The Deal Maker chapter 9

 The Deal Maker

Chapter 9

She didn't shy away, didn't hesitate. She knew about my past and yet she gave herself to me completely, and I loved it.

She moaned into my mouth, her fingers tangling in my hair as I backed her against the glass wall of the elevator. My hands roamed over her lovely breasts, exploring every curve of her body, every inch of skin I could reach. She gasped as my lips trailed down her neck, leaving a trail of kisses in their wake while she wiggled her cast between my legs.

"Oh god" she whispered, her voice trembling, and I could feel her heart racing just as fast as mine.

I didn't stop. My hands slipped under her dress, my fingers grazing the soft skin of her thighs at the top of her red cast before finding the edge of her lace thong. She shuddered, her body arching into mine as I slid my hand beneath the fabric, my fingers brushing against her vagina. She was so wet, so ready for me, and it drove me wild.

"Let me make you feel good," I murmured against her ear, my voice rough with desire.

Her head fell back against the glass as I touched her. My fingers moved slowly at first in and out of her, until she was gasping, her nails digging into my shoulders. I quickened my pace, feeling her body tense, her breaths growing shallow as she neared the edge of a first orgasm.

She moaned again, her voice breaking as she came undone, her body trembling against mine. I held her close with 2 fingers deep inside her, my lips pressing soft kisses to her neck as she rode out the waves of her pleasure.

When she finally stopped, her eyes fluttered open, and she looked up at me, her gaze filled with a mix of love and something deeper, something raw and real. "We need to talk," she whispered, her voice soft but steady.

"Talking is overrated," I replied, brushing a strand of hair from her face. My heart swelled with emotion, and for a moment, it was just us, no past, no elevator, no world outside, just Claire and me. I picked up her crutches, handing them to her as I reset the elevator. She stood, leaning lightly on them, her cheeks still flushed, her lips curved into that knowing smile.

"You're going to make navigating this office a lot harder," she teased, her eyes sparkling.

"I'll be there to help if you fall and break your other leg," I said, grinning.

The doors slid open, and we stepped out into the hallway, her crutches clicking softly against the polished floor. I kept close beside her, my hand resting lightly on her ass teasing her. She glanced at me, her smile warm, and I knew no matter what, I'd always be there for her. But... she was mine.

I couldn't take my eyes off her.

The way Claire moved on those crutches, yes she was graceful, controlled, but also dripping with raw sensuality that was impossible to ignore. My obsession with her, with the contrast of pure sexual attractions and legal danger she embodied, was becoming harder to contain. The way her red cast peeked through the slit of her dress, the way her hips swayed ever so slightly as she crutched forward, was driving me insane.

She had to know.

She paused, glancing over her shoulder with that teasing smile. "You're staring...again" she said.

"Well miss Claire wearing a black dress like yours makes it impossible not to."

Claire turned fully toward me, crossed her leg and cast adjusting on her crutches, her weight shifting. With one hand she made the dress slip slightly off her shoulder, revealing just a little more skin and lovely breasts, just enough to know it was totally intentional.

"Is that so? It's not because of my sexy red cast? Or my tight ass? Or My lovely breasts begging to be kissed and licked? hummm" she murmured, licking her lips.

I stepped closer, drawn in, I could smell her perfume now, something light but intoxicating, something that made my pulse quicken.

"You so fascinate me miss," I admitted, my voice rougher than I intended.

Claire tilted her head, her gaze sharp, calculating. "I wonder sir," she mused, her tone almost mocking, "do you like me, or is it the cast that turns you on?"

My breath caught. She was playing with me. Testing me. Pushing just enough to see how far I'd let her go. I took another step, closing the last bit of space between us. Her crutches barely kept us apart.

"Both," I murmured, reaching out to trail my fingers along the edge of her cast. The texture of it under my touch sent a thrill through me. "But right now? I can't tell where one obsession ends and the other begins."

She was sure she had all the power in this moment. And yet, I knew the possibilities. Claire could be a plant from a competitor, someone sent to get close to me for all the wrong reasons or worse an undercover agent.

But none of it mattered. Because right now? I wanted her so bad.

Later on that same night after everybody left at the office and I was in a meeting, Claire sat at her desk, gazing at the modern office space around her. Her right leg in the red cast was resting on a spare chair beside her.

Her phone buzzed with a message from me. "Missing you already," it read. She smiled, her fingers tracing the screen as she replied, "I have a surprise for you, are you alone?"

"No I'm in the meeting"

Standing up with the aid of her crutches, she moved around the room. Setting her phone on a small stand, she took a deep breath, a mix of excitement and nervousness coursed through her. This had to be perfect.

"Alright, let's do this," she whispered to herself, opening the camera app. Striking a pose, leg and long cast slightly crossed, one hand on her hip, and the other on one crutch, she tilted her head with a lovely smile.

After snapping the picture, she checked it immediately. It was ok, a bit suggestive. She sent it to me with the caption, "Empowered and broken limb. Missing you, boss."

His response was swift, "Fuck, you're hot. I wish I could be there to show you just how much I miss you and that cast of yours."

"Like what you see in this black dress?"

"I'd love to tear it off you this instant."

She nibbled on her lip, feeling her pulse quicken at his words. "Boss, isn't that crossing a line? I could sue you. But for now, enjoy these selfies instead."

She snapped another picture but this time she...

The Deal Maker
Chapter 10 to comer
K

The Deal Maker chapter 8

 The Deal Maker

Chapter 8

A soft knock at the door broke her focus.

"Come in, Vanessa."

Detective Vanessa Price stepped inside, her piercing gaze sweeping over Claire from head to toe. The air between them was thick, the same unspoken sexual tension that had always lingered whenever they were alone. Vanessa's dark blazer was unbuttoned, her crisp white blouse slightly undone at the top, just enough to hint at something underneath. Her eyes lingered on Claire's cast before slowly drifting up her body.

"You clean up well, that black dress is amazing" Vanessa murmured, crossing her arms as she leaned against the wall. "But I have to ask... are you sure you're up for this? That's a very dangerous man."

Claire arched a perfectly shaped brow, gripping her crutches with deliberate poise. "Since when do you worry about your undercover cops?" she countered, tilting her chin slightly.

Vanessa chuckled, stepping closer, close enough that Claire could catch the faint scent of her perfume, something warm, with a hint of spice.

"Fair point, but I can't help but wonder... What's the real play here?"

Claire shifted her weight, the movement accentuating the way her dress clung to her hips.

"You think I'm plotting something?"

Vanessa smiled. "I know you are." She reached out, fingertips just barely grazing the edge of Claire's cast. "Red suits you."

For a moment, Claire didn't move. The way Vanessa was looking at her, the way her breath ghosted over her skin, sent a familiar shiver down her spine. But she had a job to do. She straightened, breaking the moment, and adjusted the strap of her backpack.

"I have a meeting," she said, a teasing lilt in her voice as she crutched past Vanessa, deliberately brushing against her. "Try to behave yourself, Detective."

Vanessa chuckled, watching her go, her gaze lingering on Claire's swaying hips and the rhythmic click of her crutches against the polished floor.

"Oh, Boss, where's the fun in behaving?"

