Chapter 3 Out of her element

Chapter 3

Smith

I take a swig of the whiskey and feel the liquid blaze down my throat. This thing fucking burns. It's just what I need tonight.

With Pop in the hospital, I have to do all his work, including the kind that blurs the line between business and pleasure.

When Sandra told me I had to attend a party, at the mansion of a supplier for one of our companies, I knew I was in for a boring evening. Not that I spend my time doing anything more exciting-the opposite, in fact. I prefer to stay back at the office and get some actual work done. But I know Pop would tell me social functions are important work as well, so here I am.

It's been one week since Pop had that mean angina attack. He's going home soon. I've hired someone to look after him-remind him to take his medication at the right times, advise him on his diet, maybe even get him to exercise a little, that kind of thing.

He's getting better, which is good, but I wish he'd get better more quickly so I could go back to visiting our out-of-state and international partners in person, rather than being stuck with video calls that lag and freeze every few seconds.

Without close supervision, they gain the power to screw us over behind our backs. Sure, they may continue to behave out of the goodness of their hearts, but why risk it?

I nod and wave back at a man who's now approaching the bar. Josh Graham, the son of my Uncle Princewill . Josh's not a cousin, though; he's just an acquaintance because we're not actually related. Uncle Princewill used to work for my grandfather and has continued to stay with the family after my grandfather's death.

"How about the girls, huh?" Josh grins as he takes a seat beside me at the bar. "Barkeep! One glass of whatever you have on tap!" Josh snaps his fingers.

The bartender scowls, but Josh doesn't notice. He's already busy ogling the waitresses passing by in their little lingerie. They all wear ridiculously high heels that push their tits and ass out.

One of the girls smiles when she notices Josh staring. She saunters over and holds out her tray, while also pushing her tits forward. Giving Josh a flirty smile, she asks, "See anything you want, Sir?"

"Yes, but it's not anything on the tray." Josh smiles back at the waitress and raises his eyebrows once.

The waitress giggles and slaps Josh lightly on the arm. "Oh, you," she says.

Jesus, this is painful to watch.

I down the remaining whiskey and slam the crystal glass down on the bar, making both Josh and the girl jump from the sudden noise.

"I have to go." Without waiting for a reply, I walk away.

Fucking Josh. I had a perfectly nice spot where I was relatively safe from the crowd, and he had to invade it. That's just like him. There's more than one bar in this big mansion, but of course he had to seek me out and take over my bar.

I can't sit there and watch him awkwardly flirt with a girl. Josh has no game, but he doesn't know it. Girls are only with him because of his family's money.

I can tell because I know the signs of a gold digger. I've been dealing with them since I was old enough to notice girls. They're always throwing themselves at me but I'm not interested in being their chump, so I steer clear of them.

If they want my money, then they have to be my employees. I'm their boss and they have to do as I say or get fired. I have to protect myself, so I want things spelled out in legal documents, signed by all parties involved.

This has narrowed down my options to women who expect some form of payment for their services, women who want something other than just the pleasure of my companionship.

But I don't mind. I actually prefer it this way, so everyone knows exactly what to expect from each other. It's better than the alternative.

I wouldn't want to be Josh when the waitress is done with him. I don't particularly like Josh, but I can tell he thinks that girl actually likes him. It's never a pleasant thing to discover the truth, to find out you're just being used as a tool for buying designer stuff and climbing up the social ranks.

I wander the hallways aimlessly, letting the alcohol seep into my system, keeping a brisk pace to avoid being stopped for pointless conversations. My shoes sink into the plush carpet underfoot. The paintings hanging on the walls blur past.

That's when I see her.

She has her back to me, but she feels familiar. That honey-brown ponytail that's just asking to be wrapped around my hand and pulled. That full ass that begs to be spanked until it's red hot. I knew she'd look good out of her scrubs.

