Sentenced to Love

Hubby embezzled; wife has to repay.

*

"You're sure about this?" Greg Urban asked his company's chief accountant, examining the papers in his hand. The older man nodded. "What the fuck was he thinking? Any trace of where the money went?"

"Looks like parties and women--entertainment type of expenses. We checked the signatures on the receipts and requests for service. The client signatures are forgeries, and the companies deny requesting service trips for most of the dates."

"Did you look at his local financials?"

"Yeah. He's refinanced his house - - a brownstone in Brooklyn Heights- -to pay for his kids' educations. He has a daughter, a junior at Binghamton, and a son, will be a junior when he returns to Stony Brook in the fall. He's on a study tour of German wineries this semester. That's the major load. Three or four credit cards, nearly maxed out. He and the wife both drive moderately expensive Japanese cars, leased. No major vices, locally. He seems to keep his tomcatting for when he's away from home.'

"What do you know about the wife? She benefit from Harry's dipping?"

"Not as far as we can see. She's in her late thirties, a looker, not a trophy wife, even if she does look like one. She's ten or fifteen years younger than her husband, married him right out of high school. Went to business school after the son was born. Works temp jobs a couple of days each week for pocket money for her and the kids. Volunteers at a senior center when she doesn't work. Not much else. No evidence of any involvement with boyfriends. Has a couple of friends, women, she has dinner with when the husband is on the road. That's about it.

"She's nice people, Greg. When Sarah's mother died a couple of years ago, she had us over for dinner a couple of times when Harry was traveling. They were pleasant evenings during a difficult time. I'd really hate to see her hurt by this."

"I'll see what I can do. See what else you can find out about her, preferably without her knowing. And ground that son of a bitch. Twenty grand is enough to lose."

********** ********** ********** ********** ********

"There it is, boss. What I told you earlier, I got in conversation with her the times Sarah and I were over for dinner. I had a P.I. from Chicago go down to the town where she and Harry were married. Apparently her mother worked for a Dr. And Mrs. Jenkins, Harry's parents. Angela Carmody, the mother, and Aymee lived in, with the doc paying the mom under the table, so to speak. Angela died just before Aymee graduated high school. A freaky accident and when she was in the hospital, she developed an infection by some penicillin resistant bacteria.

"Harry, apparently, met her on one of his infrequent visits home and was smitten. From what the P.I. could learn, he was her first and only boyfriend. They were married less than a month after her mother's funeral."

Greg looked down at the single page report in his hand. Could it be? How many women would spell the name that way?

"Call her, have her come in. Don't say anything about a problem. Tell her it's an effort to get to know the employees and their families better."

"I'm not sure I can do that, Greg. I told you, I don't want to see her hurt by this."

"That's okay, Don. I'll have Nancy call her and invite her to come in. And, I'll do my best to keep the hurt as small as I can."

********** ***********

As Aymee Jenkins examined the documents her husband's employer had given her, she felt sick to her stomach. She recognized his signature on many of the receipts, and more importantly, she recognized his handwriting forging the signatures on service requests. She quickly totaled the fraudulent sums and realized there was no way they could repay the money. "Does Harry know you know?"

"Not that we're aware." His tone was soft, gentle. It helped ease her anxiety and pain.

"I had no idea. I don't know why...What are you going to do? Why did you ask me to come in?"

"I don't know yet what we're going to do. Other than keeping him off the road, we haven't made any decisions yet. I guess partly I wanted to see what you might suggest." He got up from his desk and moved to the sideboard where a fresh pot of coffee waited. "Would you like some coffee?"

"Hmmm, uh, oh, yes, thank you." Her mind was distracted, confused. "What could I possibly suggest? We don't have the means to repay that kind of money, even if there were no penalties or interest. We don't have any assets worth anything close to that amount. The only thing we have worth anything is the condominium, and it's mortgaged to the hilt" She rose and moved to stand next to him, taking her coffee. He led her to the conference area in his office, a grouping of furniture in a corner near the sideboard. They sat down on a small sofa, half turned toward each other, knees nearly touching.

"Mrs. Jenkins," he started. "May I call you Aymee?" She nodded. "I had a sister with that name. I always thought of it as belonging to bright and cheerful people." He took a deep breath, then proceeded.

