The Poison Morality (9 page)

Declan sat in his office chair, admiring the spectacular view of the city.  His window across from the Gherkin building with its blue glass, the busy streets down below; yes he was high above it, them, everyone.  He leaned back with hands behind his head and stretched his legs out in front of him.  His success was a struggle but now that he arrived he felt like a god.  He had what he wanted, when he wanted, and who he wanted. 

He turned when the raised female voices and commotion caught his attention.  Josie opened the door, “I’m sorry sir, I….”

But she was interrupted by the woman with long dark hair and dark eyes piercing standing beside her.  Her jacket was open to her breasts, teasing with the red lace semi sheer top.  His smile dropped when he saw the girl from memory, unmistakably, in the woman.

“Don’t worry,” she smiled at Josie, “he knows me, sort of.”  Her left hand tickled as she brushed Josie’s hair back, exposing her neck, “She’s lovely Declan,” tilting her head towards him.  “And I bet he appreciates you when he kisses those ruby lips,” she said running a finger across Josie’s bottom lip and then placing the colour on her own bottom lip and then pressing them together.  “I would appreciate a gorgeous thing like you.  Is he good to you, does he treat you with the respect you deserve,” she slid a hand down the woman’s side and back up stopping just under her breast, “Cause I most definitely would.”

“Declan!,” Josie yelled agitated that he had not come between her and this stranger that had barged in but seemed to be enjoying the spectacle.

“Oh
Declan
, is it?  Then you are intimate,” she kissed Josie’s cheek and Josie couldn’t hide her quickness of breath, “you can go now but I will see you later.”

Declan watched the woman he recognized as his stepdaughter cross the room confidently and drop into the chair uninvited.  “You should pour us a drink.”  He stood, amused, and walked over to the sideboard and poured a scotch for each of them and the door finally shut behind them when he waved Josie away.

“You turned out all right then,” he handed her the drink and she crinkled her nose at his choice of alcohol but sipped it anyway.

“If you’re trying to justify what you did by my appearance of being ‘all right’, you can stop right there.  Actually, we’re quite twisted,” she cleared her throat, “you and I.  In fact and that’s why I’m here.  In a warped sort of way I need your help.”

He sipped from the glass and put it down, resting his elbows on the desk, his fingertips pressed together looking at her sceptically.

She stood and put a piece of folded paper in front of him.  “This is a list, I need to find them,” tapping the paper.

Taking his time, he sipped, looking over the rim of the glass, the ice made a tinkling sound.  After reading the contents of the paper, “Then find them, I haven’t seen them since… in years,” he tossed it with a flick of his wrist.

“I have looked for them; I can’t find them which is why I came to you,” she looked down at her own glass and placed it on the desk unfinished.  Declan poured the contents into his glass as she continued.  No need wasting perfectly good scotch.

He laughed with a “ha” but she raised an eyebrow. “You’re serious?” he sat back in his chair, assuming she had an ulterior motive. 

“Relax,” she propped one leg up and sat on the desk, “there’s no need to give you money and then take it away.  I need your help and whatever I will have on you, you will have on me.”

“So you’re going to pay me to find them and what?  Just tell you where they are?”  His voice became low and harsh, eyes squinting.

“Ah, and your silence, of course,” she slid off the desk.

“For the money, I’ll find them but it won’t buy my silence,” he stared up at her hungrily, his finger rubbing his bottom lip.

She put both hands on the desk and leaned over so that her face was a few inches from his, flashing her cleavage. “As I see it, you owe us.”

“My silence comes at a price, agree to pay it or leave,” his eyes diverted to her breasts.  The reaction was exactly as she hoped.

“Alright then, I’ll give you the adult version of what you had before.  Or am I too old for you?”

Declan looked at her tits, licking his lips, “So have I created a monster then?”  She just scowled at him instead of answering.  He sat back in the chair, “And what are you planning on doing to them once I find them?”

“It will just be a little money exchanging hands, that’s all.  This time I get what’s due to me and you get paid a second time.”

“Before I agree, what are the terms?”

Josie strained to hear at the door but she only caught enough words to not make sense of anything being said.  The woman was intriguing.  Josie touched her lip wondering what it would be like to be kissed by a woman.  After Declan’s groping, a gentler hand might be nice.

