Heh I wrote a little Maggie/Walter fic for those interested. Gets kinda dirty, but it was a fun way to develop/explore thier characters.<br/><br/>And ello Mocha, Sasha, Crazied^^<br/><br/>@Sasha. I also see Maggie maybe leaning on JD for advice/help to fulfill her drug providing duties in any given city. though she'd have expressed nevousness over him driving while under the influence of anything. I think she'd appreciate his calmn, level head, and reliability<br/><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide</div><div class="spoiler_body">All was quiet except for the steady hum of the climate control. Normally Walter had music on when she visited, some gritty rap or hip hop with a throaty ragging voice belting obscene lyrics to a bass heavy beat. But today, noting but silence, and it put her on edge. She didn't know why she'd been called into the CEO's office, but she rarely did, and when she got the call to come in for a late night meeting, she assumed it would be to meet another of his peculiar but ultimately trivial requests. She'd dragged out the same tired old business casual number she always wore when visiting him or dealing with any of the label's higher ups: white blouse, gray pencil skirt, flats. She'd tried to put her hair up but failed to manage anything presentable before the last minute rendez vous, so she simply left it down. <br/><br/>Walter sat the opposite side of the massive expanse of black slate he called a desk, fingers tented before him as he stared. He was wearing a black tie against a black shirt that probably cost more then the last pay check of all the roadies combined, neither of which she'd seen before, but Maggie had never seen him in the same suit twice. When the suffocating quiet grew unbearable, she finally spoke. <br/><br/>"You wanted to see me about something?" She asked, speaking a little quicker then the question called for. <br/><br/>Walter's leather chair creaked as he leaned back, settling into a more comfortable position. "If you built yourself an empire, would you want to know why it is the people who you pay to do their jobs work for you?" He asked, betraying little in his casual tone. <br/><br/>Maggie's throat went dry. She was used to Walter being frank with his orders, definately not indulging in hypotheticals. "Yes... I suppose so." She answered tentatively. <br/><br/>"Good. Then you'll understand why it is I had my people look into you." He said flatly, pulling out a thin manila folder and sliding it onto the desk. Maggie went rigid, but didn't give him the satisfaction of any overt signs of discomfort or surprise, instead choosing guarded stillness. Walter leaned forward, hands meeting the cold surface of his desk. The AC was always cranked in his office. It was the way he liked it and he couldn't care less about the the environment or anyone who found it uncomfortable. In fact, he like a little discomfort in his guests, anything to take them off their game as he engaged in a little mind fucking. He gave a short sharp chuckle. <br/><br/>"See I have to know what makes people tick. What they <em>need</em>. It's how I keep them in their place. For most that's as simple as providing them with drugs, sex, and money. The golden trifecta." Her explained, numbering each of the three off on his fingers. "For some bitches its as simple as shoes, clothes and diamonds, but I know that's not your angle coming in here every god damn time in that same, sad JC penny bullshit."<br/><br/>Maggie reflexively looked down at off the rack her blouse and skirt, though she quickly lifted her chin back up. <br/><br/>"You're not in it for the lifestyle. You can barely stand those assholes I have you baby sitting, and I know you hate my ass..." Walter paused when Maggie moved as if to speak, but he raised a palm ans hot a look that told her to keep her denials to herself. <br/><br/>"When I had my people look into your finances I expected them to to come back telling me you had some online poker or freaky porn addiction guzzling up your paycheck, but this..." Walter paused, tapping on the folderwith his index and middle finger. "This is some real Oprah bullshit." He slowly slid the folder back toward him and opened it, shaking his head at its contents. "Aside from a few obscure record purchases, every spare cent's been wired to Oleans music revival foundations and to private hospital's to cover the experimental and fucking costly cancer treatments of a Rodney Baker. Heh. Didn't have you pegged for a blues fan." He smiled over the ridge of the folder at the mixed expression of transparent hate and embarrassment being beamed at him by Maggie's blushed and twisted features. <br/><br/>She would have told him he hadn't the right, but she was willing to bet there was a subclasue of a subclause in her contract giving her permission to put her most intimate personal information under a microscope if he felt so inclined. All she could do was glare at him through narrowed slits as he returned the folder to is drawer. <br/><br/>"So as to answer your question, about what I wanted." He learned over, allowing for dramatic pause as he made unflinching eye contact with his employee. "I want to fuck you. Right here. Right now. Right over this desk." He said in all seriousness, palms sliding out over the slate in the ensuing silence. <br/><br/>Maggie went weak in the knees. Her heart thundered in her chest as she grappled for words. "I'm not one of your groupies, Walter. You can't just call me in here and expect to - to fuck me." She finally snapped. <br/><br/>"You're half right there." He smirked amusedly. "You're not some slut out to splay her legs to get ahead. But I <em>can</em> fuck you." His smile faded and voice sudden raised to a booming volume. "I do it daily. I say jump you say how high. 