The Mistress

Rating: T

Summary: Freddie meets with his mistress, to discuss their plans for the future.

"Sinclair, you need to make sure they know just how much money they have saved. Yes, our fee was 3.5 million higher than their previous counsel, but we estimated our ability to close cases before court saved them nearly 11 million in 2024 than those useless ambulance chasers did in '23."

"Yes sir. I'll make that clear to them. I won't disappoint you."

"Good. I'm trusting you with this, I know you won't let the firm down.

The line clicked and went dead. When the phone buzzed again. I pushed the little blinking button, static filled the room, followed by my assistants voice.

"Mr Benson, I have a letter here for you. I wonder why it came so late?" My assistant, Miss McDonald informed me. She was fresh out of law school, but seemed bright enough. A couple more years with me, and she'd be assigned to one of the various departments, Workplace Relations, Taxation, Litigation, Corporate, Finance, Criminal Defense or Intellectual Property and Information Technology.

"Bring it in."

I could remember her first day. "I know that Chang, Poole and Schmidt is a full service firm, so Mr Benson, I want you to know I'm willing to perform any service you require." A cute young thing, looked good in a skirt, didn't act out that over the top feminist compensatory bullshit. I'm sure half the office would have taken her up on that offer.

"Do what I ask of you, and you'll go far."

"Yes, Mr Benson." Then she turned on her heel and walked out. True to her word, she was an exemplary employee.

I looked over the package, small, yellow, rectangular. I sheared it open with my letter opener.

The slide card to a hotel room, and a photo.


She was kneeling on the bed, wearing only black thigh-high stockings, and a see through purple camisole. Her hips flared out just so, the pink lipstick was just perfect. The look on her face was lust personified.

'I need you' was written on the back.

"Miss McDonald, I have a client to meet. Call my wife, tell her I'll be home late tonight. You can finish that letter tomorrow." I had made some personal contributions to our local political leaders, and now it was time to call in a favor. Zoning laws were easy to get around with, if you knew the right people.

I set the computer to shut down, cleaned my desk, fixed my books and reports back in their rightful place.

Myself and Miss McDonald rode down in the elevator together. "Going to have some fun tonight?"

"You know it Mr Benson."

"I bet you get the pick of the girls." It was easy to see why. She was classy, yet sexy, and smart as well.

"Always. You know how much they like that assertive, professional type."

"You still haven't let me join in, Miss McDonald."

"Just make sure I get a raise, and I'll see what I can do."

"Don't worry. I'll make sure of it. Your proposal is a bonus, your work more than qualifies. Miss McDonald, I'm going to get you a double pay bump. We want you here for a long time to come." She was one of those girls who knew the score. Which lines to cross, when to cross them, and more importantly, was extremely good at crossing them. She had fun doing it, and didn't confuse business and pleasure.

She reached down, and started rubbing me through my trousers. "It'll be a bonus for me as well, Mr Benson. Working with you is very.. stimulating."

"Now that I think about it, would you mind if I chose the other woman?"

"Your Wife, Mr Benson?" Ha. Like I'd waste that on her. I'd already asked her a few times, only to get rebuked. All I should 'need' was her.

"No." I passed over the picture of Carly.

"Hmmm, very nice. Your favorite client I'm guessing. Can I keep it?"

"Sure, as long as I get one of you to replace it."


If there was one thing I'd learned in my 30 odd years on God's green earth, it was that power and money were the ultimate aphrodisiac. When they were combined, it was irresistible, enough to make even the strongest woman weak in the knees, and cause the most outspoken men to quake in fear.

Jake was waiting tables in LA, too old now to make it big. Jonah dropped out of college, and no-one knows what the hell happened to him. I was making 6 figures, would be breaking 7 in a few years, and I could have any woman I wanted in this city.

Griffin was washing cars at a gas station for 8 bucks an hour. I took particular pleasure in ruining his life. He'd charmed his way back into Carly's life, then into her pants, taken her virginity, then dumped her. Carly and Sam didn't believe me when I said I'd make him pay. When I finally got a hold of him, alone, in the alley behind the Plaza. He laughed. Sure. He was bigger, stronger. But I was quicker, and I was filled with pure rage.

As he lay bleeding, crumpled in the dirt, he swore revenge. This time I was the one laughing. Unbeknown to me, Carly had heard the commotion, and seen the whole fight. That was the moment she realized I wasn't just talking bullshit. That I meant everything I told her.

