by Terry Towers
“Hope I’m not intruding, but I wanted to get the contract and official business all taken care of so we can get on with the more pleasurable part of our deal.”
“I, umm.” I guess the whole situation really was real and not some sort of joke. Him standing in the doorway of my bedroom was proof of that. A part of me kept thinking yesterday had been my imagination. But it hadn’t.
His gaze shifted from me to the bed piled with clothing. I turned, following his gaze. Throwing my hands up in the air, I admitted, “I don’t know how to pack for this.”
“By all means, naked works.”
I turned back and rolled my eyes at him. “Sex wasn’t required as per our amended agreement, remember?”
“You can be naked without us having sex.” He rubbed his chin with his left hand. “Perhaps I should modify the contract to say clothing not allowed. I might fully enjoy that.”
Smirking at him, I responded, “But wouldn’t that take away from the fun of the pursuit? Besides, we’ll have a child in the house.”
His smug smile faded a bit. “When you’re right, you’re right. We’ll stick with the original agreement. My lawyer is in the kitchen with your roommate, waiting on us.”
Wow, this wasn’t some figment of my imagination. It was actually happening. Walking past him, I got a whiff of his cologne, and immediately flashed to the kiss from earlier. Fuck, this was going to be torture. But someone had to beat this man down a peg. Maybe having a lady not fall over him would give the man a new appreciation for women.
It wasn’t just about the money; there were more to it than that. The money was a bonus that would change not just my life, but Isabella’s future. I wouldn’t have to worry about adding the stress of a full-time job with school. Isabella could go to a better school. Heck, we could move to a better area. It could be the start of an entirely different life.
He grabbed hold of my upper arm, stopping me in the doorway. “Not to take away from how you look in your uniform, but you look beautiful today.”
I looked down at myself. In all the excitement, I hadn’t even considered what I had on – which wasn’t much. A pair of men’s red plaid boxers and a form fitting black tank top. Groaning inwardly, I looked up at him to see if he was joking or serious. By the hungry look in his eyes as he stared down at me, I realized he was indeed serious. His gaze sent a shiver through me, and I found myself thankful that I was wearing a padded bra, otherwise my tightening nipples would be poking through.
“Thanks.” I smiled up at him, but it was a nervous smile at best. I hadn’t factored in that he’d be turning up the charm. Or maybe this was just him naturally, no dialling up anything – if that was the case, I was in serious trouble.
Used condoms under the pillows. Sex toys on the floor. I forced the things that used to annoy the living shit out of me about him into my mind. It worked; my smile faded and I regarded him with narrowed eyes. With a concluding ‘humph,’ I spun on my heel and headed into the living room.
~*~ TT ~*~
Devon
I don’t think a pair of men’s flannel boxer shorts ever looked so good. Her ass was a nice, round bubble shape that bounced with each step. Not tidal wave bouncing, but enough jiggle that it made me want to grab those ass cheeks, bend her over the bed, yank those boxer briefs down, and fuck her senseless.
Don’t even get me started on those amazing tits. Most of the breasts I encountered had been altered in one way or another. Hers were a natural C cup with lots of life. How long before I’d be able to break through her curtain of hostility towards me so I could indulge in them?
At first, I had no intention of playing the game with her and turning up the charm. I was just going to revel in the fact she would eventually come to me. But I honestly didn’t know if I’d be able to wait her out. I needed to put more effort into seduction, if for no other reason than to get between her creamy thighs a lot sooner than it would take normally.
A month without a woman. Fuck, that would be insanity. This was supposed to be a fun challenge for me, but what if I failed? I hadn’t considered that option until she hit me with the dirty look of the century a moment ago.
Entering the small kitchen, I saw my lawyer was already going through the details of the contract, while Abigail and her roommate added their thoughts here and there. It hadn’t taken long to come up with the terms of the contact, but seeing the length of it, you’d have thought I’d prepared ahead of time. However, my lawyer had been up late into the night drawing up what he felt was a sketchy contract at best, illegal and non-binding at worst. My response was simple: he wasn’t getting paid to judge, it was his job to do what he was told. I had no intention of explaining myself and my motivation to anyone.
As they continued to go through the contact, I acquainted myself with the tiny apartment. There appeared to be two small bedrooms and a kitchen that had just enough room to accommodate a two-person table. I could only assume then that the glass coffee table in front of the blue plush sofa substituted for a kitchen table when both women and the little one were present. I was slightly disappointed that her daughter wasn’t around, I was curious to know what I’d be dealing with. I knew a lot about a lot of topics, being that I wasn’t just involved in real estate, but I liked to dabble in financing start up businesses from restaurants to daycares to general products, but one thing I failed at was knowledge of children.
If this was the type of home the kid was accustomed to, moving in with me for a month would be a serious culture shock for the child. The more that I thought about it, the more I realized it would be the same for me. She’d probably adjust quickly, as children generally do.
We’d see about me.
I hadn’t grown up rich. I came from a family of a single mother and three younger siblings. I remembered how my mother would play Russian roulette with the bills. We were never sure which utility would be shut off, and each day would be a ‘hold your breath and see’ waiting game.
