Nurse Staci

Disclaimer: If you have delicate sensibilities then none of my stories are for you. I don't do soft romance and I don't mind treading on decency.

~No Apologies

**********

**********

A dozen pair of eyes tracked Elizabeth Branston as soon as she stepped off the elevator. She was known as The Barracuda of PCP—Phillips, Campbell & Parker Realty. Her slim, sexy stature was enhanced by a pair of trendy four-inch platform heels.

Tossing a luxurious lock of auburn hair over her shoulder, Elizabeth strolled across the room ignoring all in her wake. She signaled to her assistant and the man jumped to his feet and followed her into her office.

Closing the door behind him, he rushed over and placed a cup of coffee on the desk in front of her. Elizabeth sat in her posh executive chair, drumming her red painted nails as she waited expectantly.

"How's the coffee...did they get it right this time?" he inquired nervously.

"My dear darling moron," she pierced him with cold sharp eyes, "it is pathetic to blame someone else for your incompetence in handling a simple coffee order."

Colin Miller dropped his eyes to his feet. He had been working for Ms. Branston for just over a month and she had berated him for one thing or another each and every day. She was a frosty-hearted bitch and he loathed her as much as she despised him.

"Where is the file for the Brentwood estate? I told you to have it ready for me this morning."

"I'll get it," he mumbled and hurried to his cubicle to retrieve the file. It wasn't even ten in the morning and already she had him feeling like a bungling idiot.

Elizabeth Branston was the top real estate agent and one of the most valued employees in the firm...and she made sure everyone knew it. The partners doted on her and it showed in the bonuses she received—which were more than he could earn in a year.

Her clients adored her because she went above and beyond to get them the best deal possible. She was self-motivated, a brilliant problem solver, tenacious and engaging—when she chose to be. She was poised to make partner one day and Colin didn't doubt that it would happen before she reached thirty. She was only twenty-six.

He hated her. He really hated her. He didn't want to, but he did. It was like she looked for any tiny reason to humiliate him. And she didn't care where or when she did it.

He exhaled a frustrated sigh, raking his fingers through his hair. All-in-all, he considered himself lucky that she hadn't humiliated him outside of her office...this time.

*****

*****

Forgoing lunch at her favorite restaurant with a couple of colleagues, Elizabeth worked with singular focus throughout the day in an effort to complete the prep work necessary for her upcoming presentations to perspective clients on Monday. The presentations were important because the five listings she was determined to sell were well over a million dollars; lesser properties did not warrant her attention.

*****

Hours later, through her blinds she could see that the office was nearly dark. As usual, she was the last to leave for the night. There was a sound at her door before it was thrown open and Pricilla Parker sauntered in.

She was almost six feet tall with platinum blonde hair, a deep golden tan, and a curvaceous figure that commanded attention wherever she went. It didn't hurt that the thirty-two-year-old was rich to boot and one of the primary partners in the firm.

Elizabeth eyed her with calmly concealed anticipation.

"I see you're working late again," Pricilla said, looking at Elizabeth in that certain way that told her this wasn't just a friendly visit.

"I have the Feinstein and Eisenburgh presentations on Monday," Elizabeth replied deliberately as she indicated her laptop and files scattered across her desk.

The other woman stepped closer. "You know how much I truly appreciate your dedication and attention to detail, but I have a problem that only you can help me with."

Elizabeth watched with amused eyes as her boss turned, closed the blinds and locked the door. "Oh, I'm sure I'm not the only one who can help you," she bantered, huskiness suddenly in her voice.

"That's true, but you are the only one I want to help with my special problem," Pricilla bantered back moving the laptop and files off the desk.

Elizabeth smiled. They played this game often. She pushed her chair back and watched as the other woman sat on top of the desk and scooted herself back until she was able to put her feet on the edge—her red fuck me pumps still on and her panties nowhere in sight.

"What appears to be the problem?" Elizabeth asked with a knowing grin.

Pricilla opened her legs wider and Elizabeth stared at her pretty snatch. "My sad, lonely cunt misses you."

