The Devil's Work

By M. Luc LaForce

Allie didn't know why she was like this. At first she had tried to tell herself what she'd been taught in Sex Ed: that masturbation was OK and that everyone did it, that it was natural to explore your own body, but deep down she knew her appetite for pleasure was unnaturally voracious. By twenty-four, you'd think she'd have discovered all there was to find on her trim runner's physique and gotten bored, having explored every curve of her silken skin for almost a decade, but Allie had the wanderlust of a Columbus—always seeking new and more pleasurable horizons.

Unfortunately, her desire to touch from sea to shining sea was so overwhelming that it had led to some pretty embarrassing situations, which in turn led to her being plagued by guilt. She was miserable and frustrated on the best of days. She hated herself on the worst, her mind spinning with the cruel taunts she'd endured in high school after she had been caught masturbating in the locker room. Her college roommate's horrified screams when she had caught her borrowing her vibrator still rang in Allie's ears when she closed her eyes. She had tried psychotherapy only to be turned away by her analyst after one of his missing Cross pens fell from between her legs when she uncrossed them.

Transference, he had said. Or something like that.

When she closed her eyes at night, there was still only one thing she wanted to do. It wasn't sleep. But even in the privacy of her own apartment, behind a bedroom door that had no need of being locked, in a place where she was free to pleasure herself, she could no longer enjoy it. And whenever she was with a man—which wasn't as often as it could've been with looks like hers—well... she'd discovered that most men her age were still boys. Those who weren't of the "wham bam thank you ma'am" variety made her too nervous with their constant need for reassurance. If she had a dime for every time her last boyfriend had ruined the moment by asking "did you come yet?" she wouldn't have needed to take a job.

She was glad for her work at the firm, though. Not only did it pay well for part-time, I'm-still-finishing-my-Bachelor's-Degree-type labor, but the law office of Williams, Williams and Lowe was always busy. The work kept her mind occupied and her hands too busy during the day to become idle and seek to "do the Devil's work."

The file could've waited until tomorrow. She could have left it on his desk, gone home, watched whatever reality TV show was on, and then frantically and fruitlessly masturbated to fantasies of her office crush as she had done practically every night since she first saw him. Instead, she pulled up to the curb in front of Mr. Lowe's stately Tudor home, put her aging Civic in park, and sighed.

Even the Devil himself would've given up on making her come by now, and she knew she was tempting her demons by making this delivery in person. John Lowe, Jr., the youngest partner at the firm, was a very beguiling devil indeed, one who sparked her wicked urges with the slightest glance of his piercing green eyes. The office rumors about him didn't make things any easier. Word around the water cooler was that he was into some pretty strange stuff.

One thing Allie thought was strange was the fact that he made a six-figure salary and didn't hire someone to mow his lawn for him. There he was, this curiosity of a man, bare-chested and sweating with grass clippings clinging to his ankles. His green eyes flashed in the August sunlight when they caught sight of her coming up his driveway and a dazzling smile came to his full lips. As the mower died, the sounds of cicadas wound up to match the growing thrum in her loins.

"Good afternoon, Allison," he said in his soft baritone, an almost imperceptible twang revealing the Mississippi roots he'd left behind in favor of an ocean breeze. "You didn't have to come all the way out here. Did those assholes not give you my personal fax number? The Donalds get a kick out of being cruel to new hires."

Allison chirped a little laugh. "No, sir, I mean they gave me your fax number, sir, but I know how important this case is." Allie blushed as she held the thick manila envelope out to him. She prayed that he'd think it was simply the heat bringing the color to her face. "I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep tonight unless I put this in your hand myself."

"Well, we wouldn't want that," John said. His fingers brushed against hers as he took the envelope. "With how hard we work you and your classes, I'm amazed you're still on your feet. How many hours you taking this semester?"

Allison thumbed the moisture on her finger. His sweat, she thought. She began to feel moist elsewhere at the thought of rubbing that sweat in someplace other than on her thumb.

"Eighteen," she said. "But they're pretty easy."

"Maybe pretty easy for a girl like you," John replied with a smile which was more than just a touch on the wolfish side. He wiped sweat from his brow with his free hand. "Sure is hot out here."

