My contract with Delcroft is almost done. Soon, I’ll be outta here.

Whether Jennifer leaves the company with me or not is still up in the air. I’ve already learned not to bug her too much. She has to make up her own mind.

The week after our engagement, work is quiet, uneventful. Things go okay, just the usual Delcroft fuck-ups. No counterfeit goods show up, and nothing untoward happens.

Same with the week after that.

Until, the following Thursday, when Flora fails to show up. Usually, she opens and closes the office, meaning she’s the first to arrive and the last to leave. When Jenny and I get to work that day, we have to wait outside the office until a manager shows up, who’s just as baffled as we are.

Flora doesn’t report to me, so we don’t know for sure, but we can only assume she’s having a sick day.

We hope she’s okay of course, but don’t give it another thought.

Friday morning, when we pull in to the office parking lot, it’s immediately apparent that something is up.

Two police cars flank the driveway, and police tape drapes the entrance to the building, ready to be tied into place.

Four black SUVs with fully-tinted windows sit in the parking lot, each one parked perfectly straight and precisely in its spot.

Jenny and I goggle at the cop cars, the SUVs and then at each other.

“Geez!,” Jenny says. “I wonder if someone died.”

“Wouldn’t be surprised,” I mutter, hoping it’s not the case.

I put the truck in park and shut the engine off. Just as I do, the front door opens and a bunch of guys wearing identical black suits start marching out, each one carrying a stack of banker boxes. They begin loading the boxes into the SUVs as Jenny and I watch.

“Now…that doesn’t bode too well. Looks like an investigation’s going on,” I say.

The door opens again and this time, Don the warehouse manager emerges, hands behind his back, one of the black-suited men close behind him, holding him by his plastic-tied wrists.

Don stares at us forlornly as he’s ‘helped’ into the back seat of one of the SUVs, disappearing from our view behind the tinted glass. A guy––agents of some kind obviously––gets into the vehicle on either side of him, pulling the doors closed after them.

“What the hell? What’s going on?” Jenny says.

“I dunno, but those guys are all dressed like special agents. Special cops or investigators maybe.”

The front door opens again and old man Delcroft himself is frog-marched out. Reginald Delcroft Senior, the elder board member, shareholder and majority owner of the company is ‘helped’ into another SUV before our astonished eyes.

“Holy shit!” I say. “This is serious! They’re busting old man Delcroft!”

Yep. Something went down. These people are all investigators, maybe FBI or some other agency.

And this is indeed… a bust!

Another black-suited agent comes out of the door, this one wearing an earpiece. He spots us, and hustles over.

“Sir? I’m sorry but you’ll have to leave. This is a criminal investigation.”

And then a woman emerges, sporting an earpiece and aviator sunglasses. She’s wearing a black tailored skirt and jacket over a sensible white shirt. Her hair is pulled back in a severe bun, and a pair of ugly black brogues adorn her feet. She exits the front door, spots us, and strides over to the truck.

“It’s okay, Jenkins. I’ll take responsibility for these two.”

Jenny and I both do a double-take.

It’s…Flora!

“Ten-four, Special Agent Coffey.” The man scurries away.

“Flora? What the…Special Agent Coffey? I thought your last name was Thomas? You’re a…a…what the hell are you?” Jennifer sputters.

The black-suited guys are still going in and out, carrying boxes of records and cartons of who-knows-what.

“Interpol.” Flora takes a badge from her pocket and flips it open, holding it up so that we can both read it. The name on the badge says Diane Coffey. “This is the closing phase of a long investigation. Delcroft is home to quite a nest of criminals.”

She removes her sunglasses. She still resembles Flora, but…she’s wearing so little makeup, and her voice is so…different, so…serious…she seems like an entirely different person.

“Diane Coffey,” Flora says, and holds her hand out to Jennifer. “Pleased to meet you folks.” With that, she grins, and for a moment, she looks like herself again. Like the Flora we know.

“I…wow! I knew there was some bad shit going on here,” I say. Then I remember Flora’s comments, some time ago, about how scumbags lay low when the heat is on.

And apparently, so does Jennifer. “Flora…what you said about scumbags…the heat? You’re the heat! Undercover heat!”

Flora says nothing, but the grin widens just a touch before disappearing.

“Please call me Diane. Other members of this ring are being arrested elsewhere as we speak.”

I laugh. “Interpol! So that’s how you did it! I always wondered how the hell you knew so much, for a receptionist! Ear to the ground, my ass!”

Flora––Diane––smiles but says nothing.

“Members of the ring?” Jennifer says. “It’s…a ring? Operating from Delcroft?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Flora, or, Diane, replies. “Counterfeit goods of all kinds. Fall protection hardware was a new venture for them. Bad idea, since that’s what caught our eye. They should’ve stuck to what they know.”

“And what’s that?” I ask.

“Counterfeit sunglasses, bags, clothing, and other such goods. The Delcrofts own warehouses all over the Midwest, many of them used as illicit distribution centers.”

