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Title: the dog days are over
Description: penelope


CLIFFORD SMITH - February 17, 2012 06:29 PM (GMT)
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<p>Having a desk job wasn’t anything new to Clifford Smith. His whole adult life had been just one cubicle after the other – then finally a swank office with his name printed on a frosted window set in a door. That, however, had been a normal nine to five. An accounting job where all he had to do was crunch numbers, which was fine because he had always loved numbers and had quite the knack for figuring out complicated equations. Numbers weren’t difficult, they either worked or they didn’t. There was no grey area when it came to them, for all intents and purposes, they could be considered very unfeeling and unyielding. Much like the man that found them much easier to deal with than people.
<p>Balancing books was a far cry from his not-so-normal office job now. In fact, he didn’t get too much office time really when he thought about it. Only when he was putting off having to talk to an official that wasn’t human – and that was getting to be more frequent as of late. The Arcane Department Head detested having to be civil with all of the different races’ representatives although some of them seemed a little more tolerable than others. The Lady and Lord Gray were not so bad and the city leader that spoke for the Drinkers was on par with the wood dwelling beings. Mostly it was having to speak with one of the Wolf Pack chiefs, either one of them was bad enough. The beasts in question always spoke English to him but all he could hear were primitive grunts and growls that made his opinion of the Wolves dwindle even more.
<p>They were a horrid race, disgusting, filthy and as far as Cliff was concerned, dumb as a bag of hammers. He didn’t think one Wolf had enough brain cells to rub together to have a real and true thought for themselves. They were just animals. Animals that were just waiting to attack anything and everything, especially defenceless humans. They belonged deep in the woods where they should stay.
<p>Clifford had reviewed for the umpteenth time a report made that documented each sighting of a Wolf that he was particularly interested in getting his hands on. This Wolf case had been assigned to an Arcane that he thought he could trust. Cecily Anabele seemed to be an efficient worker that Clifford hadn’t had a problem with, she got her work done so he definitely got on well with her. But she really didn’t seem to be doing her job as thoroughly as he would have expected. Still absolutely no trace of the dirty fucker? Just more missing persons that had nothing to do Arcane recruiting.
<p>Instead of pulling Cecily off the case, he decided he’d give her a few more chances. She had quite over stepped the ‘three strikes you’re out’ rule yet. He just thought he might get some of the Wolf Chiefs involved; maybe ask if they had any new Wolves into their pack.
<p>Making himself seem busy, Clifford asked the first person he saw standing outside of his office to go and fetch Penelope Best. Another Arcane. He would have asked for July but he didn’t want the headache today. Penelope wouldn’t give him a lot of trouble—or he didn’t think she would. He’d find out how willing she was to do his bidding when she came to the office.
<p>After some time, long enough that Clifford almost got up from behind his desk to go see if his orders had been ignored or not, he heard a knock at his door. “Come in,” He said as he closed the folder he had open spread across his desk. “Ah, Penelope. Weren’t busy were you? I think I have a job for you.” Leaning back in his chair, he opened the top drawer to his desk and pulled out a pack of smokes. “Cigarette?”