Oh yeah, she thought. He's totally flirting with me. That much of the rumor is true. I wonder about the rest...

"You thirsty?" He asked.

Allison hadn't been, but her mouth suddenly went dry. "A bit."

"My housekeeper makes the best lemonade," John said. "It would be a crime to let you leave without having a glass on such a hot day."

She couldn't let this happen. This was a good job. Might even turn into a career once school was over. She shook her head. "I've got some studying to do for my Legal Ethics class tonight."

"At the U?" John cocked his head. "You enjoying the class?"

Allison frowned. "It's kinda dull."

John smirked. "You know I helped write the curriculum for it, right?"

Allison's eyes widened. "Err... no."

"Don't worry. I wrote the fun parts," John said. He chuckled. "I promise I was just as bored writing it as you are learning it. You wanna know everything you really need to know? The one practical thing Dr. Harding will never tell you about legal ethics?"

Allison nodded.

"In order to be able to sleep at night, a lawyer's ethics must be flexible."

"How about yours?" Allison chuckled, then realized what she had said. "I mean... would you ever tell a class that?"

John's smile widened. "Tell you what. Why don't you come inside? Have a glass of ice cold lemonade, and I'll teach you all you need to know."

OK, Allison, she thought. Sure he's a notorious flirt and GOD is he hot, but can you seriously turn down an offer to be tutored by a man who made partner at thirty?

"Well, I suppose that'd be OK," she said.

"Great," John said. "I was hoping you'd opt to come into the air-conditioning. This heat is about to kill me."

Allison followed him to his front door. He opened it and held it for her. When the refrigerated air hit his glistening chest, John's nipples jumped to attention. He sighed.

"Ah... air-conditioning. The pinnacle achievement of Western civilization," John said as he strolled through the house toward the kitchen. "This way."

Allison followed, surprised at her own lack of hesitance. When they reached the kitchen, John pointed to a cupboard. "Glasses are up there. Lemonade's in the fridge. I'd get it for you myself, but as you can see..." He raised his hands, showing their filthy state. "Pour us each a glass. I'm gonna hop in the shower and get some of this dirt and grass off of me."

Allison nodded and John disappeared from the room. She was thirsty, so she helped herself to the lemonade. John wasn't lying. It was indeed the best she'd ever had. She poured herself another glass, poured one for John, and walked back to the living room. She sat on his sofa, the brown leather cool against her tan legs.

She surveyed the room, which was pretty much exactly what she thought a lawyer's living room would look like: giant flat screen TV, shelves of old books and golfing trophies, and leather. Lots and lots of leather. She was running her palm across the couch, wondering how much it cost when she heard the shower cut on.

The thought of John, naked and steaming from a hot shower, immediately changed her thoughts about the sofa from how much it cost to how the leather would feel against her nipples if John bent her over and fucked her on it. Before she even realized she was doing it, Allison had placed her hand between her legs and had begun to massage herself.

What the fuck are you doing, Allison? She thought. This can't happen. You NEED this job! You can't be here when he gets out of the shower. Get up. Go. Now!

Allison practically vaulted from the couch. She turned to leave, but then how would it look if she was just gone when John came back? She'd have to let him know she was going. It would be rude to just leave. Summoning all her willpower, she headed down the hall toward the sound of running water.

"Mr. Lowe?" she shouted. "I forgot I'm meeting a friend for dinner tonight. I have to go. Thanks for the lemonade. It was delicious!"

She could barely hear John's response. "What? I can't hear you. I'll be out in a minute."

Allison ventured closer. She turned the corner and saw that the bathroom door stood open. John stood behind a frosted glass shower door lathering his body with soap, his back turned toward her. Even obscured by the glass, the sight of his trim, well-muscled figure was more than she could take. Allison pressed herself against the wall and squeezed her eyes shut.

Don't do this, Allison!

She opened her eyes and leaned forward, peering around the doorjamb. She couldn't take it anymore. Lifting her skirt with her left hand, she placed her right between her thighs and found her panties were already soaked. She gently pulled them aside and then rubbed her clitoris, making slow, tingling circles.

John chuckled, which made Allison jump. She quickly smoothed her skirt down.

"I said I have to go I'm meeting someone for dinner," Allison blurted and began to turn.

"I thought only guys liked to watch," John said and then turned off the water.

