under that hair, under that flip, and then pulling her forcefully to me. I didn't do that then, of course, but very soon I would, maybe even today.
Marsha had been dressed that first day much as she was today, conservatively but stylish. I don't like girls that are too forward or overly fashion conscious, but I do like intelligent women with a sense of taste. My kind of girl liked to follow modern trends, not set them.
So she stepped into my office and sat in the same chair she had interviewed with the firm in. Marsha had only been in the office a number of times since then. I had a long track record of making sure my employees fitted seamlessly within my client's corporate structures and I only kept a few key employees here at the home office. The firms I dealt with prized loyalty and service above all else. Oh, and discretion too, my girls were very discreet. To a girl, they were very discreet.
"Thanks for coming in today, Ms. Harrison," I began. I always treated my girls formally and demanded the same civility from them, whether in public or in private. I believe that decorum is an essential element missing from most relationships these days. People just don't act very civil with each other in modern society. Call me old-fashioned, but I believe in civility.
"It's very good to be here, Sir," Marsha replied cheerfully. That was very good. A cheerful employee is a productive employee, I always say.
"So tell me, Ms. Harrison, how has Riosen Industries been treating you? Have you enjoyed the last six months working at their facilities?"
"Oh yes, Sir," Marsha replied with a pleasant smile. "Everything is very nice there. They've made me fit right in."
"You've done an excellent job from everything they've told me, Ms. Harrison," I said affably. Then, growing serious, I picked up a stack of manila folders from my otherwise uncluttered desk and stepped around to sit beside her. As we turned in our chairs to face each other, I paused dramatically and then told her, "However, certain... anomalies... arose when I audited your accounts. I've called you in today to explain them to me."
'Anomalies!' I love that word personally. To an accountant the word anomaly has the same dread as the word 'cancer' to a patient at a doctor's office. Tell some bookkeepers there are anomalies in their ledgers and they might well faint. As was planned, that's exactly the way that Marsha was reacting. She was a good girl, absolutely perfect, so far for my needs.
"I can't imagine..." Marsha trailed off, her pretty face suddenly clouding over and her brow lining with concern. I'm sure she couldn't even imagine something like this. I preferred women whose minds were uncluttered with an active imagination. Intelligence and imagination are not always inseparable and I had become quite adept at picking out intelligent women with almost no imagination whatsoever! Thankfully, such women tended to gravitate towards accounting, my own specialty.
"Let me show you some of the things I've uncovered then. I'm certain there's a reasonable explanation," I said, shaking my head slightly as though to cast doubts upon the optimism of the very words. Reaching forward, I handed Marsha the first incriminating piece of evidence.
It was a bank record showing several transfers from Riosen accounts to ones controlled by our firm in general and Marsha specifically. Such transfers could be justified on occasion; in fact I had already justified them. I had the paperwork all in place if Marsha were to call it into question. Before she had time to consider that, I showed her the second piece of information, unauthorized drafts transferring monies from the firm's accounts to Marsha's personal bank account at the same bank. "That's not my signature on the drafts, by the way, even though, as you can see, someone has very clumsily tried to forge it. Do you recognize the account number for where the money was transferred? You should Ms. Harrison, it's your own account."
"Wait, I didn't do this..." Marsha began, trying to defend herself. Rather meekly too, if I might say so.
"Before you go on, Ms. Harrison, let me show you what else I've uncovered through the help of a contact I have with the bank," I told her. I showed her checks drawn on her own account that had only very recently cleared the bank. Checks paying off her car loan, making several payments in advance for her apartment rent, and finally a rather nice check to a local jeweler. As she studied the checks, bearing what appeared to be her own signature, I rose from my seat and walked behind her.
"Mr. Jacobson, I never... I don't know what to... I've never even been to this place," she said when she could finally finish a sentence. Marsha slumped back in her chair, looking sad and miserable.
"I hope you like these pearls I picked out," I told Marsha gently, throwing her bewildered mind further into confusion. She was so stunned that she sat perfectly still as I clasped them to her neck. "They look lovely on you, my dear. Then again, they should. You spent enough of Riosen's money on them."
"Wait, I didn't..." Marsha began to protest, again. Slowly, by degrees it began to dawn on her. Of course she didn't.
The young girl stood up, looking very much like a rabbit ready to bolt. I really enjoy that in a woman, that look of vulnerability. I wasn't too concerned about her bolting, there was only one exit to the room and I positioned myself to where I was standing right by it. "We have to resolve this Marsha, one way or the other before you leave this office. If you go right now, I'll immediately call the police."
Like a wild animal caught in the open Marsha looked so defenseless and exposed. She looked almost naked before me. I knew we wouldn't be interrupted. I had sent all my office staff on important errands, and besides, all of them would know better than to interrupt me. They were all my girls, after all. All of them had taken their turns in this office and would take them again before too long.
"Mr. Jacobson, I don't understand," Marsha said guardedly, as she wrung her hands in front of her trim stomach. If she didn't, she truly was unimaginative. Most of my girls had figured out the story by now. "I didn't do any of these things, I promise you."
"Personally, I believe you," I told the frightened girl gently. "But all that really matters is what the police will believe if we were to call them. The money has been taken, it's been spent on luxuries for you, and it's been used to pay off your personal debts. It all looks very incriminating to me."
"But I didn't..." Marsha insisted. Then, suddenly becoming imaginative, she began to take off the pearl necklace. A pity, I thought; it looked lovely on her. "I'll pay it all back, Mr. Jacobson. I don't want the money, really! I do nicely on my salary, I promise."
She took off the necklace and held it out for me to take. When I refused to reach out and grab it, she placed the necklace on the edge of my desk.
