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The Struggle for Power (Sumi & Alan23)

S

Sumi

Guest
Rosy lips curved into a somewhat smug smile as soon as the documents were placed back on the desk. Sure, she always got what she wanted, and she was more than certain that luck was most of the times by her side, but this... This kind of event was more than a sheer blessing. If this wasn't a part of her destiny, then, she didn't know what it was. Alright, maybe she was exaggerating a little bit, but she never thought she would one day get even the one single thing she couldn't afford. No, rather the one single person she couldn't buy. Whoever said that money can't buy love? Or at least help in the process? At this point, the young woman sitting behind the desk on her comfortable office chair couldn't help but realize she was probably one of the luckiest and richest persons in the world. She had everything she ever wanted at her feet. Well, almost. She still had something to work on, but she figured it wouldn't be that hard to make the man in front of her fall head over heels with her now that she had him where she wanted.

Iris Augustine was always known as one of the stuck-up girls in her school years, but there was no doubt she had a good reason to be, given her status as the daughter of a CEO and an esteemed fashion designer. She had the looks, the brains, the money and overall, she could be the happiest girl, if only it wasn't for this little thing missing, called love. The first day of high school was the moment this one boy caught her attention. At first, it was fascination, then slowly, it became a crush, only to end up being an obsession. She wanted to get closer to him, to talk with him, make him return her feelings. However, there was one group of girls in her way. Her so called friends.

These equally snobby girls were her friends because of their parents. Needless to say she couldn't just get even a tiny bit friendly with the boy because these gossipers would surely lead to her parents finding out. And Heaven forbid, it would be Hell on Earth if her father found out she was friendly with someone who wasn't even half as rich as her. He already had big plans with her anyway, leaving the company in her hands when she would finish her studies. With these kind of circumstances, Iris had to give up on her crush. It was a shame that for once in her life she couldn't have what she wanted. And only she knew how many times she felt like throwing away everything whenever she would see other girls getting close to him. It wasn't fair. When other girls would approach him and talk to him, she would only be able to watch from afar and simply get mad with envy. Even so, once high school was over she reluctantly gave up on him and tried to forget him by making herself busy.

The next two years were spent on getting accustomed to how her father's company was working. It was just enough to keep her mind cluttered with anything else but foolish things like crushes. Running a company was already a hard task for her anyway, so, focusing only on that was necessary. And now, here she was. Even if her father was still in charge of the company, she was doing most of the work, occasionally having her papa to check if everything was done correctly. In two more years she would be the real CEO of the company. But leaving that aside, this wasn't the reason she was this happy today.

A week ago, the Augustines decided to donate a sum of money to the charity. In return, the company would get a new worker. Seeing how Iris was in need of a personal assistant to help her, this was the best opportunity to get one. The day she received more data on the said person who would take the post, she found herself laughing by herself in her office like she discovered a mine of gold. The man who was unfortunate enough to get into an altercation the last week and be sentenced to a couple of weeks of work in the community service was no one else but him. Her long forgotten obsession. No wonder why the young inheritor of the company was so overwhelmed with happiness.

Finally, once again reunited, she was mentally praying that this was real. She only wondered if he still recognized her. Not that it was that hard to recognize someone like her. For one, she had the same looks as in high school. The same sun-kissed brown hair reaching the middle of her back in playful loose curls with the side fringe to add some sort of mystery to her gray toned eyes rimmed by long eyelashes, the same cream beige skin as soft as velvet, the body slightly curvier than before, but the same height of just 5'1". Of course, her forms were as always accentuated by the most expensive clothes, from the white shirt with frills adorning her chest, the black pencil skirt to the very pricey pair of black heels which added two more inches to her height, all of the items designed by her mother.

Crossing her legs and leaning back in her chair, Iris let out a satisfied hum. "Well, what can I say for certain is that you won't need exceptional skills for this job. However, I still expect the best from you." she finally spoke, voice as warm as hot chocolate in spite of her icy cold eyes. "But first, I guess I should still ask some questions, just for the sake of the interview." she added, shuffling through the stack of papers on her desk using just one of her hands in a lazy yet graceful manner, gray eyes seeming to be stuck on his expression. "Involved in a relationship? Married? Any legitimate or illegitimate child?" she murmured, straightening her back and leaning a little forward as her chin rested in the palm of her hand, head tilting to the side as she waited for the answers.
 
"I guess the good news," thought Jak Kerhall, grimly, "is that I'm not going inside."

He walked between the two police officers, his habitual scowl strong enough to melt the air around him. One of the cops - the pot-bellied one with the triple chin, had wanted to put cuffs on him. The other - the tall one, with the big ears, had vetoed that. Instead, he walked with his hands on Jak's shoulder. A gentle, yet firm touch, that said "Run, and we'll catch you. And then, we might not be so nice." It was a thought Jak appreciated. Not that he planned to run, anyway. He'd done a lot of things in his life - but running away wasn't one of them.

If he had run, he thought, perhaps he wouldn't be in this mess. The last time - the time he'd stolen that car - had been just fun. Suspended sentence. Whaling from his father. Not that that made much difference - his father hit him on the slightest pretext anyway. Not much incentive to keep out of trouble when there was no reward in it. This time, though...

Maybe, in retrospect, he shouldn't have run with the Ravenblades. It had seemed a good idea at the time. A group of friends, people to stand by you on the streets. Lots of liquor, meth, girls. Especially girls. Maybe, even, he should have stayed in the gang, but kept a lower profile. That was part of the problem - being the height and build he was, he always looked a threat. A showdown between him and Lucky had always been a threat. Jak was as brave in a fight as Lucky was. Almost as strong, and a lot faster. Better with a blade maybe. Lucky's final taunt "Well, if you think you're that good, let's try you out," had been the end of them both.

He remembered it as vividly as if it had been a few minutes ago. The stare down. Two hands going for their blades. No firearms allowed in a stand off. Win, and he'd be the leader of the whole lot. Every girl, every guy, his to order. Warlord of the Ravenblades - not a bad thing to be. If he lost - disgrace. Humiliation. Exile from the team. First to cry enough, first to back down. That was all.

Except he'd lost it. He'd been up against the wall, his face bleeding from the cuts from Lucky's blade. Lucky being just a little to confident, a little too slow. Moving forward, leaving just that tiny gap open. Jak's reflex thrust, -

No, Lucky didn't back down. Lucky hadn't been so lucky after all.

The rest, though, was a blur. Gang members standing around, open-mouthed. Pointing. Izzy screaming. Lucky trying to say something, choked by the blood streaming from his thick lips. Jak standing, in a daze, too paralyzed even to throw away the blade, still red-stained with Lucky's blood. Sirens. A confused impression of being alone. Everyone else had fled. Blue uniforms. "You are not obliged... " Standing still, not resisting. But he hadn't run.

Being alone in the cell. Parents not even bothering to visit. A lawyer appointed. A suggestion he plead guilty. A trial. Over in a few minutes. He'd already prepared himself for jail. And then...

That lawyer hadn't been as uncaring and inefficient as he'd looked. A summons to the prison superintendent. Something about the "Charity Service Scheme... new initiative... blah blah blah... you have to work hard, mind... do everything you're told... last chance... if you come back here... "

Who cared. Anything was better than jail, right?

Until he'd seen her.

Oh yes, he remembered Iris Augustine, all right. It's hard to forget a rich-bitch who has a crush on you. Hard to forget those lips, that rack. Another regret. Maybe he should have... nah! She wouldn't have. A girl from the wide streets, and a guy from the hill? Forget it. But he'd seen her looking. Watched her blush whenever he walked by her. Seen her friends teasing her, all those blue-eyed dolls with their hair perfectly arranged, those designer clothes, those giggles that went right through you, that said "we are as far above you as an angel, and never forget it." They could say a lot, those girls, with a laugh.

