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China Doll
written by:
Jack Handee

I stared at the flickering computer screen and watched the spreadsheet in front of me curl together like day-old gravy. It was like a slow leak of gray matter was collecting in puddles across my desktop. Two million dollars in savings needed to be squeezed from a budget already gutted beyond recognition and I had a better guess why the Mona Lisa was smiling than I did for finding the missing money.

I know it sounds like I'm whining. From the outside looking in, executive life can seem pretty sweet. There's the country club membership, the corporate jet, the client schmooze events at five-star-resorts. Things could be worse, for sure. But peel back the flashy exterior and it can be a pressure cooker on the inside. The markets are more cutthroat than ever, eating bigger chunks of its young each day. All of us are expected to do more with less, do it faster, and, oh yeah, do it with a fucking smile too. I shouldn't forget the action item for replacing my beer-drinking-buddy's job with a half-priced Indian three oceans over. Most days it feels like one big corporate gang bang where guys like me are the lubricated guest of honor.

The door to my office cracked open and my temporary secretary, Mei Lin, peeked inside. She was just finishing her first month on the job since arriving on assignment from our Tokyo branch. The company had started a new employee exchange program, swapping personnel between international divisions to strengthen our "global diversity". In Mei Lin's case, she was here to fill in for Diane, my long-standing secretary who was on extended sabbatical taking care of a newly arrived granddaughter.

"Excuse please, Mr. Handee," Mei Lin said.

He voice was tiny and hesitant. I motioned for her to step inside. "Come in, Mei Lin . . . it's alright."

She stepped forward, bowing slightly as she approached my desk. Immediately I noticed something peculiar. It was her eyes. Large, dark, and almond shaped, they were normally bright and expressive, but today they were puffy and strained, like she had been crying.

"Your business person not on time," she told me.

"I'm . . . sorry?"

Her brow furrowed as she formed her words. "Your business person . . . Mr. Preston Sinclair . . . he not here."

I looked at the clock. "Preston's not supposed to be here for another fifteen minutes."

More confusion on her face. That part was normal. Mei Lin barely spoke English, something that was carefully masked on her transfer documentation as ‘acceptable to function on a foreign assignment'. I took that to mean she could stumble through daily conversations and stumble we often did.

I tapped the face of my watch. "Not time, yet, Mei Lin. The meeting is at four."

I held up some fingers for emphasis.

She shook her head. "No . . . he not here . . . he not coming here."

"Ohhhh . . . you mean he cancelled?" I gave a ‘no more' motion with my hands. "He's not coming at all?"

She smiled encouragingly and bowed again. "Yes, please . . . not coming at all."

I removed my glasses and squeezed the bridge of my nose. I'd counted on Sinclair to help with the missing pieces of this financial jigsaw puzzle I was trying to solve and finding him missing in action was only making a difficult situation harder.

"Figures," I answered. There was a moment of silence as I weighed my options. "I really need that data he's got."

Mei Lin stared at me, her hands laced in front of her, but said nothing.

"Oh well," I continued. "Just have to make do, I guess. Thanks for telling me."

I went back to work, but felt her presence linger. When I looked back, she was standing at the edge of my desk and watching me.

"I go now," she finally said, starting to turn away.

"Mei Lin?"

She paused, then turned back, her puppy-dog eyes pleading. "Yes please, Mr. Handee?"

I hesitated before addressing the obvious. I really didn't have time to play Dr. Phil. With Sinclair blowing me off, the job in front of me was looming. Still, I could tell the woman had more to say.

"Everything okay?" I asked.

No sooner had my sentence finished that she broke down in tears. Even on my best day, which this definitely wasn't, I'm not good with weeping females. I reached to the credenza behind me and grabbed the box of tissues, pushing it across the desk. "Here . . . sit down."

She took a tissue from the box and sat in the opposing chair. Chauvinist that I am, it was hard not to notice how her knee-length skirt rose when she crossed her legs. Her business attire for the day was a form-fitting, lavender skirt, pleated all around. It cupped her narrow waist, then flared slightly across her hips. Her blouse was a lighter lavender, the top two buttons unfastened to reveal a slender neckline and a wisp of cleavage. While it was a professional and unassuming look, it definitely tugged at my imagination in a variety of inappropriate ways.

"Mr. Handee," she said between sniffles, dabbing her nose and tugging her skirt to cover her exposed knee. "Why nobody like me?"

"Not like you? Why do you say that?"

"None of ladies talk to me. I try and be nice and they not talk back . . . seem mad at me and I no do anything for them to be mad at me?"

So that was it. I suppressed a smile. Being liked wasn't Mei Lin's problem, but I could see how she might feel that way. The men in our office, particularly my executive peers, quite liked her. My little ‘China Doll' doll, they liked to call her. It wasn't worth trying to explain that she was from Japan and not China. I've heard more than a few water-cooler jokes about how tasty she would look in one of those cute little schoolgirl uniforms so popular in Asian adult videos.

While I'd guess her age between twenty and twenty-five, she had a young face laced with innocence combined with a rocking little Asian body that appears barely legal, baby-smooth skin, and ass-length raven hair that swings two and fro as she hurries about the executive halls. She was definitely admired—actually, lust would be a better description—but admired all the same.

While the male executives lusted, the female executives sneered, and I'm sure that was the source of her isolation. Simply put, women in our office can be catty when they're jealous and many were just that. They didn't like the attention Mei Lin drew from the men, which led to quick branding that she possessed more empty sex appeal than professional competence. I didn't think she noticed, but obviously I was wrong.

I spent the next few minutes trying to reassure her. I knew the language barrier between us only made for limited understanding, but she seemed to sense my sincerity.

"You're doing a great job, Mei Lin . . . we're lucky to have you here. You just keep doing the best job you can do and the others will come around. I promise."

She smiled, stood up, wiped her tears, and came around the desk to hug me. Not only did she look good, but she smelled wonderful.

"Thank you, Mr. Handee," she said, her arms hugging my neck, my nose nestled against the opening in her blouse. "You always be so nice. I go back to work now."

Her perfume stayed with me as she pulled away. "You're welcome," I said.

I turned to my computer so she wouldn't see me blush and was faced with the murky spreadsheet. Sinclair, you bastard, I thought to myself. He'd pay for blowing me off. "What a day," I whispered under my breath.

I closed my eyes, squeezed the side of my neck, and leaned my head in a stretch intended to break the gathering tension. At this rate, I wouldn't be home until after midnight.

Expecting Mei Lin to leave, I was startled when she returned and her hands began massaging my shoulders. Her strength was even more surprising. The woman couldn't weigh ninety pounds soaking wet, yet her fingers dug into me like they were banded in steel.

"Mei Lin help Mr. Handee feel better," she said.

In her country, the cultures and business climate are dramatically different than the United States. Males are dominant and I suspect shoulder massages were all but commonplace in her home office, if not part of a secretary's core job duties. How could I explain that life in the states was different? Very different. In fact, it could be pretty easy to misinterpret what was happening if somebody walked in and saw us like this.

I placed my hands on hers. "Mei Lin . . . that's very nice . . . but really, not necessary."

