by C. C. Piper
By the time I woke up, I was nearing hysteria.
And in just a few hours, I was supposed to be moving in with Richard. My mind was a muddled mess. I didn’t trust him, because he didn’t make sense.
Sure he wanted odd things, but they weren’t depraved or painful.
He could easily find a woman who would want to submit to him. He was a gorgeous man, who was one of the richest in the country.
There were hundreds, maybe thousands of women who would jump at the chance to obey his every word.
They wouldn’t hesitate, like I had. They wouldn’t have the responsibility of raising a younger sibling.
What was his deal with wanting a virgin? Was it some kind of sick and twisted thing? What if he was going to lock me in his house and refuse to let me go?
I didn’t trust anyone but Lily. Certainly not a man.
What had I done, agreeing to this setup? My sister needed me. She was eight years old, in the hospital, and I was moving into a Santa Monica mansion on the beach.
What kind of sister would do that? I didn’t deserve to be her guardian. There’s no way a judge would consider me fit to raise her if they found out I was accepting money to sleep with a rich man.
Whore. I’d heard the men who filed in and out of our lives call my mother that name. How was I any different?
10
Richard
I wanted to be at home when Chrissy arrived to move in. I left the office, letting my secretary and personal assistant assume I had a private meeting.
As soon as I was home, I sent all of the staff away. The day was a balmy seventy-five degrees; I opened the doors to the beach, letting the salty air sweep into the kitchen and eating area. I sniffed the flowers on the countertop, making sure they were still fresh.
I ran my hands over the countertops and rearranged the couch cushions. I stopped myself before I could straighten the dining chairs. My housekeeping staff didn’t know the truth of my arrangement with Chrissy, but I told them my new girlfriend was moving in.
There was no reason for me to check up on their work — they were far better at keeping a house up than I would be, and they never let anything slide, especially not if guests were coming over. They had been intrigued to hear that a girlfriend was moving in, because I’d never had anyone over before Chrissy.
I paced through the courtyard, around the pool and through the flower beds. Chrissy was due to arrive at two p.m., which was just minutes away.
At eleven a.m., my driver had texted to say Chrissy wanted to visit her sister. I wasn’t sure if she was trying to ask my permission, or letting me know as a courtesy. She hadn’t moved in yet, so I didn’t expect her to check in with me. But it was a good sign that she was letting me know.
At exactly two p.m, my security guard knocked on the doorframe that led into the yard.
“Sir. Miss Evans is here.”
I was instantly alert.
John gave us both a polite nod and went back to the foyer.
“Hello Chrissy,” I said. As I expected, she looked beautiful. Although she looked a little tired, and a little less lively than last night. And she wasn’t wearing my clothes yet.
She wore a plain t-shirt and blue jeans. They were faded, but clean. The t-shirt hid her curves and made her look wholesome and innocent.
She looked cute, but I was ready for the day when she wore the clothes I had chosen for her.
“Hello.” She walked to stand next to me, but she didn’t say anything else. She simply stared out at the expanse of the ocean.
Her demeanor was one hundred percent different than last night.
Instead of being curious about the upcoming day, or even nervous about what we’d be doing, her expression was flat. She seemed withdrawn. What had happened in the hours since I’d seen her last?
Had I pushed her too far?
If I had, it was better to find that out now, before we took this any further.
“Is something wrong?”
“No. I’m good.” She grabbed the patio railing and leaned forward, still staring out at the ocean.
She was clearly not fine, and she wasn’t being truthful. “Chrissy, if this is going to work, then I need you to be fully here with me. I need you present, in body and in mind.”
She glanced at me. “I understand.”
A glance was better than nothing. Chrissy had just left the hospital; maybe she was worried about Bella. Maybe she’d feel better if I told her what I’d done for her sister. I hoped she’d be happy, and not feel like I was crossing a line.
“I’m having your sister transferred to the donor floor, where she will get excellent care. All the expenses related to her stay on that floor will be covered. Even if things don’t work out between us, with the trial, your sister will remain on the donor floor, receiving the best care, as long as she needs it. You will have no debt from that.”
Chrissy faced me. One of her hands still gripped the railing. Her mouth was open. Her eyes were wide.
“I don’t know what to say.” She closed her eyes briefly before staring into mine. “I don’t understand. You don’t know me. You don’t know Bella. Why would you do that?”
I exhaled in relief. She wasn’t angry, and didn’t think I’d overstepped.
For the second time in as many days, I found myself wanting to explain my reasons.
“I’m different than other men. I require different things. One of the things I love is having a submissive woman. I want to protect her and care for her. Which in this case is you. You are the submissive woman that I want to take care of. That includes making your life easier, and making sure the people you love are safe.”
She let go of the railing and wrapped her arms around herself. “Haven’t you met other women that could give you that?”
“No. The women I know socially may say they are interested. But at the end of the day, they have their own agenda. They want me because they think I can get them an invitation to the Oscars, or to the Super Bowl. If they’re wealthy enough, there’s nothing I can provide for them, and they rarely appreciate my gestures. And the women I’ve met who aren’t wealthy only want my money.”
