Angelica.
“This is a tough world, Angel. Don’t let what you see fool you. It’s a jungle out there. Despite civilization, men are not civil – not when it comes to sex or money. It’s always going to be survival of the strongest, and weakness in a man is a fatal flaw. I don’t know why I am who I am. All I know is that it’s who I need to be to survive and succeed. It’s the essence of me. I’ll never change. I’ll never be weak like my father, and I’ll never be emotionally dependent on another person. I don’t want to share my life – I want to control my world.”
* * *
“You’re going to be a busy young lady this morning. I hope you’re prepared,” Lucien said.
His tone filled Angelica with a sense of apprehension that should have been warning enough, but she still flinched with shock when he said with a soft smile;
“Wear the shortest skirt you own, and leave your panties on the table.”
Angelica felt a sudden giddy flush in her cheeks and her body clenched involuntarily with the first tingling spark of arousal.
“Okay…” she said slowly, and then blurted out, “Why?”
It was an overcast morning. Rain had fallen throughout the night, washing the city glistening and clean, and now grey sullen clouds lingered outside the penthouse windows.
Lucien folded his newspaper and got up from the dining table. “Because I want to show you off,” he said. “I’m going downtown to my lawyer’s office to review the Darrow Air deal. You are coming with me.”
Angelica squeezed into a short white skirt she had worn once to a tennis game and never worn again. It was tight across her bottom but still fitted snugly around her waist.
But it was so short!
Either she had grown several inches taller since her brief flirtation with tennis as a form of exercise, or the skirt had shrunk. Angelica stared at her reflection in the mirror and panicked. The line of the skirt barely covered the tops of her thighs. She tried to tug at the hem but as soon as she stood up straight again the hem rose. She clenched her fists and took a long breath.
“This is what he wanted,” she reminded herself, “so this is what he will get.”
She wore the powder-blue blouse she had bought in the hotel boutique, and while the fashion sense of her outfit was highly questionable the effect was not. She looked like a hussy.
Marvin Skinner was a short stocky man, bald headed, beady eyed, with bushy black eyebrows that gave him a villainous cast. He greeted Lucien in the reception room of his office then shook hands with Angelica, his fingers lingering longer than necessary, his palms moist, his smile lecherous as he looked her up and down like a man appreciating an exquisite piece of art. Then he turned back to Lucien and cocked one eyebrow. “Now I understand why I haven’t seen you all week.”
Skinner led Lucien and Angelica down a short passage lined with framed certificates into the board room.
The room was in the corner of the suite, with windows facing north and east. The walls were white, the carpeting pale grey. The effect was an austere almost clinical atmosphere. There was a long timber table stretching almost the full length of the room. On the wall beside the doorway was a large projector screen with a laptop on a small table in front of it.
Lucien took a seat opposite the screen and nodded to Angelica. She sat beside him and blinked in alarm when Lucien shifted his weight so that his thigh touched hers under the table. She could feel the warm resilience of him through his trousers. The contact set off tiny sparks along the smooth skin of her leg, but she made no move to pull away. He turned to her casually for a moment, noting the hectic spread of color across her face.
“Marv is going to do a slideshow presentation, going over the Darrow Air assets. I’d like your involvement,” Lucien said. Then his hand slipped under the table and lightly tugged at her skirt. “I really do want you to be open
“This is a tough world, Angel. Don’t let what you see fool you. It’s a jungle out there. Despite civilization, men are not civil – not when it comes to sex or money. It’s always going to be survival of the strongest, and weakness in a man is a fatal flaw. I don’t know why I am who I am. All I know is that it’s who I need to be to survive and succeed. It’s the essence of me. I’ll never change. I’ll never be weak like my father, and I’ll never be emotionally dependent on another person. I don’t want to share my life – I want to control my world.”
* * *
“You’re going to be a busy young lady this morning. I hope you’re prepared,” Lucien said.
His tone filled Angelica with a sense of apprehension that should have been warning enough, but she still flinched with shock when he said with a soft smile;
“Wear the shortest skirt you own, and leave your panties on the table.”
Angelica felt a sudden giddy flush in her cheeks and her body clenched involuntarily with the first tingling spark of arousal.
“Okay…” she said slowly, and then blurted out, “Why?”
It was an overcast morning. Rain had fallen throughout the night, washing the city glistening and clean, and now grey sullen clouds lingered outside the penthouse windows.
Lucien folded his newspaper and got up from the dining table. “Because I want to show you off,” he said. “I’m going downtown to my lawyer’s office to review the Darrow Air deal. You are coming with me.”
Angelica squeezed into a short white skirt she had worn once to a tennis game and never worn again. It was tight across her bottom but still fitted snugly around her waist.
But it was so short!
Either she had grown several inches taller since her brief flirtation with tennis as a form of exercise, or the skirt had shrunk. Angelica stared at her reflection in the mirror and panicked. The line of the skirt barely covered the tops of her thighs. She tried to tug at the hem but as soon as she stood up straight again the hem rose. She clenched her fists and took a long breath.
“This is what he wanted,” she reminded herself, “so this is what he will get.”
She wore the powder-blue blouse she had bought in the hotel boutique, and while the fashion sense of her outfit was highly questionable the effect was not. She looked like a hussy.
Marvin Skinner was a short stocky man, bald headed, beady eyed, with bushy black eyebrows that gave him a villainous cast. He greeted Lucien in the reception room of his office then shook hands with Angelica, his fingers lingering longer than necessary, his palms moist, his smile lecherous as he looked her up and down like a man appreciating an exquisite piece of art. Then he turned back to Lucien and cocked one eyebrow. “Now I understand why I haven’t seen you all week.”
Skinner led Lucien and Angelica down a short passage lined with framed certificates into the board room.
The room was in the corner of the suite, with windows facing north and east. The walls were white, the carpeting pale grey. The effect was an austere almost clinical atmosphere. There was a long timber table stretching almost the full length of the room. On the wall beside the doorway was a large projector screen with a laptop on a small table in front of it.
Lucien took a seat opposite the screen and nodded to Angelica. She sat beside him and blinked in alarm when Lucien shifted his weight so that his thigh touched hers under the table. She could feel the warm resilience of him through his trousers. The contact set off tiny sparks along the smooth skin of her leg, but she made no move to pull away. He turned to her casually for a moment, noting the hectic spread of color across her face.
“Marv is going to do a slideshow presentation, going over the Darrow Air assets. I’d like your involvement,” Lucien said. Then his hand slipped under the table and lightly tugged at her skirt. “I really do want you to be open
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