Risk Versus Reward Ch. 21


Author’s Note

Risk Versus Reward is a prequel to Girl Friday and focuses on the story of Karin, the ‘H.R. Lady’ who provided Charlotte’s rather unique interview experience when she was hired. You do not need to read Girl Friday to understand what’s going on in Risk Versus Reward. But if you enjoy this story, Girl Friday should most definitely be on your reading list.

Karin’s made up her mind. In the last chapter of the story she let Betty Nguyen add her photo to the album of ‘nipples I have pierced’, figuratively speaking, as she sat in Elena’s kitchen to be run through with a ring that matches Desi’s. Now all that is left is to tie up loose ends as the ladies figure out their future together.

If you’ve read Girl Friday, the events in this chapter should feel very familiar.

I hope you enjoy Karin’s continuing story.



Chapter 21: The Big Day

I shifted the pencil holder from the center of the desk all the way to the far left corner, stared at it for a total of about thirty seconds and then moved it all the way over to the right. I took a quick look around the office, devoid of any furnishings except for a high-backed black office chair from Ikea — I can’t remember the exact model name, something with a lot of umlauts — and this beautiful and exceptionally heavy piece of antique hardwood furniture that just got delivered from the consignment shop. I moved the pencil holder back to the center of the desk and the circle was complete.

“Des!” I hollered. “It looks pretty fucking bare in here. How’s anyone going to take us seriously when all we have is a desk?”

Desi wandered in from the lobby wearing jeans and a vintage Nirvana concert t-shirt, filling it out quite obviously without the benefit of a bra, because I could see the outline of her nipple ring poking up through the silk-screened mop that was Kurt Cobain’s hair. She took a swig from the can of Diet Coke in her hand before setting it on the corner of the desk — the place occupied by the pencil holder only moments ago.

“They’re going to take us seriously because you’re going to convince them that we’re serious. It’s all attitude, baby. Chutzpah. And if there’s anyone who knows anything about chutzpah, it’s you. I mean look at this dress you poured yourself into.” She trailed a finger over my bare arm while she licked her lips. “You’ll have them eating out of your hand.”

While I still felt goose-flesh rising in the wake of her fingertip, Desi took my hands and pulled me close enough to brush her lips lightly over the inside of my wrist while she ran her tongue slowly over my upturned palm. As long as we’ve known each other she still finds new ways to give me shivers when she touches me.

“Hell,” she whispered, “I know I’d eat out of your hand — or anyplace else if you asked me to eat from.”

I smiled. The way Desi talked about me I almost believed it — that I could summon the chutzpuh needed for our big day, our grand opening, our first real potential customers — but deep down I was quaking in my shoes. This was a big risk we were taking together, striking out on our own, starting our own little version of The Academy on a shoestring budget. If everything worked out like we planned, it would be a beautiful enterprise, but if it didn’t — well, I didn’t even want to entertain that possibility.

I picked up Desi’s Coke can and thrust it in her direction. “Not on my hardwood desk, baby,” I said.

Desi stuck her tongue out at me as she plucked the can from the desktop.

“Promise?” I said. I was seriously considering sticking my tongue down her throat and laying her beautiful body down to give the new desk a proper test run. I tend to channel my nervous energy into my sex drive when I get anxious and this seemed like as good a time as any, but as luck would have it my pervy train of thought was interrupted by the chime of our front door.

“Oh shit,” Desi said, “Betty’s early.”

“And apparently locked out.” I felt my shoulders tense. Not exactly the best way to start a grand opening. “I thought you gave her a keycard.”

We both trotted out to the lobby fully expecting to see our favorite mistress impatiently standing along with a group of frowning domme clients just on the other side of the full-length glass door. I even imagined her swishing that riding crop back and forth, stirrng the air around her ankles while she waited for us to open the lock and let her in.

We came face-to-face with the building manager instead, with her dark-green dyed mohawk and colorful tattoos peeking out from under rolled up shirt sleeves. She was accompanied by a moving dolly full of packages. “Been collecting these in the mail room,” she said while chomping on a wad of gum. “Waitin’ for y’all to get moved in. There’s enough of ’em stacked up that I think the UPS guy’s nervous this is some kind of front for stolen merchandise.”

