Dirty Pics Lead to Dirty Trics

Sometimes it is the wounds we inflict on ourselves that cause the greatest pain.

*

Albert Cooney watched as the monitor on Jane Reynolds' desk sped through series after series of letter, number and symbol combinations faster than the eye could follow. The password on file in the IT department hadn't worked and, realistically, Albert had never expected that it would. They seldom did, but it didn't matter. The millions upon millions of combinations the software systematically checked narrowed the possibilities with each one it rejected. Albert knew it was just a matter of time until the screen would freeze on an 8-character key that would give access to the secrets of any machine in the Portland network. The one on Jane's desk was no exception.

The request from Horace Burke was not new. The CEO did random checks on all of his executives and Albert was his go-to guy when access to their computers had to be accomplished quickly and discreetly. The task today did seem a little different because the boss himself hovered over his shoulder waiting for the search algorithm to work its magic.

Success brought a grunt of approval from Horace. It took only seconds for Albert to install an invisible back door and bury it while following HB's orders to remove any sign that the machine had been compromised. Next, he did a password search on the two email accounts on Jane's machine with similar success. A congenial pat on the shoulder told Albert the boss appreciated his services, but his further involvement in the project would not be required.

With a flourish befitting a computer genius Albert pushed himself back from Jane Reynolds' desk and made room for the big boss to take his place. He wouldn't wait around for Horace to crack her files. With the backdoor in place, he didn't need to.

Horace was no computer nerd but he had a practiced eye when ferreting out anything that looked out of place in a document file. Time would not permit a laborious scroll through the multitude of folders nor a meticulous look inside to see what files each one held. Burke simply plugged an external hard drive into a USB port and downloaded the entire contents of Jane's hard drive.

While the machines were talking, he went through her desk drawers and checked for other storage devices that may contain what he might be looking for, although at that point he wasn't really sure what that might be.

Hidden in the space behind the hanging files he found a DVD that looked out of place and he slipped it into his laptop and downloaded every byte that it contained. He was finished and back in his own office before the old security guard made his 8 pm rounds. His first phone call was to Madison Clark.

Madison's heart was in her mouth when she heard Burke's voice on the phone. It was all she could do to keep calm and businesslike while he spoke. "I have the passwords you'll need," he confided. "If you go in sometime between 8:15 and 11 pm you'll miss security. Otherwise, you'll have some explaining to do and Jane Reynolds may get wind of your having been there."

¬ Peter was watching Monday night football and his beloved Patriots were holding off the opposition by less than a touchdown. The Cowboys were third and six and nearing field-goal range so he hardly looked up when Madison kissed him on the forehead and said that she wouldn't be long.

Before the end of the half, Madison was settling behind Jane's computer and punching in the codes that Burke had given her. When the password allowed entry, she knew enough to go directly into Jane's email and delete everything that had her name on it.

There was no time to go through every folder so she systematically dragged every one of them to the trash. The recycle bin was next and when the little basket showed empty, all of Jane's files were erased. It took her a few extra minutes of searching to find the DVD's buried deep in the file drawer but Madison felt a triumphant surge as she tucked them into her purse.

In less than ninety minutes she was back in her own driveway with the weight of the world lifted off her shoulders. Peter's football game was over and he and Madison tumbled playfully into bed. He was euphoric because the Pats had won and she was ecstatic to have neutralized Jane's incriminating evidence.

They made love like teenagers and after lay side by side, sweating and exhausted, complacently content with their privileged lives. There was no mention of the spat that had them in separate bedrooms only twenty-four hours before, and neither took a chance of spoiling the moment by mentioning it. Seeing his pretty wife naked and sated, Peter felt that was proof that he had redeemed himself sexually from his embarrassing debacle.

Across town, Horace Burke tediously opened every file downloaded from Jane Reynolds' hard drive. Nothing suspicious jumped out and Jane's meticulous attention to detail could be seen in file after file. He was about to give up and wait for Madison to enlighten him as to what the HR manager might be doing wrong when his natural curiosity led him into Jane's email. A search for Madison's name brought up a dozen or more entries and he noticed a recent one with a hefty attachment. It took only one click on the paper clip icon for him to know instantly why Madison desperately wanted access to Jane's machine.

