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“Ms. Jones?”
“Yes.” She paused.
“Whatever you do, don’t enter any door but the second on your left.”
With the warning ringing in her ears, she entered the doorway. A blast of cold pushed past her. But before she could wonder if that was a bad sign, she saw doorways to the right and left of her.
Moans came from her right. She wasn’t sure if they were from pleasure or pain, and was suddenly reminded of a horror movie she’d seen as a teenager. Had she made a deal with the devil? Or was she on her way to do so?
Positioning her hand to knock on the required door, she took a deep breath. She’d simply explain that it had all been a horrible mistake.
Straightening her shoulders, she knocked with what she felt was purpose.
The door opened and she could see a beautiful woman with mahogany hair sitting in front of a large desk. “Welcome, Stacy. I’ve been expecting your call. I wasn’t sure if you would give in to the temptation or not. But, you did, just before the deadline.”
Deadline? What deadline? I heard nothing about a deadline. And besides, I’m not staying. This is a mistake, and I won’t go through with it. Especially when I don’t know what it is...
“Oh, it’s not a strict deadline. We’ve simply noticed that if a person has not contacted us within five days of receiving our card, they probably will not do so.”
Stacy’s mouth dropped open in shock. What the hell? She was positive she hadn’t spoken out loud.
“Now, do you really want to stand there and ask me for answers you can figure out yourself, or do you want to ask what’s really on your mind?” The woman’s ruby red lips tilted in a
patient smile.
“What does BSC stand for?” Her voice came out soft. She couldn’t believe she was going along with this craziness.
“Not the question I thought you’d start with. I’m impressed. Not many people can fool me.” Placing her elbows on the desk, the mysterious Ms. Pope leaned forward. “BSC stands for Best Served Cold.”
Questions littered her mind. What did that mean? Was it some obscure reference that she should have known? Shouldn’t a place called Best Served Cold be in the ice cream business? What was going on?
“One question at a time, please,” Ms. Pope lifted a hand to her temple. “You know why you’re here. Even if you haven’t quite admitted it to yourself. Yet.”
“Thomas,” she whispered, an image of her husband floating inside her mind.
“Exactly. Now, how can we at BSC help you?”
Growing up, whenever she became overly nervous, she would babble. She hadn’t lost the habit as an adult. “Help me? Help me do what? I mean, I’ve already spoken to a lawyer and she said there really isn’t a lot that can be done at the present. The first step is to get separate places to live and see where we can go from there. And um, well, just because I found panties in his pocket doesn’t mean they came from another woman. He could’ve bought them. He could be a closet crossdresser. Maybe he thought he could talk me into wearing them...”
“Slow down. You are giving me a migraine. Are you always so...busy? Take some deep breaths.” Ms. Pope stood up and walked around the desk to stand in front of her. The mysterious woman was wearing a crimson top with a rather daring cut that Stacy wouldn’t have expected to see in an office setting. The black miniskirt seemed to lengthen her legs, and the heels served to emphasize both her legs and the skirt, but not make her appear cheap or tawdry. Her eyes looked so dark they practically appeared black, and they seemed to beckon to her, to tempt her to look deeper into them.
With her first good look at the woman, Stacy decided that Ms. Pope would never be the type of woman who would bury her head in the sand and try to convince herself she was happy. She was beautiful, and it seemed to permeate her every pore.
“You’re right. I wouldn’t. And thank you for the compliment.”
Without stopping to wonder why the woman was thanking her for something she hadn’t said, her thoughts rushed forward. Ever since she’d found the black dental floss in her husband’s pocket, she’d felt about as attractive as a cow.
“Oh no, my dear. You are much, much more beautiful than that. You only need someone to help point you in the right direction. We can give you that help, if that is what you wish. But tell me the truth. Look deep into your heart, and tell me what it is that you truly desire.”
An image of the woman that Stacy had seen hugging her husband the previous month appeared in her mind. The hug itself had not been a telltale event. It was the length of the embrace and the miniscule tilting of hips that gave the couple away. Well, that, and the erection bulging in her husband’s pants when he’d pulled away from the secretary.
She thought about all the years she’d worked her ass off to make him happy. To make him as happy as she possibly could. She’d worked hard doing a job she hated in retail for years because she was able to get him a discount on his hunting supplies and other sports items. She kept their house clean and made sure supper was always ready for him, no matter how horrible her day had been. She’d given up everything that made her an individual to make him happy. If he hadn’t approved of something, she’d given it up without a second thought because she always considered him to be more important. Worth a few minor sacrifices.
And now he was going to leave her—to divorce her—because some whore twitched her ass at him! She knew exactly what she wanted. She wanted revenge.
“And that is what brought you here to us,” Ms. Pope’s voice whispered into her ear. The sound was sultry, and a shiver coursed down her spine. “We can give you all of that and more. Just imagine all the different ways you can pay him back.”
Her eyes closed as she wondered how she would like to hurt him. She licked her lips as she imagined him gagging because he had a dick being shoved too far down his throat, just the way he’d done to her on too many occasions. How would he like it if someone considered foreplay pinching his nipples twice, then ramming their cock into his body? Or perhaps he should simply have a chain and collar secured around his neck and fastened to her desk at home. Anytime she felt the need for inspiration, she could yank him over to her and keep him between her legs until she was satisfied for once.
