Protection details for foreign nationals in dangerous countries is a division that should be downsized. Too much risk. The profitability of fear is continuous, the profitability of death is finite.
Everything can be reduced to a number.
The executives are more alert now. They watch as I point to different areas of the graph. My fingers no longer tremble. I can feel their eyes, but Robert’s gaze has a distinct texture. It’s velvet against my skin.
I go over the numbers of their R&D department. This is an area that needs to grow, but their marketing department needs a makeover. New hires will be needed here; layoffs will be needed there.
When it’s reduced to numbers, I can be ruthless.
Daemon has forgotten that he needs to keep his eyes to himself. I can feel his gaze, too. But it’s not like earlier. His desire doesn’t stem from what he knows about my relationships. It stems from my power. I’m a force.
Asha’s looking at me, too. The power excites her. She wants me, to touch me in the most intimate ways. She wants to be the hunter who can bring down the predator, tie me up and display me for all to see.
And these executives . . . they all want me. And their desire is not an insult. It’s a gift.
Image and branding is Taci’s area, and I step back and allow her to temporarily take the floor. But I know the attention is still on me.
What if I let them all have me? What if I made them work for my affections, made them bend to my will, agree to the implementation of all my plans? What if I rewarded them for it?
I imagine it now. Daemon stands up, crosses to me, waiting for instruction while Robert nods his approval. This isn’t betrayal. This is strength. It’s the kind of power that allows me to do anything I want anytime I want. No one dares object.
I imagine myself stripping Daemon down. I remove his jacket first, then his tie, dropping them unceremoniously on the floor while he stands quietly compliant. I slowly unbutton his shirt as he faces the room; Nin smiles as I expose his carefully sculpted, slender torso; run my fingers along the outlines of his muscles, his pecs, his abs, his narrow waist. “Take off the rest,” I say, standing back, watching as he obediently pulls off his belt, then his pants, and finally the boxer briefs. He’s slimmer than Robert, a little less bulk, and his youth gives him a fragility that can’t be shaken by his daily workouts. His erection gives away his desire. He looks to me, hope lighting up his brown eyes as he waits for his next instruction. I put my hands on his shoulders and press down until he lowers to his knees, waiting.
Again I look at Robert. He smiles as I raise my skirt to my waist, lower my panties just enough.
“Taste me,” I instruct, and immediately I feel the caress of his tongue splitting me open as my milky desire runs over his tongue.
The VP stares at Daemon, envy coloring his face. I nod at him, beckon with one hand, and he immediately complies, coming behind me, pressing himself against me; I can feel his erection as he sucks gently on my neck even as Daemon continues his ministrations. My eyes are now locked with Robert. This time it’s Asha who must attend to me. She, too, walks behind me, running her fingers through my hair, up and down my arms. She wants more but this is all I will allow her. This is my party. I make the rules.
Robert smiles; he understands. His eyes speak his requests; to please him I allow Asha to unbutton my shirt, unfasten my bra. The VP gets to his knees and strokes my thighs as Daemon’s tongue plunges inside of me. I shudder, my head falls back slightly, the pleasure is intense. But my eyes stay with Robert. Slowly he gets up, walks around the table, stealthy, confident, demanding. He stands in front of me.
“Step aside,” he says and the other players in this game fall away, none of them fully satisfied but knowing that they are not allowed to protest. He runs his hands over my hips, my stomach, my