G-Men: The Series (105 page)

My child’s mind went blank; I played possum, hoping she’d just stop what she was doing and leave me alone. A therapist years later said I’d gone into survival mode, a human defense mechanism and a perfectly natural thing for a 9-year old to do. It was the smart thing to do, he’d told me. It wasn’t a sign of weakness, but a sign of strength borne of the will to survive. I blocked everything out until I heard Gennifer’s voice again.

“Guess your spunk’s not in yet, laddie…maybe when you’re ten.” She laughed harshly, staggering out of my room and back to hers.

The next morning, my mother had arrived, her arms full of packages for me.

“Come kiss Mummy, Easton. I’ve missed you so much.”

I ran to her, clutching her arms, begging her to come to the study so I could tell her what had happened. Once I’d told her everything in 9 year-old terms, I saw the anger spread throughout her entire body. Relief flooded over me. She’d banish the governess; I was sure. I was totally unprepared for the anger she directed towards me.

“You must never tell anyone what you’ve just told me, Easton! Do you understand me?”

I nodded, confused and upset.

“I will not have the people in my social circle thinking I’m not a good judge of character or that I’m negligent in parenting. I especially forbid you to ever breathe a word of this to your father!”

“I won’t, Mum, I promise.”

“You damn well better not, because if you do, I’ll find out and you’ll never see me, Grammy or Papa, again! It’ll be as if you’ve killed us all by spreading such a scandalous story around about me!”

I started crying, promising her I wouldn’t tell anyone.

“You see there, Easton? That’s exactly the reason Miss Gennifer took advantage of you! You’re weak just as your father is weak! You’d better learn how to control women, Easton. If you don’t take charge, they will, and then you’ll have no one to blame but yourself. Now, stop your mewling; that only proves how weak you are,” she’d hissed. “I’ll tend to Miss Gennifer, explaining that you’ll be attending boarding school as soon as possible. I will, of course, give her a sterling recommendation along with severance pay to ensure she doesn’t spread any nasty gossip around London. I swear, Easton, I can’t believe I came home from a wonderful holiday only to be greeted with this!”

It was only a matter of days before I was sent off to a private boarding school in Switzerland, not seeing my mother until the following spring. My father had sent letters every week, telling me all about his work, about Trace and the activities they were doing, and how much they all were looking forward to my spending the summer with them. Those letters were my lifeline at the time.

I ran my hand through my hair, wondering what the hell had made me think about that particular memory. Maybe it was because Darcy had been surprised this evening when she learned I was a “trash T.V.” virgin. I’m sure our childhoods were worlds apart. I’d bet my younger brother Trace knew all about growing up
normal
.

I was restless when I arrived back at the St. Regis. It was nearly midnight, but I didn’t need a lot of sleep to be on my game. I didn’t feel like being alone and my cock was still twitching because the other half of my plan for this evening hadn’t come to fruition. There was a trendy night club located just around the corner from the hotel. I decided to stop in for a nightcap or two.

It was fairly crowded and a bit noisy, as I expected. I took a seat at the bar, ordering a bourbon and branch. There were a few single women at the bar. A dark redhead caught my attention immediately as she gazed over at me over the rim of her wine glass. Her skin was ivory, her eyes—even from this distance—were extraordinarily large and luminous. I decided they were probably green or blue. Her lips were full and pouty—the kind I liked gliding my cock past. She was dressed expensively, certainly not in the usual chic-but-cheap garb of a hooker. I instructed the bartender to send her a drink. Several minutes later, she carried her drink down to my end of the bar.

“Thanks for the drink,” she said, with a glowing smile. “I’m in town on business and I just hate going to a bar alone, but the thought of staying in my hotel suite tonight didn’t appeal to me either. I’m sorry I’m rambling, my name’s Tiffany.”

“It’s lovely to meet you Tiffany. My name’s Easton. Would you care to join me?”

