[Enthrall Sessions 01.0] Enthrall

by Vanessa Fewings

  Reverently, I picked up the small rectangle plastic sleeve containing the mint condition 1952 Mickey Mantle baseball card. I’d just retrieved it from that metal box I kept hidden in the cupboard. I got it out for moments like this. A lifeline to my past and I found it comforting to look at. It reminded me of my father. I’d managed to salvage it from a footlocker he had left after he died. His widow, Lorraine, had sold off everything else at a Rose Bowl swap meet. We needed the money. She’d not seen me rummage through his stuff and take it out. I felt guilty as hell as it would fetch around ten thousand dollars, maybe even more, which was a small fortune to me. I’d gotten the card valued once when hunger had pushed me to it, but when it came to letting it go I’d not been able to part with it. This Mickey Mantle card was my only reminder of him.

  If I couldn’t get this job I was going to have to sell it.

  The wine tasted bitter. Having gone for the cheapest bottle, I now suffered the consequences of drinking the overly fermented white; an acerbic twang lingered. Still, its promise of numbing this ache in my chest kept me sipping away.

  To think I’d spent hours mulling over whether I felt ready to work in a fetish club. I’d self-explored with surprising results and come to terms with the idea of a place like Enthrall. I’d reassured myself I’d merely be working as their secretary. Not that it mattered now.

  There lingered a curiosity for what went on in those dungeons. A fascination with Mistress Lotte who, according to Tara, was one of L.A.’s most renowned dominatrixes. Her BDSM world of black leather and whips lay a million miles away from my own.

  I braved another sip and smacked my lips together to soften the sharp tang attacking my tongue.

  My iPhone rang and I nudged it away. I didn’t care who was calling. I wasn’t going to answer. My hand betrayed me and I glanced at the number. Wasn’t that the area code for Santa Monica? Or even Pacific Palisades?

  I took a gulp of wine.

  CHAPTER 3

  BAILEY HAD COME THROUGH for me yet again.

  She’d leant me all of her black dresses until I could afford to go out and buy my own. Black being the dress code for Enthrall. My head was still spinning that I’d actually gotten this job. Talk about reading people wrong. Those three vixens had actually liked me. What a mind fuck.

  There was a simple design to my desk, with its elegant glass front panel that was perfect for showing off my new boots. The flat screen computer was easy to navigate and Lotte had provided me with Enthrall’s diary in which I’d be making all their appointments.

  Wearing this Elie Tahari Estelle dress, I hoped to make the best impression on my first day. Along with my Calvin Klein black high-heeled boots, which was the only item I’d been able to afford to buy brand new in a Macy’s sale.

  I already missed my friends from the art store and promised them I’d stay in touch, just as I had with my Cheesecake pals who’d made those long evenings of waiting tables all the more bearable. I’d told them my new job was as a hostess in a nightclub, not sure quite what they would think of me if I shared the truth. I still had to break it to Lorraine.

  Breathing in the fresh scent of incense, I marveled at how quickly this had all happened. My life had taken what felt like a 180 degree turn. A sense of order found me for the first time in years. My fear of having crashed and burned at my interview was now replaced with a sense of pride that I’d pulled it off. My one chance to let them see my potential had gone way better then I’d thought. Excitement swelled in my chest as I took everything in.

  Behind that main doorway to my left, where clients were not allowed to venture, were three lavishly decorated offices. Next came the luxurious well-stocked coffee room, and they even had a staff changing room that doubled as a spa. It reminded me of one of those high-end places where you spend a fortune at to get pampered on your birthday, with its heavenly scent of sandalwood and the Buddha head resting upon an elegant waterfall pushed up against the far wall. A wooden bench sat facing it for staff needing to Zen-out. There was even a Jacuzzi and a sauna in there; the lemon ice-water drinking fountain made a nice touch. I’d been giddy with excitement when Lotte had invited me to use the facilities.