Walking to the window doubling as an emergency exit, I thrust my hands into the pockets of my black slacks and stared out into the alleyway. We’d left the office and headed straight here, so I was still sporting my normal office attire.
As I stared out into the ally, watching a scraggly grey cat poking around behind a garbage can, my mind shifted back to memories of my days growing up. I’d eaten my share of food bank soup on more than one occasion, usually cold, with candlelight illuminating our scummy Bronx apartment.
But I didn’t regret my past; that was what made me strive for excellence and to be the best. I was the man I was today because of what I went through as a child and teenager. As much as I love winning, if I were to lose this bet it wouldn’t bother me, not really. I had a feeling that the money would go a long way to helping Abigail and her child. It was a winning situation for both of us - that’s what I told myself anyhow. What could go wrong?
“It looks like we’re about done here, Mr. Townstead. We are just needing your signature and then it’ll be official.”
“Of course.” I walked over to the trio and accepted the pen from my lawyer’s outstretched hand. I didn’t even look at the contact before signing; I’d already gone through it earlier this morning. Quickly, I scrawled my signature on the X’s line, my gaze locking with Abigail’s. She looked nervous – overwhelmed. Poor thing.
I gave her a smile and was pleased to see that she returned the grin. “It’s going to be a pleasure doing business with you, Miss Whitney.”
Her smile faded and I watched her gulp.
My grin widened.
Damn, this was going to be a helluva lot of fun.
~*~ TT ~*~
Abigail
It was as though I was seeing the penthouse for the very first time when I walked into his place, pulling a large suitcase along. Devon was behind me with a second and third suitcase of equal size. He’d assured me two for myself and one for Isabella would be enough, and if we needed more we could go shopping. He’d also promised that no matter
the occasion, if I didn’t have the proper attire we would get it.
Which led me to my next concern: was he planning on dragging me along to all the fancy affairs he attended? He wore a tux to usually two occasions a month; I knew this because I was the one getting them dry cleaned and/or putting it away the next day. What in the hell would I have to talk to those people about? Some of the richest and elite of the elite would be there. What would I say if they asked about my career? Tell them I was the maid, a single mom living with a roommate in a sketchy Bronx apartment?
I stood inside the doorway and felt the beginnings of the first and only panic attack of my life. This was stupid, this was insane. I was in over my head.
Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod.
“I give, what’s the problem? You look lost.”
I looked up at the voice and into Devon’s eyes. My god, the man was sex on two legs. As much as I bitched about how inconsiderate he was and what a dog he happened to be when it came to women, I couldn’t deny the draw I felt. I wanted him. But just because I wanted him didn’t mean I had to do anything stupid.
“I can’t do this.” I attempted to rush past him, but he stood in the way, blocking my path and escape.
“You can and will.”
“You can’t force me to stay here. I’m a mother, I have responsibilities.”
“I have a signed legal contract that says otherwise. And I’m sure Isabella will love it here. You’ll have problems convincing her to go home.”
Looking up into his eyes, I wasn’t sure if he would attempt to stop me if I insisted on leaving or not. My eyes narrowed as I studied his face, attempting to figure it out for myself. His expression was a blank slate, not offering any answers.
“Besides, we have an event to go to later tonight. It’s a two-thousand-dollars-a-plate meal, and your spot is already paid for.”
“So, are you saying that obligates me?”
“Is there any other way for you to see it? You signed a contract, period. But rest assured, I already have one of the best nannies in the city lined up to take care of Isabella.”
He said it with such a straight face that I laughed, I actually laughed. Closing my eyes, I inhaled deeply and slowly exhaled, opening my eyes as I released the breath.
He was right. I’d agreed to this crazy situation, and it was time to pay the piper. We were his roommates for a month, in a beautiful two-story penthouse overlooking Central Park – life could be a lot worse. And with so much space, Isabella would love living here. But eventually, reality would hit and we’d go back to living our regular, humble lives.
I guess I’d have to deal with that when the time came.
As far as attending the fancy dinner and such with him – I could fake it. Besides, Devon was the person of interest, and I would simply be part of the background. I’d be lucky to be even noticed.
Forcing a smile to my lips, I nodded and retreated into the foyer. “You’re right. A deal is a deal.”
“Great. We need to get you settled in because the personal shopper from Bloomingdales will be here in an hour to get your measurements and then bring back an assortment of gowns to suit the occasion.”
Chapter 4
Abigail
“I’m Madeline, from Bloomingdales. I’m told you need a gown for the Golden Ball event tonight?”
I shrugged. “Sure. I guess.” My eyes gave the other woman’s appearance a quick sweep. The young woman had her dark brown curly hair pinned up in a tight ponytail at the back of her head, and was dressed in a red printed blouse and short black skirt. Professional, but with a touch of sexy. Taking a step back, I motioned for her to enter.
She giggled, breezing past me and into the foyer. “Don’t worry, Mr. Townstead already told me what you need. All you have to do is sit back and enjoy. In a couple of hours, you’ll have a dress that will make every woman there envious.”
