The Charity Trap

Coming in late, Derek looked her over with wide eyes. Her cheeks were red, eyes puffy, and her expression couldn't hide that she was about to break down.

"Lynn, come into my office, would you?"

I'm probably fucking fired. Or he'll just shoot me and get it over with. That actually sounds good, she thought.

She entered his business office, away from his private quarters but still on the penthouse floor, and stood before his desk. She usually looked sharp. Today she looked like shit.

"You don't look ready to go to work. What's the problem?" As usual, Derek showed little emotion, his voice as dry as Death Valley.

In desperation, a thought came to her, and she was just unhinged enough to entertain it.

"Some trouble with my sister. She's got some new health problems and I'm kind of stressed. But don't worry. I'll get it together. I'm on it. No problem."

"Hmm. OK. Let's meet before lunch about the Greig Industries issues. See what should be done with those morons."

Lynn knew a little about Derek's playtime with the women and how he used their desire to do good for others. She really didn't approve, but it was also none of her business, and she wasn't directly involved.

"Yeah, sure, I've got some ideas. Hey, look, I don't want to butt in where I don't belong, but you know how you help those women with their pet projects, charities and all that? Well this thing with my sister has really gone tits up, and..." Lynn started to choke up. "I thought maybe we could talk about you helping with this because I just can't do it all anymore, it's really gotten bad." Tears could be heard hitting the carpet.

Derek glanced up, looking her over. It felt as if she were getting a CT scan. Or a colonoscopy. She couldn't read him. She could never read him.

"OK, I can see this is something I should get involved with. Come back at 11 and we'll go over Greig. Then in the next few days get me all the details on your sister -- everything. I want to think this over."

Lynn tried to get her composure back. "Right. 11 o'clock. I'll have it ready."

She rushed out of his office and into the restroom. It took her 10 minutes to calm down, reapply makeup, and focus. Lynn, you can't fuck this up. Lori will not get another chance like this. You don't know what he'll agree to do or what he'll want, but do whatever it takes. Do anything. You can do anything.

When she got back to her office she was as close to her usual self as possible. The Greig report was done quickly, and she was back with Derek at 10:50, fully prepared. The presentation went well, but Derek seemed a little preoccupied. "Probably thinking about fucking my brains out," she imagined. "Well, let him. Every fucking week if he wants."

Derek approved he plan and told her to pass it along to senior management at Greig with his imprimatur. As Lynn turned to go back to her office, Derek stopped her.

"One more thing. After you send instructions to Greig, use your keycard and go into my private office. Jeanne is already there. She knows what to do. And then take the rest of the day off."

Then he was on the phone with somebody, making another deal.

Lynn was perplexed, because there was no deal, no quid pro quo in effect between them. Derek never did anything without an agreement beforehand. But she followed instructions, set Greig straight, and then entered the private office. She had seldom been there before, because almost all the business was done out there, not here. She saw, Jeanne, a pleasant-looking woman perhaps in her early 50s, dressed in scrubs. She greeted Lynn with a warm, genuine smile. What was she doing here?

"Hello, you have to be Lynn. Let's get started right away. If you want to shower first, it's right through the bedroom, and on your right. I'll get things ready out here."

"I suppose I should," said Lynn, in a resigned voice. She tied her hair up, and there was some scent-free body wash and a stack of luxurious towels. The shower was huge, with all sorts of sprayers and faucets and controls, even a touch screen panel. She undressed and stepped in, taking a few minutes trying to figure out how to get some warm water from a direction that wouldn't wet her hair. She soaped up her slim, petite body, looking younger than her years. She was meticulous, not knowing what part of her would come into play. It occurred to her that she had never prepared like this when she wasn't looking forward to what was going to happen.

She came out into the bedroom nude, thinking, why bother being modest now, and there was Jeanne next to a massage table,

"Oh my, well I see you aren't at all shy!" The older women chucked. "It's perfectly all right. I've practiced all over the world, and the Europeans aren't as uptight as we Americans are about nudity. You have a lovely body, I don't see why you wouldn't be proud of it. Not true of all my clients, I could tell you! Just get up on my table, face down if you please, and we'll begin. The whole point is for you to relax and think about as little as possible, except how all the tension and anxiety is draining away."