</div><div style="padding-top:5px; width:380px; border-bottom:#111 1px dotted;"></div><div style="padding-top:25px;"</div><span style="color:#000; font-size:40px;">●</span><span style="font-family:wire one; font-size:57px; text-transform:uppercase; color:#111; text-align:center;">so you better run</span><span style="color:#000; font-size:40px;">●</span>
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PENELOPE BEST - February 18, 2012 08:08 PM (GMT)
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Since her time as an Arcane--or, well, her time officially being an Arcane, rather than just...an Arcane in waiting? How did that work anyway? She was still so confused by all of this, and for the most part just nodded at each of the things she was told.<BR><br>Anyway, since her time working for the Silver Moon Corporation, she hadn't been assigned any interesting projects. She'd met a few uh...people...creatures? Whatever. She'd met some of the residents of the Gap they were there to protect, and been to meetings with other Arcane, but those were all planned and supervised and, well frankly, boring.<br><br>Instead, she found excitement outside of her job. Since she wasn't from Plymouth, no one knew her and no one would be shocked about her reappearance in their community. She was just a girl who'd moved there after college, or something like that. She didn't even have to have a solid story for herself, as she so rarely met the same people twice, even in such a small town (at least compared to Boston). She went out to bars and parties, spending the night in a strange guy's bed, feeling the pangs of anger and jealousy and sadness from Ronnie, even through her drunkenness.<br><br>Today, however, she'd been at home. Ronnie had gone into town to shop some and Pen decided to stay at their shared house to clean her room and hang out with Rufus, their pug. She'd taken a break from the piles of clothes and the mystery of her missing underwear to take him for a walk. On her way home some office-bound Arcane came up to her and explained that Clifford Smith, her boss, wanted to see her back at the Corporation. She brought Rufus back home and released him from his harness before making sure there wasn't anything he'd eat in reach of his little mouth and paws before heading over to the building in which she'd awoken, holding Ronnie's hand, all those months ago.<bR><br>When she reached the right floor and hallway, she knocked lightly on the door to Cliff's office. She entered and took a seat across from him. <b>"Oh, no. I was just walking the dog. It takes a while sometimes cause he gets tired,"</b> she said with w shrug. Walking Rufus really was an ordeal in itself. He got tired after like, half a block and if she made him walk too quickly, especially with his short legs, he'd get even shorter on breath than he already was. In summer it was all worse, since he overheated so quickly. She had to carry a thermos of ice with her to cool him off every so often.<br><br>As he reached into a drawer, she rearranged herself in her chair, pulling her legs up and tucking them under herself. She wondered what sort of job he had for her. And why he hadn't called Ronnie in. Wasn't the whole point of their powers or whatever so that they could enter dangerous situations without actual, like, danger?<BR><br>She shook her head when he offered her the cigarette. <b>"No thanks."</b> She only smoked when she was drunk. Or as an excuse to talk to a certain guy, but then again, she was usually drunk by the time she was actively trying to bed a man.<bR><br><b>"What kind of job is it?"</b>

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CLIFFORD SMITH - February 20, 2012 08:06 PM (GMT)
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<center><div style="width:380px; padding:20px; border:#111 20px solid; background-color:#f1f1f1;"><div style="padding-top:10px;"</div><span style="color:#111; font-size:40px;">●</span><span style="font-family:wire one; font-size:55px; text-transform:uppercase; color:#111; text-align:center;">the dog days are done</span><span style="color:#111; font-size:40px;">●</span><div style="padding-top:5px; width:380px; border-bottom:#111 1px dotted;"></div><div style="padding-top:5px;"></div><div style="width:380px; height:250px;

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<p>Clifford shrugged and was of the opinion that it was her loss if she didn’t want a cigarette. He thought the office smelled a little better with plumes of smoke cloying in the air – not really a typical smoker. He thought that his senses had been dulled when he became. Whatever the fuck he was. An Arcane. Still, the Department Head didn’t know much what that meant himself, all he knew was that he felt less human. Not freakishly unlike a real person but close enough that it bothered him from time to time. He also knew that he could mould the people that he considered underlings – and they would do whatever he told them to because. Well, apparently he was quite powerful. He had a very unique ability that he only hinted at when it suited him but they really didn’t know he had the ability to suppress all of their ‘miracles’. So in a way, he was all right with sitting behind his behemoth of a desk and waiting for those little flies to come into his web.
<p>Yeah, it was one way of looking at it.
<p>Lighting up, Clifford sneered slightly around his cancer stick clamped between his teeth. Dogs were just as bad as wolves. He didn’t know that the dog being referenced was a small obese pug. “That’s nice. But I don’t care about you walking the dog; I was trying to be polite.” If he wanted her life story he would have asked, he expected her to say that ‘no’ she hadn’t been busy. He didn’t need that extra added information.
<p>Watching her sit presumably more comfortable in the seat across from him, Clifford lowered his hand and tapped ashes off the end of his cig into the ashtray. “It’s an easy job. I just need you to ask one of the wolf chiefs, I don’t care which beast you pick, if they’ve let a new wolf into their pack lately. Standard stuff, you know.”
<p>He knew of Vernoi... that French name that should have been VERONICA, and Penelope’s miracles but really he didn’t care. They couldn’t be paired up all the time so they would either sink or swim. If they sank, then that wasn’t his problem. It was theirs for not being able to evolve or some shit. He wouldn’t miss them. Arcane were disposable.
<p>“Unless you’re not up to it?” He asked, one of his eyebrows raised looking as if he was challenging her to disagree.