And now, here she was. He was hers, to do with as she liked. No, iris, you little bitch, you don't need exceptional skills. Just live in a place where the rich get everything, the poor get fuck all. And that's why you're that side of the desk, looking like you've got a nasty smell under that pretty nose, and I'm here, between two cops, one kinder than the other. Looking into those cold, cold eyes that said "At last, I have you just where I want you."

"involved in a relationship?" he repeated her question, mocking her refined accent. "You mean am I fucking?" The fat cop growled. "Answer the question, son," said big ears.

"No. I'm not with anyone. Not married, no. Illegitimate child?" He looked at tall cop, as if he didn't know what the words meant, though he did. He'd been called it often enough, and accurately too, for what that was worth. Tall cop explained, in a whisper, trying to be helpful. Though Jak didn't need the help, he was grateful. "No, ma'am. No children."

More questions, all pointless, all none of her business. But that was the way of it. She had him, he was hers. Acting as her lackey. And they pretended it was fair, that she was doing him a favor.

Well, he'd wait out the time. One day. One day... he'd find a way to take that oh-so-fucking-superior smile off her face.

But that was for the future. And this was now. "Now" was being escorted to her car, chauffeur driven. Both cops having the decency to say "good bye, son, and good luck." He hadn't expected that from fat cop. He was almost grateful. But he put any soft feelings out of his mind. There was a long way to go yet, before he'd done his time, and it was all over. He had that to dream about, being free, one day. But that was the future.

This was now.
 
Iris could only be amused at his way of handling her questions. Then again, the questions were meant to be this pointless and awkward, and on the other hand, for her to find out more about him. To know whether his mind was already occupied by another woman. Simply to decide whether she would have to erase someone from his heart. Well, what do you know? He was just making her job even easier. No girlfriend, lover or wife meant she could make him hers without that much effort. Oh, she could barely wait to have him at her feet, a thought which was enough to let the brunette's mind wander off somewhere else for a short moment.

Her thoughts were interrupted though, when he finally answered the question properly. He was sort of funny acting as if he didn't know what an illegitimate child would mean. It was obvious that she noticed his way of mocking her. She guessed he was still bitter about the whole deal and the sentence. Or maybe he was still bitter about having to work for her. She didn't worry. She would soon change that behavior. In fact, she would soon make him suffer the same hell she went through in high school, if she was given the chance. Now that, would be certainly interesting. But first, she would have to make him adore her. Just as much as she adored him.

Once inside the black Bentley, getting comfortable in the backseat, she crossed her legs once again, rolling her eyes at the cops' wishes of good luck. Sure. He'd need all the luck. All the luck to not go crazy over her in the next few weeks. And speaking of that, the fact that this would not last more than some weeks meant she had to be quick about it. Unless... she had some tricks up her sleeves. And she could think of something as long as it meant that she'd have him. Hell, she had all the money she needed, she could come up with something neat to keep him stuck under her control.

As soon as they were alone - well, leaving the chauffeur aside - Iris glanced at him and then at the window to his right, seeming thoughtful. Then, she suddenly shook her head with a smile. "Who would have thought? Strange, isn't it? High school classmates reunited again, unfortunately, in such circumstances." she remarked, seemingly 'affected' by the situation. "I'm surprised, though. Never thought you'd be the type to fight. Or the type to stay single even now." she said suggestively, carefully looking for any change in his expression from the corners of her eyes.
 
Jak sat stiffly in the leather seat of the Bentley. On another occasion, he might have enjoyed the ride... the leather seats that seemed to swallow him up, the polished wood grain, the drinks cabinet and Blu-Ray built into the rear of the front seat, the panel between the rear seat and the driving compartment, that Iris had closed with a loud 'smack', cutting off the passengers from the driver.

They'd explained the deal carefully to him. He had to do what he was told, show respect, not try to escape. In a sense he was bound to her, like the slaves in history. In return, his criminal records would be wiped at the end of the appointed time. He'd be free and clear. On balance, it was better than sharing a cell with some gay guy, slopping out a poo-jug, being afraid to bend down in the showers, eating food fit for pigs.

But the time would seem like an eternity. It might not have been so bad if it was anyone else.. . but, for fuck's sake, Iris Augustine???

He looked across at his... what? Captor? Mistress? Owner? She'd bought him, so he guessed that was accurate enough. Though surely there were laws, about cruel and unusual punishment. There was a limit to what she could do to him, surely.

And what was all this about "High School Classmates?" It wasn't as if they'd been close friends. They'd barely spoken. He deliberately kept his face rigid, showing no emotion. Hiding fear came naturally to a kid from his area. He glanced across at her, noting how her tight black skirt had ridden up on the leather seat, in fact so far that she'd probably be quite upset if she knew. He'd forgotten how good her legs were, actually, though he fought that thought down. She was, he had to remember, the enemy - though she'd spoken to him, and was entitled, at least, to a reply.

"I guess you thought wrong, then," he said, looking straight ahead. "I fight when I have to. If you lived in the dark part of town, instead of snobsville, you'd do the same. And I fuck when I want to, and don't need a man in a dress to give me permission. Are there any more personal questions, Miss Iris - that is what I'm supposed to call you, right?"
 
It was amazing how much he could hide away, and if she had to be honest, she admired how well he could keep that rigid expression. Even so, she would have loved to see at least a tint of fear or anger on his face. It would just feed her ego. Leaving that aside, she did notice the subtle glance at her skirt which revealed more than it was proper for a businesswoman. However, there was no doubt she wasn't ashamed of it. There was no reason to be ashamed of her body, if anything, she loved to flaunt it. Especially if it would make him fantasize a little about her. After all, she wanted to get his attention whether it involved her own looks and power or not. Thus, in the end, she too, glanced down at her legs and then back up at him, a slight sly smile on her face, as if to make him aware that she caught him.

Too bad he soon averted his eyes, preferring to look ahead instead of looking her in the eyes. She didn't get angry at his mean remark. No, actually, she could only let out a chuckle and look out of the window. "Snobsville, you say. You sound so irritated. Even though this one snob woman right here just saved your ass from being jailed. You see, that's the problem with you people of the middle-class and below. You think you're just so much better morally-wise. The rich ones are always the bad guys, and this whole life is unfair." she spoke softly, before she turned her head to look at him once again.

"And you might be right to some point. But, if it weren't for the rich snobs you wouldn't be here. You'd be sitting in a cold cell along with some other psychos." she added with a smile, motioning to the chauffeur to take the next corner to the right. "You know what's funny? Anyone can be rich nowadays. It's just the people's mentality and the laziness that stops them from reaching the top. Then again, if everyone would actually work their best we wouldn't have these poor guys and there would be no middle-class to do our work when reaching the top. But you probably think I'm rambling nonsense here anyway, so I'll leave this for another time." she ended the subject just as the car pulled over in front of a building standing as proud and as tall as its owner.

Helped out by the chauffeur, she stepped out of the Bentley, after which she subtly fixed her skirt and motioned to Jak to follow her inside. "Also, for your information, you can say whatever you want, but calling me a man in a dress won't change the fact that I'm quite attractive. Though, if you tried to make a mean remark about my personality and attitude, then I guess I am a man in a dress. This company won't be running by itself and I do have to be a man if I want to have everything under control." she explained as she headed for the stairs, greeting some of the other workers in the meanwhile too. "As for what you can call me... Just call me Iris. I appreciate the formality, but it doesn't have any meaning in this context." she added, before she led him down the corridor and reached a wooden door. Once opened, it revealed her office, the only place in the building where she could have some quietness.

