Closed for KazMarsh
My phone trilled, so I slapped it to speakerphone mode. “Yes?”
"Your 5 o'clock is here, Mr. Trask."
"Thank you, Colleen. Show her back, please."
I leaned back into my well-worn leather chair. A few moments later, my secretary’s standard three knocks rattled against at the door. When they came, I knock at my door. After a moment, the door opened just wide enough for Colleen's brunette curls and big doe eyes to glance in. "Mr. Trask?"
I motioned for her to come in. She swung the door wide and stepped aside to let my guest inside. At my height, most women outside the WNBA seem short, but even Colleen’s 5’6” frame seemed tall next to her diminutive companion.
"Miss Daniels, do come in," I said with a broad smile. "Colleen, it's after 5 and I don't expect I'll need anything else. You can leave for the day."
Colleen's curls bobbed. "Yes, Mr. Trask." The door shut behind her.
Lilly Daniels gave me a polite smile and strode towards one of the comfortable chairs in front of my oak desk. She moved with the grace of a dancer, which was not unexpected - she was a dancer. Or more accurately, she used to be.
Lilly was the eldest daughter of a colleague, Mark Daniels. Personally, I thought the man an annoying boy scout, but professional protocol required a certain feigning of friendship. With Mark, that required pretending to give a damn about his kids.
Admittedly, that'd been somewhat easier with Lilly. Even as young teen, she'd been strikingly beautiful. Plus, her practice of ballet meant I often got to see her petite frame clad in little more than a form-fitting leotard. Watching her spin and leap her lean body had given me many a carnal thought.
I was having a cascade of such thoughts now, but they were a bit more centered high on her chest. Little Lilly Daniels sported perhaps the finest rack I'd ever seen. The immense mounds were nearly so firm and spherical as to suspect plastic surgery, but I knew better. I'd seen them gradually develop over the years from the barest little A-cups to now a size you couldn't find at Victoria's Secret.
Tragically, her luscious breasts had killed Lilly's dancing career. Ostensibly it's because carrying that much weight on her chest interferes with speed and grace, though she seemed as adept on her feet as ever. I wondered if perhaps the real reason was jealousy from her nearly flat-chested fellow dancers.
Consequently, rather than pursue Julliard, she went to school for business and followed after her father. She had just recently started an internship with the company. Mark wanted no appearance of nepotism, so I'd made sure she was assigned to my division.
I gave her an appraising glance. I gave myself even odds as to whether she might reciprocate my physical admiration. Though I was more than twice her age, I was still nearly as fit and trim as I'd been in my own college days. Combine my looks with the wealth and social status of a powerful executive and I made an attractive package. However, women her size sometimes didn't care for men of my height. Plus, with a body like hers, she no do had plenty of attention from boys (and probably girls) her own age. Fortunately, her preferences soon wouldn't matter.
I waited for Lilly to sit down in the chair opposite my desk before I spoke. "Miss Daniels, I am sure you are confused as to why I have called you here, so let me get straight to it. I despise your father, Mark.”
“To be quite direct, Miss Daniels,” I continued, “your father is a pompous windbag who loves the sound of his own voice. He was born with a silver spoon in his mouth and has been pampered his whole life. That fancy Ivy League degree is no substitute for experience. Mark shouldn’t have an executive’s position, but the Board of Directors got him hired anyway because his granddaddy plays golf with half of them. He's in over his head, but he’s got his head so far up his ass he hasn’t a fucking clue how close to the edge he’s walking. He's an arrogant little son of a bitch and I'd very much like to see him fall on his ass."
I held up a manila envelope and slid it across the desk to her. "That's a copy of documentation we're required by federal law to submit every quarter to the EPA certifying our compliance with a few dozen environmental regulations. For the past three years that's been Mark's job to complete, so you'll find his signature at the bottom of every one attesting to their accuracy. The highlighted portions are where I've identified that he has also been misreporting certain information.
"Now personally I figure that he did it because your father is an arrogant Ivy League prick who couldn't find his way across the factory floor with a map. But the EPA and DoJ aren't going to give a fuck whether he's a moron; when they catch wind of this, they're going to call it falsification of data, failure to report, and fraud. That means millions in fines to the company and maybe a short stint in federal prison for Mark.”