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PENELOPE BEST - February 20, 2012 11:37 PM (GMT)
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After she asked what kind of job it was that Clifford had for her, Penelope began taking off her coat and scarf. She'd probably be in his office for a little while longer and it was starting to get warm beneath those layers. She forgot, of course, about the half-faded hickeys adorning her throat, or the relatively low-cut v-neck shirt she'd thrown on to walk Rufus. She hadn't been planning on meeting with her boss today; if she had, or had at least been given a little more notice, she would have put on something much more professional, closer to a suit even. She actually rarely dressed as she was now, at least if she was going to be interacting wit people. She had figured her coat would cover her, and she was just walking the dog, so it was very important how she looked. Now she figured she should have listened to that stupid girl in high school that was always on her case to dress nicer. She just liked functional clothes that she could actually move int. Like, what was the point of wearing dresses and stuff all the time if she was going to have to chase after her dog, or like in high school, do gymnastics half the day? She was just going to get her clothes ruined, and you can't exactly do flips in heels and a dress.<Br><BR>She paused when Cliff all but told her to shut up. <b>"Um. All right,"</b> she said, trying not to roll her eyes at him. If Ronnie had been there she would have given him a very pointed look, meant to express what a jerk he was being, and for absolutely no reason. She hardly told him her life story, she was just explaining why it'd taken her so long to get here. He was not doing really great at the being polite thing.<br><BR>As he explained the job, she scratched at her neck, drawing red lines from one of the hickeys to her collar bone, completely not thinking about what was going on with her body. Why should she? She was at work, she didn't think about sex here. Well, she rarely thought about sex at all when she was sober--or, sober and well, recovered from her hangovers, which thankfully healed quicker and quicker with Ronnie around. Even her hickeys would have disappeared, but her friend had left earlier that morning, in a huff that Pen would have been able to detect even if she couldn't feel everything Ron did, so they were back to a normal pace of dissipation.<br><br>Once Clifford explained what she'd need to do, she nodded. She was about to agree to it when he spoke again, seeming to challenge her. She rose an eyebrow. <b>"Um. I can handle it. I'm pretty tough,"</b> she said with a smirk. She was, really, even without the aid of her powers. Ronnie was the clumsier one, something Penelope found really endearing about the girl. But she was graceful as they came, and a damn good socializer to boot. <b>"I don't think talking is going to be that hard."</b> she continued, her tone not lacking in snark. <b>"Where does he hang out?"</b> She would need to know at least where to start looking if she was going to do this. He couldn't expect her to just wander around the woods until she stumbled upon someone that might be a pack leader, or might just want lunch.

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CLIFFORD SMITH - February 28, 2012 01:04 AM (GMT)
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<center><div style="width:380px; padding:20px; border:#111 20px solid; background-color:#f1f1f1;"><div style="padding-top:10px;"</div><span style="color:#111; font-size:40px;">●</span><span style="font-family:wire one; font-size:55px; text-transform:uppercase; color:#111; text-align:center;">the dog days are done</span><span style="color:#111; font-size:40px;">●</span><div style="padding-top:5px; width:380px; border-bottom:#111 1px dotted;"></div><div style="padding-top:5px;"></div><div style="width:380px; height:250px;