Moving around the glass desk, she sat down, taking her usual pose with her legs crossed and swiftly pressed a button to call one of her other assistants over. "Please, take a sit." she prompted, pointing to the chair in front of her desk. "My assistant will come over in a couple of minutes and explain what do you have to do. In the meantime, you can fill this in. Just a little questionnaire." she instructed, handing him some papers. Mostly just some irrelevant questions, this time, strictly regarding the business. "Feel free to ask me anything." she awkwardly said in a very nice cotton-candy-like tone, watching him carefully as already planned to play around with him. Now, she just waited for the moment he would leave his guard down.
 
Jak studied the form carefully. Much of it was fairly routine. Name. Age. Previous experience in an office environment (that one didn't take long). Medical history (nothing significant.) Sex (frequently.) Ambition (stay out of jail). Reason for applying to join company (the single word "forced". Simply because he wasn't sure he could spell "compelled"). After that, things became more complicated. Questions about his philosophy of life. His view of various political issues. Favorite music and movies. He couldn't see the point of that, even if he had been a "proper" applicant. Finally, he compromised by simply scrawling "n/a" in each space. After all, he reasoned, there was one bright spot about this. He was guaranteed the job!

He was chafing about her remarks, her arrogant assumption that anyone could be rich. It was a line he heard frequently from the well-off. Whether or not it was to hide their guilt at their fortunate circumstances, or they genuinely believed that everyone had the same start, and rising or falling was just a matter of enterprise, he'd never quite been able to work out. Probably, he thought, a mixture. Some - like Iris - genuinely thought they were in positions of power and prestige by divine right, and that it owed nothing to being given everything by a rich, doting daddy. For a few seconds he gave himself up to a delicious fantasy about Iris suddenly finding herself on the streets, among the Ravenbloods, and just how she'd cope - or not. There were girls there no older than fourteen who could have slit her to pieces.

He found himself studying her. No ring on her thin fingers, so no husband or fiancee. Boyfriend? Well, his natural thoughts would be to assume she had someone, for surely no one as good looking as her - and he had to admit she looked pretty hot in that tight blouse and skirt - surely wouldn't be alone by choice. She was looking down at a piece of paper, pretending to be busy. He wasn't fooled. He'd never worked in an office, but even he knew that most work today was done by computer. And her eyes kept flicking up, looking at him, when she thought he wasn't watching. It gave him some satisfaction that she remembered him from schooldays. She'd had the hots for him then, all right. Could it be that some of that still lingered? It would explain a lot! Why she was dressed to kill, why her lipstick was redder and brighter than most businesswomen he saw about the streets. Why she'd let her skirt ride up. It could even explain her resentment. A woman scorned... though surely, she'd have to be pretty neurotic to still think about that, so many years later.

"Iris," he said at last, "I think I do have some questions. You did say I could ask you anything, right? Well, I've been wondering."

He gave a smile, that was just a hair's breadth away from being facetious. The smile guaranteed to drive anyone in authority mad. It used to work perfectly on teachers, he recalled.

"What made you say that about being a man in woman's clothing? I didn't say that? Did someone else say it? Or is it some idea you made up yourself?"

"Why would an office as prestigious as this want a convicted crim working in full view of everyone. I mean, it's hardly a great advertisement, is it?"

"And for that matter, if you are hiring felons, why pick me, of all people?"

He had an idea about that last question. A small thought that was stirring in the back of his mind. He was a child of the streets, not used to being pushed around. But, despite his upbringing, he was no fool. He knew that the best way to fight a battle was with the tools at hand. He couldn't rip Iris Augustine to pieces with a blade. Fine.

But there were other ways to fight. And, oh yes, did he have an idea about that.
 
Iris finally looked up from the paper she was reading, when he suddenly called her name. She raised an eyebrow as he admitted that he had some questions indeed, and of course, she was more than happy to hear them, whatever they would be. Besides, it was obvious enough by now that she would not lose her patience so easily. In the last few years, she had learned what was patience after all. The patience she needed to avoid going nuts over stacks of documents to read, understand and sign every Monday and Tuesday evening. A routine that her father used to never neglect. Now it was the time she would go through the same hell.

She was intrigued by the sudden smile. She could only guess he had something up his sleeve, and almost expected a trap question. At the same time, she remembered the same smile he would give to the teachers when he wanted to drive them nuts. The light brown haired woman smiled back, unaffected.

Another chuckle escaped her lips. "Jak, did you hit your head in the altercation? You, yourself, said 'And I fuck when I want to, and don't need a man in a dress to give me permission'. Was there anybody else you were referring to when you said that? Don't think so." she answered, seeming to have everything under control.

Was he trying to catch her red handed? If so, this was certainly hilarious. She could return the same smart words. And who knows? Maybe she could tease him in the meanwhile too.

"Maybe. But turning a convicted criminal into a perfect personal assistant would bring me some great advertisement, don't you think? It would just show how capable I am." she replied to his second question, resting her chin in the palm of her hand.

"As for your last question... Jak... Do you really think I actually stalked you until I found out where you ended up and suddenly decided I could help you out? If so, let me disappoint you. I don't have the time to watch out for other people. For the last couple of years I was busy enough with the company's employees. I know you probably think I'm doing nothing here and just earn the money with a pretty smile and a wink, but my life isn't completely pink. The only reasons you are here are a charity and sheer luck. Or bad luck. Depends on how you see it."

"Why do you ask anyway? Did you think I went out of my way to make you mine?" she suggested, voice turning into a sultry one as one of her legs lifted slowly so that the tip of her shoe would lightly touch his leg down and up to his knee in a slow teasing way. Her lips curled into a smile once again. "Are you by any chance trying to anger me or something? Or is it the hatred you have for the rich that makes you so mean? Not that I would mind it. You can try and act like a tough dog, but I still have the leash. At least for the next couple of weeks anyway."

Iris suddenly felt so eager to stir some emotions in him, even if it would be anger. She wanted to see more of him. And the mere fact that she 'owned him' thrilled her. Iris Augustine was currently a satisfied woman. At least for now.
 
"No, no, I didn't mean you were a - " Jak found himself smiling, for real, now. "I meant all that crap about being married and stuff. Don't believe in it." It was, he admit to admit, a kind of funny misunderstanding. Or at least, it would have been under other circumstances. He looked her up and down, his gaze perhaps dwelling longer on her breasts than true politeness demanded, but then again, she was hardly going to sack him, was she. And he'd already decided she was going to make sure he got a bad report, so he'd probably end up doing the jail term anyway, so there was little point in stressing too much. "Trust me, Iris, no-one's going to mistake your for a man. For a couple of good reasons."

As a boy from the streets, he was used to picking up the tiniest of clues. Your life might depend upon it. A slight glance, a move towards a weapon, a giveaway sign that the guy buying drugs from you might be a plain clothes cop. The phrase "make you mine" could, he knew, have referred to her being his boss, but he'd picked up the slight, very slight, edge in her voice. One of neediness. The wording used, he felt, was significant - whether she even realized it herself or not.

He sat back in the chair. It was more comfortable than he was used to, he had to admit. He'd never sat in a plush swivel chair before. "So you're going to turn me into the perfect personal assistant, then? Now, that, Iris, intrigues me. I've never been a perfect anything before. Maybe I like the idea more than you think." He looked around the office. "Could be kind of interesting to see how you spend your days, now you've grown up. I remember at school you were always a bit of a dweeb, weren't you, desperate to impress your friends, instead of going after what you really wanted. Never able to attract the guys you wanted. Having to buy your girlfriends presents so they'd tolerate you. That too-loud laugh you used to put on, when they made fun of you, so you could try and pretend you didn't really care. Yeah, I regard it as bad luck I got stuck with you - but maybe I might enjoy this."

