Aphrodite's Chosen

Steve Wilcox put his hands on the oaken desk of the attractive young woman and leaned forward to talk to her. His gaze roamed her body. She was taller than he was, at least in heels, but fortunately she was sitting and he was standing. Her hair was black, and her eyes a deep brown, with a vaguely exotic shape to them. Her skin was darker than the Irish name of "Connors" suggested. She wore an off-white silk chemise underneath her suit jacket that was sexier than the shell most of the women who worked at the accounting firm of Ferris, Johnson, and Thoms wore, but not too unprofessional.

He took a moment to imagine her naked. High, firm breasts-- 36 C, he guessed, neither too large nor too small. Long legs. He didn't have to do too much imagining. After all, he'd seen her naked, on stage. He smiled. She was going to be his, whether she liked it or not. And he would make a tidy profit in the process, which would please his patron.

"Miss Connors," he said, "We have a new project for you."

***

Kalisha Connors met the gaze of the man looming above her. As the chosen of Aphrodite, she could sense his lust. He was a man who liked to be in control. A little of that could be fun, but she felt something darker, something that hinted at more than just fun and games. Furthermore, the man was a junior partner in the firm, the same rank as her boss, the younger Mr. Johnson. "Mr. Wilcox, what can I do for you?"

"I have a new account for you," said Wilcox, moving around and sitting on the edge of her desk.

Kalisha frowned. "You'll have to talk to Mr. Johnson," she said. "I've got two accounts going right now, and they both look like they'll take a while."

Wilcox nodded. "I talked to him. You're off those now. You've been reassigned to me." He looked hawk-like, perched like that.

Kalisha hated to leave something unfinished, but she nodded. "Alright."

"Give what you have on the old accounts to the new guy-- Kenneth Smythe. He'll wrap them up for you, but you'll still get credit for them. Now you'll be working on this."

He tossed a folder on her desk. "This is the L. Ron Crossing account. Very lucrative, very important to the company. You see, you're moving up in the world. Your job is just to certify that all their books are in order, and sign the firm's name to that effect. There's a promotion in it for you. Are we clear?" "Crystal," said Kalisha.

Wilcox smiled. "Good."

L. Ron Crossing was indeed an important account, a company that had been growing by leaps and bounds in recent years. FJ&T had been with them since the beginning.She watched him go. She knew he had seen her in the strip club. Was this transfer, and this new responsibility just coincidence?

She spent an hour fixing up the old accounts, making sure the work on them was at a good point for Smythe to take over. Smythe was cute. He liked to sneak peeks at her legs when he thought she wasn't looking. Sometimes she caught him thinking about going down on her. Ever since that day at the strip club, she had been able to sense people's lustful thoughts-- a result, she was sure, of her connection with the ancient goddess of Lust -- and they had been getting clearer and clearer with practice.

"Thank you, ma'am," Smythe said, as she handed him the folders. "I'll do this for you."

Was it her imagination, or was Smythe really thinking, "I'll do anything for you?"

It took her an hour before she found the first mistake in the L. Ron Crossing books, but after that it was easy. Income was double booked. Expenses were reclassified as assets. Money was shuffled from one division to another to create the illusion of profits. The level of duplicity both fascinated and horrified her. The only break she took was to get a steaming mug of coffee, which she then largely forgot to drink.

"Miss Connors? Aren't you going for lunch?"

She looked up, unaware she had been so engrossed. It was Wilcox, who had opened her door and was looking in.

"You're very dedicated," said Wilcox with a smile. "That's why I wanted you on my team. But you need to eat now and then. It's after one."

She hesitated. "Mr. Wilcox, there's something wrong with these books."

Wilcox took a step in and let the door shut behind him. He crossed the few feet to her desk. "Now, Miss Connors, I'm sure there's nothing wrong with those books. L. Ron Crossing is a very successful, important company. A very important customer of this company, I mean."

Kalisha shook her head. "No. I mean, there's a lot of somethings wrong with these books." She opened the folder, pulled out a page. "Look here."

Wilcox took the paper out of her hand, and put it back, closing the folder again. "Miss Connors, L. Ron Crossing has a way of coming through for the people who handle their accounts, if they do a good job. We're talking more than just taking you out to dinner. What kind of car would you like to drive?"

Kalisha frowned. "I live in the city, I like to walk," she told Wilcox, pointedly.

Wilcox smiled. "On the other hand, people who don't do a good job, who find mistakes where there aren't any, or give this very important client any reason to doubt your loyalty, and so forth? Well, you could be out of a job."

