BUSINESS DEALS: Part 2

My boss is not the most sympathetic guy on the planet, and he certainly showed his true colors ten days ago. He made me feel like a petulant child when I burst into his office to complain about my schedule.

�Grow up, Jayne!� he yelled in response to my grievance. �It�s only a business meeting, for God�s sake!�

�Please, James!� I moaned. �Please don�t make me meet that woman again. She and I really don�t hit it off.�

James used his handkerchief to dab sweat from his bald head. He�s a big, overweight slob in his late forties who bullies his staff mercilessly, with no exceptions. The secretaries on the reception desk feel the lash of his temper every day, but not even senior managers like myself are given the respect we deserve.

�For fuck�s sake, Jayne!� he growled, rolling his eyes in despair. �Last year your meeting went so well that you won us a megabucks contract from the Sanchez Corporation. So why don�t you want to meet Diana this time?�

I hesitated, biting my lip and staring at the carpeted floor. No way was I about to tell my boss the truth about my meeting with Diana Sanchez twelve months ago. The whole thing was so embarrassing that not even my husband knows what really happened.

�Well?� James demanded impatiently. �What�s the problem?�

�The problem is that awful woman,� I explained. �She�s an arrogant South American bitch who thinks she can walk over everybody. I can�t do business with someone like that.�

James stared intently at me for a while, as though he guessed that there was more to my story than I was willing to tell. His eyes narrowed and a sly grin curled across his mouth.

�Does it bother you that she�s a dyke?� he said.

�How did you know about her lesbianism?� I answered, astonished that he was aware of Diana�s sexual orientation. �Have you spoken to her about her private life?�

James chuckled, leaning forward with his burly elbows resting on his desk. �Of course not!� But she emailed me yesterday to ask about hotel accommodation for her special friend, whom she calls Francesca. So, I figured they might be a lesbian couple. And it seems you know something about that already.�

I almost blurted it all out, the whole sordid tale. But how would James react to it?� I reckon he would probably despise me for what I�d done with Diana, even though I emerged from the experience clutching a million-dollar contract in my trembling hand. Yes, I came out of that meeting bereft of my dignity, shorn of my self-respect and stripped of my panties, but with a hefty contract that secured my instant promotion to the senior management team.

�I really don�t wish to meet her again,� I said calmly. �Can�t you send someone else instead?�

�Diana has specifically asked for you,� he replied gruffly. �She refuses to negotiate the contract�s renewal with anybody else, so I�m afraid you have no choice.�

With a heavy sigh I accepted defeat and tried to steel myself for the ordeal. �When is the meeting?� I inquired.

�Next Thursday,� he answered. �At nine-thirty.�

�No way! I�m scheduled to meet the Chinese delegation at ten o�clock.�

�I�ve already cancelled it,� said James. �Helen Thorpe will give them a tour of the city and you can join them the following day. She�s very young for the job, I know, but she�s a bright kid and those Chinese guys will love her. Anyway, Diana Sanchez flies in on Wednesday night and wants an early meeting on Thursday, so you�d better start preparing the paperwork.�

�And the venue?�

�The Avery Hotel. I�ve booked a suite for Diana and her friend.�

�I�m not happy about this,� I said. �Not happy at all.�

James pointed to a framed photograph on the wall behind his desk. It showed a shiny red Maserati with his initials on the licence plate.

�Success isn�t about happiness,� he said. �But if it was, then happiness would be an Italian sports car.� He gave an exaggerated sigh, shaking his head as he stared at the picture.

I felt a curious hot flush all over my skin. �Are you saying I get a Maserati if I clinch the contract?�

�Yes,� James replied. �In any color you want.�

�What about the BMW?� I inquired.

�Keep it,� he answered. �It might be useful for Saturday shopping trips.�

My fascination with powerful cars is something of a joke around the company and James grinned when he saw my eyes twinkling. But there�s more to life than money, and I still had my dignity to consider.