She was so sexy in that dress, the subtle sway of her hips, the gentle slope of her shoulders, and the tantalizing swell of her breasts and the way the fabric hugged her waist The deep red of her cast stood out vividly against the dark material, turning heads with every rhythmic click of her crutches on the pavement. As she approached the waiting car, she caught the Uber driver's gaze lingering, deep blue eyes and unabashedly curious.

The driver, a young woman with a messy ponytail and dark eyeliner, scrambled out of the car.

"Hey, let me help you," she said, a little breathless as she quickly reached for Claire's crutches the moment she settled into the seat.

Claire smirked, shifting her long leg cast slightly, making sure to be in full view for the cute driver. She caught the way the girl's eyes flickered down, hesitating just a second too long before awkwardly clearing her throat and shutting the door behind her.

As they pulled onto the road, the driver kept sneaking glances at the red cast. Finally, she couldn't help herself. "Sorry, I don't mean to stare. It's just, I had a girlfriend in high school who broke her leg during spring break. Full leg cast, too. But hers was pink. It brings memories"

Claire raised a brow, intrigued. "Pink, huh? I bet she was very cute."

The driver chuckled. "Yeah, she thought so too. At first. But after a few weeks of hobbling around on her crutches, I don't think she found it so much fun." She glanced at Claire through the rear view mirror. "What about you? What happened?"

Claire's lips curled into a smile, her tongue licking them, as she shifted ever so subtly in her seat. "I don't have any wild spring break tales to share, sadly. Just a little mishap."

They were at a red light and saw the cute driver stare at her broken ankle. So her gaze dropped, her hand moving with deliberate slowness along the length of her cast, her fingers tracing the contours with her nails gliding on her long cast as if savouring the sensation.

"I was...having wild sex with my wife," she began making it up, her voice low and husky. "I got a bit too aggressive during bondage, and my enthusiasm got the better of me. While tying her down, I lost my balance and tumbled off the bed, landing badly. The next thing I saw and heard was my leg breaking in two places."

The driver winced. "Wow bondage gone wrong. That sounds amazing, I mean painful miss."

Claire smiles, her lips curving playfully. "It was so painful. But now? I kind of like the attention my cast gets."

The driver swallowed hard, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter as her gaze flickered back to the striking red cast and Claire just smiled

The car rolled to a stop in front of Claire's building. The driver was out in an instant, hurrying around to open the door. Claire swung her good leg out first, adjusting her balance as the young woman grabbed her crutches from the backseat.

"Here," the driver said, holding them out.

Claire took her time, deliberately brushing her fingers against the driver's as she accepted them. She shifted forward, planting the rubber tips of the crutches on the pavement, and pushed herself up gracefully. The woman watched, clearly mesmerized by the sight of Claire balancing on her crutches.

She was so ready to move toward the entrance of the building. Each step sent a sensual sway through her body, the crutches clicking in a hypnotic rhythm. She didn't look back, she knew the young driver's eyes were still on her.

Inside, the cold air felt nice against her flushed skin. She pressed the button for the elevator, shifting slightly as she adjusted her stance. When the doors slid open, she stepped inside, only to realize she wasn't alone.

I followed in after her, my breath catching just slightly at the sight of her against the sleek glass walls of the elevator. Claire looked... unreal. Her short and tight black dress hugged her body like a second skin, and that red cast? It was a striking contrast, bold, unmissable. She was a fetishist dream woman.

I was so turned on.

She leaned lightly on her crutches effortlessly, confident, yet something about the way she held herself made my pulse quicken. Maybe it was the way her lips curved into a knowing smile, or how her eyes flickered to mine, sharp and teasing.

The doors slid shut.

We were all ALONE.

I swallowed, suddenly hyper-aware of the slow hum of the elevator as it ascended. The glass around us reflected every detail, her poised stance, the smooth arch of her neck, her beautiful and strong left leg, the rise and fall of her chest beneath the fabric of her dress.

"You keep looking at me like that, I might start thinking you have a thing for injured women."

I stepped just a little closer. "Maybe I do, but first who do you work for Claire?" I asked.

And with that, I pressed the emergency button and stopped the elevator, the soft hum of machinery halting as the car came to a standstill. She froze for a moment, her beautiful green eyes widening slightly before she smiled trying to regain control, her lips curving into that playful smile I loved so much.

"Bold move," she teased, her voice low and smooth.

I didn't respond with words. Instead, I closed the distance between us, my hands finding her waist as I pulled her close. Her crutches clattered to the floor, but neither of us cared. Her arms wrapped around my neck for balance on her high heel shoe. Her body then pressed against mine, and I kissed her, hard, deep, and full of sexual expectations.

She moaned into my mouth, her right leg in its full leg cast, bent at the knee, brushing against my penis as I pressed her against the elevator wall. I was in total control, and she knew it. Her body yielded to mine, her hands gripping my shoulders for balance, her lips parting hungrily as I deepened the kiss.

The way she sexually surrendered to me, her breath, her whimpers muffled against my mouth, sent a renewed surge through me. She was strong, confident, and unbreakable, yet here she was, completely at my mercy.

I think she also knew... that I liked it even more like this. There was something about the contrast of her leg cast, her crutches, her vulnerability mixed with her unshakable confidence, that made her even more irresistible.

She didn't shy away, didn't hesitate. She knew about my past and yet she gave herself to me completely, and I loved it.

The Deal Maker
Chapter 9 to come
K

The Deal Maker chapter 7

 The Deal Maker

Chapter 7

"Who are you working for, Claire? Who the fuck are you really?" I whispered, letting the words linger, my fingers grazing the edge of her jaw before I kissed her lovely lips...

There was a flicker of something, fear? Amusement? passing through her green eyes. But it was gone just as quickly, replaced by that same smile she always wore when she was playing a game. She tilted her head slightly, her lips almost brushing against my jaw.

"Now, why would you ask me something like that Boss?"

I didn't move, didn't break eye contact. My fingers still rested lightly on her thigh, just beneath the hem of her hospital gown, wetness inches from my fingers, the heat of her skin seeping through the thin fabric.

"Because something doesn't add up."

She chuckled softly, but there was an edge to it. "You just bribed a doctor to put me in a full leg cast for six weeks. And you're questioning me?"

My eyes locked onto hers, unwavering. I could feel the sexual tension building between us, the air thick with anticipation.

"I'm not questioning you, Claire. I'm warning you. You see, I have a few...investments, in certain individuals, and I have reason to believe you're not who you say you are." My fingers danced along her vagina, sending shivers down her spine.

"I think you're getting a little too worked up over nothing, Boss." She tried to sound casual, but I could sense the faintest tremble in her words while I slid one finger inside her....

Dr. Reynolds nervously scribbled a note on the chart after what he witnessed. "I'll send the nurse in to prep you for casting." I watched as Claire shifted in her seat, her fingers trailing absently over the curve of her knee.

Six weeks.

I had just made a very, very satisfying deal.

Claire was on the casting table, her long leg stretched out as the nurse prepped the materials. The bright red fibreglass that Claire chose sat on the tray beside her, waiting to be wrapped around her delicate, injured limb. I sat close, closer than necessary, watching every careful movement as the nurse lifted Claire's leg. The way her toes curled slightly, the way her muscles tensed when they positioned her just right.