  Enthrall’s other elevator sat behind me. It’s old fashioned crisscrossed golden gate providing a dramatic entryway into the lowest level. Lotte had given strict orders that under no circumstances were any guests allowed to venture down there without prior consent. She’d gone on to advise me I was also forbidden. Though being banned from the dungeon was fine by me.

  The reception area was all dark wood and dim-lighting. A familiar theme it seemed. The burgundy, velvet sofa looked cozy. The hardwood floor provided a loft-like feel, though the deep red walls of the entryway gave off a disquieting aura. There was a perfection here that made me unsettled. Would I ever get used to it?

  There came a ping from the front elevator.

  Preparing to meet the first client of the day, I ran through my mind how I’d greet them and what kind of words I might draw on to soften what must be an embarrassing ordeal of needing to visit this place. Opening Enthrall’s appointment diary and scanning today’s page, I couldn’t see any appointments scheduled earlier than 2:00 P.M.

  The elevator doors parted and a tall, dashing, twenty-something man strolled out, his short sandy-blond hair windswept, the strap to his satchel lying flat across his chest. He headed fast toward me with his hand cupping his right eye.

  “Hi.” He waved at me and headed for the staff door.

  I flew from my seat and edged my way between him and the door. “I’m sorry, sir, but that’s staff only,” I said, proud of the authority in my voice.

  I was sandwiched between him and the door.

  He peered down at me with his noble, intelligent face. The kind that hints at good breeding, as though both his parents had been stunners. Like he’d stepped off the cover of a yachting magazine, all suntan and privilege. Yes, beautiful, that was it, and rugged at the same time. An hypnotic combo.

  “My contact lens is boring its way into my iris.” He scrunched up his face. “Please, get out of my way.”

  “Sir, I’m going have to ask you to take a seat.”

  “What temp agency are you from?” he said.

  “I’m not a temp. I work here full-time.”

  “No you don’t.” He seethed, grabbing the handle and opening the door. He nudged me aside and bolted down the hallway.

  Annoyed by his arrogance, I ran to my desk and pushed the panic button.

  Nothing.

  What good was an alarm if no one responded? I opened the door and peeked down the hallway. At least I’d warned them we had an intruder.

  Mistress Lotte appeared, taking her time to reset the alarm on what looked like an air con panel on the wall. “Mia,” she said, “everything’s fine.”

  “You know him?” My gaze moved over her shoulder and rested on the young man who’d barged in.

  Oh shit.

  He fixed on me with a glaring intensity, his midnight blue eyes burning through me. Chiseled features worn so well on a proud face. An edgy confidence. He wore round rimmed glasses, having taken out his contacts, and that five o’clock shadow I’d failed to notice when he’d first appeared oozed don’t mess with me. Yet he dressed preppy, his white shirt open at the collar and his black jacket now removed.

  Lotte motioned toward him. “Mia, this is Richard Booth. Your new boss.” She turned around. “Master Richard, I’m delighted to introduce you to your new secretary, Ms. Lauren.”

  My blood pressure spiked and my legs wobbled as I realized this strikingly handsome man, this apparent dominant, was my boss.

  I steadied my breathing.

  “Mia’s well trained,” said Lotte. “See, even we can’t get in.” She made it a joke.

  “Why didn’t I get to interview her?” he said icily.

  “We have the director’s approval,” said Lotte. “He wants you to know this is non-negotiable.”

  “When is anything nego
tiable with him?” said Richard.

  “Say hello,” Lotte whispered to him.

  Her domineering demeanor had its expected effect upon him.

  He conceded with a nod. “Ms. Lauren, I like my coffee white with one sugar. My office, five minutes.”

  “Please,” I said.

  Lotte threw me a look of surprise.

  “Please,” he said with a frown.

  “Call me Mia,” I said, remembering Tara telling me to act self-assured. “May I call you Richard?”

  He turned on his heel and headed off through the door.

  “Beam that sweet smile of yours,” said Lotte. “He’s bound to come round.”

  A little disconcerted he’d not known about me being hired, I headed past Lotte and into the kitchen.