�OK, I�ll do it,� I said. �But if everything goes badly, don�t blame me if we lose the deal. A meeting with Diana is no tea-party, James. It�s a difficult thing to handle.�

�It�s business,� he said, turning his back on me to take a call on his cellphone.

Feeling pretty depressed, despite the potential reward, I spun on my heels and stormed out of the room, returning to my office and telling my secretary to fetch three aspirin and a double espresso.

**********

Why do some weeks pass so quickly?� The only things I remember about that weekend are the rain on the windows and the black cloud shrouding my heart. My husband begged to know why I prowled around the house with such a sorrowful expression. He tried to cheer me up by promising to take me to Paris for my twenty-fifth birthday, but the thought of my meeting with Diana so crushed my spirit that I couldn�t look forward to anything. I lied to my husband, telling him that stress at work was making me tired and grumpy. But deep in my heart I felt a creeping dread that disturbed my sleep every night until Thursday finally dawned.

**********

�Ah, Jayne! Jayne! How wonderful to see you again!�

Diana welcomed me into her hotel suite like we were best buddies from our schooldays, eagerly grabbing my hand and leading me to the leather sofa. She looked as immaculate as when we first met a year ago, her tanned skin so smooth and her black hair as glossy as ever, though now she wore casual clothes: blue jeans and a white T-shirt. Her feet were bare but she wore full make-up and her hair was tied back in that familiar tight ponytail. She looked less like a woman in her mid-thirties and more like a breathless college girl.

I sat on the sofa and straightened the skirt and jacket of my suit, putting my laptop on the coffee table.

�Look, Diana,� I said sternly, meeting her excited stare as she sat beside me. �Let�s get something straight before we begin our discussions. There�ll be no repeat of last year�s incident. Do I make myself clear?�

�You mean no sexy fun?� she asked, her dark eyes narrowing mischievously.

I nodded, averting my gaze and taking a deep breath. My heart was already pounding with mingled fear and rage, for I could see from Diana�s expression that some sleazy scheme was turning in her mind.

�As you wish,� she replied, to my complete surprise.

In the silence that followed I switched on my laptop and called up a database of financial figures, keeping my eyes fixed on the screen while desperately hoping that Diana meant what she had just said. All my hopes evaporated when she spoke again.

�I do not feel that we can do business together anymore,� she said softly, her heavy accent masking her eloquent mastery of the English language. �I fear that I have flown all the way from Buenos Aires in vain.�

�We can still conduct our business,� I replied. �But I will not allow you to touch me again, nor will I participate in your depraved games.�

Diana sighed, casting a sly grin when I looked at her. �Maybe we should terminate this meeting before it begins?� she suggested. �Perhaps your boss will provide a better negotiator?� Someone more cooperative, yes?�

She produced a sheet of paper and flung it onto the table. It was a printout from our company�s website, a full-color photo of my ambitious young colleague Helen Thorpe.

I shook my head and scoffed at the suggestion. �My boss won�t send Helen to negotiate this contract. She�s only nineteen, with no experience of a major deal.�

Diana leaned forward to whisper in my ear. �He already agreed to it, less than an hour ago. I phoned him, you see, to warn him that he must send somebody else if you come here with a bad attitude. Straightaway he suggested this Helen and told me she is a very intelligent girl, a girl who knows how to talk business � how do you say it? � a wheeze kid?�

�A whizzkid,� I corrected, though my heart sank to my shoes. I stared at Helen�s smiling face in the picture, seeing the burning ambition in her lovely bright eyes but also the innocence that lay behind them.

�She�s so pretty!� Diana observed. �Pale-skinned, just like you, and with a little ponytail, just like yours. But she�s young and fresh and her hair is blonde, whereas you are just a shabby boring brunette.�

�You bitch!� I hissed, giving her an angry glance.

Diana laughed, leaning back to stretch her denim-clad legs and curl her manicured toes. Then she feigned a serious expression, her eyebrows frowning as she tapped her red lips with a long forefinger.