Allison stopped, frozen in her tracks. Her heart pounded in her chest. She turned back around. "What?"

"Most voyeurs are men." John wrapped a towel around his waist, opened the shower door and stepped out. "So unless that's a cock you were playing with, you come from a different mold."

Fuck! Allison thought. Well, I guess that's that. So long potential career.

She lowered her eyes, ashamed. "I'm sorry, sir. Please don't fire me."

"Fire you?" John laughed. "Do you think you're the first temp I've made wet? Honey, you've got a lot to learn about the way the world works."

She looked up at him. "You're not going to fire me?"

"Well, that depends," John said, the subtle twang returning to his voice. "You come?"

Allison blushed. "No."

"Then you're fired," John said and then smirked. He dropped his towel. "Unless you think you can manage to do it in the next five minutes. I'm a busy man."

Allison looked at his manhood which was already beginning to swell and her body flooded with warmth again. She reached for the hem of her skirt but then stopped and shook her head. "I can't."

"I was kidding about firing you," John said. He dropped his eyes and picked up his towel. "Sorry to disappoint."

"No, sir. It's not you. It's me. Something's... I..." She began to tear up. "I'm broken."

John began to dry himself off. "No, you're not."

"But I-"

"You've come before, right?" John wrapped the towel around his waist and then fixed her with an icy stare.

"Yes, sir," she said. "I just can't anymore. It doesn't work. I get close, but..."

"But something always happens. You feel wrong. You feel guilty," John said. "You feel dirty."

Allison closed her eyes and nodded.

"And no matter what anyone tells you, you still know that it's wrong." John continued to stare at her as he moved closer. "Even if that someone is me, right?"

"Yes."

John stopped right in front of her. "Do you trust me, Allison?"

"Sure," she said, cocking her head to one side slightly.

John shook his head. "Do you really trust me? I want to try something and it won't work if you don't."

John smiled gently. He stroked her face. "Everything will be alright. I promise."

Allison looked into his deep green eyes. There wasn't a trace of malice behind them. If anything, he looked concerned. Maybe even a little afraid.

"OK," Allison said.

It was like flicking a switch. John's smile didn't fade. It simply flashed off. "So you actually think you know more than me, huh?"

"What?"

"That when I tell you that I know you can come, you still think I'm wrong. How arrogant," John said through clenched teeth. "You think you know everything, don't you?"

She couldn't meet his gaze. "No."

He grabbed her hair in his left hand and pulled her head back. "Arrogant and disrespectful."

Allison drew a sharp breath. "I don't mean any-"

"Then when you answer me, you say 'yes, sir,'" John said, his breath hot on her cheek. "Understand?"

"Yes... sir."

Allison shuddered. It was as if saying those two simple words made everything OK. She was amazed at how easily they came out, at how much she wanted them to come out. Her breathing became heavy as he gently stroked her cheek. His hand slithered down her neck to her breast and he began to thumb her erect nipple through her blouse.

"It's time you admitted something to yourself, Allie," John said. "Something you've been ashamed of your entire life. Something you've been told was wrong... Look at me."

She glanced up at him, but couldn't hold his gaze. He jerked her hair hard. Allison yelped and then opened her eyes, gazing into those green orbs of his.

"Allison Sherrard," John said, "you are a dirty... fucking... whore."

She sighed and closed her eyes. John jerked her hair again. "Say it!"

"I'm... I'm a dirty whore," she said, and then something unexpected happened. She smiled.

"You left out the part about what whores do," he said. "They fuck. Say 'I'm a dirty fucking whore."

"I'm a dirty fucking whore," she said, then quickly added, "sir."

"Very, very good," John said. Her roughly hiked her skirt up and cupped her swollen crotch. "See? You're so wet you're about to drip on my nice clean floor. Open your mouth."

Allison let her eyes close as he gently inserted two moist fingers into her mouth. Instinctively, she began to suck, tasting herself on his fingers. "Mmm..."

"Good?" John smiled. Allison responded by sucking harder. She grabbed his hand and tried to thrust the fingers further into her mouth. She felt John let go of her hair.

SMACK!

Allison yelped. She could already feel the color creeping into her skin where John had struck her thigh.

