Gretchen Lovewell - Faustian Bargain - Sex Stories

Gretchen Lovewell - Faustian Bargain

Gretchen Lovewell

The day I sold my soul began like any other. I had a lunch appointment with Farah Hojjat, the Executive Assistant to the CEO of the Foncault Group. She wanted to fill me in on the background for a multi-billion-dollar merger deal that I was working on as a corporate lawyer employed by Brewster Bailey Hamilton LLP (BBH). BBH had been retained to represent the Foncault Group by the CEO, Jack Grierson and he had insisted that I handle the deal for my firm, even though I was only a junior associate. It meant an enormous bonus for me – and I had Jack to thank for that. (See my story, Gretchen Lovewell.)

Farah was already waiting for me at Fernando’s, a toney bistro that catered to the executive crowd. She was petite where I am tall, had a heart-shaped face as distinct from my more oval one, big brown eyes as opposed to my baby blues, and hourglass womanly curves that contrasted with my athletic figure. Would Jack choose me if he had to choose between us, I wondered.

She was dressed as I was myself, in a dark business suit with a short, tight skirt, chiffon blouse, and single-button jacket that hung open. She wore a red silk choker and very high heels. She had told me that she was Iranian by birth but had been sent to boarding schools in England at a young age, then on to Oxford for university and business school. Her accent was distinctly upper-class British.

The waitstaff seated us in a corner booth, secluded from the rest of the restaurant by a ...

... high partition. A waiter had been hovering and he quickly came by to take our order. We both ordered virgin spritzers.

“We’ll wait to order food,” said Farah. “We’ll be joined by some colleagues. They should be here any minute.”

Almost on cue, two women were shown to our table by the waitstaff. Both were tall and extremely athletic. One looked very young, even younger than me, the other was a bit older, in her thirties or forties, it was hard to tell. Farah and I stood up and she introduced us.

“This is Gretchen Lovewell,” Farah said to the two new arrivals. “She’s an associate at Brewster Bailey Hamilton.”

“Amy McAdams, Vice President Operations at Amtex Reinsurance” said the older woman, shaking my hand. “This is my colleague Ryder Fox.” (See my story, Ryder Fox Rocks.)

We all sat down. The waiter reappeared and we all ordered lunch.

“Is Amtex part of the merger deal?” I asked.

“I’m afraid I brought you here under false pretenses, Gretchen,” said Farah. “I don’t want to talk to you about the merger deal. I want to talk to you about Jack. That’s why Amy and Ryder are here.”

“Where’s Jack?”

“He’s overseas troubleshooting in the Middle East and Russia,” she replied. “I had to backstop some things for him this morning.”

“Any women involved?” I asked, half joking.

“With Jack, there’s always women involved,” Farah replied, deadpan.

“Oh,” I said.

“I am privy to all corporate communications at Foncault,” said Farah. “Only Jack knows the full ...