by Lucy Wild
I wanted to apologise to her for mentioning her choice of underwear. It had been unprofessional of me but in my defence, the sight of her on all fours with her skirt around her hips would have been enough to stir a statue into life. I’d been picturing it the entire time I was out of the office. Those ruffled panties that made me want her as my little girl, the way she flaunted them so wantonly without even realising had sent me running for my chair, wanting to get my lower half hidden below the desk so she couldn’t see the enormous hard on she’d given me.
I unlocked my office door and walked inside, going to pick up my briefcase and noticing something sat on my desk, something I hadn’t put there. What was it? Frowning, I reached across and picked up the knickers I’d seen on Tilly that morning. She had put them there. My heart skipped a beat as I unfolded them and thought once more of how they’d looked on her.
She must have taken them off and put them in here. What had I said to her? Not to wear them again, something like that. She must have spent the rest of the day without knickers on to prove a point to me. And what a point she’d proven.
She was a bundle of contradictions. To do something so adult, so slutty, so dirty. Yet to be so naive as to think a car thief would just run away if she told them off. To clean my office for no other reason than I’d told her to do it. I couldn’t get my finger on who she was and I realised I had to know. I’m not the kind of person who can handle confusion. I like things neatly tied down. Like her.
That thought made me picture her tied down, perhaps bent over my desk in the knickers that were clenched in my fist. My hands sliding them down her thighs, seeing her pale behind coming into view. Reddening it with my hand as she called me her Daddy.
I left my office with the knickers in my jacket pocket, walking over to the staff directory and rifling through it. At the back was a space for the temps we employed, their names, addresses, and phone numbers neatly compiled in rows that dated back over the last year. At the end of the list was the name I was looking for. Natalie Brook.
I punched her number into my phone, listening to it ring and finding myself surprisingly nervous. What if this was a misunderstanding? What if she hadn’t left her panties for me to find? What if…?
“Hello?” Her voice, sounding confused.
“Hi, Tilly, it’s Mr Radcliffe.”
“Mr Radcliffe. What are you doing ringing me? Oh, God, is this about the thing?”
“I found something on my desk just now, Tilly. I wondered if you wanted to explain things to me.”
“God, I’m so sorry. Listen, it was my housemate’s idea. Please, don’t be cross with me.”
I smiled. “I’m not cross, not at all. I’d just like to talk to you, that’s all.”
“What about?”
“Not over the phone. What are you doing at the minute, are you busy?”
“I am a bit busy.”
Another voice shouted from the background. “She’s watching soaps in her pyjamas.”
“Shut up!” Tilly snapped. “Not you, Mr Radcliffe.”
In her pyjamas at seven in the evening. She couldn’t be more of a little girl if she tried. “Is it too late for you to come out and meet me somewhere?”
“No, not at all. Where do you want to go?”
“Do you know Carlo’s on Flint Street?”
“I’m sure I can find it.”
“Great. How soon can you get there?”
“Give me an hour.”
“Good girl. I’ll see you soon.”
“Bye, Mr Radcliffe.”
I hung up before walking to the lift. It had been a gamble, calling her a good girl. But it had been worth the risk. I hadn’t taken my business to the heady heights of the second largest in Europe by not taking risks after all. How she reacted to me saying that was the quickest way of finding out the type of person she was. If she wasn’t interested in being my little girl, she’d have called me out for it. But instead she just said bye.
Of course, there was still the chance that she wouldn’t turn up at the restaurant. But there was only one way to find out and it meant turning left out of the building instead of right.
I was there half an hour before her. “Good evening, Mr Radcliffe,” Eduardo said when I arrived. “Usual table?”
“I’ll wait in the bar. My guest isn’t arriving until eight.”
“Of course, Mr Radcliffe.”
I sat sipping my drink, the ice clinking against the sides, the sound of conversation rippling around me. All I could think about was the panties in my pocket and the thought of her sliding them off her hips, kicking them off her feet, sneaking into my office while I was out and leaving them there, knowing the risk she was taking, knowing I might be furious. I wasn’t furious, far from it. The thought of her spending the day without any panties on made me want her all the more. I wanted to look after her, I wanted to fuck her, I wanted to keep her for myself. I wanted to do so many things to her.
I tried to shake those feelings, knowing the risk I was taking in even taking a temp to dinner. Something about her had intoxicated me, had gotten into my soul. Don’t do anything stupid, I told myself. And then she arrived.
I could hardly believe it was her. The skirt she had worn at the office was short but this was something else. It clung to her skin and showed what little curve there was to her hips. Her bare legs were almost white and drew the eyes of everyone in the bar as she walked across to me. She wore towering heels and my first thought as she tottered across was of a little girl who was playing in her mother’s shoes, playing dress up while no one was home.
Her top was pink, tight, and cut low enough to reveal far more cleavage than I thought she had. She still had her hair in braids and I had to shift on my stool to prevent her seeing the tent pole she made in my trousers.
“Good evening, Mr Radcliffe,” she said when she reached me. “Thank you for inviting me out.”