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<p>He did try to do the polite thing – just that so far he hadn’t really found a good way to relate to any of these people. It was difficult to interact with them and it was more difficult to fake any sort of empathy. He had always had that problem, ever since he could remember. As a child he had a hard time grasping how he was supposed to act around adults since he had never been exactly socialized as a youngster. His babysitters never really were the type to want to entertain, rather the type looking for quick cash. High School had been the same as well, only he could finally be home alone instead of having to be looked after. His peers had been just that to him. Peers. People the same age as him. While he could talk to them, there had always been something a little off about him that sometimes overshadowed his sometimes near charming attitude (and he supposed the near charm had left him somewhere in his cabin home deep in the woods). So, to him, he really hadn’t told her to all but shut up. To him he thought he was just getting his point across that he didn’t need too much chatter about things that were outside the office. Personal details about the other Arcane were irrelevant to their jobs.
<p>What did seem relevant though, was the fading bruises adorning Penelope’s neck. Intrigued slightly by those tell-tale markings – hickeys of course—Clifford leaned forward his leather high back chair. Now he had been married and he had, despite all of his sometimes odd antisocial behaviour, Clifford knew what a hickey looked like because he had given a few in his lifetime and had received a few. Interesting that the young woman across from his desk seemed to display them. He really had no idea what kind of person she was; naturally it was simpler for him to make snap decisions judging her character.
<p>This time instead of tapping out ashes in the ash tray, the Arcane Department Head stamped out the half-smoked cigarette. “Yes, that is what most everyone says,” he commented offhandedly. Clifford, once again, wasn’t trying to be rude. He was just pointing out that most people did say they were ‘pretty tough’ or a variation of that. Not too many sat before him and said they didn’t want to take the job or they couldn’t handle it. “I appreciate your enthusiasm.” Clifford said his own smirk plain as day on his face.
<p>“Talking to a Wolf is hard. They’re stupid, you need to talk loudly and very slowly or they won’t understand,” giving her a piece of advice, Clifford found that when dealing with those savages, it was best to make sure you said everything properly. Then the question of where one the chiefs might ‘hang out’. Well, Clifford wasn’t sure about that. That was why he usually sent Cecy for such matters – she could hide. “Mm, the woods most likely.... but you know, I was thinking,” he began, placing his elbows on the flat surface of his desk. Making a fist, he rested his cheek against it.
<p>“How about I give you a proposition? I’m sure there is something you can do for me so you don’t have to find that mangy Wolf.” He looked pointedly at her throat and then to her lowcut top. Why not?