First, the soft stockinette slid up, covering her foot and stretching all the way up to her thigh. Claire reacted when the cool padding followed, layer upon layer wrapping snugly around her calf, her knee, her upper thigh. Then came the fibreglass.

The first strip of casting material was moistened and rolled gently around her ankle, the material stiffening slowly. I watched, captivated, as her sleek, toned leg, a sight I'd come to admire, slowly disappeared under the layers. The doctor worked meticulously, his hands shaping the material around the delicate arch of her foot, locking it into a perfect, immobile position at a precise 90-degree angle.

Her long, graceful leg, once so fluid and free, was now in something equally mesmerizing. The perfect red cast followed her every contour, as if it were an artist's creation. I couldn't look away as the doctor continued, layer by layer, wrapping her leg in a vibrant, deep red cast. The color was striking, bold yet elegant, like the woman herself I had to admit regarding if she was in my office for my downfall.

As the final strip was smoothed into place, the transformation was complete. Her leg, once a vision of natural strength, was now wrapped in that stunning red cast. The sensuality of it was undeniable, the way it hugged her form, the way it seemed to accentuate her femininity rather than diminish it. Her injury made her even more sexy.

Claire exhaled slowly when the nurse left, her head tilting toward me. "Happy now?"

I dragged my gaze up her body, taking in the way the red cast gleamed under the fluorescent light. The way it followed the shape of her long leg, from toes to thigh, leaving her utterly dependent on those crutches because of the angle of the cast at her knee.

I leaned in, my voice a whisper meant only for her. "Ecstatic, you look perfect Miss Claire or whatever is your real name."

Later on that night, Claire had been resting on the couch, her full leg cast propped up on a stack of pillows, when a sharp knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts. Dressed in nothing but a soft, fitted t-shirt and snug yoga pants, no bra and underwear, she shifted, feeling the cool fabric stretch over her round breasts while teasing her nipples. A long white sock covered the foot and lower leg portion of her cast, keeping her exposed toes war. She exhaled through her nose, already knowing who it was

Her friend and handler, Detective Vanessa Price.

With a quiet groan, Claire shifted forward, bracing her hands on the cushions. Moving was still a struggle. Her cast was long, heavy, awkward, and every movement sent dull throbs up her ankle and leg. She reached for her crutches, gripping them tightly as she moved herself upright.

A deep breath. Then another. And finally, she crutched her way toward the door, her leg cast was bent at the knee and it was impossible for her to put any weight on it so she had to rely on crutches full time.

Another knock, this time more insistent.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming," she muttered under her breath, adjusting her grip on the crutches as she reached the door.

When she swung it open, Vanessa Price was leaning against the door frame, arms crossed over her chest, a smile playing at the edges of her lips. Her sharp brown eyes flickered over Claire's body, lingering for a moment too long on the erected nipples.

"Well, look at you," Vanessa drawled, stepping inside without an invitation. She let the door swing shut behind her. "I leave you with a sprained ankle and you come back with a double fractured leg? Didn't take you for the damsel-in-distress type."

Claire rolled her eyes and hobbled back toward the couch, but she felt Vanessa's gaze trailing her. The way she watched every movement, the slight sway of Claire's hips, the way the fabric of her yoga pants stretched over the long cast.

"Are you enjoying the view?" Claire tossed over her shoulder.

"Immensely," Vanessa admitted, following her into the living room. "Never thought I'd see you like this so vulnerable."

Claire lowered herself back onto the couch, setting her crutches aside. "I'm not vulnerable. I'm sure it's not even broken"

Vanessa arched a brow, stepping closer. "Oh, really?" She let her fingers trail along the surface of the red cast, her touch deliberate. "Looks to me like you're stuck here, waiting for someone to take care of you."

"Cut to the chase, Vanessa, why are you here?"

Vanessa smiled and sat down beside her, she was close, too close. "You know why. Your little accident changes things. You're out of commission for a while, which means I need an update."

"No way, nothing's changed. I'm handling him. He's mine, I will get him to confess"

Vanessa's fingers trailed down Claire's cast again, slow, almost absentminded. "Doesn't look like you're handling much of anything right now." Her voice dipped lower, more intimate. "Tell me, Claire... does he know you're a cop?"

Claire swallowed hard, meeting Vanessa's gaze and lied. "No but I know he wont be able to resist me in this long red cast."

"Good." Vanessa's lips curled into a wicked smile. "Because I'd hate to see what he'd do if he found out who you really are." Looking at her friend's leg cast and sock covering her little toes.

The next morning, Claire sat on the edge of her sleek leather couch, her polished nails gliding over the smooth fabric of her black dress as she adjusted its hem. The black dress hugged her perfectly, sophisticated yet very seductive, its deep V-neck revealing just enough to tempt without giving too much away.

Her red cast was partially propped on the ottoman in front of her. She then reached for her crutches, their cool metal steadying her as she carefully stood into position. She was getting better at this, balancing elegance with necessity.

A soft knock at the door broke her focus.

The Deal Maker
Chapter 8 to come
K

The Deal Maker chapter 6

 The Deal Maker

Chapter 6

I watched Claire as she made her way toward my SUV, her long legs looking so graceful despite the awkward rhythm of the crutches. With every step her hands tightening the rubber as she swung her injured leg forward. The swelling and purple ankle drawing my gaze like a magnet.

She paused beside the passenger door, all her weight onto her good leg. Her green eyes flicked up to mine, expectant.

"Are you going to open the door, or are you just going to stare at me all night?" she teased, almost forgetting that I'm the owner and her immediate supervisor.

I smile, stepping forward. "I'm admiring the view."

She rolled her eyes but didn't hide the smile on her lips.

I opened the door, sliding an arm around her waist to help her up into the seat. She smelled so good. My hands lingered just a second longer than necessary as I lifted her injured ankle, guiding it carefully inside before resting it across the center console. I grabbed her crutches and tossed them into the backseat.

The drive was quiet, but the sexual tension between us crackled like electricity. Claire shifted slightly, adjusting her seat, and her injured leg slid on my lap.

Every red light became an opportunity.

My fingers skimmed over the swelling, tracing her injured ankle and foot. Vulnerable on my lap, the curve of her arch tempting me like never before. I let my palm drift lower, over her toes, feeling the way they flexed instinctively at my touch. She sucked in a quiet breath, watching me through half-lidded eyes.

"You like looking and touching my injured limb, don't you?" she asked, voice teasing, but there was something else there too. Something deeper.

I didn't even bother denying it. "Guilty."

Her smirk widened, and she shifted slightly, deliberately stretching her leg out just a little more. Offering me a better view. A silent invitation and she was rubbing it against my penis.

"At least buy me dinner next time before you... you know..." she murmured, her voice laced with something dangerously tempting.

I let my thumb graze the top of her foot, watching the way her breathing changed at the painful touch. She arched a delicate brow, her lips parting as if to respond but the light turned green, and I pressed the gas, sending us forward to the hospital, tension thick in the air between us

Claire sighed as I helped her out of the SUV, only her good foot touching the ground before she steadied herself on her crutches. The hospital doors slid open with a soft whoosh, and the sterile scent of disinfectant filled the air. Later on we checked in at radiology, and within minutes, a nurse in blue scrubs called Claire's name. I walked with her as she crutched down the hall, her ankle stiff and unable to move now.