Over the next hour and a half, Jeanne worked magic on Lynn's body, comforting her, and pushing her troubles away as far as her strong hands could. Jeanne took her in hand, stretching, stroking, kneading, caressing. Almost nothing was off limits, except direct contact with her vagina and anus. Jeanne came close at times, but skillfully avoided anything overtly sexual. The touch was intensely healing and caring. Jeanne was an artist in massage. It seemed to last forever, but then it was over too soon.

"All right, dear, that's my part. Mr. Shannon said that you were free to take a nap if you like, but that he would like the apartment back no later than 5pm. You can use that little elevator to get to the 77th floor, and then the regular elevator to go home. You do have a very lovely body, Lynn. It's been a pleasure for me to help if I could." Then Jeanne was gone.

Lynn dozed a little, then showered again and dressed, getting home early, at least for her. Cady had packed up and left, leaving a bittersweet note behind. Lynn poured herself a glass of white wine and wondered what was Derek's game? What was his deal? Damn, that was a great massage.

The next day was business as usual. She had no meeting with Derek, so she got back to her other projects. She had slept for nine and a half hours, and felt physically better than she had in weeks. Thank you, Jeanne.

She noticed that Derek was not in his office at 3:30, and assumed he might have one of his "special" appointments in his private office. She was correct.

Taylor and Gina

Their grandparents might have been Hippies, but they would have fit right in at a commune or at a Grateful Dead concert back in the day. Eighteen years old (Derek examined their IDs carefully), clad in only natural, vegan attire, these two were like counterculture bookends. Taylor: blonde, slim, in a crop top and flared jeans, and Gina: the black-haired Mediterranean twin, with olive skin. Straight hair right out of Mary of Peter, Paul, and Mary, and a naivete that was endearing, but would probably wear thin over a time. Like a few days.

For the girls it was all about the trees. Buying them, planting them, nurturing them, saving the planet with them.

This was going to be almost too easy.

They collected the promised check for $2,000, overcome with glee. There was some squealing. The most they had ever raised from one person was $100 from Taylor's dad. And then came Derek's offer of $5000 more, with the usual warnings about keeping quiet. That got their attention. They both swore not to tell anyone. Derek doubted anyone would believe much of what they said anyway, but he was convinced.

"Oh, WOW, Mr. Shannon, this is just too much," enthused Gina, "Well, not really too much, I mean don't take it back, OK?" She started giggling. "No, no, we want the check, Mr. Shannon," insisted Taylor. "We're cool with it. Come on, Gina, let's see that amazing bod."

And in about 20 seconds they were both completely naked. "And we both swallow, too, so don't worry about that," assured the pretty black-haired girl, as her partner nodded enthusiastically. "We like it. You can pee on me too," insisted Taylor, "Not meeee! Yelled Gina, making face and laughing. No peeing! I'll pee on her if you want, though. Or I'll pee on both of you, I don't care. That's OK."

Fully dressed, with a massive eyeroll, Derek led them into the bedroom, and suggested they start with each other. Instantly they embraced and began kissing and fondling each others' young bodies. This was not their first rodeo, Derek could see. The girls became more vocal, and Derek was thankful for the soundproofing in his private suite. Soon it seemed they forgot about him entirely and were possibly in some sort of competition to see who could make the other orgasm most. It was fascinating. Kind of like a nature documentary on a porn channel.

Derek took a chair and enjoyed the show. Gina seemed to be in the lead, as Taylor stopped licking and probing when she was getting off, which was pretty often. Assholes were not off limits, as fingers and tongues found those sensitive areas. At some point they pretty much became one organism, locked in a 69 that the Jaws of Life couldn't separate. It got a lot quieter with each mouth busy in the other's crotch, and their juices flowed freely.

But Derek wasn't really aroused, and even began to get a bit bored. He realized that there had been no shock on the part of the girls, no resistance, no objection. He probably could have gotten the same result just picking them up at a coffee house and taken them back here. They were having too much fun on their own.

He went over to the girls and tapped Taylor on the shoulder. It took three taps before he got her attention. Gina kept lapping away, her index finger deep in Taylor's butt. "Look, guys, we're good. Have fun planting your trees, and thanks for coming in."