</div><div style="padding-top:5px; width:380px; border-bottom:#111 1px dotted;"></div><div style="padding-top:25px;"</div><span style="color:#000; font-size:40px;">●</span><span style="font-family:wire one; font-size:57px; text-transform:uppercase; color:#111; text-align:center;">so you better run</span><span style="color:#000; font-size:40px;">●</span>
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PENELOPE BEST - February 28, 2012 11:34 PM (GMT)
[dohtml]<div style="width: 475px; height: 346px; background-image:url(http://i124.photobucket.com/albums/p2/nailsforbiting/constance/temp.jpg);"><table><tr><td><div style="width:169px; height: 346px;"></div></td><td><div style="width: 280px; height: 320px; opacity:0.7; background-color:#dfe7f2; color: #161746; font-family: 'forum', georgia; font-size: 12px; overflow-y:auto; text-align: justify; padding: 3px; letter-spacing: -.5">Penelope had only been joking when she'd said that she was tough. Or, mostly joking anyway. She might not have come off like it all the time, but she was really good at talking to people. When it was needed, she could put her general disdain aside and converse with almost anyone quite pleasantly. <br><br>It was interesting, really, how much she disliked most people, how much of a bitch she could be to them. She was bordering on that behaviour now, but that might have just been retaliation against Cliff's own abrasive nature. But despite all that, and her general lack of patience for anyone, she was so close with, so kind to Ronnie. If anyone knew the pair separately, they probably would've been shocked to discover how close the two girls were. Penelope was poised and smart, graceful and quick-witted. Ronnie was smart, too, in her own way. She wasn't very graceful, though, and often tripped or broke things. But none of that bothered Pen--not really. Not like it would with someone else, someone she hadn't known almost her entire life, someone she didn't--<bR><BR>What was Cliff saying? Talking to a Wolf was hard? Penelope doubted it. Especially if the wolf was a man. And Cliff made it sound like he was a far-right Republican talking about foreigners, which, well, he might as well have been. But Penny didn't think about it like that. She didn't know how she felt about integration or all of that--what did it matter to her, really?--but she didn't think Wolves were that stupid. In fact, from what she had seen, they were a generally intelligent race. But she nodded, understanding, at least, she had to please her boss. She knew they could pull her from her regular life into this tone; she didn't want to think about what they could do if she messed up or pissed someone off badly enough.<BR><BR><b>"Okay,"</b> she said, when he told her they were in the woods, a hint of irritation in her tone. Obviously. Where else would they be? It's not like even regular wolves hung out at the mall. Duh.<br><BR>But he'd continued talking. What was this? She watched his face and was suddenly aware of how she was dressed, what she was showing to him. Her skin flushed and she crossed her arms over her chest, rubbing her neck with one. She looked away from him, really wishing she weren't there right then. Or else that Ronnie was there too. At the very least, she wished she could just get drunk again, right now.<br><Br><B>"What kind of proposition?"</b> she asked, voice low, hesitant, but not scared--just cautious.

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CLIFFORD SMITH - March 6, 2012 01:56 AM (GMT)
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<p>When he noticed her cross her arms in front of her chest, he thought that meant she knew he had been looking where it wasn’t exactly polite to stare. Back when he had a normal job – one with rules and social nuances everywhere one may have turned—he might have been a little worried about ramifications. As far as he knew, and he was quite sure he was right, the Arcane weren’t unionized or anything like that. He didn’t think that sexual harassment suits came up either. If they had, he had never heard of one and he was sure he would have. After all, he was quite sure there was him and. There was just him at the top. He couldn’t confirm that but it was a nice thought to think his actions were justified no matter what.
<p>And honestly if he was worried about backlash about any form of sexual harassment, well then he would have completely stopped his train of thought all together. His proposition was definitely not what a boss should even entertain asking of one of his employees. It wasn’t really a proposition he had ever offered before but Penelope seemed to be a discreet individual. Probably had a little bit of an attitude problem judging by her tone she kept with Clifford and the way her facial expression while speaking with him could be considered quite smug but at least she didn’t have a glaring attitude. Just one that needed to be tweaked a little bit so she would just hop and do whatever he asked.
<p>He liked it when the Arcane he sent out didn’t ask so many questions.
<p>Of course she hadn’t asked that many and she had asked reasonable ones but Clifford was in a mood. One of those strange controlling moods. One where he wanted satisfaction out ordering a person around—Penelope would do.
<p>“I was thinking instead of a field job you could give me a blow job?” He said without blinking or any real emotion on his face. His smirk was still on his face but it couldn’t be considered a smirk with something behind it. He was testing her. She looked like a loose enough woman but he couldn’t be so sure. She might get up and smack him.