Elizabeth was turned on by the sight of this powerful woman sitting on her desk with her pussy glistening, demanding special attention. She smiled as she rolled her chair closer and began kissing the inside of her thighs. She spread Pricilla's swollen lips and attacked her cunt with a hunger that surprised even her. Her eager mouth covered her lover's slick hole as she rotated between nibbles and licks and plunging her agile tongue as deep as she could. Elizabeth ate her boss's pussy from top to bottom loving the way she purred and moaned and whimpered and pumped her needy cunt into her face begging for more.

She and Pricilla had enjoyed a secret relationship for the past six months. Elizabeth fucked Pricilla when Pricilla was horny, and Pricilla provided Elizabeth with some of the most influential clientele in the Bay area. Pricilla was the one who decided when and where they hooked up, which sometimes took place in Elizabeth's office, like now. Elizabeth didn't care, she liked eating Pricilla's pussy almost as much as she liked getting those leads. It was a good arrangement.

Elizabeth moaned, shoving three fingers deep into Pricilla's drooling pussy and stroking her with deliberate skill. She knew exactly how her boss liked to be fucked and she gave her what she wanted.

Pricilla tried to contain her moans as she gyrated on her lover's tantalizing fingers, but lost the battle a second later when Elizabeth went to work on her aching clit, sucking and nibbling on the throbbing nugget with great delight. Her entire body trembled and she tangled her hands in Elizabeth's hair urging her on.

The two women were totally absorbed in their pleasure. So much so, that neither were aware that they were no longer alone in the office.

It didn't take long to get Pricilla off—it usually didn't. Pricilla liked these rushed fuck sessions, and she seemed to only seek Elizabeth out when she was primed and in desperate need of a fix.

Minutes later, they adjusted their clothing and patted their hair back in place—looking prim as preachers' wives. Well, Elizabeth could pass for one, but no such claim could be said of the other woman.

Pricilla kissed her secret lover one last time and left her as she found her. Elizabeth went back to work surrounded by her laptop and files. She worked on her presentation for quite a while before finally deciding she had done enough—she was as ready as she could be. She packed up her laptop, grabbed her purse and headed for the stairwell.

Standing on the top step, she dug in her bag for her keys, when a sudden noise from the landing above startled her. She looked up reflexively, lost her balance and went tumbling down the steep stone stairs with an ear-piercing terrified scream.

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

*****WEEKS LATER*****

"Yes?" The red door was opened by an older woman wearing a black and white servant's uniform.

"Hello, I'm John Staci," a tall, quite handsome man introduced in his most charming voice as he offered his hand in greeting.

Although the housekeeper didn't shake his hand, she couldn't help returning his infectious smile. "You are the nurse sent from the Walsingham Agency?" she asked clearly surprised.

John's hand dropped back to his side. "Yes, ma'am I am."

"Can I please see your identification?" she asked boldly.

"Sure thing." John was not offended, was actually glad that she had the good sense to verify his identity. He handed her his driver's license, his work ID, and the agency's paperwork assigning him to Elizabeth Branston for in-house intensive care for a period of three weeks.

John stood patiently as the lady eyed him up and down, checked every piece of identification, and carefully read the paperwork. When she finished, she looked up at him and offered him her hand. "I'm Mrs. Anderson, the housekeeper. You're late." She waved him inside and escorted him to a small parlor accented in soft hues of pink, brown and blue. "I'll inform Ms. Branston of your arrival."

John stood near the door where she had left him. The housekeeper hadn't been gone for more than a few minutes when he looked out into the hall and saw her storming down the stairs mumbling angrily to herself. She didn't even look his way as she jerked open the front door and walked out, the door slamming shut behind her.

He looked at the door for a stunned few seconds before his gaze swung back up the stairs and towards the sound of breaking glass. Without a second thought, John took the curved stairs two at a time. When he got to the upper floor he turned left and followed the sound of more shattering glass.

Elizabeth Branston was in the process of hurling a small crystal vase. She paused in surprise. "Who the hell are you?!" she demanded, aiming the missile at the intruder as she tried to balance herself.

"Whoa." John threw up his hands in a feigned gesture of surrender. "I'm John Staci," he stated, eyeing her pink nightgown and the casts on each of her legs. They were both pink and covered her foot and up to just below her knees; her cute little toes were painted a pale glossy pink. She looked absolutely delicious.

"I don't give a damn who you are, what the fuck are you doing in my house?!"

