Accidental Slave (3 page)

If nothing else, he would be a decent escort to take to the fundraiser. People might assume they were a couple, though she had not the slightest sexual attraction toward him. Not that he wasn’t handsome. Gary was of medium height with a full head of sandy blond hair cut in a conservative but not unattractive style, with never a hair out of place. His suits were impeccably tailored, his ties of the finest silk, his cologne subtle. He had even features, a trim physique, and an All-American kind of appeal.

Not her type though. She preferred dark, swarthy men with smoldering eyes and big, strong hands. She shook her head, wondering where all the good men were. When she found time to date, which wasn’t often, given the ridiculous hours she put in, the man she was with would invariably become intimidated by her self-assuredness and high-powered career.

She hadn’t made it this far by batting her eyes and showing cleavage. Sometimes she wished she was more like that—able to draw on her feminine wiles to bend men to her will, but she just couldn’t bring herself to use her body to get what she wanted. Nor had she needed to, not with her brains, her education and her sheer determination.

It was hardest at night, when it would have been nice to have someone to cuddle, someone to hold her and tell her she was lovely. Someone who would see past the strong, forceful image she presented to the world to the lonely woman inside.

She looked at her watch. It was after eight. She admired the filigreed gold band, thinking of Bryan, who had given it to her. She hadn’t seen or heard from him since he’d walked out. The sad part was, she barely missed him.

Was there a man out there who could handle her on her terms? Who wouldn’t need to be coddled and have his frail ego stroked at every turn? Was there a guy out there strong enough and confident enough to take her on, without being a bully and a prick? Maybe she was too picky. Or maybe the guy she was holding out for just didn’t exist.

Sometimes she found herself longing for a man who would just take what he wanted, confident that what he offered would suit her as well. Yet she didn’t want a guy who was over-confident, who thought he was God’s gift to women. She knew plenty of guys like that, and she wasn’t interested. She hadn't worked this hard to get ahead, only to go home to that kind of bullshit.

She was lonely, when she had time to be lonely. But at the rate she was going, she’d never have the chance to meet Mr. Right, if he was even out there. She worked six days a week and spent the seventh recuperating.

With a sigh, she shut down her computer and swept some papers and files into her briefcase, shutting it with a click. Tomorrow was another day. She would go home, take a hot shower, open a new bottle of wine and microwave something. Then in the morning, she’d get up and do it all again.

~*~

“I love your new haircut, Helen. It’s a great look for you.”

Helen, the human resources officer, looked up at Gary with a rarely bestowed smile. “Why, Gary,” she gushed, her wrinkly cheeks turning pink. “Thank you for noticing.”

In fact, Gary wouldn’t have noticed, except he’d overheard two secretaries outside Helen’s office discussing her new “do”. It looked pretty much the same to him as her old one, not that he bothered to notice the hair or anything much else of women over fifty, as Helen certainly was.

Still, it wouldn’t hurt to rack up a few points with the old broad, who coveted her personnel files as if they contained top secret documents from the FBI.

“What can I do for you today, Gary?”

“I need Stacy’s personnel folder. Her annual review is coming up and I wanted to familiarize myself with last year’s review and goals.”

“I’ll get it for you.” Reaching into her desk drawer, she withdrew a small key. She unlocked the drawer marked M – Z and pulled it open. She handed the file to him. Gary took it and extracted last year’s review while Helen watched him with her beady eyes.

“I’ll copy it for you.” She held out her hand. Gary nodded, watching with a barely concealed smile as she turned and placed the document in the copier. “That’s strange,” she said after a few seconds. “I thought I’d turned this on this morning.” She flicked the on-off button and then flicked it again.

Gary moved to stand next to her. He crouched down and craned his neck to see behind the machine. “It’s plugged in,” he lied, having unplugged it himself while Helen was on her coffee break. “Maybe just leave it a few minutes and try again? Sometimes these older copiers overheat.

I’ll put in a word with Art to get you a new one.”

“You will?” Helen beamed at him.

“In the meantime,” Gary glanced meaningfully at his watch. “I am kind of pressed for time.

