Valentine Gift
by Ellie Dauber
© 2003

Attorney Rebecca Sutton normally didn’t like getting gifts from her staff. She didn’t like this one—until she put it on and couldn’t get it off.

This is the second “Stavros” story.

Valentine Gift
by Ellie Dauber
© 2003

Rebecca Sutton saw the package as soon as she walked into her office. It was right in the center of her desk, where she couldn’t miss it, a box two or three inches on each side, wrapped in red paper with a bright pink bow. There was a card underneath it, of course, with her name written on it in a florid style. She didn’t recognize the handwriting.

The card had a picture on the front of a rather pretty blonde in a skimpy sailor’s suit. “Happy Valentine’s Day To an ADMIRAbLe Woman...” the caption said. Inside, the card added “...From Your Crew.” It was signed, “Stefan Djanko.”

Sat down behind the desk and clicked on the intercom. “Marnie, tell Stefan Djanko to get his butt over to my office... now!” She clicked off the intercom without waiting for a reply.

She leaned back in her chair. Associates summoned to the office of one of the senior partners of Lockwood, Royce, and Sutton were usually very prompt.

Rebecca had never liked Valentine’s Day. She was tall and angular, rather than curvaceous. She’d also inherited her father’s rather prominent nose and square jaw. She had no delusions about her appearance, and no one—other than her parents—had ever given her any cause to have them.

Close to fifty, she had many acquaintances but few friends. She had worked hard at her career and at her hobbies. She was on the board of several civic groups and the incoming vice president of the Museum Association. As her late Aunt Rose would have said, she was a very successful old maid.

Now, this… Djanko had to get cute and send her a card. More than one associate had tried to butter her up for better assignments, his own office, whatever. None of them had tried this approach, the hint of sexual interest. She didn’t like it. She didn’t like it at all.

She tried to remember what this... Djanko looked like. The firm had well over a dozen associates, and he’d only been hired a few weeks before. She’d drawn him as one of her staff only because another associate had left to join a firm in her hometown.

There was a knock on the door. It opened slightly, and someone... Djanko looked in. “You... ah, wanted to see me, Ms. Sutton?”

“Yes, Mr. Djanko, please come in... and close the door behind you.”

He stepped in. He was tall, about as tall as her own six foot height. Not bad looking either, she had to admit, curly black hair, aquiline nose, and dark—very dark eyes. ‘Eastern European stock,’ she thought, ‘maybe even some gypsy blood judging from the name. Well, this is one gypsy who may just be moving his shingle to another store, if he can’t explain himself to my satisfaction.’

“I, uh, see that you found my present.” He pointed to the box.

“I did. And I found it most inappropriate. This card...” She held it up.

“Ma’am, Ms. Sutton. I apologize for the card. They really don’t make Valentine’s Day cards for one’s boss. I’ve been assigned to assist on a couple of your cases, Trafton v. deLeon and McMichaels v. Abbott, and I just wanted to say how much I enjoy working here and how much I admire your skill as a litigator.” He sighed. “I’m sorry if you found the card or my gift to be in any way offensive or suggestive.”

Rebecca raised an eyebrow and stared at the man. If he was lying, he was very good at it—which was not a character flaw in a successful lawyer.

“Did you... did you get a chance to look at the locket?” Djanko asked, trying to restart the conversation.

“I haven’t even unwrapped the box, nor do I intend to.”

“I... I wish you would, ma’am. My great uncle Stavros—he’s the head of the family—he made it for you himself.”

“I really don’t think...”

“My family have been... craftsmen for seven generations. Uncle Stavros asked me how I liked being a lawyer. I told him that I had a job that I really liked, working here for you. I guess that I went a little overboard. Anyway, he showed up at my apartment a few days later with the locket.”

“You give to you boss lady, Uncle Stavros say.” Djanko was speaking in a low gravelly voice with a thick accent. “Then she like you whole bunches, and you have good job.” The accent was Eastern European, as she had guessed, but she had no idea where from exactly.

“And that’s all there is to it?”

“I tried to explain that it wouldn’t be proper for me to give it to you, but he insisted.” He shrugged his shoulders. “He’s the head of the family. I... I just couldn’t refuse.”

