She stood up, and was still shaking, but offered him a wan smile. She shimmied in her skirt until it was down past her thighs again. He bent, picked up her panties, and put them in his pocket where the other ones were, without even offering to give them back to her. She didn't seem like she noticed.
After he fucked he always had to piss. Before he put his dick back in his pants he relived himself of some of the wine he had consumed that night and she stepped quickly out of the way so that he didn't splash her. Somewhere in the struggle she has lost one of her shoes and the quick motion unbalanced her and she fell against the car.
"Hey, stop that," he yelled, angry that she may scratch the paint. He finished urinating and stuffed his cock back in his pants, zipped up and walked over to inspect if there was any damage.
"I'm sorry," she said quickly. It was ludicrous to think that she was apologizing to him but it just kind of came out before she could get a handle on it. Her whole world was jumbled up and words were coming out of her mouth and she was more than a little bit drunk and she was having trouble putting it all together.
"Come on, it's time to go," he said a little bit gruffly. "I have to be up early in the morning."
She hobbled around the car to the passenger's door as fast as she would on the old gravel driveway while wearing only one shoe. She had liked this pair of shoes, but didn't bother looking for the one she had lost. She knew instinctively that she would never wear anything she had on tonight, ever again.
Chuck had gotten off and was essentially done with the bitch. He was glad she had stopped crying and was not trying to make conversation. He had gone on to other things in his head and there was something bothering him. Driving her back home had been an unwanted chore, but he had done it anyway. She had been a good sport about everything.
When they got to her dorm, he pulled out his money clip and handed her another US$200. She took it a bit skittishly and crumpled it in her hand. "You were great baby," he told her. "A real good sport. I'll call you some time. After all, I never even got to see those tits." He smiled at her and touched her chin with his knuckle like Sylvester Stallone. She hurried out the car and into the dorm. He was a little miffed she didn't say thank you. That's okay, he thought. Next time we go out, I'll teach her some manners.
He laughed a bit to himself and started home. He was anxious to get off campus before any police pulled him over and asked him how much he had had to drink.
That night Chuck slept like a log. He was exhausted, and on top of that the wine and the mind blowing sex had done him in. But the moment he woke up, there was one thought in his mind: It was too much money.
It had first come to him when Walter was showing off his new boat, and ever since then it has been tickling the back of his mind. He had never seen it before because in security the money flowed in like water over rocks. But this was just too much. The giant house, new boat, landscaping, private school, exotic vacations... It all adds up over time and none of the other executives of the company seemed to be living that large. Could it be that they just hid it better?
That was the thought that kept him awake for the next two nights. He stared at his celling and tried to work out the numbers. They just didn't add up. On the third morning he got up, went to work before anyone else was there and started pulling paperwork he was not supposed to have access to.
To understand how this was done, you have to understand my business. It's a business that thrives on a lack of paper trails and receipts. Customers frequently use couriers to pay large bills with cash. Numbered bank accounts and transfers that are routed through more than one country and holding company are not uncommon. Don't think of these things as attempts to hide criminal activity, which is what most people think, rather they are trying to hide wealth. For the truly wealthy of the world, the people that need the kind of protection we offer, their biggest fear is not the Income Tax Returns but their competition knowing exactly how much they are worth. Money is power and their safety is tied directly to disguising that wealth. It keeps everyone guessing. It's even more true for major corporations.
And somewhere in all of the bank transfers, currency exchanges and cash deals, Walter had found a way not to so much divert a few drips into his bank account, but to funnel a whole revenue stream there.
Of course, just figuring it out wasn't enough. He also had to figure out where the money came from, how it was diverted and how much of it there was. Because of the nature of the business, there are usually strict checks and balances in place. But through a fluke of circumstance, one of the founding partners had died, and his replacement was never informed about all of the checks in place. The end result was a microscopic loophole that Walter had been exploiting to the tune of nearly US$300,000. That, combined with his already inflated salary had allowed him to live the high life. But that was all coming to an end.