</div><div style="padding-top:5px; width:380px; border-bottom:#111 1px dotted;"></div><div style="padding-top:25px;"</div><span style="color:#000; font-size:40px;">●</span><span style="font-family:wire one; font-size:57px; text-transform:uppercase; color:#111; text-align:center;">so you better run</span><span style="color:#000; font-size:40px;">●</span>
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PENELOPE BEST - March 6, 2012 11:26 PM (GMT)
[dohtml]<div style="width: 475px; height: 346px; background-image:url(http://i124.photobucket.com/albums/p2/nailsforbiting/constance/temp.jpg);"><table><tr><td><div style="width:169px; height: 346px;"></div></td><td><div style="width: 280px; height: 320px; opacity:0.7; background-color:#dfe7f2; color: #161746; font-family: 'forum', georgia; font-size: 12px; overflow-y:auto; text-align: justify; padding: 3px; letter-spacing: -.5">Well, Penelope couldn't say she was surprised. What else would've come after the word "proposition"? And really, it wasn't the first time she'd gotten something like this from a boss, or other man in power. She didn't think she came off as inherently...loose, but she guessed there must have been something about her--the blonde hair, blue eyes; her shirts that always seemed to show skin at one end of the other, no matter what size she bought; her masterful puppy-dog eyes; something--whatever it was, more than just once she'd ended up with a similar decision to make, in a similar position, sitting on one side of a desk belonging to a man that, in some way, determined her future.<br><BR>And being Penelope Best, it wasn't exactly in her nature to say "no." Plus, if she complied, she figured she'd be owed something and she sort of collected favors.<BR><BR>She shifted in her seat, looking the man in charge of the Arcane over. She was considering what, exactly, the benefit would be. He probably thought they'd be even, since he was offering her this opportunity instead of going on a Wolf hunt. But maybe if she did really good, she could convince him that wasn't quite an even trade. And of course, there was always the possibility, however dwindling and hopeless it seemed now, that he could be the man she was meant to be with, the man that made her feel....well, anything. Anything aside from bored and lonely for Ronnie and every pang of anger Ronnie felt as she laid on her back beneath someone else.<BR><BR>Finally she opened her mouth. <b>"Do you have anything to drink?"</b> She meant anything alcoholic, of course. It wasn't that Cliff, or even what was in his pants, was particularly unappealing. No, even she could objectively see that he was a handsome man, despite the weathering of his face and whatever was going on behind it. This just wasn't something she did--or even knew <i>how</i> to do--without liquor. And she definitely knew she'd need it after she--no, <i>he</i> finished.

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CLIFFORD SMITH - March 8, 2012 03:44 AM (GMT)
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<p>She didn’t smack him. She just asked him for a drink. That was acceptable. His office was situated in much the same way that his old office was. The desk was made of a fine hardwood that had a high shine finish, that wasn’t necessarily important to him but he knew that others appreciated that attention to detail. He had a potted plant (a large creeping vine that was crawling up a lattice work fence) in the corner of the room near the door to add ambiance—he guessed. He only put the stupid thing there because it looked like it should be there. Another thing that looked as if it belonged in the space was the long bar like cabinet.
<p>The many drawers held files but the surface had a few decorative pretentious boss like things. A chess set for one. Clifford didn’t even play chess, he was smart but he had never gotten into the game. There was also a glass bottle of Crown Royal on a tray. The tray had a few glasses and a small container that kept ice cubes chilled incase he wanted a nip of whiskey. That was certainly carried over from his days of being an account. Sometimes it was nice to pour someone a nice glass of whiskey for a toast on a job well done.
<p>Getting up out of his chair, he went for the glass of whiskey to pour Penelope a generous helping of a shot. He poured himself one as well but he wasn’t that interested in drinking. “Here,” he said holding out the glass to her for to take. Once it was out of his hands, he took a sip of his own drink. “That wasn’t exactly a ‘no’.” He mused, leaning against his desk now. He didn’t reach for his pants. He expected his employee to take the initiative.
<p>“This isn’t something you can tell anyone else. I trust you understand that? I don’t want anyone to think I’m playing favourites.”