Rebecca nodded, remembering her Aunt Rose. “I had an aunt who was very much like that, so I suppose that I understand.” She picked up the box. “You just take this, and I’ll consider the entire matter to be settled.”

Djanko looked like she had just fired him—or was about to. “Umm, ah, ma’am, Ms. Sutton, I know that I’m asking a lot, but would you put it on—just for a minute. Then I can honestly tell Uncle Stavros that you did. You can give it right back, but I... ahh, I sort of promised.” He took a breath, bracing himself for the worst. “Please.”

“You had no right to promise your uncle such a thing.”

“I know, ma’am, I know, but Uncle Stavros... he’s got a knack for getting his way. I guess that he’s been running the family for so long that we’ve all gotten into the habit of doing whatever he says.”

‘This is getting ridiculous,’ Rebecca thought. ‘The easiest thing would be to throw him the hell out of here, but it would be bad for office morale.’ She began to work the ribbon off the box. “Very well, but just for a moment. Then I want you—and it—out of my sight.”

“Yes, ma’am. Thank you.”

She took the paper off carefully, folding it out of old habit and putting it into a desk drawer. The locket was nested in some loose tissue paper—also pink. Rebecca lifted it out and examined it. It was very good work. The chain was a set of fine, silver gray links. The locket, itself, was small, about the size of a half-dollar coin and made from the same metal as the chain. It was round, with the raised image of a book on it. The book had the word “Juris” on it in a fine, gothic font.

“Your uncle does excellent work, Mr. Djanko. I’m truly sorry that I won’t be able to keep it.” She stood up, holding the locket by its chain.

“Thank you, Ms. Sutton. I’ll be sure to tell him how much you liked it.”

Rebecca’s fingers undid the clasp. She lifted the two ends of the chain, one in each hand, and closed the clasp again behind her neck. Her graying hair, done in a fashionable upsweep, was too short to get in her way.

She put her arms at her side and stood still for a moment. “There, Mr. Djanko, now you can—” She suddenly felt very dizzy. She leaned against the desk, using one hand to steady herself, and shook her head to try and clear it.

Her skin from the neck up felt warm, flushed. Her scalp itched. Her hair seemed to be growing; she could feel it tickling the back of her neck. The muscles in her face twitched and stretched, as if they were shifting position under her skin.

She looked over at Djanko. He was just standing there watching. He knew! He knew exactly what was happening to her. In a panic, she tried to remove the locket, but every time her fingers came close to it, her hands began to tremble and shake to the point that she couldn’t grasp it.

“Do you have a mirror, Ms. Sutton,” Djanko asked. “Perhaps a small one in your desk.”

Rebecca nodded. She kept a small hand mirror in a desk drawer to check her appearance before meetings. She pointed to the drawer with an unsteady hand. Djanko took out the mirror and held it up in front of her.

It wasn’t her face that looked back at her.

The woman in the mirror might have been her cousin; there was some family resemblance, especially in the green-gray color and the shape of her eyes. The rest was very different.

She was younger—much younger, in her late twenties, perhaps. Her cheekbones were higher and nose smaller, almost pert. Her jaw was more rounded. Rebecca turned her head slightly. This woman had straight brown hair that framed her face and hung down to her shoulders.

“What? How?” She gently touched her face, watching as the woman in the mirror did the same.

“I... uh, wasn’t entirely truthful with you, Rebecca. I said that Uncle Stavros and the rest of the family were craftsmen. We are... witchcraftsmen. That necklace is magic. It’s what’s changing you.”

“Ridiculous. There’s... there’s no such thing as magic.” Her hands went up to her throat again, but, once more, they began to tremble, so that she couldn’t possibly take off the locket.

“It won’t let you, Rebecca. No matter how hard or how many times you try.” He shook his head. “No, not until the magic is done.”

“You... you mean there’s more?” Why was he calling her by her first name? He was her subordinate, wasn’t he?

“Of course, there’s more, Rebecca, and it should start again about...” He looked at his watch. “...now.”

She felt the dizziness again. This time, though, the odd warmth was spreading through the rest of her body. The room seemed to get bigger. She looked over at Djan... at Stefan. She was shrinking; he was definitely taller than her now.