“But…they’re…but…but…..” Jenny stutters, then stops herself and takes a breath. “What I’m trying to say is…are they really contractors? Or was…is that just a front?”

“Not just a front. The family built an honest business. However, in recent years, something apparently changed. We’re still digging out all the facts, but, we have enough to prosecute the main players now.”

“Don? I’d never guess…he seems like such a nice guy!”

“He is,” Diane says. “If a judge, or maybe, a jury, thinks so too, maybe they’ll be easy on him. He’ll have to throw himself on the mercy of the court.”

“So…about work?” Jenny asks. “Our jobs…I mean…do you know anything about that?”

I’m pretty sure we’re both out of a job now, no matter what. Oh well. My contract is so close to being done, I’ve collected all but the last, maybe, thousand dollars from it anyway.

“The only official statement I can give you,” Diane says, her expression grim, “is that these premises are now part of a crime scene under investigation. You won’t be allowed in there anyway.”

Blake and I look at each other, eyes wide.

Then, another grin lights Diane’s face, and for a moment, she’s Flora again. “Unofficially, though? I’d say, start looking for another job. Delcroft is finished, done, kaput. They’ll never come back from this.”

* * *

Blake and I speak with Diane aka Flora for another fifteen minutes or so, getting as much information from her as she’s willing to give.

Then we drive home, both of us in a state of shock.

“Wow! The whole time…Flora’s an uncover agent! Can you believe that? Interpol! She’s like…an international FBI agent or something!”

“She should get an Oscar for her performance as ‘Flora’,” Blake says. “Apart from that one comment she made about the heat, and a couple times when she seemed to know so much for a mere receptionist, she hit all the right notes. I had no idea she was anything but what she seemed.”

“Yeah. She seemed like a normal office worker. Down to earth, hard-working, nutty, in a fun way. She…Blake, I swear, she really did receptionist work while she was there. I saw her, I worked with her! I know she did! She didn’t just play the part, she really did the job.”

“Yeah. I guess they have to, or else they’ll blow their cover. But apparently, Delcroft Sr. did become suspicious about something, because they ceased movement of all illicit goods. Something made them nervous.”

“Flora, I mean, Diane, thinks it was that safety guy who died in mysterious circumstances on that job site in LA.”

“Yes, Bob Miller. Angel and I knew him. That could be enough to make Delcroft and his people nervous. Maybe they realized they were in over their heads. They probably were! This is the mafia they’re dealing with, honest-to-God gangsters. They don’t fuck around.” He falls silent, then reaches over to caress my leg. “I’m just glad it’s over. Aren’t you?”

I think about it for a few minutes. Am I glad it’s over?

I realize that I am. Delcroft was…ugh. A good place for work experience, maybe, but a shitty place to work. Working for corrupt, disorganized company, even just to take the money and run, is never going to feel like the right thing to do.

“Yeah. I’m glad too,” I agree, putting my hand over his.

“Well. We got some time off now,” Blake says. “You’ll have to think about what you want to do.”

I nod. “We should call Nick and Amanda and let them know. I can start right away, but…maybe it’s not such a bad idea to take some time off.”

“Not such a bad idea? Jesus, Jenny. That’s what I’ve been saying since Flora told us what she overheard that day! Damn right, let’s take some time off!”

“Diane, you mean.”

“Right, right. Diane. Shee-it!”

I smile. “I know, right? Diane? Who the hell is that? She’ll always be Flora to me.”

* * *

We spend much of the rest of the day on the phone. Blake talks to Nick and then Angel, and then his parents, and then a bunch of other people he knows in the business.

I talk to my mom, then Amanda, then a few other friends and some work contacts as well. Nick and Amanda offer assurances that we’ll still be under consideration when they’re ready to hire their permanent compliance staff, but that day is still a ways off.

Blake doesn’t need to work. And maybe I don’t any more now, either. I know he loves me and wants to provide for me, support me…but I feel weird about it.

I guess, until we have kids, I’ll feel weird having him support me while I sit on my ass.

Flopped on the couch, with Dog curled up and purring between us, I tell him. I tell him how I feel, how letting him support me makes me feel useless and obligated and well…gold-diggy, I guess.

“Gold-diggy?” He snorts, laughing. “First, that’s not a word. And second, how can you be “gold-diggy” when I’m the one telling you to knock off and take a vacation with me? Jesus Christ…what is this? It’s like there’s some guilt-trip laid on women who only work inside the home now.”

“I know.” I say. “It’s weird, isn’t it. But I do feel strong and confident in my skills now. I know I can hold my own in a professional environment just fine.”

“Yes but that’s not the point. The point is, women work whether they get paid or not. Take what you do as an example. You do a lot! You cook, you clean, you shop, you organize, you decorate, you feed me, you buy me clothing and even help dress me, for fucks sakes! You take care of me, of us, you plan everything we do, you make sure the bills are paid…”

“With your money!” I interject.

“Yeah, so what? It’s still on you to know what the bills are, and pay the damn things on time! Dammit, Jennifer! Why can’t you think of it as our money now? We’re engaged, we’re going to be married!”

