Office Affairs (Closed for tmmmblrrr)

[CarnivalBarker]

Office Affairs (Closed for tmmmbrrr)

"Jake Steele," I say, picking up the telephone, as I collapse on the bed at my home. The woman beside me failed to satisfy me anymore, and it didn't bother me in the least to make her wait until I was finished. "Yes," I say. "Put him through."

The call was from my office director in the Atlantic Corridor. Oil prices had increased in recent months, and that meant our operations costs had shot up. The directors were meeting in Chicago, and the shareholders were complaining that dividend payments might be withheld. The Board of Directors was summoning me there tomorrow to address "concerns."

"Jesus, Baker," I sit up, pushing the woman away slightly, as she had been trying to curl up beside me while I talked on the phone. "Can you not handle a simple task?" I ask him. "They will get their dividend! Well, didn't you explain it?!" I stand up and begin gathering my clothes. The woman in the bed would not be necessary. I didn't like her that much anymore, anyway. A former consultant that I had hired a few years back, she had stayed around when her contract expired to assist me in matters such as these. I had originally taken to her pretty brown hair and nice legs, but at 36, she wasn't prime real estate, and I could take or leave her. Today, I would leave her.

"Baker, I'll be 52 tomorrow," I tell the caller. "You are going to make me 65. I am going to have to cancel my plans, fly to Chicago, and bail us out of this fucking mess that you can't seem to handle? Fuck you." I hang up the phone. I look at the woman sitting disheveled beneath me. "You gotta go," I tell her.

"But we're not finished," she mewls.

"Oh, we are," I say. "You gotta go. Now." She tries to argue and I make her shut up, get her things, and get out. I didn't need her, and didn't need this mess today. As she got dressed, I opened the blinds. It was raining. "Dammit, my wife isn't going to fly out today if these storms keep up," I say only to hope, and to nobody in particular. I put on my belt and shoes, brown to accent my navy pinstriped suit that I would wear with a simple white shirt and no tie for the trip. I reach for my phone once more and punch a direct-line code.

"The mailbox number you have called is not available," an automated voice said. "Please leave a message."

"Fuck," I say, as the message played a series of beeps, signaling a ton of messages, making me wait to leave my own. Nika was my daughter's age, I think. And she was no more responsible, it seemed, than my daughter, Haley. Her job was simple. She was my assistant. She was to be on call for anything I needed, whether to handle press requests or make sure my dog Barney got his shots. She was to stall phone calls with heads of state, when she wasn't bringing me coffee and picking up my dry cleaning. She was to be on call at all times and to be ready if I needed something. And for that she made more than most first year lawyers might. And now she was not answering the goddamn phone.

"Nika, call me back!" I grouse when the voicemail finally prompts me, before hanging up abruptly. I had hired the girl three weeks ago, thinking she could handle this job, and knowing her ass looked great in anything she wore, an unwritten part of her job description. This would be the first trip she would go on, and I could not imagine how this was going to go. But the little girl better get her shit together, and she had better return my call immediately. Before she did, however, the phone rang from a different caller. It was Haley.

"Hey daddy," said my little girl. "I wanted to say Happy Birthday!"

"It's tomorrow," is all I say, listening for the sound of the other shoe. Haley was, at twenty-eight, still chasing what I considered to be a ridiculous goal of becoming an award-winning actress in Los Angeles. She had long brown hair, and the youthful good looks of a Mila Kunis, but she probably had the acting chops of The girl that gets slaughtered or raped at the start of every horror film. That meant she was broke and never called unless she needed cash.

"Well, I wanted to call today, because Megan and I are driving up the Coast to San Francisco tomorrow," she said. So, how much would this shopping trip cost me, I wondered to myself. "I knew I wouldn't get to call."

"Well thank you, baby girl," I say. "You guys need some money?" I ask, cutting to the chase.

"Well, we have enough money for the trip," she says. "Megan is worried about covering our meals."

Sure she is, I thought. This is the part where I give you a couple hundred bucks for meals, and you and Megan go dress like harlots and flirt for meals from guys in San Francisco, and then take my money to go shopping.

"I'll put $500 on your debit card, honey," I say, because I am a sucker for my little girl and can't say no. Ever. Haley thanks me and quickly ends the call. Of course. I look at my phone, and still no word from Nika. Shit. I call my office immediately.