He took a gold plated pen from her desk, and used it to flick the hem of her skirt upwards, revealing as much leg as she'd done in the car. "Maybe I like the idea of being around you for a while. Poor desperate girls, who can't get a guy, and have to buy company are pretty interesting. Sad, but interesting."

He gave a cruel smile. "I wonder if you feel you're getting value for your money."
 
Well, it was hard not to figure it out that the reason no one would mistake her for a man would be her generous 'package'. And it was even harder not to notice his eyes lingering on her breasts more than it would be normal. Then again, she was used to men staring at her chest as if it was one of the seven wonders of the world. And not only her chest, but her back and legs too. In a way, she couldn't blame them. After all, she too, was a tease, always wearing the clothes which would highlight her best parts, at the same time trying to avoid looking like one of those cheap hookers. She was the daughter of a clothing designer, she couldn't afford looking like some skank.

The fact that he was suddenly making himself comfortable, showing no sign of being bothered even in the slightest as she teased him, made Iris wonder if something just slipped in the wrong direction. And hell did she hate losing the control.

No, this wasn't right. He wasn't supposed to enjoy this. What man in the right mind would like the idea of taking orders from a woman? Then again, she didn't want to see him suffer, right? Or did she? She mentally cursed herself. Inadvertently, she was getting confused by her own thoughts. She had to get her facts straight. Yes, she just wanted to make him suffer just as much as she suffered. That's right. There. Everything was clear as crystal. Then, she would just make him fall head over heels with her. Alright.

The expression on Iris' face slowly changed as he continued to talk, revealing everything that she tried to bury in her memories. If a couple of moments ago the brunette was all confident, she was all of sudden getting redder and redder with embarrassment. She always thought he wasn't paying attention to her, but it seemed like he did notice exactly the things she wanted to forget. At this point, she couldn't even make eye contact as much as she tried.

When he did pick up the pen from her desk and flicked her skirt upwards to reveal her legs again, hearing the word 'desperate', she completely snapped. Iris stood up, suddenly feeling a mix of emotions forcing her heart to beat at a faster pace. She was embarrassed and mad. She couldn't believe it. Since when did he dare to mock her?

"The only sad person here will be you, after this week." she threatened, resting both of her hands on the desk, the pose she was in denoting she was pretty much angrier than usual. "You think you know everything, don't you? You think you're damn smart. Well, we'll see who's laughing at the end of this." she added with a nervous smile, just as she heard the knock on the door.

Taking a deep breath, she fixed her skirt and tried to calm down. "Come in." she instructed, after which a younger woman entered the office with a cup of coffee and a couple of papers in her hands. "I brought your coffee, miss Iris. And here are some of the papers Anise forgot about the other day." the blondie said in a much softer tone, placing the warm drink on the glass desk.

"Surrounded by incompetent people." Iris grumbled as she took the papers and quickly looked over them before putting them away and glancing over at the younger woman. "Show him around and explain to him what he has to do. No meal or break until he does things properly. If he slacks off, give me a call. You can go now." she ordered like some sort of leader, before she sat back on her chair, taking a sip of coffee.

"Follow me, mister Kerhall." the assistant murmured, seeming all more kinder and gentler than the woman sitting at the desk and reading some documents with a frown plastered on her face. Once they were out of the office, she let out a giggle. "Never heard the boss so angry that her voice would be heard from the other end of the corridor. I'm Alice, by the way. If you ever need some help you can give me a nudge. From the looks of it you don't get along with miss Iris, anyway. Though, it's quite rare that she snaps." she spoke, leading him back downstairs. "I'm telling you, this woman is like a ticking bomb." she added as a matter of fact.

Alice was one of the bubbly women who worked for Iris. She had all the right curves, but unlike the brunette, she was a little bit slimmer, giving the illusion of a fragile woman. She always had a smile on her face and knew how to temper the 'demon' residing in the office upstairs. All in all, she was a sweetheart. At least in the men's point of view. Most of the women in the company envied her.
 
It was astonishing how an outlook could change, Jak thought. Just a half hour before, Iris' threats would have sent a cold chill through him. But now, some subtle change had taken over him. It was like a fight, when your opponent had hit you as hard as he could, and you were hurting and bleeding but still standing. He knew that he could take whatever she might dish out, and at the end, still have something left. It was a heady feeling. He had seen the chink in her defenses, and it was a chink, he knew instinctively, that she'd never be able to plug.

For there was an ability Jak had. One he kept secret, even from his fellow gang members. One he could use only on occasion, when the fear levels and the emotions in him were high. A "talent" he called it. Usually it worked, and it had got him out of more trouble than he could remember. And in the dire straits in which he now found himself - it would come in useful indeed!

So when Alice arrived, it was all Jak could do to keep the wary, scared look on his face. Things were looking up even more. She was a slim woman, yet with curves in all the right places, blond, and with the shy, slightly apprehensive manner (at least in front of Iris) that brought out the protective male in him. Once they were free from the office, however, another side of her personality quickly emerged. Bright, bubbly, eager to help. To take people at their worth rather than their reputation. Sympathetic and patient. A woman like this was a new one on him. He was used to people either disliking him, or (like the girls from the streets) appreciating him as an ally, or an object of lust.

So as Alice showed him the various menial duties he had to perform - how to work the photocopier, how to take or send a fax, the use of the switchboard, even setting him up with an email account on the staff computer network (and he was sure, somehow, that it was without Iris' knowledge) - as she showed him these things, for a moment he was lost in a kind of dream. Of what his life might have been like with a different upbringing, a different start. Maybe, even, a different attitude. Hey, he might have been in this office, sending emails, earning wages, wearing a suit and tie, being able to walk the streets without having to keep one eye out for cops or rival gang members.

Alice showed him how to do the filing. It was a simple enough task, even for someone like Jak who had no experience. All you had to know, after all, was the alphabet. Alice's praise when he got everything right first time felt good. As if he'd somehow helped her out.

Alice was so nice, in fact, that when the time came to do what he knew he had to do, he was on the verge of an emotion that he very rarely experienced.

He actually felt guilty!

He almost put off what had to be done. It felt somehow wrong to be doing - well, doing what he was about to do - to this kind, pretty girl. Like a stray dog biting the hand of the one person who was trying to help it. But he knew that chances to put his special skill into practice came rarely, and had to be taken advantage of when they came. So, when it did come, he had to steel himself, force himself to put his feelings aside, take command. For taking command was what his skill was all about.

It started when they were sorting the mail, sitting at Alice's desk, stamping everything with the word "received", and then sorting the opened letters into small pigeonholes marked with the names of the companies various departments. Alice had explained that at one time this was a very time-consuming task, but that these days most incoming mail was by electronic means, and "snail mail" as she called it was only a tiny percentage of the correspondence. Though, nonetheless, many customers were of a traditional mindset, and still liked to communicate this way.

As she was slitting open an envelope, Alice turned away and rubbed at her temples. A few minutes later, she repeated the action, then turned to Jak and apologized. "Excuse me, Jak," she said, in a soft voice. "I've got this terrible headache. I woke up with it, and I think it's getting worse."

A few moments later, at the file cabinet, the same thing happened. The same turning away, the same massaging of her head. Muttering under her breath about "this damn headache", and the tensing of her normally happy features.

And this was the chance Jak was looking for.

