Mrs. Hardison Ch. 03

"I think I hate working for the Bitch," Sadri says loudly over the sound of the other twenty-something's at the bar.

"She grows on you," I respond. "We get things done."

"You've already racked up two strikes against you in less than a year," she counters. "You work your ass off for her."

"That's a story for another time," I grin.

"Thanks for covering me while I've been learning things around here," she smiles then kisses me on the cheek. I stroke her cheek in return.

"Hang in there. It is a ball working with you, but speaking of work, I've got one more thing to do tonight before I can take it easy," I chuckle.

"Your girlfriend; well, don't forget your safe word," she laughs. Clearly Sadri thinks I'm having a far more vigorous sex life than I'm actually having.

"Always keep a spare handcuff key underneath the pillow," I advise her in mock-seriousness. "Got to go now."

"Take care; maybe we can go out for some serious partying on Friday?"

"I'll see what I can do," I promise. Explain this to Gloria isn't going to be difficult; it is going to be impossible.

It is past eight when Gloria gets home. I'm sitting on the sofa barely paying attention to the news while doing some work. She comes into the living room and looks me over.

"I didn't expect to see you tonight," she says carefully.

"I made pasta and salad," I respond. She goes in and fixes herself a plate. I follow her in and get some tea while she digs in.

"Tastes good," she mumbles. I nod and smile. As she finishes she broaches the subject, "After this morning I wasn't sure how well you would take it."

"Work is work and that won't affect us; that is the deal," I tell her happily.

"In that case you are back to being highly annoying," she states.

"Does that mean you aren't going to eat desert," I taunt her.

"Will you get over me firing you?" she says coolly.

"Yeah; will you get over me being a jerk some times?" I counter.

"You are getting the better part of that bargain," she notes patiently.

"Sometimes I just too smart for you," I gloat. She tends to weigh her options; I've left her with so many, but she slides her hand across the table and squeezes my hand instead. I think she's coming around to my way of thinking. Victory isn't so much beating the other guy as in getting what you want. We want to make each other happy. Tonight that means she doesn't beat me up.

(Wednesday)

"How did Bronson go?" Sidra asks.

"Someone doesn't know the difference between a colon and semi-colon," I mutter. I've wasted thirty minutes on a trivial error. I look over Sadri's cue. We aren't buried so our beta must be doing its job.

"You have a call from Katherine Wilson over in Legal," she slyly grins. I try not to let the concern wash over my face. I take the message and put it aside. After spending two hours leaning what I bad sexist pig I've been I give my old friend Kate a call. She tells me I have a five o'clock meeting with Ms. Cook.

The office floor is nearly empty except for Mrs. Wilson who waves me in silently. Yeah, I don't want to know what was going through her brain. I close the door behind me and start toward her desk. Joyce looks up at me and looks very displeased.

"What happened last time will not be repeated Mr. Duarte," she states firmly.

I take in a few of the options that present themselves. I need to find a way to move Joyce past her hate of Gloria and Vance is the key.

"Come here," I order her. Her distain turns to anger.

"Get out," she countermands me.

I shrug and leave. I can hear her chair slam back and her coming around the table. I count her steps before turning and facing her. She hesitates but keeps coming. When we collide she's too torn to formulate an effective defense. I grab her cheeks and kiss her.

"Take off your jacket," I tell her. She tries to slap me but I block her.

"Take off your jacket," I growl, "or I'll take it off you." She struggles once more for a response so I kiss her again. "Is this how you want us to end?" She knows I'm not him but still ... Joyce takes off her jacket and tosses it to the couch.

"You are fantastic," I tell her as I look over her body. Joyce's breathe speeds up.

I take her hands and slowly raise them over them over her head until I lock her fingers together. I kiss her again then let my fingers trace their way back down to the top of her head, ears and cheeks. Joyce closes her eyes as I gently grace her lips with kisses once more.

"Do you want to be mine?" I whisper to her.

"I want to be with you," she answers.

"Not good enough Joyce. Are you going to be mine to fuck with whenever I want to do whatever I want?" I respond sternly. Joyce's eyes open and she looks at me.

"I want to be with you Eddie," she tells me, "but I'm not a whore." I step back.

"Then you are not worth me having. We both know what I have waiting at home and if you aren't even going to try, why am I wasting my time here," I prod her.

"Eddie," she pleads.

"Take off your shirt and bend over the damn desk!" I shout.

Joyce jumps. I glare at her until she staggers back to her desk, strips off her shirt and bends over. I feel like such a monster making her go back through this again. I pull up her skirt then rub my hands from her calves to her neck.

"God damn you are hot as hell," I praise her and she gives a tiny sigh.