�Yes, my dull darling Jayne! Maybe I should ask your boss to send this little blonde to me?� The contract with my family�s corporation is very precious to him, I think, so he�ll tell her to make sure I sign the paper. And what should I make her do, what task must this sweet girl perform, to earn my signature?�

�Leave her out of this!� I snarled. �She�s just a kid.�

Diana chuckled so smugly that I felt an urge to slap her face, but I love my career too much to act so rashly. Still, I felt that I needed to do something to protect young Helen from this devious predator. But what should I do?� The easy option would have been to get up and leave, extricating myself from the dilemma and thereby avoiding a repeat of last year�s hideous experience. It would mean condemning Helen to Diana�s lusts, but at least I�d be safe. On the other hand, it would mean that I�d emerge from the meeting without securing a deal, and without getting the keys to a gleaming new car.

Life is full of traps and perilous situations, where the victim has few choices, or no choice at all. So, like a virgin laying herself naked on the altar of a savage god, I offered my dignity in exchange for my colleague�s innocence. Reluctantly, yes, but willingly, for I would not let a teenager like Helen fall into the perverted lusts of Diana Sanchez. I tried to imagine myself as a holy martyr, like Joan of Arc, walking with a pure unselfish heart to some dreadful doom. For a brief moment, behind this image of honor and sacrifice, I saw a bright red Maserati racing along the midnight highway, but I convinced myself that it wasn�t a factor in my decision.

�Please leave Helen out of this,� I repeated, though in a softer tone than before. �I�ll be your negotiator, just as I was a year ago.�

Watching a triumphant smile crawl slowly across Diana�s face made me feel wretched and utterly alone, like a forgotten slave whose existence is meaningless.

�Frankie!� she called, without turning her head. �Come here!�

I had not previously met Diana�s Brazilian lover, nor did I know what to expect. But I gaped in surprise when Frankie appeared in a doorway at the rear of the suite, for I guess I must have been expecting a hard-faced butch dyke with tattoos and piercings. Instead, a suntanned vision of serenity and beauty glided into the room, walking like a ballerina or a gazelle, her bare feet hardly treading the carpet. She was around my age but taller, taller even than Diana, and her slender athletic body looked panther-like in a black T-shirt and matching skin-tight leggings. Her bra-less breasts bulged under the T-shirt like melons, their size seeming overly large for such a sleek and graceful woman. Her black hair was cropped very short, much shorter than mine, and her eyes were an unusually pale green.

�This is my Francesca,� said Diana, gazing fondly at her companion. �This is my beloved Frankie, whom I rescued from a life of cruel captivity.�

�She was in jail?� I ventured disinterestedly, shrugging Diana�s hand off my shoulder.

Frankie grinned, baring the most perfect white teeth I�ve ever seen, but Diana slapped my exposed knee and giggled like a schoolgirl.

�Jail? No, no!� she chortled. �Not jail, not prison. Convento. How you say it here?�

�A convent?� I said. �You mean she was a nun?�

�Novicia,� said Frankie, nodding as she smiled down at me.

�Speak English!� Diana snapped, with a vehemence that startled me. The authority in her voice seemed to make Frankie shrink, and I perceived then that their relationship was unequal.

Diana sighed and shook her head, signalling with one finger that Frankie should kneel on the carpet in front of the sofa. A sudden unwitting terror rose in my belly and began to pound in my head, making me feel dizzy. Butterfly wings fluttered in my belly and I realized that I needed to pee, but I decided to hold out until I could get away from the hotel.

�Frankie speaks many languages,� said Diana, lifting my ponytail to caress the back of my neck as I hunched forward. �But sometimes she forgets her manners, and then I have to punish her.�

�I don�t want to hear about it,� I replied.

�Stand up!� Diana commanded, and I obeyed like a true submissive. I felt angry with myself for obeying her orders, but I had no other choice. I knew with absolute certainty that what was to come would be worse than the previous year�s ordeal.

�Remind me, Jayne,� she continued. �What did I take from you after our first meeting?�

�My underwear,� I replied, the memory bringing a flush of humiliation to my cheeks.