He clicked through the pictures, marveling at both Madison's sensual beauty and her saucy sexuality. In some she was clearly posing for the camera, but the poses were extremely provocative. No, more than provocative, they were pornographic he decided after a second viewing. The little slut from accounting had shed her prim reputation along with her clothes.

There was something else about each picture that was manifestly evident. Madison was clearly enjoying herself. She was excited by her nudity and aroused by showing herself in such brazenly sexual poses.

The second folder on Jane's hard drive was harder to find but it was an even greater revelation. Madison and Jeremy Shore! The eclectic mixture of stills and blow-job videos showed her considerable oral talents in another extra-marital dalliance. The variety of camera angles ensured Madison's face was fully visible and recognizable in every shot and the constantly changing camera perspective left no doubt that there had been a third person taking the pictures.

Burke was sure it had to have been Jane. That, and the incriminating nature of the photos, would surely explain the Head of Accounting's determination to access the Personnel Director's computer.

Madison's expressive eyes were very different in the second set of photos. There weren't any smiling, confident or coquettish eyes like in the first file. The eyes in these pictures were frightened, embarrassed, even humiliated. Burke could see that Madison was not posing willingly. There was also no question that the second set was intentionally more pornographic. The second set made the first look like erotic art.

Burke leaned back in his comfortable chair and shuffled through the pictures a second and a third time. "Well Mrs. Clarke" he mused out loud, "we know you can suck cock. It's high time we expanded your resume and put your other openings to good use."

He dealt out the pictures on the table in front of him and picked out the ones he liked best. The embarrassment in her eyes did it for him. He could feel her humiliation and that was definitely what held the greatest appeal for him. One of the perks of having power was the opportunity to bring that look into other people's eyes and Horace Burke knew it well. __________________________________________________

Tuesday morning dragged for Madison. She had been expecting her phone to ring at any moment with an irate Jane Reynolds on the line. But, it didn't ring. At noon she made a point of walking through the HR department and was disappointed to see Jane's door was open, but there was no Jane. There were no papers on her desk save for a scattering of telephone messages. It didn't look like the HR Director had been there at all.

By five o'clock she was preparing to go home when the ring tone on her cell phone startled her. It was Mr. Burke and he wanted to know what evidence of wrongdoing she had found on Jane Reynolds' computer. Madison was expecting him to ask at some point so the glib answer she had rehearsed rolled easily off her tongue. "Her computer had been wiped clean," she reported. "Everything was erased as if she had been expecting to be audited."

"No matter," Burke said. "Nothing is ever truly erased from a hard drive. I'll just get Albert to see what he can restore."

Madison was momentarily flustered. Having Albert Cooney drag those files back from oblivion would be worse than having them remain in Jane Reynolds' possession. Not only would Albert see her dirty pictures but he'd undoubtedly turn them over to Horace Burke. For a moment, she was speechless as thoughts tumbled helter-skelter through her mind.

On the other end of the line Burke was grinning broadly knowing the turmoil Madison was feeling. The more she panicked, the more she'd be willing to do to keep her head above water. He could almost see her squirming.

"I really don't think that's a good idea Mr. Burke. Having Albert do it will surely send a message that we are onto something."

"Well, that's a risk we'll have to take if we want to find out what's on that hard drive."

"Hmmm...I was wondering...My husband Peter teaches computer sciences. He could do it discreetly without anyone being the wiser," she offered, hoping she sounded sincere.

"Well, that's an interesting thought. Regrettably, risking the questionable optics of giving an outsider access to confidential HR information doesn't really appeal to me," Burke hedged, purposely cranking up Madison's anxiety level.

"He's very prudent where confidentiality is an issue. There would be no leaks with Peter whereas someone seeing Albert poking around on her computer could cause tongues in the department to wag."

