Serving Mr. Stevens, Part Two: Lover's Complaint -- An Erotic Romance (Part 2 of 5)

by Stratton, Nathan

  Serving Mr. Stevens:

  An Erotic Romance

  By NATHAN STRATTON

  PART TWO: Lover’s Complaint

  ***

  Copyright 2013 Nathan Stratton. All rights reserved.

  Reproduction of this work prohibited unless the author grants permission.

  Approx. word count: 11,450

  ***

  NOTE: This is part 2 of a five-part erotic romance. It is not essential to read Part 1 before Part 2. However, Part 1, “The Contract,” contains much of the back-story for the book, and describes the first meeting between Candace and Mr. Stevens.

  Download Part One: The Contract on Amazon.com here: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00B3DGLR4/?tag=nathastrat-20

  ***

  If you’ve purchased this book, please consider leaving a review after reading it.

  I read all my reviews, and I take feedback very seriously. Thank you.

  Look for the next installment of Serving Mr. Stevens,

  “Part 3: Masquerade,” in March 2013!

  Contact Nathan at NSthewriter@gmail.com.

  Make sure to pick up Part 1 of Serving Mr. Stevens, “The Contract,” if you haven’t already!

  ***

  Serving Mr. Stevens

  Part Two: Lover’s Complaint

  ***

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Chapter 1: Green-Eyed Serpent

  Chapter 2: The Morning After

  Chapter 3: Stevens Manor

  Chapter 4: Fit to be Tied

  Chapter 5: Lover’s Complaint

  Chapter 1: Green-Eyed Serpent

  …Guiding me by the hand, he led me to the door of his office. He kissed me hard on the mouth, just once. I tried to steal another kiss, but he turned away.

  “That will be all for now, Candace. Thank you. This will be a very demanding job, but I trust that you won’t disappoint me. And believe me, you’d better go home and get some rest. You start tomorrow.”

  As soon as I was alone in the entryway, all my emotions came flooding out at once. I’d found out what the proposition was, but now I had even more questions than before. And if Mr. Stevens was meeting the President, then just how powerful was he?

  One thing’s for sure, though, I thought to myself. No matter what happens now, my life is never going to be the same.

  If only I knew how just true that statement would turn out to be…

  ***

  Still standing in the entryway to Mr. Stevens’ office, I took a moment to collect myself as best I could. I looked down at my ripped-up clothes, running my finger along a torn piece of my blouse. It was a visual reminder of what Mr. Stevens had just done to me, the way he’d tossed me around and used me for his pleasure. I’d gone out and bought this outfit solely for the job interview, and now it was completely ruined; the rough sex we’d had made sure of that quickly enough.

  Was it worth it? I mused to myself. I rubbed my backside, which was still throbbing from the hard slaps he’d given me. It hurt – quite a bit, in fact. But I didn’t mind the pain. It was a delicious kind of hurt, and just like my torn blouse, it was a reminder of Mr. Stevens, and of the contract I’d just signed with him. I grinned, closing my eyes and visualizing the heat of the previous moment. Him in his business suit, pounding me from behind against his executive desk. My hands bound tightly behind my back, rendering me absolutely powerless to resist him. My orgasm… and his.

  Oh, yeah, I thought to myself. It was worth it, all right.

  Just then, a sharp knock rang out on the exterior doorway, chasing all those pleasant memories out of my head. My eyes sprang open, and I stiffened in place as if I’d been caught doing something wrong.

  A clipped, high-pitched voice came from the other end. “Candace?”

  It was Katarina, the receptionist. The realization put me even more on edge. She’d acted like such a bitch to me earlier; I could only imagine what she was going to say to me now.

  I hesitated, perking my ear towards the door. “Yes?” I called out.

  “Oh, so you are in there,” she said. “I just wanted to let you know that I’ve got a change of clothes for you out here... Mr. Stevens asked me to get them for you. Would you like them now?”