The room was dimly lit, the only real illumination coming from the monitors and the lightbox on the wall. A tall, middle-aged radiology tech with square glasses gestured toward the X-ray table.

"Alright, Miss Claire, let's get you situated. We're taking images of the ankle, lower leg and foot."

Claire nodded as I helped her onto the table, my hands lingering under her thigh longer than necessary as I lifted her leg into place. The tech didn't seem to notice or if he did, he didn't care.

"Okay, now, I need you to hold still while I position your foot."

He gently took hold of her injured limb and adjusted her foot onto a small padded block, angling her ankle slightly outward. Claire winced, sucking in a breath through her teeth.

"That uncomfortable?" he asked

"Just a little," she admitted.

I stood beside the table, watching intently as the tech adjusted the X-ray machine above her leg. I could see the way her toes curled slightly as she braced for the discomfort.

"Alright, hold still," the tech said, stepping behind the protective glass. "One more angle," he said, stepping forward again. He gently turned Claire's ankle inward, just a bit more than before. Her fingers gripped the edge of the table, breathing hard.

"You're doing great, Claire."

We waited in a small exam room, Claire absentmindedly wiggling her toes. She looked relaxed, but I could see the subtle tension in her shoulders.

"I will be right back Claire, I will get us some coffees"

I met the doctor, a man in his late 40s with a confident stride and a crisp white coat. He flipped through Claire's chart, barely glancing at the X-rays.

"Well sir I've reviewed the images of your wife's ankle and lower leg, and the good news is It's just a third degree sprain, nothing is broken. A walking boot for a few weeks, and she'll be good as new."

Offering the doctor a firm handshake, holding it just a second longer than necessary.

"Doctor..." I glanced at his name tag, "...Dr. Reynolds. Let's talk."

He gave me a wary look. "About what?"

I smiled, slipping my hand into my pocket. "I'm a man who appreciates... certain aesthetics."

I let my gaze drift toward Claire's X Rays. "And I'd like a second opinion from you sir on that X-ray."

His brows furrowed. "I don't understand"

I took a step closer, lowering my voice. "Come on, doc. Do you know who I am? I know a simple sprained ankle when I see one. But I also know how these things can be... reassessed." I let my fingers against his arm.

"What if this wasn't just a serious sprain? What if... it required a bit more care?"

His gaze flickered toward my face and eyes, then I could tell he realized who I was.

I smirked. "Six weeks. A full leg cast. That's what I'm thinking is in poor Claire's future and for you next time you need anything, I mean anything I'm your man Dr. I'm a very good friend to have in your pocket"

He hesitated, flipping back through the X-rays. After a long pause, he exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. "You're persistent."

"No, I'm a deal maker." I said, he sighed, shaking his head walking into Claire's room.

"Well, Claire... upon examination, it looks like you actually fractured both the tibia and fibula at the ankle. That means..." He glanced at me before continuing. "We'll need to immobilize your entire leg. Full cast, six weeks, non weight bearing and crutches."

Claire's eyes widened. "Wait, what? Are you sure? That's impossible."

I leaned in closer, my lips just inches from her ear. I brushed a slow, deliberate kiss against her skin, my tongue flicking lightly, my breath warm as I exhaled a quiet moan.

"Who are you working for, Claire? Who the fuck are you really?" I whispered, letting the words linger, my fingers grazing the edge of her jaw before I kissed her lovely red lips...

The Deal Maker
Chapter 7 to come
K

The Deal Maker chapter 5

 The Deal Maker

Chapter 5

For a short moment, as I met Claire's green eyes, a memory surfaced. A woman I once dated, lets call her Charlotte since her case against me is still in the court system. Tall, poised, with the same sharp gaze that held more challenge than submission. She had always teased, always pushed boundaries. And one night, she had pushed just a little too far.

It had started as a game, playful resistance turning into something else. A misstep, a push, a stumble, her ankle giving way beneath her first as she landed hard, the sharp crack of pain cutting through the night when her tibia broke in 3 places.

I remembered the way she clung to me, the weight of her in my arms as I carried her inside. The hours in the emergency room, the slow realization that she was going to be in a leg cast for months with crutches.

Three days later, she sent me a photo, her entire leg immobilized in a pristine white cast, stretching from her toes to her upper thigh. Well, you finally did it, she had written, a smirk in her voice even through text. You wanted to see me in a cast, now you get to pay for it, I know you pushed me down. My lawyer will contact you.

That damn female lawyer...

I didn't even realize it at first. My fingers, wrapped around Claire's delicate ankle, pressing, twisting. The way the bandages shifted under my grip, the slight resistance beneath my touch. Her foot bent awkwardly in my hands, the arch straining unnaturally, her toes flexing as if searching for balance that wasn't there. The soft wrap around her ankle did little to mask the way it angled just a bit too far inward, the tendons beneath my fingertips tightening in protest.

I should have let go. I should have eased my grip.

But instead, I held it there for just a moment longer, mesmerized by the vulnerability of it, the way her injured foot trembled slightly, the bandages pressing into the swelling just beneath the surface. The angle was unnatural.

I didn't register the warning until her voice cut through the haze.

"Sir... please let go of my ankle."

I blinked, snapping out of whatever trance had taken hold of me, my hands still cradling the vulnerable joint. Slowly, I released her, my palms lingering for just a second longer than they should have, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath the layers of compression. I muttered an apology, but Claire only exhaled, adjusting in her seat, rubbing at her lower leg like she was trying to erase the lingering sensation of my hands and possibly broken bones.

I lifted my gaze from her ankle to her face, concerned as I met those piercing green eyes. Claire's lips parted, her lovely chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. A quiet moan escaped her, barely audible but thick with something I couldn't quite name.

"I think..." she murmured, her voice uncertain, laced with the barest hint of pain. "I think my leg or my ankle might be broken, sir."

The words sent a slow pulse through me, heavy and electric. My grip on her ankle loosened slightly, but I could still feel the warmth of her skin through the bandages, the slight tremor of her muscles beneath my fingertips.

"You think so?" My voice came out lower than I intended, my thumb brushing along the curve of her foot, testing.

Claire winced, her breath hitching. "It feels... wrong. Like it's not supposed to be bent that way."

"Let me check it," I murmured, my voice softer now, measured. She hesitated for just a moment, then gave a slow nod, licking her lips. "You need to stay still for me," I said, my tone deeper now, controlled.

I reached for the small metal clip securing the Ace bandage in place, my fingers grazing against the stretched fabric. Claire's green eyes watched me, her lips slightly parted, her breath shallow while her left hand was between her legs.

Slowly, deliberately, I unfastened the clip, letting it slip between my fingers. The bandage wound tightly around her ankle, held onto the curve of her leg, resisting slightly as I caught the first layer between my fingertips.

I started to unravel it, guiding the fabric away from her skin with a careful touch. The soft, textured material glided over my fingers, unwinding in slow, steady loops. With each rotation, more of her leg was revealed, the delicate slope of her ankle, the gentle swell of bruising.

Her calf tensed slightly, as if she wasn't sure whether to relax into my hands or pull away.

"Easy, almost there, I won't hurt you, I promise."

As I reached the final wrap, I let the fabric fall away, exposing her completely. Her ankle lay bare in my hands, flushed, swollen, vulnerable and possibly broken. I let my fingertips hover just above the fracture for a moment, absorbing the sight of her foot resting so delicately in my grip. The natural arch, the faint tremble as she adjusted, the way her toes flexed as if testing their freedom.