“Okay. It’s our money. I…”

“And furthermore, I want you to come to the west coast with me and relax, have a little fun while Nick builds our house. Look. You’re my woman and I want you to take a nice vacation with me, what the fuck is so wrong with that?”

“Okay,” I say, laughing. “I said…okay.”

He stares at me for what must be a whole minute.

Then an impish grin curls his lips.

“C’mere, you” he says, beckoning with a finger.

“No. Nope! Nuh-uh!” I get up and back away, grinning. He makes a grab at me and misses. “No way!”

The look on his face becomes devilishly intent. Oh fuck!

I turn and start running towards the stairs. He jumps up after me, his heavy footfalls thundering close behind.

Shit!

I hold my skirt up and tear up the stairs as fast as I can, laughing and shrieking breathlessly. I run down the hall to my room and fling the door shut behind me, as if that’s gonna slow him down.

He bursts through it, chuckling his best, evil chuckle, the one he does that sounds so much like the actual devil laughing, it makes my hair stand on end.

“Yikes!” I pant, trying to catch my breath. “That is the creepiest laugh I’ve ever…”

He grabs me and throws me down on the bed. “I’ve got you now! Mu hu ha hah hah haaaaa!”

He lays his long, sturdy body on top of mine, puts his hands on either side of my face and just stares down at me. His grin fades, replaces by a look of such lust, heat rises in my belly and makes my panties damp.

Something long and hard takes shape in his pants, pressing against my thigh. He writhes, rubbing it against me.

“Mmmm,” he whispers. “I can feel your nipples poking me in the chest.” His face dips into the hollow between my jaw and my neck, and his kisses and nuzzling make my hips rock against him.

He pushes his cock against me even harder, his lips curling back from his teeth. “Feel that?”

“Oh yeah,” I murmur, licking my lips, my eyes going to his mouth.

He takes in my face, then focuses on my mouth, then fastens his lips on mine, kissing me deeply, passionately, insistently.

My pussy throbs and my pelvis rocks. Jesus, he makes me need him so bad!

Urgently, he pulls at my top, popping a button, making an “Oops” face that’s so comically endearing, and so opposite to his devilish laughter a second ago, I burst into giggles.

“Oh, something’s funny, huh,” he teases, then pulls my shirt the rest of the way off, sending another couple buttons flying. “You’ll have plenty of time to sew those back on,” he growls, waggling his brows.

With one hand, he levers my bra open and sends it sailing into the corner of the room.

I help him get his own shirt off and then that joins my bra on the floor, his pants and boxers following immediately.

He straggles me, his hard cock jutting and jouncing from between his legs, then he bends and takes my boob into his mouth.

Flicking the erect tip and raking his teeth over it gently, he then pulls as much as he can into his mouth, before doing the same to the other one.

My body feels like it’s on fire now, my pussy pulsing greedily.

He sits forward, and, holding my tits together, he cradles his penis between them, the meaty head straining towards my mouth.

I lower my chin and lick it on every upstroke as he watches avidly.

“Ohhh, yeah,” he growls. “So fucking hot,” he breathes, holding my breasts together against his shaft while I take the glans into my mouth.

I suck on it, swishing it with my tongue, until his breath quickens and his cock jumps, leaking precum.

Quickly, he flips me over, spreads my legs and holds them open while he licks my pussy with long strokes, making sure I’m wet and ready.

I am ready…I am so ready, I’m shaking and moaning. He reaches into my bedside table and retrieves my vibrating wand, a gift he got for me and loves to use on me himself.

This is gonna be a good one.

He switches the vibrator on and then positions himself behind me. He rubs the tip of his cock between my lips, opening and spreading me, while gently pressing the vibrating head of the wand against my clit.

“Uhhh, ahhhh….that feels so nice” I whisper, eyes half closed.

Then he sheaths himself within me, slow and sure. I hold my breath and push back against him, loving how his hardness transmits pleasure through my flesh.

“Oh God, Jennifer…you feel so fucking good!’ He hammers me now, pushing himself all the way into me, rocking me from side to side and then straight on, slapping my body with his hips, making my pussy cream and juice, squelching with every stroke.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come,” he says, voice gritty, and stops his motion.

We both wait, trembling, until his orgasm subsides.

Then he applies the head of the vibrating wand between our bodies again, circling it against my clit while his rock-hard erection throbs in my depths.

It only takes a moment.

“Ah God…ahh…” My incoherent cries fade away as the sensation rises inside me.

The orgasm is heavy and intense, starting as a contraction deep inside me, making my vibrating pussy clench Blake’s cock tightly, clench and release and I’m coming, oh god I’m coming hard, so hard, the pleasure roars through me, racing from my throbbing, vibrating button through my soaking pussy, flooding Blake’s dick with my cream.

And buried in my depths, Blake’s cock hardens even more, caught up in the vice-like, sucking sensation of my orgasm, making him roar like a lion and drive into me as he comes, both of us bucking and gasping in sweaty, blissful ecstasy.