Once again, my words weren't registering. Her fingers only moved lower and her grip tightened.

"Sitting tight, Mr. Handee."

I chuckled at her misuse of the language. In truth, as irregular as the moment was, she was doing a damn good job of unwinding my stress. It seemed her job training extended to massage techniques, as she alternated with her elbow to apply pressure points that were painful at first, yet sent tingling sensations down my spine that left the surrounding muscles noticeably limber. As much as I needed to stop her, I kept buying a few extra seconds, as it felt too damn good. The more I gave in, the more I rationalized. She initiated the moment. It wasn't like I coerced her. For that matter, it was just a neck massage . . . no inappropriate lines being crossed. If she could help me to loosen up, I might actually find the missing money. A ‘win win', if ever I heard of one.

"Feels good, Mei Lin . . . thank you."

After a few steady minutes, her hands slowed, then stopped. With one palm still on my shoulder, she stepped to the side and stared down at me. "Mr. Handee like more?"

It was a question I allowed to linger, my gaze traveling up her pleated skirt and across her perky breasts as I considered all the inappropriate ways to answer. When our eyes met, she had a knowing smile, as if she could read my lecherous thoughts.

I cleared my throat and tried to remain composed. "That was very beneficial," I said. "I feel like a million dollars . . . or that I might find that two million I'm looking for."

Her head tipped to the side and her long hair fell across her chest as her brain worked to interpret my words. "You like?" she repeated.

I nodded vigorously. "Very much . . . very good." I took her hand in mine and stroked her fingers. "Very strong hands," I said.

She thought for a moment, then looked inquisitive. "You like . . . more?" she asked.

I laughed and gave her hand a squeeze. Her flesh was warm. "I'm okay now. Strong hands. Very helpful. Thank you."

Her expression changed. Gone for a moment was anything forced. I still detected a smile, but more genuine than before, with a hint of mischief in her eyes.

My heartbeat quickened when she leaned down and placed her tiny hand on my crotch. Her almond eyes met with mine. "Mei Lin help Mr. Handee to not sit so tight?"

My cock twitched and began to swell. I delicately lifted her fingers as my heart raced. "That's not . . . I mean, very nice of you to offer, but not what I meant."

She hesitated, then looked at me seriously. "Mr. Handee always nice to Mei Lin. Mei Lin want to be nice to Mr. Handee. Help him not sit so tight. Help him feel nice."

I laughed nervously. "Well, that's a very generous offer, but I need to pass."

She pushed her hair over her shoulder and walked to the door. I swallowed hard as she turned the latch into a locked position before returning to where I was seated.

"Mei Lin . . ." I said.

There was no reply as her thighs brushed against mine. Before I could say anything further, she dropped to her knees and shuffled towards me before spreading my legs.

"Mei Lin—" I whispered again, the words catching in my throat.

She looked up at me and smiled, pushing me back into the chair before her fingers loosened my tie.

"Mei Lin help Mr. Handee feel nice," she said, staring up at me with those innocent brown eyes.

My tie hit the floor and I took in a sharp breath. Her palms returned to my shoulders, ran down my chest, and settled on my belt buckle. One hand began unfastening while the other massaged the outline of my cock. I was fully erect, struggling to think of something other than how delicious her mouth looked.

"Not a good idea—" I finally managed.

"Not good?" she said, feigning concern. "Mr. Handee not like Mei Lin either?"

I inched my ass slightly off the chair as she traced the outline of my erection with her fingertips, draining my willpower. "I like you very much," I said.

She smiled again. "Mei Lin like you too."

Was I out of my mind? That was an easy yes. But at that moment, I was so overcome with a twisted blend of tension and desire that thinking straight seemed impossible.

I began to itemize the situation: late in the day; office almost empty; Sinclair canceling our meeting. What the fuck? It added up to a calculated risk, as impromptu as it all started. I leaned across, grabbed the box of tissues, and pulled it to the edge of the desk. Mei Lin smiled. Through all the false starts, we were definitely communicating now.

I licked my lips and studied her features as she continued stroking me through my pants. Her cheeks were high, her lips glistening under a coat of wet pink gloss, parting to reveal a gorgeous, white smile.

"Mei Lin helping Mr. Handee to not sit tight?" she asked again, this time more playfully.

My eyes fluttered and I smiled. "About to . . . about to help a lot . . ."

With her lower lip pinched in her teeth, she dragged down my zipper and slipped her fingers into the opening of my trousers, inching deeper while attempting to fish out my cock. I loosened the last few buttons of my shirt to create an empty space that exposed my stomach—a space that would hopefully catch any happiness before it spilled into a hard-to-explain stain.

Keep the pants on . . . take them off . . . ? There needed to be a plan should my office door suddenly spring open. Odds for that happening were low, but still, I stood a better chance at recovery if I stayed dressed than if my pants were tangled around my ankles. Truth be told, if somebody did walk in, I'd be busted in a way that couldn't be explained.

Fuck it. If I was going to bet my livelihood on a moment of indiscretion, I might as well be comfortable.

"Just a second," I said.

I forked a thumb in each side of my pants and shoved them downward to a mid-thigh level. Mei Lin caught on immediately, shuffling back on her knees and untying my shoes before removing my socks. She stood up, grabbed the cuffs of my suit pants and walked backwards. After removing my boxers, I was naked from the waist down. It was a delightfully sinful moment, sitting there exposed and stroking myself while I watched her neatly fold my pants, socks, and finally the shoes. It was like having my own, private geisha.

Once finished, she returned to her place between my legs. She nestled closer, her head tilting curiously to the side as her eyes fell to my cock, now fully engorged and pleading for her attention. She moved my hand aside and replaced it wither hers, using her long, red fingernail to tickle and tease the sensitive head before wrapping her fingers around me and squeezing.

Her hands were so small that it made my erection throb. I held on to the chair handles while she slid her clenched fist up and down my length. Like the shoulder massage earlier, she seemed practiced. After a few seconds of delicious stroking, she slid her thumb across the tip, masterfully spreading a layer of pre-cum across the spongy knob and down the sides before pumping me faster. I held my breath in a weak attempt to stay quiet, but I was proving unsuccessful.

"Good?" she asked in that same tiny voice, the squeaking sound getting louder as her wet palm rode up and down my shaft.

I nodded, clutched for breath, and then gasped.

"More, Mr. Handee?"

I covered her hand with mine and slowed her down. She looked at me expectantly. Leaning forward, I caressed her cheek, then moved lower and unfastened the top button of her blouse. I didn't want sex. I just wanted to see more of her delicious body when I came. Her gaze fell to my hands and she watched what I was doing, saying nothing. Still, I sensed her hesitance. My heart was beating wildly when her eyes returned to mine.

"I just want to look at you while you do this. Nothing more. Just look . . . you're so beautiful. Do you understand?"

She said nothing and picked up where I left off, working the buttons of her blouse downward, one after another, until the matching lavender bra hidden beneath came into view. Her breasts weren't overly large, but her frame was small, making them appear crowded in her bra. Resting between her cleavage was a small half-moon pendant dangling on a spaghetti-thin gold chain. It was a sensational view.