�Your panties, yes,� she added. �Your white cotton panties, that I took back to Argentina as a souvenir of our sexy fun. And can you guess what happened to them?�

I shrugged, trying to appear unconcerned, though my brain simmered with a strange curiosity. OK, so what the hell had this crazy dyke done with my underwear?

Frankie looked up and gave me a big friendly smile. �I taste your juices, Miss Jayne. I lick your nice panties and think of your clitty and your sexy ass!�

�Fuck!� I hissed, gritting my teeth as I glared sidelong at Diana. �You disgusting bitches!�

Diana laughed again, obviously enjoying my distress. �Oh, yes!� We had some fun with your cute panties. But Frankie felt rather cheated, I think, because she never saw you wearing them and so had to be content with my detailed description of your body.�

I gazed down at the Brazilian woman kneeling at my feet and watched in stunned horror as her hands disappeared under my skirt. She stared up at me, licking her teeth as her hidden fingers crawled slowly around my thighs to touch my ass. I tensed when she clasped my buttocks, hating the sensation of her hands squeezing my flesh through my underwear. Although my skirt still concealed my modesty I already felt naked and utterly violated. From the sofa I heard Diana�s cruel sniggering, but I steeled myself to refrain from looking at her.

�Are you wearing white panties, Jayne?� she inquired, knowing that the question would irritate me. Then, when I shook my head, she added: �Tell me the color?�

�Blue,� I answered, rolling my eyes at the ceiling.

My response seemed to have a strange effect on Frankie, who began purring like a cat and muttering words I could not understand. She stopped squeezing my ass and instead used her fingertips to trace the lace trim of my underwear over the curve of my buttocks.

�Blue is Frankie�s favorite color!� Diana announced. �And I can see from the movement of her fingers under your skirt that you�re not wearing one of those awful thongs. You obviously remembered how much I hate them.�

�I don�t dress to satisfy your preferences,� I retorted.

At that moment, Frankie unzipped my skirt and pulled it down to my ankles. Her sharp slap on my left thigh told me to step out of the skirt and my black shoes, which I duly did without protest.

�Take off your shirt,� Diana ordered.

Meekly I obeyed her command, letting my white blouse fall to the floor. I already felt more degraded than at any point during last year�s nightmare. When Frankie�s right hand gently pressed my crotch I actually whimpered, much to Diana�s amusement.

�Poor Jayne!� she mocked. �Can�t you afford to buy a matching underwear set?� In my country, no woman would allow herself to be seen in a white lace bra and blue cotton panties. I must ask your boss to increase your wages!�

�Fuck you!� I snarled.

�Legs wider,� said Frankie, patting my thighs until I parted them slightly. Her right hand slipped between them to cup my gusset, her palm pressing my crotch while her fingertips curled into the cleft of my buttocks. With her forefinger she pushed the material of my underwear deep inside the cleft, rubbing the cotton against my asshole until I stood squirming in discomfort. At the same time she used the heel of her hand to feel the shape of my vagina through the panties.

�Too sexy,� she whispered, staring up at me with a strange eager glint in her green eyes. �Like an English schoolgirl.�

�Ah, Francesca!� said Diana. �Perhaps I should tell Jayne about your fascination with this country�s school uniforms?�

Frankie grinned, nodding vigorously. �All schoolgirls in England are made to wear blue panties. This is true, yes?�

Trying to block out the sensation of her touch, I gritted my teeth and forced myself to respond. �You�ve been told a pack of lies, convent girl,� I replied. �Your image is forty years out of date.�

�Don�t spoil my Frankie�s fun!� Diana snapped, with surprising vehemence. �Let her keep this little fantasy!�

To my annoyance she reached over to slap my buttocks, smacking my ass so hard that I yelled out. That was one slap too far, and I spun around quickly with my fists clenched, wishing I had the courage to throw a punch at her jaw. But Frankie grabbed my legs, knocking me off balance and pulling me to the floor. There I lay on my back, struggling vainly while she pinned my arms to the carpet, the weight of her body preventing me from arching my spine or kicking her off. Her strength was astounding and rendered me completely helpless. I began to panic, knowing that she could easily do whatever she wanted with me.

