by S. J. Hooks
“Can I go over to Luke’s house?” he asks, jumping up and down. “It’s really close. His mom’s boss got him a really cool room! He’s got a race-car bed too, and a TV! Please?”
Lila’s eyes meet mine, and I feel like withering beneath her blue stare. “You’re living with Simon?”
I can’t very well lie about it and give her a weak nod. My neck feels hot as she assesses me, a frown on her face.
“I’ve seen you before …” she trails off, looking pensive.
Oh, God. I grab Luke’s hand, doing my best to fight the panic I’m feeling. “We should get going,” I manage. “It was nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you too,” Dave says with a friendly smile. “Tell your boss to call me about a game sometime soon, all right?”
I say yes, although I have no idea if he’s referring to watching a game or playing one. Mustering up all my courage, I look at Lila again. After a few seconds, her expression warms, and she gives me small smile.
“We have to go too. I’m sure I’ll see you around,” she says, holding my gaze.
I manage to nod. I watch as they collect the toys they brought and walk off in the same direction from where we came. Luke plays a little more afterward, but it’s not as fun with me as it was with a boy his own age, so we head home soon, my head still swimming with thoughts of what just transpired.
About an hour after we’ve gotten back, Mr. Thorne catches me in the kitchen as I’m finishing making his breakfast. He looks refreshed and handsome in slacks and a pullover, his hair still slightly damp.
“Luke?” he inquires as he enters.
“In his room. Where would you like to eat?”
“Here’s fine,” he says, motioning to the kitchen table.
I serve him breakfast and coffee, and clean up while he eats. I smile as I retrieve his empty plate, happy that he liked the food I prepared for him.
“Thank you. Please join me when you’re ready.”
I nod mutely, clearing away his plate before bringing my own mug to the table and refilling his at the same time.
“Thank you,” he says again. “You’re very thoughtful, Abigail.”
“I try.”
His eyes are warm as he gazes at me. “You succeed, sweet girl.”
I don’t know what to say, so I end up simply smiling at him.
“So,” he begins, straightening in his seat. “I’d like to thank you for coming over this weekend. I’ve had a lovely time.”
“Me, too. I’m sorry it didn’t go exactly as planned.”
He waves his hand, taking a sip of his coffee. “It went just fine. How has it been for you?” he asks, regarding me over the rim of his mug.
“Good,” I reply. “You’ve made us feel really welcome here.”
“Because you are,” he says simply.
“Thank you, Sir.”
“I’d like the two of you to move in here permanently so we can continue our arrangement. Have you thought beyond this weekend?” he inquires, cupping the mug between his hands. He appears casual, but there’s something about the look in his eyes as he watches me. Uncertainty, maybe?
I have thought about it. A lot. If I reject his offer, what would the future look like? Luke and I would go back to Jo and Thomas’, mooching off them for God knows how long until the state concludes Patrick isn’t in our lives, financially or otherwise. And then what? I get another cheap apartment in a bad neighborhood and look for low-paying work. Even if I were able to someday get a scholarship to go to school, I’d still have to cover our living expenses. I’d always be scraping by, living hand-to-mouth, afraid to shut my eyes at night and unable to breathe easily. Here, I have a chance, a real chance for a better life. To save up and one day make something of myself. It’s not the route I would have chosen, but now that I’m here I can’t bring myself to regret it. I would miss the man sitting across from me. Desperately. I want to be with him, and at the same time create opportunities for me and my son, and it seems like this is the only way to do that.
“Yes, I have,” I whisper. “And I accept your offer.”
Mr. Thorne’s shoulders drop and he exhales slowly as a smile spreads across his handsome face. “You’ll come and live here?”
“Yes. There’s, uh, just one thing, though.”
“What is it?”
“I … I need a contract.”
Mr. Thorne’s mouth opens as he inhales, sitting up a little straighter again. “A contract?” he asks, frowning a little. “Abigail, I’m not asking you to stay here as my submissive. That’s not what I want from you. If that’s—”
“No!” I gasp.
“No?”
“That’s not what I meant at all. I didn’t even know … they have contracts for that?”
“Yes,” he answers calmly.
“Oh. I just meant like a work contract. If people ask.”
“People?”
“We met your neighbors at the playground today. I was talking to the woman, Lila, and your name slipped out. They know we’re staying here, me and Luke.”
He watches me impassively.
“Aren’t you worried what they’ll think? What everyone will think?” I ask. “I mean, if they suspect something is going on?”
Lila suspects. I’m sure of it.
He shrugs, taking a sip of his coffee. “No.”
“No?”
“One of the perks of becoming older, Abigail, is that you care a lot less about what other people think of you. But,” he adds, giving me a smile, “if it will make you feel better, we can certainly make a contract for your employment here. Did you have something specific in mind?”
“I told them I was your housekeeper,” I admit. The more I think about it, the more I like the idea of a contract. I have to think of this as a real job, which it is, so making everything official makes a lot of sense.
“That’s fine. What about the salary?”