"For a few minutes I'm afraid I have to be brutally frank. I know there is no way you and Harry can afford to repay the money he stole. But if I report the theft, he'll go to jail, for a fairly long time. You, and your children, would suffer a huge financial loss. You'd lose your house, the cars, your children would have to drop out of school, I know you are working on a degree. You'd have to give that up for the immediate future." She nodded, indicating she understood. She had, in fact, played that same scenario as she had fixed her coffee. She sat, looking down at the floor. "I would rather not see that happen."

He reached over and lifted her chin so he could look into her eyes. As he spoke, his hand slipped down to her shoulder. "What are you willing to do for your children, for you, to avoid that? I won't say for Harry. He doesn't, shouldn't merit your consideration."

"What would I do? What can I do? I'd do anything I can, short of murder." She gave a small smile. "Although I am considering that."

"I don't blame you," he said, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Tell me the limits of anything."

"I don't know. I'm a good typist. I have some computer skills, but from what Harry has told me about his job, not ones you can use. But if there is anything I could do...."

Greg let his hand slip down so it covered her breast. "Anything?"

In less than an heartbeat, she pushed his hand away, glaring at him. For a long moment she stared at him wordlessly. Then she stood up and walked to the window, where she stood gazing out, not seeing anything as she considered his unspoken proposal.

Still facing the window she said, "You are a real bastard, aren't you?"

"Not legally, but, from your point of view, yes, probably. I didn't plan this. It just occurred to me as I was contemplating what would happen if your husband went to jail." She turned from the window and looked him up and down. She saw a man, a few years older than herself, in his mid-forties, fairly good looking, fit, about six feet tall. Like herself, chestnut colored hair and blue eyes. She returned to the sofa and sat.

"What would I have to do?"

"Become my mistress. I would expect you to be monogamous--me and only me as long as the relationship lasts. That would also exclude Harry. Within our relationship, I would expect honesty, openness, a willingness to share, to experiment. I would not expect love, but respect, both ways, and friendliness, if not friendship. I don't practice bondage, or S and M, so there would be none of that, and, as I said, I don't share, at least not without consent."

She blew out her breath, "Phewwww. It sounds like a prenup without any of the money terms. It sounds reasonable. How long would I have to .....work?"

"Don't know. Until I felt Harry was punished enough."

"If that is going to be your criterion," she laughed, " it won't work. Our marriage has been over for years. When Robbie, our son, started college, Harry agreed to see him through his bachelors degree. Then, he said, he wanted me to file for divorce.

"But, if the offer is still open, I'll accept your terms."

Greg sat, stunned. He had made the proposal, half in jest, expecting to get slapped. He thought a minute. "Your job starts now. I'm going to ask a hell of a lot from you for the next hour." He moved to his desk and picked up his phone. "Nancy, call Harry Jenkins' boss and have Harry here in twenty minutes. Thank you."

He turned to Aymee. "For the next hour, you need to do everything I ask of you without objection, including submitting to me in front of your husband, allowing me to use you whatever way I wish. Letting me show Harry just how much I intend to degrade you. I will use language I hope you never hear me use again, even in anger. If you feel degraded and abused, let Harry know it is his fault. Make him feel guilty."

"You intend to fuck me in front of Harry, trying to make him feel bad? As your employee slash mistress, I'll do whatever you say. As your..."friend" you said, I don't think it will work.

"Harry stopped caring for me shortly after Rob was born. He hasn't touched me in five or six years. He got angry when I stopped letting him perform oral sex on me. Every time he tried, I developed a vaginal infection. The last time, after Robbie was born, it was so bad, it scarred my tubes so I couldn't get pregnant anymore."

She looked up at him from her seat, "but I'm willing to do what you ask. Since Harry doesn't want me anymore, I may as well find someone who does, what ever the reason." She stood up. "Do you want me naked when he gets here?"

Greg shook his head no as he reached to unbutton the blouse she wore under her blazer. "No, I think when a woman is being forced, it makes her look more vulnerable if she is partially dressed. "

He reached inside her blouse to unhook her bra in the back and drew his hands out, caressing her skin under the bra straps, until he reached her breasts. He gently lifted them, cupping and caressing them at the same time. "Very nice," he said. "I can hardly wait to see and feel them properly." He was interrupted by his intercom.