Maybe you could use the main copier, or let me—”

“I’ll do it,” Helen interrupted, just as he’d expected and hoped. No one but she was to touch original documents. “You stay put. I’ll be right back.”

She left the office. Swiftly, he pulled the file drawer open and withdrew the folder with the words, “Martin, Elizabeth A.” neatly typed on the tab. He pushed the drawer closed and slid the folder in the narrow opening between the filing cabinet and the wall.

Crouching again beside the copier, he reached behind it and pushed the plug back into place.

He turned the machine on and watched it warm up.

Helen returned a moment later, his copies in hand. “Thanks. Oh, and I tried the copier again.

It’s working now.”

As he walked down the hallway, Gary forced the thought of Elizabeth’s personnel folder from his mind. He would wait until the coast was clear and fetch it after Helen, who never worked past five o’clock, had gone.

~*~

He knew he shouldn’t do it. He should just skip right past the salary agreement—it was only going to piss him off. Even as he told himself this, he knew he was going to look anyway.

It was even worse than he’d expected. The bitch was getting a full $45,000 more than he was making, which was $25,000 over the $200,000 he knew Bill had been pulling down. Plus her bonus option had better terms than his.

He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, fighting the irrational temptation to tear the contract into shreds. Instead he carefully set it aside and continued to leaf through the papers.

Ah. There’s what he was looking for—the proofs of the head shots that had been taken for the press release announcing her move to Wallace & Pratt. He removed the envelope containing the photos. It wouldn’t be missed, at least not for some time. He could use shots that hadn’t been chosen for the publication. They would be perfect for what he had in mind. The company’s top-of-the-line photo programs would make his plan a piece of cake to execute.

He put the envelope into his briefcase and took the file back to Helen’s office. All the support staff had long since called it quits for the day. Elizabeth, as usual, was still in her office, making the rest of them look bad if they tried to leave at a decent hour.

Stealthily he entered Helen’s office and opened her desk drawer, poking around until he found the small key for the filing cabinet. Quickly he unlocked the drawer and replaced the file.

Unable to resist, he stuck his head in Elizabeth’s office. “Working late, I see,” he commented.

She was at the large drafting table, pouring over some new designs for a website campaign spread. She looked up. “I was just finishing up. Did you need something?”

“No. Just wanted to say good night.”

~*~

Elizabeth examined herself critically in the three-way mirror in her walk-in closet. The saleswoman at the boutique had been so persuasive and she’d ended up spending far more than she’d intended. She had to admit, the dress fit perfectly, a sheath of pearly gray silk that hugged her curves, emphasizing her high breasts and narrow waist.

Why not? What was the point of working like a dog, if one never had anything to show for it? She deserved something nice. Anyway, it was a black-tie affair and evening gowns were expected. She turned again in the mirror, wondering if the slit along one leg was too revealing.

She wore thigh-high stockings of the same pearly gray, shimmery sheer. Hopefully she wouldn’t run them before she got to the dinner.

Gary was picking her up at seven. He’d really come around this past month, ever since they’d won the LTM deal, which he had been instrumental in procuring. She’d make sure his bonus reflected his dedication. Though she didn’t fool herself she’d won his affection or even loyalty, at least he was behaving himself.

She slipped on the shoes she’d purchased to go with the dress, aware she would regret them by the end of the evening—at work she rarely wore anything above a one-inch heel.

Her cell phone, still on the bureau beside the small beaded handbag that held essentials for the evening, buzzed. Flipping it open, she saw the text message. Gary’s taxi was downstairs waiting. Elizabeth sprayed some perfume on her neck and wrists, gave herself a final glance in the mirror, grabbed the matching silk shawl and headed out, almost feeling like she was going on a date.

The fundraiser took place in the huge ballroom of a grand old hotel. Gary and she mingled, drinks in hand, with the other guests. The auction itself was silent, with bids placed in envelopes in front of the items and services offered. There were already several envelopes in front of Elizabeth’s offer to cook for four. She glanced around the crowded ballroom of the hotel, wondering who had bid.