“Just what you’d pay a regular housekeeper.” I can see that he’s about to protest, so I continue, “There’s going to be an official investigation at some point, to prove that I’m not receiving child support from Luke’s father, so they’re probably going to be looking into my finances. Everything has to be completely by the book: the salary, taxes, and so on.”
He nods, thankfully agreeing. “All right. Hiring you as a housekeeper works. On paper, at least.”
“Only on paper?”
“Well, I already have a cleaning service and a laundry service, so I don’t need you to do any of that. Cooking will be plenty.” He gives me an expectant look, and I realize we’re now negotiating the terms of my position here. It’s not like I’m dying to clean this huge house on my own, so it’s sort of nice he has other people for that.
“I’d like to do your laundry,” I tell him.
“My suits go to the dry cleaner.”
“Your underwear and socks, then, and your casual clothes, like jeans and T-shirts.”
“You want to wash my underwear?” he asks with a grin. “Fold my socks?”
“Yes, Sir.”
He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. All humor has vanished from his features. “Why do I find that so fucking hot?” he whispers.
He reaches out and takes my right hand, tracing a circle in my palm. Even this slight contact makes my heart jump and my breathing speed up.
“I … I don’t know.”
“You feel it too, don’t you? When I touch you?”
“Yes, Sir,” I breathe. “I’m not sure I understand it.”
“Attraction, desire, longing,” he murmurs, running his finger up the inside of my forearm, making my skin contract underneath his touch. “You want my hands on you. You like how it makes you feel when I take control over you. When I dominate you.”
“But . . .” I close my eyes for a moment, trying to regain my wits. “You don’t want a submissive.”
“I don’t want you to act according to the rules of a contract,” he says softly. “I don’t
want to control every aspect of your life and punish you when you fail to meet those rules. You don’t need a list of written rules to be what I want.”
“What do you want, then?” I manage.
“Just you, being yourself. You’re naturally submissive, Abigail.”
I begin to pull my arm back, about to protest.
“That’s not a bad thing,” he says in a firm voice, holding my hand in his. “I can tell it upsets you, but I don’t know why.”
“It scares me,” I admit. “I don’t know what it means for me in the bigger picture.”
“Nothing necessarily. It doesn’t define every aspect of who you are,” he explains. “It just means you like it when your partner takes control during sex, and you naturally put the needs of others before your own.”
“Only with you,” I whisper. “My ex—I didn’t like it when he tried telling me what to do.”
Mr. Thorne makes a face, curling his lips in obvious disgust. “He didn’t treat you well, did he?”
I shake my head.
“He didn’t deserve you. You have to respect someone to let them take charge, but it works the other way around too. I respect you, Abigail. I don’t see you in any way inferior to me. I know from someone on the outside, someone who doesn’t understand the dynamics of this arrangement of ours, it might not seem that way, but it’s the truth. I’m very happy you’ve chosen to share that part of yourself with me.”
“I am too, but I’m still not sure how we do this. You’ll hire me as a housekeeper, but what about the, uh, rest? What do you expect of me?”
“I expect that you’ll try to make it upstairs by nine o’clock every night I’m home, and that you’ll cater to my needs, as long as they don’t interfere with the needs of your son.”
I exhale, feeling my shoulders drop. Knowing that I’ll be able to always put Luke’s needs first is a huge relief and my main concern, though not my only one.
“What about the … actual sex?” I whisper. “Your expectations?”
“I expect for you to trust me,” he says seriously. “I know you’re inexperienced, and I’ll remember that. Tell me, is there anything we’ve done that you haven’t enjoyed?”
I shake my head. I’ve more than enjoyed it all.
“Even last night?” he asks, raising his eyebrows. “You enjoyed everything?”
I blush furiously, knowing exactly what he’s referring to. “Y-yes,” I stutter, looking anywhere but at him.
“No need to be embarrassed,” he says, taking my hand again. “Nothing between us is off-limits if it makes us both feel good, all right?”
I look back up, drawing a breath before nodding.
“If I ever want to go beyond what we’ve done, I’ll check in with you first. I won’t ever do anything more without your strict permission. How does that sound?”
“Good, Sir,” I say, relieved. I truly have enjoyed everything, but going beyond some of what we’ve done so far is a daunting thought.
“Do you trust me, Abigail?”
“I … really want to, Sir,” I say honestly.
The corners of his mouth turn down ever so slightly. He’s displeased. I can’t help that, though. He wants the truth from me.
“I’ve been taking care of myself and Luke for a really long time. Even before I got pregnant, I felt like I only had myself to rely on,” I explain. “I don’t trust people easily.” I motion around his beautiful kitchen. “You offer me all of this, and it just seems way too good to be true. I guess I’m still waiting for the other shoe to drop, for you to do something awful or demand something outrageous of me.”
“Thank you for being honest,” he says, giving my hand a squeeze. “That’s the most important thing. Everything else we’ll figure out along the way, as long as we’re open with each other.”
“You make it sound so simple.”
“It is. I want this to work out.” He draws a deep breath. “The truth is, Abigail, that I’m tired of coming home to an empty house at the end of the day.”
