XYZ

*Author's Note: Any and all persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.

Disclaimers: This story has been edited by myself utilizing Microsoft Spell-check. You have been forewarned; expect to find mistakes.

*.*.*.*

Garrett Dunning nodded politely as the receptionist of Glasspool, Dumont & Associates wished him a good lunch. The thirty seven year old attorney punched the button of the elevator and waited. Finally, it slid to a stop and he stepped in, nodding politely to the other occupants.

Stepping out of 1 Alliance Square, Garrett made his way across to 2 Alliance Square. Someone opened the door of the Bombay Café and the wonderful smells of the Indian cuisine wafted out, causing Garrett's stomach to rumble slightly. He briskly walked past the restaurant to the lobby of 2 Alliance Square and opened the door. Inside the air-conditioning of the lobby, Garrett search and found the door for Baron's. He entered the small jewelry store and approached the lone salesperson.

The young woman had not seen him come in. She was fiddling inside of a cabinet, nicely rounded backside wiggling as she sang, rather badly to herself.

"Hit me with your best shot. Why don't you hit me with your best shot. Hit me with your best shot. Fire away," the owner of the buttocks, encased in snug mid-thigh gray skirt warbled.

"Excuse me," Garrett said, sonorous voice clipped in impatience.

"Hey," the girl smiled, turning and straightening.

When she turned, there was actually the sound of clattering. Garrett saw that the girl's long blonde hair had been done into several slender braids. On each braid, she'd threaded several beads of gold and silver and jade. When the braids came together, they did so with a noisy clatter.

The girl pulled a set of ear buds from her ears. Her clear blue eyes smiled, unembarrassed to be caught singing to herself. She approached the counter, stocking clad legs pushing the hem of her skirt dangerously high. Her blouse was stretched taut over two very pleasant hillocks of flesh and she leaned forward, affording Garrett a glimpse down the front of her blouse to the lacy cups of her bra.

"Pearls?" Garrett asked. "I'm looking for a strand; would you have lavender?"

"Right over here," the girl smiled, indicating another counter. "For your mother?"

"My, no, for my fiancé," Garrett said, annoyed.

"Oh," the girl said, shrugging.

She stepped behind the second counter and directed Garrett's view to the elegant pearls.

"Fiancé? We also have some very nice engagement rings," the girl suggested. "Also some wedding sets."

"She'll be wearing my grandmother's engagement ring," Garrett snapped.

"Of course she will," the girl said.

"Twenty four inch," Garrett said, wanting to ask the girl what she meant by her 'of course she will' statement.

"Lavender, lav, here we are," the girl said, locating the twenty four inch strand. "And these matching earrings?"

"Just the necklace," Garrett said, pulling out his American Express credit card.

Elizabeth Dumont's ears did not have lobes. Therefore, she did not wear earrings. But this was none of this girl's business.

"Would you like this gift wrapped, sir? I can do it right now," the girl offered.

"That would be nice; it's a birthday gift," Garrett said.

"Birth, birthday, how about this gold and white paper?" the girl asked, showing Garrett the roll of thick paper.

"Perfect," Garrett said, letting the first smile crease his face.

He watched with mild interest as the salesgirl quickly, efficiently wrapped the gift. She stuck her tongue out in concentration and Garrett shuddered as he saw the small gold hoop ring on the edge of the girl's tongue. When she folded the paper over, her tongue stiffened, protruding further.

When she finished, the girl looked up, clear blue eyes twinkling with happiness at her own handiwork. She showed Garrett the package, waiting for his approval.

Garrett gave her a curt nod and her smile widened, showing perfect white teeth. She then took his credit card to the register.

"And, your copy, please sign the next copy," the girl said, putting his card and the register's receipts in front of him.

"Thank you, Garrett said, slipping his receipt into his jacket's inner pocket.

"Nice pen," the girl complimented when Garrett pulled out his Cartier pen.

"It should be," Garrett said.

He scribbled his signature and the girl picked up the scrap of paper. When she turned, her braids and beads formed a tantalizing curtain over her rounded backside and thighs.

Elizabeth would have whispered, none too quietly, that the girl might want to skip the next dessert. Garrett could not tell how tall the girl was; her feet were hidden from his view behind the counter. She could be wearing flats or five inch heels; he had no way to gauge. And portions of her did appear to be soft, but she looked curvaceous, not fat.

"Thanks, Gar. Come again," the girl said.

"Garrett. Actually? Mr. Dunning would be even better," Garrett snapped.