"Now the EPA office that oversees these reports is nearly as clueless as your father, so the odds are next to zero that they ever notice this shit on their own. They get a thousand of these damn reports every quarter because thirty years ago some Massachusetts liberal got up in arms about Chesapeake clams or some nonsense and pushed through a bill mandating every manufacturer handling any of a few dozen chemicals file these damn reports. I bet they all get stuck in giant file cabinet and forgotten about as soon as they arrive.
I grinned maliciously. “But, if I place an anonymous call to them and tip them onto this, I guarantee some eager beaver looking to move up the ranks will latch onto this like a bulldog. Inside a week we're going to have government investigators all over the place and your father will be well and truly fucked.”
The leather in my chair creaked as I leaned back. "So you must be asking yourself why I’m not having this conversation with Mark. Tell him to quit or else.” I shrugged. “Quite simply, I don’t think Mark is smart enough to realize how fucked he is. He’s an aggressive, competitive prick and I know he hates my guts, so I figure he’ll probably try to take me on rather than back down. So if I can’t count on him to tuck his tail between his legs and go, then I’m just making him even more of a pain in my ass than he already is.
I leaned forward and pointed a thick forefinger at her. “But you, Miss Daniels, you’re practical. You can see that if your father were to lose his job and do 18 months in minimum security, your family takes it in the teeth. The house, the cars, your tuition, your sister's private school - I'm betting your mom's income as trophy wife and homemaker don't cover that. Just imagine having to sell your house and move out of that fancy neighborhood while all your friends whisper behind your back about your father, the felon. You might have to transfer to some cheap state school instead of that fancy university. Your Mom, your sister, you - all the local laughing stock. I bet that would just be unbearable.” I grinned mightily as I saw the horror of such public shame sink in.
“So I trust, Miss Daniels, that you are pragmatic. Moreover, you’ve got something that Richard can’t offer me. You.” I let my eyes glide back over her body to further convey my meaning.
"So here's my proposal: I'm going to hold onto this information and next year, Mark is past the statute of limitations. Your family lives happily ever after.
“But while that year is running out, you become my mistress. You keep my libido satisfied, you get your dream life. You don't, I make that phone call, and that shiny happy future goes bye-bye.
"What is it going to be, Miss Daniels?"
My phone trilled, so I slapped it to speakerphone mode. “Yes?”
"Your 5 o'clock is here, Mr. Trask."
"Thank you, Colleen. Show her back, please."
I leaned back into my well-worn leather chair. A few moments later, my secretary’s standard three knocks rattled against at the door. When they came, I knock at my door. After a moment, the door opened just wide enough for Colleen's brunette curls and big doe eyes to glance in. "Mr. Trask?"
I motioned for her to come in. She swung the door wide and stepped aside to let my guest inside. At my height, most women outside the WNBA seem short, but even Colleen’s 5’6” frame seemed tall next to her diminutive companion.
"Miss Daniels, do come in," I said with a broad smile. "Colleen, it's after 5 and I don't expect I'll need anything else. You can leave for the day."
Colleen's curls bobbed. "Yes, Mr. Trask." The door shut behind her.
Lilly Daniels gave me a polite smile and strode towards one of the comfortable chairs in front of my oak desk. She moved with the grace of a dancer, which was not unexpected - she was a dancer. Or more accurately, she used to be.
Lilly was the eldest daughter of a colleague, Mark Daniels. Personally, I thought the man an annoying boy scout, but professional protocol required a certain feigning of friendship. With Mark, that required pretending to give a damn about his kids.
Admittedly, that'd been somewhat easier with Lilly. Even as young teen, she'd been strikingly beautiful. Plus, her practice of ballet meant I often got to see her petite frame clad in little more than a form-fitting leotard. Watching her spin and leap her lean body had given me many a carnal thought.
I was having a cascade of such thoughts now, but they were a bit more centered high on her chest. Little Lilly Daniels sported perhaps the finest rack I'd ever seen. The immense mounds were nearly so firm and spherical as to suspect plastic surgery, but I knew better. I'd seen them gradually develop over the years from the barest little A-cups to now a size you couldn't find at Victoria's Secret.
Tragically, her luscious breasts had killed Lilly's dancing career. Ostensibly it's because carrying that much weight on her chest interferes with speed and grace, though she seemed as adept on her feet as ever. I wondered if perhaps the real reason was jealousy from her nearly flat-chested fellow dancers.