That wasn't a pleasure for me though. That was just repaying some of the hurt he'd caused Carly. My Carly. The pleasure was using my clients, contacts, my will and desire, to see him fired, arrested, put in jail, rejected for parole. Thrown back and forth in 'the system' so badly he was lucky to get any job at all. He couldn't get any lower without dying, and he'd never get any higher. The best part was he'll never know.

The elevator dinged, opened up and she strode off into the night. I left a floor later, and walked over to my car. A black V-12 Merc coupe, a gift from one of my special clients. I called her on the way, to tell her I'd be there in 5 minutes. The car glided to a halt outside the hotel 4 minutes later. I chucked the keys to the valet, along with a $50. He thanked me, and I kept on going inside.

Room 1742.

I slid the card into the lock, having to do it twice before it turned green, and I opened the door. I could smell her scent. When I finally entered the room, it was like the picture come to life. Black stockings. Her long dark hair cascading around her. Silently, I strutted over to the bed, my eyes fixed upon hers, as I discarded my tie, shirt, pants and underwear onto the floor beside my shoes.

I lowered myself onto the bed, and removed her camisole. "Keep the stockings on." I grunted, before crashing my lips on hers.

"Whatever you say Freddie."

"They call me Mr Benson."

"Luckily they aren't me."

"You are damn right about that Shay."

And I made love to her.

2 hours later, I heard a knock on the door. I ravished Carly's neck, took my hands out from between her legs, and stepped out of the shower despite her cries of protest. Putting on my robe, I left the bathroom. I grabbed the bottle, tipped the worker, who gave me a knowing wink. I grinned, and shut the door behind me.

I reclined back on the bed, as Carly padded back into the room wearing a pink robe.

"Drink?" I held out the bottle, and 2 glasses.


"Are you ready to come back for good now?"

"Yes." Just when I thought I had her, Carly had run off, claiming that I couldn't give her the adventure, the thrill that she needed. I knew she'd come back eventually. They always did. All they got was one more night. But Carly was special, different. We both knew that.

"Good. I don't know if I could keep up the charade for much longer." I was sick of running around, it wasn't exactly a secret, but in this town, and this profession, not much was.

"When are you going to divorce her?"

I laughed, "The papers will be drawn up in weeks. She signed a pre-nup, in California no less, without a cheating clause. I'll make sure she isn't homeless though." I have to admit it was useful for a time. Being married showed commitment, and that was always desirable.

"I'm sorry for leaving." Carly had married a drug addled musician, whilst I was starting on the lowest rung on the corporate ladder. Carly all the while was deluding herself into thinking it was real love. It didn't last.

"I know you are. Do you promise to stay?" Despite all the money, the luxuries, the car, the house, the wife, the job, I was missing what I craved the most, ever since I was teenager, and it spurred me on.

"Yes." I was comfortable in the knowledge I was under her spell.

"Then I forgive you." Ever higher, to learn, to test myself, to push ever onwards. And now. Now was the culmination.

"I love you Freddie."

"In my entire life Carly, you are the only one I love. I promise you." I stuck the bottle back in it's bucket, put the glasses on the bedside table. I slowly undid the knot on her robe, and made love to her again.


I stumbled out of the car, wandered up to my house, and pushed through the front door. Most of the house was dark, but I quickly adjusted, and soon entered my bedroom, my wife sitting up and reading a book.

"They can't keep you back this late, it's not fair. Especially around Christmas," Here we go again. Most of the time it was real work. She cried about how I spent time with clients. Like it was some big boys club, that I didn't have to watch every word I said.

"They paid for this house, your car, all the other crap, so they can keep me back this late whenever they want. And it's only December 10th." I had to constantly probe for opportunity. To see their weakness, and to show them where I could help them. It was draining.

I took off my shirt, tie and pants, and slid into bed.

"Are you drunk?" No. Being with Carly was better than being drunk. I never got drunk with Carly, all that did was dull my senses.

"I wouldn't have driven home if I was drunk. I had to deal with the Japanese, you know how they are, it's all sake and karaoke. It's late, I'm tired, I'm going to sleep."

I put my head on the pillow, and turned my back to her.

"I miss you. All this late work is killing me. I love you Freddie " She kissed the back of my head, turned off the light, and turned away herself.

"I love you too, Melanie." Sam was right. Eventually you feel nothing at all.


AN: I've had some insane writers block lately. I've got a few stories half-written, the next chapter in my multi-chap story half written. I should have another one-shot finished soon.