"Do you think you're in charge here or something?" John asked, returning his fist to her hair. "If so, you are dead wrong. When you're in charge, you fuck things up. You can't even manage to make yourself come! You do what I say, when I say... and nothing more. Understand?"

"Yes sir."

"On your knees, whore," John said and forced her to the ground. Taking his towel in one hand and the blonde hair of his prize in the other, he began to walk. Allison crawled obediently beside him into the living room. When they reached the leather couch, he sat down and sank into it. She began to crawl into his lap and was immediately rewarded with a sharp slap across her buttocks.

"Do you think I want that wet whore cunt on my Italian leather sofa?" John pushed her back to her knees and then forced her face to the floor. "That wasn't a rhetorical question."

"No," Allison said, her lip beginning to quiver.

John smacked her buttocks again. "What?"

"No, sir. Sorry, sir."

"You're quite the insolent one. It's time someone taught you some manners," John said. He stood behind her, reached down, unzipped her skirt and pulled it and her panties down around her knees. "Wait here."

"Yes, sir," Allison said breathlessly.

As John left the room, Allison kicked off her skirt and panties then immediately began to rub her clit, hard and fast.

My God! She thought. This is what I've needed. I am sooooo close. Please let me come!

Though she rubbed furiously, she was unable to bring herself to climax. She was still trying when John returned.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" John shouted.

Allison looked up. Her lips moved but no words would come out. "I- I-"

"You think you're the boss again, don't you?" John said as he loomed over her. He let his belt unfurl from his hand and waved it in front of Allison's wide eyes. "It's time you learned who the boss really is. Get your face back on that floor now!"

Allison complied, trembling with both fear and desire.

"Grab your ankles, sweetie," John said, almost lovingly.

A puzzled look crossed Allison's face, but when the first blow landed, she understood. She was going to have to hang on to something to make it through this.

John swung the belt and it slapped against her buttocks with a startlingly loud report. Allison cried out, her voice sounding like the chirp of a strange bird. He swung again and again, raining down blows on her backside until it felt like she was on fire. Just when she thought she couldn't take anymore, he stopped.

"Learned your lesson?"

Tears streamed down Allison's face. "I've learned, sir! I've learned!"

"Good," he said as he knelt beside her. "Do you like my belt, Allison?"

"No, sir," she said and meant it.

"It can be painful, yes," he said, "but it can bring pleasure, too."

Draping the belt between Allison's legs, John grabbed it at both ends and pulled it tight across her crotch. "Go ahead," he said. "You've earned a little reward."

The feel of the leather strap tight across her pussy was unbelievable. She squeezed her eyes shut in ecstasy and rocked her hips up and down, feeling the belt rub against her clitoris, becoming hotter than she'd ever felt before. Just as she was about to come, John snatched the belt away. Allison mewled like a wounded animal.

"Poor thing," John said as he gently lifted her head from the floor and brought her back into a kneeling position. He flopped onto the couch beside where she knelt. "You've been very good, but you haven't quite earned it yet."

When Allison opened her eyes, she saw that John's towel had slipped to the floor. His cock was fully engorged, bright red, and throbbing with desire.

"I'm not going to fuck you, if that's what you're wanting," John said. "I don't do condoms and I sincerely doubt you're on the pill. Are you?"

When she began to shake her head no, John took her face between both palms and stopped her.

"I thought not, but that's OK. You couldn't have known, so I'm not going to punish you," he said, then began guiding her face toward his massive erection. "You seemed to want to suck on things earlier. Now would be the time for that."

Allison didn't have to be told twice. She eagerly leaned forward and took his throbbing cock into her mouth, the salty taste of his sweat and pre-ejaculate making her shiver. She took his cock as far as she could into the back of her throat, making herself gag a little, then using her saliva as lubricant, she grabbed his cock with her left hand and began to gently twist as she sucked.

"Oh my GOD!" John shuddered. "You're very good at that, Allie."

Allison, remembering her manners, stopped long enough to thank him—"Thank you, sir"—and then plunged her mouth back over his cock. Continuing to suck and stroke him with her left hand, she moved her right to her clitoris. John was so busy enjoying her handiwork that he didn't even seem to notice when Allison began to moan, too, but try as she may, she could not bring herself to come, even when he exploded into her mouth.