Kalisha felt the blood rushing to her cheeks. "I'll tell Mr. Thoms--"

"Yes, I'm sure he'll take the word of a stripper on this. Quite persuasive. Mr. Thoms, you may know, goes to church not once but twice every Sunday. He could be said to have rather conservative views on things. You see, Miss Connors, you either play ball, and profit -- or you're going to be reading a pink slip instead of ledgers."

Kalisha fought to control herself. "I see."

Wilcox smiled again. Kalisha was beginning to hate that smile. "I'm glad we're off to such a good relationship, Miss Connors. May I call you Kalisha? I think I shall." His gaze drifted downward away from her eyes.

She caught a vision from his mind. Her, naked, kneeling in front of him, a collar on her neck. A slave. If she did the L. Ron Crossing job, he'd have even more to hold over her.

His eyes drifted upward, but not quite to her eyes. To her lips.

He's thinking about a blow job.

"Don't forget lunch, Kalisha. It's important to swallow something occasionally."

She watched him leave.

So arrogant.

The sensible thing to do was to hand over what she had, give her notice, and walk away from the accounting business for good. Stripping might not pay as well, but it was more fun, and she'd get by. But Wilcox was probably right. Old Mr. Thoms wouldn't believe her once her past was revealed, and L. Ron Crossing would keep pulling the wool over the eyes of its stockholders. And Wilcox would come out of it all just fine.

That can't be allowed to happen. Time to gather some information.

She walked to the office of Kevin Abramowicz. Kevin was a computer whiz who worked in the back. He had admin privileges on the FJ&T computers. She had caught a lot of lustful thoughts from Kevin, and she thought she could use that. She let herself into his office, and closed the door behind her, something she rarely did with male colleagues.

"What do you think of Steve Wilcox?"

Kevin looked up at her. "Wilcox? Oh, yeah, you got transferred. Wilcox is an arrogant SOB, but he's smart, real smart. Up and coming, might make senior partner. Stay on his good side and you could go far, but staying on his good side might be tough."

"What else? Any odd stories?"

Kevin shrugged. "He married a young CPA who worked here for about six months. She was a real go-getter, very ambitious, and very attractive. Never went out on dates with guys, either in or out of office. Everyone here thought she was gay, and then suddenly she and Wilcox are getting married in a week and she's handed in her resignation. It was so sudden we thought she might be pregnant, but there hasn't been a baby. She comes to company parties now and then, always dressed like a million dollars, and smiling so hard that it has to be fake. That's the oddest thing about Steve Wilcox."

"I see. Could I see their files?"

Kevin blinked. "You know I can't do that."

"Wouldn't be professional, would it?" Kalisha leaned over, knowing her chemise would drift away from her chest.

"Exactly."

"Don't you sometimes want to do unprofessional things?"

His eyes were on her chest, now, staring down her cleavage. He mumbled a reply. Kalisha knew what he wanted.

"You really like tits, don't you, Kevin. I bet the thing you like to do most with a girl is slide that cock of yours between their boobs until you come all over them, isn't it?" Kalisha took off her jacket.

Kevin nodded, slowly. "Most girls don't--"

Kalisha shook her head. "I'm not most girls. I'm a girl who wants to look at a personnel file." She started to lift the chemise over her head. She had the finest in Victoria's Secret push up bras underneath.

"Keep the bra on," he whispered, his voice hoarse. He undid his pants quickly.

She knelt on the floor next to his chair. He had a nice-looking cock, circumcised, not too wide to circle with a finger a thumb. He nestled it in her cleavage. It was long enough that Kalisha could tilt her head down and give the tip a playful lick with each upthrust. It didn't take him long before he came, white cream dribbling from her collarbone down into the valley of her breasts. She cleaned him off by taking him into her mouth.

Moments later, two files were on their way from his computer to hers, and Kalisha, dressed again, was on her way back to her office. Kevin, meanwhile, sat staring at the door, trying to make sense of just what had happened.

She skipped lunch to look at the files.

After lunch Wilcox came to her office. "Working hard?"

Kalisha quickly clicked on the mouse so Wilcox wouldn't catch her going through his file. "Um, Yeah."

Wilcox grinned. "They expect us to take some time with the L. Ron Crossing books, Kalisha. So find some things to amuse yourself. Play solitaire, if you like."

"Um, thanks, Mr. Wilcox."

"Anytime, Kalisha."

