The evening is closing in when I am brought back to reality with a text from Taylor:
I’ll be ready to finish at 5 p.m. Meet me in the entrance to the apartment x
I feel apprehension at the thought of going back up there after Richard has been in the apartment, but I reason that Taylor wouldn’t have asked me if he was not sure that it was safe. I send a quick reply and then concentrate on getting everything finished before I leave.
At five on the dot I head into the lift and use the hidden controls in the panel. Despite telling myself that everything will be fine, it is still a relief when the doors open and Taylor is already there, waiting for me. He pulls me in for a passionate kiss, which is a welcome balm to my nerves. When we part, both a little breathless, he gives me a wicked grin and tells me he has a surprise planned for the evening. I am so curious, but despite all my means of persuasion, he simply pats me lightly on my bum and directs me to the back elevator to head down to the car park.
Our first stop is Selfridges, where I am whisked into their Beauty Room. I swallow nervously at the four people assembled, looking at me expectantly. “Anything she wants, ladies,” Taylor says to the assembly, winking at me. “But she has to be done by seven.” And then he disappears, leaving me without a clue as to what is going on. I look over the four women. “Can anyone fill me in?” I ask.
One of the women steps forward, and I note that she is immaculately groomed and dressed. No matter how much I try, I can never get myself looking so chic. She introduces herself as Henrietta and informs me that the team will be getting me ready for my date with Taylor. They know where I am going but cannot breathe a word.
“Um, okay,” I say, feeling quite flustered when they start discussing among themselves what they are going to do to me. I hear the words ‘toner’, ‘cut’, ‘bruising’, but they start organising themselves, so I feel obliged to go along with whatever they are going to do to me. After all, they are the experts, right?
By ten to seven I am walking into a dressing room, manicured, pedicured and make-up artfully hiding the bruising. My frizzy mop has been coloured, snipped and curled so that it falls in waves over my shoulders. Henrietta is standing in front of me, holding up a stunning tea dress in black with a floral design in hot pink and teal. I smile in appreciation; it is exactly the kind of thing I would have chosen for myself. If I had unlimited money, that is.
Henrietta motions for me to take off my robe and eyes my underwear critically. “Hmm, not the right shape.” She leaves but is back in moments with a couple of options, including a body thing that looks like it should be in an S&M club. I gulp not sure what to make of it, but when she makes me try it on, it does amazing things to my body, enhancing my ample cleavage and flattening and shaping my stomach and hips. She hands me some stockings, which I pull on quickly, aware that Taylor will be here any minute. As I look at my reflection, I take in the vixen standing in front of me, not completely believing that this is real. Henrietta busies around me, fixing this and that, and then motions for me to step into the dress. I feel the fabric glide over my body and idly wonder what Taylor is going to make of me. Shoes are the last to go on, and I stumble a little as I attempt to walk in the impossibly high heels.
I hear a whistle behind me, and I turn to catch Taylor’s appreciative smile. “Wow, you look good enough to eat,” he whispers hoarsely into my ear as he kisses my cheek. A blush stains my cheeks as I think to myself that he hasn’t seen what’s hiding underneath the dress. He holds out a box to me, and when I open it, I find a stunning necklace of black pearls and diamonds. I look at him and whisper, “This is too much, Taylor.”
“No, it isn’t. It is exactly what you deserve. Beautiful accessories for a beautiful girl.” I swallow hard, trying to push down the tears that I can feel welling up. No one has ever made me feel like I was beautiful and sexy and deserving of such attention before. I notice Taylor looking discreetly at his watch and realise that we need to go, so I start to gather my clothes in a pile.
“Don’t worry about that,” says Henrietta. “I’ll get everything transferred back to your hotel, Mr Hudson.” I thank her for everything as Taylor helps me into a beautiful black cashmere coat and she hands me a small clutch filled with ‘touch-ups’, as she puts it.
