Role Play (Plaything Book 4)

by Tess Oliver

  “Look, I don’t know who you are or who put you up to this, but I’ve got a meeting to attend.”

  “Yes, I know. You’re right. Maybe that vice president title will be enough to keep you happy. Who needs love when you’ve got Chanel suits, a Porsche and a corner office with a view?”

  I blinked at the last line of the message. Something about it saddened me. I’d already gotten past the shock that the person I was chatting with knew everything about me, but now that person had hit a nerve.

  My fingers were slower this time. “Everyone needs love.”

  I waited for a response. There was none. They were waiting for me.

  “I didn’t step on people and boss them around on my way up the ladder. I worked my butt off to get here.”

  “Well then, happily ever after achieved. Just no kiss involved.”

  “No, I need the kiss. I’ve got everything else but that.”

  “Then, I’m waiting. Describe your perfect man.”

  I had no idea why I was continuing this, but my fingers lowered over the keyboard. “My perfect man list.” They’d done it. They’d broken me down, and suddenly, I was spilling my guts out to an unidentified person on the other end of the website. “I want to be treated as an equal in business. But in bed, I want him to take complete control. I’m in charge all day. Between the sheets, I want to be his plaything, his love toy.” I sat back and stared at my words. “Holy shit, I’ve wasted thousands of dollars on a therapist and there you are, whoever the hell you are, typing rather obnoxious prompts on a computer, and it all comes out. My bottled up feelings. That’s why I haven’t found anyone. And now I’m even talking to my computer.”

  “See. Now we’re getting somewhere. What else?” Somehow they’d heard me. I looked around my computer for a camera or tiny bugging device. It was my same old computer. No extra technology or unusual additions.

  I stared at the last question. Once again, my fingers covered the keyboard. “I don’t want a man who fusses over his hair or clothes. And no manicured men. Gawd, I hate a man whose hands look better than mine. In fact, a little grit under the nails wouldn’t be a bad thing. Oh, and, of course, there’s tall, dark and—”

  “Handsome?” the text box interrupted. “Didn’t figure you as the cliché type.”

  “I’m not, but you didn’t let me finish. Tall, dark and a pleasure in bed and out. If that includes a pleasure to look at, then I guess I’m a little cliché. Not going to lie—expressive eyes, a cool, confident smile and a chiseled jaw go a long way when you’re looking at someone over a pillow.”

  Cara knocked on the door and poked in her head. Instinctively, I hit the X to close the site. This time, much to my disappointment, it disappeared. My usual desktop splashed open. “It’s time, and some of the really important big wigs are here.” She winked conspiratorially at me.

  “Yes, well don’t start packing up your desk supplies just yet. I’ll be there in a second. I just need to print my reports.”

  “Still? Thought that’s what you’ve been doing.” She stuck her hands on her hips. “Are you still daydreaming about that vending machine hottie? You know, I could get his number for you.”

  “Yes, that’s what I need. The woman who jumps from man to man as if her feet were on fire to set me up on a date with the soda man.”

  She lifted her finger. “The hot soda man.” Her mouth twisted in consideration. “That didn’t come out quite right. Anyhow, they’re waiting for you in the board room.” She walked out.

  I stared at the desktop, wondering if I had been just daydreaming again. I needed to get more sleep. I moved the mouse to get the reports. With the same whiff of fragrance as before, the Silk Stocking Inn web page popped open.

  “We’re almost finished here. One last question. What is your favorite flavor of cupcake?”

  I blinked at the question before laughing out loud. “See, I knew this was a joke. Hope you enjoyed yourself.”

  “There’s nothing comical about cupcakes. Just answer the question.”

  “Red velvet,” I typed, hitting the keys far harder than I needed to.

  “I might have guessed that. We’ll be in touch.” With that, the website vanished as suddenly and mysteriously as it had appeared.

  I brushed the whole thing off as a comical diversion, even if it was somewhat eye opening for me. I quickly printed and collected my reports and headed down the hallway to the board room.