When he left, Kalisha brought up the files Kevin had sent her again. Sure enough, Cindy Wilcox, nee van Meteren, had been working on the L. Ron Crossing account when she resigned to be a happy housewife. Had Wilcox used that to blackmail her into marrying him? If so, she wasn't likely to be a very happy person.

Jail or being married to slime. Close call, but I think I'd opt for jail.

An idea formed in Kalisha's mind. She made some calls.

As expected, Wilcox came in again to check in on her before closing time.

"Keeping yourself busy?" he asked.

Kalisha forced a smile. "Oh yes. Just... checking out a few websites. You know the sort of thing." She blushed.

Wilcox's eyes narrowed with interest. "Oh, really? Why don't you tell me what sort of thing?"

Kalisha blushed some more. "You know, erotic stories and such."

"And what sort of stories do you like?"

"One's w-with, very strong men," said Kalisha. "Who really know what they want."

And who aren't assholes.

"Oh really," said Wilcox thoughtfully.

I've got him hooked now.

"I think you might be that sort of man, Mr. Wilcox. The way you took control of the situation this morning. At first I was mad about being pushed around like that, but then I found I kind of liked it."

Wilcox grinned broadly. "Ah. I think we have a long future together, Kalisha."

Kalisha smiled. "I hope so." She paused, and then her eyes lit up as if thinking of something for the first time. "Are you going to come by the club tonight?"

"I hadn't been planning on it."

"Because I'd like to... you know, do a special dance. Just for you."

Wilcox laughed. "I take it then, that we have an understanding on the L. Ron Crossing account."

"We understand each other

perfectly

, Mr. Wilcox."

"I'll be there at the 360 at eight, then. I'll look forward to your dance. If that's what you call what you do."

"Oh, I do more than dance." Kalisha winked. "The dance is just to get you warmed up."

Wilcox leered. "How 'bout a sample?"

Kalisha thought fast, "Well, Mr. Johnson said he was going to check up on me, so... maybe after dancing would be better."

Wilcox laughed. "Right you are. Brains and beauty. How delightful." He walked out.

***

At five minutes after eight Kalisha's phone rang. She was sitting in the back of a taxicab she'd paid to have idle.

"Kalisha? Wendy. He's here."

"Good," said Kalisha. Wendy was her lover, and one of the dancers at the 360 club. "Keep him there. Call me if he leaves."

"Okay! Bye!"

Kalisha handed a sheet of paper to the taxi driver. "This address."

Wilcox lived in a large house in the suburbs. The fence outside was wrought iron, with spikes; the lawn had a chemically treated uniformity to it. As Kalisha arrived a woman was getting into a black Lexus in the driveway. She was shorter than Kalisha, a peroxide blonde, and she wore a short red dress that hugged her curvy figure and bared shapely legs. The woman looked about furtively as she opened the door.

Shit.

Kalisha leaned forward. "Park her in."

"Lady, I --," the taxi driver protested.

"Park her in," insisted Kalisha. "A hundred bucks."

The taxicab pulled in behind the Lexus. The woman glanced back, startled. But rather than getting out of the car, she turned off the engine and sank into the seat, as if hoping she wouldn't be noticed.

Kalisha shoved three fifties at the driver. She swung the door open before the Taxi driver could even think of getting out to get it and walked toward the Lexus. She knocked on the window. The blonde straightened and rolled it down.

"Mrs. Wilcox?"

The woman nodded. She looked scared.

"I'm Kalisha Connors. I have the L. Ron Crossing account, and we need to talk."

The blonde paled, her skin tone nearly matching the color of her hair. "I--"

"Inside."

Mrs. Wilcox got out of the car. She walked to the house and led Kalisha inside. The taxi drove off.

Kalisha looked around. The Wilcox living room was opulent, with plush white carpeting, black leather couches, expensive Modern Art originals on the walls, and an intricate chandelier for lighting. Wilcox was making more money than she was, but either he spent it very freely or he had an extra source of income. "May I get you anything to drink, Miss Connors?" asked Mrs. Wilcox, her voice shaking a little.

"No thank you," said Kalisha. She tossed her coat casually on the couch. She wore another chemise beneath it, but not the one she wore to work. This one was black, lace-trimmed, and showed more cleavage. She patted the seat next to her.

Mrs. Wilcox eyes took in Kalisha's outfit, and hesitantly sat down. And from that one look Kalisha knew the woman was hoping that somehow the encounter would turn into sex. The rumors about Cindy's sexual orientation appeared to be correct.