She looked down, wondering how she looked. Her clothes still seemed to fit. ‘Must be shrinking with me,’ she thought. The clothes were changing, but that was because her body was changing as well.

She felt her center of balance shifting as her waist narrowed and her hips grew wider. Her skirt altered to match her new body; she could feel the dark blue fabric moving as it did. The hem slid slowly upward as she watched, moving from mid-calf to just above her knees. Her no longer knobby knees; her legs were slimmer with a feminine curve they had lacked before. Her pantyhose had changed from flesh-tone to a darker color, and the fabric felt sheerer against her skin.

Now there was a tightness in her chest. Her nipples grew erect. They were more sensitive, as well, for the fabric of her cotton bra seemed rough against them. Then there was a... stretching; that was the only way she could think to describe it. Her blouse and jacket were pushed outward as her breasts grew. Rebecca stared in amazement, as they went from the A-cup they had been since before her fifteenth birthday to what had to be a full C-cup. She felt cloth sliding against them and realized that her bra was changing to fit them, just as her outer garments were. Yes, she could feel the support that they needed now.

“Not bad, not bad at all, Becky.” Stefan said. She looked up and saw him smiling in approval.

Rebecca... no, Becky felt her cheeks flush. Her nipples tingled. She wasn’t worried about the magic anymore. He liked the way she looked now.

“Too bad there isn’t a full-length mirror, so you can see how pretty you are.”

He thought she was pretty! “There is, actually.” She pointed to a corner section of her office wall. There’s a small kitchenette and a shower in there for when I have to work late. The door has a mirror on the back.

“Take a look, then.”

She took a step. It felt odd, off-balance. She looked down to discover that her low shoes now sported a two-inch heel. She carefully took a second step and found that she had no trouble walking in them. She’d seldom worn heels when she was taller. Now, she did. She walked easily, but with a sway to her hips that hadn’t been there before. She glanced behind her and was delighted to see him watching her, as she walked.

She opened the door and stared at the image. “I... I’m beautiful.” She was, and she hugged herself in delight.

“You could see yourself even better without that jacket.”

Her hands quickly worked the buttons on her dark blue suit jacket. She took it off and tossed it onto the counter. Her white silk blouse was still the same, though it strained now to contain her breasts. She put her hands on her hips and posed. Then she posed again, her hands behind her to make her breasts seem even larger.

“They’re very nice, aren’t they?” Stefan asked. “Your breasts, I mean.”

She giggled at the compliment. “Ooh, yes, they are.”

“You should take off your blouse, Becky. Then we... you could see them; you could even touch them.”

She smiled at the thought that he wanted to see her breasts, maybe even as much as she did. A nagging thought at the back of her mind said that it wasn’t right, but she ignored it. After all, this was Stefan.

She posed again, turning her body so she could see both him and her reflection. Then, ever so slowly, she undid one button after the other. As she neared the bottom of the blouse, she began to pull gently at the blouse. When she undid the last button, the blouse hung free of her skirt. It was open in the front, so that part of her bra and the curve of her breasts could be seen.

Stefan was smiling. He liked what he saw; she could tell. She slipped the blouse off her shoulders and let it slip slowly down her body revealing more and more of her.

Her reflection suddenly caught her eye. When she’d dressed in the morning, she had put on a plain, white cotton bra. Now she was wearing a pink confection of silk and lace, a demi-bra that lifted her breasts and made them seem even bigger. The bra itself was cut so low that it barely covered her erect nipples.

Becky couldn’t help herself. Her hands rose up to caress her breasts, kneading them between her fingers. The sensation was overwhelming, and she moaned very softly. A feeling, a warmth, a sexual energy built in her breasts. It flowed out along ever nerve path in her body, but it was the strongest down there, down in her crotch.

“C’mere, Becky, and give me a kiss.”

A kiss? Kiss him, Stefan, her subor... her... her lover? Of course, she would.

She ran over and threw her arms around his neck. She felt his arms around her, and it felt wonderful. Their lips met. Hers parted. His tongue entered dueling with hers. She pressed her body against his. She felt her breasts mashed against the front of his jacket. She rubbed her groin against the bulge she felt growing in his pants.