The brunette walked out the door nearly knocking Josie over because of her eavesdropping.  She reached a hand and cupped Josie’s cheek, winking at her, and strutting to the lift. 

***

After everyone had gone, he swivelled around to look at Josie, typing away outside, her long red hair fallen thick on her shoulders, blouse buttoned to her neck, but he knew what she really was.  Fiery, ambitious, and willing to do anything he asked of her when he dangled a promotion in her face.   She was a hot little number in her tight skirt, showing him her cleavage every time she bent over to put files or coffee on his desk. After she mentioned wanting him to take her out, he knew he would have to put in for her transfer soon.  Glancing up at him she winked, that was her signal that in a few minutes, when everyone had gone home she would be in his office, door shut, and wanting.

He turned back to the sunset, waiting, already hard when he heard the door shut and the lock clicking.  “Is everyone gone?” he asked, facing her. 

“I don’t know.  That’s why I locked the door.  I couldn’t wait any longer,” she said sauntering towards him, unbuttoning her blouse, letting it drop to the floor.  She could still feel the woman’s hand brushing her side and her lip.  Her red bra pushed her tits up, teasing him.  He stood up and took his blazer off and then his tie, and unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt.  However, this time she didn’t unzip her skirt and let it drop but walked to him and pushed his chest, indicating he should sit again.

“I should have showed you earlier,” she pushed him back down in his chair, placing her four inch heels on the arms and widening her knees, giving him full view up her skirt.

“Show me what?” Declan slid his hands slowly up her thighs, past the top of her stockings and around her bare hips, pulling her skirt up as he did so revealing nothing underneath. 

He licked his lips hungrily, “You took my suggestion.”  He stood and kissed her deeply, his hands slid back in between her thighs but her knees slammed shut on him, locking his hands.  He could feel the warmth there, beckoning for him but her thighs squeezed, he was amused.

“Did you fuck her,” she asked, leaning back on her palms, thrusting her tits in his face.

Declan smirked at her, she wanted to take control of the situation, that’s not how it worked and he was agitated that she was withholding sex to get what she wanted.  He was the one with the power here.  “No, I would rather you did and let me watch.”  His face was close to hers, he moved forward teasing her lips with his.

“Oh I bet you would,” her hand groped the front of his trousers.

One forceful push and he thrust her legs open, stepped between her legs and grabbed her wrists.  With the sudden loss of her props, she fell backwards, her wrists pinned to the desk.  Startled in that moment she accidentally pushed the chair away with her feet, losing all leverage.

There it is he thought to himself.  Eyes wide with surprise, the twisting of her hands to try to get free, he put one hand around her throat, easily pinning both of her arms to the desk with one of his.  Elevated heart rate, fear materialized, created by him, an animal trapping its beautiful prey.  Josie panted and opened her mouth to speak but Declan squeezed her throat a little more.  “I want you to do something for me,” he eased his grip but still held her there.

The more she twisted the higher her skirt climbed up her thighs, her heels kicked against his shins but the pain fuelled him on.  “What do you want,” she asked her futile struggling subsided.

“I’ll tell you after.” His hard on pressed against his zipper.  Her glossy red lips open, beckoning for more air and kisses.  He unzipped his pants and pushed all the way inside her in one thrust and then all the way out and all the way in and stopped.  Her hips raised to bring him inside and he started thrusting, she slid backwards, her skirt making it easy to slide on the glass covering the desk top until he let her wrists go, wrapping his arms under her shoulders, his hands pushing down on them so she no longer moved.  She tried to play the victim but her body responded differently, allowing his entry easily.  What her body told him on the inside contradicted what it was telling him on the outside. 

The sensation was strong but she was not as aroused by this show he put on.  He had never been so ruthless before.  Once he came, she faked her orgasm.  He knew she faked it, which was the plan, leaving her frustrated.

Declan pulled away from her, raising his trousers up but didn’t bother to do them.  The straps of her heels came off easily and fell to the floor.  In turn, he kissed each of her ankles, her feet rested against his shoulders, his hands caressing her calves. 

Josie remained still, confused by what he was doing; now he was doing the foreplay?  There was something erotic about that.  He took her and now he was being sweet.  He always surprised her, made her addicted to the kind of sex he gave which always depended on his mood.