"Shane," I say, wondering why the fucking IT guy is at the reception desk. "Will you buzz my office and find Nika. Get her on the phone, now," I say.

http://www.celwalls.com/large/201302/3282.jpg

 

[tmmmbrrr]

.....

 

[CarnivalBarker]

Jake's phone finally rang with a call from the office. Thank god, he thought to himself. The woman he had been with was in the background, gathering her things and searching for something - a missing earring, some eyeliner, whatever. He looked to see just how close she was to being gone as he answered the phone.

"Nika," he said, with no further greeting. "We're going to Miami for four days. I need you to contact the airport and make sure the pilots have the company plane ready in three hours. Then, you need to contact Stephanie in the Miami office and get reservations for four at Prime One Twelve for 7:30 tonight. Tell her to arrange for us to stay at the company condo and then I'll need you to pick me up at my home on the way to the airport." As he spoke, he was intrigued at the possibilities of a trip with his new assistant. "Be here in two hours." He hung up the phone and waited for the woman he was with to leave. An hour later, he was in a black suit with a white pressed shirt, ready to go. He called the Senior Vice President of Finance, as he sat in his home office and fired up his computer.

"David," he said. "I need you to have our accounts for North and South Carolina, Virginia, and Pennsylvania in binders to be presented to our Atlantic Board members by tomorrow at eleven."

"No problem," the senior executive said. "Where should I send them?"

"Miami," he said. "But have them sent to Nika, my assistant, she'll be going with me."

"Oh yeah?" David asked, his tone clearly one of intrigue. "What is she, twenty-one?" Jake smirked to himself.

"I think she's twenty-four, twenty-five," he said, comfortable speaking about such things with David Branford, who came up through the ranks with him and who had spent many crazy nights in any number of cities when they were out searching for oil leases right out of college.

"Put in a good word for me when you strike out," David said.

"What did Zuckerberg say? 'I'm CEO, bitch?'" Jake reminded his friend. "And besides," he continued, "you can be fired for sexual harassment."

"You can't?" David asked.

"I'm CEO, bitch." The men laughed and got off the phone after a few more moments discussion about financials and strategy on the West Coast and Mountain regions. Jake looked at his watch a while later and noticed that it was now only thirty minutes from the time he had told Nika to have the pilots ready. Where is she at? He thought. He sighed, annoyed. This little girl needs to learn.

 

[tmmmbrrr]

.....

 

[CarnivalBarker]

Jake put down the phone and poured himself a small bourbon. He wasn't an anxious flier as much as he was a casual drinker and the moment hit him as the time to drink. The woman he was with came out and pecked him on the cheek on her way out the door.

"Call me when you get back?" She asked.

"Maybe so," was all he said, stepping into the den to gather his bags and assorted paperwork he would need for the trip. The woman sighed and then mumbled in his direction, giving up her efforts.

"Fuck you, Jake."

"Goodbye Lacey," he smiled, returning to his office as she let herself out the door, getting in her car, and driving away, perhaps for the last time. Jake didn't care. He had bigger things to worry about and newer girls to occupy his time. He looked at his watch to wonder where one in particular was. It was getting late. The plane wouldn't leave without him. It was his plane. But he wanted to get to Miami, clean up, and meet with Stephanie Stroud, the Office Manager in the Miami campus before meeting the company's principal investor at the restaurant. There was no minute spared in nearly any of his days. Now was no exception. Moments later, his phone rang.

"Yeah?" Jake said, answering.

"Mr. Steele," came the voice of the guard at the entrance of his massive estate. "Your car is here."

"Thanks, Jeb," he said, hanging up quickly. He gathered the items he needed and his single bag, then made his way out to the car. The driver opened the trunk and he placed his bag inside, closed it, then quickly got in the passenger side back seat. He noticed first, the pert, tanned leg of Nika, his assistant, from just above the knee, down to a nice, but not formal, heel, and then followed his eyes up her body and met her eyes with his own. She was incredibly cute, certainly sexy, and both girlish and illicitly enticing in an intoxicating mix of youth, innocence, and sex appeal that was so amazing. Every girl under twenty-five had it, and she had it in spades. But there would be no way he would allow her to know how appealing to him she was.

"What took so long?" He asked, demanding to know where she'd been. "Is the plane ready?"

 

[tmmmbrrr]

.....