"Uh huh," was her response as she slipped her ear buds into her ears again.

Garrett's face flushed at her nonchalant attitude. He was an accomplished attorney, used to dealing with governors, senators, members of Congress. He was used to dealing with millionaires, billionaires, and those that used to be billionaires and millionaires, billionaires and millionaires before crossing paths with Garrett Alan Dunning and the clients of Garrett Alan Dunning.

He was tall, six feet three inches. Garrett Alan Dunning had paid his way through college on a football scholarship. Construction jobs in and around Oakleaf County had paid the expenses his athletic scholarship had not covered. Now, he spent at least three afternoons a week at the fitness center in 3 Alliance Square's ground floor.

His brown hair was thick, threatening to curl should he let it grow too long. His brown eyes were deep, warm pools. His handsome, square face was quick to sport a five o'clock shadow by three o'clock.

He dressed in nothing but the finest of clothing. He never told anyone, not even his closest acquaintances (he had no friends) but Garrett Alan Dunning had grown up wearing thrift store clothing, clothing his older sister could find at garage sales, church rummage sales. Now that he could afford the very finest, Garrett made sure he wore the very finest.

Garrett stomped out of the small jeweler's, checked his Rolex and decided he could take the time to eat. The Bombay Café was quite busy; twelve thirty was peak lunch time.

At the table, Garrett unbuttoned one button on his silk shirt and tucked his tie inside of the garment. The tie had been a gift from Elizabeth, picked up for him when she'd gone to China for negotiations with a manufacturer.

Garrett had waited the appropriate amount of time after his Allison had died, cancer, before approaching Elizabeth and pursuing a romantic relationship. At one time, the forty two year old blonde had been married to a Mr. Dumont. No one knew if Mr. Dumont had passed, or if the marriage had ended in divorce. Elizabeth was a closed book on the subject. Garrett just knew, in the twelve years he'd been with Glasspool, Dumont & Associates, there'd been no Mr. Dumont present.

The waiter showed Garrett the deference Garrett had come to expect and earned himself an eighteen percent gratuity. Wiping his mouth with the rough napkin, Garrett wondered briefly if Elizabeth would like the cuisine here at the small bistro. Before the napkin reached the roughly textured table cloth, Garrett knew the answer. Elizabeth would just tell Juan, her executive chef to prepare lamb swarma, rather than deign to eat in the quaint restaurant.

'For your mother?' the impertinent salesgirl had asked when Garrett had requested pearls.

Just what had the girl meant by that comment? Or her somewhat snide comment of 'Of course she will' when Garrett had mentioned that Elizabeth would be wearing his Grandmother's ring.

"Take on me. Take on me. Take me on, take on me, I'll be gone..." the girl was singing when Garrett strode, very purposefully into the jewelry store. "Hi Gar. I think I was born twenty years too late. I got this Eighties thing going on, you know?"

"Mister. Dunning," Garrett snarled. "Mr. Dunning."

"Okay," the girl said, easy smile showing her perfect teeth.

"So, what would you have recommended? Instead of the pearls?" Garrett demanded.

"Over here?" the girl said, unperturbed by Garrett's anger. "There's this sports watch? Brushed aluminum, waterproof..."

"She has a Rolex," Garrett snapped.

The girl regarded Garrett with a look of scorn. She held the watch up for Garrett to see.

"Uh huh. I'm sure she does," the girl said. "Gar, a Rolex is what you wear when you're going to Houston to sit through an opera, when you're pretending not to be bored out of your mind. A Rolex is what you wear when you're meeting a congressman, reminding him that you sucked his dick, time for him to bend over and take it up the ass. This? This is what you wear when you're going to get a little adventurous, a little fun."

"And these?" Garrett asked, taking the gift-wrapped box out of his inner pocket.

"Pearls? That's what you wear when all the lights have to be off. No, I don't want you to see me, make sure those curtains are closed, I'll pull the bottom of my nightgown up, you did make sure the dorr's locked, didn't you, no, don't oh that's just so nasty, don't put your mouth on my breasts, bad enough you got to touch them, you're getting your spit on me, why do you have to be such an animal, aren't you done yet, well, if you want someone that will do that, then you need to see one of your little whores, a proper lady doesn't do that," the girl said. "I am not putting my mouth, I cannot believe you would even suggest, just what have you been watching?"