“That feels nice,” she said. “So nice and so... big.” Her hand reached down, and she ran a finger along the bulge, giggling as it twitched in reaction.

“Would you like to see it?”

“Oooh, could I?”

“Sure, Becky, go ahead.”

She dropped to her knees. Her face was level with his belt buckle. She opened the belt and unbuttoned his pants. Her fingers reached in, so she was holding both his pants and his shorts. With one quick yank, she pulled them both down past his knees and let go.

His erection pointed straight up at her. It was just a few inches from her mouth. She could smell his man scent, and it just made her more horny. His cock was long and thick, just the way... the way she liked it. Didn’t she? She looked up at him hungrily. “C-can I...?”

“Go right ahead… Kiki.”

Kiki leaned forward and kissed the tip of it. Her long, blonde curls fell down over her face, reaching down almost to her breasts. She ran her tongue along the length of it, then underneath to tickle that tender spot where the cock grew out from the balls. She licked them as well, taking them one at a time into her mouth and sucking gently. His scent was even stronger here, and that and the taste of his sweat made her even hotter.

Kiki... that couldn’t be her name... could it? Yes, of course, it was. She licked the drop of pre-cum off the tip of his cock. Then she took him into her mouth, sucking and massaging it with her tongue.

She was so, so incredibly hot. One hand went to her breast, reaching into her bra to play with her nipple. The other reached down past the waistband of her skirt, into her panties. Two fingers slid into her easily; she was wet and ready. She found her clit and began to play with it between her fingers.

Her body was trembling with sexual energy, but she kept on sucking. She felt his cock tremble, then let loose with a flood of warm, salty fluid. It was the bestest stuff she ever tasted, and she sucked harder, trying to swallow it all.

She sucked until his cock began to soften, and he pulled it out. “Kiki, that... that was excellent.”

“Thanks, Mr. Djanko.” Her voice was higher, softer, almost the voice of a child.

“Yes, clean me off, and then we’d better get back to work.”

She held his cock in her hand, carefully licking off the last of the cum. When he began to stiffen again, she tried to put it back into her mouth. If she got him hard again, maybe he would fuck her.

“We really don’t have time for that.” Djanko put his hand on hers, waiting until she released his manhood. Then he reached down and pulled up his shorts, then his pants. He pulled her to her feet. Even in her four-inch heels, she barely came up to his chin.

“Pooh,” she said, pouting her lips. “Can we do it later, Master?”

“Kiki,” he said firmly. “I’ve told you more than once. At the office, you call me ‘Mr. Djanko’, even when we’re alone.” He stopped for a moment to tuck in his shirt. “Now go get dressed. You’ve got typing to do.”

Kiki straightened her skirt. It was a pale blue mini that stopped well up in her thighs, and she pushed it down past the garters that held up her violet stockings. Her matching lycra blouse was in the closet where she’d left it. She put it on and buttoned all but the top two buttons, showing a good bit of her pillowy DD-cup breasts.

Djanko was already sitting behind his desk. As senior associate at Lockwood and Royce and a man well along on the partnership track, he rated his own office and a secretary of his own. Kiki wasn’t the best secretary in the office, not by a long shot, but she had other useful talents.

He watched her hips sway invitingly as she walked over to him. “Is there anything else I can do for you Mas... Mister Djanko, anything at all?” As she spoke, she leaned over, so he could get a good view. Her new silver locket, heart-shaped and with his picture inside, slid well down into the space between her breasts. It almost invited him to reach in for it.

“Ah, yes, Kiki. Let me speak to Rebecca for a moment.”

Kiki straightened up. Her eyes glazed over. “Yes, Master,” she said in a voice without any emotion.

“Rebecca, I want you to work up a strategy brief on Trafton v. deLeon. Detail exactly how the case should be handled and bring it in here on a floppy. Then erase every trace of it from your machine.”

“Yes, Master.”

“Very good. Now bring back Kiki.”

Kiki blinked. She giggled and kissed Djanko on the forehead.

“What was that for?” he asked.

“For this pretty gift.” She held up the locket. She looked younger now, barely twenty. “You tell your uncle that I think it’s cool, and I’m real, real, glad you gave it to me.”

“You’re very welcome, Kiki, but you’re not half as glad as I am.”