"Harry Jenkins is here Mr. Urban. Should I send him in?"

"Give me a bit, Nancy. I'll let you know when."

"Very well, sir. Mr. Jenkins, please have..." and the intercom shut off.

"I'm going to apologize now for my behavior in the next hour," Greg said, and bent to kiss Aymee.

"Sorry," she said, with a smile in her voice and in her eyes, "but I don't kiss on the first date."

He looked at her quizzically, then laughed. "Okay, until you're ready. Now over by the desk." He positioned her at the end of the desk, in front of the window. When she looked at the window, and then at him with a worried frown, he pulled her blouse tails from her skirt and threw them over her head. He pushed her skirt up to her hips and pulled her panties down to mid thigh level.

As he punched on the intercom, he slid his hand down over her ass until he reached her pussy lips. Slowly, he began to rub them, pressing his middle finger between them, searching for her pleasure center, eliciting a small moan. "Okay, Nancy, send Harry in."

When Harry entered the office, he saw his boss standing behind a vaguely familiar woman, her skirt hiked up around her waist, her blouse thrown over her head, masking her face. "Uhh, excuse me, sir. You asked to see me?"

"Ahh, yes, Harry. Come on in, and close and lock the door." When Harry finished locking the door, Greg uncovered Aymee's face and told Harry "Now Harry, take off your pants. We're all gonna get naked here soon."

Harry gasped when he saw his wife's face. "What's going on here? Why is she here, like that?"

Aymee responded, nearly shouting, "This is all your fault, you bastard! Couldn't keep that little cock of yours in your pants when you were away from home, huh? Well, the only way to keep your sorry ass out of jail is for me to sell mine to your boss here! Did you ever think of me and the kids after you got on the plane? Or did little dickhead do all of your thinking for you? You son of a bitch!! You did this to me after twenty one years of marriage? I should let them throw you in jail!"

She started to stand, but stopped when she felt Greg's hand on her back. Greg looked at her, partly in wonder, partly in appreciation. Although he had suggested a minor role in berating Harry, her accusing him like this would be much more effective.

"Get your pants off, Harry, now! I'll explain. To keep you out of jail, at least until your son graduates, your wife has agreed to become my mistress. Since I demand monogamy, that means you no longer get to fuck her. She says that's not a big deal, since you weren't that good, and haven't asked for it in quite a while, anyway.

"However, you will have a role to play. I will visit your wife, at your house, every Tuesday evening, and every Friday evening. If you are at home, when I am done fucking her, you will use your tongue and lips to clean my cock. Since I usually fuck my whores in the ass when I am about to finish, it should be a special treat for you. If you do a good job, then you get to clean the slut's ass, too.

"Today, since I am a bit tired from banging my secretary this morning, I need some stimulation, and since your wife says she doesn't kiss on first dates, it's your job. Get over here on your knees and get me hard."

Harry was trying to extricate his feet from his pants legs when he heard this final command. He nearly fell on his face in horror. He looked at his boss, lifting his wife onto the desk and pushing her to lie on her back. "Come on, Harry, get the fuck over here. I'm waiting for you to start eating me before I start on your wife.

"God, she looks good. I love your natural bush, Aymee. You have a beautiful cunt. Harry, what are you waiting for? Suck my cock, or learn to suck the studs in jail. Which will it be? Bring me your shirt, I don't want to get pussy juice and saliva all over the mahogany. Good. Now get sucking."

Harry dropped to his fifty year old knees and, using two fingers, pulled Greg's flaccid cock to his mouth. He held it like it was a dead rat, and when he closed his lips around it, treated it the same way. Greg bopped him on the head with a knuckle. "Come on, Harry. Give me the same treatment you were buying from the girls in St Paul. A little tongue, some suction, some face fuggin. Come on, get with it."

As the realization of the implications sank in, Harry seemed to wilt. Not only had he been caught with his hand in the till, so to speak. He had also been caught with the other hand up a skirt. He was faced with a choice, as his boss had pointed out. Do his boss, or be done by the inmates in what ever prison he was sent to.

He opened his mouth and took the whole of the flaccid penis in his mouth and started sucking like it was a popsicle. In a few seconds he felt the cock in his mouth swell and try to force its way down his throat.