She's holding her tray of canapés for two young jocks who are taking way more time than necessary to pick out their appetizers. I can't tell what they're saying, but I can see them openly ogling her, like Josh did to the waitress from before. They're staring at her tits, slowly moving closer until she's backed away, flush against the wall. She's trapped now and probably won't escape without suffering a group or two.

Many of the men are doing the exact same thing to other waitresses. That's the whole point of having scantily clad young girls strut their stuff at a party like this.

But for some reason, seeing her being treated like one of those girls-which she is-makes my blood boil.

I clear my throat to get their attention. "Waitress," I call out. "Come here."

The jocks turn around to glare at me. One of them looks like he's about to fight me, but his friend pulls him back and says something in a low voice. He probably knows who I am. Getting on my bad side is not a good idea for anyone who does business in this city.

The two guys walk away, leaving me alone with the nurse from St. Peter's Hospital I met last week.

She's looking at me now, apprehension flashing in her green eyes, which look unnaturally intense tonight from the heavy make-up. She recognizes me, and she realizes she has just escaped the frying pan only to fall into the fire.

"I said come here. You work here, don't you? The customer is king. Haven't you heard that?" I could step closer to close the gap between us, but that wouldn't be any fun. She knows she has to do as I say, and I want to watch the fight die within her, see the moment when she gives up and follows my order.

She hesitates. She's lost her balance from having tried to back away from the two jocks, and it doesn't look as if she's used to the high heels either, or the lack of actual clothes.

Like the other girls, she's wearing a black bra, a pair of lacy panties, and black garters that hold up her sheer black stockings. Unlike the other girls, she looks uncomfortable in them.

She's out of her element, just like she was at the hospital when she had to obey me instead of the hospital rules. This means I've got her right where I want her.

"Did you hear me, or do I have to tell the host you can't do your job?" I give her a sharp stare, and she glowers at me in response, even though her full lips, which are painted red tonight, remain tightly zipped.

She regains her composure. She starts to walk closer, teetering on her shoes, which exaggerate the sway of her full hips.

She has cute, perky tits, but it's the way her slender waist flares out into those hips and ass that gets me. I could just imagine my fingers digging into her waist as I bent her over and pulled her back against me, impaling her on me again and again. My cock stirs in my pants.

I don't know what it is about her, but every little move she makes amuses me. Maybe it's just refreshing to see a girl not kissing my ass. She puts up a bit of a fight, which makes it more satisfying when her resolve crumbles, when she inevitably has to do my bidding.

She stops a couple of feet away from me and shoves the tray full of the usual party finger foods between us without a word.

"Aren't you going to ask if I want some canapés?" I trap her gaze and watch as the fire burns within.

"You already asked me to come here. You obviously want them," she says in a clipped tone. She's trying to stay polite, despite her anger.

"Maybe all I want is for you to come closer."

"I'm already close enough. Now, if there's nothing else, I have other guests to serve."

"I don't see anyone else around here." I look around to emphasize my point. This is a large mansion, and most of the guests are lounging by the swimming pool. This hallway is deserted. "And aren't you supposed to address me more politely?"

"If there's nothing else, I'd like to go where the other guests are, Sir," she repeats herself, adding the honorific at the end begrudgingly.

Interesting.

When faced with the choice between obeying me and losing her job, she chooses the option that makes her money, even if she has to sacrifice a little dignity doing so. This girl has a price, just like everybody else.

What makes her interesting is how much she seems to resent that, and how openly she displays that resentment. She's transparent.

I'd love to see her genuine reactions to my hands all over her, my fingers inside her. Fuck, I'd love to spread her legs and plunge balls deep inside her. I'd watch her face as I do, her lips parting in lust to let a breathy moan escape, her eyes begging for more even if she doesn't want to say it.

"Oh, but there is something else. I'm sure you'll want to hear this," I say.

She continues to look back into my eyes with defiance, not knowing I'm going to crush that disobedience out of her.

I'm not done with her. Far from it. She's wrong if she thinks she's going to walk away just like that