"That's probably true. Let me think about it. Come up to my office before you leave and we can discuss this further."

Twenty minutes later, a freshly groomed Madison tapped on the oak door that led to Burke's private office. She wanted the CEO to see her at her best and she had pulled out all of the stops. Freshly brushed hair and flawless makeup supported her over-all look and the two extra buttons open on her blouse were calculated eye candy. Even without the pantyhose that she'd hastily removed in the ladies' room, her tanned legs looked exceptional in her short skirt. By carefully rolling the waistband over and tucking it beneath the belt, she'd raised the hem and allowed an extra few inches of nicely toned thigh to show. She knew she looked good and if even half the stories she'd heard about Horace Burke were true he'd be eating out of her hand.

Madison was perplexed when she found he wasn't in his office. The room was empty and the door ajar, but no Horace Burke sitting behind the desk. Not wanting to be seen hanging around waiting, she slipped inside and closed the door. The couch seemed the appropriate place to sit and wait and she squeezed past the large coffee table and sank into the upholstered softness. A single sheet of paper was conspicuously folded in half and stood up like a tent on the glass top in front of her and after a few seconds her eyes focused on it.

"Back in a few minutes. Having a drink with Jane Reynolds at the Chanticleer and we will be along shortly."

Madison was devastated. She could think of no circumstance that would put Jane and Horace Burke together that could possibly benefit her. She thought of the blowjob she'd given the CEO not twenty-four hours before in the hope of winning his support. Surely, his offer to help her had not been a ploy, or worse, some sort of evil plot or collusion between him and Jane Reynolds.

Time ticked by and Madison was tempted to leave. The prospect of facing Burke had been daunting enough but, if he was indeed plotting with Jane, the outlook was now terrifying.

Two or three times she stood to make her escape but sat down again when she reminded herself that Jane's cache of blackmail photos had been erased from her machine and the spare CDs were destroyed. That was some consolation. There would undoubtedly be a confrontation over it but Madison felt confident that she had gained the upper hand; provided that "Having a drink with Jane Reynolds at the Chanticleer..." didn't mean any more than just that. She paced for a bit, eventually coming to rest in Horace Burke's big chair where she toyed with the wireless mouse to his computer. The movement prompted the monitor to come to life and she stared at the rows of icons that populated the desktop.

She'd already gone too far and she knew it but one particular folder caught her eye and she clicked on it. Microsoft Word took a moment booting up but then Madison found herself looking at a list of names in bold face that she recognized. Most were Director's wives and employees. All had notations beside their names and cryptic notes that described particular talents and even a few fetishes that Madison would never have expected.

Madison was relieved that there was nothing in the file for Jane that would imply a relationship. Relief from that concern was soon forgotten when she spotted her own name with an obscene happy face avatar beside it enthusiastically sucking a disembodied cartoon cock. The text below left no doubt as to the depth of Mr. Burke's interest in her. The discussion of her physical attributes was disconcerting enough but Burke had cut and pasted the dirty remarks and speculation of a number of the upper management group as well. Her eye scanned down the page past the crude jokes and comments to a highlighted section that proved to be a complete graphic description of what she had done for him in the Escalade. It also confirmed that their morning encounter had not been as random as it seemed.

Where Madison thought she had been the initiator, the text beside her name made it clear that Horace Burke had been following his own plan. Particularly disconcerting was the brash confidence that laced Burke's critique of her performance which he found only adequate. He made sneering reference to Madison's husband and mocked her willingness to cheat on him without compunction.

By the time Madison had finished reading and rereading each entry beside her name she was thoroughly humiliated. Bad enough to read a written record of her slutty behavior but to be critiqued on technique, applauded for her enthusiasm and rated versus other cheating wives was degrading in the extreme. And there, cut and pasted from email and appended at the end of his own disgusting commentary were the filthy remarks of others from Burke's inner circle of senior management. She knew them all and now, thanks to Horace Burke, they knew more about her than she could ever imagine sharing with another human being.

