Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Romantic, Lesbian, Heterosexual, DomSub, Rough, .
Desc: Sex Story: Chapter 1 - This is a continuation in time of events begun in "Call Girls". The banker who sold the Illinois Technologies demand note for $20 million, is faced with the same choice: pay her own demand note or become Janice's slave. The action takes place over the subsequent nine months.
It was a lovely day in May in Chicago. Janice Stewart, Jennifer Chapman, and their mother, Allison Clifford, entered the headquarters of Chicago Trust Company. Formerly one of the most conservative banks in the country, Chicago Trust had an old-line clientèle composed of high-net-worth individuals and corporate customers. For nearly ten years, though, it had been under new management. Because the management had vowed "to get the bank moving again," the bank's personality had changed dramatically. Although total assets had increased enormously, profits were down sharply. It was Chicago Trust that had sold the Illinois Technologies note to Hugo Bingham who was now on his way to a Federal penitentiary.
The three women were stunning. They were all very tall: Ali and Jennifer were five feet eight, while Janice was an inch taller. They all had golden hair, beautiful blue eyes, and magnificent slender figures. All were impeccably dressed and appeared wealthy. They were. Allison was married to Bill Clifford whose net worth was well over $4 billion and rising fast; Jennifer, in addition to being the Clifford's daughter, was married to Steve Chapman whose father was number eight on the Forbes list. Janice had recently been adopted as the Clifford's daughter and as a result was now also very rich.
Jan opened the door for the others. "Mom, why do you suppose I'm looking forward to this so much? Am I a sadist, do you suppose?"
"No, dear. You're a girl who was made to suffer inhuman mental torment because some idiots in this institution became so greedy they forgot some basic principles of banking." Then she grinned at the others and said, "Well, shall we have some fun?"
The three walked to the elevator bank and went up to the executive floor. Going up to the receptionist Ali said, "Mrs. Clifford and daughters to see Mr. Horace Paterson, please." Paterson was the chairman and chief executive of the bank. It was under his régime that the bank had changed its character so dramatically.
The receptionist was used to overawing visitors but swallowed hard as she looked at the three women standing in front of her desk. Although she did not identify the Clifford name, it was obvious that money was dripping from these women. She smiled faintly and called Paterson's office. Quickly and as quietly as possible she explained to his secretary that the chairman had visitors who appeared to be important. The secretary buzzed the chairman who happened to be in his office and relayed the story. The Clifford name rang a faint bell in the back of his mind, but he couldn't place it either. He told his secretary to bring them back to his office.
Paterson came out from behind his desk to greet the women. He was astounded by their appearance; he had never seen three more beautiful women in his life. Paterson was a tall distinguished-looking man with silver-gray hair. He was the personification of the dignified banker and liked to think of himself as a lady's man. Preening like a peacock, he greeted them effusively. They took seats in front of his desk while his secretary disappeared to get coffee. They exchanged pleasantries while they waited for it.
"Now what may I do for you lovely ladies this morning?" Paterson asked after the coffee was served.
Ali Clifford smiled warmly and replied, "You can vacate your office immediately."
Paterson was stunned. He couldn't reconcile the warm smile with the harsh words. "I beg your pardon? What did you say?"
"I said you can vacate your office immediately. You see, Mr. Paterson, you're no longer chairman of this bank. Or you won't be this afternoon after a special election of directors is held."
He couldn't believe his ears. "Madam, surely you're joking! What's this nonsense about a special election? We had our annual meeting almost two months ago."
"That's true, Mr. Paterson. However, the election of directors took place before we bought the bank." Ali smiled brightly and added, "Why don't you ask the corporate secretary to check with your stock-transfer agent? I think he will find that there are three families that now own virtually all of it." She looked at Jan and said, "Jan, you're the finance whiz. How much do we own?"
