"Thank you, Punjab," Oliver gave a tired smile as he handed his hat to his body guard and began to remove his coat. He was still mulling over the proposal he had discussed over dinner with his longtime friend Henry Ford when he heard the unmistakable throaty laughter of his personal secretary coming from the sitting room. He followed the sound, noting the time on his watch: ten minutes to midnight. In the sitting room, a fire roared brightly, there he found Grace Ferrell, lying on the sofa, wrapped in the passionate embrace of a handsome young man, hair askew and dress wrinkled. From here he could see the eager hands of her companion groping her bottom as she kissed him and groaned in delight. Oliver could feel his blood begin to boil. "Ahem," he cleared his throat loudly, "what is the meaning of this?" Oliver had heard that Grace was being courted by a young naval officer, but he had not had the misfortune of seeing this gentleman himself.

"Oh my, Mister Warbucks, I didn't hear you come in," Grace shot up to standing, straightening her skirt, unable to meet her employer's gaze.

"I'm so-sorry," the man stuttered and put out his hand, trying his best to compose himself "my name is Lieutenant James Winston, I'm pleased to meet your acquaintance." Few men were tall enough to meet Oliver's gaze without looking up, but James was just as tall. He had piercing blue eyes and broad shoulders, thickly muscled from years of physical labor.

Oliver looked the man up and down with disgust. He could see his obvious arousal bulging against the front of his pants. He ignored his greeting, and turned to his secretary.

"Miss Ferrell, I believe it is time for your visitor to take his leave. You will put yourself together and I will see you in my office in fifteen minutes' time," Oliver barked.

"Yes sir," she gave James a silent nod and headed to her room. She felt a surge of hormones and adrenaline coursing through her body, making it difficult to think. She splashed some water on her face and tried to pin her hair back up into a presentable bun, but her hands were still shaking. She gave up and quickly ran a brush through her long brown curls. She took a few deep breaths to calm her nerves, and went to Oliver's office.

She opened the door to find him contemplating a dram of scotch at his desk.

"Miss Farrell, are you under the impression that I am running a brothel?" Oliver started without preamble.

"I beg your pardon?" Grace's mouth hung open in astonishment.

"You think I am some kind of fool? Fucking that man in my sitting room?! I will not have such immoral activity occurring under my roof!" Oliver barked.

Grace stood up from her chair, and leaned over the desk into the face of her employer, "Mister Warbucks! How dare you accuse me of immoral behavior, you hypocritical bastard! You entertain more ladies in your bed than I can even count! If anyone is a whore, it is you."

"How dare you speak to me in such a way! What I do is of no concern to you. This is my house and you are my employee. As long as you live here, you will respect my rules-"

"Your house, indeed," Grace cut in. "I suppose I won't be staying here much longer as James and I are engaged to be married."

Oliver looked at her hand, where a shiny bauble winked in the light. "Married?" the news hit him like a bucket of ice water.

"I suppose after he's ruined you, you have to marry him. Is little James Jr. on the way already?" he mused.

"You can hang the sheets from our wedding night from the Warbucks mansion. I have not so dishonored myself, sir," she growled through gritted teeth.

A virgin, at her age? Could it be true? Oliver wondered. He had always held this secret fantasy about Grace. Finding her untouched, he could feel his manhood hardening. Her lips and cheeks were flushed and her bosoms heaved with every breath. He found her absolutely ravishing. He knew he had to get her out of his office quickly before she realized his predicament.

"Well then….I suppose a congratulations are in order," Oliver changed course and held up his glass in a cheers. "That will be all, Miss Ferrell."

"Wha? Ok. Good night, Mr. Warbucks," Grace left his office confused, her head swimming.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Mr. Warbucks pulled down his pants. He stroked his thick member to relive the ache he felt. He knew his reaction had been one of jealousy and he was embarrassed by his own behavior. He had to make things right with her, but he wasn't sure where to start. He came hard in his hand as he imagined being the first to take Grace. If only, he thought, finishing the last of his scotch and leaning back into his chair.