“No, no. I think I’m good.”
The voice in the background started again, and Carrie rustled the phone.
“Are you safe?”
“Oh, yeah. All is great!” Something about her words didn’t ring true.
“Okay. Will I see you on Monday?”
“Sure,” she said, and hung up.
I tapped the desk with my fingernails and let out the breath I didn’t even realize I’d held.
“You okay?” Maddie leaned into my cubicle, offering the box of chocolates she kept in her desk drawer.
I tossed the message slip and made a mental note to call Carrie again before I left work for the day. “I’m not sure. It was a weird phone call,” I said.
I grabbed a chocolate and popped it into my mouth, and Maddie nodded.
“Hate those. Let me know if I can help. I’ve got a mountain of paperwork, but you know I’m yours if you need it.”
“Thanks.”
Maddie walked back to her desk and I turned my computer screen on, then pulled up my contact document to log the phone call with Carrie.
I hoped my assessment of her demeanor was a trigger reflex, and not something to be concerned about...but worry inched its way through me while I documented the call. I couldn’t shake it, so before I went back to the case I’d been focused on that morning, I sent Dean a text.
Hi you. How’s it going over there?
I opened a couple of documents on my screen, hoping I might hear back while I procrastinated. Dean’s response came fast, and I couldn’t help but relax a little in my chair.
Hey. I’m fine. On site. How are you?
So-so. Weird client stuff.
All okay?
I pursed my lips in contemplation. I couldn’t tell him details, but the couple of times I’d mentioned rougher cases, he’d been receptive.
I hope so...? I typed.
He sent a frown emoji and typed, Sending a big hug and kiss, if it helps. Surrounded at the moment... Call you tonight?
I’d love that. Thank you.
My pleasure. I’ll be thinking of you till then. Best of luck over there.
You too. XX
X back.
I put away my phone and scooted closer to my computer desk with a huge exhalation.
It didn’t erase my worry, but it was nice to have a shot of Dean’s warmth to take off some of the edge.
* * *
“How was the rest of your day?”
I dropped my purse on the table after arriving at my house, grinning at the welcome sound of Dean’s voice. “It was pretty good. Yours?”
“Fine. Got another new contract,” he said.
“Wow. That’s wonderful!” I sat on my couch, happy for him and impressed he kept snagging contract after contract.
He continued, giddy as a child. “The bid for this one was far more rigorous than I’ve worked through in a while. It’s a huge apartment complex in the city. I’m thinking it’ll be a full-scale project, like the one in the Financial District we’re finishing up.” He’d explained this one previously—a beautiful high-rise apartment complex located two blocks off the Embarcadero. I hadn’t seen it yet, but I knew the area. It had major potential for incoming residents.
“You’re going to be the master of Bay Area architecture at this rate.”
Dean chuckled. “I like your dream for me.”
“I’m serious. But your project—it’s in the city. Is it pricey?”
“San Francisco is always pricey. The preliminary estimates for this one should be insane, even if I do my best to curb them. Luckily, the client doesn’t care much. He’s claimed he’d like to give me more freedom on this. Should be great.”
From what Dean had described, being an architect wasn’t as glamorous as I’d imagined. Regardless, he’d aspired to be one since Niko had shared the interest with him years ago.
“It does sound great.”
“Thank you. So, what happened earlier? All okay?” He paused. “Drama that required a bodyguard at the office? I could be your bodyguard.”
I chuckled. Our conversations over the past few weeks were broadening into tempered day-to-day things, too. I liked the mix. I just worried sometimes that I was falling too deep.
Like right now, grinning like an idiot at the protective commentary Dean made.
“You’re sweet, but I think I’m okay. No crazy client sessions to worry about.” I thought about my phone call with Carrie for a second. “I did have a strange phone call with one, though, right before I texted. I’m hoping it doesn’t mean anything...”
Dean gave a concerned grunt. “Uh-oh.”
I pushed the thought aside. “It’s probably fine. Hopefully fine.”
“Hope so. I can’t imagine how you deal with what you see.”
“I guess because it’s all for good, you know? And other than that, it’s honestly been a light client week. I’ve been doing outreach in local clinics and schools.”
“That’s a nice change, right? Do you like it?”
“I do. I love helping my clients. Even though the stories and situations are extreme, I prefer this side of things.”
“Well, I think it’s all extremely noble,” he said.
“And I think your job is glamorous. So we’ll have to accept mutual admiration of one another’s careers. Sound good?”
“How about mutual admiration of one another instead?”
“Deal,” I said, appreciating the slight change of subject.
“Speaking of...” Dean practically purred, and I chuckled. Our encounters were unpredictable, but his transitions into arranging them had become endearing in their lack of subtlety.
“I feel a new assignment coming on,” I teased.
“Of course you do. Because you’re mine.”
As if he’d reached through the phone and grabbed my chin again, I stilled.
Dean ignited my lust with the serious, silent way he considered his words. Our last evening together had shifted things for me—now I was compelled to follow his lead, to please him. I’d sunk so far into this connection, there was no question.