"I'm from the Walsingham Agency, I have been assign—"

She cut him off rudely, "You are not the nurse I ordered!" she shrieked disbelievingly, clutching the back of a stylish striped slipper chair with one hand and the vase with the other.

Smiling, John shook his head. "I'm Nurse Staci—"

She interrupted him again. "But you're a man." Her aqua-colored eyes traced his tall sculpted frame—from the top of his head, down his long muscular limbs, to his extraordinarily big feet. She met his smiling, roguish gaze.

"Yes, I am. But I assure you I'm also a certified licensed nurse. Mrs. Anderson checked my credentials," he said holding the papers out to her. "You know, you really shouldn't be on your feet," John observed, eyeing her sheer knee-length nightgown that did very little to hide her dark areolas and the thatch of hair covering her mons. Apparently, in her angry tantrum she had forgotten how very little she was wearing.

Elizabeth Branston was taller than John usually preferred his women, but he could easily imagine those long, lithe legs wrapped tightly around his waist. A shiver raced up his spine and he had to give himself a mental shake in an effort to control the heat rising in his loins. "I was told that you have another two weeks or so before you should be putting that kind of pressure on your mending bones." Just as he said the last words Elizabeth's knees buckled and she collapsed. "I've got you." He swept her up into his arms cradling her against his hard chest.

Elizabeth was keenly aware of his strength and the long firm fingers just under her right breast. She was considered tall for a woman and she relished looking down at any male she came into contact with. She used her above average height to intimate and control. But this man was tall himself; in fact, she was certain he topped her five-ten by at least eight inches. In the stranger's arms, Elizabeth felt small, soft and so very feminine. The unfamiliar feelings caused her heartbeat to accelerate and she lashed out in confusion. "Take your hands off me!" she shrieked—and then, suddenly she found herself suddenly unceremoniously dumped on the bed. Sputtering furiously, she pointed a stiff finger towards the door and shouted, "You fucking caveman, I want you out of my house!"

John stared at her as if he was studying a puzzle. "Get out!" she screamed again when he continued to stand there like a simpleton. Elizabeth trembled in fury, she had never been treated so discourteously before in her life. First, her ingrate of a housekeeper deserted her—as if her cow of a daughter couldn't take care of a newborn by herself—and now the agency had sent her a fucking man! A rude brute at that!"

John was unfazed. From inside his jacket pocket he pulled out what appeared to be an iPad. She glared at him as if he had lost his mind. "What the hell are you doing, you moron...I said I want you out! Now! Before I call the police!"

That seemed to get his attention. His nonchalant expression quickly turned into a hard, threatening look. "You might not want to do that until you see this," he warned menacingly as he held out the iPad where she could see the seven-inch screen.

Just as Elizabeth was about to knock his hand away, John tapped a key and instantly a video started playing. Elizabeth gasped in shock. She was watching herself sitting at her desk with her face buried between Pricilla Parker's legs! Eyes as big as saucers, her hands flew to her mouth stifling a horrified scream. She grabbed for the iPad, but John easily moved it out of reach.

Elizabeth turned her head away. "Turn it off," she begged in a hushed, strangled voice.

He didn't turn it off. Instead he moved to sit at the foot of her bed. "Hot. Do you suck a dick as well as you eat pussy?" he inquired casually.

"Fuck you, you bastard! Where did you get that?!" Her voice shook. John met her blazing blue eyes with more than a touch of interest in his hard copper gaze. "Every time I watch this video, I become more jealous." He looked from her back to the sexually explicit action on the iPad and then turned the volume up. Pricilla's moans were loud in the stark silence.

"Who are you?" She demanded quietly, afraid, and they both knew it.

"As we've already established, I am John Staci," he answered as he turned the device off and stashed it back into his pocket.

"Are you from the Walsingham Agency?" Elizabeth asked warily, her heart beating an ever increasing cacophony in her ears.

"Maybe," he answered evasively.

"Are you even a nurse?"

"Perhaps I am, perhaps I'm not. Does it really matter at this point?"

"How did you get that?" She kept her eyes on his.

"I snuck into your office and filmed it."

"Why?"

"Apparently, you have an enemy," he replied shrugging off-handedly.

"Who?" she demanded, staring in shocked disbelieve.

