She shrugged and smiled coyly. “I just want to know what you’re willing to do to keep your customers happy.”
He asked, “Why? Do you want me to beg?”
She smiled. “Because I like to hear bad men suffer.”
This was by far the most unusual business meeting he'd ever had. She had an erotic air about her, though. If this was his penance from up high, he had little choice but to obey.
She coaxed, “Don’t disappoint me. Don’t disappoint them. Beg.”
He coldly said, “Please take the farm from me.”
She corrected him. “Say it like you mean it.”
He added emotion. “Please take the farm from me.”
She added, “Say my name too.”
“Please take the farm from me, Betty.”
She smiled and said, “Good boy.”
She stacked more money on the desk
In an alluring voice, she said. "Come to me."
The way she teased reminded him of a Razzles girl. He walked past her and locked his office door first, then returned to her.
She said, “Get on your knees.”
He chuckled, and complied. He was becoming aroused.
She stroked his hair with her long fingernails. It gave him chills. He stared into her eyes. They were so much like Jewel's.
She reached into her bag and placed more money on the desk and said, “Good boy.”
She said, “Now, I want you to tell me that you are sorry for stealing the farm from me.”
He was confused. "I don’t get it."
She frowned and grabbed a bill stack from his desk.
He grabbed her arm. “Wait. Just wait. I’ll say it.”
He took a deep breath, and quickly said, "I'm sorry I stole the farm from you."
She said, “Say it like you mean it, and add my name.”
He did. "I'm sorry I stole the farm from you, Betty."
She leaned in and kissed him gently.
She said, “Say it again.”
He did and she kissed him again, only this time it was a little longer. He broke off from the kiss and asked, her, "I get a money stack too, right?"
She laughed, "Boy oh boy, you are piece of work."
She gave him extra. 'That’s for making me laugh."
She said. “Now, I want you to tell me you hate yourself.”
He gulped, and looked at the money.
She added. “You’ll get another kiss, too.”
He closed his eyes and said, “I hate myself.”
She said, “That’s a good boy. You can have the rest now.”
He was very aroused and needed to calm himself down to complete the deal. She sat back in the chair and clenched the upholstered arms with her fingers. She wondered if this was what it was like for him when the situations were reversed. She had complete power over him and she loved it.
He played with the money as he counted it. It was plenty. Then he said, “Yes, this should cover it.”
She asked, “Do we have a deal?”
He was flushed. With a big grin he said. “Yes.”
She said. “Then give me the deed.”
He signed over the deed to her. Betty signed it with her fake name, for now. In the future she would sell it back to herself to get the McDougal name back on the document, where it belonged. They shook hands and Carson escorted her to the door and unlocked it. He handed her the empty floral bag. She turned to him and said in a whisper, “It was a pleasure giving you the business. Goodbye Carson.”
He didn’t understand the broad’s message, and he opted never to talk about the meeting specifics.
That evening at the old McDougal farm, Betty peeled off her Rockefeller mask and wig, kicked off her shoes. She strolled into the middle of the empty field in her socks and coat. A strong, cool, wind hugged her and her hair blew wild and free.
She cheered and raised her arms to the sky. “The farm is ours again!”
She reviewed all the things she’d said and done to get to this point. Tears streamed down her face. She was very different now. She was an adult.
She surveyed her land. “I had a real home again.”
She laid down on the cold soil. She felt the earth spinning and watched the clouds sail past.
Then she spoke to the heavens.
“My first mission was coming to an end and there was only one thing left to take care of. I’m just not sure of the right way to do it.”
It was raining that afternoon in the Citadel. It wasn't a hard rain, it was just a drizzle that wouldn't stop. It started before Betty woke up and lasted long enough to fill puddles. She sloshed through them as she crossed the street to the shelter where she and her family used to live. She came to visit Sister Hazel. The nun had offered Betty good advice in the past. She needed more. The nun seemed like family. Not an immediate family member like a mom or a sister, but more like an aunt she saw once a year at Christmas. They could comfortably pick up a conversation, abandoned twelve months earlier. Betty wondered if everyone who knew the nun felt the same way.
Sister Hazel was behind the shelter loading an aging truck with crates of donated clothing. She divided the goods equally for delivery to all affiliated shelters. She wanted to make sure she did the most good with what little she had. When Betty was younger she remembered hearing Sister Hazel say, “I’m more interested in the less fortunate than the people with the most fortunes.”