The Golden Serpent Pt. 03: The Glass Tower

The Glass Tower

Tom sat at his new desk, looking out over Sutton Harbour. The cloudless sky let in rays of morning sunlight through the quiet, open-plan office. Through the windows, he could see yachts of various sizes moored up at the harbour below him. He was alone, sat in front of a desk with a laptop, his smartphone, and whatever ideas he had running through his head.

There was no micromanaging - no one cared if he was one minute late back from break. It felt like freedom. He never thought he could feel this fucking amazing at work.

Celia had exaggerated his media experience to the CEO of Sutton Media, and they welcomed him into his new role as a staff writer.

Tom was seriously grateful for this, but he knew the pressure was on. First, he had to learn a role that he was not as experienced or qualified for as his managers were led to believe.

And second, his position on the company was dependent on how much information he could get on a woman called Danielle Morgan, who was on the web development team. He felt as though he had two jobs to do, but it was a good pressure to feel. He actually felt engaged at work for once.

'Morning Tom!'

A muscular guy in a navy polo shirt and khaki chinos walked into the office, dumping his messenger bag by his desk.

'Morning!' Tom smiled back. 'In late aren't you John?'

'Traffic's bad,' replied John. 'Got stuck on the Tamar bridge.'

John was deceptively muscular under his polo shirt and glasses. As someone who seemed to have tried every extreme sport under the sun, he still didn't seem to have settled down in his mid-thirties. Now he was a staff writer and part-time documentary maker who was still determined to film every adventure he went on.

The two of them clicked. John marked Tom out as a fellow gym rat from the start, and had roped him into training in his local gym, instead of the cheap one Tom was accustomed to.

'You do know about the drinks we're having next Friday?' said John.

'No?'

'At the Custom House. We always drink there, last Friday of the month. Are you coming?'

'Yeah, go on then.'

For once, Tom was actually enthusiastic about drinking with his coworkers. He actually looked forward to coming into the office and seeing them.

It made him a little sad that things weren't as good as they could have been at his old job.

The day that Tom handed in his notice was glorious. First, it was the surprise on his manager's face, who thought he was a lifer, just like everyone else working there.

Then it was the looks on the faces of some of his female coworkers. He didn't realize how many of them actually liked him.

He remembered Sadie, a slim brunette with gorgeous flowing hair, and an ass he couldn't resist checking out. She followed him outside the building on his last day. She invited him to connect with her on Facebook, and suggesting they go out for a drink some time.

There were other women in the office who came in on that day: some wearing low cut tops to catch his eye; others finding excuses to stop and talk to him. If every day was like that for him there, it would have been harder for him to leave.

However, before Tom even started his new position, he was not comfortable with the gaps in his knowledge and experience. Although he was there to get Celia's information, one day that assignment would be fulfilled. Tom assumed she wouldn't have much use for him, assuming that Danielle was gone.

So Tom hit the online courses, social media channels, quizzing people on LinkedIn. Doing the things he really needed to do before landing the job, in the hope that he would stay there.

Danielle was on the Web Development team in an adjacent office. They were introduced on his first day, when John led him on a tour of the office.

Danielle was sat at her cluttered desk, the only woman in a room with a room with three other guys, staring at lines of code over their morning coffee. She had dark, wavy hair that went down to her shoulders, constrasted by a pale, oval face.

Danielle had a great, wide smile as she shook Tom's hand.

"Danielle," said John. "This is Tom, the latest member of our writing team."

Tom caught Danielle subtly regarding his body through a pair of thick, yet stylish spectacles. And he was regarding her right back the whole time. She had a pretty good figure beneath her dark clothing. She made him think of a younger Juliette: Slim, almost his height, with large breasts that were straining through her tight black T-shirt.

"Danielle is something of a coding genius," said John. "She's been working on the backend of our websites for a while now. She's our go-to for anything website-related."

"I'm no genius," she replied. "I've just been doing this for longer than anyone else."

Three deskbound coding nerds glared at both of them in the background. Tom thought it was funny and weird that he didn't even introduce those guys.

"There are times when I struggle with Microsoft Word," John added. "Which I probably shouldn't admit."

"I've been looking to add web development to my skillset as well," Tom said. "How did you learn this stuff?"