“Thank you,” I said as Desi and I began unloading the boxes. mardin escort “And I promise you, no criminal intent here.”

“Just teasing, Sugar.” The building manager blew a good-sized bubble and popped it before resuming. “None of my business what you ladies do up in here so long as the rent check clears.”

“Well, thank goodness for that,” I said, “’cause we’re up to some pretty shady stuff here. But I promise we’ll do our best not to leave any body parts sticking out of the dumpster on trash day.” I even managed to say the whole thing without grinning.

“Hmph,” she said, probably trying to figure out if I was serious or not. “Make sure you bring the cart back down to the mail room where it belongs.” She chomped her gum a few more times, and left.

Desi reached over and smacked me on the shoulder.

“Listen, bitch,” I said, trying to look stern.

“Three hours. Three hours we’ve been tenants in this building and already you’re getting us in trouble.”

“It’s my chutzpah showing through.” I smiled.

Desi’s next smack landed on my backside. “Chutzpah my ass,” she said. “You’re nervous aren’t you?”

“Am not.”

“Can’t fool me, honey. You always get cheeky and over-sexed when you’re all keyed up.” Desi wrapped her arms around my waist and pulled me over for a hug. I heaved a sigh and buried my head in her shoulder.

“What if I fuck up, Des?” I mumbled into her sleave. “I mean these are potential customers, right? What if I do something stupid and mess it all up for us.”

“You’re not going to mess up, OK? You’re going to be amazing.” She placed her hands firmly on my shoulders and held me at arms length. “Come on, let’s open some of these packages. Take your mind off things. Mellow you out a little bit.”

Desi plucked a small rectangular box from the stack. “Here’s one from a Miss Saffron Moon Smith.”

“Miss Smith? Her middle name is Moon?”

“Really? Are you surprised? Open it.”

I peeled back the shipping tape and pulled at the flaps. “Body paints, Des. A whole assortment. And a card. ‘Best of luck girls and keep the creativity flowing.'”

“Does it really say flowing?”

I just smiled and handed her the bottle of glitter. “You open the next one, Des.”

She plucked a long box from the pile and ripped into it. “Umbrellas?” she said and flipped over the card. “Oh, it’s from Jordan and Shauna. ‘We heard it rains a lot in the Northwest. Knock ’em dead babes!’


I started to open one of the umbrellas, but Desi slapped my hand and told me it was bad luck to open it indoors. She handed me another box instead.

“It’s addressed to you,” she said, “and it’s got a return address of London, England. Now who do we know in London?”

Desi was grinning and it was infectious. I knew exactly one person who now lived in London, a certain headmistress who had left The Academy shortly after I did, to take a position overseeing an all-girl’s school in Westminster. I tore at the tape and yanked the cardboard flaps open only to reveal another package on the inside, however this one was elegantly wrapped in pale yellow paper and secured with a white lace bow. There was a small white envelope with M & S, Est. 1884 printed on it. I tore into it to reveal the card inside.

‘My Dearest Karin, I trust that this card will find you well. Please accept this small token of my affection and know that I wish you all of the luck in the world on your latest endeavor. With Love, Claudia Hendricks.’

I passed the card to Desi and began peeling back a corner of the wrapping paper. When I had pulled enough off that I could see what was inside I smiled. It all made perfect sense. Miss Hendricks had sent me five pairs of silk thigh-high stockings, three black and two white. They were all the kind with the seam up the back, just like the ones she was so fond of wearing.

“Sexy,” Desi purred.

“This is too good to pass up. I’ve got to put them on.”

“I don’t want to rush you, baby, but they’re gonna be here any minute.”

“I know.” I pulled out a package of black ones and carefully opened it up while Desi started clearing away our mess. No sooner had I kicked off my shoes than I heard the front door chime again, and this time it was accompanied by a click of the electronic lock and a murmur of voices. This was it, we were on. I swallowed hard and took a last pass over my new stockings to smooth them out.

* * *

“We’re still getting settled into our new space,” Betty was explaining to a small knot of serious-looking women, all dressed to kill in a mix of tailored suits and designer dresses, with each individual outfit looking like it cost quite a few dollars more than our second-hand desk and umlauted chair combined.