Garrett stared at the salesgirl. Elizabeth was poised, elegant, intelligent. She had surgically enhanced breast, a size 34C on a thin, almost boyish frame. Her white blonde hair did not quite touch her shoulders, her clear blue eyes were underneath expertly formed eyebrows, her nose was perfectly proportioned to her square face.

In the three years that they'd been involved, in the two years and six months that they'd been intimate, Garrett had only seen Elizabeth nude once.

She'd been stepping out of her shower and had slipped and fallen. Garrett had rushed in and caught a brief, very brief glimpse of her dark brown bush, her muscled legs and flat abdomen. Elizabeth had shrieked for him to get out, get out, she was fine, get out.

A few moments later, she emerged, fully dressed, and insisted that Garrett drive her to the emergency room. She'd broken two ribs in her fall.

"And that watch?" Garrett asked, pointing to the attractive watch the salesgirl held out.

"This?" the girl smiled. "This is a waterproof watch. This, you wear this in the shower, want to come scrub my back? That's not my back, but as long as you're scrubbing that, might as well get that clean. No, Gar, that's still not my back, but that does feel nice. This is a sports watch. This is a let's go on a hike watch. This is a you see anyone? Ever do it outdoors? Yes, I know we could get caught, so instead of running your mouth, why don't you hurry up and get those pants off. No. Off. I'm taking mine off, you need to take yours all the way off. It's got a stopwatch on it; let's see how quick I can make you come, and Go! This is a sports watch, Gar. It's an adventure watch, it's a we spend twenty four seven inside, let's get out and do something watch."

Allison had been timid, almost painfully shy about him seeing her body. Garrett had known Allison packed a few extra pounds; bouncy, he'd called her. That had been part of what had attracted him to her. After their marriage, she'd finally allowed him to see her nude body. Even then, she tried to cover herself with her small hands.

Certain sex acts, Allison had stared at him, confused. Anal sex, she had been sure Garrett was making that up; no one would put their manhood into a girl's bottom. The Internet had proved invaluable and Allison had goggled at the numerous video clips Garrett had shown her.

The first time they tried it, she'd whimpered, grunted, protested. A few nights later, she shyly asked him if he wanted to maybe possibly kind of try that, you know, that up the butt thing again.

Third time's a charm. After that, Allison wanted anal sex at least once a week. Garrett would come home 'from the salt mines' to a home-cooked meal. Then Allison would coyly suggest that they have dessert in the bedroom. Dessert in the bedroom was her code for 'I want my fudge packed.'

She had gone from shy, demure, reserved, to adventurous, inquisitive. Allison had heard horror stories about shaving her pubic region, but instead of believing what she'd heard, Allison researched it. Garrett's enthusiasm over her hairless mound had made her giggle happily.

Just as they celebrated their seventh year, Allison started losing weight. She was tired all the time.

Two days after their eighth anniversary, Allison tried to tell Garrett she loved him. She was too weak to say the words. So, she tapped one, four, three times on his hand. I. Love. You.

Those feather light touches had been their last communication; she shuddered once and then the machines started their horrific incessant whining.

Garrett looked at the watch's price tag. He frowned and held out the gift-wrapped box.

"That, these pearls cost three times what that watch costs," Garrett pointed out.

"Yeah? And? Gar, life doesn't come with a price tag," the girl smiled.

"Don't you work on commission?" Garrett asked.

"Yeah. Base plus commission. And if I don't clear base? Bye-bye," the girl smiled.

"So, simple math," Garrett nearly crowed. "You would have to sell three of those to make up for selling one of these."

"Never mind," the girl said, frowning.

She put the watch back onto the display band. She slid the counter's door open and put the watch back into the case.

"Those? Those are pearls. There's nothing wrong with pearls. Pearls are for someone that's like 'My name is Patricia. Not Pat. Not Patty. Patricia,'" the girl said, now walking away from Garrett.

"Uh huh," Garrett said.

"Or Mister. Mr. Dunning, not Gar," the girl said and began to fiddle with a display rack that held replacement watch bands.

Garrett set his jaw firmly then turned on his heel. The girl watched him stomp out of the small store and shrugged her shoulders. Her ear buds went back into her ears.

A moment later, John Baron came in, looking over his shoulder. He then turned and smiled at his newest sales girl. The girl was bright, personable, and truthfully, not hard to look at.

"Go to lunch, huh?" John ordered playfully. "Look like you about to starve to death there."

"Uh huh," Xaviera smiled and skipped to the rear of the small store.

"Damn!" John exclaimed a moment later. "You sold the lavender strand?"