"I studied for a Masters in Computer Science at Plymouth Uni," she replied.

"Oh."

"But you don't need a degree to learn web development. I can give you some pointers some time."

"Yeah, please, I'd like that."

John moved into the office, prompting Tom to follow. He noticed Danielle checking him out in the corner of his eye.

'And this is George, Rufus and Phil,' said John, as they walked through the office. John cursorily explained their roles -- the same as Danielle's -- while Tom smiled, said hello, and was ushered away by John before they could have a chat.

Tom had been in the role for a few days, working on whatever briefs and tasks they threw at him, doing his best to prove that he was the right man for the job. He had spent his twenties trying to get into publishing after graduation, so writing wasn't a problem for him. It was the role and the environment that was alien to him.

Sitting at his desk that sunlit morning, he was writing on the Dell laptop, when a blonde woman in a charcoal blazer and matching pencil skirt sauntered into the office.

"Tom, are you busy right now?"

"Depends, what can I help you with?"

Sophia was one of the reporters. Something about her combination of formal business suit, slim waistline and big tits really caught his eye. It was as if those big breasts of hers were straining to burst out of her suit. He guessed that's why he liked sexy women in suits - the implied sexuality of their figures, hidden beneath the suit, caused his imagination to run wild.

Sophia leant forward over Tom's desk, allowing him a close-up view of her cleavage over her white top as she looked at his screen. He felt her hand on his shoulder.

"If you have time, could you research some facts about the local election? I have to run out to interview a few of the candidates."

"Sure, not a problem," said Tom. She flashed a smile at him. She had a great smile.

"Thanks Tom. You know we're having drinks at the end of the month, don't you?"

"Yeah, John told me. I'm coming. Are you?"

"Oh I'll be there. Make sure you are, too."

Tom's groin bulged under his desk.

Then he thought about Danielle. She seemed interested. And sleeping with her might be the only way to get any information out of her.

Pursuing two workplace relationships at the same time was way too risky. And if Danielle was going to be out of the picture soon, he would rather pursue Sophia. There was only one way to end this -- that was to get Danielle out of the way quickly and discreetly.

Later that morning, close to lunchtime, Tom saw Danielle walk through his part of the office into the kitchen. He walked in behind her a few minutes later, pretending to need a refill.

"Hey Tom," she smiled at him as she spooned some instant coffee into a mug, the kettle boiling.

They were the only two people in the small kitchen, that had a view over the other side of the building, across the town centre. A mass of grey post-war buildings were lit up in the sunlight.

"Hey, how's the work on the website going?" said Tom, as he looked for a mug in one of the cupboards.

"Great, we're ahead of schedule. I worked overtime fixing some of the bugs on the social media feed, but now that means we have more breathing room."

"Nice. Maybe you can show me...how it all works. If you have the time, of course."

"Come around and visit me after work. I clock off at five, I can show you a few things to get you started."

Five 'o clock came. Tom found Danielle sat at her desk, her rucksack packed beside her.

"Hey Tom, ready for your first lesson in web development?"

She spent the next half an hour showing Tom the back end of the website, the basic 101 level stuff. Tom listened with geniune interest -- he wanted to soak up as much knowledge as possible. He wanted to emerge as a competent employee, after eventually betraying Danielle.

"Are you doing anything tonight?" asked Danielle.

"Not really," replied Tom.

"I always go for a drink around North Hill on Friday evenings. Fancy joining me? It's Friday!"

"Okay, sounds good, what time?"

This was going easier than planned. Tom thought that he was going to be the one to ask this, but meeting her outside work would be a much better way to get the information he needed.

Seven o' clock that evening, Tom found himself walking through the City Centre towards the bars on North Hill, across from the University Campus. He wandered among the shoppers and families heading home through the deprived end of the city centre. Homeless people were starting to take their places in shop doorways, while teenagers gathered outside branches of KFC and McDonalds.

A tall sundial stood in the centre of a so-called "piazza" - which was basically the space between two large blocks of fifties architecture, now housing second-hand shops and department stores.

As Tom walked past, two young women caught his eye, seeming to make a beeline towards him.

The first woman had dark blonde hair, with lighter blonde highlights, going just past her shoulders. She wore a tight white blouse tucked into a short black skirt, opened down to her navel, revealing an impressively large cleavage. Her make-up was heavy -- mascara and blusher on her lightly-tanned skin.