I watched as she finished unbuttoning the blouse, first pulling the tails from inside her skirt, and then unlacing her arms. She tossed the top to the chair where my clothes were folded before reaching behind her back and working loose the clasp of her bra. She braced her arm across her chest to hold her bra in place, hiding her nipples as she slid off the shoulder straps, one after the other. Her shyness was only fueling my desire.

"You're a beautiful woman, Mei Lin," I said, stroking my erection as I watched her.

After a few seconds, my cock still in hand, I leaned forward and slowly caressed her arm before gently tugging it away and removing the bra to reveal her chest. Her breasts were full and natural, with delightfully plump nipples that were larger than I expected. She was blushing as I playfully tossed the bra behind me and out of view. We laughed, breaking the tension.

I leaned back in the chair and worked my hand faster, drinking in her nudity. She played along, running her fingertips over her mouth before making wet circles around each areola. The whole eroticism of the moment was leaving me crazy. Was this turning her on as much as it was me?

She moved closer and her breasts brushed against my bare legs. Her hand replaced mine. This time she was all business. Nothing gentle. No teasing. She had a grip on my shaft and pumped my cock with both hands, one holding the base, the other stroking, then both stroking together. Her tits jiggled with the pounding motion as her eyes stayed locked with mine. I wanted to speak, wanted to convey how fucking incredible it felt, but the sentences wouldn't form. I could sense the warmth start to gather as my orgasm approached. My knuckles turned white as I squeezed the chair handles.

"Going to come," I managed, having no clue if she understood.

She processed my message. Only a few more seconds to eruption and, without warning, she slowed down, staying off my climax. I gasped, then laughed, as my need for release reached a fever pitch. She giggled at my frustration and, I'm sure, enjoyed the spell she had over me.

"Let me touch you," I said.

She said nothing in return. Without warning, her head fell to my lap and I felt her warm, wet mouth take me in.

"Oh, fuck—" I gasped.

Her motion was at first slow and methodical as she sucked, the thick shaft sliding effortlessly between her cheeks. Then she tightened her mouth around me, drawing me deeper with increased friction. After a few seconds, she came up for air and looked up at me with those almond eyes as her tongue swirled around the head and she pumped the shaft. A thick strand of pre-cum stretched from her bottom lip to my cock. Before I could speak, I was back in her mouth, her head rising and falling against my lap, my erection appearing and disappearing between her cheeks. Her lips closed tighter and locked around the sensitive head as I felt her tongue slide back and forth, tickling until my legs shook with pleasure.. The approach of my orgasm began a new ascent. Building. The temperature climbing. My breath growing more shallow.

"Mei Lin . . . stop . . . can't—"

She moved faster. I was trying to keep it back, which only pushed me closer to the edge. Coincidence or careful manipulation, I'll never know, but she pulled back in the final seconds, pumping me with her fist as I came in a long gush of semen that reached chin height before settling on my stomach, exactly in the space where I'd opened my shirt. She didn't flinch, didn't slow, pumping me harder as another surge came forward, then a final one after that. I was moaning uncontrollably, gasping and, no thread of personal composure left.

Until I heard the click of the intercom.

Our office is wired with a dedicated two-way speaker system that connects the internal executive office with the secretary station in the greeting area. Diane and I—or in these temporary times, Mei Lin—normally use it to communicate. It's designed for quick hits like dictation, or when visitors need to be announced from outside, or when one of us needs a fast answer to a question. The unit makes a loud click, followed be a squelch and the person on the sending end can talk, but can't hear anything until activation happens on my end. In those precious seconds, that feature saved my ass, as whoever was standing outside would have definitely heard my gasps of pleasure or, more likely, something akin to a mid-afternoon heart attack.

"Jack . . . you in there?" the voice asked through the speaker.

Mei Lin's eyes grew wide with surprise and she dropped my cock, her hand covered in semen. My heart pounded like a jackhammer. We both went for the tissue box at the same time. I grabbed a handful and so did she, each of us frantically trying to clean up. It took me several seconds to mop up the spill on my stomach.

"My PANTS!" I mouthed in a stressed whisper, pointing frantically. "Hand them to me."

She tossed her tissues in the waste basket and stood up, her breasts jiggling as her eyes darted about in frightened despair.

"Oh, Jaaack," came the taunting male voice over the intercom. "Too early for you to be leaving for the day. Thought you needed my help with the numbers? It's Preston. My client bailed, so I came over. You in there?"

Mei Lin tossed me my trousers, grabbed her blouse and laced it on, then frantically took it off again. "Fuck, where's my bra?!" she asked. "Where did you throw my bra when you took it off?"

I was trying to think fast. "Uh . . . There! Over . . . I mean under the printer stand!"

She stepped around me, grabbed it, and in record time had it pulled on, snapped, and the blouse halfway buttoned. I stuffed my underwear in a bottom drawer, then pulled on my pants, grabbed my socks, and was almost finished with my shoes. . .

That's when it hit me. Where did you throw my bra when you took it off? . . . her English . . . it was perfect. Gone was the fragmentation in her speech. Gone was any hint of an accent.

Then Preston's voice blared again over the intercom.

"Well . . . I guess you're not here," he said.

The only thing left was my tie. I grabbed it, looped it around my neck, and pressed a finger to my mouth in a signal for Mei Lin to stop what she was doing and be quiet as I pressed the intercom button.

"Sinclair . . . is that you?" I said.

Click—squelch. "Oh, so you are in there? What are you doing, jerking off?"

Mei Lin smiled and turned away.

"Sure, buddy," I said. "Whatever you say. Thought you were my secretary. Hey, could you grab me a cup of coffee while you're out there, maybe handle my filing?"

I was stalling for time as I tied my shoes.

A long second, then another squelch. "Very funny, Jack," Preston said.

Seconds later, the door handle rattled, followed by a knock. "Open up!" I heard him say.

"Yeah, be there in a second."

I stood up, finished with my tie and stopped by the wall mirror mounted on the back of my door to straighten my clothes. I motioned for Mei Lin to stand to the side where she wouldn't be seen before opening the door to greet Preston.

"Listen, I'm glad you're here," I said, blocking his view into my office. "But I was serious about the coffee. I'm dying for a cup. C'mon, I'll buy."

I walked out, leading him from the half-opened door, down the hallway, and around the corner to the executive cafeteria, stalling with small talk while I provided Mei Lin time for an exit of her own.

-=-=

The drive from my house in the suburbs to the office takes a little over an hour. The following morning it seemed to glide by in less than ten minutes, a symptom of too much on my mind. Preston was right; he did have some creative ideas regarding my financial mess. Not a surprise, as he's our division hotshot, always pulling down numbers the way magician's pull rabbits out of hats. For me, I could plod through a spreadsheet and understand the fundamentals of budget management, but I'll never be one of those whiz kids who stares at a page and does quantum calculus in his head. Preston is one of those guys.

I admit it was pretty exciting watching him hammer out the math, showing a bottom line improvement of over two and a half million. However, while I lag in the math department, I know my business and asked enough questions to decide what's too good to be true often is.