I traced a slow path along the side of her ankle, feeling the slight heat radiating from the tender joint.

"Does that hurt?" I asked, pressing lightly.

"Yes... You're... really enjoying this, aren't you?" Claire's voice broke through the haze, teasing yet breathless.

I smirked, my thumb pressing gently against the tender spot just above her arch. "I wouldn't say I'm enjoying it." I let the pressure linger a moment longer before meeting her gaze again.

"So, doctor... what's the verdict?"

"Oh, sweetheart," I murmured, tightening my grip. " You need X Rays but I think you're going to need a lot more than just a few bandages."

I slid my hand beneath Claire's knee, my other arm wrapping around her waist as I helped her up from the chair. She was warm against me, her scent a mix of soft perfume and something more intoxicating, something uniquely her. She sucked in a breath as her bare, injured ankle and foot brushed the floor..

"Easy," I murmured, pulling her closer.

Her body pressed against mine for just a moment before I guided her crutches into her hands. Claire's lips parted slightly as she steadied herself, balancing on her good leg. Her pencil skirt rode just a bit higher as she shifted, the sleek fabric hugging her curves in all the right places.

I leaned in, our lips meeting in a soft, gentle kiss. I could feel the warmth of her breath against my face. She let out a soft sigh as I deepened the kiss, my tongue tracing the seam of her lovely lips. She opened for me, her tongue meeting mine, a soft moan escaping her lips when she put down her injured limb.

She backed up slightly and I slid my hand down her leg, pulling her injured ankle in my hands, feeling the swelling of her possibly broken ankle and leg against my fingers. She was soft and warm, her body fitting perfectly against mine. I could feel her heart racing, could feel her breath coming in quick, shallow gasps. I lifted her injured limb even higher, I kissed her ankle, trailing my lips along her foot, ankle and lower leg, hearing her moan.

She let out a soft whimper when I lovingly and slowly twisted her foot, her head falling back. I could see the goosebumps rising on her skin.

"You're so beautiful," I murmured against her toes and foot, my hands running up and down.

"You are so goddamn beautiful broken Claire."

She let out a soft sensual moan while dropping her crutches, her hands gripping my shoulders for support. I could feel the heat between us, and could feel the tension building.

I trailed my lips back up to hers, capturing her in a deep, passionate kiss. I could feel her body melting into mine, and I could feel her desire matching my own.

I slid my hand up to her chest, my thumb brushing against the swell of her breast, against her fully erected nipples. She let out a soft gasp, her eyes wanting more but it was time to go.

She re-positioned her crutches and exhaled slowly. "Guess I really can't put any weight on it now."

I smiled, my gaze drifting down to her exposed, vulnerable foot, swollen ankle, delicate, and now free of its bandages.

"No, you can't," I said, my voice laced with something deeper. "Let's get you to the hospital."

The Deal Maker
Chapter 6 to come
K

The Deal Maker chapter 4

 The Deal Maker

Chapter 4

A mischievous, devilish smile curled her lips. Making her way to the door, she grabbed her stylish ladies backpack and her phone. She stepped into the hallway on her crutches clicking against the hardwood floor and stopped in front of the floor to ceiling mirror. She stared at herself, her toned legs, her sprained ankle, the elegant sway of her skirt, the delicate contrast of vulnerability and in being total control.

Claire stepped out of the building slowly, the cool morning air brushing against her legs as she adjusted her grip on the crutches. The tight wrap of the Ace bandage around her right ankle sent a constant dull throb up her leg with every movement, but she welcomed it. Pain made it real and maybe did more than that

A sleek black car pulled up to the curb, her Uber arriving right on time. The driver, a tall man in his late thirties with warm brown eyes, quickly got out and moved around to open the door for her. His gaze flickered down, taking in the contrast of her long, smooth leg in sheer pantyhose and the other wrapped snugly in beige bandages, floating off the pavement.

"Need a hand, Miss Claire?" he asked, his voice rich with concern.

Claire offered him a small smile. "That obvious, huh?"

He chuckled, extending a hand. "I've seen plenty of people try to tough it out. Trust me, it's easier if you let someone help."

She hesitated for a fraction of a second, just enough for him to see it, then nodded, letting him steady her as she eased onto the seat. His hands were firm but careful, fingers brushing against her waist as she adjusted her position.

Once she was settled, she shifted her bandaged foot inside, flexing it slightly with a soft wince.

"Guess I won't be running any marathons soon."

He smiled as he closed the door. "Well, if you need another ride later, I'll be around. Try not to get into too much trouble on those crutches and high heel." Claire smiled, watching him through the window as he walked back around. Oh, if only he knew.

The moment Claire stepped into the office, I felt the air shift. A hush seemed to follow her like the room itself had paused to take her in. My eyes trailed over her, unable to help the way they lingered on her long legs. With her crutches under her arms, she moved with practiced elegance, her knee slightly bent, her bandaged foot hovering just above the polished floor.

The grey pencil skirt clung to her and her white blouse lay perfectly tucked, the buttons drawing my eyes downward, teasingly hinting at what lay beneath. It all made her look effortlessly powerful, despite the vulnerability of her injury. Her pantyhose shimmered slightly under the office lights, one leg sleek and perfect, the other wrapped in bandages, a striking contrast that I couldn't tear my gaze from.

She moved across the room, her crutches clicking softly against the floor with her good foot, elegant in a high stiletto heel. The curve of her calf is accentuated by the delicate arch. The contrast was mesmerizing, carefully held to avoid any pressure and pain.

My eyes traced the length of her injured leg, drawn to the thick Ace bandages on her foot, ankle and lower calf. For a moment, I wondered how close her injury was to a need for a leg cast, perhaps? The thought sent a shiver through me. And then, my mind wandered further, what if it were a full leg cast, stretching from her delicate toes all the way up her lovely thigh? The image was almost too much, my pulse quickening at the mere idea.

Every shift of her body sent a quiet sexual thrill through me. The way her hips swayed with each calculated movement, the slight wince as she adjusted her balance, the way her wrapped ankle hovered just above the floor, all of it demanded attention. She was a vision of vulnerability and sexiness, every inch of her exuding pure hot attraction.

I moved before I even realized it, I stood, my body acting on instinct. "Here, let me help," I said, my voice steadier than I felt.

Claire's lips parted slightly, amusement flickering across her face, but she didn't refuse me. Instead, she allowed me to guide her gently toward her office chair. She sank into it with a sigh, her grip on the crutches loosening as she leaned back.

Without thinking, I knelt before her, my hands instinctively reaching for her injured ankle. The bandages were snug, wrapped expertly around the delicate joint, but I could feel the warmth of her skin beneath the layers of fabric. The moment my fingers brushed over the curve of her foot, a jolt ran up my spine.

"Does it hurt?" I asked, my voice lower now, almost hushed.

She studied me, eyes sharp but unreadable. "Not too bad," she murmured. "As long as I don't move it too much, put any weight on it at all or you don't twist it."