Accompanying her was another young woman with an impressive cleavage, displayed over a very low cut top beneath a short leather jacket. This one was blonde, hair down past her shoulders, and she had gone even heavier on the make-up. She strode alongside her friend in heels, her toned legs almost completely revealed beneath a pair of tight denim shorts.

The first woman looked at Tom with wide eyes, while he obviously checked out her cleavage.

"Alright love?" she said. "Are you looking?"

Tom froze. Was he looking? Damn right he was.

"Sorry?"

"Are you looking?" she repeated. There was no anger in her voice. In fact, she was smiling. Her companion smirked, trying not to laugh.

"Oh! No, sorry. Thanks though."

"That's alright. Don't suppose you could spare us a quid, could ya?"

"Yeah, go on."

Tom fished around in his pocket and handed her a pound coin.

"Aw, thanks love," she smiled, as the two women turned and walked off. He noticed the blonde woman chuckling at him.

Tom entered the quiet bar. It had a vintage theme, decorated by retro shop signs and other paraphernalia: old drink and tobacco adverts alongside forties pin-ups.

Tom saw Danielle's silhouette wave him over from a small table in the corner, her big smile reflected in the neon purple glow of the bar lights.

As Tom walked over, he noticed that she wasn't wearing glasses. She was dressed similarly to how she was dressed in the office, but a little sexier. She still wore a black top, but it was low-cut, allowing a generous view of her pale cleavage in the neon bar light. As Tom walked over, he noticed that she wore black leather jeans with a studded belt.

"I thought you were going to stand me up," said Danielle.

"No, I just took too long leaving the house. Plus, I had a fun encounter on the way up here," said Tom.

Tom told Danielle about the prostitutes, his confusion at their lingo. A grin crept on Danielle's face.

"So you weren't tempted," she said.

"Oh, I was tempted. I just don't want to get herpes."

"Wise move. A lot of the streetwalkers around here are walking the streets for a reason. Nine times out of ten it's drugs. And they'll do anything to get their fix. Including unprotected sex. It's best to assume that none of them are clean."

"You seem to know a lot about the local streetwalkers," said Tom. "Personal experience?"

"Eh..." Danielle laughed nervously.

"Really? You were a prostitute?"

"I dabbled in sex work, just paying my way through Uni."

"Dabbled?"

"Okay, it was a real business, and I made real money. I was bloody good at it."

"Okay, cool. You didn't just walk the streets did you?"

"Fuck no. I was a proper escort, with returning clients. I started in my student digs, and eventually I was the only student who could afford to rent their own place with it's own business premises. It meant that I never had to work in a fucking call centre, or get up at 6am to stack shelves in a supermarket like my coursemates had to."

"That's pretty awesome," said Tom. "I had to work behind the bar in some dive nightclub. I hated it."

"Exactly. I knew there had to be better ways of making money."

"So how did you build up a base of clients? Was there much competition?"

"You had to have something different to offer, to stand out. And it helps if you stand out to the right people."

"You mean pimps?"

She laughed.

"I mean clients. Wealthy clients who are willing to pay more than some sleazy kerbcrawler. Even better, wealthy people who know other wealthy people."

Tom tried to hide his sudden interest.

"And how do you meet these wealthy clients?"

Danielle bit her lip and looked off into the distance, before meeting Tom's eyes again. Her voice became low.

"I would meet one guy. That guy would invite me to a party, where other wealthy men and high class escorts gather. And I would draw a lot of attention that way."

"What kind of parties are these?"

"I shouldn't be telling you this," said Danielle. "You would be amazed at the corruption going on among the rich and powerful in this town."

"I wouldn't, but tell me more."

"All of them -- big businessmen, local politicians, even the big players and academics at the Uni. They are all involved in something. A lot of prostitution, blackmarket businesses, covering for each other, that sort of thing."

If this was some drunk guy in a bar saying this, Tom would have just assumed that he was full of shit. But after his meeting with Celia, he was hanging on Danielle's every word.

"What is this, an Eyes Wide Shut situation?" he asked.

Danielle grinned.