In simple terms, his recommendations were risky at best. It involved manipulating data to make it look like money had been made, when in reality, the revenue was still outstanding. Sort of like buying on credit cards, accumulating vast amounts of material wealth that create an illusion of success, only to collapse under the installment payment plan. It was a scheme hinged on a windfall of cash in the second half of the year, enough to make up for the fudged numbers up front. Preston's assurance almost sounded foolproof, as he'd done the same thing before with success, but I still had my doubts. Doubts or not, I was desperate and needed something creative to pull me out of this mess. I told him I'd think it over and get back to him.

Beyond the financial problems, there was Mei Lin. I was still overwhelmed by the events of the previous afternoon. Exactly how I went from providing a shoulder to lean on to losing my pants and burying my cock in her mouth wasn't exactly clear. I'm usually painfully conservative at the office, not even flirting for fear of sexual harassment accusations. Closest I've ever come to anything risqué is some after-hours phone sex with a female friend I connected with through the stories I publish on the internet. That alone seemed daring and it was all but anonymous, not to mention conducted over long distance.

I think the leap of indiscretion with Mei Lin happened because it seemed contained, if not a secret that wouldn't be easily leaked. Let's face it: if the woman can barely speak English, gossip isn't a measurable risk.

But more than that, I felt like we connected in the short time since she arrived in the states. I wanted to believe that things became so heated between us because there was something beyond just physical lust. I wanted to believe she would understand the implications of sharing our little secret and keep it between her and I.

But there was still one problem. When she asked me about her bra, she revealed something totally unexpected. That was the part that haunted me; if she had lied about her language skills, what else didn't I know?

I parked my car in the downstairs garage and took the elevator to the executive floor. It as just after eight and the halls were already buzzing with activity. I issued my usual greetings in reception and walked the corridor to my office. Mei Lin was poised at her secretary station when I rounded the corner. She wasn't alone. The college kid from the mail room was making his deliveries. His wire cart full of letters and packages was parked in front of her desk. He was doing most of the talking while she smiled pleasantly. I was sure the conversation was a front, giving him a good angle to peek down her dress.

She turned to me as I approached and we made eye contact. I studied her for a reaction. Fundamentally, our relationship had changed overnight. Having a dick in a woman's mouth will do that.

Despite everything that had transpired, all seemed normal. It was the same pleasant smile I see every morning. She handed me my daily calendar along with a stack of mail just delivered by horny-boy.

"Good morning, Mr. Handee," she said, bowing her head slightly without standing.

"Morning, Mei Lin."

I entered my office, took a seat in my chair, and started sorting through the mail. Our usual routine proceeded, with her appearing a few minutes later to bring me a cup of coffee. I accepted it, weighing my next move.

"Mei Lin," I said, as she turned to leave.

"Yes please, Mr. Handee?"

I hesitated, unsure of what I really wanted to say. "Uh . . . about yesterday. I hope you're okay?"

She looked puzzled. "O-kay?"

"I mean . . . with . . . what happened between us." She gave me her usual look of confusion. "You know . . . "

I made a pumping motion with my hand, which helped to break the tension as we both laughed.

"It won't happen again," I added.

Her face turned grave. "You mad with Mei Lin for making you feel nice?"

"No . . . no . . . not mad at all. I just want to make sure you're okay. You know, that you don't feel uncomfortable around me."

She nodded. "Mei Lin fine."

She waited for another awkward second, then turned to leave. As I watched her ass—the sensational ass that it is—I still had this uneasy feeling we were playing some twisted game of charades.

"Mei Lin," I said before she reached the door.

She turned. "Yes please, Mr. Handee?"

I had to give her credit. Whatever this act was, it was convincing.

"I think it's time we stop playing games, don't you?"

She looked puzzled. "Games?" she said. "No understand."

I allowed for a moment of silence, if only for effect.

"I think you do understand, Mei Lin. I think you understand everything I'm saying and I think you probably speak perfect English too. Yesterday . . . do you not remember asking me about your bra? Before you had time to think?"

She stared at me without answering.

"I remember. I think it went something like, ‘where did you throw my bra when you took it off?' I added. "A nice, complete, articulate sentence. Queen's English if ever I heard it. Now tell me, what's really going on here? And, please . . . save the ‘no understand' line for another time."

She stared at me, but this time I sensed no bewilderment. Every word I said was registering. With no answer, she closed the door. When she turned to me, her demeanor was noticeably different. Her gait was full of assurance as she moved towards my desk. She pulled back the chair and sat down, her shoulders back, her eyes fixed with mine as she crossed her legs, giving little consideration to how much of her thigh was exposed by her rising skirt.

We stared at each other for several seconds, each waiting for the other to make the first move.

"Well, Jack," she finally began. "I can call you Jack, can't I? Seeing how we sort of bonded last night."

I was careful not to let my jaw drop. Poker face, I reminded myself. Let her take him it from here.

"Sure . . . call me Jack."

"Thanks. You're right, I do speak English. And write it also, much better than those hack secretaries you have muddling through their bosses' dictation. It always amazes how mono-lingual people can't expend the energy to learn their own language. I speak four, in case you were wondering."

This was too fucking weird.

"Impressive," I said. "So why the innocent Japanese girl act?"

"Pretty simple," she said. "You'd be surprised what people will say when they don't think you'll understand. I know all sorts of things about this office."

"Do you now? Shock me with your knowledge."

"Alright . . . you know Phelps, the head of sales?"

"Of course I do."

"Sleeping with his aerobics instructor," she said flatly.

I chuckled. "Don't think so . . . he's like Mr. family guy."

"Agreed. That's why he keeps partitions in his life. His word, not mine. Separates church and state . . . wife from mistress. He's found himself a little somebody on the side who'll let him ride her doggy style. I guess his wife's a little uptight in that department. Ms. Aerobics also wears some sort of theatre mask while they're doing it. I stopped listening when it got to that part. Too much information, you know? Evidently he pays for her apartment in the city in exchange for conjugal visits."

I didn't respond. The truth was, I had heard all about Phelps and his life partitions, although the theatre mask part was new for me too and, I agreed, too much information. He'd done some macho bragging at a happy hour after he'd thrown back one too many beers. While his affair wasn't widely publicized, it was only him and I that night and I knew very few others had the same details, which added some credibility to Mei Lin's story.

"Interesting . . . so you play dumb to learn everybody's dirty secrets?" I asked.

"Hardly. I play dumb to accomplish what I was brought here to do."

"Good secretaries are anything but dumb, Mei Lin."

"No offense to anybody on the floor, Jack, but I'm not a secretary. I have two graduate degrees, one in international business and another in international finance. I have the equivalent of your certified public accounting degree. I could run circles around most of the executives on this floor. I'm not here to fetch coffee . . . I'm here to find a snake."

My mind was racing. I tried to recount any conversations I had in Mei Lin's presence—conversations I might have forgone.

"You're losing me."

"Somebody is cooking the books here and I've been sent from corporate to figure out who that somebody is before they do real damage."

"Cooking the books? You can't be serious?"

"Oh, but I am. Serious as a heart attack."

"Why are you telling me all this?" I asked.

