High Stakes, Hard Sell Ch. 01

Mike rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on, Janey!"

"I know how it sounds. Believe me, I know. It's laughable, right? There's no such thing as curses. It must be all in my head. I'm imagining things."

"I don't have time for this bullshit," he growled and started to rise from his chair.

Jane pressed on, eager to finish her story before he dismissed it - and her - completely. "I didn't believe it either. For eight months I ignored it, and figured the weird amount of misfortune I was experiencing was just coincidence. A run of bad luck. At first it was just minor nuisances. I lost my car keys. My car battery died overnight. Viruses on my laptop. Stuff getting lost in the mail. Things that wouldn't raise any suspicion normally, except they were happening a lot. Enough that I noticed it."

"That doesn't mean..."

"But recently it started getting serious. After ten years with a perfect driving record, I've had five car accidents in the last two months. The sprinkler system in my apartment - just MY apartment - went off and ruined most of my stuff. My identity was stolen. I got passed over for a promotion I deserved. My purse was snatched in broad daylight in the street..." She felt unexpected despair and helplessness rising within her and she tried not to cry. She didn't want it to look like a cheap ploy, especially after last week. Above all, she needed to remain clear-headed and focused. "I found...a lump...in my breast. The biopsy said it was benign, but I know the next one won't be..." Her voice did break then and she fell silent as she tried to compose herself.

Mike didn't speak, he just looked at her dubiously. Finally she regained enough control to speak again.

"The curse is real. This stuff is going to keep happening, and in a little under five weeks it will kill me. I need help."

The silence went on longer this time, with Mike looking at her like he was trying to unravel whatever stunt she was trying to pull. She couldn't blame him for his doubts, she'd brought them upon herself.

"So...even if we pretend that everything you said is true, how can I help? I don't get it," he said at last.

"I need to find a way to regain your trust. That was what the curse said: regain the trust most cruelly betrayed. I'm sure that means you."

"Why me?"

"Whenever I think about who I most cruelly betrayed..." she left the thought hanging. Now would be the worst possible time to open old wounds. Plenty of time for that after the deal was done.

"Nice." His expression darkened.

"I'm sorry, Mike, really. But this is where I am right now. Please say you'll help me?"

"So I just have to say I trust you, and we're all good?"

"It's not enough to say it. You have to actually trust me."

"That's asking too much," he said, his tone slightly bitter. "I don't even like you." Were the wounds she'd inflicted so deep that they pained him even after all this time? A bad sign. Still, she hadn't heard 'no' yet, so she forged ahead.

"I'm willing to do what it takes to earn your trust again. Anything," she said, pouring every ounce of conviction into her voice.

"Like what? You obviously came here with a plan," he said. Was she so transparent or did he know her that well?

"Counseling. Couples therapy," she said, watching his face intently to gauge his reaction.

He chuckled mirthlessly. "First, we're not a couple. Second, I don't have time. Schedule's packed."

"We don't have to be a true couple. We just need someone who can help us work through our issues."

"I don't have any issues."

"WE have issues."

"There is no 'we'," he said, and the edge in his voice was obvious despite his quiet tone.

"In terms of the timing," she said, deliberately moving on to his second objection. "I was thinking maybe evenings, or weekends."

He shook his head. "I get up at six. Get breakfast, get Nessa dressed, make the lunches, get her to kindergarten. I'm at the gym before nine. I've got a fight in a month, and that means long training days. Then I grab a shower, pick up Nessa, get dinner, spend an hour with my kid, get her in the bath and into bed. If I'm lucky she's asleep by eight, then it's dishes, housework, yoga. I'm asleep by ten, and we do it all again the next day. There's no time."

"Weekends, then."

"Groceries, laundry, and...you know what? I don't need to justify anything to you. You made your choice. I moved on. I'm not sure what your game is now, but I'm not playing. Goodbye." He pushed the chair back and stood up, an obvious invitation for her to do the same.

She remained seated.

"For fuck's sake, Mike. I'm going to die!" she whispered urgently and immediately wished she hadn't. She didn't need emotion now, she needed to stay on message. More so because her bargaining position was weak.

"Right...because an old lady cast a spell on you. How stupid do you think I am, anyway?"