“How is that different from me?”
“I approached you.” That made all the difference in the world to me.
“What about colleagues? Peers?”
“I don’t have any true peers at Boswell Industries. I am the CEO; everyone is my subordinate. But I’ve tried dating women in similar positions in their own companies.” It had not gone well. “The women who are my peers in the workforce might enjoy submission in the bedroom, but out of it, they’d never tolerate it. They do not want to be told what to eat, or what to wear.”
Chrissy was chewing on her lip, and her expression was one of curiosity now. I was glad to see that she was fully engaged with me now.
“How so?” she asked.
“For example, if we met in ten years, you’d have your degree, and you’d have passed the bar exam, and you would be practicing law. If you agreed to date me, you’d want a partner. But I’d still want a submissive. So if I told you I wanted you to wear a green dress and eat pasta for dinner, you’d be pretty ticked off. You’d tell me to get lost.”
She smiled. “Maybe. Maybe not.”
“You would. You’d kick me out so fast my head would spin.” It had happened to me before. And it would have happened again, had I persisted. And yes, as Travis had pointed out, there were clubs that specialized in dominance and submission. But the one time I’d visited, the people there had all known each other. Their camaraderie and familiarity with each other left me feeling isolated and alone.
They’d treated their dominance and their submission as a game. As a role they could put on and take off. It wasn’t serious to them. It wasn’t necessary to their lives.
That was not the dynamic I had wanted.
“No one wants to be told what to do all the time. But that’s the only way I know to make this work. I need to know where I stand. I
won’t end up like my —” I caught myself, realizing how close I was to mentioning my father.
Chrissy was staring at me with her eyebrows drawn together. She’d obviously heard me stop myself, but she was smart enough not to ask.
“From our limited time together, I feel like you might be that person for me.”
I’d said enough. Chrissy had opened up and chatted with me. I didn’t want to overwhelm her. I needed to give her some space.
Earlier, I had discreetly texted my housekeeper and let her know that I needed her back. I didn’t really need her help, but I thought Chrissy might feel better with a female presence in the house. When she arrived, I asked her to escort Chrissy to her room. I was willing to spend the evening alone. I had pushed Chrissy quite a bit, and I didn’t want to lose the progress we’d made.
“I’m glad you’re here,” I said. “My housekeeper is going to escort you to your room. The chef’s number is in your phone. When you’re ready, let her know and she’ll serve you there.”
Chrissy thanked me, and then she was gone.
I was eager to engage with her, but I needed to remember how young she was, how inexperienced she was, and how much stress she was under with her sister’s illness.
11
Chrissy
The housekeeper pushed open the door to my room, and the first thing I noticed was how new everything smelled. I could detect the scent of lumber, fresh paint and new carpet.
The second thing I noticed was how big the room was. It was gigantic; it was really more of a suite than a bedroom. It contained a king-sized bed, an attached bathroom, a sitting area, a closet, and a small eating area. The walk-in closet alone was bigger than my apartment.
The bed frame was white, and the bedspread was gray with blush pink sheets. The floor was a slate colored hardwood, but it was covered with a shaggy gray carpet.
Cut flowers sat on the dresser. They were blush pink, the same color as the sheets. I stepped into the closet, taking in the designer clothes. Dresses hung on the right, blouses on the left. Pants and t-shirts were folded inside the drawers. Everything smelled like lavender. In the center was a dressing table that matched the bed. It was stocked with top-of-the-line hair products and makeup.
I picked up an eyeliner pencil. It was the same brand I’d seen at the club where the Wish Maker worked her magic. I wondered if she’d had a hand in choosing all of my belongings here.
Back in the main room, I sat on the bed. Richard had really gone above and beyond for me.
The tiny details in making a room special for me meant a lot, but the fact that he was going to upgrade Bella’s care — that was monumental. He didn’t have to do that. I hadn’t even know it was an option. But now my sister was going to be in better hands, with staff trained in transplant issues, thanks to him.
Richard told me I could eat dinner in my room. I think he saw it as a kindness to me, and not a dismissal. He was trying, in his own way, to make me feel comfortable.
And in return, I could try for him. I could get dressed up, and go have dinner with him.
I could play the role he wanted.
Unlike the women he’d dated before, I wouldn’t view submitting as a weakness. Just another choice I’d had to make.
I went back into my closet. I looked at each cocktail dress, running my hand over them one by one. I had worn black last time. This time I would wear blue, to match my eyes.
The bathroom was as lavish as everything else in my room. The room was much more feminine than the rest of the house — I suspected it had been recently decorated in anticipation of the Wish Maker finding someone for Richard. The floor was gray tile, and everything else was white. White soaking tub, white tiled shower, plush white towels with gray stripes.