"You're not far off. The parties took place in manor houses and nicer apartments around the city. The men and some women were there for a good time, while I was there touting for business. Sometimes I might show them a good time in one of the private rooms. Other times they would get my business card and would meet up later. It was like a networking event, but fun."

"Wow. So when did you quit?"

"Well," said Danielle, looking away, "I never did."

Tom's eyes widened.

"You're still moonlighting as a sex worker?"

"Why give up a good thing? I like my job, but if I can get paid even more to have fun in my spare time, why quit?"

"Fair enough," said Tom. "Do you still have the same clients from your student days?"

"Some of them stick around, yes. But I have a healthy roster of other clients. And I need you to be quiet about this, okay? I'm sure I don't need to tell you what would happen if you run your mouth off about this. I love my job, and I'm staying in it."

Tom leaned back, raising a hand.

"Oh, hey, I get it." Tom replied, "I'm very good at keeping my mouth shut. I think what you're doing is awesome. I'd do it myself if I thought I could make that much money from it."

"Okay, that's good. I need your discretion, okay? Not just for my sake, but for my clients as well. We work for a media company, remember? If this gets out, it could be disastrous."

"Of course. So who are these clients," said Tom, grinning, "I'm really curious now."

"That's classified."

"Okay, okay, what are you doing to keep them coming back? I'm curious to know what you do."

Danielle looked at him. He noticed her momentarily glance down at his hands. Or was it his arms? His chest?

"Why don't you come back to my place?" she asked. "I have a bottle of wine in the fridge, and I can show you all the props I use."

"Okay," said Tom. "I've never seen the inside of a proper sex worker's house."

An hour later, Tom found himself in a proper sex workers house. And it was no dingy bedsit. It was a nice semi-detached in one of the more affluent areas of the city.

Danielle led him straight into a lounge room with wood floors, a white couch in front of a plasma TV set, and a bar against the far wall. Tom noticed a collection of classic Hustler and Playboy magazines on the glass coffee table.

"Nice place," said Tom. "I see you put some effort into decorating."

"Got to keep this place looking good," said Danielle. "I take clients in here. It's important to make a good impression."

"Are those Hustler mags?"

"This room doubles up as a waiting room for clients, so I put magazines down. It's like a dentist's waiting room, but with porn."

"So, where do you take your clients?"

Danielle took him upstairs. Her bedroom was dominated by a walk-in closet on one side. The room was lit by a lampshade against a black wall, opposite a double bed against a grey wall. The king-size bed stood on a light grey rug on top of wood tiled flooring.

Danielle walked over to the walk-in closet.

"Here is where I keep my many costumes. Right here," Danielle rustled through the dresses on hangers and pulled out a flowing white robe, "is my Princess Leiah costume. I have the bikini somewhere too for the Jabba the Hut slave scene."

"How many of your customers have a Star Wars fetish?" He asked.

"You'd be surprised."

Danielle went back into her closet and pulled out a couple of sixties-inspired outfits -- one purple, the other orange.

"And these," she continued, "are Daphne and Velma from Scooby Doo."

Tom snorted.

"You're not short enough to be Velma," he commented. "And you're not ginger enough to be Daphne."

"I've got wigs. And they don't give a shit about my height."

She put them away and pulled out a long black dress, open down the front.

"Can you guess this one?" she asked.

"Morticia Adams?"

"Close. Elvira."

Tom's eyes lit up. He remembered jacking off to posters of Elvira when he was twelve.

"Elvira? You could definitely pull that one off."

"Shall I put it on?"

"Please. You should wear it the rest of the night."

She smiled.

"Wait downstairs in the lounge."

Tom sat in the lounge with a glass of wine, flicking through a copy of Hustler. So far, Danielle didn't seem to be in the mood to talk about corrupt business leaders. She hadn't even mentioned Celia yet. Pressing the issue now could blow it. He had to build more trust.

He also wanted so bad for her to wear that Elvira costume.

Sure enough, Danielle emerged in the lounge holding glass of wine, wearing a black fright wig, and the Elvira dress. Tom's heart leapt when he saw her her huge tits, pushed together through the extremely low cut of the dress, just like Elvira. He eventually noticed her smiling down at him.

"What do you think?"

"You look fantastic!"

"Thanks, sweetheart."

In his eyes, the hot woman hiding under the guise of the office tech nerd had come out her shell. She reclined next to him on the couch.