Denise

*** Chapter 4, Infiltration

Diane sat in the office the next day. Even though she had a somewhat raw behind she glowed with happiness at her new status. She already felt like Jake's wife. Even though it was a secret she walked on air with the feeling.

Jake was away on a business meeting in Texas but she could scarcely contain herself as she went about her duties. Telephone calls, appointments to be made and an appointment with a lawyer that she had to sit in as Jack's witness to documents that needed signing.

Jake's private office was a realm apart from the rest of the office so she had a quick shower and dressed, leaving of the lacy underwear that simply rubbed against the cane weals from last night's encounter. Her pussy still ached from the pounding that Jake had given her. Half in her own world of heaven as Jake's new wife drinking cocktails at parties with the social elite and half in the office she started at a knock on the door.

The door opened to reveal a young man in casual dress. Hurriedly she slipped on her shoes and stood to face him.

“Hi,” he said in a friendly way. "Name's Jim. I've come to check the computer and modem link."

Diane looked quickly at the appointment book and noted that he was half an hour early. "ID?" she asked.

For a moment he rooted in his jeans before producing the pass for the building that he should have been wearing. "This is the one,” he said as he showed it to her. "Got nowhere to pin it."

In his hand was a well-worn airline pilot's bag. He set it down by Jake's desk and flipped it open. Diane glanced into it to see tools and computer parts.

"How long will you be?" She asked.

"Not sure. Probably under an hour."

Jim started work on the two computers in the office. For a while Diane watched him open them up and start to work on the insides. They passed a few comments about the weather before she attended to some of the jobs that she could do without using the computers. Jim mounted a couple of video cams on the monitors.

"Video conferencing,” he remarked as he wired them in.

"Does that mean that they are on all the time?" Asked Diane.

"No, only when the program is running,” he answered as he worked. "But, because the Internet connection is on all the time you will occasionally hear the hard drive working even when the computer is not being used,” he commented.

Jim hummed under his breath as he worked. After working the cameras into the system he installed the software. This would ensure that the cameras ran constantly and stored the film in the hard drive to be downloaded when needed.

Probably at night he thought, then the last 24 hours of video could be taken. Now for the sound. He installed the software and the extra microphones and started to work on the program that would sift through the data on the disk every few hours and extract any new data entered.

Letters typed on the word processor.

Updated spreadsheets and any modem communication with other computers, phones or the Internet.

As the work was done Diane asked a couple of questions that showed that she understood the computers.

"If you experience any problems with the computer just call me,” he said as he gave her a card with his mobile phone number.

Diane filed the card and helped him tidy the mess of snipped wires and the inevitable two screws that had come out but found no place as the machine was reassembled.

"We need to test the system now," he said as he closed his bag.

He turned on both computers and waited. He then showed her the software. As she sat he stood behind her and guided her through the program. He marvelled at her figure. Wasp waist and big breasted she was definitely a turn on. His boss had warned him but the reality made him sweat with lust.

Finally he left the secretary and office behind him, secure in the knowledge that if he wanted to see her again he would just have to download the pictures from her computer.

His next stop?

Diane's flat on Central Park. Cameras, software, surveillance and microphones, that was his job, and he was an expert.

***

Joan Lorde had never been in the arms of her lover. She was not one to cuddle and kiss in bed. Her sulky disposition and repressed social bearing had a balance. Growing up in a family where the children were at arm’s length and the servants were there to be ordered around had made her shy from contact, but paradoxically strong if she had the power to order others around.

She sought in her sex life a symmetry that could not be satisfied by loving contact. Never having been attractive as a child she had married late. Now that she was just short of forty she had never entertained the hope that some man would give her satisfaction.

Marriage, that was a contract.

Love, over the horizon, behind her.

Power, that was satisfaction.

The apartment was secluded, private and unnoticed. The woman that she thought of as her lover was really her servant. Gail, her lover, was her outlet, her release. Sometimes she only went there to order Gail around. Often for sexual release and sometimes because she enjoyed the secret life that she was living.

Tonight she sat on a low chair whilst Gail stood holding her cocktail nearby. Joan sat brooding. Somehow even her servant was unsatisfactory. She pondered finding another as she did every year or so by advertising in a fetish magazine. Gail was quiet and completely subservient. An ideal servant. With a flick of her fingers Joan indicated that she wanted a drink.

"Yes Miss,” said Gail as she passed the glass to her mistress.

Drink in hand Joan sipped twice and then passed it back. She knew that Gail wished to be punished but denied her the opportunity by ensuring that no drink was spilled.

"I have a problem,” said Joan without looking at her servant.

"Yes Miss."

"Simply put I have found out that my husband is screwing around."

"May I speak Miss?"

Joan ignored her and continued. "The worst is that I think that he wants to divorce me." Joan felt the unaccustomed feeling of a tear well up. Joan was sorry for herself, loss of status and the shame of divorce. She blinked quickly and continued. "I won't let him get away with it. And that bitch is going to suffer." Joan paused for a moment.

"Do you need help Miss?"

Joan looked at Gail. It was as if she had noticed her for the first time. Gail stood naked holding the cocktail. She was perhaps fifty, Joan had never thought to ask. Not unattractive but rather past her good looking years. Grey hair and heavily made up she seemed almost to be naturally subservient or at least diffident.

"How can you help?" asked Joan.

It seemed odd that Gail felt that she could. In fact it seemed impossible that Gail was capable of anything that required independent action.

"I can ask a friend." came the reply.

Joan knew that Gail was deeply involved in the fetish scene. How else could she have found the small ad that Joan had placed.

"Who?"

"I know a woman who ... " Gail hesitated for a moment as she sought to find suitable words to describe the most dangerous woman that she knew.

"Who?" asked Joan again.

This time her interest was aroused.

"I know a woman who specialises in solving these sort of problems." replied Gail.

"Speak to her. No. Better yet let her come here and I will speak to her,” said Joan quietly.

'That's it then.' thought Joan. 'I hire a servant and she has the contacts!'

"I shall be here at eight tomorrow night,” said Joan feeling that speaking her problem aloud had helped. If this did not work than she would have to speak to her private investigator. But, she loathed the idea of using a man to solve her problems.

Joan settled in the chair a little and spread her legs. Slowly she lifted the hem of her dress. This was as good as an order to Gail who placed the drink on a low table and crept between Joan's thighs. With a sigh of satisfaction Joan put her feet on her lover's back to allow the heels to rest on the soft flesh of Gail's lower back.

Gail slipped her tongue to her mistresses lean pussy and gently massaged her. A small shudder passed through Joan and she dug her heels in. In response Gail worked her tongue and lips into the dry flesh and began to lick. The pain from the heels acted as an aphrodisiac to the naked servant as she noticed that Joan was becoming moist.

It moved her to greater effort.

It was so rare that Joan seemed to respond sexually that Gail could think of nothing but pleasing her mistress. Suddenly it was over. A convulsion that scored Gail's back ferociously. This was what she wanted. Servitude, punishment and to please her mistress.

With a sigh Joan pushed Gail back on to her knees. Then suddenly she leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead.

"You really must do better,” said Joan. "Fetch me the quirt and I will teach you not to make me come so quickly."

As Gail fetched the leather strap she felt fulfilled. She almost danced to the cabinet and selected the heaviest of all the short whips. She had spent months waiting for this moment. It was like a dream come true. Her mistress was going to punish her properly at last and best of all she would meet Miss Clearmont.

Miss Clearmont would know how to deal with Joan as well as the tart that had stolen her mistress’s husband.