"You know, Alice," he said, an innocent expression on his face. "I can cure headaches, sometimes, if they aren't too bad." And when she looked at him with that curious expression on her face, somewhere between "bullshit" and "really, how interesting", he was encouraged to continue. "Yeah, it doesn't always work of course. Like, there's no way I could fix a migraine and stuff. But a small headache, just maybe, y'know. I've got this friend, Jim his name is, and he's always getting them. And I can fix them for him in a few minutes, or at least make them go down a bit, he says. Sometimes I can make them go away completely."

The downplaying of his ability - saying he couldn't fix migraines, and such - he felt had been a masterful touch. Had he boasted he could fix any headache, she probably wouldn't have believed him. As it was, his statement had a ring of truth. Within a half hour, and the flaring up a few times of Alice's incipient headache, she finally (as he'd known she would) turned to him and asked him to explain how he'd managed to help his (imaginary, though Alice didn't know it) friend, Jim.

From there, it was only a short step to demonstrating it. Taking her to the staff canteen, which was deserted, sitting her at a table. Asking her to de-focus her eyes, concentrate on his hand waving in front of her face, listen only to the sound of his voice, as, with lowered pitch and monotonous cadence, he lulled her into his control.

Ten minutes later, the deed was done. He hadn't lost his touch. She sat, to all intents and purposes, as alert and awake as before. But with one very important difference. He took out his cigarette lighter.

"Now, Alice, I'm going to set a flame to your arm," he said. "But it won't hurt, and it won't leave the slightest mark."

he held the flame under her wrist for a good three minutes (it was this part of the exercise that had meant he needed them to be alone - it would have looked weird in the extreme to be observed) and then snapped the lighter shut. As he had promised, Alice felt no pain at all, and there was no mark. She was really and truly under his hypnotic control.

"Now, Alice," he said, his voice still low and deep. "In a few seconds I shall snap my fingers and you will wake up. When you do, you will remember absolutely nothing of the last fifteen minutes. You will be totally happy, at peace, relaxed. Your headache will not exist any more - you will be totally free from pain." He rubbed his left shoulder with his right hand. "And from now on, whenever I do this, you will go right back as you are now, under my control, and you will do whatever I tell you. Without question."

He snapped his fingers, and Alice's eyes closed briefly, then opened wildly.

"My goodness," she said, in an embarrassed voice. "Sorry, what were you saying? I... I do apologize, I was wool-gathering... "

"I said 'How's the headache?' " replied Jak.

Alice put her hands to her forehead. "Well, that is strange! A few minutes ago I felt like there were little men inside my skull, pounding it with hammers. But now I feel totally relaxes, and the pain's gone away totally." She giggled. "It's almost as if you worked that headache cure you were talking about!"
 
By the end of the day, Iris felt like ripping every little document waiting on her desk. Ever since the embarrassing moment that occured in the morning, she could barely concentrate on her tasks at hand. All she could think of was her failure, how stupid she probably looked right there, blushing just like she was a high school girl seeing her crush. Not that it wasn't true. After all, he had been like an obsession to her in the high school years. Only she knew how many nights she lost thinking about why she couldn't just be a normal girl and just make a step towards him. Now, these memories seemed so hilarious and at the same time, so pitiful. However, she would never truly admit it how desperate she was after him.

Iris was indeed a snobby woman and a total bitch when she wasn't in the best mood, but from the looks of it, her so called 'crush' was just as imperfect. She simply couldn't get rid of that cruel smile he showed her out of her head. In a way or another, she would have lied if she said she wasn't afraid even in the last bit. Now it was just that, but what if things would get worse? "Give me a break." she muttered under her breath, signing another paper with a frown as her other hand rubbed her forehead in frustration. She needed to make him realize she was the 'master' here. She could handle a company, but not a man? Nonsense.

She was an Augustine after all. She had to be able to do anything and acquire everything.

Shaking her head, she left the papers aside and swirled around on her chair, crossing her arms in the same fashion aa her legs as she looked straight ahead. The office itself had a nice view, especially when it was dark outside. The city's lights, the blocks, the cars, the people swarming the streets in spite of the late hour, and finally, the sky and the moon, whenever it would not be covered by the clouds, everything stirred her heart. She loved this feeling. This is why she chose this particular design for her office, with the glass-like wall revealing the flashy streets. She felt like everything was hers. That feeling of having so much power in her grasp thrilled her. The brunette smiled. This is exactly what she needed to regain her confidence.

The knock at the door signaled that Alice was back with Jak. She didn't bother to check on his progress given the stacks of documents requiring her attention, so she'd probably have to rely on the blondie. Not that she trusted her. Alice was indeed efficient at work, but Iris could smell a sneaky woman from miles away. And while Alice looked like an angel, she wasn't that blind as to not notice she was the type to be oh so friendly with the men. A total sweetheart. Hell, Iris herself was the type to use her best points to win any contract or argument with men, so it was no wonder she knew what other women were capable of.

Turning around to face the door, she let out a soft "Come in." and pondered on whether it was such a good idea to let Alice in his company the whole day or not. Nevertheless, as soon as they entered, she tapped one of the stacks of papers with her fingers, glancing at Alice. "Take these and put them away safely. The rest of them, I'll read them tonight." she spoke and then averted her eyes to Jak as she leaned back in her chair. "You can leave earlier today, Alice." she added mostly like an order.

"However, Jak here, will stay a little bit more." she calmly said, taking a sip of her coffee, waiting for the blondie to get out of the office.

And then, the silence took over for a couple of moments as soon as the door closed.

"Where was I? Oh, right." she murmured, once again as confident as ever, standing on her feet to walk over to the window. "You know what, Jak? I have to admit you have the guts. Trying to stir my anger even in these circumstances... Truly courageous. However, I have some bad news for you."

Facing him, she leaned a little against the glass wall. "In case you forgot, I can send you back to jail. It doesn't take a genius to find some faults in your work. Guess what? I just remembered that your fate depends on my decisions."

"Now, the big question is... do you want to go back into a cell, or do you want to be a pretty little obedient pet and have a better life?" she questioned dead-serious.
 
Jak watched as Alice's pert little rear vanished through the doorway. Much to his surprise, his first day as Iris Augustine's plaything wasn't turning out as badly as he had expected. He'd met the pretty Alice, confirmed that his "power" was still intact, and performed a good deed as well. And now, for all her bluster, he could sense massive insecurities in iris. She wasn't nearly as on top of the situation as she was trying to make him think. She was making a desperation move. And the lack of confidence in her voice, the subtle cues in her body, showed it.

"To be honest, Iris," replied Jak to her question, neither submissively nor particularly aggressively, "the answer's neither of them. You're right I don't want to go to jail, and I won't insult you by lying about that. But I really can't believe you'd forgotten that you've bought me, and have control over what happens." He sat back, pulled out a pack of cigarettes, and lit one without asking permission. He guessed she'd take the anti-tobacco Nazi-ism stance that was fashionable in the corporate world. "Thing is, Iris, we both know there's only so far you can go. You can only give me a bad report and kick me out once. Once that happens, you lose all your power. It's not like sex, where you can have multiple orgasms." ("Or at least, you would if you did the deed with me" his eyes said, as they locked with hers. He noticed with satisfaction that she was obviously trying hard, and failing, to stop herself blushing again)! "More to the point, once I'm gone, I'm gone. You can't change your pretty little mind and ask for me back, in case you were wondering."

He blew a smoke ring, knowing he was in command of the situation.