I am so excited that my knee bounces as we sit in the taxi. Grinning at me, Taylor leans over and whispers in my ear, “Close your eyes, we are nearly there.” I oblige, and seconds later I feel the taxi stop and Taylor squeezes my hand. I open my eyes to find that we are just outside the Royal Opera House in Covent Garden. I feel like I am starring in my own version of Pretty Woman—well, apart from the prostitute bit, of course.
Taylor escorts me across the cobbles, and I take in the grandeur of this stunning building. The bell is calling time as we slip into our seats, and I have no idea of what I am about to see as I had been concentrating so hard on not falling over on the way through. “Romeo and Juliet,” Taylor whispers in my ear as the music starts and the dancing begins. I have always yearned to see a ballet here, and it looks like my dream has come true. I look over at Taylor and smile, squeezing his hand and trying to convey my thanks for such an amazing surprise.
I lose myself in the music and the story and find myself surprised when the first interval arrives. We move to the bar, and instantly Taylor hands me a glass of cool crisp champagne. We chat about the dancing, and it seems like mere moments before we are called back in. At some point Taylor moves his hand to my thigh and starts slipping the fabric higher. He discovers the stockings and suspenders, and in the momentary silence I hear his sharp intake of breath. I glance over and I can see his rigid profile. He pulls my hand into his lap, and I can feel his enormous erection pushing at his trousers. I am wet in an instant and squirm in my seat, pushing my knees together to try and ease the throb that is building.
“Later,” Taylor growls into my ear, and I almost come at the thought of what that promises.
It is late when we make it out of the opera house, among the throng of people. My belly grumbles, making Taylor chuckle. “Come on, let’s get some food into you. I know this amazing tapas place about a five-minute walk from here. Do you think you can make it on those heels?” Taylor gives me a smirk as he glances down at my throbbing feet. Whoever invented killer heels should be shot. Sure, they look good, but I am about as graceful as a cat on roller skates in these things.
“Go on, laugh it up in your nice flat shoes!” I joke. “You’ll be sorry when you have to carry me home later.” He offers me his arm gallantly, and I grab hold of it as we take off, me tottering along like Bambi. Taylor wasn’t joking about the distance, and I am pleasantly surprised that we make it without me falling flat on my face. Despite being busy, we find a secluded table, and I run my eyes eagerly over the list of tapas. I realise that I haven’t had anything since my late lunch and I truly am starving.
“I recommend the apple mojito,” Taylor says, pointing to the drinks menu.
“Ooh, that sounds yum,” I answer, also pointing out some of the dishes I have also taken a fancy to. The service is surprisingly quick, despite the bustling crowds, and it is only minutes before a waitress appears with both our drinks and a couple of dishes to start with. The mojito is sublime, and I have to pace myself, knowing that drinking on an empty stomach will be disastrous.
I find myself prattling away to Taylor about the ballet and my experience as we make our way through half a dozen small dishes. It is only after I have to ask Taylor a question three times that I realise he is in another world, staring at me intently.
“Taylor, what’s up?” I break his reverie, and he comes back to himself with a small start.
“Fuck, Abby, you have no idea what is going through my head right now.” I look at him in surprise, the low growl in his voice sending shivers through me. “I am imagining all sorts under that dress, and all I want to do is strip you right here, right now.” Shit, I have just flooded my panties, and my sex has started throbbing in anticipatio
n. I groan quietly, and Taylor looks at me with knowing eyes. Within seconds the bill has been settled and Taylor is bundling me into a cab.
We are both breathing heavily, but Taylor makes no move to touch me. My control is fragile enough as it is, and I can’t think how Taylor is remaining so calm. The calm lasts as long as it takes to get us through the door of our suite. Taylor throws me against the door, kissing me with such fervour that I know my lips will be bruised in the morning. His hands start exploring under my dress, and I can feel his erection throbbing in my hip.
“Fuck, Abby, I need you now,” Taylor growls, slipping my panties to one side and slipping his fingers inside of me, stretching me. Foil rips, and then he is sliding into me, pinning me to the door. I wrap my arms and legs around him as he pounds into me hard and fast, and I just go with it, throwing my head back as I ride the tidal wave. I feel Taylor explode in me, making me come again.