I was his.
“Let’s carry our last experience further,” he said.
“Which part?”
“All of it. I love this exploration with you. I want to keep finding ways to draw you out, to pull that sexual creature inside you to the surface and push aside all the rest.”
I swallowed hard.
“Does that arouse you? Me pushing you in this way?”
It was easy to assent. I loved the escape, and how he’d ripped me out from my comfort zone into a whole new world of adventures even he hadn’t fully tried. “Yes.”
“Fantastic.” I pictured him stewing on the other end of the line, the master of possibilities. “We’re going to launch this one differently,” he said.
“Oh?”
“Mmm-hmm. Let’s pick a date, but all your other instructions will come by text.”
“Like a mission.”
“Yes, like a mission,” he confirmed.
I rolled the thought around in my head. “Have you gone full Dom on me, Dean?”
He snickered. “Pick a date. Any day is yours.” He remained silent for a few seconds and then said, “And you will be punished for your sassiness.”
* * *
The next day, Dean sent brief texts every two hours to prepare me for my assignment:
Saturday night. San Francisco, 11 pm.
We’ll meet in a public place. Address to come.
You will wear a snug, short skirt, any color.
Wear a bustier or corset, your choice.
The last one came in the afternoon, and I’d stared at it for a while. I had a
tight black skirt that hadn’t left my closet in a couple of years, but I didn’t own a bustier or corset.
When I texted him back to tell him so, he told me to buy one and offered to pay me back. I shied away from the offer, but he insisted that it was for him as much as me before raising the stakes.
In return, you must come without panties on.
Lust barreled through me. Our late date would allow me some daytime shopping, but how I’d manage the wait to see him after, I didn’t know. Either way, the request made my face hot. I glanced up from my phone, grateful my cubicle provided a semi-wall of privacy to hide behind when I typed back to tell him I was maddeningly intrigued.
Dean was silent the rest of the day, which excited me more. The experience of being sent orders for our upcoming encounter made me curious. Plus, his ideas thus far had wound me up in ways I couldn’t believe, so my inclination to follow them furthered the sensation. Where did he come up with these things? And more importantly, how did they fascinate me so? For the rest of the day I focused on my work, attempting to quell the barrage of questions that built up in my head, and through the few more hinty but vague texts he sent that night.
But Saturday, I woke up electrified.
There were lingerie boutiques in the Castro Valley where Selby and I often went to shop, and after I dressed, I hopped in my car.
It took several stores and a plethora of time in dressing rooms, but ultimately, I found what I sought—a black satin “fashion” corset. The perfect blend of corset and bustier, its steel hooks and mock boning gave the look of a corset without the cinch. I’d tried on authentic corsets in the past, and though I loved their fit, I’d hoped to buy an expensive, well-made one in the future. Maybe if Dean and I continued down our path, I’d go there. But for now, the bustier suited me fine. It had straps to complement a built-in bra, which gave my breasts the ultimate lift. Paired with the skirt I already had, the outfit would look vampy and sultry.
I gazed in the dressing room mirror, imagining how Dean would react. The urge to touch myself overpowered me, but the dressing room attendant shocked me back to reality.
“Everything okay in there?” she asked.
“I’m fine, thanks!” I swiftly loosened the top and dressed. On the way to the cash register, I gave the store a once over. My eyes lingered on a section of toys and books in the back, and I dropped my purchase on the counter before heading to the wall to peruse. The clerk was so caught up in her texting she didn’t acknowledge me.
While the boutique’s selection on the back wall was minimal, they did have a vast display of books propped on the shelves. There were erotic anthologies, how-to manuals and several artistic collections on sexuality that were beautifully bound, but an illustrated handbook on Japanese bondage caught my eye.
I took it down and flipped through the pages, rich, full-color photos showing various styles alongside line-by-line instructions. The images fascinated me. They were a combination of erotic and shocking, but gorgeous all the same. Breasts, thighs and feet were bound, with coils of rope wrapped in amazing ways that left the skin around them protruding and full. I recognized the method Dean had tied my legs in the first night at my house, and though I assumed his sailing background had lent itself to the knots he’d used on my wrists, I’d wondered where he’d learned the frog-style binding. It was one of many ties the book described, each of them speeding my breath.
I flipped to the second half of the book. The entire section was dedicated to decorative body harnesses, and I gaped at the more decadent designs, trailing my fingers over styles that turned the wearer into a work of art. I imagined tying myself up like this for Dean, and a flash of arousal racked my groin.
Maybe I was over enthused, or maybe it would sit on a shelf—but I wanted the book.
Why not?
When I got home, I tucked it away and threw the bustier on my bed with a sigh.
There were seven more hours until my date with Dean, and with the quiver working through me since I’d started shopping that morning, it felt like seven years away.
* * *
August nights in San Francisco were tolerable but on the chilly side, even with the warm days we had until late in the fall. So while I stood waiting for Dean on the curb, I was grateful for my light trench coat.