She took a deep breath and forced herself to focus on his words. He didn't have time, and was obviously still smarting from their breakup five years ago. Those were his pain points. She needed to offer a solution that would address them. Salespeople were nothing if not problem-solvers.

"I'll make breakfast and fix the lunches. I'll get Nessa to school. I'll drive you to the gym, I'll pick you up, pick her up, I'll get dinner, dishes, housework, groceries and laundry. I'll do anything you say," she started.

"I don't need..."

"You get your way 24/7, and in return, you give me three hours a week and we do the counseling," she finished.

She watched his expression morph from anger to annoyance to disbelief. He'd heard her words. He was processing them. She knew an opening when she saw one.

"You give me three hours a WEEK and in return I'll probably save you...what...two, maybe three hours per DAY? At least that much. You get more time with Nessa. More time to train."

She could see his expression turn thoughtful as he was mentally did the math. The rational part of him was engaged. Time get him emotionally invested too.

"And you'll be completely in charge. You make the rules. I'll do what you say, no matter how menial," she said. "You can get a little payback for how I...for what happened." She stopped herself there. Didn't want to over-sell the idea.

She remained silent as her words sunk in. She hoped he'd find it an intoxicating plan...more time AND power. He'd see the opportunity to do less work and wreak a little vengeance against the one who had wronged him.

"I'll think it over," he said after two minutes of silence.

Fuck. She hated hearing those words. Delays would boost the rational side of her pitch but weaken the emotional side. Delays were the salesperson's enemy.

On the other hand, she'd moved him off his adamant 'no' and thrown the whole matter into the murky, gray realm of negotiation where her greater experience clearly gave her an edge.

"Thank you. I mean it, Mike, thank you so much. This...really means a lot," she said in a voice suffused with relief and gratitude, much of it genuine. She stood and walked to the door without being prompted, but turned in the doorway and added. "When can I get your decision? I'm not rushing you but...I'm running out of time fast."

"Give me your number. I'll text you," he said. He seemed pensive. She chose to believe that was a good sign.

She gave him her card along with a quick, hopeful smile, then made for the lobby to call a cab to take her home.

It was late when she'd finished her shower and slid into bed. Unexpectedly, her phone buzzed with a text from Mike. He was up past his bed time. Another good sign?

'Come over Friday 830pm'.

She grinned. It wasn't a 'no'. She started to plan for Friday.

**

Dressing for the follow-up meeting was a conundrum. She hadn't pitched sex, so going full 'thighs-and-cleavage' wouldn't jibe with her message from Monday night. Also, there could be a five-year-old walking around so some modesty might be called for. On the other hand, she didn't want to take the sex option off the table entirely in case she needed it. She wanted every weapon in her arsenal to be ready. This was life-or-death, after all.

In the end she settled on a blue, knee-length skirt, conservative, white blouse and low-heel boots. Available and accessible but not obvious. By simply changing her posture she could make it prim or wanton, whatever the situation demanded. She liked an outfit that was adaptable.

Wednesday at eight-thirty she was seated on a creaky chair opposite Mike at his kitchen table. He wore plain gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt - it seemed to be his typical home attire. Nessa was again asleep in the only bedroom.

"How much of what you said on Monday was bullshit?" he asked in a quiet voice.

"Nothing. All of it was true."

"Cursed by an old lady?"

"All true."

He regarded her shrewdly and she returned his gaze. It wasn't hard to look into his green eyes, especially when there was nothing she needed to conceal from him.

"I'm not going to a counselor..."

"Mike, I need..."

"But," he continued, "If you want to go to a counselor and get some ideas to try, I'll give you three hours a week and we can do those ideas here in my apartment. I'll give it an honest try. I'll do my best."

"Thank you," she said. It wasn't exactly what she wanted, but it was enough of a concession to get things started.

"Just to be clear, I don't believe a single fucking word of your story."

"I can't blame you. I wouldn't either, in your place."

He shrugged. "But if you're offering to do my housework I won't refuse."

"I'm offering to do anything you say," she said, careful to leave the sex option on the table. She needed to be more to him than a mere housemaid. She needed his complete trust, and that meant getting in close.

"So you get three hours of my time each week, and in return I get..."