“I’d be delighted to, Easton. Next round’s on me,” she replied, tossing me a sexy smile.

“Where are you staying?” I inquired.

“St. Regis,” she replied with a shrug. “It’s where I usually stay when I travel to D.C. Sort of feels like a second home.”

“I know what you mean,” I said, “It’s the same for me. What type of business are you in, Tiffany, if I may ask?”

She seemed to like the sound of her name on my lips. “Of course, you may,” she cooed, pulling one of her business cards from her handbag to give me.

“Let’s see,” I said, smiling, “Tiffany Brandt, Executive V.P., Winfield Executive Resources, Boston, Massachusetts. I’m impressed.”

“Thank you,” she replied, softly. “I love what I do, how about you?”

“Oh I don’t think I can top that,” I lied, gracing her with a wink. “I’d love to hear more about your recruitment firm. Perhaps we can have our nightcap back at the hotel?”

“I’m game for that,” she said. “The noise level in here seems to be escalating. Your suite or mine?”

“It doesn’t matter,” I replied, signaling for the bar tender to bring my tab. “Wherever you feel more comfortable, Tiffany.”

“How about you come to my suite—it’s 602 in about twenty minutes?”

“Sounds like a plan,” I replied, taking a final swig of my cocktail.

She pulled a pen out of her handbag and wrote “6-0-2” on the back of the business card she’d given me, fearful I might have problems remembering a three-digit number.

“I’ll have a cocktail waiting for you, bourbon, correct?”

“You’re amazing,” I laughed. “Yes, bourbon it is.”

“Alright then. I’ll see you at my place in about twenty.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” I replied, pocketing her business card and handing my credit card to the bartender, who happened to be grinning from ear to ear. Tiffany departed for the hotel, no doubt to order our drinks and to administer a quick douche before my arrival. As if any part of me was planning to head south of her bellybutton, apart from my sheathed cock.

The bartender returned with the register receipt for my signature. “Hey man, I’m sorry, but I just need to ask you something. How’d you manage that?”

“I beg your pardon?” I asked, stuffing my credit card back into my wallet.

“That chick’s been hit on at least four times this evening. I don’t think she had to buy one of her drinks tonight. You show up and in and less than ten minutes, you hook up. I mean, I’m impressed. Feel like sharing your secret?”

I gave him a conciliatory smile, looking at his name tag. “Perhaps it’s just timing, Jeff,” I replied, standing up to leave. “Right now, I have some pussy waiting.”

“Hey,” he called out as I reached the door, “Let me know if she’s a true redhead.” I heard the sound of laughter behind me as the door closed. Men could be pigs sometimes. There was no doubt about that.

Disgusting.

I headed back to my suite at the hotel, the same one I had when Darcy had visited that night. I still had the mental picture of her wearing that sweater and tight “fuck me” skirt, looking as if she was afraid I’d pounce on her the second she made her decision to cross the threshold. She’d looked sweet, vulnerable, and sexy all at once. And completely malleable. My cock twitched at the memory. Darcy was going to be a hard act to follow for any woman and the stunning redhead waiting in “6-0-2” was no exception.

I loosened my tie, pulling it off, tossing it onto the sofa. I reached into the breast pocket of my business shirt and pulled out Tiffany’s business card, staring at it for a moment. Part of me (the part below the belt) wanted to go to her suite in fifteen minutes, knowing it’d probably only take another ten to sink my cock into her and get the relief I desperately craved. Another part of me wasn’t entirely on board with the idea.

I ripped the card into pieces, letting them scatter to the floor. I continued stripping my clothes off, dropping them along the way to the huge bathroom where, in the privacy of the large marble shower, I took things into my own hands.

How fucking pathetic was that?

^{chapter 19}

The following Monday, freshly rested, the new and improved Darcy Sheridan dressed for success at the office. The short, tight, skimpy skirts, the practically see-through gauzy blouses, plunging neckline sweaters and spiked heels were history, as far as my job was concerned. I’d been given an opportunity and I dared anyone there to insinuate it was because I showed ass or cleavage!

