The veins in his hands contracted as his fingers squeezed my throat, applying enough pressure, resulting in my pussy squeezing tighter than his hand and my head lolling back.
"Look at me, Valentina," his gruff voice commanded. He stopped for a secon...
"You are overreacting, bambina," my father said gruffly, annoyed with my defiance. (Child.)
Perplexity bloomed on my facial features, and I wondered if he was joking or not. "I'm not overreacting, padre. I don't feel comfortable doing that, respect my choice." (Father.)
"Do I look like I care about your choices? What I care about is the further expansion of my business, and all I'm asking of you is to seduce, and if it comes to that, fuck the man," he stated, the aloofness in his voice clear as day.
"A man that I have never fucking met? Have you lost your shit? Get one of your whores to do that," I spoke, my voice heightening as I travelled across the room.
"I need someone experienced, plus he has a... fetish of sorts blackwomen. You're the perfect fit."
"That does not mean shit—"
"It wasn't a discussion, Valentina. I am telling you to do something, not asking. Read his file, get ready in 45 minutes, we're on a tight schedule," he ordered then stood up sliding the light brown document in my direction, "and the outfit you should wear is already chosen."
Then I was left alone with my thoughts, and my daily growing dislike of the man who helped to conceive me. Let me just get thisover with, I thought, opening the folder reluctantly.
A picture of a man who looked like someone who kidnapped kids and stared at them in his basement greeted me.
A sigh of annoyance left my lips asmy eyes skimmed over the rest of the information. I rose from the table and flung the file unto it, my chair scraping the Victorian tiles as I moved. The faster you get this over with, the faster you can go binge-watch The Originals' with Lani, I told myself, somewhat trying to convince my brain.
~~~
"—and then you get him to give you the passcodes. Clear?"
"Yes, but I still don't understand why I can't have a weapon," I bemoaned, trying to persuade him into changing his mind. But my efforts were ineffective, observing how thick-skulled he regrettably, was. "His guards will search you before you enter the V.I.P area, a gun would be too obvious. And remember you're posing as somewhat of a whore, act the part," he said quickly, "seeing as you already look the part."
My eyes narrowed slightly. "I'll take that as a compliment."
The skintight snug golden material latched on to my skin like leeches. My breasts were thrusting provocatively from the top of the dress, the thin straps making them look even bigger than they were; my cleavage dipping like a valley.
My panty-less state was quite apparent through the cuts at the side of the dress which went up to under my breasts, exposing the entirety of my legs. The black wig that adorned my head was cut in a neat bob. A pair of four-inch clear Louboutin's graced my feet, as I decided not to go with anything too tall.
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