Considering I wore black stiletto heels, a revealing bustier, a short skirt and nothing underneath, I hadn’t had much of a choice.
I tightened my arms around me, less to keep out the breeze than to calm my nerves. Dean had texted at ten as I’d gathered my purse to leave. His message had been short, containing the address of where I should go plus four alluring words:
Be my kitten tonight.
The car ride had aroused me, my mind running amok with his potential definitions of kitten. It didn’t help that I’d driven with no panties, which made it even more difficult to concentrate in my anticipation.
Another breeze blew by, and I turned back to the entrance of the address Dean had given me. I suspected it was a sex club. The unmarked exterior had a simple door guarded by a bouncer, and though music played inside, there weren’t any people lined up like there would be at a dance club. This place had a modest stream of attendants, many of them coat-clad couples or single men with a leer in their eye, and sporadically, a woman who headed in solo.
I stood off to the side. I didn’t want to appear like I’d be entering since I didn’t know if we’d be going there or elsewhere, nor did I want to get into anything I wasn’t ready for.
Like a sex club?
The idea entranced me. It was one I’d turned around for years but hadn’t acted on. I wouldn’t go alone, for starters, and I hadn’t ever been with someone with whom the topic had come up. Dean was the perfect partner, though I wasn’t sure about what might ensue. Were we going to fuck in public? Would he raise my skirt as he promised, showing me off to everyone?
Or would he ask others to touch me while he plunged himself inside?
I shivered, torn in a thousand ways and nonetheless clenching my knees together until I spotted Dean approaching from the other side of the club. He wore slacks and a dress shirt beneath a long, unbuttoned overcoat, which was what he wrapped around me when he reached me and pulled me close.
“I’ve missed you,” he said, his lips quick to mine.
I molded against him, the soothing slide of his hands on my back comforting like the deep, hungry search of his tongue. “You, too.”
He leaned away with the naughtiest of grins across those full lips, and his eyes glimmered under the glare of the streetlamp. “I’d ask you to show me what you’re wearing beneath that coat, but I’ll wait until we’re inside.”
I kept my hands flat on his chest, my breath unsteady. I tilted my head toward the bouncer. “There?”
“Yes.”
“Is it a sex club?”
“It is. Does that excite you?”
“Yes. It makes me nervous, too.”
“Don’t be.” He took my hand and drew me forward. “Let’s explore, shall we?”
And like that, we were on our next adventure.
Dean’s arm encircled my waist, holding me at his side as we headed toward the entrance. The bouncer checked our IDs and gave me an astute smile, but I averted my eyes while Dean opened the door for me.
“Tonight, I’m giving you a series of instructions that you, my kitten, should obey.” His face remained serious when we approached the front. “This is your assignment. Do you accept?”
Do you accept? It had become his favorite question. My favorite, too.
Dean shrugged his coat off his broad shoulders and withdrew his wallet to pay our cover. The clerks directed us to the coat check with knowing smirks, and Dean led me there before stopping to face me.
He waited for my response.
“Yes,” I whispered
. “You know I’m yours.”
There was magic in those words for me, like an invisible rope had bound us together. I was his; he was mine. I’d do anything he asked.
Dean palmed my cheek. “Perfect. You’re perfect.”
When he stepped behind me, he reached around to unbutton my coat. He kept his mouth near my ear, and I could hear his breathing over the music of the club while I took in everything around us. The coat check area was empty save for a couple holding hands waiting to drop off their coats, and after they removed them, I gasped. One of the women was blonde and thin, her rose-tipped breasts exposed through the sheer fabric of her slip. She walked by Dean and me with her lovely brunette partner at her side and smiled. Dean pulled my coat from my shoulders—almost as if he’d timed the reveal of my clothes on purpose—and the blonde pointed at me before she kissed her partner. When they continued down the walkway out of the coat room, Dean’s voice came like honey to my ear.
“Maya...you are gorgeous.” He traced the lace edge of the fabric, swooping my hair out of the way to kiss the skin above the neckline. Then he circled his fingers around my waist and came to face me, running them along the row of steel hooks from my breasts down to the base of the bustier. His eyes flashed with longing as he cupped the sides of my breasts and slipped his fingers along the straps, and back down to my waist. “Wow. This is stunning. You’re stunning.”
He raked his eyes over me from head to toe, the intoxicated look on his face tugging me deep within my core.
“I cannot wait to own you tonight.”
My pussy spasmed, and with the lack of panties beneath my skirt, I had to bite back the groan that tried to leap from my throat.
Dean checked in our coats while I took in the walls, the dim lights and the general vibe of the place—lusty, carnal and a little bit raunchy. When he finished, he circled his arms around me, his rigid cock rubbing me through my skirt. Dean’s probing kiss made me dip in his arms.
“What do you think?” he asked.
“I don’t know what to think yet. It’s different. Have you been here before?”
“No, but a friend has, and I thought it would be fun with you.”
I blushed. “Did you tell him you were taking someone?”
The Assignment Page 20