 

[CarnivalBarker]

Jake pulled his bag from the car and turned as he closed the trunk to face his assistant. He watched her legs beneath her skirt carry her up the stairs to the plane, and he appreciated the swell of her cute, little ass with each step she took. By his measure she looked athletic and fit, certainly ripe and perky, hard and soft in the right places, and every bit the fun toy he hoped she might be. She was also stylish, yet down to earth in her dress, which was probably due to her only modest salary, which he paid. He harbored thoughts of what her panties might look like. She was still quite young and he imagined her in a nice pair of boyshorts beneath a cute baby doll, or perhaps pantyless in a simple chemise. He hoped he would find out what preference she might have in the next four days.

He finished the climb onto the plane and promptly stowed his bag in the rear closet compartment before settling in to a large, comfortable chair that always served as his when the plane was in the air. As the engines whirred to a roar, they both settled in for the three and a half hour ride.

"Did Stephanie confirm our reservations tonight?" He asked Nika. "We have to entertain an oil investor and his wife,. He continued giving Nika little chance to respond. "You'll love Prime One Twelve," as he said the words, he realized that he had not seen Nika carry any bag on the plane. He turned her direction. "Where is your bag?" He asked, in an accusatory tone.

 

[tmmmbrrr]

.....

 

[CarnivalBarker]

"No, you've done enough," he said, his tone somewhere between sincere and snappy. He wasn't mad at her, not even irritated, though he found it odd that she would both fail to pack a bag and be willing to drop a month's pay on a new wardrobe on a whim. At the same time, he had just given his daughter more money yet again to do just that. He chalked it up quickly to the younger generation. He glanced at her legs as she sat nearby, careful to do so casually, quickly, so as not to become creepy. Without doing so consciously, he jutted out his chin in an approving gesture. He definitely liked what he saw. He had since he'd checked her online information out during the hiring and job selection process. She probably could have come to her interview in a garbage bag and done okay. He would not lie to himself about the qualifications - those being a high capability to put out fires quickly, work in the company to communicate his directives, and wear something cute each day that showed off her ass and body, while making sure not to get comfortable, fat, or lazy. He had no idea about her ability to handle most of these roles. But her ass looked cute every time she came around.

"Tom Donilson," he said, changing subjects. He awaited any response briefly, then continued. "Tom is our chief investor in the Atlantic Corridor. High gas prices always scare him because he thinks it means low oil prices. Low oil prices drive the thousands of small investors away and lower our stock price. For every point we lose, Tom loses forty million and 1% of his net worth. When that number approaches five, six percent, Tom gets itchy and thinks about selling. If Tom sells, that means other oil companies buy, and that means we could get taken over. A swap of just 8-10% can swing our company to new owners and if Tom sells six of that, we're screwed." Again, he waited in silence, over the roar of the plane engines, and when he got no response, finished his thought. "We're having dinner with Tom tonight, and his wife." He gave her another look, implicating her assistance. "He's going to like you." He leaned in a bit, tilted his head so that he looked at her through eyes turned upward, as if to emphasize the point, the way one would look at a child to command skepticism and also dominance. "FLIRT with him. Don't overdo it. But let him think he has.....a shot. These things make him want to stick around, regardless of earnings. Got it?" He punched a button on the overhead console and a hostess in a short, yet professional, red mini dress stepped from the front of the plane. He ordered a vodka martini and settled in for the ride, watching her ass as she returned to prepare his drink. He turned his attention to the girl working for him, battering her with a shift in the winds of conversation hoping she was thrown off guard.

"Tell me, Nika," he paused, again for effect. Always for effect. "Do you.....enjoy....older men?" He gave a wry smile, laying the trap that he so loved to lay.

 

[tmmmbrrr]

.....

 

[CarnivalBarker]

Jake appreciated her answer. It was careful, calculated, and conveyed a wisdom that showed she could read between lines and demonstrate a prudence when necessary. He liked that she was sharp. At the same time, her wisdom was tempered with her youth, which only allowed so much maturity and he sensed just beneath the veneer that there was still a sweet, innocent girl from Wherever, U.S.A., who was as yet unsettled on the national and international stage. He wondered what all she was new at, what experience - or inexperience - she had. He sipped his drink and began answering the questions she now lodged.

"Tom's wife is 66. And flirting with Tom might make her force him to sell every share he has." Jake paused. "I'm not saying don't do it, but you have to be careful. Appeal to his wallet and his love of a mysterious, beautiful girl he's never met." Jake's eyes ran the length of her body, showing clear approval on behalf of both himself and his investor who would dine with them later. "But we must still appear somewhat professional." He undid the seatbelt in his chair as the plane established a cruising altitude, then turned on the television in the corner of the cabin, setting the stock scroll before him, with the sound turned off as another question came his way. At the same time, the girl in the hostess outfit returned, handing him the drink he had requested.