Inside the shower were an array of shampoos, conditioners, and body washes. I put my clothes into the hamper, which was wooden and smelled of cedar. I’d have to remember not to toss any wet clothes inside. I’d never had a hamper. Bella and I tossed our dirty clothes into a lopsided plastic tub.
I washed and conditioned my hair, sampling each of the rich shampoos. I shaved my legs and exfoliated my skin.
After I was dry, I found a round brush in the drawer and tried to replicate what the Wish Maker’s staff had done to my hair.
I picked up my phone and scrolled through the contacts. “Diana Smith — Chef — Boswell Santa Monica Beach Home.” I had to smile at the detail. It was unlikely that I’d get her mixed up, not having any other chefs in my life. At the restaurants where I worked, the employees in the kitchen had been referred to as cooks. Although maybe Richard had other homes, and multiple chefs.
I sent her a text, letting her know that I would be dining downstairs with Richard, and not in my room. It was profoundly odd to know someone else would be fixing my food.
Downstairs, I found Richard at the empty dining table. “Are you planning to join me?” he asked. His eyes raked over me, up and down, several times. He shifted in his chair. It appeared as though I’d chosen my dress well.
“If that’s okay with you.”
He didn’t smile, but his eyes lit up. “Of course.”
As I sat next to him, Diana entered with the spread for that evening, which included orange basil salmon, grilled asparagus, and glazed brussel sprouts. For dessert, she served a lemon pudding.
Once we’d thanked her and begun eating, I turned toward Richard. “I wanted to say thank you for what you did for Bella. The healthier she is before the transplant, the better. Being on the transplant floor is a godsend.”
“You’re welcome.”
“And thank you for the lovely room upstairs. I’ve never had my own room before.” We’d bounced around a lot when I was younger. Sometimes we ended up in studio apartments, all three of us crammed into one squalid space.
“You’re welcome for that too.” Richard didn’t elaborate, although he seemed open to conversation.
I had no idea what to say or do. Richard was pretty reserved, but most people like talking about their job. “How was work today?” I asked.
“It was fine overall. A little tense at times.”
“What happened? Can you talk about it?”
“Yes, I can. It’s all public knowledge. One of our shareholders accused us of violating our fiduciary duty because we took some risks he didn’t think were prudent. I explained to him that we didn’t build Boswell Industries by playing it safe. In the end, he was satisfied, and I don’t think he’ll file a complaint. I’m confident we did the right thing by our investors, but I’d rather not have to explain myself in court.”
“I didn’t understand all that, but I’d like to.”
Richard got up and fixed himself a glass of whiskey then came back to the table. “I thought that might be pretty boring.”
“No! Even though it won’t be my major, I’m looking forward to the day when I can take economics. I know so little about the world outside of school and the social services system. I want to learn about banking, the stock market, and financial planning.”
“I can teach you about all of those things.”
“Really?”
“Yes. I have a degree in Applied Mathematics and Economics. And an MBA from Harvard.”
“Wow.” Richard had gone away to an Ivy League school. “That’s impressive.”
“My father insisted that I understand the decisions we made within Boswell Industries. He got the same degree when he was young. So I went as well.”
“Did you ever want to be anything else?”
He ducked his head. I think he even blushed a little; it was so cute. But there was no way I’d point that out. “You can tell me. I won’t tell anyone. Was it an astronaut? Everyone wants that at some point. Although I’m not sure I did.”
“No. I wanted to be a teacher. I had a guy as my seventh grade English teacher, and he really made an impression on me.”
“Did your dad not want that for you?”
“I never told him. I think he’d ha
ve supported me no matter what. He’d probably have been disappointed. My whole life, he talked about how I’d take over the company. But at the end of the day, I wanted to work with my father.”
Richard’s body language changed when he talked about his father. He was less stiff, more open. “And you loved working with him?”
“Yes. I got to work with him for more than five full years.”
“You could always have a second career. Be a teacher.”
He smiled as though he was amused at my suggestion, but I had the feeling he was secretly pleased.
I was wrong about him. Richard Boswell was not a one-dimensional rich guy only out for himself. He was smart, thoughtful, and he had adored his father; even if he didn’t share himself easily. He wasn’t nearly as much of a robot as I’d originally thought.
12
Richard
I was pleasantly surprised that Chrissy had joined me for dinner. I could tell she was touched by my having moved Bella to a floor better suited to her care, and pleased with the room I had set up for her in my home.
And I’d been right about seeing her in clothing I’d chosen. The blue cocktail dress was the same shade as her eyes. Seeing her in that dress, knowing I’d picked it out, paid for it, and had it hung in her closet aroused me. She hadn’t fought me on the clothing at all.
Some women would have argued that it was an impractical dress, and not comfortable for wearing at home. But if I had my way, she would only wear clothing I had directly chosen.
We ate the dinner Diana had prepared, and Chrissy seemed to enjoy it as much as she’d enjoyed the lamb last night. As we dined together, our conversation flowed easily, but a new tension built up between us. An attraction to each other, and an awareness of the possibilities.