"So it's like this, Iris. Whatever you might think, I'm grateful for this scheme, to give me another chance. And I'd sooner do the right thing and take advantage of it, than not. And Alice has shown me what to do around the office, and I reckon I can do it pretty well, even if I am new at it." He smiled. "And look how hot she is. Fuck, what guy wouldn't want to be around someone with looks like that? So, how about this? You give me a proper chance, the way this thing's supposed to work. I'll do the job a well as I can, and I'll treat you with as much respect and fairness as you show me. And yeah, you can throw one of your tantrums and get me shipped out and back to jail if you like, and there's fuck all I can do about it. But maybe - just maybe, Iris," he stubbed out the half-smoked cigarette on the desk, "maybe you might not regret doing this thing properly."

Jak had never read Greek classical literature. If he had, he would have recognized himself as a tool of Nemesis, giving her exactly what her hubris deserved. He was giving her a last chance. A final peace offering, though she didn't know it. There would be no more olive branches. Her own ethics would now decide her fate.
 
Iris didn't need a clearer sign to know that the answer would be something she didn't want to hear, given the start of his speech and the fact that he just pulled out his cigarettes and started smoking without her permission. She simply found herself smiling and shaking her head at him as she listened, crossing her arms under her chest and carefully watching him with her gray cold eyes, as if she was about to freeze the room any minute with the stare.

However, he was damn right. It was annoying, but he was saying the truth once again. Once she would kick him back to the jail, she would have to say her goodbyes to him. She rolled her eyes in spite of the blush creeping to her cheeks as he mentioned the multiple orgasms and noticing the subtle message sent by his glance, trying this time to not lose her head over such minor things.

It was sort of irritating, how he blew that smoke as if to mock her superiority. However, she couldn't help but find it somehow enticing at the same time, something about him stirring some feelings she almost thought she had forgotten. That crave she buried deep in her soul in the last couple of years of working at her father's company.

The mentioning of Alice was enough to wake her up to reality. Her full lips curved into a smile that had a tint of sarcasm in it. Maybe if it wasn't for the blondie and the way he spoke about her right in her face, she would have considered his 'offer'. But, for Iris, this was too much.

"If she's so damn good, then why don't you have her save your ass?" she questioned, a frown and a smile finding their way on her face as she placed her hand on the glass desk, looking down at him. "Oh, right! Because she's just a mere employee here. Jak, what do you take me for? I have enough money to do anything. You'd be surprised to see how easily some people go blind at the laws when they smell money. I could trap you here for as long as I want. Either as a worker, either as a real pet." she explained, seeming somewhat calm on the surface, though she could already feel herself getting angrier and angrier, heart beating faster for no real reason.
 
"Do you?" Jak asked, calmly. "Do you really have enough money to do *anything*?" He sat back and steepled his hands, hoping his refusal to be cowed by her power-play would annoy her. "Do you have enough money to wipe out your memories of being the girl the other girls all made fun of? To stop you being jealous of Alice, because people like her for what she is, instead of crawling to her out of fear? To make it on your own, instead of inheriting your money from Daddy? To stop being so scared of life that you have to pretend to be a rock-hard bitch, and hope the rest of the world doesn't find out it's all a bluff?"

He gave a grim smile.

"Do you have enough money to make yourself a girl that guys want, instead of having to buy them? Well, do you, Iris Augustine?"
 
Iris flinched at his short question spoken in such a calm tone. And then, she understood why her heart was tormentingly beating. She feared this.

Once again, he was bringing out in the light her past. The past which she was trying her best to forget. Funny thing, she was sure she could somehow handle it... only if it wasn't him saying it. After all, even if she hated how he seemed to mock her and insult her, this man was still the one she dreamed about so many years, the one she had to abruptly forget about when high school was over. He was her real first crush. What a stupid thing.

She was slowly averting her gaze from him, down to her own hands which curled into fists, cheeks turning visibly redder with embarrassment and madness. "Stop it." she barely muttered between gritted teeth. Iris was now hiding her face as her head tilted forward, hair covering most of her face. But, not everything.

A knot seemed to have formed in her throat, the brunette feeling strange all of a sudden. A familiar feeling, and a familiar taste. Something she didn't go through in a good while. Years, perhaps. She blinked repeatedly, trying to avoid the catastrophe. No, not now, not in front of him. She just hoped he would not notice the wet trail from her eye down to the corner of her lips.

"Shut up!" came a sudden loud outburst, slamming one of her fists until the very cup which was supposed to be filled with coffee overturned, rolling on the desk until it hit the stacks of papers. Thankfully, it was empty, so there would be no damage to the documents. On the other hand, Iris was damaged.

While her make up wasn't messed up yet, the glassy eyes, the red face, her cheeks smeared with salty waterdrops were a clear sign she lost it, as she looked him in the eyes. "You don't know a thing about me!" she cried, the words this time coming out in a weaker, stuttering voice. Once she realized she most probably looked pathetic right now, she straightened her back, bringing her hand up to her face in an attempt to hide the ugly expression. "Get out. Leave me alone." she barely murmured as she turned her back to him in another attempt to mask away the weakness, even if it was obviously too late.
 
While Iris' mini-breakdown hadn't come as a total surprise to Jak, it was still slightly higher in intensity (and had come far quicker) than he'd thought it would. It was a heady feeling of power to hold such control over her emotions. The same as when he'd had power over Alice, though in a different way. After all, given what he'd done to the blond, such submission was to be expected. Iris had, more or less, already surrendered her position of power, shown herself too weak to hold dominance, in a remarkably easy capitulation.

His inclination at that point would have been to capitalize on his victory. Mock her, revile her. But something inside him held it back. An instinct that said that he had the potential, right now, to do what he had done so many times in his life. To win the battle, and in doing so, lose the war. There was another way to play this, one that would yield a far richer dividend.

"Certainly, Iris," he replied, softly yet confidently - yet in a tone not without respect. "With your permission, though, I'll just perform my duties before I go."

And to Iris's surprise, he picked up the pack of tissues that sat on her desk, walked across to where she stood and, quite tenderly, turned her around to face him. He wiped her eyes, clearing up the tear that glistened on her cheek, and arranged her dark hair back into its former situation of immaculate grooming. Then, ignoring her surprised expression, he used his fingers to push her blouse more snugly into the waist of her skirt at the front, where it had become rucked up in her agitation. The material now sat smoothly again, as if she had just put it on instead of wearing it all day.

He touched her gently on her red lips with an index finger. "I shall assume you want me to instruct Alice that no-one is to enter until you call," he said. "And that your - your wish to be alone right now - is not a matter for discussion among the other staff. Naturally, they won't hear of it from me. I'll wait until you call me."

He walked to the door, and then shut it carefully behind him.
 
Iris felt like running away or just digging a hole to hide herself in it as she heard the footsteps, noting that he was approaching her. Oh no, this couldn't happen. She swore she would yell at him if he tried to mock her any farther.

She flinched, though, when he turned her around, looking quite shocked as he wiped her eyes and the tear, even fixed her hair. On the other hand, she wasn't sure whether he was doing it out of pity, whether it was to win her trust or something. If she had to be honest, it seemed quite unlikely for him to feel bad about what he, himself said to her. She was positive that there was something behind those actions, even if something inside of her wished it was more than pity.

Her eyes still a little red, looked down at his hands as they smoothed down her blouse, inadvertently sniffing like a child. Why was he doing this? She really wanted to ask, but at the same time she feared her voice would come out weird. Once his finger came in contact with her lips, she figured she should just keep quiet, averting her eyes and frowning slightly as she listened to his words. Or rather, his voice. If only this voice wouldn't be the same which mocked her a couple of seconds ago. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair how he could hurt her and anger her and then still be the one to wipe her tears. It was almost as if he was laughing at her, toying with her, even though, she was supposed to be toying with him. But not even she herself could manage to bring him to tears anyway.

Gray eyes watched his back as he walked towards the door, soon enough being alone once again in her office. She felt defeated, empty and more than anything, alone.