"Huh, what? Uh, UH, Gina your mouth feels so good on my pussy. And you're fucking me up my ass, you bitch! Oh, Mr. Shannon, you can fuck us too, it's cool. Oh OHH! You're making me cum again, baby!"

Derek had to get them to stop for a minute just to tell them they could finish, but had to be gone in an hour. Have a great time and shower up if you want, and I'll be back then, OK?

"OK, dude. You're really cool. Thanks for all that tree money," Said Gina. "Yeah, thanks, Mr. Shannon," said Taylor. "Call us if you want us to come back. No money or trees or anything. We'd just like to fuck you too sometime."

"Thanks, girls. Remember, one hour." Derek went back to work, puzzled and a bit amused, but not satisfied.

Lynn

Finally Derek emailed Lynn about meeting to discuss her sister's financial needs. Every day since she brought it up she had been careful to come to the office impeccably groomed, all over. She never knew when she would have to get naked and do who knows what, or have who knows what done to her. It was nerve wracking, like being an on-call call girl. But finally he wanted to talk about it.

One side of her was hoping he would really help, no matter what the personal cost to her. She had been trying to prepare mentally, to be able to separate her soul from her body if things got awful. But at the same time to give Derek what he needed, whatever that was. The other side hoped she would be spared.

She wasn't exclusively lesbian. It had just been a while since she had been with a man sexually or intimately. Men didn't repulse her so much as she hadn't really been interested in them lately. She thought she had found a true love in Cady, but no. That was doomed by this job, and she couldn't give it up, even for her own happiness.

Surprisingly, the meeting was set for Derek's regular business office, and not in the private suite. Again, she couldn't figure him out, although she was pretty sure he wouldn't want to fuck her in that glass office where all the whole 77th floor would see the show.

So she knocked on the door frame as she peeked in, 3 minutes early. "Yes, come in, Lynn. Take a seat."

She was almost shaking in anticipation. Mouth dry, waiting.

"I've looked over all the material you sent. Very comprehensive, as usual. You are good with the details. Poor girl, Lori. I'm sorry she's had to endure all this. I can't imagine how you feel." This was literally true. Derek always had to try really hard to generate any kind of empathy.

"These numbers are really something. This isn't planting trees or funding food banks."

"Yeah, I know. Just anything you can do to hel-"

"So I had Simon and Joel in legal set up a foundation and an associated annuity. As Lori's guardian, you'll retain authority over her care and expenses, ostensibly approved by the foundation, which does all the funding and pays the providers directly. So you'll never actually handle any of the money and in that way the IRS will never have an interest in you. You want that, believe me.

"It starts at $1.5 million a year, with $750 thousand immediately at startup for any surgeries, procedures, etc. That should be enough but let me know if there's something we haven't anticipated. So see the guys in legal for the paperwork, and we're all set."

Oh crap. Oh fucking crap. I've totally sold myself. I can't negotiate, I can't object to anything. This man owns me.

"And now what?" said Lynn timidly. "What do I need to do?"

"Well, the Grieg thing is working out beautifully. It's better than I thought it would be. So get the next project in your inbox and get to work."

"Derek, I mean...I don't understand. You know what I'm talking about."

Derek sat back in his chair, clearly uncomfortable. He took a moment to speak. "Not with you, Lynn. You know relationships are difficult with me. You know a little bout my...hobby. I don't relate well with women, or even just with people. I just don't understand how. But I understand tech, business, agreements, like that. And over the years you have always been 100% on point when you say you'll do something or agree to something."

He looked to the side. "I know you work for me and it isn't the same, but I like to think of you as kind of a friend. The money's not important in this. Oh yeah, and one more thing. No more coming in before 7:30 or leaving after 6:30. Or Sundays. Your access card won't work, so don't try. Don't kill yourself for this job. That's it."

Lynn blubbered out some gratitude, most of it unintelligible. Then she hurried off to the ladies' room, so grateful it was empty, and had a good 5-minute cry. Later at home she had another 30 minutes.