We are both panting hard as Taylor walks us through to the bedroom, his erection softening in me slowly. “Shit, Abby, is your back okay?” Taylor asks, laying me gently on the bed. The tingling all over my body is the only sensation I am aware of at this moment, and I simply nod my head, a knowing smile on my face. Taylor eases out of me and lies on his back beside me, trying to catch his breath.
I sit up on my elbows and watch him for a few seconds before pulling myself over Taylor and straddling his hips. Taylor’s eyes fly open in surprise. I gently ease the zipper down on my dress and pull it up over my head. Taylor’s eyes and erection both grow huge as he takes in the sight of me. My corset is a mix of S&M glamour and vintage charm, the panels of satin elastic and scalloped lace giving me a killer figure. Taylor runs his hands up my legs, pulling at my suspenders and snapping them fiercely against my bum. The snap smarts, but the pain shoots pleasure through my groin and tips me closer to the edge.
I move between Taylor’s legs and take him in my mouth, savouring the feel of his ridges on my tongue. I pull him deep, his cock touching the back of my throat, and I feel Taylor’s hands in my hair. I hear him hissing through his teeth as I roll him in my mouth, my tongue teasing his delicate slit. I suddenly feel Taylor pressing a condom in my hand. I sit up and roll it on to his length before lowering myself onto his erection. Taylor takes my hands, giving me some purchase to push myself against as I slowly start rolling my hips against his. We soon find our rhythm and I find myself tipping over the edge as Taylor pushes deeper and deeper, stroking my core. As I come, my muscles clench so fiercely they force Taylor to explode inside of me. The waves continue as Taylor slips his finger into my dripping pussy and starts stroking my oversensitive clit. In moments I explode with such force that I see stars.
The Fourteenth
Once again we sneak into work, and I am forced to confront the reality of the situation. Having an affair with the boss is not smart, but I feel helpless in the face of my attraction. My inner musings keep me distracted from my work for most of the day, but I still manage to complete some of the tasks Eddy has assigned me. Fortunately, Eddy doesn’t seem to notice that I am away with the fairies, so I am let off easy.
It is not long after lunch when I get a call from reception letting me know that Detective Stanton is waiting for me. I pop through to the lobby, my body tense and filled with apprehension. When I greet her, her kindly smile relaxes me a little, but I still find myself playing with my hair nervously.
“Hello, Abby,” she says. “Do you have a couple of minutes to spare?”
“Sure.” I motion to Janet that we are popping across to Starbucks and won’t be long. I can see the mild curiosity in her eyes, but given that the office gossip has done the rounds about my so-called mugging, I am sure she is assuming that this is just a follow-up about that.
Starbucks is quiet after the lunchtime rush, so we are able to grab a couple of seats in the corner. I sip my latte, quietly wondering what it would take for the detective to pay me a personal visit. Detective Stanton slides across some keys, and with a start I realise that they are mine. I don’t remember leaving them with her, but perhaps Taylor did.
“Abby, we processed your flat thoroughly, but he was good. There were no fingerprints or DNA anywhere.” I feel my hands clenching my mug tightly. “Personally, I have not seen this kind of rage before where the perpetrator doesn’t know the victim. There is normally a degree of relationship to prompt an attack of this sort.”
“What does this mean?” I ask quietly.
Detective Stanton sighs. “We interviewed Richard Hudson about both your attack and your flat. He denies everything, and with the lack of evidence in your flat, we can’t charge him on that at this point. We have charged him, however, with the attack on you, given both your and his brother’s statements, and he has been released on bail.”
I shiver at the thought that Richard is out there.
“Listen, Abby, at this point I can’t promise anything with so little evidence. But something about Richard doesn’t sit right with me. I shouldn’t be telling you this”—she looks me in the eye before continuing—“but this guy gives me the creeps, and we are doing a deeper background search to see if anything comes up. It is taking a while and I just need you to stay safe. Do you understand?”