"May I call you Jake, tonight?" His assistant asked. He sipped his drink again, looking over the rim of the glass at the hostess, intentionally ignoring the question for a silent moment, his eyes connecting squarely with the girl delivering his drink. He wondered what color her panties were and where the flight staff would be staying for the next three days. The girl left and Jake returned his eyes to Nika.

"I would hope you would," he finally responded. "It is my name." He had never put any restriction on her level of formality around him. In fact, at this moment he hoped to place her, later, in the most unprofessional of situations - several times if possible. "And what shall I call you?" He asked, though he had never referred to her other than "Nika." He left the implication open before turning to a heavy briefing book he had earlier carried onto the plane. He thumbed through it briefly, before his engines turned up to 11.

"Nika!" He snapped, though without raising his voice beyond a simple, stern tone. "I do not see the field output reports that go behind tab 3. We don't ever go to a board gathering without the field output reports," he gave a heavy sigh as if he cared. His affect was merely to keep her a bit on edge, on the heels of her more intimate question about him. The field output reports he could take or leave. He wanted her to not know it, but he did desire her to think he could do that with her as well. An anxious girl was a more eager-to-please one. And therefore a more compliant one when it mattered most. He sipped his drink once more and put the binder away, signaling he could not work without the reports, reinforcing his act, hoping to leave her uncertain before shifting gears one more time.

"Where did you go to college?" He asked, turning the spotlight on her again, just as he set her up to want anything but that. He swiveled the chair to face her, crossed his legs, and settled in for a longer discussion on the mid-length flight.

 

[tmmmbrrr]

.....

 

[CarnivalBarker]

“Perhaps while we have some time together, you could mentor me on what goes into those briefing books and why they’re important. That would help me make sure that nothing is amiss in the future." Nika's words grated a bit, but Jake didn't reveal it. Mentor? He thought he had hired a fully formed individual, though he allowed that someone who put the books together aside from her had either not done it or failed to show her. He felt she deserved a pass. He listened more about preferences of names. Nika.....Miss Arrowsmith.....he didn't see any difference. Donilson had met Jake's wife and daughter and would know that this was neither and, as long as stock prices remained high, Donilson and others didn't care how many times he would fuck her between now and whenever he transferred her to the Detroit operation and out of his concern. He watched her lean back and close her eyes, resting into the flight. He noticed firm thighs, decorated beautifully with stockings, wondering what the view higher up was, though he could not see that far. He imagined she was a runner, or did serious yoga. Her body looked soft where it should be and firm where so many women weren't. He imagined her holed up in his winter house in West Palm Beach, going for a sprint along the beach as he took his morning coffee and phone calls from the President or Secretary of Commerce. He thought with amusement of watching her interact with his daughter at a company gathering, imagining they might find themselves to be nearly sisters in both age and demeanor, while his ever loyal wife suspected nothing or looked the other way if she did. He had plans for Nika Arrowsmith.

“San Francisco,” she said, awakening him from his daydream and opening her eyes. “the University of San Francisco. I always dreamed of living there. Who knows if I’ll ever get another chance? At least that ticket has been punched.”

"We have shareholder meetings there and a condo for the company executives' use in downtown San Francisco," he slipped in, leaving out that for her to stay there, she would have to be with him. His words didn't seem to register as she kept going to her next turn of mind. He sensed a challenge and liked it.

“So, Jake, when a man is at your station in life, what tickets do you have that you still want to have punched. Are there any left?” She asked, standing. “Excuse me for a second,” she said, “I’ll give you a moment to think.” He pondered her question a moment and watched her ass, as he had watched the hostess' ass, all the way to the galley. She definitely seemed firm and ripe, perky still, as she was physically somewhere between a woman and a girl in her teens, or so it seemed, which he enjoyed. Her maturity seemed much older than her years. He watched her comfortably adjust and admonish the hostess. This one will be fun to tame, he thought, as she returned, noticeably more comfortable.

"Well, Mr. Steele? What tickets do you still have to be punched?" She asked again. He sat his drink down and looked over her before giving the only answer he could give.

"Nika, I punch the tickets for others," he said. "Me? I don't need tickets." He would punch her ticket at the room later tonight....he hoped.

 

[tmmmbrrr]

.....