Jessica

She knew she was going to barf. She always did in these situations. It was just a matter of when, and of being prepared. So she always had 3-5 airline air sickness bags in her everyday rucksack, and one was on her lap as the 8-passenger Cessna bush plane bobbed along, enduring routine turbulence en route to her nonprofit's latest project.

"Mind pulling over, Jack?" joked the Executive Director of Waterlife, outfitted in khaki shorts and shirt, sturdy boots, and a red neckerchief.

"Sorry, darlin', but it's the bag for you again. Just let fly. Wait. You didn't have that leftover pilau (spicy rice) from last night for breakfast, did you? Oh, fuck, this is going to stink up my plane, you bad girl. Oh shit."

"I...uh (the plane rocked and swayed)...did just that thing, Jack. I just love it so mu--OH Uhhhhh!" And there went her breakfast into the bag. Jack had called it. It smelled and tasted delicious last night, but going the other way it was toxic waste's delinquent older brother. Jessica heaved some more, and immediately felt a whole lot better. Taking a swig from her canteen, she rinsed into the bag, and then sealed it all in a plastic trash bag as a courtesy to Jack. After all, he had been her favorite pilot since she began installing wells and sanitation projects in Kenya 16 months earlier. He knew she operated on a shoestring and lived on the cheap, and he knew the benefits of clean water for Kenyans.

Thankfully, there was no indication the pilau was going to seek a secondary path out of her body. There was nothing wrong with the food -- it was just a matter of her being routinely airsick. And she would likely have some more pilau tonight, since she didn't have to fly the next day. Good thing, since she didn't have a spare pair of shorts and panties.

"You're the most beautiful thing in this beautiful country, Jess, even when you're blowing chunks in my nice clean airplane," joked Jack Hawkins, informal discount bush taxi service provider and sometime friend with benefits to the brown beauty beside him in the co-pilot's chair. "But I have to say I liked you better last night with your ass in the air and my cock buried in that sweet cunt."

"Shit, you sure know how to sweet-talk a girl, Jacky." Laughed Jessica, fondly remembering getting railed by him in his hotel room after dinner. Jack was 17 years her senior, at 47, but he fucked like a youngster, and for a lot longer too. And she had needed a good one too, after spending weeks getting this well drilled, installing the manual pump, and also providing a hygiene station for the village. She had developed relationships with the local leaders, gaining their confidence, and teaching them how to teach others about the health and safety of clean water. Suffering would be prevented, and innocent lives saved, and she was horny for that even more than for Jack's fat cock. "You know, Jacky, I would still fuck you even if you didn't give me the extra special super discount rate for my work."

"That's good to hear, Jess. I feel real good about that, but I'm glad to help."

"But I wouldn't suck that thing, though. No way."

"I bet this won't be the first time I'll tell you to fuck off today. Wanna take that bet?"

"Nope," she laughed.

After less than two hours in the air, the plane began descending, and at first she couldn't see the project. These things were small, but vital, and so just a little investment did so much good. She saw the largest village first, and since she knew where to look, saw the vehicles and people at the site. Setting down expertly, Jack taxied to a Land Rover waiting near the dirt runway, and the driver took them to the village's new well and sanitation facility.

Clean water, ongoing maintenance, and training for a local crew had been provided through fund-raising by Jessica and her organization, Waterlife. Inspired by a science project as a high school freshman, it eventually grew into a formal nonprofit with 6 other similar projects to its credit. Battling horrific diseases such as cholera, and promoting health and well-being in general, Jessica had found her calling. There was nothing else she ever wanted to do. The dedication ceremony went well, she took her bows, and was soon airborne on her way to the hotel.

Seven communities healthier than they had been before. That's what she said to herself over and over as she went to sleep that night, back in the city. Healthy babies. Her dreams were sweet.

*

That was 3 weeks earlier. This morning, access card in hand, Jessica Orozco crossed the main lobby of Derek's building. Although not the most beautiful woman there, she turned heads. She tended to turn heads wherever she went. There was something special about her, something that glowed. In the main elevator the other passengers smelled something not immediately familiar to many of them, which was the simple smell of clean. As someone who had wrestled with assembling and installing water pumps and hygienic systems in rural Africa, she was quite familiar with getting quite mucky and dirty. And people who have had that experience know the value of clean.