"Well, I sort of have to, now don't I? Otherwise you're liable to blow my cover."

"What's stopping me from doing that anyway?"

She thought for a moment. "Well, I'd like to think you'd do the right thing. Whoever is doing this, it's bad for business, and that affects all of us, you included. But if I need collateral, I suppose there's that mutual secret we now share. You keep mine and I'll keep yours. Besides, do you really want to get sucked into this?"

"More than I already am?" I spun in my chair and stared out the window as I tried to figure out just what the fuck I was going to do. "So, what do you want?"

"Who said I want anything?"

I got up and started to pace the room. "This isn't making sense."

"No sense? It makes total sense," she said. "Corporate knows somebody is messing around with the financials. If they send in a SWAT team to find out what's happening, the person or persons will hunker down and everything will look normal. They use me to sniff them out. Your division keeps showing profits, Jack, yet you're bleeding money somewhere. It's not making the bottom line in the end. If they don't figure out who it is and surgically remove them, damage to the company's reputation—not to mention the stock price—could be devastating, especially if it leaks to the media. Think of me as a cleaner of sorts. Here to root out the bad blood before it's too late."

"How do you know it's not me cooking the books?"

"Because you can barely add two numbers together. Don't get me wrong. You're smart as hell and a great executive. Your customers love you. But, let's be candid—finance isn't your bag. I've already looked over your spreadsheets. You really should be more careful with sharing your passwords to the network."

"I only share them with my secretary."

"And look what that got you," she said with a wry smirk.

"Yeah . . . look what that got me. Teach me to think with my dick."

She was taken back by my comment. "What's that supposed to mean?"

I was losing my cool. I didn't know if I felt duped or just plain stupid.

"I just feel pretty naïve, that's all. I should have seen your little tactic coming and instead I was suckered into it, probably like all the rest. Tell me, how many men have you had to screw in the office to build your snitch network, Mei Lin?"

She stared at me, her eyes etched with tension. In truth, I have no idea where my question came from, as it's definitely not in my character to be so abrasive. All I know is that I was feeling desperate. I had no real idea what I had gotten myself into and could see all too clearly how quickly I would be ruined if the tryst with Mei Lin was discovered. She had me over a barrel and the words were tumbling out of my mouth, jagged and toxic, before I had time to think.

But when I saw the hurt in her eyes, I knew I had gone too far.

She never answered my question, instead standing and marching for the door. I bolted past her, pushing the door shut with a thud before she could leave.

"Get out of my way, Jack. I mean it."

Despite her attempt to restrain herself, the tears were welling in her eyes and I can't think of many times in life when I felt smaller than I did at that moment.

"Mei Lin . . . I'm sorry. That was totally out of line."

Her chin trembled and she wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand. "You're right, it was out of line. Now would you move so I can leave?"

"No," I answered.

"Excuse me?"

"Can we just sit for a second so I can explain?"

She looked away and stood there motionless, her hand never leaving the doorknob.

I took her by the arm and led her to the nearby leather couch situated in the conversation area on the far side of my office. Once she was seated, I moved to the desk, grabbed the tissue box, and then joined her.

"Here," I said. "There's still some left over from yesterday."

She laughed nervously and dabbed her eyes. "What is it about this place? It's made me cry twice in two days. I'm supposed to be a pro at this stuff."

"So, yesterday . . . the tears . . . that part was real?"

She glared at me over the top of her tissue.

I held up my hands in defense. "Hey, I didn't mean it like that. It's just, I don't know what to believe right now. You're a pretty good actress."

She nodded. "Fair enough. Yes, the tears yesterday were all real. Women can be so catty."

"What happened?"

"It's not worth going into. I was just having a bad day. It can be exhausting having to portray this double existence day in and day out, and it's even worse with no friends. Most days it doesn't bother me, as I can't be myself anyway, even after hours, but yesterday, it just all got to me."

"I'm sure it is hard. . . and I'm sorry for my part in upsetting you. It's just, all this is really unsettling. But I have to hand it to you. We've spent a lot of time together and you had me fooled, right up until the eleventh hour."

We sat in silence as she twisted at the tissue between her fingers. "I need to tell you something, Jack."

After everything that happened, I only wondered what she had to say next. "Go ahead."

She looked into my eyes. "That thing that happened between us yesterday . . . that was between us and nobody else and it had nothing to do with what I'm here to do. You're the only one I've been intimate with in this office. Mistake or not, I didn't do it to have something to hold over your head. I did it because I like you and I felt a connection between us."

I smiled. "I like you too."

"I've never done anything like that before," she continued. "It was just a really spontaneous moment and I went with it, which is way out of character for me. I'm usually too caught up in staying in control to ever do something so daring."

I laughed. "I know exactly what you mean. Believe me, it was further that I've ever gone in a situation like this, you can be sure of that."

"You were just so supportive when I came to talk to you and I felt this incredible connection between us . . ."

I could completely relate to everything she was saying. More relevant, that same connection she described from the day before felt stronger now than ever. There were crisp images etched in my memory of her kneeling before me, half-undressed, the smell of her perfume, the taste of her skin, the warmth of her mouth as it surrounded my cock.

I used my thumb to smooth away a tear that was still visible on her cheek. She looked up at me with those almond shaped eyes.

"I really am sorry for being a jerk," I said.

She smiled and shrugged it off. "Not a big deal. We've got a busy day. Your have the Matthews meeting at one—"

I interrupted her sentence when I leaned in with a heartfelt kiss. She stiffened slightly in surprise, but didn't pull away. Her lips were soft and her scent was fresh from her morning shower. The kiss that began gently quickly moved faster. While hard to describe, sitting there fully clothed with our mouths melting together in a hungry embrace felt more intimate than our half-naked encounter the day before.

Her lips opened and our tongues met as I scooted closer. I ached for her. Her hand slipped to my leg, yet stopped in neutral territory. So badly I wanted her to touch me, to unsnap my pants, to wrap her tiny hand around my swelling cock. My own fingers caressed her knee and then climbing along the inside of her thigh. At first she allowed me, but then quickly placed her hand over mine, halting my advance.

"Tonight," Jack. "It's too dangerous here."

"Everything about us is dangerous, Mei Lin. Why should this be any different?"

She laughed and kissed me again, her hand leaving my thigh and caressing my chest. I was fully erect, engulfed with a need to take her, not later, not somewhere else, but right then and right there. I pushed her hand down to my belt in a signal I wanted more while leaving her in control. Her fingers lingered, but refused to go further. I went to work on the buttons of her blouse, loosening two and almost a third before she stopped me again.

"Jack . . . it's not like last night. There's people all around this time of day."

I ignored her objections and buried my mouth against the soft flesh of her neckline, working my way to her earlobe, nibbling and kissing.

"I want you, Mei Lin . . . I want you so badly."

Her chin nodded in rhythm with the movement of my mouth. Her fingers curled around my belt, pulling it loose before giving a hard tug to undo the buckle. I helped with my pants, unfastening the snap as she dragged down the zipper.

"Lean back," she said.