Sitting back on her chair, the brunette went back to her work, realizing that the only way she could calm down would be focusing on something else. It was only later, just before the work hours would end that she finally remembered calling him. She wasn't in a good mood and from the looks of it, she would not be able to say anything stingy for the rest of the night. For now, she would hand him the rest of the work for tomorrow and then go back to her home and take a good rest.
 
(Half an hour later)

As Iris Augustine's chauffeur-driven Bentley purred its way through the city, Jak sat back in the leather seats, feeling relaxed, and yet puzzled. He knew that Iris was mad at him, and the expression on her face made it obvious. yet, so far, she hadn't admonished him, hadn't tried to taunt him with the power she held over him, in fact - she hadn't even spoken. He'd waited patiently at her office door, as she'd ordered, at the time they were scheduled to leave the office, followed her deferentially to the car, and taken his seat as she'd indicated.

It was hard to read her expression. She appeared calm enough, sitting there flipping few a sheathe of papers she'd brought from the office, paying him no attention whatsoever. Yet he had plenty of time to study her profile, and the absolute unmoving woodenness of her face, he was sure, was telling a story, if he could only read it. She wasn't looking stern, nor afraid. It was if she was deliberately arranging her features not to show any emotion. Her general demeanor bordered upon the autistic in the way she seemed able to shut out any external influence, including his own presence. Her skirt had ridden up again, and she'd made no effort to adjust it, nor was she bothering to fix the slight caking of her eye make-up that (since her seat had a vanity mirror facing it) she was surely well aware of. Was this a pose, he wondered. Or her normal personality, her way of retreating and relaxing after a long day?

He decided to test it.

He began slowly and innocuously, by thumbing the switch that opened the window. The glass slid silently down, letting in the cold air outside and ruffling her papers, but she made no response. He shut the window again, and opened the bar, pulling out a miniature of Napoleon brandy. He put his finger over the hole, upended it, drank the contents, and then, with his finger, reached across and dabbed a small amount of it behind her ear.

Without waiting for her reaction, he turned and stared straight ahead, pulling out a cigar from the car's humidor, and lighting it with the lighter built into the rear console. He thumbed the window switch again, opening it to let out the smoke and sat there puffing, thoughtfully, awaiting her response.
 
It didn't take a genius to know that he would surely be wondering what's behind her expression. That, if she actually showed any expression. She didn't feel like explaining, and surely she didn't feel like telling him what was bothering her. Though, he probably knew already why she was like this. What woman in her right mind would not get mad at something like being mocked so crudely by a man who she used to have a crush on. Needless to say it was even worse given that she still kept those feelings for him. At this point, she almost wondered why in the world she would prefer him over any other better man? She had the looks, the money and all that, so she could easily find another man equal to her.

Yet, Cupid decided to play a prank on her. To torture her and show her the bitter part of the life. After all, you can't just have everything. And, it is a given fact that the things you can't have, the forbidden fruit, is always much better than the ordinary. In her case, loving someone who just escaped the jail sentence wasn't exactly the perfect man her parents would wish for.

Iris ignored his attempts to annoy her, whether by opening the window without her permission, ruffling her papers, opening the bar and pulling out her Napoleon brandy as if he owned everything. However, when she felt his finger behind her ear damp with the brandy, she couldn't help but turn her head at give him an expression that showed anger and confusion at the same time, one of her eyebrows raised as if to question what was that for.

Now he was playing hard to get. Else she couldn't explain what he was doing, pretending like it was nothing. "If you have something to say to me, you can use your mouth. Though, I'd rather not hear your voice for the rest of the night." she spoke, before she finally took something out of her purse to clean up the make up ruined by her earlier tears, avoiding any eye contact for now.
 
Anyone who has worked in a menial position knows about obeying orders. Other euphemisms may be used, of course. "directive." "request" "recommendation" "command". The words matter little. Essentially, the system is simple. The person with the higher status says that something is to happen, and the person of lower status ensures that their wishes are carried out. If matters little the order is counter-productive, pointless, impossible to satisfy or even dangerous. If it does not happen as ordered, the person of lower status is, invariably, at fault.

There are, of course, ways for the lower status person to fight back. One obvious way is to simply refuse to carry out the order. Sometimes this defiance works, particularly if the high-status person is unsure of themselves, or too busy to enforce it, if the order is illegal, if there is an even higher authority to appeal to. There are, however, often consequences when taking this road, and the one doing the defying must always be aware of them.

It was this method that first occurred to Jak when Iris made her wishes known. To say something loudly. Sing "la-la-la-la" in an annoying voice. Or hum the tune to an obscene ditty, one so well known that even Iris would be sure to know the words. To let fly with a stream of disjointed nonsense, or even obscenity, just to show her he refused to do as he was told.

It struck him, however, though he did not rationalize the situation quite this way (his thought processes being somewhat simpler) that while this course of action would serve to annoy Iris, it would not really serve his greater purpose. He would, in effect, be reacting to her orders, and thus, in a way, presenting the control of the situation to her. It would, as well, make him appear childish and stupid, thus confirming her opinion of him and giving him satisfaction.

While he sat and thought (making her think, in fact, that he was obeying her directive) another idea occurred to him. While one way to defy one's overlings is to refuse to obey them, there is another, equally effective method. That is, to do the exact opposite. To obey them totally and completely. This method is often close to infallible, since there is no comeback. "I was only obeying orders" is, in fact, a defense that has been hallowed through the ages.

And that, Jak decided, is what he would do. He had been instructed that if he had something to say, he should use his mouth. And yet, he was also under the constraint that Iris had indicated she did not wish to hear his voice. He would, therefore, obey her order completely and totally, in the only way she had left open to him.

Therefore, obediently, he reached across, quite silently, and locked his lips onto hers. So quickly did he move, with reflexes honed by years on the streets, that his kiss was in place, his tongue darting into her mouth, his arms around her (and holding her tightly, preventing any resistance, for her frail body was nowhere near a match for his) and his eyes open, watching to see her reaction.

There was something to be said, he thought, for obeying orders to the letter!
 
Given how silent he was, Iris was more than taken aback when she suddenly felt his lips on hers. She expected some mean remark, a mockery, but not this. For a moment there, she was shocked enough to simply look at him wide eyed, unsure of how to react. However, it didn't take too long until her own body reacted on its own, face turning redder up to her ears, heart racing at a faster pace and a slight shiver running up her spine.

On the other hand, the taste of his warm and wet tongue made the brunette have an inner conflict, because, damn it, she tried to be mad at him! But here she was, feeling like melting in spite of her attempts to push him away. How could she push him away when she could finally have this kiss she longed for some years ago so badly? She always tried to imagine her kiss with him (even if she knew they would never end up together at that time), but this was so much better. Besides, she couldn't even pull away if she tried, seeing how tightly he held her.

She hated how he seemed to watch her every reaction, probably taking joy in seeing her blushing while he probably forced himself on her just to annoy her. That mere thought made her frown slightly, hands pulling at his clothes to let go of her, attempting to stop the kiss by turning her head, to catch her breath. But to make her wish clearer, she simply stepped on his foot forcefully, applying as much pressure as she could.
 
Jak laughed as iris stamped on his foot. His shoes were too thick for the heel of her shoe to hurt, and her thin legs were nowhere near strong enough to exert enough force to cause him any discomfiture. It was a heady feeling of power - she was supposed to be the one in control, yet even exerting her full strength there was absolutely nothing she could do to stop him. Her face was as red as her lips. It must, Jak thought, be so humiliating - in her own car, to have to put up with any liberty he cared to take, and be powerless to stop him.