"That's for me to know and you to worry about."

Elizabeth couldn't take it in. Someone hated her enough to hire this brute to catch her in a compromising position with the single-minded intention of destroying her. 'Who has done this to me?!' she thought frantically as images of hostile co-workers flashed through her mind. It could be anyone!

Her gaze clashed with the stranger's and like a slowly but surely rising dawn sudden realization hit her and her eyes rounded. "You were on the upper landing in the stairwell!"

"Yes," he readily admitted, "I dropped my cell. As I went to pick it up I heard you fall, so I doubled back. When I saw that you were hurt and unconscious I called an ambulance."

"I'll double whatever you've been paid." Elizabeth reasoned that the man—although a reprehensible fiend—must have some redeemable qualities if he hadn't just left her in that stairwell.

She began to panic when he shook his head. "No, really...Name your price, I'll meet it! You don't even have to tell me who hired you. You could tell them you didn't get anything."

"I could do that."

Elizabeth closed her eyes and slumped with relief.

"But, I won't..." His voice was no longer mocking. He was once again ominously callous. "Not without a bit of enticement."

Ice blue eyes narrowed and she glowered, wishing vehemently that she knew a way to get rid of him and the mortifying video. If she had a gun, she honestly believed she would shoot him right then and there! "What do you want?" she finally asked, her throat clogged with bitter frustrated tears fighting to get out.

He stared back, his gaze hard with lust. "I want to fuck you."

"She blinked. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me. I want to fuck you. And not just once. You'll double what I'm being paid and you'll spread your beautiful legs for me whenever, wherever and however I want you to."

"No," she said resolutely, but her voice quavered. "I'll have you arrested for blackmail."

"We both know you won't. You wouldn't want everyone knowing you're into women. Worse, you wouldn't want your colleagues finding out you're banging your boss right there in the home office and that's how you get those prime leads." He quirked a heavy brow. "There's no way you're willing to expose yourself or your high and mighty family to the scandal it will cause."

Elizabeth's mind worked furiously. She thought about the ramifications of the video getting out. What it would do to her family. Her personal reputation. Her parents would not support her...they would blame her for embarrassing the family with her immoral ways. And her colleagues... A few would be lenient, but all would revel in her downfall.

John got to his feet. "Tell you what...I'm going to give you some time to think on this." For a brief few seconds she had totally forgotten his presence. "What would you like for dinner?" he asked as he walked to the doorway.

For the first time she noticed that night had fallen. Her shoulders stiffened. How can he think of food when her whole world is being turned upside down? She shifted her disdainful gaze to the window, not deigning to respond.

He shrugged. "Let's take temptation out of your way so that you don't make a really regrettable mistake." John casually confiscated her cell and landline phone before walking to the door. Elizabeth sat fuming, glaring at his retreating back.

John whistled as he rummaged around the sleek professionally designed kitchen searching through cabinets, drawers and the well-stocked frig taking out everything he needed. Although he was no culinary pro, he could prepare simple meals with ease; and it didn't take long before he was satisfied with what he had created. He placed napkins, utensils, the grill-cheese sandwiches, two bowls of tomato soup, and their drinks on a cherry-wood bed tray that he had found in the kitchen pantry and headed back upstairs.

Elizabeth was in deep thought and did not hear John approach. She jumped when he entered her bedroom and quickly fastened the sash of her robe.

John hid a smile. So, she had finally realized that she needed a bit of protection from his prying eyes. Too little, too late. It would take more than a length of material to keep him from taking what he wanted.

Because her legs were elevated on long, narrow, wedge pillows—one for each leg—he sat the tray on the nightstand and sat on the edge of the bed as he had before.

"Do you have to sit so close?" she mumbled clearly annoyed with his proximity.

"I don't have to," he replied with false kindness. "But I want to; in case I should have a desire to do this..." He reached out and laid a big, warm hand on her breast through her robe and nightgown, squeezing the swelling tip between firm fingers.

She slapped his face.

He retaliated with a slap of his own. Not a hard one, but a smack delivered with enough force to establish his willingness to mete out a bit of pain if necessary. He was no gentleman.

Elizabeth gasped, cradling her smarting cheek in shock; she had never in her life been struck before. This was quickly turning into a night of ugly, unpleasant firsts.