Consequently, rather than pursue Julliard, she went to school for business and followed after her father. She had just recently started an internship with the company. Mark wanted no appearance of nepotism, so I'd made sure she was assigned to my division.
I gave her an appraising glance. I gave myself even odds as to whether she might reciprocate my physical admiration. Though I was more than twice her age, I was still nearly as fit and trim as I'd been in my own college days. Combine my looks with the wealth and social status of a powerful executive and I made an attractive package. However, women her size sometimes didn't care for men of my height. Plus, with a body like hers, she no do had plenty of attention from boys (and probably girls) her own age. Fortunately, her preferences soon wouldn't matter.
I waited for Lilly to sit down in the chair opposite my desk before I spoke. "Miss Daniels, I am sure you are confused as to why I have called you here, so let me get straight to it. I despise your father, Mark.”
“To be quite direct, Miss Daniels,” I continued, “your father is a pompous windbag who loves the sound of his own voice. He was born with a silver spoon in his mouth and has been pampered his whole life. That fancy Ivy League degree is no substitute for experience. Mark shouldn’t have an executive’s position, but the Board of Directors got him hired anyway because his granddaddy plays golf with half of them. He's in over his head, but he’s got his head so far up his ass he hasn’t a fucking clue how close to the edge he’s walking. He's an arrogant little son of a bitch and I'd very much like to see him fall on his ass."
I held up a manila envelope and slid it across the desk to her. "That's a copy of documentation we're required by federal law to submit every quarter to the EPA certifying our compliance with a few dozen environmental regulations. For the past three years that's been Mark's job to complete, so you'll find his signature at the bottom of every one attesting to their accuracy. The highlighted portions are where I've identified that he has also been misreporting certain information.
"Now personally I figure that he did it because your father is an arrogant Ivy League prick who couldn't find his way across the factory floor with a map. But the EPA and DoJ aren't going to give a fuck whether he's a moron; when they catch wind of this, they're going to call it falsification of data, failure to report, and fraud. That means millions in fines to the company and maybe a short stint in federal prison for Mark.”
"Now the EPA office that oversees these reports is nearly as clueless as your father, so the odds are next to zero that they ever notice this shit on their own. They get a thousand of these damn reports every quarter because thirty years ago some Massachusetts liberal got up in arms about Chesapeake clams or some nonsense and pushed through a bill mandating every manufacturer handling any of a few dozen chemicals file these damn reports. I bet they all get stuck in giant file cabinet and forgotten about as soon as they arrive.
I grinned maliciously. “But, if I place an anonymous call to them and tip them onto this, I guarantee some eager beaver looking to move up the ranks will latch onto this like a bulldog. Inside a week we're going to have government investigators all over the place and your father will be well and truly fucked.”
The leather in my chair creaked as I leaned back. "So you must be asking yourself why I’m not having this conversation with Mark. Tell him to quit or else.” I shrugged. “Quite simply, I don’t think Mark is smart enough to realize how fucked he is. He’s an aggressive, competitive prick and I know he hates my guts, so I figure he’ll probably try to take me on rather than back down. So if I can’t count on him to tuck his tail between his legs and go, then I’m just making him even more of a pain in my ass than he already is.
I leaned forward and pointed a thick forefinger at her. “But you, Miss Daniels, you’re practical. You can see that if your father were to lose his job and do 18 months in minimum security, your family takes it in the teeth. The house, the cars, your tuition, your sister's private school - I'm betting your mom's income as trophy wife and homemaker don't cover that. Just imagine having to sell your house and move out of that fancy neighborhood while all your friends whisper behind your back about your father, the felon. You might have to transfer to some cheap state school instead of that fancy university. Your Mom, your sister, you - all the local laughing stock. I bet that would just be unbearable.” I grinned mightily as I saw the horror of such public shame sink in.
“So I trust, Miss Daniels, that you are pragmatic. Moreover, you’ve got something that Richard can’t offer me. You.” I let my eyes glide back over her body to further convey my meaning.
"So here's my proposal: I'm going to hold onto this information and next year, Mark is past the statute of limitations. Your family lives happily ever after.
“But while that year is running out, you become my mistress. You keep my libido satisfied, you get your dream life. You don't, I make that phone call, and that shiny happy future goes bye-bye.
"What is it going to be, Miss Daniels?"