I rake my hands over her thighs, hips and buttocks until they leave welts. I take her panties up and wedge them into her ass until she moans. I finish up by rubbing along her pussy and she's already soaking through the sheer fabric.

"Do you want me to fuck you like you were my own?" I ask softly.

"Yes," she pants. I vigorously rub the thin fabric while I push her down on the table so that her bra-covered boobs are mashed out.

"Why?" I inquire.

"I have to have you back," she sighs. "Damn you Eddie, you just won't get out of my mind."

That is not what I am expecting or wanting to hear.

"What will you do if you can't have me?" I question carefully.

"Give me a chance Eddie, you'll see," she insists. She's not desperate, just determined. "Give me until tomorrow; give me that long." Like an idiot I can't keep my mouth shut.

"This is your last chance," I lie once more, "but if you can't convince me then we are done, promise me that."

"It that is how it has to be," she whispers. I turn and leave her laid out over her desk and I dare not look back less she sees the conflict in my eyes.

(Thursday)

We met that evening at the restaurant at the Regis Hotel, not a good sign. Strangely and most hopefully we talk about Vance and the impact he had on her career. I can see that he has a hold on her, both intellectually and sexually but I can't get her to understand the darker side of that relationship.

I somehow cling to his idea that I can get her to understand that things aren't like what she has remembered, which really begin pulling her to edge. Sniffling she asks me to take her to a room then be on my way. She accepts that we aren't going to work out. Once inside the room, her whole demeanor changes. She challenges me to show her how much I am over her; she turned the tables on me, daring me to push her away. Her clothes started coming off.

"I'll do whatever you want," she purrs as she pushes her whole body against me. Her bra springs free and she presses her two magnificent orbs into my hands. "Whatever you want, Eddie; however you want to use me," she emphasizes. She turns and drives her ass against me and when I move to separate us she channeled the energy so that I ended up throwing her face first onto the bed.

I'm looking down on this fine piece of ass and I know I can be fucking her from behind in less than ten seconds. Hell, I could be pushing it up her ass if I want to. She's begging for it and damn she looks fine but all I find myself thinking about is Gloria and my child. I've fucked up already but I have the power to not make it worse.

"Joyce," I say as I step back, "I can't do this." I also feel myself stepping back into sanity. "I can't be him for you and I don't think anyone should be." I am panting and unsteady on my feet. Joyce looks back over her shoulder confused and unfocused. I lightly brush her hip and start moving around the bed. I need to get out of here.

"You are going back to her," Joyce whispers. I nod. I'm going back to Gloria. "I won't let that happen," she adds.

"Joyce, I can't be Vance for you. It isn't in me. I thought I could make a difference but I can't go as far as you need me to go," I explain.

"I am not going to let her to this to me again – to us again," she mumbles. She is moving around on the bed but all I want to do is button up my shirt and get out. I hear her purse tip over and I'm wondering if she's going to call security on me until I hear the hammer click back on the gun.

"Joyce ..." I start to say.

"No!" she screams so frantically that I have to turn around. She's got a gun out and is pointing it at me, the contents of her bag strewn out on the bed.

"Joyce ..." I repeat. I want to say 'you don't want to do this' when the gun goes off. I know that I've been shot but I don't know where; the pain is too much.

I slide down the wall because my legs don't feel like responding. I look over to Joyce and she's shocked. All kinds of things have to be going through her head; shooting me again has to be one of them. She comes across the bed, gun in hand but pointed down. She starts sobbing.

"Oh God!" she blubbers.

"Joyce, put the gun down and call 9-1-1," I rasp. She stares at me. She's a smart girl but she is struggling to keep up with events. "Joyce, if you put the gun down and call 9-1-1 we can claim the gun accidently went off." She clearly is unsure whether or not she should believe me. "Joyce, in this hotel a dozen calls must have already gone in to hotel security if not the police," I explain. "If you call now you get ahead of the situation."

That seems to get through to her. She scrambles over the bed and grabs her phone before running back over to me. I'm wondering if Joyce Cook's sky blue silk covered ass is going to be one of my last memories. She kneels down in front of me and she dials the phone. Now I have a great view of her tits. They are not as good as Gloria's but they are nice.

"Hello," Joyce's voice wobbles. "I've had an accident in room 346 at the Regis. My companion has been shot."

I am not sure about what is being said to her or what she says next. My head begins bobbing and my feet begin feeling cold – not a good sign. My mental clarity is slipping.

"Hang in Eddie. Don't die," Joyce pleads. "Promise me you won't leave me." The words won't come but I think I nod my head.

I think I hear someone knocking at the door and Joyce leaves me. It is too hard to focus. Someone else is shaking me, telling me to stay awake but all I need to do is rest my eyes for a moment.