  I inhaled the fresh scent of the finest coffee beans. They were costly too, based on the price tag on the packet. Musing how the smell was always nicer than it tasted, I added milk from the carton I found in the stainless-steel fridge, grabbed a sweet and low and a white sugar sachet, and headed out. Pausing before Richard’s door I stole a moment to raise my guard, preparing to feign nonchalance. Richard was a little scary.

  He chatted away on the phone and gestured where I could place his mug, pointing to a silver coaster on his desk. Careful not to spill any, I rested it on the coaster and stepped back. Richard oozed intensity even when he wasn’t looking at you. I was happy to head out of there.

  “Mia?” he called after me, his hand covering the receiver. “One moment, please.”

  I neared his desk again.

  He rifled through a beige folder lying open on his desk. “I have his file here,” he told the caller. “What happened?”

  This had to be the swankiest office I’d ever been in with its wooden paneled walls and an even darker bookcase. Instead of books, it housed several ornaments: a Buddha on the lowest shelf continuing the theme from the changing room, a sailing yacht rested upon the uppermost shelf, and just beneath that, tucked inside another alcove, lay a medieval thumb screw. That really clashed with the Buddha.

  Along the back far left wall rested a luxury leather studded sofa. I imagined him stretching out those long legs of his and taking a nap during his lunch break.

  To the right hung three black framed photographs. A single man had been captured in each one, performing some kind of daredevil stunt. In the first, the man literally hung from a sheer rock face, the shot taken from a helicopter; the man wasn’t wearing a safety harness. The middle photo had caught a man jumping off the top of the Eiffel Tower, a thin parachute strapped to his back. In the third photo, and easily the most extreme of all three, a man reached out beyond the confines of an underwater cage toward a shark.

  I looked away and wondered if Tara had decided to go to Australia yet, though hoped for Bailey’s sake she’d change her mind.

  “Absolutely, revoke his membership,” said Richard. “Refund him.” He peered up at me.

  I snapped my head away from the shark photo. Somehow the thing had drawn me back.

  “No, I completely agree,” added Richard. “Dominic, thank you for taking care of that. I’ll see you later.” He hung up and his gaze followed mine.

  “Those men are crazy,” I said, though the one trying to pat the shark was certifiable.

  “He pulled his arm in before the great white came any closer,” said Richard. “Pretty cowardly if you ask me.”

  I gave him the frown that deserved.

  He took a sip of coffee and pulled a face.

  “Oh.” I opened my palm. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted sweet and low or—”

  He pointed. “The real stuff.”

  I ripped open the sachet and poured white crystals into his coffee, stirring it with the wooden stick before throwing it into the trash bin beneath his desk.

  Richard took another sip. “Better.” His gaze lowered. “Nice boots.”

  “They’re new.” I suppressed a cringe at my embarrassing answer.

  “I like them.”

  This was the hint of kindness I needed to see from the man I’d be working for and it felt nice to catch a glimpse of his thoughtfulness.

  He took another sip. “Lotte’s been over everything with you?”

  “She has.”

  He swiveled in his high-backed chair. “You completely understand what it is we do here and you’re one hundred percent on board with it?”

  “Oh yes,” I said, hoping he didn’t ask for specifics.

  “Every day you’ll arrive half an hour before me. Check my emails and tell me which ones are urgent. Do not answer them on my behalf. Ever.” He leaned forward. “First thing, we’ll go over the day’s appointments. Not all of them are reserved for Enthrall.” He waved that off. “We can go over that later.”

  “Thank you for this opportunity,” I said. “I’m very grateful.”

  He looked surprised. “I didn’t hire you. The director did.”

  “Oh.”

  He leaned back and that icy-stare lingered on me for a little too long.

  “Another coffee?” I said.

  “Haven’t finished this one.” His stare refused to let up.

  There came a flitter in my solar plexus, a foreign feeling I couldn’t quite place.

  Richard slid open a side drawer and reached in.

  He held his palm out to me. “Here.”