�Basta!� growled Diana, and Frankie released me immediately.

I sat up, rubbing my sore wrists, still panting with fear and exertion. Frankie knelt beside me and put her arm around my trembling shoulders. I figured she was trying to comfort me until I realised that her fingers were unhooking my bra. Diana slipped off the sofa and crawled over to kneel at my feet.

�Lie down, chiquita,� she whispered, reaching out to caress my toes.

With a plaintive sob I lay back, allowing Frankie to remove the bra. It was pointless to cover my bare breasts, so I just put my arms at my sides and tried to breathe calmly, my eyes fixed on the ceiling as I waited for the inevitable.

Diana was first, of course, spreading my legs and crouching like a tigress between them. I closed my eyes, feeling her hair and ears brushing my inner thighs as she manoeuvred her head towards my crotch. Her hands slithered over my underwear, stroking my pubic hair through the thin blue material, before settling on my hips.

I had almost forgotten the horrible sensation of a woman�s mouth on my vagina. The barrier of my panties offered a little protection, but only for a few moments, the gusset soon becoming soaked with Diana�s saliva. Her tongue slithered feverishly up and down my slit, the wet cotton making my flesh feel every touch as keenly as if I was naked.

I heard Frankie shifting position and moving about but I had no idea what she was doing. It was only when I felt her hot breath on my breasts that I opened my eyes and saw that she had stripped. Wearing nothing but skimpy black panties she crouched over me and began licking my nipples, an activity that usually gets me incredibly aroused. But Frankie isn�t my husband, and I hold no secret desires for women, so the whole thing soon became a big problem. I showed my discomfort and distress by remaining tense and breathless, arching my back and squirming on the carpet. Neither of my tormentors displayed any concern for my feelings and it was obvious that they took sadistic delight in molesting me.

Eventually they stopped, after Diana gave her lover some kind of signal. They exchanged a few words in Spanish, or maybe in Portuguese, before Frankie rolled onto her back to lie beside me. Her magnificent breasts were so firm that they barely jiggled as she moved, and I wondered if they were truly natural. She turned her face towards mine and our eyes met, though I refused to return her smile. Deep in a dark corner of my brain I nurtured a consuming urge to spit at her, to give her a little of the humiliation I was feeling, but to my shame I was too afraid to do anything.

Like a rag-doll I allowed myself to be pulled around by Diana, who forced me to crouch on my knees between Frankie�s long legs, my face barely an inch from her crotch. A small circular patch of dampness patterned the gusset of her black panties, presenting itself to my outstretched tongue like a miniature target. Diana complimented my wisdom in knowing what I was required to do before the command was given, but I drew no comfort from my compliance. My sole motivation was to perform the necessary tasks as quickly as possible and to get the hell out of that room.

Licking the Brazilian girl was a whole lot easier than doing the same to Diana the previous year. Frankie�s cunt smelled clean and fragrant, and her underwear held none of the sweaty stink that Diana had once forced upon me. With the tip of my tongue pushing against the stretchy black material I traced the outline of what I guessed was a completely shaven vagina. Frankie immediately got very excited, her sleek brown body writhing on the floor while softly whispered words hissed from her half-open mouth.

This part of my ordeal would have been quite bearable had Diana not chosen to intervene. She knelt behind me, grinding her hips against my crouching ass before leaning over to press her breasts on my back. Like her lover, she was now almost naked, and her nipples felt incredibly hard as they brushed my skin. The exposed flesh of my buttocks felt the gentle abrasion of her lace panties and I prayed that she would do no more than rub against me, but to my dismay she put her hand under my ass and began stroking my vagina through my underwear.

When Frankie eventually climaxed I figured that I might be within sight of making an escape. Just a quick bout of oral sex with Diana, I thought, and I�d be putting on my business suit. Never in my life have I been so mistaken!