"Mom, you and Dad own 51 percent, the senior Chapmans own 20 percent, Pete and I only have five ... And Mom, it's not fair! Why do Jen and Steve have ten? Oh! Chip and Connie have 10 percent, too. But we don't really own the bank. There's still nearly 4 percent outstanding. For example, I think Mr. Paterson owns half a percentage point or something like that." She looked over and smiled brightly at Paterson who had turned gray, "I'm sorry, sir. I rounded off the numbers, but I didn't think you cared about hundredths of a percentage point."
Suddenly, Horace Paterson, who had turned pale at Jan's recital, brightened visibly. He had just remembered his golden parachute. The agreement had been ratified at the annual meeting; it would pay him nearly $10 million. "I guess I don't have much to say then, except good day. When will I receive my check?"
Ali appeared to look puzzled but she knew exactly what he meant. She replied, "Your check? Oh! Of course! You must be thinking about that silly severance agreement, aren't you? I'm terribly sorry. It doesn't apply. You see, Mr. Paterson, your termination is for cause. It's to save the institution a great deal of money that would otherwise have to be paid for massive lender-liability damages."
She brightened again and said, "Of course, you could assert your rights." Her face fell again. "But that wouldn't be too smart. You see, as chairman and chief executive, you would be personally named. In the transaction in question you expressly signed off on the arrangements."
Paterson was baffled and scared. He didn't know what this woman was talking about. To temporize he picked up the phone and called the corporate secretary. The women looked at one another with their eyes sparkling. From the way his face was turning gray again, he was obviously hearing about the new share ownership of the bank. When he hung up the phone, his hand was visibly shaking. "What's this nonsense about a lender-liability action? Whose action?"
"Mine, Mr. Paterson," Jan answered quietly. "You see, I am vice president and half-owner of Illinois Technologies. We borrowed $20 million on a demand note from this bank for new tooling. Although our credit is impeccable, you sold the note to Homer Bingham, then the chairman of Argus Computing and our principal competitor. Bingham will testify that he told you he was intending to call the note immediately in spite of it being fully current and in conformance with all of its loan covenants.
"The reason I know this is it cost him money and he's still a little pissed off at you. He offered you a 10 percent premium on the note, but when you learned he intended to call it you held out for twenty. He paid it, but he didn't like it. Bingham is now on his way to Federal prison, as you probably know.
"You see, Mr. Paterson, he wanted me to be his slave. There is a certain amount of mental anguish to which my mother and sister, as well as others, can — and will — testify. Are you sure you want to contest our action? It could get quite expensive, as well as quite painful. You see, I am prepared to initiate a criminal complaint against you, as well. Mom, isn't it 'Federal conspiracy involving white slavery, ' among other things?"
"Yes, dear. Of course the list of criminal complaints could be quite long. You see, Mr. Paterson, Bingham is prepared to testify that you knew of his plans. That would make you an accessory before the fact, which, in turn, would make you a principal in his crimes. You know where he's now going. Do you wish to push your luck?"
Paterson had one slim hope and he tried it. "But Mrs. Clifford, I had no idea Mrs. Stewart was your daughter! She was just a prostitute. Why should I care?"
Ali just shook her head sadly. "Please look at Janice, Mr. Paterson. Yes, she was a prostitute. However, she's also the sweetest, kindest, most loving, most considerate person it has ever been my good fortune to meet. For that reason my husband and I adopted her as our daughter last month. You're familiar with the name, David Chapman, perhaps? I believe he may be the wealthiest man in Chicago. My daughter, Jennifer, is Dave's daughter-in-law. He and his wife, Judy, love Jan almost as much as they love Jennifer. Now, Mr. Paterson, what are you going to do?"
"Resign?" he said with the question obvious in his voice.
"That's a wonderful idea!" Jennifer said. "Mom, you have the paper for him to sign, don't you?"
Ali reached into her thin portfolio and pulled out a letter. She quickly checked to ensure it was the correct one then passed it to Paterson. He read it quickly and signed. His secretary was asked to witness his signature. As they looked at him, he appeared to be on the verge of a heart attack or a stroke. Sweat was pouring off his brow as he looked up. "Is there anything else?"