I nodded, barely breathing as I lifted her foot just slightly, resting it on my thigh to elevate it. My thumb traced lightly over the bandage. A shiver ran through me at the contrast of the firmness of the wrapping, and the softness of her skin just beneath it. For a moment, I lost track of where I was, who I was supposed to be in this scenario. My fingers lingered longer than they should have, caressing along the outer curve of her ankle, my touch feather-light but deliberate.

Claire inhaled sharply, her back straightening just a fraction. A slow, knowing smile curled at the edges of her lips.

"Be careful sir, my sprained ankle is very sore" she teased, her voice barely above a whisper.

Reality snapped back into focus like a rubber band pulled too tight. I withdrew my hand, clearing my throat as I shifted back slightly. "

"I'm sorry I was just making sure you're comfortable," I said, forcing a casual smile, though my pulse thundered in my ears.

Claire's gaze lingered on me for a beat too long between my legs, something unreadable flickering in her expression looking at my fully erected penis. Then, just as smoothly as she always did, she settled back against the chair, her injured ankle now comfortably elevated, her fingers grazing the crutches at her side as if reminding me exactly what had drawn my attention in the first place.

Later on that day I leaned back in my chair, staring at the phone for a moment before pressing the page button.

"Claire, can you come to my office?" My voice was smooth, controlled, but inside, I was already picturing it. The way she'd move. The sound of her crutches tapping softly against the floor. The way she'd look at me.

A pause. Then her voice, low and teasing through the speaker. "On my way Sir."

Moments later, she appeared in the doorway, leaning gracefully on her crutches, her injured foot hovering just inches above the floor.That pencil skirt hugged her curves like it had been made just for her, the fabric sculpting over the gentle flare of her hips before tapering down above her knees, her crisp white blouse accentuating the lines of her breasts. But it was her legs, long, perfect, one in pantyhose, the other wrapped in Ace bandages that held me captive.

"You wanted to see me?" she asked, arching a brow, shifting her weight ever so slightly. The movement sent a small shiver up my spine.

I gestured toward the chair beside me. "Have a seat please."

She gave me a slow smile, taking her time as she moved toward it, the deliberate sway of her hips accentuated by the uneven rhythm of her steps. She sat, carefully lifting her wrapped ankle off the ground, her lips parting just slightly as she adjusted.

Before she could settle, I was already moving. Sliding a spare chair in front of her. Reaching for her injured ankle.

"Let me," I murmured, my fingers grazing the curve of her calf, feeling the silkiness of her pantyhose before they slid lower, wrapping around the firm bandages protecting her injured ankle. Her skin was warm beneath my touch, her muscles tensing just slightly as I lifted her foot, carefully resting it on the chair in front of her.

She exhaled, a slow, measured breath, her lips parting as she adjusted in her seat. My grip lingered, my thumb pressing lightly against the wrapped joint. A test. A tease.

"Still tender?" I asked, my voice deliberately low as I let my fingers slide, squeezing gently, feeling the give of the bandages beneath my touch.

Claire let out a soft, breathy chuckle. "What do you think?"

I pressed a little more, feeling the delicate resistance of her ankle beneath my hands, wondering. Just how much pressure... how much of a twist... would it take to turn this into something more? Something that required more than just a simple wrap, something rigid, unyielding. A leg cast, maybe.

For a short moment, as I met Claire's green eyes, a memory surfaced...

The Deal Maker
Chapter 5 to come
K

The Deal Maker chapter 3

 The Deal Maker

Chapter 3

Then, ever so slowly, Vanessa's other hand slid up Claire's calf, fingertips gliding over her pantyhose, savouring the curve of muscle beneath.

"You always wear such pretty shoes," her voice teasing as her fingers trailed along the delicate strap of Claire's stiletto. With a gentle but firm touch, she unfastened the buckle, the faint metallic click echoing in the dimly lit room. She slid her hand beneath Claire's arch, lifting her foot slightly as she tugged the shoe free, exposing her foot against the cool air.

Claire exhaled, watching Vanessa's every movement with her green eyes, the loss of her heel making her feel oddly vulnerable. But clearly Vanessa wasn't done. Her thumb traced slow, deliberate circles along the arch of her foot before pressing lightly against the delicate bones of her ankle.

"You have no idea how easy it would be to break your ankle... But I won't," she murmured, fingers caressing the joint with something almost like reverence. She turned Claire's foot gently, rotating it in small, methodical motions, testing the flexibility before pressing her thumbs along the tendons, feeling the slight resistance.

Claire sucked in a breath when Vanessa applied the smallest bit of pressure. It wasn't painful...yet...but there was an intimacy to it, an awareness in the way Vanessa's fingers played over the vulnerable spot.

"Are you sure you want this?" Vanessa asked, her voice low, her hands waiting just long enough for Claire to make the final call.

Claire swallowed, then gave a slow nod. "Do it."

Vanessa's grip tightened, her fingers firm but teasing as they circle Claire's slender ankle. Her gaze never wavered, studying Claire's every reaction as she slowly began to rotate the delicate joint. The smooth skin beneath her palm was warm, tense, bracing for what was coming.

With a deliberate, measured movement, she twisted, just enough, finding that perfect angle. A sharp jolt shot through Claire's ankle, spiralling up her calf like a slow burn. Her breath caught, a small gasp escaping her red lips, as her fingers clenched the sheets beneath her. The tendons in her foot shifted under Vanessa's touch, her toes curling slightly inside the high heel still dangling from her other foot.

Her chest rose and fell unevenly, the sensation a mix of pain and something deeper, something she wasn't ready to name. Vanessa's thumb brushed over the now-tender curve of her ankle, lingering, testing, almost savouring.

"There, it's ok..." Vanessa murmured, releasing her with a slow, almost affectionate glide of her hand down Claire's calf. "Now you've got your sprain."

Claire reached blindly for her glasses, sliding them back onto her nose. Her chest rising and falling as she tried to steady herself. She glanced down at her ankle, now beginning to swell, a deep shade of purple and red blooming beneath the delicate skin. The shape had already changed slightly, her foot angled awkwardly, the soft curves of her instep contrasting with the sharp tension in her ligaments. Her black stocking was torn at the side, exposing the injured flesh, while her high heel lay nearby.

With a slow smile curling on her lips. "Perfect." Claire exhaled sharply, wincing as she gingerly flexed her toes. "It looks bad enough, doesn't it?"

"It'll sell the act. He'll have no choice but to react. Let the games begin"

Vanessa crouched, hands steadying Claire's calf as she traced a thumb over the quickly swelling ankle. "Perfectly sprained. Nothing serious, just enough to make you limp with pain and use crutches if you want. Think you can play the part?"

Claire smiles, biting her lower lip before nodding. "Oh, I can play it. I was a theatre major before joining the firm"

Vanessa leaned in slightly, her breath warm against Claire's flushed skin. "Then go reel him in. And remember... the best predators let their prey think they're the ones in control." She grinned through the pain, already imagining the next step of the game.

The next morning, Claire sat at the edge of her bed, her injured foot resting delicately on her lap. If he were watching her now, how would he see her? She imagined his gaze lingering, dark and intrigued over her leg and injured ankle, as she carefully rubbed with the Ace bandage rolled the puffiness of her ankle, pressing just enough to make herself wince, the sensation a mix of dull ache and tingling awareness.