His mouth trailed kisses over her shins, nibbling her knees and then his fingers were inside her, moving in circles slowly and purposefully, finding the g-spot that no one ever found before including him.  “There’s something I need you to do for me, a mission,” he kissed her thighs.

“Um hmmm,” she agreed.  “Yes,” she asked breathlessly, eyes closed, head back.

His thumb started to manipulate the outside as his fingers worked inside her and when he could feel the tightening muscles and she started with the little cries in the back of her throat signalling she was close, he stopped moving.  She whimpered, moving her own hips, squeezing his fingers to try to get release. Whispering in her ear, he told her what he wanted her to do.  Spy, he had told her.  Take a few photos, follow, he told her.  “Simple, yes?”

Her brows furrowed together confused but before she could ask why he said, “I’ll finish you off if you agree.” Her hand grabbed his wrist giving him his answer.

“I’ll do it, for you,” and he massaged the g-spot and clit together and she came and while she still convulsed, the wetness sliding down his fingers, he pulled out of her and wiped her off his hand with a handkerchief.

He wasn’t too keen on the last part she said, to do it for him, he just wanted her to do it.  “She’ll be here tomorrow.  I want you to go when she leaves.”  He went to a cabinet and set a camera beside her.  She was still recovering from her climax, having reached it but he stopped before she was completely through it.  The tinkling of the ice in the glass and a drink in hand was her signal that he was done with her.

She lingered however, adjusting her clothes and picking up her shoes by the straps.  The camera seemed ominous, “I’ve never done what you’re asking before.”

“Do what I ask and you’ll be rewarded,” he walked to her, kissed her cheek and gave her a slight push towards the door.

“I heard about the child,” Mary said, turning off the telly when Oliver came in.

“Yes, it’s sad but at least he’s not suffering anymore.”  That thought was the only thing that made his job easier.

“Lucky boy, but those parents will probably suffer for the rest of their lives,” she got a distant look, eyes glassy.

“There’s another son and they can have more.  They’re young and seem to be healthy.”

“That’s what a man would say.  Ask the parents in a few years and the man would agree with that, the woman,” Mary shook her head, “wouldn’t want a replacement but she might have one for her husband, just to please him.  She will love it but part of her love died with that child,” she sighed.  “I’m speculating of course, people are different.  Women do have a tendency to do strange things for men.” 

Oliver fidgeted with the sheet and blanket, tucking in the corners and checking the small water pitcher, it was full.  Was she speaking from experience?  “What if the woman is already strange?”

Mariella tried to laugh, “That just makes her more interesting.” Mary started heaving and Oliver held the bowl for her, holding the thin hair away from her face with one hand.  When she was done vomiting, he helped wipe her face, giving her water to rinse her mouth.

Jacki, passing by, heard her, and came in, glaring at Oliver.  He rolled his eyes at her, handed her the bowl and ordered her to get Mariella an ice pop just to get her to leave. 

“Oh I can’t take this chemo, Dr. Oliver.  It’s like every hangover I ever had merged into one.”

Oliver thought she was crying but she was just weak and shaky, “It will get easier.  If your cancer goes into remission, it will get easier,” he helped her lay back when Jacki came in holding the ice pop out to him wrapper still on.

“It’s not for me, nurse,” she jerked the wrapper off and held it for Mary to take from her.  She did, but only licked it a few times and sat holding it until it started to melt so Oliver took it and threw it away.  Holding her hand, his thumb brushed back and forth across her fingers.  They sat in silence for a while, her breathing shallow, she stared at the ceiling.

Then out of nowhere, she voiced what she was quietly contemplating, “You know, as parents we aren’t… supposed to choose favourites in our children but sometimes it just happens.  Especially when the child picks you as the favourite parent, then we tell ourselves it’s because
they
chose.”  Her breathing became laboured but Oliver didn’t interrupt or comment hoping she would come around to the daughter and where she was or how to contact her.  “But,” she sank into the pillows, closing her eyes, “you still feel guilty anyway and maybe if I chose the other one, I wouldn’t have lost so much.”

“The other one?  You have more than one?”

Not answering him, she continued with her thought, “Ian might still be alive too if I had chosen differently or if she had not chosen me as her favourite.”  On the edge of sleep she smiled, a memory no doubt surfacing.

“Is Ian your son?”

But she didn’t answer, just soft snoring, and an occasional grin.