  I took a tentative step towards the door. “Um, all right,” I said. I cracked the door open slightly, suddenly too shy to let her see me like this. I peeked out with one eye to see Katarina standing there with a bundle of clothing in her hand.

  “Thanks,” I said, grabbing the bundle from her and shutting the door again. I quickly changed, casting off my torn items and pulling on a pair of loose-fitting gray slacks and a dark red top. They were beautiful pieces, and they fit perfectly. It was though Mr. Stevens, somehow, had known exactly my size.

  I smiled, looking back towards the inner door towards his office. Is he still in there? I wondered. He’d said he had to run off right away – for a meeting with the President, no less, although I wasn’t yet sure I believed that. But I took pleasure in imagining him sitting there at his big oaken desk, pen in hand, sending off the order to make sure I was dressed in only the best clothing money could buy. I had no idea if that was what happened, of course – but the uncertainty of it made the gesture all the sweeter. He was keeping his motives a mystery, leaving me to fill in the blanks for myself. I shook my head, still smiling. This guy was an enigma, that was for sure. And I couldn’t wait to figure him out.

  I opened the door and stepped back out into the lobby, clutching my torn clothing under my arm. Katarina was back at her post, standing behind the receptionist’s desk. She looked up at me as I walked out, and gave me a look I couldn’t interpret. Again, I got the distinct sense that she was judging me, that she was dying to pass some insulting comment. But she didn’t scare me. I met her eyes and walked towards her with all the confidence I could muster, not backing away from her gaze.

  As I approached her desk, her eyes fell to the clothes under my arm. I caught the faintest hint of a reaction on her face, but she masked it just as quickly. When she looked back up at me, she was perfectly composed.

  “May I help you with anything else?” she asked, her prim-and-proper façade firmly back in place. She paused after speaking, cocking her head at me and narrowing her eyes so slightly as to be nearly imperceptible. Her eyes flitted up to my tousled hair and down to my face again. “…Or did Mr. Stevens already take care of you?”

  Suddenly, it all fell into place. Something clicked in my mind: she’s jealous, I realized. That’s why she’s acting like this. It all made perfect sense now – I was the new girl, after all, and who knows whether Katarina and Mr. Stevens had any sort of history between them. All of a sudden, I felt a strange, haughty pride in my disheveled appearance, my messed-up hair and smudged makeup. I knew she understood exactly what had transpired between Mr. Stevens and me, and there was absolutely no mistaking that jealous gleam in her eye.

  The signs couldn’t be clearer: Katarina’s thinly-veiled disdain was just an attempt to intimidate me. And I was not about to let that happen.

  I smirked at her, letting the sting of her words glance off me harmlessly. “He certainly did,” I responded, a big, friendly smile on my face. “Would you like to hear the details?”

  I had to stifle a laugh when I saw her recoil at my question. She was totally thrown-off, and I had the pleasure of watching her scramble for an appropriate rebuttal. “…I don’t inquire into Mr. Stevens’ personal affairs,” she said finally.

  “Excellent,” I replied. “Then have a nice day.” And wi
th that, I turned on my heels and walked away from her, not waiting for a response.

  As I sauntered towards the elevator, I was inwardly cheering myself on while trying to maintain my outward composure. I rocked that, I thought to myself. I’d completely turned the tables on her, and I’d definitely shown her who was the boss. I felt like the shy, dorky girl in high school who’d just put the head cheerleader in her place.

  I walked into the elevator, my body buzzing with adrenaline. As the elevator doors closed, I allowed myself the slightest glance in her direction; she was still staring after me, a look on her face like she didn’t know what to do.

  As soon as the doors closed, I breathed a huge sigh of relief. What a rush. “You go, girl,” I said out loud. Suddenly, I was exhausted -- not just from the interaction with Katarina, but from the manhandling I’d been given by Mr. Stevens just before. It was time to go home, I decided, and have a well-deserved nap.