In the midst of her mortification and heartache she became aware of someone else in the room. Burke had slipped in quietly and was standing watching her snooping on his computer, and in his estimation, feeling sorry for herself.

No words were needed to communicate the anger and frustration she was feeling. Her discreet, ladylike image, unencumbered by tawdry office liaisons lay shattered in the coarse comments of men she had to work with every day. To see herself referred to as "the little cunt" and "Peter Clarke's whore wife" was hurtful in the extreme but nothing compared to the assumptions that they would all be "humping her ass" now that Horace Burke had shown the way.

There were even comments about the butterfly that floated just above the silken cloud of her pubic hair and the bold view she would have been presenting to the tattooist as he went about his work. Madison didn't remember anything of that night but their vivid speculation painted a spectrum of filthy thoughts she would never have allowed herself to dwell upon.

"I see you've made yourself at home," Burke sniffed reproachfully, "or is my computer on your list of suspects as well?"

The monitor faded to dark as Madison sat trembling in front of it waiting for a tirade of recrimination from the powerful CEO of Portland Enterprises. A week ago Horace Burke controlled her path within his corporate domain. Now he gleefully held the keys to every important aspect of her life. In an effort to control Jane Reynolds, Madison had fallen far deeper under the influence of a cabal of powerful men who were fully expecting to share her with Horace Burke.

Instead of the overwhelming anger and indignation that Madison should have been feeling, and would have felt just days before, she found herself apologizing. While Burke glared coldly over the top of his wire-rimmed glasses she was lamely trying to explain that "she hadn't meant to snoop," when it was obvious that was exactly what she had intended.

Burke was quite prepared to let her assume the role of the guilty party. He enjoyed seeing the proud little bitch grovel. "So... You said on the phone that you couldn't find what you were looking for on Jane's computer?"

"Yes. No... I mean there wasn't anything left. She must have had erased it all." A cold smile slowly took over the boss's face. He kept Madison fixed in his stare until she began to feel uncomfortable and looked away. "If there is anything that is still retrievable, I'm sure Peter will be able to find it." She offered.

"And if not, I have a spare download of her entire hard drive," he announced.

The news was like a punch in the gut to Madison. Anxiety welled inside of her threatening to overpower her outward composure. "Peter can check them both. If there is anything at all on them he'll find it. He'll know what to look for," she assured.

"Of course he will. He's seen it all before hasn't he?" Horace Burke was grinning broadly now, pleased with himself that he had Madison in near panic. Her eyes told the story as they always did. Behind them her mind was scrambling desperately for some reassurance that he was not alluding to anything more than evidence of Jane Reynolds misappropriating from the company.

For what seemed like an eternity, they stared at each other; he waiting for her rational mind to acknowledge what he was hinting at; and she wanting confirmation that his broad hints were not paranoia getting the better of her tortured imagination.

With deliberate slowness Burke reached over and undid a button on Madison's blouse. "I'd like to see it again myself," he grinned, removing any doubt about what he'd been insinuating. Madison's hand went instinctively to stop him but he was already turning toward the couch. "Take everything off and fold your clothes on top of the credenza," he ordered. "And be quick. I have tickets to the Antoinne/Morley fight tonight and I don't want to miss a fucking minute of it."

He settled comfortably onto the couch and watched the young wife disrobe. There was no point in her objecting. They both knew it. Horace Burke always got what he wanted and, at the moment, he wanted a piece of ass.

The deep pink color that painted across her cheeks spread lower onto her chest as she carefully folded the blouse and put it on his credenza as he had told her to do. Perhaps it was because he was an older man, but it seemed especially humiliating to have him just sitting there watching as she took off her clothes.

Her bra was next and, as it slipped over her arms, he told her to turn and "hold your tits up for me." She did, fingering the nipples on demand until they were like two spongy corks that danced on lovely, swaying breasts while she disrobed. Her blue boy-cut panties were new and expensive, practical and comfortable, but not overly sexy. Embarrassed, she hoped he wouldn't notice the cloth darkening between her legs where she had begun to get wet.