Kayla rapped lightly on the thickly padded door and then opened it a few inches to look inside. She smiled brightly towards the desk. "You wanted to see the Rothstein file, Colin?"

He motioned her in and she pushed the door open and moved through on long legs.

"Shut the door," he said.

She closed the door and started forward, file in hand, eyes glancing only briefly around the familiar room. It was a corner office. Colin Forrest was one of the firm's most powerful partners, and the office spoke of the money and power Kayla had coveted much of her life.

She had focused on that since her teen years, jammed into a tiny two bedroom apartment with her mother and two sisters, paint peeling off the wall, and cockroaches scuttling across the floors. She had been willing to sleep with teachers in high school to increase her grades, slept with a judge on a scholarship board, and slept with several more teachers in college to get top marks.

Her body, after all, had been her only coin, and she had known it for a very long time. Oh, she was smart enough to get through law school, sure, but not to get the top marks she needed to get into a firm like Harrold Milkin.

There were eight hundred lawyers here, including twelve senior and sixty two junior partners. She intended to crawl out of the mass of 'associates' by any means, hook or crook, and she had immediately focused on the handsome Colin Forrest, tall, athletic, exuding power and authority, and married to a shrewish ice queen.

She had fantasies of something more deep between them, of perhaps becoming Mrs Forest someday, but recognized they were unrealistic. Forest wasn't going to marry some nobody associate from rural California who was half his age. Such marriages didn't go over well with the stodgy senior board.

That didn't mean she couldn't use her body, couldn't use him, as she had other men in the past, couldn't be his mistress and get a lot of what she wanted that way, including some surprisingly good sex.

He looked up as she reached the enormous desk and she felt a quaver in her belly. He wasn't happy about something, and she dearly hoped it wasn't her.

"Take off your clothes," he said abruptly.

Her jaw dropped a little, and she glanced uncertainly over her shoulder. "Do you think that's wise here, Colin? I mean - ."

"Now," he said.

She turned towards the door.

"Where are you going?" he snapped.

She turned her head in surprise. "I was going to lock - ."

"Don't worry about the door," he growled.

He was definitely pissed, and she was starting to think it might be her after all, her mind swirling frantically as she tried to figure out what she'd done that might have upset him. She glanced uneasily at the door, wishing she'd locked it on entry. Not many people would open it without knocking and getting permission but even so, imagine if they found her in here naked!

Kayla put a lot of money into her wardrobe, more than she could afford. It was absolutely necessary to have the right image, and unlike many of the other associates she didn't come from a family with money. It was also necessary to walk a very fine line between dressing sexy, but without appearing to be doing so. Short skirts and cleavage were right out in a place like this, after all.

Her blonde hair was expensively cut, and perfectly straight, parted in the middle to flow like cut silk down around her lovely face and over the light green of her tailored Armani jacket. She slipped that jacket off, now, and folded it over the back of one of Colin's leather visitors chairs.

"Is something wrong?" she asked.

He wasn't even looking up at her, but at his computer screen. He made a non-committal grunt and she nervously began to unbutton her silk blouse. There was an art to undressing before a man, but it seemed a waste of time if he wouldn't even look. She unbuttoned the forest green blouse, pulled it out of her skirt and folded it over the jacket.

She unzipped the skirt and slid it down her long lefts, stepping out of it to stand there in stiletto heeled black boots, black thong and bra, but he still wasn't looking. She frowned uneasily. In her experience, men tended to lose their anger at her if they just looked at her enough, and she was 'nice' enough to them.

"Uhm, the boots too?" she asked.

He glanced up at her briefly.

"Keep them on."

She felt a bit of relief at that. She looked fantastic in the boots, and if she could divert him with sex he should be willing to forgive whatever had upset him. Of course, it still might not be her, but he was acting more than slightly rude and overbearing, and that wasn't like him at all.

She tried to think of what she might have done to anger him as she slipped off her bra and let her full breasts spill out into the light. Not that they spilled far. She worked very hard to keep her body firm and fit and toned. It was so useful in her career, after all. It would be foolish to let it get soft.

Her breasts were too big to not exercise, either. They'd start to sag in a few years if she didn't. So she worked especially hard on her chest muscles, as well as on toning her already perfectly flat belly, and her lovely round bottom. She knew their value, and despite her relatively well-paid job now, they were still among her most valuable assets.

She slipped her tiny black thong down her long legs and stepped carefully out of them, glancing nervously at the door again. She was confident of her body, proud of it, really, and it was always an ego trip to have the men fawning over her, even before they saw much of it.

Colin wasn't fawning, however.

"Lean forward across the desk," he said, looking at her at last. "Prop yourself on your elbows."

She smiled tentatively and obeyed.

"Keep your legs straight and your ass high."

She felt a small quiver of heat in her lower belly at the order. There was something about him, something about how masterful he was, how commanding he was. Kayla had never especially liked men, nor had she ever really enjoyed much of the sex she used as currency. But the aura of power around Colin made sex into something very strange and different.

"Don't let your tits touch the desk," he said.

She flinched, for he was being crude, and he was not a crude man. So he was being deliberately crude to her, but why? What could he have found out? She had definitely not told anyone about them. Yes, she had done her best to undercut any other associates any time she possibly could, but he surely couldn't be unhappy about that, even if he found out.

You didn't get ahead in this place by being nice, by being weak, by being accommodating. You got ahead by being a real bastard - or bitch, and stomping on everyone else on your way up. And she had found she had a pronounced skill and taste for that.

"Let them hang there so the nipples are just above the desk," he ordered.