  Chapter Three

  Cara was waiting in my office with an airline sized bottle of wine. She held it between her thumb and forefinger. “It’s all I could come up with on such short notice. Although, technically, it wasn’t all that short because I predicted your promotion to vice president this morning.”

  We hugged. “Still can’t believe it. I was sure they’d give it to Gregory.”

  Cara opened the wine and dribbled it into our coffee mugs. She handed me mine. “How are you feeling?”

  I thought about her question. I was still coming out of the stunned haze that had swept over me when Harold Taylor, the owner of the company, announced my name. Everyone had looked at me, some with angry scowls—most especially Gregory—and some with smiles. I’d sat frozen to my chair like the proverbial deer in headlights wondering if I was back in one of my weird daydreams.

  “I’m not sure how I feel. Surprised . . . I guess. A little nervous. Anxious, that’s another good adjective to throw in there.” I drank the shot of wine in one gulp. “I’m sure I’m still just getting over the shock. I’ll feel more excited once that wears off.”

  “I’m sure of it. Well, it’s quittin’ time. Guess I better go buy myself some new clothes. I’ve got to look the part of the vice president’s assistant. I’ll let you sit and contemplate for awhile. You look a little dazed.” She hugged me again and walked out.

  I sat down at my desk. My scenic meadow desktop wallpaper stared back at me. No more strange pop-up windows. Just the well-organized array of report folders dotting the field of wildflowers behind it.

  I rolled my executive chair to the window and gazed out at the view. Skyscrapers and office buildings of equal or more height striped the blue sky. Movement below carried my attention down to the sidewalk. There he was, my lunchtime amusement. He crossed the street to his delivery truck. As he reached it, a pretty red head with long legs and barely there shorts stepped out of the truck with a blazing white smile.

  He stopped his dolly on the sidewalk, and in one swift move, he had his arms around her waist and his mouth pressed hard against hers. I looked on with envy as the two came dangerously close to making out right there on the city sidewalk. I had it all, but I didn’t have that. I didn’t have that guy who would make me throw away all inhibitions and bring me to a full blush in the middle of a crowded sidewalk. I wanted that.

  I pulled myself away from the window and reached for the phone. My mom answered. “Jessi, so glad you called. I’ve got such big news.”

  “I’ve got some big news too, Mom.”

  In the background, Dad was telling her to let my sister Leticia tell me the news. I could almost see my mom waving at him to hush up. “Leti is having twins! Two girls. I tell you I just can’t stop smiling over here.” She laughed. “I was knitting one of those cute little caps and now I’ve got to knit another. The one I have on my needles is pink. I was thinking lavender for the next one. What do you think?”

  I couldn’t remember the last time Mom had sounded so excited. Wait. Yes I could. It was when Leti had told her she was pregnant with her first baby. “I think lavender would be pretty, Mom.”

  She went on with some details about due dates and prenatal vitamins. I listened half-heartedly. Then she stopped suddenly. “Oh my, I’m going on and on and you said you had some big news too, Jessi. What is it?”

  My news was big to me, but it would be nothing compared to twin granddaughters. At least not in my mom’s eyes. This was Leti’s big news day, not mine. “Oh, it’s nothing that can’t wait, Mom. Tell Leti cong
ratulations for me, and I’ll see you later.”

  I hung up. Pauline, one of the managers, poked her head into the office. “Congratulations, Boss. A few of us are going to head over to that new Thai restaurant across town for a Friday night wind down. Want to join us? That is, if you don’t mind eating with us little people.”

  I tilted my head and raised a brow at her.

  “Sorry, that was uncalled for. You’ll be a great V.P., Jessi. How about that dinner?”

  I nodded. “That sounds good. I’ll just finish up here and meet you guys there in an hour.”

  Chapter Four

  I glanced at the screen on my phone. The directions had taken a weird turn. I was sure I needed to go south on Berkshire Ave., but the little voice in my phone was saying north. It was entirely possible the whirlwind of a day I’d had was making my internal compass a little screwy.