And yet, though she was turning her head away, though she was struggling, another thought came to him. Part of her was actually enjoying this. There was no way she could have told him to kiss her, not without revealing how much she wanted him. Had she maybe planned this? Deliberately given him that ambiguous order, so that while he thought he was scoring off her, she was in fact, tricking him and fully in control of the situation? Well, if she was, he'd keep at least come control - he'd only stop when he was good and ready.

So, forcing her head back so that their lips were together again, he moved his right hand and began sliding it up under her skirt, forcing the hem upwards, showing more and more of those lovely legs, glancing down and taking his fill. Yes, she certainly did have good -

What the fuck?

At first, he thought she was wearing stockings with garters, and that what he was seeing was the white of her skin where the stockings stopped. But as her skirt continued to move upwards, her feeble attempts to stop him totally ineffectual, he realized the feel was all wrong. This was not soft, female flesh he was encountering. It was slippery, shiny.

And then, despite himself, he burst out laughing. Helpless laughter, so strong he actually felt his stomach hurting.

He had not encountered, as he had expected, tiny g-string panties festooned with lace. On the contrary, whatever virtues Iris' private apparel might have lacked, modesty and practicality were not among them. The tight, white material, slightly wrinkled around her thigh where riding up had occurred during the course of the day had revealed her dreadful, and even slightly ridiculous secret. And now that he knew, he was sure she could never maintain authority again, no matter how she tried.

For he now knew, that the powerful, dynamic ice queen Miss Iris Augustine was wearing SPANX!!!
 
Annoyance once again occured as her attempts to stop him were pretty much useless, trying her best to avoid enjoying the kiss, only to find that she's failing in a horrible way. Her mind too busy with that, she almost didn't notice his hand moving under her skirt, until she felt the sudden warm hand traveling up her leg.

Hell on Earth. This was it. For a moment she almost forgot what she was wearing under, and when she did remember, she quickly tried to stop him, but to no avail. Her face became redder and redder with the embarrassment which was inevitable.

However, he could've at least tried to keep the laugh lower. Ashamed that she was found out, once he was busy with laughing his heart out, she swiftly fixed her skirt to hide her embarrassing piece of clothing, unable to raise her glance from the floor because of the excruciating shame. "A-as if you've never seen a woman wear something like this! Stop laughing!" she ordered.

Just as they arrived to her house, she obviously got out of the car first, even before the chauffeur would help her. "Miss Iris?" the older man seemed to question her behavior, worried at the sight of his employer being so red.

"You shut up, too! You're dismissed! Good night. Move it, Jak! If you don't hurry up you'll sleep on the doorsteps. And I'm not joking." she shouted, making her way towards the proud villa, while the chauffeur mumbled a meek good night and hurried to drive the Bentley back into the garage.
 
Jak had expected that dinner would take place with all the family present, a thing he had not been looking forward to. In fact, he learned that Iris had her own suite of rooms in the South wing of the castle, one of which - a tiny cubicle, containing a built-in wardrobe, a single bed, a chair, desk and bedside table - had been allocated to him. This didn't worry him too much - he had few possessions anyway, and it was still streets ahead of a prison cell, even the remand ones he'd grown used to - but when a rather plain servant girl came to lead him to the dining room he found himself growing apprehensive.

When he arrived and seated himself, he found it somewhat intimidating. There was a long table, set with flowers, and bowls of fruit. There were two settings, one at each end of the mahogany table, each with a small decanter of wine and a glass, and silver service. He sat in silence, thinking back over the day's events. Surprisingly, he had to admit that the satisfaction he'd got from kissing Iris against her will wasn't just because it was an act of defiance. He'd enjoyed it immensely for its own sake as well.

He remembered, too, the wink the chauffeur had given him when he'd been dismissed so angrily. At first he'd taken it for the wink one man gives to another, that says "Hey, you're on a promise there, pal," but when he considered it in retrospect it hadn't been that kind of wink at all. It was more the sign of recognition one downtrodden employee gives another when a tyrannical boss has somehow lost their dignity. The chauffeur, Jak suddenly realized, had found Iris' accidental revelation of her ridiculous underwear, and her subsequent mortification, as funny as he had!

He wondered if Iris would change for dinner and, if so, would she still be wearing her suit of armor underneath. For that matter, would she be dressing to impress him - which was a thought that did his ego a lot of good. Would she mention the events in the car, or pretend they had never happened? It seemed to him that for such a powerful women, Iris had a lot of weak moments... though when he thought how she'd been at school, it maybe wasn't that surprising.

What worried him slightly was that as well as wanting to trade on her weaknesses, part of him wanted to protect her, make her feel all right. And this was scary. But it was too late to dwell on that now, for he heard her footsteps approaching.
 
What Jak didn't know was that the villa was owned by Iris and Iris alone. The fact that the house was almost as big as a manor was just the proof of how rich she really was at the moment, even with the money she earned from her work at the company. While the left wing of the castle-like villa was almost forgotten, the rooms there only used for the guests or the family members who would decide to visit her from times to times, the other wing was where she spent most of her time. There she had a spacious bedroom, two bathrooms, an office-like room, two other rooms she rarely used (one of which was now occupied by Jak), all of them connected by a single long corridor leading both to the other side of the house and downstairs.

Let's say dinner was always a fancy event for Iris. Even if most of the time she was alone. Simply sitting at the end of the table in her own personal castle, having people do things for her, it was the greatest feeling she could wish for. Well, almost.

Either way, the brunette didn't bother to wear the same fancy clothes all day long. At home, she wanted to feel comfortable. Even if Jak would still be there to mock her. And regarding that, she now wondered how would she cope with sleeping in the same house with this man. No matter how you looked at it, it was kind of a bad idea. However, as happy as she was on the day she got the lucky ticket (meaning the day the charity chose a new employee for her company), she never considered the fact that choosing her own place to let him live in was the worst thing she could have thought of.

But, that was in the past now. She had to act according to the present and the future.

The first thing she did when she reached her room was definitely taking off the one undergarment that embarrassed her earlier. She almost blushed again as she remembered how loud her was laughing at her. Mentally cursing him, she walked over to her wardrobe and picked a loose beige blouse and a pair of black shorts, this time leaving only the bra and the panties on. No way she would be mocked again. Not that she would actually let him get close again. Nope. Not so soon, and not on her watch. She would have actually left the bra aside too, but if she had to be honest, it felt awkward to wear no bra knowing that he would be around. There goes the comfortable place she called home.

As soon as she walked out of the room, the mobile started ringing, reminding her that she couldn't really forget about work yet.

"No, I'm fine. I'm old enough to take care of myself." she spoke as she walked downstairs towards the dinning room, her voice echoing due to the corridors' nature. "Yes, I'll send you an email tomorrow morning. Mhm. Alright, good night. Send mother my regards." she added and hung up, placing the phone back in the pocket of her denim shorts, just as she entered the dinning room.

Now, here was the problem. There would always be some of the maids around her, especially at dinner time. So, Iris was now stuck to trying to keep her 'mistress' image she worked so hard for. If he would dare and mock her in front of the servants, she had to act pretty smart and be as calm as possible. For now, she glanced at him as she took her sit, a glare that clearly stated "Don't even think of it! Mock me and you'll end up in Hell." It was that kind of stare.

"I'm sure you've noticed that there are already some clothes prepared for you in your room. From now on, you'll be wearing those at work. You can call it some sort of a 'uniform' for work. One of the girls here will show you where's the kitchen, the bathroom and the study room. You can wander around, except for my room and the bathroom next to it. If I'm in my office it means I'm working, so I'd rather not have anyone disturb me unless it's for a very good reason." she explained, before one of the maids arrived with the food.

"Is that understood, Jak?"
 
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