"Good job, Harry. Now go sit down and let me show you how to please a slutty whore." Greg bent over Aymee, lifting her ass onto Harry's shirt, pulling her hips closer to the edge of the desk. His mouth closed over her inner labia, his tongue just barely dancing on their surface.

"What? Ohhhh, nooo! Don't do that. Stop, please. Noooooo. Don't. Stop. Please don't. Nono nononononooooooooooo. Don't stop. Oh God, please don't stop. Harry, you bastard, this is your fault. I didn't want this.. Ohmigawd, I'm gonna cummmmmmmming!!!!!!!!!!" Her wail was clearly heard in the outer office. Luckily, Nancy was alone. She smiled to herself and shimmied in her chair. She knew what that cry meant and remembered the many times she, too, might have been heard.

Greg slowed his tongue down to lazy, soothing licks. When Aymee was quiet, he helped her to the sofa, where he put her into the doggie position. "Harry, this is how this is gonna work. Based on what you seemed to be paying out in St Paul and Denver, I figure your wife is worth a hundred dollars a night. That seem fair to you? Thought you'd agree. So far, we've found where you've tapped us for twenty grand. That means two hundred nights. Much as I'd love to fuck her every night for two hundred nights straight, I can't. And I doubt if she can either.

"So twice a week, except if she comes, like she just did, or even just a noticeable twinge of a come, that night doesn't count. For it to count, she can't enjoy it, even if she doesn't come. And if you're there, you get to suck me clean of all the cum and shit on my cock when I'm done. If you're not there, then obviously you can't.

"And, unless she asks you for help, you may not touch her--in love, lust, anger, whatever. If you do, you'll wish all you had to deal with was the bull dykes in jail.

"And, effective tomorrow, you will be transferred to the bull pen, handling customer complaints. You will be working the midnight to nine shift, handling the overseas calls. Obviously, there will be a pay cut; can't pay a customer service rep what we pay an engineer, can we?"

While he had been talking, Greg had stripped Aymee and himself. He got up on the sofa behind her and started rubbing his cock up and down her slit. Much as she wanted to beg him not to tease her, she bit her lip to stay quiet. She even tried to pull away from him. Greg noticed and grabbed her hair to pull her back. "Don't try to get away cunt, you agreed to this, now do it! Back that pussy on to my cock. Come on, do it! That's a good slut."

He pushed his cock all the way in, until his balls hit her ass. "Shit, you're tight. Are you sure you've had kids? Last time I was in anyone this tight, she was cherry. God, I can hardly move. Harry, what the fuck were you thinking, giving this up. It's like being in a silk velvet glove. Hell, I think I'll just park here for a while. Get your clothes on Harry and get the fuck out of here."

Greg crossed his legs behind him and sat back so he was sitting campfire style. He pulled Aymee back into his lap, forcing his cock up against her cervix. With his arms wrapped around her, he felt more than heard her moan. As Harry left the office, he straightened slightly, turned her face toward him and gently kissed her on the lips. "Are you okay," he asked.

"Mmmhmm. I better warn you though, if you're only going to count the nights I don't enjoy this, Harry's never going to finish his sentence."

Harry didn't wait for the invitation. He moved out that night.

********** **********

Six weeks had gone by and Greg had kept the twice a week schedule. Except there had been no sex. Dinner, theater, dancing, movies, museums and conversations galore. And a simple kiss goodnight at the door. Tonight, Aymee had insisted on cooking for them. A deliciously simple rabbit fricassee, an honest to goodness real Caesar salad, a Pinot Grigio, followed by a homemade cheesecake. She poured them another glass of wine and led Greg by the hand to the den. She had him sit on the sofa and sat next to him, leaning into him with her legs curled under her, pushing her upper body into his side.

"May I ask you something," she said.

"Of course, anything you want to know."

"What's going on? The first day I met you, we had sex like there wasn't ever going to be a chance to repeat it, and since then, if our tongues meet while you kiss me goodnight, it's practically a national holiday. Not that I haven't enjoyed being with you.

"I've loved every minute. I look forward to the days I know you'll be here, and count the minutes on those days until you ring the door. I can't wait to see you again as soon as you drive away. I want to be with you. I want to make love with you, and I sense you want me the same way, I've never felt like this with Harry, or with anyone else. And there have been opportunities.