She felt wetness between her legs as she smoothed the bandage over the swollen joint again, the gentle friction sending a shiver up her calf. She wasn't just dressing for a sprain, she was crafting a scene, an image, one that would settle into his mind and stay there.

Would he picture her like this? Perched on the edge of her bed, one bare foot flexing, the other bound in soft restraint, her thighs shifting as she adjusted? Would he wonder how it felt when she slid her fingers along her sprained ankle to the arch of her foot, down to her toes, testing her own limits?

Or would he want to break it to see her in a cast? The thought sent a pulse of satisfaction through her.

She rolled the second bandage snugly, exhaling through her nose, securing her injured ankle that still throbbed from the night before. She winced slightly, adjusting the tension, ensuring it was snug but not too tight. Every motion sent pain up her calf, a constant reminder of Vanessa's careful handiwork.

She admired the contrast of the pale bandage against her smooth pantyhose, the sheer fabric shimmering faintly under the morning light. It was just tight enough to support her without completely immobilizing her foot. The ache lingered, pulsing in time with her heartbeat, but she didn't mind the pain; it was all part of the plan.

Satisfied with her handiwork, Claire stood carefully, placing her weight on her good foot before reaching for the outfit she had picked for the day. She slipped into a sleek grey skirt that hugged her hips and thighs, stopping just above the knee. The soft material stretched as she moved, accentuating the long, graceful lines of her legs.

A white blouse tucked neatly into the waistband, completing the look of pure sophistication. Next came her shoes, at least, one of them. She picked up her classic black stiletto, sliding her left foot inside, the familiar arching curve instantly transforming her posture. Was that dangerous while using crutches she wondered.

Her gaze drifted to her bandaged foot, pale and vulnerable against the hardwood floor. She flexed it slightly, testing the movement she tried to put weight on it, a sharp pain through her ankle in response.

"Fuck," she murmured, grabbing onto the nightstand for balance. The pain was real, deep enough to send another pulse of warmth through her calf.

Taking a deep breath, she reached for the crutches propped against the wall. Their cool metal felt solid under her hands as she adjusted them to the perfect height on her heel. With slow, deliberate movements, she eased her weight off her bad ankle, shifting smoothly onto the crutches. The moment she was upright, she felt the delicious contrast. One foot grounded in a sleek, polished heel, the other wrapped in soft layers of bandage, suspended just slightly off the floor. It was impossible not to notice her.

A mischievous, devilish smile curled her lips.

The Deal Maker
Chapter 4 to come
K

The Deal Maker chapter 2

 The Deal Maker

Chapter 2

A hidden folder, buried beneath layers of encrypted files, locked with a passcode she cracked in under a minute. When the files opened, her lips parted slightly, her breath catching, she smiled licking her lips.

Images. Videos. Documents. A collection of secrets that sent a shiver down her spine. At first, she didn't understand what she was looking at, but as she clicked through, a realization settled over her.

It was the boss's sexual fetishes...wow.

Claire leaned back, fingers hovering over the keyboard, heart pounding. She was shocked. But more than that... she was intrigued and knew how useful that could be.

Just then, the sound of footsteps echoed outside her office. Claire's pulse spiked. Someone was coming but not just someone, I was coming. With a swift motion, she shut the folder and locked her screen, just as the door creaked open.

"Working late Claire?" I asked.

Claire turned, flashing a slow, controlled smile. "Always Sir but it's time to go home, big day tomorrow."

She stood gracefully, her long legs unfolding as she adjusted her skirt with a delicate tug. Her high heels clicked against the polished floor as she took deliberate steps, the sway of her hips was lovely. She reached for her coat, draping it over one arm before smoothing a hand over the fabric of her blouse, almost caressing her breasts, ensuring it sat just right.

With an air of quiet confidence, she strode toward the door. She moved like a woman who knew I was watching her, she knew she was the center of my complete attention even in an empty room. As she passed by, the faint scent of jasmine and something deeper, something undeniably intoxicating, lingered in the air.

Claire paused at the front doors, glancing back at the camera long enough to let a knowing smile play at her lips before disappearing into the night.

It was the beginning of a cat and mouse game. A slow, deliberate hunt where neither of us spoke the truth, but both of us knew it. I saw it in the way she moved, in the way her gaze lingered just a second too long. She knew. And now, I knew she knew.

The images, the videos, sexual, intimate, raw, and undeniably revealing of my various sexual fetishes were burned into her mind, impossible to forget. She had stumbled upon something far more dangerous than she had anticipated, something that tipped the scales of control.

She wouldn't waste it. I could see it in her smile, in the glint of her green eyes behind those glasses. She had the patience of a predator, and when she was ready, she would push me over the edge, just to see how far I would fall.

Who was she working for?

Claire's fingers trembled slightly as she traced the edge of her skirt, her mind replaying the images she had uncovered, raw, forbidden, intoxicating. She squeezed her legs tighter, a slow smile curled her lips as she imagined the power now resting in her perfectly manicured hands. She was under the impression that I had no idea, no clue that she had seen my deepest secrets, my hidden sexual desires. And when the time came, she would make sure I saw her, not just as my personal secretary, but as the woman who held my fate between her red-painted fingertips.

Claire sat across from her handler in the dimly lit hotel room, one leg crossed over the other, her stiletto dangling lazily from her toes like women like to do. Detective Vanessa Price, older, sharper, and always in control, watched her with a clear interest. Those dam sexy legs.

"You found something, didn't you?" Vanessa leaned back against the headboard, arms folded, her dark eyes scanning Claire's expression.

Claire exhaled, tapping manicured nails against her knee. "Oh, I found more than something. I found everything."

Vanessa raised a brow. "How bad?"

Claire licked her lips looking at her handler, savouring the moment, letting the weight of her discovery settle over her like a slow, intoxicating sexual thrill. "Bad enough that I could ruin him if I wanted to," she murmured, her voice dripping with amusement.

Videos. Images. Sensual and sexual desires wrapped in vulnerability and beauty. Women on crutches, the slow, deliberate sway of their hips, injured limbs elevated as they moved. From non weight bearing to partial. The sleek curve of a leg cast that follows perfectly the contour of a women's leg, ankle and foot. Some with toes peeking out, some totally covered with socks, flexing with each step.

The quiet power of a woman navigating the world with a white cane with skirt, tight blouse and Italian pumps, her confidence unshaken despite the delicate fragility her blindness suggested. It was all there, laid out in digital proof, not a crime at all but a serious obsession buried beneath layers of control.

At last, Claire removed her glasses, rubbing the bridge of her nose as she leaned back. Without them, the world softened, blurred into a haze of color and shape. Legally blind without her lenses she would need the white cane or a modern app replacing it, her stunning green eyes seemed even more striking, raw and exposed in a way she rarely allowed. She blinked slowly, adjusting to the shift, then let a slow smile curl her lips.

Vanessa tilted her head, intrigued. "And you're sure it's real? Not some twisted fantasy folder?"

Claire's smirk widened. "Oh, it's real. Some of the audio leaves no doubt, and I know exactly how to use it."

Vanessa leaned forward, the air between them thick with unspoken tension. "So? What's your first move?"

Claire uncrossed her long legs, her pantyhose catching the soft glow of the bedside lamp. "I start small. A little bait, a little curiosity. Test the waters."She let her fingers glide slowly down her thigh, tracing the smooth fabric with a teasing, absentminded touch.