"As a matter of fact, no. You're excused. If you don't mind, we will use your office. You may take any personal things with you now, if you wish," Ali replied.
Paterson took some items from his desk drawer, put them into his attaché case, and hurriedly left the office.
His secretary, Mary Thomas, was standing in the office looking completely dumfounded. Ali introduced herself and the girls, then said, "Mary, my daughter, Jennifer, will be the new chairman, at least for the time being. I think there are some things she would like you to do."
Mary looked at Jen who said, "Mary, I believe there's a vice president here in the bank named Cynthia Martin. Would you see if she's in the bank today? Then I believe there's another senior lending officer named Donald Martin. If he's in, would you ask him to come up right away?"
Moments later the phone buzzed. Cynthia Martin was in the bank and Mr. Martin was on his way up. Mary also reported diffidently that Cynthia had been elected a senior vice president at the Annual Meeting. A few minutes later she ushered in a tall man whom she introduced as Donald Martin. The women introduced themselves and the four took seats around a conference table in the office.
Jennifer began: "Mr. Martin, I am the new chairman of Chicago Trust Company. Frankly, we don't like the way the bank has been run for the last ten years or so ever since Mr. Paterson arrived here. He resigned this morning and his resignation has been accepted. Mr. Martin, what's your title in the bank?"
Don Martin was stunned. He had spent his entire working life at Chicago Trust Company and had been a senior vice president and lending officer when Paterson was brought in. As a result of fighting against his changes, he had been demoted and was now only a vice president. The only reason he had not been fired was there were still a number of wealthy customers who had made it very clear that if Don Martin left, they would leave, too. He replied, "I am a vice president, Mrs. Chapman."
Jen smiled her brilliant sunshine smile. Don thought she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Then he looked at the other two and was not so sure, but decided he liked her very much.
She said, "Don ... May I call you Don? Or do you prefer Donald... ? As of now, you are president and chief executive officer. Your first job will be to tell the former president that he is the former president. Will you accept the position?"
He just shook his head in utter amazement. He couldn't believe this change in fortune and then could only nod dumbly. Finally, he was able to ask, "What do you want me to do? And almost everyone calls me Don."
Jen smiled and asked, "First, how do you think this bank should be run?"
"A bank makes money by offering facilities to its customers. We have ... had ... an excellent customer base. We should try to take care of their financial requirements the best way we can. I don't mean we will always offer the lowest rates, but we must always be competitive. That means that sometimes we will be the lowest; other times we won't. I don't think we should try to match other banks' promotional specials, for example. I think the whole concept is dumb.
"On the other hand, we must manage for low total costs. All we have is fee income and our net interest margin. That's not really a big spread to work on. What we must do is ensure a base of quality customers and then back those customers with top-quality service."
Then he looked at Janice and said, "Pardon me, but did I hear your name correctly? Janice Stewart?" Jan nodded and smiled. His face turned sad. "Mrs. Stewart, I would like to apologize on behalf of the bank. I only learned what had happened after it was all over. What this institution did was an utter disgrace! I haven't spoken to my daughter since."
Jan was startled and asked, "Is Cynthia Martin your daughter?"
"Yes, she is. I told her she should resign from the bank rather than allow a customer's note to be sold at all, let alone on the terms she knew existed. Instead, she was promoted." He smiled wryly. "She outranks me now. Or she did until a couple of minutes ago."
Jan carefully explained what was planned for Cynthia. As she did, she was watching the girl's father carefully. When she had fully explained her plan, he understood what was in store for Cynthia and he smiled sadly. When she finished he said, "I don't know whether it will kill her or cure her, Mrs. Stewart, but I guess I don't care which it is. Go to it!"
Jan smiled her own sunshine smile and said, "Mr. Martin, I wish you would call me Janice, or, better yet, Jan. Everyone does."
He returned the smile and said, "Fine, Jan, but only on the condition you call me Don. Now if you will excuse me, I think I am going to have a busy day. I will ask Mary to send Cynthia up here.