***

At the 360 club, Steve Wilcox waited impatiently for Kalisha to take the stage. He enjoyed watching the other dancers, but he had passed up a chance to socialize with wealthy men to watch Kalisha dance. And money, well, money was what mattered. Money made women kneel at your feet and let you drive a fancy new car. Money could even make a woman punctual. But most importantly, Money was power, as the strange gentleman he had met over a year ago had told him.

God of wealth, the man had said he was. And occasionally of the underworld, he had added, as if those two naturally went together. When he turned a crystal wine glass into solid gold, Steve Wilcox had become a believer. And when the man, or god, had asked for Steve Wilcox to become his chosen it had been an easy choice. Having the God of wealth on his side was better than having the God of the underworld against him.

He suspected that Hades would not approve of how he had arranged his priorities tonight. He looked at his watch. Eight twenty.

The redheaded dancer he had seen before was dancing. She stopped to crouch in front of him, even though he hadn't tipped her.

"Kali's a little late," the redhead whispered. "She said she had to get a special costume."

Wilcox frowned.

The redhead winked. "I think she likes you." And then she was gone.

Maybe I should buy this whole club

, thought Wilcox, as he stared after Wendy's ass.

Then I could fire the strippers if they didn't suck my cock.

The thought made Wilcox hard, and he stayed.

***

Kalisha sidled closer to Mrs. Wilcox. "Now Cindy-- you don't mind if I call you Cindy, do you?"

Cindy shook her head.

Kalisha patted her knee. "I've been looking through the files, and it seems like you had the L. Ron Crossing account a couple years ago. And the books-- well, they've been rotten for at least three years. Does your husband know about this?"

Cindy gulped, and looked unsure of what to answer.

Yes, in other words.

The red dress Cindy wore was quite short, and Kalisha slid her hand up from the woman's knee to mid-thigh. "In fact, he's blackmailing you, isn't he?"

Cindy hesitated, then nodded.

Kalisha turned, bending towards her, her face just an inch from the small blonde."What's sex with him like, Cindy? I want to know, because, well, I think he's interested in me."

"He's... very rough. He likes -- absolute obedience," said Cindy "Did he-- did he send you?"

Kalisha smiled. "Maybe. Maybe not. Do you like it rough?" asked Kalisha.

"Sometimes," said Cindy. "Not from him, though."

Kalisha could feel the woman's breath on her lips. Kalisha slid her hand underneath Cindy's skirt, playing with the hem. "Are you attracted to women?"

Cindy nodded.

"Does your husband send many women over for you to play with?"

Cindy shook her head. "Never." Her eyes locked with Kalisha, as if trying desperately to discern what the taller woman was going to do.

Kalisha kissed her softly on the lips, just long enough to get Cindy to respond hungrily, and then pulled back. She sensed Cindy's frustration.

"You see, Cindy, your husband is trying to blackmail me, just like he blackmailed you. But I don't think he's going to let you play with me. I think he wants us both to himself. But he doesn't have the hold on me he thinks he does. I can afford to lose my job, and I've not done anything illegal, as much as he'd like me to."

Cindy blinked.

"So I'm thinking of going to the police."

Cindy's gasped. "It would ruin me," said Cindy. "They'd lock me up."

"It would ruin your husband, too."

Cindy made a face. "That would almost make it worth it."

Kalisha put an arm around Cindy's shoulder. "Why didn't you blow the whistle, yourself?"

"I was stupid. I made a mistake on another account, an innocent mistake, but I lied to cover it up. And Steve found out. He made me forge the L. Ron Crossing books, and then he made me marry him. My father's rich, he hopes to inherit."

"And he wanted your body, I bet." Kalisha traced the scooped neckline of the red dress with her finger. "I can't blame him for that."

Cindy shivered.

"But you should have stood up to him."

Cindy sighed. "I'm not that kind of woman, Kalisha. Steve found out that, too. He found about about my lovers. I like to be controlled. At least in bed. Not like this, but -- well, I have to work at standing up for myself." She looked at Kalisha. "Are you going to turn us in? You are, aren't you? Or did you just come to blackmail me? I'd make love to you willingly, you don't have to—"

Kalisha put a finger to Cindy's lips, hushing her. "I know, dear. I know. You can't fight back, because he knows you'd take the fall, too. But I can do it for you. I can make him believe I don't care about either of you. Even if we both know that's a lie."'

Cindy smiled a little.

"We can use your submissive inclination to our advantage," said Kalisha.