  I wasn’t even completely sure why I’d agreed to meet everyone for dinner. I wasn’t in the mood to socialize. And it wasn’t the new position that had me feeling like I just needed to go curl up on my couch with a book and bag of barbecue potato chips. It was those wacky few moments on my computer that had shifted my mood. Of course, wacky was a light word for it. I had no idea who had been on the other end of the conversation where I’d basically poured out my heart’s desire to a complete stranger, possibly even just a robot. But a well-programmed robot at that. It seemed to know everything about me. And now, thanks to me opening my virtual diary and spilling the contents out onto my keyboard, my deepest fantasy was out floating around in cyberspace.

  “Turn left here,” my phone instructed. It seemed my life was now being directed by bossy technological beings.

  I turned left onto a small street I’d never seen before. It was really more of an alley than a street, and a questionable one at that. But the sketchy state of the deserted alley was nothing compared to the unexplained layer of fog floating down from an otherwise crystal black night sky.

  “I’ve had about enough of you and your nutty directions.” I shut the phone off. Fog or not, I pushed my foot down on the gas pedal. The walls on either side of the alley were closing in on me, and the thick, eerie mist was clouding my windshield. Visibility was down to a few feet past the front of my headlights but I motored on, plowing through the seemingly endless corridor.

  The shroud of fog reminded me of a ghost in a long gray gown as it rolled over my hood and across my front windshield. I was at least a forty minute drive from the coast, but a heavy fog wasn’t completely unheard of in the city. Only this one had drifted in alarmingly fast.

  I shivered as a cold clammy mist seemed to fill the car. My trembling fingers reached for the window buttons. I pushed them forward to make sure they were sealed shut and then double checked that the doors were locked.

  I reached for my phone, deciding to let Pauline know I’d be late and that I’d taken a wrong turn on Berkshire. That way, if I didn’t show up, the police would know where to start the search.

  My overactive imagination took me to the notion that Gregory, my coworker who was sure he’d had the vice president position on lock, might have set up this elaborate scheme to get rid of me. I laughed at the rather dark idea, not because Greg wouldn’t sink so low but because he had never shown himself to be a creative thinker. And this elaborate scheme would require a lot of creativity and thinking . . . and some knowledge of weather science.

  Sudden unexpected brightness coaxed me to lift my arm and shade my eyes. Headlights or a large flood lamp, I decided. At least I was reaching some kind of life form or glimmer of civilization. The light mellowed, obviously being muted by the pea soup fog.

  I put my phone down, deciding I would be at the restaurant in plenty of time. I was sure they all needed a chance to debrief and talk about my promotion and new position before I got there. Then I was heading straight to the bar. The tablespoon of wine with Cara was still a few good apple martinis away from a proper buzz.

  I reached the end of the alley. As my car left the shadows of the buildings, a dense fog still danced around it. I put on my windshield wipers in a desperate attempt to see what was in front of me. I no longer had any sense of direction. I had no idea where I was. My only chance was to retrace my steps, or, in this case, my tire marks and head back through the alley. I made a sharp left, hoping that no one was coming at me.

  My tires screeched as my foot slammed the brakes. I stared wide-eyed at the scene in front of me. In the midst of the nearly impenetrable cloud of fog was a clearing, a perfectly scooped out hole of clear night air. And, at the center of it all, stood a gothic looking, dilapidated mansion.

  I patted the console, the dashboard and the steering wheel of the car to make sure they were real. It was entirely possible that this whole day had just been a dream, and I was still tucked in my cozy bed waiting for the clock radio to wake me. I laughed and relaxed back. That was it. I was still asleep. No wonder I’d gotten the V.P. position. It was all just in my head. I’d just sit still and wait for Hank and Heidi’s morning show to pull me out of the weird dream.

  But it wasn’t the morning talk show that zapped me to attention. It was the mouth watering smell of baked goods. Cake, to be exact. Red velvet cake to be even more exact, if there was such a thing as being more than exact.

  Unless I was dreaming in sensory Technicolor, my nose and my taste buds were letting me know that I was definitely awake. All of it was impossible, and yet, the house was sitting there on its own luminous hillside.

