Page 2 of His Christmas Gift


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“Yes, I heard you. So, having a wife and daughter costs a couple billion dollars to care for. Glad I don’t have those things.” I can’t believe the thing I’m considering demanding for the three million dollars. It’s wrong. But, what do I care.

“What do you want?”

“So, you don’t go to jail for the rest of your life you mean?” I look at him. I really look. I can see why he would take up with a young woman who flattered his ego. He’s balding, what hair he has is a greasy combination of dark and gray hair. He’s overweight and his designer suit doesn’t fit. He’s a mess.

“What did she say? You propositioned her?” He blushes beet-red and ducks his head down.

“So, you actually might go to prison on two counts?”

“No, I paid her off.” He frowns at me as if I’m the stupid one.

“You actually think she’s going to stick with only that? Not take you for more? Did you make her sign a contract? An NDA?”

He puffs his flabby chest out as if it has any meaning, “of course I did.”

My thoughts run a million miles an hour, and I stare at him as I think. He’s being a little squirmy, I wonder what else is going on, “Max, how many other women have there been?”

He stares off into a distant point behind my head. I know he’s putting this conversation off as long as he can. He’s guilty of being unfaithful not only the one time but what must be multiple times by the way he’s acting.

I run my hand over the top of my hair, “fuck Max. Fine, I don’t fucking care. There’s still a matter of three million dollars.”

“What do you want for it?” His hands tremble as he lays them on the table in front of him. He clutches them into a fist, visibly trying to stop the trembling.

I rub my chin while thoughts of Katrina’s eighteenth birthday party flood my mind. Her in a skimpy white skirt and a red tank top matching her red glasses. Little flat ballet like slippers on her feet. Those glasses are the sexiest accessory I’ve ever seen on her.

Giggling with the other girls, boys standing off to the side unless there with their girlfriends. Max and other scowling fathers kept the room pretty separated.

The big girly birthday cake with roses and butterflies. A table piled high with presents. Her flirty skirt flips up for a second and her cheeks redden and hands hurry to push the skirt back down makes my cock grow and uncomfortable in front of her father.

Her, here at work. Her red glasses and professional work attire. Long blond hair done up in buns or ponytails. Just thinking about her here at work wearing skirts to her knees, blouses buttoned up to her neck. Her slightly more than a handful breasts, nipples still visible even with the bra she wears, those tight pencil skirts or slacks that cup her fine, rounded ass. I shift in my seat, adjusting my dick, suddenly hard at the thoughts becoming x-rated. Katrina, on her knees, eyes raised to mine in submission, red-painted lips sucking my cock like her favorite flavor of sucker.

Fuck it.

“What I want is Katrina for three months.”

He’s almost comical in the way his eyes widen and his jaw drops. His mouth flaps open and closed, unable to speak words. “Wha…wha…what?”

“You heard me.” I watch him like you would a poisonous snake in defensiveness, ready to strike. A father in defense of his young, if he cared enough is a dangerous thing.

“I want your daughter.”

I thrust my arms over my head, shimmying and gyrating to the Christmas songs played by the band Griff hired. It’s Tuesday, a couple days before Thanksgiving. I’m wearing a short red Christmas outfit with fake white fur around the edges of the costume and I’m black boots with high heels. And my red glasses. Everyone tells me to either get Lasix or contacts. I can’t stand the thought of poking a finger in my eyes all the time and surgery is not possible.

One of my father’s rich friends, who’s spoiled daughter is supposed to be my friend. I don’t really trust her as a friend but she convinced me that this outfit is perfect for the Thanksgiving party. She’s wearing the same dress even more risqué than mine. Hers is a dark green to match her eyes, with a plunging neckline with the white fake fur and a skirt that hits just under her ass. I mean you can see the bottoms of her ass cheeks. I thought mine was bad enough, I don’t dare bend over. I don’t know how I let her talk me into this costume.

I’ve had a little of the spiked punch and it gets me up here dancing by myself. A body moves up behind and gyrates and rubs his hips into my ass hard enough to feel his dick. Na uh.

I start to walk away but am yanked back into his body and he continues acting like he’s fucking me from behind, his hard dick slides under my skirt. I start to panic and try to pull away from him and he has me by my arms. “Let go.”

“Sorry bitch. You want to dance like a slut you’re going to be treated like one. Let’s go into one of the offices and have a good fuck.” He growls into my ear, one hand around my throat, the other inching its way under my skirt. My vision starts to go dark around the edges as a panic attack makes my breath freeze in my throat and I try one last attempt to draw in a deep breath to scream but he’s yanked away from me.

I turn around to find Griffin with one hand clenching on the shoulder of the attacker whose leer turns to be one of terror at his boss who’s other hand is held back ready to punch him.

“Mr. Van Halen don’t. I don’t want you to get in trouble.” I grab his elbow and hold on as he tries to pull his arm forward but I hold on tight. He turns his head to glare at me, his grasp loosens enough for the jerk to pull away and scurry out of the room.

“I’ll find out who you are fucker. You’re done here. Done.” He yells a grinding shout, his hand raised in a shaking fist, body tight and throbbing, ready to attack. His anger so palpable it’s like a living, breathing creature standing beside him ready to rend and tear my assailant apart.

I can’t believe Griffin Van Halen is ready to protect the slightly attractive daughter of his partner and be so angry about it to want to strike an employee. He sounds like he’s going to destroy the young man. The guy looks vaguely familiar, not someone I would have talked to in a personal manner. I don’t know why he thought I’m some kind of tease.

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