With a deep breath, I did as she told me, pressing my back into the cushion and arching my ass, working my pants to a mid thigh level. She assisted by pulling down my boxers. My cock sprang free, thick and alive with arousal. Her little hand wrapped around the shaft and her long black hair tickled my skin as her face moved lower, her tongue pressing wet circles around the swollen, pink head.

"Now?" she whispered with a giggle, teasing me.

"Now—"

Her mouth wrapped around me and she sank lower. I moaned in pleasure and she rose quickly. "Jack . . . if I'm going to do this, you have to be quiet."

I ran my fingers through her hair, gently returning her head to my lap. "Okay . . . I promise. Just don't stop."

She smiled and made more of those same delicious circles with her tongue. I watched her, taking in her features. The dark eyes, the porcelain smooth complexion, her lips, now moist with the glisten of my pre-cum.

My heart raced as she stroked me and then gripped the base of my shaft as the spongy knob disappeared between her cheeks. My fingers clawed at the sofa cushion for support. The things this woman could do with her tongue were almost criminal. The hot, wet confines of her mouth tightened around me and she varied her suction, sinking lower, and then withdrawing. I chewed on my lower lip in an attempt to keep from screaming as I fucked her mouth.

"This is torture," I whispered.

She giggled and pulled up, wiping the corner of her mouth with her finger. "Trust me, you're not the only one feeling it. I get so hot when I do his."

My head fell back and I stared at the ceiling as she swallowed me again, a guttural moan rising as she drew my cock deeper into her throat. She pulled back and plunged again, then again after that. My legs quivered and I knew I wouldn't last much longer.

"Mei Lin," I managed, knowing I should warn her.

She immediately pulled up, my member falling from her lips with a thud, heavy and aching.

"What, are you trying to kill me!" I said.

She giggled and stood up, straightening her skirt before moving further away. "Is it hot in here, or is it just me?" she asked coyly, turning and leaning against the edge of the desk.

"You're such a tease, you know that?"

"Want me to take some dick-tation now, Mr. Handee?"

That made me laugh. I stroked myself and stared at her, drinking in her beauty. She smiled in return, her eyes brimming with her own arousal.

"I like it when you look at me and touch yourself," she finally said, sliding her fingers to expose her cleavage between the buttons I had unfastened earlier.

It was incredibly arousing to masturbate while she watched.

"That's . . . a . . . ." I was having problems forming the words as I stroked in rhythm. "Good thing. You're a beautiful woman, Mei Lin. And all this mystery . . ."

She unfastened another button and pulled her blouse to the side, revealing a hunter green lace bra before closing it quickly in another tease.

"Want to come over to my place tonight?" she asked. "You know, us corporate spies know all the best torture techniques."

I let go of my cock and stared at her. There was no waiting until tonight. I leaned forward and pulled off my shoes, ignoring the laces, and then followed with my socks."

"Jack!" she said, an edge of alarm in her voice.

I inched up enough to raise my pants so as to retain some form of dignity before standing up.

"Jack!" she repeated, giggling. "What are you doing!?"

I removed my tie and then pulled off my shirt and tossed it to the couch, then lowered my zipper and let my pants and underwear drop to the floor. I stepped forward, completely nude, and walked towards her, my erection leading the way.

She was giggling uncontrollably, her hands cupped across her mouth as she turned pink. "Are you out of your mind?! Put your clothes on! Somebody could walk in here any second!"

"Hope they don't," I answered. "And, yes, I am out of my mind. I'm crazy about you."

"Oh, brother," she said between giggles, kissing me when I reached her. "At least lock the door."

"No . . . the door needs to stay unlocked. Makes it a little more dangerous and, let's faces it, Mei Lin, we both like it when it's dangerous."

Her hands ran down my bare chest and she cradled my erection in her fingers, gently tugging me towards her.

I pressed my mouth against hers, leading and drawing out the rhythm of our embrace. My palms ran down her shoulders and squeezed her arms, moving across to the front of her blouse. She arched her chest, drawing in a sharp, aroused gasp as she continued to stroke my erection.

The pace of our kissing slowed, moving from frenzied awkwardness to something more deliberate. I continued with the buttons where I had left off until the blouse fell open. Her breathing was jagged, her breasts pushing against the green embroidered fabric of her bra.

She swallowed hard and stared into my eyes. "I've been imagining this since last night."

"I didn't stop with last night," I said. "Had you in the shower this morning."

My confession made her giggle. I helped her out of the blouse and then tossed it to the side. We continued to kiss as my hands moved around her waist where I found the clasp of her skirt. Once unfastened, I dipped to my knees and teased the garment down the glide of her hips. She wore black stockings that stopped at a mid-thigh level and a matching, hunter green thong, the same color as the bra.

I stared up at her from below. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you dressed for this occasion.."

She smiled and ran her fingers through my hair. "Victoria's Secret. I dress for me, but if you like it, that's even better."

"I like it very much."

I leaned in and kissed her stomach, drinking in her musk as I massaged the inside of her thigh with one had and her ass with the other. It occurred to me that I had been the recipient of all the pleasure in the past twenty four hours. Now it was her turn.

The room was quiet, the silence broken only by the sound of her shallow breathing that grew heavier and louder with each passing minute. I took on the role of the teaser, sliding my hand along the inside of her thigh, then down toward her knee, then up again. Eventually I reached the damp underside of her thong, stroking her pussy as her breathing grew heavy. My mouth came closer, my teeth nibbling at the elastic band of her underpants. I stared up at her from below and we smiled at one another as I slid her panties down her hips, revealing a raven bikini strip that gated her pussy. She leaned against the desk for support as I untangled the material from around her feet.

"I don't believe this," she breathed. "Come up here and kiss me."

"When I'm ready . . ."

I cupped an arm under the bend in her knee and hoisted her leg over my shoulder, burying my mouth against her inner thigh. She fell backward as she braced her palms against the desk, sending a wave of papers fluttering to the floor. I moved aggressively with my mouth, climbing higher and closer to her wetness. She sat upright and gripped the edge of the desk, trying to maintain her balance as I coxed her, ascending closer, only to slide back down until she shivered in anticipation.

"Talk about torture," she panted from between broken breaths.

I laughed and whispered between kisses. "All good things are worth waiting for, don't you think?"

I began with my tongue, drawing a thin line that finally brushed across the wet, bristly entrance of her pussy. I pressed harder, delving a path inside, bathing my face in the juices of her arousal as she gasped aloud. After a few seconds she was moving with the rhythm of my mouth, my tongue forging as deep as I could go. I gripped her leg tighter and pressed my face harder between her legs, pinning her against the desk.

"Jack—" she moaned, bucking against me as I tried to brace myself against her rocking motion.

I had to pause, as she was getting loud.

"I know . . ." she told me.

"Bite your lip," I said.

She did and I resumed. I listened to her muffled pleas and followed the pulse of her signals. Her taste was exquisite. I let myself be swallowed in the scent of her arousal, the scratch of her fingernails running through my hair, the sensuous moans of pleasure that would sometimes escape her mouth in uncontrolled gasps. It all blended and pushed my desire into overdrive. I added my fingers, sliding inside as the tip of my tongue darted and dragged across her swelling nib causing her legs to tremble. I slid my hands up her stomach and squeezed her breasts, gently pinching at the fleshy protrusion of her hard nipples that pressed outward from her bra.

