“Don’t worry,” he said with a big smile as his fingers continued to be a blur over the keyboard. “Once I find things, I go back doing open searches knowing what I am searching for. There may be a few things that won’t work for you, but you will know what they are and, when… if… you get access to their systems, you’ll know what to look for.”
* * * *
The call was supposed to come at 8:00 PM our time. The president wanted to call after the Executive floor had essentially cleared out. Time zones. Mr. C, to partially make up for it being such a long day, insisted on taking us to a nearby restaurant that had decent steaks and salads. When Mr. C, Ms. Benson, Patti, and I left the office, Miles insisted on staying behind. He insisted he was on the verge of coming to the end of a very juicy thread of information.
When we returned, we three women detoured to the dressing area to undress, again. Whatever Miles had been doing on the computer, he stopped, shifted his chair for a better angle, and leaned back to watch us as our clothes were removed. Mr. C broke his attention, though, with a bag from the restaurant containing a large steak burger and a pile of home fries. His metabolism must be crazy the way he can eat, no noticeable exercise, and to stay so skinny.
We exited the dressing area again in uniform: stockings and heels. Miles had cleared space at the end of his desk to eat where he chewed food but his eyes were still mostly focused on us. In my effort to open him up, I learned more about what made the young man tick. Young man. We were about the same age but his personality caused that feeling about him. What I had learned as his trust resulted in confiding in me was that he had been obsessed with the idea of having sex: masturbating about it and ultimately leading to him hacking a sexually explicit game to make it far more explicit and interactive. The game had become an alternative experience for him. When Tamara came along, she took a character with massive breasts and virtually naked except for wisps of gauzy material that did nothing to cover her. Their characters frequently left the battlefield against some evil warlord to retreat to some hidden location where their imaginations explored a wide variety of sexual positions. Tamara and he had shared an embarrassed laugh when they encountered each other in the real world: rather than the massive swaying breasts of her character, Tamara had pert B-cup breasts; and, rather than the massively muscled body of his character, Miles was instead a short, skinny man. To Tamara’s, and our, pleasure, though, the one constant was Miles’ cock.
What he brought with him from the game was a realization of being a voyeur. He was a student of different breasts and how they jiggled or bounced, especially with women in heels. Although trying for more discretion, he was fascinated by the different shapes and appearance of pussies: some inner lips protruded, some hidden; some slits were tucked low and others more visible.
I had to smile as we passed him on the way to our desks. I wondered if he had a file somewhere in that computer that compared the seven women he now worked with and, if so, just how explicit in detail it would be. Knowing the man as I was, I imagined such a file would be very explicit in detail and, after fucking us, was able to add even more detail. It could be creepy really, so it was something he and I kept to ourselves.
* * * *
The call would be coming to Ms. Benson’s office phone so we were meeting in her office and having a pre-call meeting of what we knew and how to proceed with the call. Miles reviewed his finding. He provided everyone with a file for their laptops or tablets containing the pertinent information. Everyone was careful not to ask him how he found some of the most sensitive information. As it turned out, our instincts proved correct. The reason for high turnover, loss of productivity, and decrease in quality seemed to be pointed directly at the Vice President of the group. The information we had was damning. Getting the proof legitimately would take access to their systems. We had enough information we could share that would point their president in that direction. How he would want to handle it was the question.
We agreed to have Ms. Benson lead the discussion with assistance from Miles and Patti as needed. Once the presentation and discussion were concluded, Mr. C would step in. A kind of president-to-president connection to reinforce going forward.
The call took an hour and a half. We could feel the tension coming through the phone. To think the man he had so recently hired was the cause seemed to weigh heavily on the man. But, ultimately, he confessed our preliminary investigation only seemed to validate what his worst feeling already was. To the man’s credit, he didn’t ask too many questions about how we found the information.
The call ended with the man asking Ms. Benson to send him a proposal so he could make hiring us formally. She promised he would have it in an email by noon, his time, the next day.
Mr. C high-fived Ms. Benson in his excitement. He turned to Miles, “I’m impressed.” Miles looked embarrassed but accepted a high five, too. We then adjourned to Mr. C’s office where he pulled an unopened bottle of Jack Daniels from the bottom drawer of his desk. He said we needed to celebrate but, given how late it was, if anyone needed to leave, they certainly could. No one left. I accepted a glass of bourbon, or Tennessee Whiskey if you’re fussy, kicked off my heels, and rested my stocking feet on his desk. Soon, Ms. Benson and Patti joined me. Three otherwise naked women kicking back after a long day with a stiff drink in the boss’s office.