“Not past your bedtime, I hope?” I said, standing up and hoping she didn’t look down at my crotch. There was no way of hiding the effect she’d had on me. “I’ve a table waiting. Come on through here.”
I sat opposite her and looked across with a frown. “You are taking a risk dressing like that,” I said as a waiter placed two menus silently in our places.
“Am I?”
I nodded. “I want to tell you something, Tilly, and I want your honest response. All right?”
She nodded back, gulping as she did so.
“I think you need looking after.”
“What?”
“I said I think you need looking after. You flash your knickers at work, you leave your underwear on your boss’s desk and you dress like a whore. You need someone to look after you.”
“I’m not a child.”
“I disagree.”
“I’m nineteen years old.”
“Old enough not to whine when you’re told off.”
“I’m going to the bathroom,” she said, getting to her feet and turning away before turning back a second later and saying in a lower voice, “Where is it?”
“Over there,” I said, pointing and trying not to laugh. She did her best to storm off, not easy when she slipped off her heel after a few steps.
Something caught my eye and I looked down at the table to see her phone lighting up. She’d been in such a rush to storm off, she’d forgotten to take it with her. A notification appeared on the screen and from where I was, I could see the name of the sender and the start of a message. My mood changed in an instant. So that was his game, was it? Well, his hired help was about to find out I wasn’t in the mood for playing.
When she returned, she sat down with a scowl on her face. “I hope you’re going to speak to me in a more civilised manner,” she said, folding her arms and pouting at me.
“You had a message,” I replied.
She looked down. “Did I?” She picked up the phone and looked at it, her expression flickering just enough for me to know exactly what she was up to.
; “I saw it.” I watched her closely, seeing the colour drain from her cheeks as she looked up at me.
“Saw what?”
“Don’t play games anymore, Tilly. Damien Mitchell hired you, didn’t he?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I clenched my fists under the table, keeping my voice as calm as possible. “He asked if you’d found dirt on me yet. He’s been after me for months and he thought he’d get you to do it. What are you? A P.I? A whore? That’d make sense. What was the plan? Get me into bed and get him to film it? Try and weasel your way into my club?”
“Please,” she stuttered. “Please, I need the money.”
“Are you two ready to order?”
I looked up to find a waiter hovering over me. I waved him away, turning back to Tilly who looked petrified. “Tell me everything,” I said.
She looked down at the table, her voice so low I struggled to hear her. “He wants your board to agree to him buying you out. He said there are rumours hanging around you and he wanted me to find out what the truth was.”
“What rumours?”
“He doesn’t know. He thought if he could get some dirt on you, he’d be able to make you agree to the buy out.”
“So he was going to blackmail me?”
She nodded. “Please, don’t tell him. I need the money. Please.”
“How much did he offer you?”
“Fifty thousand.”
“What does someone your age need fifty grand for? Are you on drugs?”
“No,” she snapped, looking up at me with fire in her eyes. “It wasn’t for me.”
“What was it for then?”
“You’ll laugh at me if I tell you.”
“Try me.”
“I want to build an orphanage.”
“You want to build an orphanage?”
She nodded, not saying anything. Was she for real?
I sighed, rubbing my eyes as I leaned back in my chair. “I tell you what we’re going to do, Tilly. We’re going to have a lovely meal at a lovely restaurant and then we’re both going to go home.”
“You’re not going to fire me?”
“Not at all. You’re going to continue your work and then you’re going to go back to our mutual friend and tell him you didn’t find anything.”
“That’s it? You don’t want anything else out of me?”
I want to fuck you, I thought, I want to fuck you so badly, I can hardly think. And I want to fuck you all the more when you look so contrite. “Spend the weekend at my house,” I blurted out, the words escaping before I could stop them.
“Okay,” she said, her eyes not meeting mine.
Asking her was a mistake, I knew that. But I couldn’t back out after she’d agreed. I felt like kicking myself. She had literally just admitted being hired to help blackmail me and I helpfully invited her back to my house. Why not just hand over the company and be done with it?
But looking up at her as she continued to shift in her seat, I couldn’t help but think that I had done the right thing. If I could get past Mitchell and all that messiness, she would make the most perfect little girl. Not an easy task, given that he was the snake who’d been hissing around my business for years, waiting for me to tire so he could poison me like he’d poisoned my mother. I was going to have to be very careful around Tilly if I was going to pull this off.
But, I thought, look on the bright side. You have the perfect excuse to spank her now. After all, she has been very, very, naughty.
Chapter Nine
Mr Radcliffe wasn’t in the office for the rest of the week. It made bearing the thought of spending a weekend at his house that little bit easier. I can hardly articulate the turmoil I went through during our meal together. The conversation consisted of small talk about business whilst I sat there wishing with all my heart that I’d taken my phone to the ladies with me.
But I hadn’t. He’d riled me up so quickly and so effectively that I’d stormed off without even remembering I’d put it down on the table. I’d never have left it behind like that if I’d been thinking straight. When he told me about the notification he’d seen, I had far more to worry about than my hang ups about my phone.