 

[CarnivalBarker]

When the car arrived at the condo, Jake watched Nika step out and instantly head inside with the assistant from the local office. He watched Nika's body climb the stairs to the second level loft area, then down the hall where her room was. The girls talked about getting Nika's wardrobe together, but he drowned it out, turning instead to his phone.

"Hey," the voice on the other end said. "Did you arrive?" He sighed.

"Yes," he placed his coat carefully over a hook in the foyer before climbing the stairs to the landing himself and heading the opposite direction down the hall to the executive suite where he would stay. He rolled his eyes as his wife yammered on in his ear.

"Now, who are you there with?" she asked.

"Martin Kyle," he said, easy with his own lie. "You met him at the summer party. He's the legal counsel from our New York Office." He kicked off his shoes.

"Oh yes!" his wife said. "I liked him." Jake nodded. You probably want to fuck him, he thought.

"Well, I have to go. We are having dinner with Tom Donilson in a couple hours and I need to read the reports on his interests." He got off the phone quickly, feeling he sufficiently bought time for the next three days, expecting her not to call since he knew that while he was out of the office she would use his credit card for ungodly purchases she did not need. He stretched for the first time from the plane ride and began pouring over the reports at the writing table in the corner of the room. A while later, he wondered whether the girls had finished whatever it was they felt it necessary to do. He left his room and peered downstairs. It was still quiet and he made no effort to find Nika or Stephanie. After returning to his room, he took a shower and changed into a dark gray suit with a crisp white shirt that accentuated his rather deep tan, and threw on some platinum cufflinks to accentuate the regal look. He buzzed the driver below.

"Chuck, we will be ready in ten minutes," he said, failing to consult with his partner for the evening. He then buzzed her room immediately. "Nika," he called. "I'll meet you downstairs when you are ready." He thought about his conversation with her earlier and took it upon himself to guide her choices. "If you have something short and black, go that route." He didn't think that Stephanie was still around and thought nothing of his admonishment, moreso since it was designed to make sure the girl was ready for the ever-professional, ever-on-the-make shareholder who they would soon meet.

 

[tmmmbrrr]

.....

 

[CarnivalBarker]

Jake looked up from the view of the city when Nika presented herself in the foyer.

"You look beautiful, Nika," he said. And she did. He wondered if she had panties on underneath. He wondered if she would be easy or difficult to bed and, when he did, whether she whimpered or screamed. He wondered what she tasted like and how she felt from the inside. She wondered if she would let him have everything he wanted. Or if he would just have to take it. His face broadened into a standard grin. "Do you have your ID?" He asked, simply making sure. They would no doubt order drinks or entire bottles of wine and, in a certain light, she could pass for 17, which meant she would not pass for 21 without it. He waited a moment as she gathered anything she needed for the evening and opened the door into the night for her to head to their car, the driver already waiting. The ride to the restaurant was rather uneventful. Her dress was beautiful, but he didn't want to scare her off with compliments, and he was content to eye her athletic legs that were revealed beneath it and say nothing beyond what he already had. As such, it wasn't until they arrived and Tom Donilon greeted Jake that he make any other comments about her appearance.

"This delicious girl is Nika," Jake said, his hand running low along her back as it might with a date, while Tom shook her slight hand. "She is my newest executive assistant."

"VERY nice to meet you," Donilson said, his eyes running along her length and lines from head to toe. He raised his head and looked at Jake. "What happened to Stacey?" he asked. Jake handled the matter with grace, though he knew the real story and ran through it in his head.

Stacey was hot with a fine ass and also a problem with weed he thought, just before a fleeting thought of her lying beneath him as he pounded his cock into her pussy on his desk in the Phoenix office. And I got tired of her. He began to speak out when his thoughts passed.

"Stacey left to pursue other opportunities," Jake said. "But Nika is certainly capable of doing anything and everything that Stacey could," he concluded, hoping that to truly be the case. He pointed at the nearby bar and changed the subject. "Nika, would you bring us each a bourbon?" He asked, in a tone that was more an instruction, designed to keep her in her place and encourage her to defer to him, or create the habit of doing so. It would come in handy later if she had any thought of disobeying a command or suggestion he needed or wanted her to fulfill. His hand ran a bit lower, just above the swell of her ass as he turned her toward the bar, encouraging her to do her duty, and lingering long enough to feel a stir below, preparing later to claim her as his own.

 

[tmmmbrrr]

.....

 

[CarnivalBarker]

Jake watched the girl make her way to the bar and returned his attention to his shareholder.