While Frankie lay twitching in the throes of orgasm I withdrew my mouth from her crotch and tried to crawl away, feeling a sudden unstoppable tingling in my bladder. But Diana grabbed me firmly around the waist and hauled me back, much to my annoyance.

�Bitch! Let me go!� I yelled. �I need to pee, for fuck�s sake!�

�

�You go nowhere, Jayne!� she replied. �You stay here and do as I say.�

�Don�t you understand?� I retorted, trying to struggle free. �My bladder is almost bursting!�

To my utter horror, Diana still refused to let go, and my bladder really was ready to pop. The bathroom was only five or six yards away and I could see the toilet through the half-open door. In my exertion to break loose I released an involuntary dribble and had to strain to keep the rest from gushing out. The last thing my career needed was a hefty bill for ruining the carpet in a high-class hotel.

�Stop it, Diana!� I pleaded desperately. �Please let me use the bathroom!�

Frankie suddenly sat up, wiping sweat from her forehead. �Toallas?� she whispered, to which Diana gave a quick nod.

Puzzled, I watched the Brazilian rise up and go to a corner of the room, where she rummaged in a pile of suitcases. Wearing a big grin she returned with three green beach towels which she laid out on the floor, folding each towel in half to make a kind of thick cushion.

�See, Jayne!� said Diana triumphantly. �Frankie makes a toilet especially for you!�

My composure, that I had tried so hard to keep intact, collapsed like a stack of cards. A huge sob welled in my throat and came out in a long whimper, while tears welled behind my eyes. I still can�t believe how those two evil dykes just grinned at each other as I crawled aside to kneel on the heap of green towels. But I had no intention of giving them the satisfaction of seeing me weep, so I sniffed back the tears and took a deep breath.

Diana and Frankie lay on their bellies next to each other, their elbows on the carpet with their faces cupped in their hands. Both of them smiled and smirked as they eagerly awaited the most degrading moment of my entire life. I saw their toes stroking each other�s feet, and their buttocks jiggling as their hips touched. Diana�s lace panties were scarlet and black, like a prostitute�s underwear, but I reckon they were of Italian origin and she probably paid two hundred dollars for the privilege of wearing them. No such expensive stuff for Frankie, whose plain black briefs were as cheap as my blue ones, but they fitted snugly on her firm round ass and looked twice as classy as Diana�s slut-pants.

Gazing at the Brazilian girl�s body I noticed some strange marks on her back, a pattern of narrow pink stripes that criss-crossed her smooth brown skin. To my horror I realized that they were scars from a brutal whipping, and I recalled Diana�s earlier comment about how she sometimes punishes Frankie. Only then did the true extent of the depravity of these weird dykes start to become clear. Even now, as I sit in the pleasant surroundings of my office, it scares me to think that I was in the clutches of such people.

Diana reached out with her right hand and put it between my thighs, cupping my crotch in her palm and forcing me to kneel upright. Frankie did likewise, worming her hand next to Diana�s and making me splay my knees even wider to accommodate all the fingers groping under my gusset. The touching made my vagina twitch in spasm, which in turn put pressure on my aching bladder. Everything suddenly became too painful and I could no longer control my muscles. With a groan of relief rather than of distress, I released my bladder, trying to ignore the cackles of delight from my two depraved captors.

Not since age three or four had I pissed my panties and it felt totally weird and immeasurably degrading. With a kind of grim fascination I looked down and watched pale urine bubbling through the blue cotton and spilling over my thighs to soak into the towels. Diana and Frankie stared at my crotch like a couple of transfixed rabbits, their eyes wide with glee and their mouths half-open. Through the sodden material of my gusset I could feel their fingers wriggling in the torrent of my pee, the warm liquid trickling down their forearms.

�Beautiful! Beautiful!� hissed Diana, shaking her head and sighing wistfully as though she was gazing at a rare piece of art.

�Oh my God,� I muttered, watching the last trickle of piss and seeing the resultant mess. My knees squelched in a big dark patch of moisture that I felt sure had soaked through the towels and down to the carpet. The whole front of my blue panties was completely drenched and still oozed a few stray droplets. My thighs, too, were wet, and so were the hands of Diana and Frankie. To my complete disgust the latter was actually licking her fingers!

