Personal Services - Sex Stories

Personal Services

... his chair, his steely eyes studying her face. Finally he spoke. &#034I built this company with my own two hands,&#034 he rumbled. His voice rose as he continued. &#034I put in hundred hour weeks, gave up on having a f****y, fought off take-overs and ruthless competitors. I put my own bl**d and sweat into it for the last thirty years!&#034 He was nearly shouting, red in the face with anger as Mary quailed before him. He took a deep breath, settling back as he calmed himself. &#034That's why,&#034 he continued in a more subdued tone, &#034I take it personally when one of my people steals from me.&#034 With a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, she asked in a small voice, &#034What are you going to do?&#034 &#034I could turn this over to the police,&#034 Beck said, pointing at the folder Feinberg held. &#034A call to my golfing buddy the D.A. and old Walt there goes away for ten-to-twenty.&#034 Walter appeared as if he would be sick any moment now. &#034We take away the company cars you both drive, foreclose on the mortgage the company holds on your home, and, since it seems he doesn't have any of the money left, we'd put a lien against your personal belongings to recoup some of our loss.&#034 Mary's hands were shaking so badly she had to set the coffee cup on Beck's desk lest she spill it. &#034Of course, without Walt's income, you would have to get a job. In today's market, with your lack of job skills, you might get on as a maid somewhere. If not, there's always ...

... welfare. You'd certainly have to pull your k**s out of that fancy private school they go to, send them to public school with the gangs and dope pushers. College is out of the question. You've got one nearing college age, don't you?&#034 Head spinning, Mary murmurred, &#034Susan. She's 17.&#034 &#034Ah, yes. Susan,&#034 Beck said, smiling. &#034And your son John is how old, 16? And little Nikki is 14?&#034 Mary nodded blindly. &#034Well, maybe they could get jobs to help make ends meet. At any rate, your life will be very much changed.&#034 He fell silent, letting the reality of the situation sink in for a long moment. &#034Or...&#034 he said finally. Mary looked up hopefully. &#034You could work off your husbands debt.&#034 Mary was taken aback. She had no job skills, he'd said so himself. What could she do? &#034W-work?&#034 she stammered. &#034You mean for the company?&#034 Beck snapped his fingers at Feinberg, who whipped another document out of his folder. &#034This is a personal services contract,&#034 Feinberg explained, handing the several-page document to Mary, &#034between yourself and Mr. Beck for a term of 5 years. Your annual salary would be $64,000, which would revert back to B.I.I. against the amount of Mr. Conley's debt.&#034 Mary studied the contract, but all her reeling brain could pick out was a bunch of &#034party of the first part&#034 and &#034wherefore&#034 and &#034thereas&#034 legalese. &#034What would I be doing?&#034 she asked. &#034Just what it says,&#034 ...