The office lobby was dark and that suited me. Outside the rain hammered against the glass doors, beyond that, nothing. Nothing until the blackness was filled Susan's silhouette. Her sodden clothes and hair flat against her skin, accentuating the hard lines of her face and body. I opened the door and as she entered, the wind drawing back down the street, rather than follow her in. She could only be in her twenties, but already the tattoo on her arm had faded. Her black dufflebag thumped down on the worn carpet and she finished her cigarette, toeing it out on the carpet. 'You got the photos?'
I nodded, 'The bitch is all alone up there on the Partner's Floor.'
She grunted, pushing past me to the lifts, shouting back for me to bring her bag.
Up on the Partner's floor, the thick carpet and teak muffled all noise to an appropriate level of respect. Normally bustling with minions eager to help the occupants of these select offices, it was deserted now. My stomach knotted as we reached Ms Smithson's door. Susan just smiled and strolled into the office as if she were entering a pub.
'Well well.' Susan said, taking a good look. 'So this is the marvellous office you're so proud of.' She looked around the large room, which didn't suffer from the drab grey-brown paint of the open plan offices below. Expensive ambient lighting instead of flickering neon and curtains that didn't move every time there was a breeze outside.
'What the devil are you doing here?'
'Well that's no way to greet your favourite sister-in-law is it.' Susan replied, resting her hands on the other side of a desk big enough to lie spread-eagled on and not be able to touch both sides.
I closed the thick oak door behind me. It thudded into the frame like a carved block of granite. The lock was equally as sturdy. No one was going to disturb us.
As I turned back to the two women. Ms Smithson was looking at me as if I'd just rolled in something. 'What's he doing here?'
Without warning, Susan began to unbutton her blouse.
'What on earth do you think you're doing?'
'I've decided to teach you a lesson Helen.' She threw the photos onto the table. Now if you want these photos, take off your clothes.'
Ms Smithson looked at the photos. 'A Christmas peck on the cheek, that's all.' She sighed theatrically. 'How much money do you want?'
'Not everything is about your precious money Helen.' She let her blouse fall to the floor and began to unbutton her jeans.
'Really? Then you have changed your tune.' She stood and tried to look in control, but the usually smooth Ms Smithson, with her wry smile just wasn't there.
'This is about Jed.' Susan said as she pulled her legs out of the jeans.
'Jed? I thought he'd seen sense and dumped you.'
'You told him that the last man I dated ended up in hospital with his dick in a cool box.' She stood there in just her bra and knickers, which were as sodden as the rest of her clothes, the white cotton transparent where it stretched across her skin.
'Why don't you ask the rest of your shitty little family where he got that from? Which by the way is the truth, isn't it?'
'Ken will divorce you and leave you with nothing Helen. You know that as well as I do. He'll make sure you never work again and I'll make sure that the windows of whatever hovel you end up in are never left unbroken. You'll never know who'll climb through them.'
Ms Smithson knew that these were no idle threats. Mr Smithson was as ruthless as they come, and you only had to look at Susan, stood there, hard as hell itself, to know that she was cast from the same mould. Susan retrieved her trousers and started to put them on. 'Have it your way'.
'No wait.' Ms Smithson stole a look at me.' He leaves.'
Susan knelt and retrieved an envelope from her bag, tossing it on the desk. 'Every copy is there. It's yours once you show me you're the same as the rest of us. Come on Helen, we're in your territory, your marriage is on the rocks. Are you really that precious?'
'You'll be history soon anyway Simon.' She took off her jacket and her crisp white blouse followed, revealing a black lace bra. She stepped out of her shoes and hesitated for a moment, looking again to Susan to measure the need for this. Susan starred back impassively, the faintest of smiles cutting her face. The black cotton skirt followed, leaving her only the scant protection of her bra and matching knickers. She stood there in her pool of outer garments, her body in stark contrast to Susan's. Soft rounded lines and unblemished creamy skin, unblemished that was except for a crescent shaped birthmark below her left breast.
I almost told her to undo that tight bun her hair was always trapped by, never a lock permitted to stray. But then Susan unstrapped her bra, not that her tiny breasts needed any support. Then she unclipped the side fastenings to her knickers and let them fall to the floor, revealing a Brazilian wax that would make the hardiest of fashion models wince. 'If you want the photos then you'll follow suit.' She said.
Ms Smithson's face remained impassive as slowly she reached behind and undid her bra, placing it before her on the desk, ready to pick up again as quickly as possible. She paused and took another look at Susan. 'I don't think I'm better than you.'
'Then you won't mind stripping will you.'
She hooked her thumbs into her knickers and pulled them down, blushing horribly. Careful that neither of them saw me, I reached across the front of my trousers to readjust myself.
'That's good Helen.' Susan said. 'Now come over here and kneel with me.'
Ms Smithson didn't understand where this was all going, but I did. I felt for the phone in my pocket and got ready to act. The two women knelt before each other, Susan with her back to he vast desk. I took out the mobile and pointed the lens.
'Do you pray Helen?' Susan brought both hands together before her face and waited for Ms Smithson to do the same. As soon as her hands were in front of her face, I took the photo, sending it to the prearranged number before she was even aware of the click.
'What the hell.' She jumped to her feet.
'Stop.' Susan shouted. 'You may want to check your inbox before you do anything stupid.'
Ms Smithson looked at Susan. 'What have you done?' She grabbed the monitor and twisted it round. It was a few moments before the email popped up and as she bent over to open the attached photograph. I got a good long look at her fine round arse, the same arse that got me into all this trouble in the first place. Well that and the wolf whistle it had generated. She hadn't been a Partner even five minutes before she had given us all a dressing down about shoddy work. She had been walking away from us, the words "work harder or be streamlined" still ringing in our ears. She never even saw who whistled, but she knew it was me, even as she gathered all of us together to find the culprit.
Whoever was on the other end of that phone had produced a photo that Ms Smithson was unable to take her eyes off. 'They're improving that photo as we speak.' Susan said. 'Come midnight and no one will be able to tell it's a fake.'
'I'll tell Ken exactly what you've done.' She said, and as she turned I saw a picture of her blowing the Finance Director, a particularly virulent enemy of her husband. 'You won't get away with this.'
'Your word against my brother's. You can take that chance if you want, but don't forget your pile of underwear on the floor beside you. How would I know what underwear you have? And how would I get the exact shape of your birthmark?'
'You bitch, you lousy bitch.'
'Now now. If you want the photos, all the photos, just do exactly what I tell you to, then by tomorrow this will all have gone away.
Susan sat up on the desk. 'Have you ever given another woman head Helen?'
Susan parted her legs and then pulled her pussy lips apart. 'If you want your photos back then I'll need a little kiss. That's all.'
'Don't be ridiculous. It was only a seasonal peck on the cheek.'
'Then I'm sure my brother will understand and forgive you.'
'You know how things are between us at the moment. Something like this could finish us.'
'Come on now Helen, you're a grown woman.' She lifted one leg onto the polished mahogany, spreading her legs further to reveal the pink of her vagina. Ms Smithson didn't know where to look. 'A good solid heterosexual shouldn't have a problem with a little kiss to save her marriage.'
'How do I know you won't take another photo.'
'Trust?' She cocked her head at Ms Smithson and smiled. 'No? Okay I can understand that we may need to work on that. I'll give you the phone. How about that?'
Ms Smithson knelt before the outstretched legs. 'If this is what gets your sad little rocks off then fine, if it will save my marriage. But I want the phone.'
.... There is more of this story ...