I dressed in a heather gray, wool, pencil skirt that fell mid-calf, with a pleat slit in the back that didn’t go up any further than the back of my knee. I wore a black, silk long-sleeved blouse with a collar, leaving only the top button undone. I accessorized with a delicate silver necklace, small silver hoop earrings, and black two-inch pumps, wearing the recommended “nude” color pantyhose. Very professional…trendy yet conservative.

Over the weekend, I’d gone online and found a great web-site for professional women called “professionalimagedress.com” for the latest tips. With my vast wardrobe, it’d actually been difficult to find the proper length skirt. So a shopping trip was in order to purchase a few appropriate items of business attire. I pulled my hair back into a low ponytail as the site indicated, stating it provided an air of professionalism for those with long locks, and was less distracting. I was good to go!

Eli did a double-take when I came downstairs before he had left to meet his friends at Starbucks.

“You didn’t tell me you got another job already. A library or museum, I’m guessing by the looks of your ensemble. Ann Klein?”

“Oh bite me, Eli. This is a new chapter in my book. I intend to be professional just like you suggested and that includes wardrobe.”

“Sweetie, last I heard, you didn’t work in a convent,” he chuckled. “Why are you up so early, anyway?”

“I think it shows commitment on my part to go beyond the call of duty, you know? I mean, I don’t want to be labeled as an ‘8 to 5-er’ by my colleagues.”

“They wouldn’t dare,” he said, feigning anger. “Everyone knows you’re more like an ‘8:15-8:30ish to 4:45’ chick.”

“Oh, you’re on top of your game this morning, Eli. Go ahead, though. You’ll see I’m serious about this, especially with my new position.”

Shit!

“What new position?”

“Oh, well that’s the reason Easton wanted to take me to dinner last night. He has an opportunity for me at work. Since Lacee’s now Team Leader, he wants me to assume her former position as his executive assistant.”

“Really?” he said, eyeing me warily. “What will your new job duties entail, exactly?”

“I know what you’re thinking. I thought the same thing and made sure we got that out in the open. I made myself perfectly clear on that matter, and he understood, though of course, he was disappointed.”

“Uh-huh,” he said, shaking his head.

“What? I did!”

“Oh, I’m sure you did, but come on, don’t be naïve, Darce. Easton Matthews is a master at getting what he wants, otherwise he wouldn’t be where he is today. Do you really think he’s content with having just a business relationship with you after you and he did the dirty deed over a six-hour period?”

“First of all, it was a
five-and-a-half-hour
period. Second of all, Easton Matthews doesn’t have a problem in the free
world
getting any woman he wants into bed. He as much as told me he won’t be lonely in the sack when I made it clear there’d be no more—well, you know.”

“Uh-huh,” he repeated, this time with an eye roll. “Let me ask you this: is there a pay increase involved?”

“A slight one,” I lied, quickly adding, “The important thing isn’t salary, but the opportunities to learn from the best, to carve my career path with a clear vision of my growth potential.”

“Okay, really? I just vomited in my mouth,” Eli said, giving me a look of absolute and incredulous disgust. Once he got his natural facial features back to normal, he gave me the ol’ best-friend look and sighed. “Just be careful, okay? That’s all I’m gonna say. The dude has ulterior motives—and before you get all pissy, the answer’s yes.”

“Yes to what?”

“Yes, I think you’re smart and capable of being groomed for that position, and for that matter, have the potential for going as high as you want within any company. Just please make sure you don’t pay a price at BS.”

“BS?”

“Baronton-Sheridan, that’s what we all decided to call it since the new name’s too much of a mouthful and sounds pretentious. Hey, how about that? I just drew a nice parallel, didn’t I?”

“What do you mean?” I asked, furrowing my eyebrow in confusion.