"Anything," she finished. "You say it, I'll do it."

She half expected him to gloat, or to rub his hands together gleefully. Instead he just regarded her quietly with the faintest beginning of a smile on his lips. A few moments passed and she didn't know what to make of the silence, so she remained quiet and waited for him to tip his hand. How did he want to play this?

"There are a few rules," he said at last.

"Okay." She was pleased - he'd obviously put some planning into this. That meant he was committed to the process, at least to some degree. A very good sign.

"First, Nessa is out of this. She's not a part of the counseling and she's not involved in anything we do."

"Agreed. How do you want me to behave around her?"

"I'm going to tell her that you're a helper. That I'm paying you to help us. All you need to do is act like hired help. Think you can do that?"

"Absolutely," Jane said. She would play any role needed if it meant winning back his trust and saving her own life.

"Second, I expect complete honesty. I mean one-hundred percent. I don't have the time or patience for your sales-y bullshit. I catch you in a lie - even a tiny one - we're done," he said.

She considered. "Didn't you just tell me to lie to Nessa about being a helper?"

"And didn't I just say Nessa is out of this?" he countered. "I meant honesty between you and me."

"Okay, complete honesty between you and me. Does that go both ways?" she asked. She had to proceed carefully; too much argument and he might bail, but she didn't want to get pinned down by too many restrictions either. Or was it just her ego, refusing to cave in on a negotiation?

It was Mike's turn to hesitate, and she had to suppress a smile. He'd either have to agree to two-way honesty or admit that he planned on lying to her, which would make him look bad. Checkmate.

Finally he nodded and his faint smile lingered. "Complete honesty, and that goes both ways."

"Then I agree."

"Good. I'll need you here Monday, Wednesday and Friday from seven-thirty in the morning till nine at night. I'll tell you what needs doing, you do it. We'll just keep it simple."

"Just three days a week? You realize I'm offering 24/7 service here?" she asked. Why would he take less than what he could get? She was concerned that three days a week wouldn't be enough time to do what needed to be done. They had a lot of ground to cover together, after all.

"Just three. The rest of the time you can do whatever the hell you want."

She paused, evaluating whether to push for more or to concede. She decided to relent - better to get the deal done now and up-sell later than to risk bogging down in negotiations.

"Okay, three days a week."

"How's that going to work with your job?"

"I went on leave a few weeks back, to focus on this curse. I'm all yours." Her boss hadn't been thrilled with her decision, but had agreed to the time off after she'd assured him it wasn't to pursue another offer.

He nodded again. "How long is this...deal...going to last?"

She held his eyes with her own. "Until I've regained your trust. Or until my time is up." She was pleased by how steady her voice sounded when she said it. Practice.

"Fine."

"When do we do the counseling stuff?" she asked. Better to iron out all the details up front.

"After Nessa goes to bed. One hour each day you're here."

Jane considered the proposal. "If Nessa wakes up and interrupts us, the hour doesn't count and I get another one the same week. That's only fair, right?"

"Yeah, that's fair - if it wasn't you who woke her."

"Agreed," Jane said. "Anything else?"

"That's it, I guess," he said. "This still seems stupid"

"I know how it sounds. But I'm serious and I hope you are too," she said. She stood and extended her hand. Their contract wasn't legally binding, but it was still a business deal and a handshake to seal it felt comfortable.

"I'll keep my side of the deal," he said, rising and shaking her hand firmly. His hand was warm and calloused. "When do we start?"

"We just did," Jane said, smiling in relief. She'd closed another deal; the most important one of her life.

"And I suppose you want the first counseling session tonight? Knowing you, you've probably got something already prepared," Mike said.

His words surprised her. She DID have something already prepared. Perhaps she wasn't as far ahead of him as she'd assumed. A good lesson.

"Good guess," she said with a wry smile.

"You were always a schemer," he replied in a flat tone - neither an insult nor a compliment.

"Thanks...I think."

"So? What do you want me to do?"

"Something easy. We look into each others' eyes for four minutes. No talking, no moving. Just four minutes of eye contact."

He gave a puzzled frown. "That's it?"

"For tonight, yes."

"This is a counseling thing?"

"Yes. Got it off the internet. Like I said before, I don't have time to waste."