Damn if Betty didn’t look good too. I glanced over at Desi’s slack jaw and knew she felt the same way. Our lovely Mistress Nguyen had apparently bought herself a new suit and waited until now to show it off. The understated charcoal gray marmaris escort color brought out the warm olive tones of her skin in a way that made me salivate just a little, and that, combined with the fact that she wasn’t wearing anything under the single-breasted jacket was definitely not helping.

“If a picture is worth a thousand words,” Betty continued, “then a demonstration must be worth twice that. And we have got a little show lined up today that I definitely think you’ll like.”

She was pouring on the charm, I’ll give her that. One or two of these serious-looking dames looked like they might even crack a smile. I wasn’t smiling. I was chewing my lip and thinking about guard-dragons — thinking about how if Betty would lean forward just a bit more they might make an appearance. I felt a twinge down below and I wondered if I was staining my brand new thigh-highs. I always get horny when I’m nervous.

“My girls would like to take you through a little role-playing exercise to illustrate our unique interview process. Karin is my Human Resources director and will be conducting the interview.” Betty had her hand on my shoulder and she was trying hard not to stare at my stockings, I could tell.

Her reassuring touch coupled with the fact that she was basically undressing me with her eyes in front of all these women was giving me the boost I needed. I straightened up my posture, lifted my chin, and began to embrace my role as Karin the HR director. And as Betty explained that Desi would be playing the part of the open-minded college student looking for a little extra spending cash and who was fairly flexible about how she got it, I had fully taken on my new persona.

“I assume you’re here about the employment ad,” I said with my best air of nonchalance.

“Um, yes?”

Desi had thrust her hands into the pockets of her jeans and was nibbling her lower lip. She was slipping into her role too and it was kind of sexy to see my typically outgoing girlfriend acting all coy and indecisive. I saw a couple of the women in Betty’s group begin to perk up. Apparently they liked their girls shy and hesitant too.

“You may address me as ma’am.” I said.

“Yes … ma’am.”

“Do you like my stockings?” I said.

“Um …” Desi trailed off, playing it perfectly.

All eyes were on our little show now and I felt my confidence surge, because I knew we had them hooked. All we had to do was reel them in. And I got the pleasure of role-playing with Desi as I did it. Oh, this was starting to get fun.

“You’ve been staring at my legs since you walked in, so I figure you either like my stockings or you like my legs. Which is it?”


“It’s a simple question really. Do you like my stockings or do you like my legs?”

I thought about Headmistress Hendricks as I pulled out the desk chair and hoisted my foot on it so that I could begin rolling one of the sexy silky stockings down to expose my bare thigh. Her gift could not have been any more perfect, and I vowed to send her a nice snapshot of me wearing her present, probably taken from a low angle to capture the fact that I wasn’t wearing any underwear. I figured she would appreciate that. But later, after the interview, when I could relax a little.

I pulled Desi’s hands out of her pockets and placed one on each of my thighs. “Which one turns you on? Is it the stocking-clad side, or is it my bare skin?”

There was not a single eye in the group that was not glued to Desi’s hands on my legs at that very moment. This was almost too easy.

“Um,” Desi said, “it’s your legs, ma’am. They’re very nice.”

“I appreciate your honesty. You may kiss one.”


“You may kiss one of my legs.” I waved my hand in the air about the side of my head. “Stocking side or skin side, your choice, but do it quickly. You’re not the only girl interviewing here today, you know.”

I just kind of made that up on the spot about the competition for the honor of kissing my thighs. I suppose I can thank Doctor Moreau for teaching me that little bit of manipulative behavior.

“Did you enjoy that?” I asked as Desi’s lips made contact with my skin. I didn’t wait for her to answer. “Oh, of course you did. I can see your nipples standing up and begging for attention. Take off your shirt.”


“Do you want the job or not? Now take off your shirt or find the door.”

This was even more fun than our practice run. Maybe it was the audience, or maybe it was the way Desi was really playing up the deer in the headlights aspect of her character as she slowly peeled off her concert t-shirt and held it loosely in her hand while staring at her feet.

“Nice,” I said as I cupped her breasts. “What size?”

“Um … thirty-six C, ma’am.”

Desi’s nipples were taut and crinkled under my palms and I felt myself flush just a bit. It was going to be really tough to continue our mock interview instead of just laying her out over the desk nevşehir escort so I could fuck the stuffing out of her. She was just so adorably demure.