By the end of the meal, I was a wreck. I’d hardly eaten a thing and when he asked if I wanted dessert, I shook my head, wanting only to get out of there. I’d thought about leaving when he confronted me but I knew if I did that, I’d never see the money Mitchell had promised me.
It was when I was laid in bed that night that a thought occurred to me. I almost slapped myself for being so stupid. A weekend at his house was perfect. I wanted to get some dirt on him, what better place to find it than at his house? All right, he knew I was onto him, but I could find a way round that. He’d told me during the meal that he would show me the kind of things someone like me should wear, that was a sign for sure. Maybe he really was a Daddy Dom. What? I could dream, couldn’t I? Whatever it was, I only had to wait patiently to find out and then I’d have all the information I needed.
I shook my head at being so scared of being found out, of being forced into spending a weekend with him. I should have been grateful for fate intervening and giving me the shot I needed.
That isn’t the real reason, my mind whispered as I closed my eyes and tried to sleep again. Is it?
I sighed, turning onto my side and wrapping my arms round my knees, like I used to when I was little and the dormitory lights were turned out, leaving me alone in the terrifying darkness. I could deny it all I liked but there was a part of me that wanted him to dress me up. Okay, maybe not like the gimp in Pulp Fiction but maybe something else. Maybe a pinafore dress and a hairband, him in a mortar board and black gown, telling me if I wanted to pass my course, I needed to prove how hard I could work. The thought made my insides tingle, him pacing in front of a blackboard, me all innocent and batting my eyes at him while flashing my knickers under my desk.
It was a long time before I was able to get to sleep and I woke up the next morning feeling groggy as hell. I was torn between being desperate to get to work to see him and wanting to call in sick, never wanting to see him again. Even the walk involved marching at speed and then dawdling, almost turning round and going home when I reached the building, thinking of him up there staring out of his office window, waiting for me to arrive, planning to humiliate me somehow in revenge for what I’d done, perhaps tell everyone in the office I had tried to blackmail him.
But he wasn’t there. Susie caught me just as I was going in, still on the phone to him. She said, “Catch you next week then, Mr Radcliffe,” and then hung up, turning to me and tutting. “Swanning off for the rest of the week. He calls it business meetings, I reckon there’ll be more than one golf club involved. How are you this morning, Natalie?”
I felt the tension wash out of me, knowing I wouldn’t have to speak to him at all during the week. A sense of sadness replaced the tension at the same time and I shook my head, wanting all these conflicting emotions to just disappear.
Throwing myself into the work helped. There were more files to sort and then the kind of data entry on a computer that involves lots of concentration to prevent errors, just the kind of work I needed to stop me thinking about Mr Radcliffe.
By five on Friday, the organising was finally done and Susie carried away the last files back to the archive room. I stood up, looking at the clock for the thousandth time that hour. He hadn’t turned up. He hadn’t rung. He hadn’t emailed. Maybe he’d forgotten. Maybe he’d let it go.
Each night that week, I’d had a lengthy conversation with Alison, trying to work through my conflicting emotions. She had money on the brain and just kept telling me it’d be fine. “This time next week, you’ll be planning your trip,” she said so often it was like a catchphrase on the world’s least popular sitcom. It didn’t stop me thinking how nice it would have been if he’d rung me again, told me he loved me and wanted to move to Gambia with me. It was a confusing dream and I had no idea
what to make of it.
In contrast to Mr Radcliffe’s silence, Mr Mitchell had been breathing down my neck all week, urging me to get on with it, reminding me of the deadline for the board meeting, warning me that I wouldn’t get my money if I didn’t find something. I fobbed him off by guaranteeing him I’d be done by Monday. I didn’t tell him about the deal, I didn’t see the point.
I gave him until half past five to turn up at the office and as he hadn’t shown his face by then, I headed down to the ground floor. Walking outside, I stopped dead when I saw the same limousine I’d seen on my first day. Standing beside it was Mr Radcliffe, beckoning me over.
“Ready to go?” he asked, opening the back door for me.
“We’re doing this then?” I asked.
“Unless you want me to speak to Mr Mitchell about you. Maybe have the police speak to you both? I’m sure they’d like to hear all about what he’s been up to in the past. Maybe they’d enjoy hearing your story too.”
“Please, don’t.”
“I’m joking,” I said, not smiling. “For now. Get in, Tilly.”
I climbed into the back seat and he climbed in next to me. “What are you going to do to me?” I asked as the car set off.
“Show you who you really are,” he said with a half smile. “Take us to my house please, Rupert, and do pass on my thanks for them letting you drive me.”
“Anything for you,” Rupert replied with a nod. “After what you did for Charlotte, I reckon they’d let you keep the car.”
“Who’s Charlotte?” I asked.
“Why? Jealous?” Mr Radcliffe asked, turning to me.
“Not at all. I’m just curious.”
“I assisted in a private matter, that’s all you need to know. Now, tell me, how have you got on this week? Found anything juicy out about me?”
“I haven’t been looking.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“I haven’t, honestly I haven’t.”
He leaned back on his seat, looking briefly out of the window before turning back to me. “What do you want out of life, Tilly?”