"Okay!" she finally muttered, pushing my head back from between her legs.

I leaned in and kissed the inside of her thigh, wiping her juices from my lips. "I wasn't finished . . . I don't think you were either?"

She swallowed and gulped for air, shaking her head and trying to answer. "Let's lay down . . . before I fall down."

I started to stand up when she put her hand on my shoulder. "My shoes . . . I feel like some porn chick. Can you help me?"

I laughed and we worked together, first removing the shoes and then her stockings. Truthfully, I've never really been into stockings the way some men are, so I was happy to oblige. I much preferred her completely natural. Once finished, I stood up and faced her. Her eyes were glazed with arousal, her fingertips trembling as she reached behind and removed her bra, tossing it to the side.

"This is fucking insane," she said, wrapping her arms around my neck and kissing me even harder than before.

I dipped slightly, cupped her ass in my hands, and lifted her tiny frame in the air. Her legs locked around me and our tongues came together in a hot exchange. My erection throbbed, sandwiched between our naked bodies as I carried her to the sofa. I started to lay her on her back and she broke from our kiss.

"No, I want to be on top."

Her request didn't surprise me, as the power in her personality was becoming all too evident. I smiled and she released her legs, her tiny feet finally touching the floor as her breasts slid against my chest. I stretched out into position and she straddled herself across me, our weight becoming one.

I began to move, arching off the cushion, lifting her as my erection rode back and forth between her legs. She was hot against me, moaning slightly as I took hold of her ass, guiding her back and forth in sensuous friction. It felt incredible, both of us nude, vulnerable, her breasts pressing against my chest. The wet, swollen folds of her pussy moved back and forth over my cock, her slick warmth soaking my length.

"I'm not on any birth control," she whispered.

I didn't know how to respond. I only knew I didn't want this to end.

"If we're going to stop," I finally said. "We should do it now."

My heart began to beat faster as she lifted slightly and reached between her legs, gripping my cock and bringing me into position.

"We just to be really careful," she whispered, her eyes scanning mine. "Will you be careful?"

I placed my hands on her waist to help support her weight as I felt her aligning my cock at her entrance. "I promise."

She pressed her palms on my chest and raised herself up, hovering slightly while staring down at me. I lifted at the same time as she leaned back. She was tight, but accepting. Her pussy was hot and wet, gripping my shaft like her fist had earlier. She whimpered and started to move. I willed myself to relax.

"You okay?" I whispered, my hips moving with her now.

Staring down at me, her lower lip fastened securely between her teeth, she nodded a yes. "It's been a while, in case you can't tell."

"It's been a while for me too."

I lowered her slightly, entering further and she let go of an involuntary moan. I caressed her cheek and pulled her mouth towards mine. Her long black hair fell to either side of my face and we kissed while we fucked, working together to stifle one another's moans. She began moving faster against me. While still snug, her body was consuming all of my cock. She sat up again and I took handfuls of her ass, fucking and thrusting as hard as I could, bouncing against the leather sofa cushion while bottoming my erection as deep as I could go. She rode me hard, her moans now flooding the room and I could sense she was close. That was good, as my own orgasm was all too near.

She was grinding against me, her fingernails digging into my skin. "I'm coming, Jack . . . I'm coming—"

I cupped my hands over her breasts and squeezed, rubbing the pads of my thumbs over her hard nipples as he body shook, my hard cock riding in and out. Eventually, her weight collapsed on top of me as I continued moving inside her.

"You didn't come, did you?" she managed.

"No . . . but I'm close. You better let me pull out."

I felt her take a deep breath for strength as she pulled herself off me, my erection sliding free as she scooted back and into a kneeling position between my legs. She pushed her hair back over her shoulder and blinked like she was trying to find her bearings. Her eyes were vacant as if she had been overcome with exhaustion. She picked up my still swollen erection with one hand, then leaned forward and placed her other hand over my mouth.

"Come for me, Jack . . . come for me, baby."

She pumped me hard with her fist as the hand over my mouth relaxed enough to allow me to breathe. It was an insanely erotic moment. I imagined my co-workers meandering through the halls, going about their business, with no idea that Mei Lin and I were nearly finished with some of the best sex I could fathom. It wouldn't be long.

She smiled, sensing how close I was, holding my cock against her stomach as she pumped. "C'mon, baby . . . c'mon . . ."

I came in an intense, but rather tidy orgasm, the result of it being my third in less than twenty-four hours. Once finished, she reached for the tissues, cleaned our bodies, and then snuggled against me, her head buried into my chest and her naked thigh draped across my own.

"What time is it?" she finally asked.

I opened my eyes long enough to look at my watch. "Almost ten."

"Your first appointment is in a half hour."

-=-=

If I thought my morning flew by in a blur, my afternoon was a fog. I had back-to-back meetings, few details of which I remember. My mind kept replaying the morning with Mei Lin. At one point a fellow executive asked me what was so funny, referring to the silly grin I wore. I told him he needed to be there to appreciate the humor.

Mei Lin and I talked it over and agreed that her continuing as my secretary wasn't a good idea. There would be way too much temptation for any work to get accomplished. I submitted a request to the temp pool to have somebody different assigned until Diane returned, using Mei Lin's phony language barrier as the reason for the needed change. They granted by request, but first called her in to ensure there wasn't more to the story than a mismatch of skills. While non-specific, I think their real question was whether I had crossed any professional boundaries or made any inappropriate advances. Is fucking her on my leather office couch inappropriate? How about a shoulder rub with a ‘happy ending'? We got more than a few laughs over that one.

She did her usual excellent job of convincing all involved that everything was fine and that she took this foreign assignment to realize different experiences, so all was good. Most interesting, I decided, was that HR was seemingly unaware of her real mission in the states, or her real identify. Whatever she was involved in was well classified.

The bigger problem was keeping our relationship a secret. We usually met at her apartment or my place, sometimes during the workday, but more often late evenings or weekends, when the likelihood of being seen was minimized. While the sex continued, getting even better as we became more familiar with one another's likes and dislikes, it was just hanging out with her that I enjoyed the most. When we were alone and outside the office, she was free to relax and be herself and I discovered a fascinating, multi-faceted woman that I never would have imagined, with diverse interests and worldly experiences.

It was difficult sometimes living a life of secrecy, unable to enjoy the simplest of activities couples enjoy, like taking in a movie, a concert, or a stroll through some of the downtown art galleries on a lazy Sunday afternoon. The problem was, working together or not, we couldn't be seen as a couple, particularly considering her agenda, which sooner or later would be revealed. When that happened, I couldn't be associated with her, even socially. Oddly, we settled into our routines pretty quickly and I had almost forgotten about her ulterior motives. She seldom mentioned the investigation and I didn't ask.

Then, one Tuesday, I contracted a mild case of food poisoning from some grubby Chinese takeout I'd eaten while working through lunch. I spent the next day over a toilet and the day after that in bed. I turned my phone off to get some rest and missed the handful of urgent messages Mei Lin left trying to reach me.