Considering there would likely be hundreds of socialites sporting thousands of dollars worth in boob jobs, butt lifts, and god only knew what else, I highly doubted I’d outshine them. Not with my bargain store make-up and ass whose only exercise was the everyday work of a maid.
“Don’t worry. You’ll be surprised what we can accomplish. You have an amazing body as a canvas, just consider me the painter.”
I raised an eyebrow at her, not entirely convinced.
My body. A canvas? What in the hell was she smoking to figure that?
“Do you mind if we take your measurements here? Or would you like to go somewhere a little more private?”
“Do I have to get naked?” I’m not sure how comfortable I was getting undressed in front of the stunning woman with the perfect size-four figure before me.
She shrugged. “Not if you don’t want to.”
“I’d rather not. So here would be fine, I guess.” Devon was gone for the afternoon with the promise of being home by five to get ready for the night’s event, while Isabella was at her gymnastics camp, so the place was empty. Apparently, Devon had arranged for her drop-off and pick-up from now on, so he’d really thought of everything. Al least it gave me time to get acquainted to my new temporary home. I was determined to give the hot tub in the master bedroom a try; each time I cleaned it, I’d always longed to get undressed and go for a soak. Bathing in that huge four-person hot tub, with some candles going and a good book in my hands – now that sounded like heaven to me.
Madeline pulled a pad of paper, a pen and a small measuring tape from her handbag. Opening the pad, I noticed there was a fair amount of information already recorded including my name and the event I was going to, along with a lot of blanks to be filled out.
“Okay, so, I just need you to stand up straight, head up and your arms raised parallel to the floor please. This will be over in a jiffy.”
In a jiffy, I silently repeated, raising my chin and arms to let her do her work.
~*~ TT ~*~
“These are the selections we’ve picked out for you to choose from.”
Madeline was back, this time with a rolling rack of a couple dozen dresses, most floor length and form fitting. I thumbed through the hangers, marvelling at the contents. Each dress was stunning in its own way. However, they were totally going to put my tummy roll on display. I thought she was supposed to be an expert?
“What’s wrong, hun?”
I was too embarrassed to give her my opinion so simply shrugged. Was money worth the humiliation I was going to have to endure over the next month?
“Why don’t you try them and then make a decision.”
That sounded fair. I had nothing better to do with my time, I guess.
“Where would you like to go to try these on?”
We couldn’t get the rack upstairs to the bedrooms, so I guided her to the living room area and had her place it by the door.
“Why don’t you try this one first? I love red on women with dark hair and eyes.” She pulled out a strapless red gown which was form fitting until it hit mid-thigh, where it burst out in ruffles upon ruffles of red and silver lace frills. It was stunning, but I couldn’t imagine it looking good on me.
“Trust me and try it,” she added when I hesitated.
Taking the dress from her, I exited the room and entered the washroom down the hall. I quickly shed my jeans and pulled my t-shirt up over my head. Folding my clothing, I placed them on the long two-sink vanity and gave the dress a look of both longing and apprehension before stepping into it and pulling it up my body. As I zipped it up, the garment tightened around my hips, waist, and lower torso, and this is where I started to have issues. No matter how much wiggled and squirmed, grunted and groaned, I couldn’t get the fucker up any further. It was taking me minutes, minutes I tell you, which is a long time to pull up a dress.
There was a light knock on the door. “Do you need some help, Abigail?”
You better believe I did. How in the name of god did people pull up these zippers on their own? With a loud groan of frustration, I opened the door and stepped
out. “I’d love some, I’m having an issue with a zipper in here.”
“Oh dear, I forgot to give you these first.” She handed me a pair of Spanx that ran from the thighs right up to under the boobs. “Trust me, it’ll make you feel like a million bucks.”
It was as if she read my mind. “Okay. I’ll be right back.”
Taking the Spanx, I returned to the bathroom and carefully removed the dress, then began the agony of pulling on the Spanx. I usually hated this type of garment; they made using the restroom a hassle that I had no desire to put myself through. If I’d thought that the dress gave me an issue, this garment was ten times worse. But after more than a little frustration, it was on and I sighed, grinning triumphantly as I turned to the mirror.
Giving myself a once over, I had to admit the result looked pretty damned good. The tummy I was always so self-conscious over had virtually disappeared. My gaze dropped to the dress on the counter. Part two of this ordeal. This time though, the dress seemed to go on easier. The zipper, however, did not.
Exiting the bathroom, I shrugged. “The best I could do.”
“Not a problem, pulling up zippers is part of my job.” Making a swirling motion with her index finger, she motioned for me to turn my back to her. I obliged, lifting my hair up and bundling it at the top of my head while she did the blasted zipper.
I inhaled as the bodice of the dress tightened around my torso. It fit though, if only to say the zipper went up all the way and I didn’t bust a seam. Thank god for small miracles. Looking at myself in the mirror, I had to admit, I liked the image reflecting back at me. I’d never worn anything like this before, not even to my senior prom. Just fingering the material, I could tell it was high quality even though I had no idea what the fabric was.