Accidental Villainy 33 (Patreon)

“And, I think that’s the last one,” I said as I passed the last bag to her in front of her door, enjoying the incredible blush that spread on Emily’s face … and she didn’t even try them on. 

That had been my initial plan, but she was very reluctant to try them on and pose with them in real-time, enough to strain our budding relationship if I tried to push her on the subject according to my Observation. 

There was no harm in delaying the show a little. 

“T-thank you, it has been a fun day,” she whispered as she stood at the door, conflicted about whether to invite me in or not. Pushing her wouldn’t be useful, so I leaned forward for a quick, sweet kiss before pulling back. 

“Actually, thank you, my beautiful superhero,” I replied. “You’re the one that’s saving my life with your powers.” It was a touch exaggerated, but considering her overall lack of self-confidence relating to her power — dismissed as a mere receptionist would do that — I had no problem being freer with my compliments. 

Emily reacted to the positivity very well, in the form of another, far more heated kiss, her body smashing against mine, rubbing in a way that was inappropriate for a corridor, tempting me to use the opportunity to take a step inside and damn the consequences. 

Unfortunately, my situation as a fake villain was too dangerous to risk that way, so I let Emily have control for a minute. When she pulled back, she was panting and her lips were parted with arousal, and for a moment, I hoped that she would drag me inside. 

Too bad her shyness asserted itself a second later. “Um, I’ll see you later,” she whispered, took a step back, and slammed the door closed, retreating to the safety of her house, once again amusing me with the differences. 

As I walked away, I couldn’t help but wonder whether her power played a role in her general attitude, making her feel safer due to her enhanced control. 

Very likely, I concluded as I started traveling back to my bar. It was almost time to open the bar, and I couldn’t rely on Tara to handle the business. And, not opening the bar on time would send the wrong message — especially since I was supposed to be at the bar the whole time. 

Before I could arrive, my phone buzzed. A message from Emily. ‘I have finished setting up the computer, and your researcher is ready to serve,’ the message read, but I was more interested in the attached photo. It showed where Emily had set up her new laptop … but she was in front of the computer, wearing a pair of faux glasses that had been slid forward slightly. 

And nothing else. 

Pity she chose her angle perfectly so that the laptop covered her naughty bits perfectly, giving me nothing but a nice cleavage and a glimpse of her beautiful legs. Without my power, I wouldn’t be able to guess that she was naked. 

That didn’t prevent me from enjoying the photo very much, especially when she followed with another one just a minute later, this time giving a better glimpse of her cleavage, her blush suggesting that her fingers weren’t only busy with the keyboard. 

‘Amazing setup, miss analyst. How about you start working,’ I wrote back, and followed with a bunch of names. 

‘I’m on it, sir,’ she wrote back, followed by another photo of her, this time askew enough to give me a glimpse of her areolas. 

We texted back and forth even as I returned to the outskirts of the city and used the secret tunnel to go back. I received several more photos, along with some very complete portfolios of the names and pictures I had sent. 

She might lack the ability to hack, but that wasn’t a big detriment when she could go through the public sources and vet them with a shocking speed. Moreover, once I had given her multiple names, she was also able to find quite a bit connections between them. Old school photos that they thought they had erased, names of family members, old employment records…

Alone, they were impressive enough, but when I crossed them with my own real-time observations, about the way they reacted to the presence of each other, it created an even more complete picture. 

Just like that, not only I was able to identify exactly which person worked for which gang — the shell companies they worked for and the lawyers that defended them against lawsuits doing wonders — but I also had a good idea about their weaknesses; financial troubles, mistresses, gambling…

Altogether, an excellent start. 

I was tempted to send the names and pictures I gathered from Elite Syndicate, but after some thought, I decided against it. Who knew if they had the ability to trace back her queries. Instead, I asked her to study how to hide her connection while she did her research. 

Her first answer was VPNs, but after she explained how they worked, I vetoed hard. It was just trusting her information to other servers. I didn’t trust them to refuse to give out the information if the Elite Syndicate came calling. 

No, it was far safer to delay poking that particular bear while Emily studied. 

However, that was a complicated study that would take quite a bit of time to get used to. Instead, I asked her to collect some information about some of the shell companies being used by the smaller gangs, curious whether I would be able to get anything from there. 

With that, I was at the bar, which was in an even better state than how I left, showing that Tara worked hard. Currently, she was at the bar, dusting the bottles, acting unaware of my presence. Acting, evidenced by three points. One, I had already informed her about my imminent arrival. Two, I didn’t bother hiding my stomping, and if she was careless enough to miss that, I certainly wouldn’t have trusted her to protect the place. 

Three, she was wearing the sexy French maid uniform we purchased during our shopping trip while leaning forward excessively while handling the bottles … minus the underwear that came with it. 

A shocking amount of daring considering her usual submissive attitude. 

One that I had no issues rewarding. 

However, I didn’t say anything immediately. First, I took a seat, taking a note of her ensemble. It started with tall stilettos that looked impossible to balance — but she moved with ease thanks to her power — followed by white fishnet stockings that climbed halfway to her thighs, where a normal skirt was supposed to start. 

Her skirt was much shorter than that. It would have covered her beautiful bottom, but only if she was standing perfectly straight. With the way she bent forward, it kept nothing hidden, giving me an excellent view of her curves.  

She was wearing the blouse that came with the set, which was a pity. She would have looked far better wearing just the apron. 

The set was complete with a nice bow around her neck, highlighting her submissive nature even more, and so was the cute little headband that peeked through her beautiful brown hair, currently gathered in a nice braid. 

Altogether, a truly sexy maid, ready to work for her master both day and night … in every room. 

And, if she wanted to play like this, I was more than happy to accommodate her. “Bring me a scotch, neat,” I ordered. 

“Yes, sir,” her answer came quick, and poured me a glass before she turned toward me, giving me another fun surprise. Her blouse was mostly unbuttoned, giving me an excellent view of her cleavage until her apron started blocking. 

I watched her saunter toward me, showing the full benefits of our earlier training. With each step,  her hips swayed beautifully, revealing the treasures underneath, her tits swaying alluringly. But, despite the show, the greatest thing about her beauty was her expression, demure yet alluring. Her body moved with the skill and confidence of a supermodel, but her expression told me that the display was more about her power. 

She was just as shy and submissive as ever. 

It only made her more beautiful. 

I enjoyed the slow, alluring approach of my sexy model, each second filling me with a deeper appreciation of her beauty. She stood in front of me, a perfect mixture of sexy and demure, asking for more. I smirked as I grabbed the glass and took a sip. “What a clumsy maid. This is not scotch, but bourbon” I said, my tone harsh. “Apologize, or I’ll see you fired.” 

“Oh, no, sir,” she gasped, trying to sound distressed, but there was no hiding her rising excitement. “I’ll do so immediately,  please don’t get me fired,” she said as she fell on her knees hard enough for me to wonder if she actually damaged the floor. 

Considering her power, not an unlikely outcome. 

However, I stopped wondering about it soon enough, and turned my focus on more important things, like the depth of her amazing cleavage. While I enjoyed that, she gathered her hands on her lap, looking up obediently.