It was easily the most bizarre night of Jennifer's life. Here she was, a success investor from a prestigious hedge fund, sitting in the library of her own home while a stranger finished setting up an electronic device.
She silently cursed herself for allowing her husband to arrange this. You see, it was all her husband's idea, allowing this stranger into their home. To be fair, Jennifer had brought this upon herself. Sort of, anyway. A week ago she had been so busy with work that she had accidentally left her diary in plain view in the bedroom, and her husband had read it. And now here they were.
Jennifer was dressed in a nice outfit. This stranger was dressed in a white evening gown, looking as elegant as can be. On the table was a recording device, along with Jennifer's own diary, which the stranger had probably read by now. It pained Jennifer to know that all of her secrets were right there on the table for this other woman to flip through.
Worse, this stranger was far younger and very pretty.
Who the hell does she think she is?
Jennifer and her husband were both part of the same hedge fund and were highly respected in the financial world. They'd been invited to lavish parties and high flying political fundraisers. Together, they rubbed elbows with mayors and governors; once they had even met the President.
Now here she was, sitting in the library while this youngster, barely out of college it seemed, sat down across from her.
The nerve. The audacity. Who the hell does this woman think she is, strutting around in my home like this?
Even more frustrating, this was her 15 year marriage anniversary. At this hour, she should be at a fancy restaurant celebrating with a romantic dinner, instead of being stuck at home with this youngster.
"What should I call you?" Jennifer asked with a fake politeness, which wasn't fooling anyone.
The younger woman relaxed in the seat as if she owned the large estate. She crossed her legs, letting her heel and open toes show. She adjusted her evening gown so she'd look just right. The hostility didn't phase this young woman. She had seen it all.
"You can call me Mistress," the younger woman answered, pushing a button on the device. "And your husband is listening to this now."
Such a ridiculous name,
Jennifer thought.
"Is my husband in the other room?"
"In the bedroom, enjoying the conversation we're about to have."
"And what then?" Jennifer asked.
"It all depends. I have an idea of where this is headed. A woman like you, with your attitude, and your fantasies; I know just what to do."
Jennifer quietly seethed.
The nerve of this young woman!
But of course, Jennifer had the face of a poker player. It was a necessary trait in order to thrive in a male dominated career.
"You seem very confident in yourself," Jennifer noted.
There was a slightly condescending tone in her voice, which she tried to disguise poorly.
Mistress remained stone faced. "Part of my job is confidence. Same with yours."
"With all due respect," Jennifer smiled with an insulting politeness, "You don't know anything about me."
The Mistress didn't take offense. Not with her level of experience in breaking powerful people. She had seen this all before. Instead of overreacting, the Mistress reached over to the table and rubbed Jennifer's diary, the same way an elderly woman would caress a kitten. The back of her fingers gave gentle strokes to that very intimate book.
"Actually, I know
a lot
about you," the Mistress smiled with an insulting politeness of her own.
Jennifer tensed. "You shouldn't be reading that."
"Because it's not polite?"
"Basically."
The Mistress opened the diary and flipped through it. "Well I read it anyway, per your husband's request. And I'm assuming your request too."
"Not something I'm particularly thrilled with."
"I understand your apprehension. I really do. But I want you to be completely honest with me. That's why I'm here. I'm here to help you, not humiliate you. Your secrets will remain safe with me forever."
Jennifer resisted the urge to sigh. "Look, you seem like a nice young lady. But I'm sure you're aware that today is my marriage anniversary. We have plans to celebrate."
"They've been canceled."
"What?!"
The Mistress remained cool. "At my advice, your husband cancelled your anniversary plans for the night. Instead, you'll be here with me. You'll be served food afterwards."
"And what gives you the right to do something like that?!"
"I'm an expert with married couples," the Mistress smiled. "In fact, married couples are my favorite thing in the world."
"At your age?"
"Maybe I'm not as young as I look, or as innocent."
"Okay," Jennifer sighed. "What do you offer, anyway?"
The Mistress's body showed visible signs of arousal; her foot moved a little and her big toe curled. She licked her lips and salivated.
"I offer sexual dominance," the Mistress proudly asserted. "Nothing overly rough. Nothing that'll ruin you. But enough to give you a lasting impression. One that you'll never forget."
Jennifer flashed an uncomfortable look. "And what makes you think I'd be interested in any of that?"
"I have your diary, remember?" the Mistress asked, stroking the personal hand written book. "I've read it too. At least all the delicious parts."
There was a subtle grin on the Mistress's face which made Jennifer feel even more uncomfortable. God, how she struggled with this feeling of being made uneasy, in her own home of all places!
"I'm sure you've made my husband aroused with that statement. Assuming he's still listening."
The Mistress smiled, "Trust me, he's definitely still listening. In fact, he doesn't really have a choice."
"What do you mean?"
"You'll see," the Mistress said, licking her lips. "It's an anniversary thing. I thought I'd make it extra special for each of you, for the sake of spicing up your love life."
"Did he tell you anything about our love life?"
Jennifer asked that question out of pure curiosity. She knew that things had been getting a little stale with their love making, especially with the amount of work they'd been doing lately for the firm. A sexual slump is normal for marriages, and she was daunted by that fact.
For the past year or so, Jennifer had continuously told herself that things would go back to the