The following Thursday, I was feeling back to normal. I squeezed in a morning jog through the neighborhood before work, glad to be alive. I grabbed the Wallstreet Journal off the driveway and was just inside the front door when I saw the headline in the day's top stories:

Wellington Executive Arrested on Charges of Financial Fraud

I quickly flipped to the related story and continued reading.

NEW YORK (Dow Jones)—In a press release Friday, the Department of Justice reported that Preston Sinclair, an attorney and executive for the Wellington Consulting Group (WCG), was arrested Tuesday under charges that he masterminded a scheme to defraud the firm.

Sinclair, an attorney and certified public accountant, defrauded Wellington by diverting checks and misrepresenting earnings as part of an elaborate cover-up to boost earnings for his division and to realize personal financial gain by diverting funds through a series of overseas bank accounts. The arrest was the culmination of a six month sting operation conducted by Wellington in conjunction with federal authorities. Authorities say Sinclair's scheme, in which he acted alone, was responsible for defrauding the systems consulting company "of millions of dollars".

Detailed charges include one count of conspiracy to commit mail fraud and wire fraud. If convicted, Sinclair could face a maximum sentence of 60 years imprisonment.

The stock closed on Wednesday at 60 1/8, up 1/4.

I felt like I'd been blindsided by a hit and run driver. This was unbelievable. I knew Preston colored outside the lines, but fraud? I had no idea. Not only that, I was a little disillusioned that Mei Lin hadn't had the courtesy to tell me this was coming, particularly considering that Preston and I were friends. Maybe she thought I would tell him about the investigation, or that he was the prime suspect? I hoped she would give me more credit than that. Whatever the reason, I was again feeling like a pawn and I didn't much like it.

I was on my way to the shower when there was a knock at the door. I opened it to find Mei Lin.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

I held up the paper that was still in my hand. "Well . . . I'm a little shocked, not to mention disappointed that I had read this in the paper instead of hearing it from you, but other than that, I'm fine."

"I've been trying to call you for two days," she said. "You wouldn't answer your phone. I was worried about you."

Her explanation provided some relief. "I had the phone unplugged so I could get some rest. Food poisoning from that crappy Chinese takeout on fifth and Teller Street."

"Yuck . . . that place is gross! There's much better Chinese food in town. You should have asked me."

"New secretary. I asked her to go out and get me something to eat while I worked through lunch. Should have been more specific."

"So you saw the story?"

"Yeah . . . I knew Preston was slick with his numbers, but fraud? I can't believe it. Explains that jet set lifestyle he leads, now doesn't it?"

"It was bad, Jack. We're still not sure exactly how much he got away with. I wanted to tell you sooner, but I had to wait."

"I understand." She stepped inside and I closed the door. "You want some coffee or something?"

"No . . . I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I'm not going into the office any more after Friday. Story will be I have a sick relative and—"

"You're returning to Japan," I said, finishing her sentence.

"On Sunday."

I felt a cold chill pass through my body. "Wow . . . you know, I never thought about you leaving once this investigation was finished? We talked so little about this stuff, I almost forgot about it."

"I have to," she continued. "I could buy some time until my visa expires, but that would generate a lot of questions."

"Will you come back for the trial?"

"Doubtful . . . I won't be testifying. Most of the work I conducted was behind the scenes and the plan is to keep my identity a secret."

"Great," I said.

"It's not like I want to go, Jack!"

"I know . . . I know."

We stared at one another, saying nothing. Eventually she came towards me, her arms circling my waist as she buried her cheek against my chest. I squeezed her tight and felt her shoulders begin to shake as she started to cry. I closed my eyes and stared at the ceiling, trying to hold back my own tears. One of us needed to be strong.

"It's going to okay, Mei Lin."

She sniffed and looked up at me, her skin flush and her eyes welling. "I don't want to leave you, Jack."

"And you think I want you to go? What if I got you a job here?

"Have you forgotten they all think I'm a secretary who can't speak English? I'd go insane if I had to keep up that whole act day in and day out."

"It was just a thought." I pulled her close to me and held her tighter. "You leave Sunday?"

She nodded, her cheek scraping my chest.

I reached down and scooped her off the floor and into my arms as I carried towards the bedroom. "Let's make the best of the time we have left."

-=-=

I tried to stay busy the following days. We stayed at Mei Lin's place until the day of her departure with me helping her tie up loose ends. I drove her to the airport not caring who saw us. Watching her leave the boarding area and disappear onto the airplane was the hardest thing I've ever had to do. I stayed composed until she was out of sight, then took a seat in the corner and wept like I haven't wept since I was a child. It felt like a piece of my soul had just been lost.

The following week was hectic, made worse by the fact that I was only mentally half there. Diane returned, which helped to bring back normal routines. She kept asking me if I was feeling okay and commented more than once that I seemed different. I assured her all was well.

It was almost the end of a day and I was staring out my office window at the setting sun. In Tokyo, Mei Lin's morning would only be starting. I felt a vacant space in my heart that I wondered if I could ever fill. My eyes went to my monitor and then to a small plaque I have in a frame at the edge of my desk. I've read that plaque a million times before, but at that moment, it was like the first time I really registered the words . . .

What would you give to get what you really want?

What would I give? More important, what did really want? I picked up the phone and dialed the number for Human Resources. After a few rings, the head of the department answered. "Human Resources, this is Nancy, how can I help you?"

"Nancy . . . Jack Handee."

"Hey, Jack . . . what's up?"

"Question for you . . ."

"Sure thing."

"That work exchange program the company is using these days for sharing positions over seas?"

"Yeah . . . I know, it didn't work out so well for your secretary."

If she only knew the half of it, I thought.

"That's not why I'm calling. Are Senior Management roles included in the program?"

"Yeah . . . why, you looking to bring somebody over?"

"Actually . . . I'm thinking about myself. I'm thinking I might like to live abroad for a bit, see more of the world."

"Well . . . let me take a look." I heard her typing and then she returned to the phone. "You're in luck. There's a lateral position with your title available in the United Kingdom."

"Hmmmm . . . that's it?"

She was quiet. "Yeah, I'm afraid so. Unless you want to take a step down, there's something in Tokyo, but I don't think you'd be interested in that."

I smiled. "Actually . . . Tokyo this time of year sounds like exactly what I'm looking for."

==~==

A final thought:

It takes me weeks of writing and revision to create a story I'm willing to sign my name to and minutes to read the result. I don't mind the trade-off because I enjoy having my stories read by as many people as possible.

If you enjoyed this story, would you consider leaving me a healthy vote? By doing so, other people are likely to read the story and, when that happens, I'm encouraged to write more, which means you'll have more stories to enjoy.

Conversely, if you didn't enjoy the story (i.e., your vote is less than a ‘9'), drop me a note and tell me why. I won't argue. I'm just interested in what would have made the difference for you. Understanding reader preferences helps me to improve my writing going forward.

All the best,

~Jack

Jack_handee@yahoo.com

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stories, so by all means write the author a note if you liked the story!
The author of this story: Jack Handee

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