"Uh huh," Xaviera called out from the stockroom.

"That guy in the navy blue suit?" John guessed, sticking his head into the back of the store.

"With the aquamarine tie," Xaviera agreed, smiling. "How long you think it'll take before someone tells him he's got it stuck in his shirt?"

"Pissed off as he looked? Bet no one does," John said.

Stepping onto the elevator at 1 Alliance Square, Garrett jabbed the button for the third floor almost viciously. He'd had a mayor speak to him in a condescending manner once and Garrett had smiled, showing nearly all of his teeth. The very next day, he'd smiled again when the mayor had been slammed to the pavement and handcuffed and read his rights.

"Next time? Might want to watch how you talk to people," Garrett had said, again, showing all of his teeth.

The mayor had managed, just barely, to wiggle out of a conviction. But his political career was over. When a political career ends, those that had owed you favors no longer owe you any favors. Those that you'd held in your back pockets no longer fit into your back pocket. Garrett had no idea what that condescending jerk was doing now, nor did he care.

"God damned little..." Garrett muttered to himself, ignoring the receptionist's cheerful greeting.

"Mr. Dunning?" Brianna Walker called out. "Your two o'clock is waiting. Conference room two"

"What? Why the hell didn't you...?" Garrett snapped.

"I did. I texted you three times," Brianna snapped, beautiful blue eyes blazing. "Mr. Dunning? Don't you dare raise your voice to me; I am not one of your staff."

"I apologize," Garrett said, gritting his teeth.

"Yes sir," Brianna snapped, turning on her very expensive heel and marching back to her office. "Oh. And fix your tie."

His two o'clock appointment was not pleased with having to wait on Garrett Alan Dunning. By the end of their meeting, though, their feathers had been smoothed down again. The papers had been signed, the retainer had been paid and their next appointment had been set.

"Where were you?" Elizabeth Dumont demanded to know when Garrett returned to his own office.

"Out," Garrett said tersely.

"Out?" Elizabeth said, tone of voice letting him know she did not appreciate his terse reply.

"Yes, out," Garrett said.

"Well, try not to be out tonight; we're meeting with Edward Deubler and that little teeny bopper he's married to," Elizabeth snapped.

"Tokyo Gardens," Garrett said.

"I honestly do not understand what, well, she's pregnant with their second, no, no, and it's their third child. Probably how she trapped him," Elizabeth said nastily as she left the office. "She's more than half his age, though. I mean, really."

Garrett wondered just how old the salesgirl was. 'Life doesn't come with a price tag' indeed.

"Just wait, young lady. You'll find out. Life most certainly does come with a price tag," Garrett simmered.

Garrett stepped into the men's' room, changed out of his suit and scraped his dense beard from his face. He hated the electric razor; it irritated his skin, but the appliance was more practical than keeping shave foam and razor blade in his desk drawer.

Pulling on a navy blue blazer, light gray slacks and light gray and blue tie, he hurried from the bathroom. He draped his suit over the back seat of his Mercedes and pulled out of the covered garage. From garage, Garrett drove to Elizabeth's Julia Lake home and waited patiently while she readied herself.

"Hmm, very nice," Garrett said, admiring her simple white dress. "Know what would make that look even better?"

"Hmm?" Elizabeth purred, smiling.

Elizabeth was dutifully pleased with the strand of pearls. She even coyly suggested that Garrett might get lucky that evening, after they'd finished with their business with the Deublers.

Edward and Terri Deubler were polite. Terri had pictures of their two sons on her cell phone and Elizabeth made the appropriate noises as she looked at the pictures. She made the appropriate facial expressions when Terri informed them that they'd just been granted custody of Katianna, her cousin's daughter, after her cousin's boyfriend had been arrested for some very inappropriate behavior.

But Edward was not interested in taking on Glasspool, Dumont & Associates as his law firm, even if he was expanding outside of the Texas market. He did know that Glasspool, Dumont & Associates had extensive business acumen built by years of experience, but he was content to stay with Theresa White, his attorney.

"Yes, yes, Ms. White is fine for Texas," Elizabeth said, trying to smile graciously. "But we have attorneys that are licensed to practice in Louisiana. In Oklahoma, In Arkansas, in..."

"Fifteen years ago," Edward said, smiling as he speared a shrimp. "I came to Glasspool, Dumont, Fremin, Wagner. You sat right across from me and told me I was wasting my time, your time, the firm's time. Then, for the pleasure of being rude to me? You sent me a bill for four hundred and eighty dollars."