'Yes, sir'. 'No, sir'. That's me, <em>fucking </em>you. Taking a little piece at a time." Walter punctuated his lecture with a hard slap to his desk. The sound of hishand falling heavy echoed through the  His breath came hot and heavy as Maggie watched in thinly veiled fear. Seeing her discomfort, he reeled in his temper, though he lacked the words or the will to explain the source of his frustration was in watching her take his shit when he could tell she had the brains and ability to do much better for herself. When he felt control return, he met her with a guarded stare. <br/><br/>"Now, you know I'm not a man without generosity, but I'm not one to give what isn't earned." He explained, low and level as he slowly moved stood from his chair. He began to move around  his desk with the same measured pace, slowly cirling until he came to stand directly behind her. He looked at the reflection of them in the massive mirror that hung behind his desk. She wasn't the image of the tall, well maintained bombshell he usually had in his office, but he'd slowly come to crave her during the time she'd worked for him. It was in coming to know once and for all that she was too good, too intelligent, too talented, too goddam nice for him that had rocketed her to the top of his lengthy list of desires. <br/><br/>His hands gently slid over her shoulders, leaning close to speak softly. "Now I can give a hundred times the amount you'd ever hope to, see to it that blues man gets some top of the line care. You can quit this racket. Go to do your PhD, hang out on Bourbon Street. Whatever you want. Just give me what <em>I</em> want. Everyone comes out a winner."<br/><br/>The ensuing silence signaled the manager was genuinely mulling over the proposal. Walter took the opportunity the trail down the length of her collar with his finger tips toward the line of buttons leading down her front. He undid the top one, then another, moving slowly until none remained. Still no request that he stop. He slowly parted the blouse, exposing the pale torso that was only a few shades off her painfully boring white bra. With his breath falling in heavier rounds, his fingers traced the garment's edge, stroking inward until her had her undersized breast was in his firm grasp. He squeezed as he leaned into her. She was rigid, every muscle tense. "Relax." He whispered. "You're going to enjoy this." It was a promise. <br/><br/>He brushed her hair aside and planted a kiss at the nape of her neck. Having tested the waters, he was ready to dive in. Her reached hold to take hold of the back of her neck where he'd pressed his lips. With one firm push, he folded her over, crushing her breasts against the cold slate. The front edge of the stone had been beveled for just such occasions. He'd never had a girl under 5'8'' bent over his desk, and Maggie was so short she had to stand on the toes of her flats to hold his favored position. He liked the look of it. With his hand still heavy on her, he began to gently hike up her skirt, pulling it over the curve of her ass. He smoothed over it with the entire expanse of his open hand, moving down between her thighs where he was met with the pleasant surprise of moist heat against his digits. It was more then enough to make him want to tear into her that very moment, but he intended to milk every last cent he'd give her out of her body in what he'd ensure would be a very long, memorable night. He slid up along the trail of hot juices running his fingers along the soaked cotton separating him from her wet sex. The power and arousal drunk exec leaned over her, his touch intensifying the probing when he heard that one dreaded syllable. <br/><br/>"Stop." <br/><br/>He breathed heavily over her, the more primal part of his brain trying to convince his better half that he'd imagined the soft mew, but whatever meager scraps of conscience he still had wouldn't allow it. Walter was all about power, but power given, not taken. <br/><br/>"You sure?" He asked flatly, straining through the thick of his lust to maintain control over himself. <br/><br/>"Yes." She answered, her voice cracking but entirely certain. <br/><br/>Walter held himself over her for a few more long breaths, still holding her in place as he cupped her sex. "Alright. This offer has no expiration, but I'm not going to ask you twice." He withdrew the hand from her drenched underwear and with the same care that he'd pulled up her skirt, slid it back down. "I'm gonna to leave now. I'll tell the receptionist to give you as much time as you want." His tone wasn't angry, nor was it particularly compassionate. He pushed from the desk and walked the expanse of his spacious office with purpose. As he was slipping through the massive doors, he was already skimming through the contacts of his go to girls. <br/><br/>As the doors closed, Maggie slid along the curve of of the desk onto the floor. A few sobs rattled out of her but she fought back the urge to cry. She sat there for a matter of minutes that felt like hours, before finally collecting herself and heading for the door. She couldn't face the receptionist, but felt the girl's judging eyes on her all the way to the elevator. There was a band party tonight. Somewhere. She'd figure it out on the way to the airport. Undoubtedly, they'd be waiting on her to fill their lastest vice wishlist. </div></div>