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PENELOPE BEST - March 11, 2012 10:43 PM (GMT)
[dohtml]<div style="width: 475px; height: 346px; background-image:url(http://i124.photobucket.com/albums/p2/nailsforbiting/constance/temp.jpg);"><table><tr><td><div style="width:169px; height: 346px;"></div></td><td><div style="width: 280px; height: 320px; opacity:0.7; background-color:#dfe7f2; color: #161746; font-family: 'forum', georgia; font-size: 12px; overflow-y:auto; text-align: justify; padding: 3px; letter-spacing: -.5">She watched him stand from his chair and move out from behind his desk. It wasn't until the first glass was poured that Penelope stood as well and walked over to him. She took the glass wordlessly and brought it to her lips, drinking with her eyes open. She had to resist smirking, if only so she could keep siphoning the dark liquid down her throat when he commented that her response hadn't quite been a refusal. She was well aware of that, of course. It hadn't been an acceptance, either, but she was still here, and wasn't pitching a fit or calling security or anything like that. He was right in assuming what he did.<br><Br>She finished the drink without removing the glass from her lips. She raised an eyebrow. "Playing favourites"? Who did he think she was? She knew this had nothing to do with him liking her more than any other employee. <b>"Of course,"</b> she told him that she understood, though. She wasn't planning on sharing this incident with anyone. Not that there would be anyone to tell. Ronnie would know, even if she didn't know who it was with, and it's not like there was anyone higher up the ladder than Clifford. At least not that Penelope was aware of. He seemed to run things there, to be in charge of everything related to the Arcane and Silver Moon Corporation. <bR><br><b>"Can you lock the door?"</b> she asked, mostly to be sure that it was possible. She knew some offices discouraged that kind of thing and didn't even have locks on their doors. If this was supposed to be secret, though, they should prevent anyone from walking in unexpectedly. And while Clifford probably was concerned about his reputation as a fair and equal boss, one who didn't "pick favourites," or take advantage of his employees, Penelope didn't want to be know as the Silver Moon Slut, or anything else like that. She didn't want to worry about being approached by another Aracne expecting the same treatment. So maybe they did have similar concerns.<br><br>While he took care of that, she returned to the sideboard and refilled her glass, almost to the rim. She moved her eyes in their sockets, watching him while she again downed her drink. Two wasn't very much, even if this did have a high proof. But it was something.<br><br>Finally she put her glass down, directly on the wood counter, and sauntered over to her boss, her supervisor. She leaned forward, extending her arms and pressed her hands against his crotch, looking at his face while she did so. When she began to undo his pants she bent her knees to kneel in front of him. She continued to move her hands over him until there was no more fabric over his most sensitive skin. She looked up, licked her lips, and leaned forward.

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CLIFFORD SMITH - March 17, 2012 01:44 AM (GMT)
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<p>Little did Penelope know, Ronnie wouldn’t be feeling a thing. It was how Clifford worked. It was why he was the Arcane Department Head, he could do things that no other could. The last Department Head didn’t have half the power that he did. It wasn’t as powerful as Clifford liked to build up in his head but it was really great. Sometimes he wondered if someone could come along and snatch his position. He didn’t think about it too much because – he didn’t want to. Like the other man before him he might someday be the one to have to break the news to some human that they were special. That they were wanted and needed to recruited for the Silver Moon Corporation. He didn’t like that idea; he was feeling quite comfortable in his position as of now.
<p>So he listened to his more conceited side and just nodded his head and went for the door. He didn’t really have to lock it, he didn’t think. Clifford was important; he was built up as far as he was concerned among the Arcane. His miracle wasn’t advertised but should have been guessed—why not? Everyone was so perceptive! It gave him a little bit of a sick thrill when people didn’t know what he was all about. He liked fooling his employees. He liked pretending he was lording over everyone.
<p>“Not a problem,” he said as he walked to the door. Turning the small knob that signified if the door was locked or not, he locked it and then leaned against it. No one came around unless he asked for them. There would be no one to just drop by—not at this job.
<p>Holding his drink not quite drained yet in his hand, he smiled as the young woman in his office ambled over to him. Whatever he was going to open his mouth and say went unheard because she was moving her hands over bare skin. No more fabric was separating them from his most intimate of parts. Sucking in a breath between his teeth, he used his free hand to press against the back of Penelope’s head.
<p>He ‘mmmed’ as she slid her lips and took his dick into her mouth. He could remember his wife doing that to him. Was he detached about it or did he enjoy it? He couldn’t really recall.

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