Eventually they were seated at a table with six other people, two of whom she knew professionally. The dinner was sumptuous, with a choice of fish or beef, lavishly prepared, fresh vegetables and her favorite, Bananas Foster, for dessert. Carafes of red and white wine were placed on every table.

Gary was very solicitous; always making sure her wine glass was full. In fact, she consumed more than she wanted and realized she was feeling quite tipsy. She excused herself toward the end of the evening to use the ladies room. When she returned, Gary had added more wine to her glass.

“I don’t think I need any more wine.” She pushed the glass away.

“Don’t be silly. It’s not like you’re getting behind the wheel. It’s been a long week. We deserve to kick back a little. Don’t be a stick in the mud.”

He slid the glass back toward her and lifted his own. “To Elizabeth Martin.” He raised his glass in what seemed an ironic salute. “The best damn EVP Wallace & Pratt has ever had.” He smiled broadly and Elizabeth realized he must be a bit tipsy too. He had never offered her such lavish praise.

What the hell. She lifted her glass, thanked him for the kind words and drank.

~*~

Gary watched her carefully as she drained her glass. He’d only refilled it halfway, so as not to dilute the drug too much, in case she didn’t finish it. He’d managed to be subtle and quick, slipping the rapidly dissolving capsule that contained the odorless, clear liquid in with the wine while she was off in the bathroom.

He’d purchased the date rape drug, GHB, online, amazed as he always was by what one could buy on the Internet. The drug promised to render its victim compliant, lowering inhibitions and inducing a kind of walking blackout. With any luck, she wouldn’t even remember what happened that evening.

But he would.

It was time to move to the next phase of his carefully planned coup. He put his hand lightly over her wrist. She didn’t pull away, but instead smiled at him, her expression somewhat bleary.

“You ready to leave?”

“Okay.” She nodded and started to rise, stumbling. The drug, coupled with the alcohol, was already doing its work, he noted happily. He hurried to his feet and steadied her with a gentle grip.

Her perfume was subtle but lingering, and her breasts seemed suspended, untouched by gravity or age in the silver-gray fabric of her clingy gown. His cock rose, despite his hatred, or perhaps partially because of it. Tonight was going to be fun. Risky, but fun.

They made their farewells to various movers and shakers as he steadily guided her toward the doors. One of the doormen procured a taxi for them in short order. Gary held her arm tight, assuring she made it safely into the cab.

He leaned forward and in an undertone gave the cabbie the address, not of Elizabeth’s apartment house, but of House of Usher. He sat back next to Elizabeth, enjoying the feel of her thigh touching his.

“I feel so strange.” Her voice was pitched even lower than usual, throaty and sensual. She let her head fall back against the seat, her lovely dark hair framing her face, diamond studs glinting on her earlobes.

“Say.” He pretended the thought had just occurred to him. “It’s not even eleven yet. I know this really cool club we could stop in, just for a few minutes. How does that sound?”

“Oh, I don’t know, Gary. It’s been a long week….”

“Sure. But it’s the weekend. We deserve a little fun, right? All work and no play makes Elizabeth a dull girl….”

She giggled. Gary had never heard her giggle. Elizabeth Martin didn’t giggle. Unless she was drunk and drugged…. He smiled grimly and patted her leg. She didn’t sit up and push his hand away. She barely seemed to notice he was touching her. “I feel strange,” she said again.

“Woozy. Hot. Is it hot in here?”

She fanned her face with both hands, her head still back against the seat. Gary saw the cabbie in the rearview mirror flash him a knowing leer. Gary smiled back, thinking,
if you only
knew what I have planned for this bitch
….

“This club we’re going to, they do auctions too. It’s all just in good fun, of course. They raise money for charities. I bet you’d raise a fortune if we were to put you on the block.” He laughed, watching her carefully for her reaction.

“Auction?” She slurred the word, so it came out more as aw-shun. Her eyes were closed, a half-smile on her face. For a moment he worried he’d given her too much of the drug.

“Yeah. It’ll be fun. Just leave it to me.” She didn’t answer. “You okay, Elizabeth?”

Slowly she opened her blue eyes, which looked unfocused, the pupils down to pinpoints.