I took a deep breath, avoiding eye contact with the two Latinas as I hauled myself to my feet. Still lying flat, both women stared up at me in silence as I stepped out of my dripping underwear and flung it aside. I knew Diana would want to keep the panties as a trophy and I had no energy to argue the issue. All I wanted to do was to get out of there as fast as possible. At that precise moment I didn�t even give a damn about the contract.

�Your husband,� said Frankie, her long eyelashes flickering as she watched me gather my clothes. �He is a very lucky man, for you are so pretty. I hope he makes you happy in bed.�

I nodded, but made a point of not meeting her gaze. �We make each other happy,� I replied. �But that�s no business of yours.�

�Ah, business!� said Diana, rising up onto her knees and staring at me with half-closed eyes. Her left hand was thrust down the front of her underwear, no doubt in the perverse hope that I�d make some comment about it. �Time to talk business, yes?� she added.

I shrugged nonchalantly while buttoning my blouse. �After today, Diana, I reckon you owe me ten years of contract renewals. And you�d better sign quickly, because I�m out of here in two minutes.�

With a merry chuckle, Diana crawled over to a document wallet on the sofa and produced a bundle of papers, the final sheet of which she scrawled upon with a gold and silver inkpen. Then she slumped on the floor, half-sitting, half lay on her side, tapping the pen against her immaculate white teeth. Even in that sprawling posture she looked elegant and glamorous, her perfect suntanned breasts glistening where beads of sweat trickled down from her chest. With her red lace panties and smooth olive-brown skin she looked like the chief slut of a sultan�s harem in some exotic Arabian kingdom.

I snatched the contract off the sofa and shoved it in my satchel, together with my laptop. The fact that I had on a bra and shirt but nothing else was of no concern to me at that moment. In my own mind I deemed the sexual atmosphere to be extinguished, so now I was just one part of a trio of half-naked women, and I tried to tell myself that it was no different to being in the girls� locker room at the gym.

�Next year you can get somebody else to negotiate with,� I announced in a stern tone, zipping my skirt quickly. I felt pleased that my voice spoke clearly and without any hint of my earlier distress.

�Even the lovely Helen?� Diana inquired, raising her eyebrows.

�Yes. Even Helen,� I answered, though in truth I had no intention of letting those two witches anywhere near my young colleague. �So next year, Senora Sanchez, I expect to have no contact with you when you come to England. Is that clear?�

�Of course,� Diana replied.�

After stepping into my shoes and putting on my jacket I headed towards the door. Bizarrely, the two dykes ignored me like I was invisible and began kissing each other hungrily, kneeling on the floor in a sweaty embrace and making various slavering sounds. Giving them one final glance I turned the doorknob and slipped quickly out of the room. Behind me as the door softly closed I heard a flurry of coarse laughter, which made me so angry that I almost charged back into the suite with fists flailing. But no, I said to myself, the job was done and the deal was struck, so there was no going back. The number one priority was to get home quick and take a long bath, not only to wash my body clean of urine but also to purge it of every trace of those bitches.

Walking briskly, as though marching from one high-powered meeting to the next, I passed through a maze of stairs and corridors and so eventually left the hotel. Stepping out into the street felt as invigorating as an escape from a medieval prison.�

**********

That was last week and it already seems like a bad dream, or an event that happened to somebody else. It�s amazing how even the biggest anxieties seem small and insignificant when you�re behind the wheel of a Maserati.� OK, so I surrendered my principles again and got myself into a situation so degrading that the memory of it makes me feel dirty. But I saved Helen Thorpe from a session of forced lesbian sex, and I hooked the company into another year of lucrative business with the Sanchez Corporation. I guess I�m tougher than I look. Tough enough, for instance, to survive anything this job throws at me. And I don�t reckon anybody will deny that trading blue cotton panties for a red sports car is a pretty good deal.

THE END

Copyright � 2004 Jenny Kay

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