“That’s a lovely size …” I paused and picked up a blank sheet of paper from the desk and scanned it as if I were reading her employment application. “Desirée, is it?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I see you have a nipple ring, Desirée.” I flicked it back and forth a couple times with my finger. “Would you say that makes you a kinky girl?”

“Um, I — I really don’t know, ma’am.”

“Let’s have you shimmy out of those jeans and bend over my desk so we can find out, shall we?”

Desi stared at me for a moment. If I didn’t know better I would think that maybe she was just a little bit shy about taking her pants off while a bunch of horny women arranged in a semi-circle around us, all ogling Desi’s topless form and practically drooling on themselves.

“Um — yes, ma’am.”

“That’s a good girl.” I watched her slide her jeans down until they were a puddle around her ankles.

“Shave or wax?” I asked even though I already knew the answer. This was more about the show for the clientele, the women we were hoping to have signing up for our services in droves.


“Very nice.” I slipped a finger over Desi’s folds to tease her just a bit before plunging it in. “Very nice indeed. Our clients appreciate a girl who keeps herself well groomed.”

I pistoned my finger in and out a few times while I enjoyed the nice warm pussy-hug that Desi was giving me, not to mention the panting that was beginning to escape her lips. It really was going to take all of my concentration to get through this.

I began to wish that I’d had the foresight to stock the desk with one or two of Betty’s monstrous strap-ons that Desi was so fond of being impaled upon. I could really go for that kind of energy release right about now, but as I looked around at the hungry faces of the dommes around us I was a little afraid that I might be expected to share Desi’s treasures, and that was a little beyond the scope of the demonstration. So I pulled my fingers out and slapped Desi hard across that beautiful heart-shaped ass of hers.

“The job is yours if you want it.” I dangled my finger, still thoroughly coated with Desi-juice in front of her face. For a moment you could have heard a pin drop it was so deathly quite in that office. And then as Desi started slurping I heard a few lusty sighs escape.

“Be here at nine o’clock sharp on Monday morning. I do not look kindly upon tardiness.” I slapped Desi hard across the ass one more time and turned on my heel to stride out the door.

I didn’t even try to suppress my grin as I ducked around the corner, out of sight but still within earshot as I listened to the murmurs of the group increasing. Betty was still explaining the rest of the tour, but I knew now that we had them hooked — the Karin and Desi show excels at that — they were ready to sign. The rest of the tour was just gravy.

“If you’ll all follow me please, we are very fortunate in that we have a massage therapy office right next door.” Betty’s voice was trailing off as she led the group through the lobby. “These ladies run an above the board business and will teach your girls how to ease the tension right out of places you didn’t even know you had it. They’ll also make sure your girls know how to end a massage on a happy note, if you take my meaning, and are quite willing to demonstrate that technique for you today.”

The muted murmur died down gradually until I heard the front door click shut. Knowing the group had departed, I trotted in to check on Desi. She was still laid out over the big hardwood desk, pants puddled around her ankles and a big stupid grin on her face.

“The fucked and abandoned look is so you, Des.”

“Shut up Karin.”

I snickered. “If you ask real nice I might finish the job.”


I walked over and slapped her ass again. Desi moaned. She was still a little pink from last time, but her skin had cooled considerably after basically lounging around on my desk for the past five or ten minute. I was still horny as fuck.

“Please what?”

“Um, please ma’am?”

“That’s better.” I slammed two fingers into her dripping folds and knelt down behind her to bury my tongue right in the crack of her beautiful heart-shaped ass. That girl gets plowed regularly enough that she keeps herself nice and clean, so I got nothing more than the scent of hot tangy pussy juice as I buried my tongue and began to swirl around inside.

Desi arched her back and let out a little squeak as I rubbed my fingers firmly over her favorite spot. I wanted to ask her if she was enjoying my technique, but we were under a bit of a time constraint and didn’t have the luxury of idle chit-chat. Besides, I’ve been told that it’s not polite to talk with my mouth full.

That thought made me grin, and I pistoned my fingers a little harder. Desi’s previous little squeak was quickly growing in both pitch and intensity and I began to get the thought that maybe letting her simmer on my desk for a while was a good idea. A few minutes of denial seems to have increased her cravings ten-fold, and she bucked and squeezed against my fingers.

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