  I stepped forward and took the key out of his hand and his touch made my fingers tingle. He snapped his hand back.

  “It’s for the elevator gate to the dungeon,” he said. “It’s your job to open the gate for guests and their escorts. Keep this hidden. Don’t take it home.” He narrowed his gaze. “Don’t go down there without my permission. Am I clear?”

  I gave a nod.

  “That’ll be all for now.”

  I headed for the door.

  “Make our clients happy,” he said. “That’s all we ask of you. Be polite. Patient. Kind.”

  “Of course,” I said, turning back to face him. “What else would I be?”

  His keen stare found me again. “Buddha Nine.”

  “Sorry?”

  “The password to my Gmail account.”

  “Got it.” I closed the door behind me.

  In the kitchen I poured myself a coffee from what was left over and returned to my desk. Within minutes I’d used Richard’s code to access his emails. Nervous he’d know I’d rummaged through the old ones, which I really wanted to do, I resisted.

  Other than a new email from a Cameron Cole, confirming meeting Richard later this evening at some place called Soho House, nothing else came in for several hours. This gave me time to rearrange my desk. The office supplies were all over the place so it took me a little over an hour to get organized.

  The elevator pinged and I knew to expect Monsieur Trourville. His name had been neatly written in Enthrall’s diary for a 2:00 P.M.

  Lotte had explained that clients were uncomfortable with their names being stored on any kind of database, therefore all appointments were written in pencil and erased by the secretary when the client presented. I wondered how they kept track for billing and tax purposes, but wasn’t going to mention that in case she handed that aspect of Enthrall’s administration over to me. Hanging out here at reception, transferring the occasional call, typing up the odd letter for Richard, as well as welcoming guests, had a nice feel to it. After trying to hold down two jobs I was grateful for the break. And just this for the amazing salary of seventy-five thousand dollars a year showed I’d landed on my feet for once.

  Monsieur Trourville strolled down the hall. I rose to greet him. His name made him sound old, but he was in his thirties. His air of superiority broke when he smiled. He looked so formal in his three-piece suit and waistcoat. A kind face and regal arched nose would have said European even if his name hadn’t.

  “Monsieur Trourville,” I said, “May I get you a drink?”

  “No, but thank you,” he said. “You must be Enthrall’s new secretary? Mi
stress Lotte told me a new girl would be here when I came in.”

  I went to shake his hand. “I’m Mia.”

  Aghast, he glared at my hand. “I don’t…”

  Lotte burst through the staff doorway. “Monsieur.” Her usual kindness was gone, her demeanor domineering. “Sir, you’re late. This is unacceptable.”

  The wall clock proved he was in fact right on time. Yet he accepted this accusation and bowed his head in shame.

  “I see you’ve met our new secretary.” She turned to me. “Unlock the gate please, Ms. Lauren.”

  Relieved Lotte’s sternness wasn’t directed at me, I removed my well hidden key from the second drawer down. I eased it into the lock of the golden crisscrossed gate. It turned smoothly. On Lotte’s nod, I slid it open and called the elevator with a push of a button. The doors parted and Monsieur Trourville and Lotte stepped inside.

  “Lock it,” said Lotte.

  The doors closed on them.

  I hoped they had another means of escape should one be needed. Though to be honest, the way Lotte had Monsieur Trourville under her control that was the least of his worries.

  Lotte carried a whip.

  CHAPTER 4

  AFTER A WEEK I really felt I’d gotten the hang of this.

  Richard had stayed out of my way, hardly giving me any work to do, and I’d actually gotten to hang out in the coffee room with Lotte, Scarlet, and the former Ms. BlackBerry, now known as Lady Penny. Though Penny only worked some of the time at Enthrall, apparently.

  I felt grateful when they welcomed me into their clique, offering words of encouragement and sharing their wisdom about all the life lessons they’d learned on work, love, and as Scarlet put it, most importantly, shopping. All of this while sharing crumbling homemade cookies that Lotte had brought in. They may have looked menacing in their dominatrix outfits but they were kind to me.