"Maybe... an injury," she murmured, her voice laced with quiet amusement. Her fingertips danced lower, following the curve of her long leg, skimming over her knee before continuing their slow descent.

"A sprained ankle," she said, her touch lingering just above the delicate joint, pressing lightly as if testing the idea. Her palm slid down to cradle her ankle, her thumb grazing the thin strap of her stiletto. With a subtle shift, she curled her fingers around the arch of her foot, the leather of her high heel like a second skin.

She exhaled softly, tilting her head. "Do you think he'd believe it?"

Vanessa shaking her head. "A fake sprain? He'd see right through it."

Claire sighed dramatically. "I was afraid of that so I'll make it real."

Vanessa studied her for a long moment before pushing herself up from the bed, walking toward Claire with slow, deliberate steps. "You're really willing to go that far?"

Claire held her gaze. "It's my first time undercover, I want a big win, I want to see how far he'll go. Let's start with a light sprain"

Vanessa's lips curled into a smirk as she stepped closer, her gaze locked onto Claire's. "Alright, sweetheart," she murmured, voice thick with something between amusement and anticipation.

"Let's make it convincing."

Claire didn't flinch when Vanessa reached down, her fingers wrapping around her right ankle with a deliberate grip. The moment stretched between them, thick with unspoken tension. Then, ever so slowly, Vanessa's other hand slid up Claire's calf, fingertips gliding over her pantyhose, savouring the curve of her muscle beneath.

The Deal Maker
Chapter 3 to come
K

The Deal Maker chapter 1

 The Deal Maker

Chapter 1

God I hate that expression.

I'm not a deal maker. I'm a fixer. A sculptor of success. You don't know my name, but you know my work. You see it on the front pages, on the news and at victory parties. I don't build businesses, I build careers. I shape the winners. I tilt the scales when they need tilting. And I make damn sure the right people stay on top.

You could call me a controller, but that would be too small, too crude. What I do isn't about taking changes or influencing, it's about guarantees. When I back someone, they don't just have an edge; they have the whole game rigged in their favor. Politicians, CEOs, media darlings, I make them. I whisper the right names into the right ears. I ensure the right scandals disappear but also that the right people fall. When you win, it's not luck. It's me.

Some dishonest people would say that I own them and maybe I do.

I keep my operation flawless, my identity separate from the deals I broker. No trails, no receipts. Just a network of power, a pulse beneath the surface of society's elite. It's a dance, one I move through with precision, tailored suits and an unshakable confidence.

I don't gamble. I don't take risks. I orchestrate. And I always, always win. You could say I am always in total control except for one serious weakness but that's a secret I keep hidden.

Claire, my new secretary, has been with the company for two years only and that should have been the first flag of possible problems. And yet she's been with me for two months already. From the moment I saw her, I knew she was different. She's young, ambitious, dangerously sharp and very intelligent.

Her green eyes, framed by sleek glasses, held something unreadable, while her short black hair added to her confidence she carried so effortlessly. Her full lips, painted in a deep, almost sinful red, curled into a knowing smile whenever she caught someone staring. And people did stare.

She's always impeccably dressed, sleek pencil skirts, silk blouses. Today, it's a deep emerald blouse, slightly unbuttoned, offering just a glimpse of the soft swell of her lovely breasts, just enough temptation to make anyone wonder and distract. Her long legs, wrapped in black pantyhose, extend effortlessly from beneath her skirt, ending in sharp stiletto heels. When she sits, she crosses them with ease, her posture always poised, always deliberate.

She seems to know the effect she has on me when she slowly slides her fingers along her sexy, long legs during a meeting, tracing the delicate fabric, teasing me and others. There's something deliberate in the way she crosses her legs, the way she lingers, as if testing invisible restraints. My eyes catch the contrast of silk against her skin, the elegant tension in her pantyhose, a soft barrier, but not an unbreakable one.

Maybe it's the way she makes restriction look so effortlessly alluring, as if she could command attention even if she weren't able to move a leg and walk so freely. The thought lingers, dark and tempting, stirring something deep, something unspoken, some crazy, undeniable potential with those long legs that coils tight in my mind.

But there's something about Claire that doesn't quite add up. No one really knows where she came from. No mentions of old jobs, no past connections. Her resume checks out, but it feels... manufactured. There's no history, no family, no college friends who drop by or old colleagues who recognize her. It's as if she simply appeared one day, fully formed, perfectly placed. And yet, she operates with a confidence that suggests she's always belonged.

"Good morning, Claire," James, one of the junior executives, greets her near the coffee machine.

"Hello, James," she replies, her red lips parting, flashing a lovely smile. She lifts her coffee, tapping her nails against the ceramic.

"Big meeting today James?"

He nods, shifting under her gaze. "Yeah. You know how it is."

She chuckles lightly, taking a slow sip. "I do. Try not to look too nervous, though. Confidence sells."

James laughs awkwardly before making a quick exit, leaving Claire to walk toward my office with that confidence she always carries. My eyes trail her as she moves her long, shapely runners legs in black pantyhose, the sharp click of her stiletto heels against the floor a sexual tease to me.

The emerald blouse she wears is crazy temptation, the silk blouse moulding her round breasts like it was made just for her. With every step, the fabric shifts, catching the light, offering a glimpse of smooth skin at the open collar, just enough to draw the eye, to make me wonder if she enjoys the attention. The subtle dip reveals the perfect swell of her breasts, the delicate hint of something meant to be uncovered.

She never knocks, never respects the barrier of a closed door, just strides in as if she belongs here, as if she owns the space. Her deep red lips curl into a smile as she sets the folder on my desk with deliberate ease, her movements slow, controlled, aware of every inch of herself and the effect she has.

"Your nine o'clock call is confirmed," she says, her voice smooth and professional, yet carrying that unmistakable hint of something more sensual. Then, with a knowing glance, she adds,

"And a reminder, Janet, your client no longer uses her full leg braces and crutches. She's fully transitioned to her sleek, sporty red wheelchair now. So, be mindful of what you say... and don't forget to tell her how stunning she looks in it."

"Thanks for the reminder," I say, my eyes lingering on her as she shifts her weight ever so slightly. Then, almost casually, I let the thought slip. "Can you imagine yourself in a wheelchair, Claire?"

My gaze drops to her legs, long, sculpted, in black pantyhose. The idea lingers between us, unspoken but heavy, as she tilts her head, a slow smile on those deep red lips. "Now that," she murmurs,, "would be quite the sight, wouldn't it?"

I watch her for a moment, noting the way she meets my gaze without hesitation. Who is she, really? Where did she come from? Something tells me I need to find out before....

I waited too long to investigate Claire. She's a sexy angel and a computer genius. She moves through the office like she owns it, but she never oversteps. She works efficiently, smoothly, but always seems one step ahead, as if she knows more than she lets on.

One evening, after most employees had left, Claire sat at her desk, absentmindedly scrolling through company files while a secret program of hers scrolled in the background. The glow of the monitor reflected against her sharp, inquisitive eyes.

Then something caught her attention.

A hidden folder, buried beneath layers of encrypted files, locked with a passcode she cracked in under a minute. When the files opened, her lips parted slightly, her breath catching, she smiled licking her lips.

The Deal Maker
Chapter 2 to come
K