I nod. “Thank you, Detective. I really appreciate all your help with this. Truthfully, he scares the living daylights out of me, and the thought that he is out there is not a pleasant one. But I promise I will be careful.”
Detective Stanton reaches out and squeezes my hand comfortingly. “Just to let you know, your flat is a mess. Please don’t go back there alone until you get the locks changed.” I can see from the look in the detective’s eyes that she is affected by this as much as I am. I give her my word, and we finish up our coffees before I head back into the office.
When I am back at my desk, I send Taylor a quick text asking him if he will come back to my flat with me after work so that I can clean up. He tells me to meet him at the car at five, and I start to make a mental note of what I may need, trying to remember the state of the damage.
.........................
The afternoon flies by and it is not long before Taylor and I are standing outside my front door as I fumble with my keys. Taking them off me gently, Taylor calmly unlocks the door and swings it open. Once again, I am shocked by the devastation. Added to this is the fingerprinting dust, which seems to cover pretty much every surface.
With grim determination, I move forward, pulling out my cleaning supplies and black bags. “Taylor, you don’t need to stay,” I say to him, knowing that he has hours of work still to do this evening.
“I am not leaving you alone for a second.” Taylor growls the words, and I can see the anger flashing in his eyes. I know it is not directed at me, but it stills scares me a little. Instead of arguing, though, I simply hand him a sack. “Anything broken, chuck in there. The bins are out the back.”
I set to work scrubbing down the kitchen area, tears coming to my eyes when I take in my broken mixer, an eighteenth-birthday gift from Nonna. Taylor works fast, stopping every now and again if something seems salvageable to ask my opinion. After only a couple of hours, the pile of black sacks at the door has grown considerably, and it strikes me how bare my flat now looks, devoid of pictures and soft furnishings. My junk shop table and chairs are beyond repair, and they too are added to the pile along with my futon mattress, which has been shredded. Further tears come to my eyes as I try and pull the pieces of Nonna’s quilt back together. My precious laptop has not been touched, and that is my only comfort.
Taylor carries all the sacks and furniture out to the bins while I finish wiping down all the surfaces. When at last everything has been cleaned and tidied away to my satisfaction, I find myself sinking to the ground. I had been here for only four months, but it had become my home, and damn it, Richard had destroyed it all. I do my best to fight the tears, but my exhaustion overwhelms me, and I sob silently, hoping to get it out of my system before Taylor returns.
I don’
t hear Taylor come back in until he pulls me to my feet and into his arms, which curl around me in a tight embrace. “Let’s get out of here,” he says, speaking into my hair. “I’ll get someone to sort your locks out tomorrow while you are in Brighton.”
“Thanks, Taylor. For everything,” I murmur into his chest. I feel him tense and know he feels guilty that he has brought Richard into my life. But I know that now there is nowhere I would rather be than in Taylor’s arms. I squeeze him tightly before extricating myself, scooping up my laptop and heading out the door.
As we are getting into Taylor’s car, I suddenly have a thought and turn to him. “Um, Taylor, where are we sleeping tonight? I mean, the hotel is lovely, but it must cost a fortune.”
Taylor chuckles. “Back to the apartment tonight, I am afraid. The last of the extra security was installed today, so we are all set. That is, unless you want another night at the hotel?” He says this with a smirk, and I know he is remembering our session last night.
I feel the flush across my face and the stirring in my groin. “Um…the apartment would be lovely. But what about all our stuff?”
“Already delivered back to the apartment, Abs.” It must be lovely living in a world where people just handle things for you, but I find myself cringing slightly at the thought of someone else packing up my underwear. But I guess if that’s their job, then they have probably seen everything before, I reassure myself. But then I remember my corset and my whole body flushes with embarrassment.
“Your face is so expressive, Abby,” laughs Taylor, knowing the cause of my discomfort. “Stop stressing. It is all sorted.” I snort in response, knowing that it is not a very ladylike response but not knowing what else to say, and climb in the car.
Book One: Thirty Days, Book 1 Page 11