  I glanced around. My car was still being swallowed up by the creepy fog. I pushed down the gas pedal and headed toward the house. It was the only thing visible through my condensation smeared windows.

  As if a switch had been shut off on a fog machine, the night air cleared. Two massive, yellow lamps flickered gold at the top of a long, winding driveway beckoning me forward. My only other choice was to navigate my way back through the horror movie style fog I’d left behind. At least this direction promised visibility and the prospect of a fresh baked good. After my terrible lunch, my stomach was protesting loudly with hunger.

  As my car rolled up the driveway, I came upon a red wooden sign with black and white block letters. I squinted into the dark to read it. ‘Welcome to the Silk Stocking Inn.’ Again my foot smacked down hard on the brakes. “It can’t be. There’s just no way.” Another sign, a chalkboard style panel with letters scrawled in pink chalk stood two feet ahead. I cautiously moved my foot to the gas and rolled forward. ‘Baker’s special today—red velvet cupcakes’.

  I put my foot down harder. “All right, this has gone far enough. It was entertaining on the computer, but now it is just downright creepy. And it has me talking to myself, which is probably getting caught on some secret camera to eventually be posted on YouTube. Then someone will use it to blackmail me, and I’ll lose my job. So stop talking to yourself, Jessi, and get to the bottom of this.”

  Chapter Five

  I drove, no longer with caution but with a damn purpose, toward the building. I stopped the car in front of the house and got out.

  The ancient house glowered down at me from it puny hill like an old grouchy neighbor scowling down from his porch just daring me to cross his lawn. Every other baluster was missing from the porch railing, reminding me of a smile in bad need of a dentist. One lone turret stuck up from the center, and the two dormer windows had been stripped of their roof slats. What must have once been a lush growth of ivy clinging to the clapboard siding was now just a crisp brown tangle of dead vines that seemed to be clawing their way beneath the wood boards. The landscaping looked like something from an old scary movie, a black and white movie. The only pop of color came from the two stone statues that were iridescent with mold. A tall ladder leaned against the side of the house as if someone had been working on the roof. There was no sign of the roses that had adorned the house on the website.

  The scent of cupcakes drew me up to the top step. It was an elaborate scheme to say the least. They were thorough, f
inding out my favorite flavor and then luring me up to the house with a hurricane of chocolate, cream cheese and buttery smells.

  I knocked hard and the door opened. No one was behind it. I slid my top half inside. “Hello?” I called into the cavernous entryway. Pale yellow wallpaper dotted with blue violets covered all the walls. The wood floors gleamed. The inside was far more inviting than the facade and front yard. My earlier anger melted away as my mouth watered with the promise of a cupcake.

  “Come on in. I’ve just finished frosting a new batch,” a woman’s almost lyrical sounding voice floated into the entryway. I hesitated but then reminded myself that I was there to get to the bottom of this farce. Plus, I was really craving one of those darn cupcakes. The aroma was so rich and sweet, I could nearly taste it.

  I headed in the direction of the voice and scent. I walked down a narrow hallway that was lined with oil paintings. I ended up in a giant parlor room that had been converted into a stylish bakery, like one you’d find in the middle of a hip urban neighborhood.

  “That fog is something else, isn’t it?” A woman wearing a paisley print head scarf and a floral print dress covered mostly by a white apron, walked into the room with a silver platter of cupcakes. Each one was topped with a swirl of white frosting and a red candy heart.

  On first glance, as the woman had stepped into the warm glowing lights of the bakery, she looked quite old, slightly hunched with a respectable amount of wrinkles. She lowered the platter onto the counter and straightened. It took me a second to find my voice. The woman wasn’t old at all. Sparkling green eyes looked out from a smooth olive complexion. And there was something familiar in her expression, as if she was an old friend instead of a stranger.

  The woman lifted a plump little cake in her hand and beamed up at it with pride. “I think these may be my best yet. I’m sure the customers will buy them up quickly, so you better give this one a taste.” She held it out to me with a smile that was impossible to say no to, especially because of the delicious cupcake in front of it. “I’m Coco, by the way. I’ve been expecting you. Was there much traffic?”