I can definitely relate to that. I’ve always had Luke with me but I’ve been lonely a lot of nights, wishing there was someone there I could talk to, or just share the couch with. Sometimes I’d turn the TV on just to create the illusion of company, and even wished Luke would wake up so he could fall asleep again in my arms. So yes, I definitely understand what he’s saying. But what I don’t understand is why he wants to pay someone to fill that void.
“I understand. But why this sort of, er, arrangement?” I dare to ask. “I mean, why not just get a girlfriend?”
“I don’t think I’d have much to offer in a romantic relationship,” he says matter-of-factly.
His words make me frown. Not much to offer? He’s generous and kind, sexy and rich. From where I’m sitting, Mr. Thorne is the whole package.
“You don’t agree?”
“No, Sir. I don’t understand why you’d say that. I think you’d make a great boyfriend.”
He purses his lips, taking a long pause. “I work all the time. I’m sure you must have noticed that.”
I nod.
“I’m at the office fifty to sixty hours a week, and that’s just when I’m in the city. I travel a lot too. I don’t have time to date. And even if I did, I’d have a hard time finding a woman who’s willing to put up with my schedule, as well as …” He folds his hands on the table, hesitating. “I like things a certain way, and I know my preferences aren’t conventional. I want a woman who will cater to my needs, sexual and otherwise, without complaint. More so, I want a woman who wants to do that, who enjoys my kind of sex and wants to take care of me. And she’d have to be okay with my schedule. The last thing I need is to feel guilty for not being around when I’m working.”
He takes a sip of his coffee, which must be pretty cold by now. “Maybe that makes me selfish. But that’s what I want. I’ve worked very hard to get where I am today, and I don’t want to compromise.” He looks straight at me. “With you, I believe I can have exactly what I’ve always wanted.”
Taking my hand in his again, he continues, “You’ll be here for me when I come home, you’ll cook for me, serve me, dress up for me if I tell you to. When I take control, you’ll love it. When I fuck you the way I want, you’ll beg for more.” His words are harsh, but his expression is open and unguarded, and the way his thumb caresses my hand is gentle. He’s so contradictory.
“Are you trying to scare me away?” I whisper. He’s not telling me anything I don’t already know, so I don’t understand why he feels the need to say this.
“No.” He sighs softly. “But I do want you to understand what you’re saying yes to. You said this was too good to be true, making it sound almost like a fairytale. I assure you it’s not. I’ll be away a lot working, but when I’m here, I expect you to be available to me between nine and midnight, as well as during the day when your son isn’t around. This will be your home too, but also where you work.”
I nod silently.
“Do you really want to do this?” he asks.
“Yes, Sir.”
“Even though it means no dating or relationships?”
I snort indelicately. “Who’d wanna date me? I’m a penniless single mother on the verge of homelessness.”
Mr. Thorne gives me a chastising look.
“All I care about is my son’s well-being. I’m grateful you’ve accepted him so easily.”
“I’ll admit it will take some getting used to having a child in the house, but I doubt our paths will cross all that much with me mostly upstairs and you two down here. He’s a nice boy, Abigail. You’ve done a good job with him.”
His praise surprises me just as much as it pleases me. “Thank you. I’ll have to talk to Luke first. If he doesn’t want to live here—”
“Of course,” Mr. Thorne says without hesitation.
“I think he’d probably like to stay here, though.”
“So if he wants to live here, you will?”
I nod my head
and he gives me a big smile, then pulls out his phone and types for a few seconds. I realize he’s making notes.
“Now, is there anything from your apartment that you need here?” he asks.
I shake my head. I took everything of importance when Mr. Thorne drove us to Jo’s apartment earlier this week.
“Good. I’ll find storage and hire movers. Did you pay a deposit when you moved in?”
“I think so.”
“Write down the name of your landlord before I leave for work tomorrow, and I’ll see about getting it back when you’re moving out.”
Wow. “Just like that? You really think that’s possible?”
Mr. Thorne nods. “Despite the … condition of the building, you kept it up nicely as far as I could tell. If he wants to keep the deposit, he’ll have to prove that you’ve damaged what he intends to repair.”
“Thank you, Sir. That’s … thank you so much.”
He waves me off, returning his attention to his phone. After a few seconds of swiping his finger back and forth across the screen, he focuses on me again. “I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of making an appointment for you and Luke at the school down the street.”
“I don’t mind at all,” I say, beaming at him. “When?”
“Tomorrow at noon.”
“Wow, that’s soon.”
Mr. Thorne gives me a wry smile. “I don’t play fair, remember?”
I grin back at him, loving how lighthearted he can be at times. My heart is lighter than it’s been in a long time. Luke is going to go to school, just like any other kid.
“Do you know how much the tuition is?” I ask.
“I’ll take care of it.”
“Sir, I—”
He holds up his hand, leveling me with his eyes. “Don’t fight me on this, Abigail. The school is expensive. There’s no way you’d be able to afford it on a regular housekeeper’s salary. I want you and your son taken care of. It’s as simple as that. So let me.”
Is it really that simple, though? It’s not something a regular boss would say. Does it mean he cares about us, even just a little?
“I was just going to say thank you,” I whisper.