He shrugged, moved the chairs to the centre of the room and arranged them so they were facing one another, then sat down. She sat opposite and quickly set her cell phone timer for four minutes, then locked her eyes on his.

She expected an aggressive, mixed-martial-arts caliber stare-down from him, but his expression was neutral and relaxed. His eyes were a pure, deep, gorgeous green. She enjoyed looking at them and found that even after five years away, she enjoyed them looking at her. They were somehow calming, and given her history with Mike that surprised her - by rights she ought to feel nervous, even threatened. Instead, she felt the anxiety and fear of the last week begin to dissipate, replaced by a subtle but pleasant warmth and comfort.

She felt a smile creep up on her and she didn't try too hard to fight it. It had been a while since her last genuine smile, surely she was entitled? It triggered a response from him, and although he seemed to try harder to resist he eventually allowed a grudging smile.

The alarm went off. Four minutes already!

"Thanks. That was perfect," she said, rising and moving her chair back to the table. The website she'd taken the idea from had been right on the money - looking into each others' eyes had been a great ice-breaker.

He just grunted, replaced his chair and followed her to the front door.

"One more thing before you get your coat and boots on," he said.

She turned to face him. He held out his right hand, palm up, and looked into her eyes.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Give me your bra and panties," he said evenly. In his eyes she saw a challenge. Predictable - he was testing the limits of his new powers, or perhaps testing to see if there were limits. How far would he push her? How much ground would she be willing to give to save her own life?

"I doubt they'll fit you," she quipped, trying to diffuse. His expression didn't change.

"I believe the deal was...I say it, you do it?"

She returned his gaze for a few moments, then dropped hers. He was right, of course. Hadn't she dressed for this very possibility? Still, it felt...unnerving? Exhilarating? Intimidating? Being at Mike's mercy was a new dynamic for someone accustomed to being the aggressor.

Her face burned as she slowly hiked her skirt to mid-thigh then reached under and hooked her thumbs under the waistband of her panties. She drew them down to her knees, let them fall to her ankles, then stepped out of them one foot at a time before crouching and scooping them off the floor. Being naked under her skirt made her feel uninhibited and - unexpectedly - erotic.

She met his eyes briefly as she dropped the white, Lycra thong into his hand then looked away again, shooting a quick glance in the direction of Nessa's bedroom. The door to the apartment was nestled in a small alcove and not directly visible from the bedroom, but she needed a pause. Anything to recover her composure a little.

"What if...I mean, Nessa..." she mumbled.

"Asleep," he said in a low voice.

"But, she might..."

"Bra," he said quietly. A command, not a question.

She reached up and fumbled with the top button of her blouse. Her hands were shaky - how had he done this to her? She dared a glance up into his green eyes and found them locked onto hers. She loved the colour of those eyes but feared the way they melted away all resistance in her. She needed to remain clear-headed and alert, not foggy with lust.

The first button gave way, then the second and third. She hoped his gaze would drop into her cleavage to give her a second to regroup, but he continued to hold her eyes with an intense, almost predatory stare, breaking her, scattering her thoughts. The five years they'd spent apart seemed to vanish; the heat he evoked in her was so familiar and it surprised her how much she'd missed it.

Then her blouse was unbuttoned and it hung open, exposing her from neck to navel, presenting her breasts to him in a lacy, white bra.

His eyes never left hers.

Her breathing was quick. She wanted him, wanted his mouth and hands on her. Let him enjoy her now, and she'd figure the rest out later. She shrugged the blouse off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor, then reached behind her and unhooked her bra. A moment later she pressed the still-warm bra into his waiting hand and stood before him topless and eager. She was flushed and so ready for him...

"This is the last time you wear panties in my house," he said, leaning in to speak in a voice that was almost a whisper. "Is this clear?"

"Yes," she breathed, unable to form any other thoughts.

"I'll be checking." He stepped back and gave her a slow, deliberate look from top to bottom. She stood still and allowed him to take his fill of her. She wanted to drop to her knees and yank down his track pants, take his cock in her hands. She remembered the feel of it, one memory among many that came flooding back. How had she left this behind?

Instead she stood motionless as his eyes roamed over her. She reveled in the feel of his eyes on her. Would it be this way every night?