"Where did you find that?" Donilson asked.

"Central casting," Jake replied with a wink. "She's talented."

"Yes, she is," Tom said, checking her body out as she leaned into the bar, facing away from them. She turned and looked their direction, and his eyes met hers. He thought about things he would enjoy with a girl her age, with her body. The two men, however returned their discussion to business. Moments later, a waiter delivered them drinks, and Jake wondered where the girl had gone and why she had delegated her duties. He made a note that perhaps she felt she could, or would, not be controlled. He would set her straight, perhaps later tonight. As the crowd in the place chatted a dull roar of such highly classed locales, jake finally saw her returning, making a subtle effort to watch her body as she came back. She took her place by her side, and he pressed his hand to her back once more, his finger playing back and forth along her waist as he did.

"Nika," he said. "Tom was just telling me he had a vacation home in Colorado. I think you should book it for me in the Winter." He did not say she would be going too, but felt it....appropriate.

"Tom!" He heard Mrs. Donilon approach. "Tom!"

 

[tmmmbrrr]

.....

 

[CarnivalBarker]

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Tom Donilson said, his hand squarely now on the girl's waist, perhaps a touch lower even. He knew better than to do more. And he knew his CEO probably would later. Tom enjoyed living through Jake vicariously. Masters of the Universe lived excellent lives, filled with as much travel, adventure, and girls of every stripe, which money could buy at any port of call. It happened that Jake had great success making them come to him. He did not know what Nika's relationship to Jake was, apart from work, just yet, but he suspected that if the past had any indication, Jake was probably fucking the tight little body he now got a cheap feel from. He spat some nonsense about the city's skyline, how it had come to be, and the founding of the city, and told himself he didn't truly care if the girl was interested in his tales or not. But as was often the case, the tale was interrupted by Jake himself, who found them looking out the picture window at the beautiful view, on his way to the bar.

"Tom, you were not here when the city was founded, I don't care how many times you tell that story," he said, knowing Tom's every trick. "And I also know your drink is empty, and so is mine." He turned his attention to Nika. "Would you be so kind as to escort me to the bar for one more round?" He held his elbow out to his side for his assistant to take hold, as he turned his eyes once more to Tom. "Patty is getting us all a place at the wine cellar upstairs. We'll have a better view and a private booth, so we can talk business." Tom nodded and went to find his wife. Jake turned and began walking with Nika toward the bar. When they got there, he leaned against it, more turned toward the girl, than the bar. He eyed her up and down, noticing the nice firm location where the light fabric of her dress covered what appeared to be a firm, yet feminine, stomach, a trait he enjoyed in a woman that signified youth and fertility, both of which he approved.

"Donilson was about to stick his tongue in your ear," he said, grinning. "I got jealous and had to come save you."

 

[tmmmbrrr]

.....

 

[CarnivalBarker]

He enjoyed the feel of her firm body brushing into him as they escorted each other to the bar. He found her sharp attitude appealing. She did not, indeed, need saving, as she indicated. He grinned at the naiveté she exhibited, when her eyes met his and she asked her question.

"WE, are doing just fine," he said. "WE made Tom Donilon about 16 million dollars last year against a downturn that has only cost him about 400,000." He sipped a drink placed before him by the bartender and watched as the bartender gave one to the diminutive girl beside him. "Tom's not going anywhere. And he does not need any convincing." He turned to face her. "But, did you notice Patty?" He nodded in the direction of the stairs leading to the wine cellar. He waited a beat to return to his tale. "Her son, not Tom's, but hers from her first marriage, years ago, is the President of Dean Rowe Chase Bank. And Dean Rowe Chase Bank buys and sells mortgages. On property. Specifically, on property in the Dakotas....where there is oil. I need him to sell us as many of them as he can, and then when payment isn't made, our lawyers will foreclose, and we will drill." He sipped his drink again. "You, my dear, would just make a lovely wife for her little boy." He said the words in a charming, precious impression of Patty, as best he could. And while he had no doubt what Patty was thinking, he was not about to let Nika lie in bed beneath anyone but himself, hopefully as soon as tonight. He grabbed her hand and looked at her again.

"But don't worry," he continued, beginning to walk with her toward the cellar entrance. "She just needs to mention you to her son. He will come snooping around and of course the only time he would get to meet you would be if I have you deliver the closing documents on the mortgages." He winked. "And she seems to like you enough that we could celebrate later."