  ***

  But for that whole evening and into the night, sleep was difficult to come by. My mind was a swirling mess, and I couldn’t stop replaying the events of the day over and over in my head. I tossed and turned that night, thinking about my encounter in Mr. Stevens’ office. No one had ever treated me like that before. I thought about when he slapped my ass and asked me if it hurt. “Yes,” I’d said. “Good,” he’d replied. His words still rang in my ears, hours after the fact. That delicious mix of pleasure and pain… I couldn’t get enough of it, even if the severity of his demeanor did scare me a bit.

  There was something else bothering me, a nagging undertone I just couldn’t shake away. Why me? I kept thinking. What have I got to offer him? He could have anyone. It was that question that kept me up, late into that fitful night. My only explanation was that he saw something in my personality that attracted him to me – but what was it? I tried to think back to that first interaction, our conversation in the coffee shop… I’d been instantly drawn to him, even though he’d shocked me with his stern commands. From the moment we met, I realized, I’d been trying to please him, to prove my worth to him. Was that what he wanted? I wondered, my half-formed thoughts appearing in a muddy stream of consciousness. Am I just a servant to him? Some sexual plaything? …Or am I something more?

  It was just one in a long list of unanswered questions. The more I thought about him, the less certain I was of anything. But there was one thing I knew for sure; I felt it down to the core of my body, as inevitable as the pull of gravity. I was hooked on him, completely addicted – for better or worse. And I could feel myself getting drawn in further towards him with every passing moment.

  It’s a dangerous game you’re playing, Candace, I told myself. And you don’t even know the rules. I only wondered how far our game would go. What if he went past my limits? Our contract stated I was free to leave at any time… but that depended on me saying “no” to him. Would it ever come to that? And if it did, would I find the strength?

  I wasn’t sure, and I didn’t want to find out just yet. I only knew I couldn’t wait to feel his strong, commanding hands on me again.

  Chapter 2: The Morning After

  As could probably be expected, I dreamt about Mr. Stevens the whole night through. In my dream, he was my rescuer, saving me from a dark and terrifying force I couldn’t see. Holding me by the hand, he led me away from the darkness and brought me to safety, over and over. At every turn, we searched for a moment of sweet solace – but following right behind us came the intruder, forcing us to run again.

  I woke with a start, my eyes shooting open in the harsh morning light. I blinked a few times in a dazed, groggy stupor. It was all just a dream, I thought. It was all just a crazy dream. For a split-second, I’d forgotten all about the previous day, and Mr. Stevens seemed like merely a figment of my imagination. There was no contract, no tryst – no dominant billionaire staking claim to my body. I felt a confusing mix of disappointment and relief.

  But my respite was short-lived. The next moment, my phone rang, bringing all my fanciful thoughts back down to earth. In a flash, it all came flooding back to me. My hand trembling with the sudden realization, I reached over and picked up the phone.

  I knew who it was before he even spoke; still, that stern, gravelly voice shot a chill into my heart.

  “You’re late.”

  I gulped. “What?” It was the only coherent word my jumbled mind could produce at the moment.

  “I expected you at 8:30 this morning,” he said. “Didn’t the driver come to get you?”

  I looked outside; sure enough, there was a black Lincoln Town Car idling on the street below outside my apartment, with a well-dressed gentleman leaning next to it and smoking a cigarette.

  “I… he didn’t say anything,” I stammered. “I didn’t even know he was here. I’m sorry, sir.”

  He didn’t answer for a moment. I pictured him seething silently on the other end of the line. When he finally spoke, the icy tone of his voice contained a simmering rage underneath it. “I’ll deal with him later,” he said simply, with a grim finality to his words that made me shudder. “Meanwhile, I expect you to come here right away. There’s much to talk about, and no time for further mistakes like this one. I am not pleased, Candace.”

  I didn’t like the sound of that. “I’m really very sorry, sir,” I repeated. I didn’t know what else to say.

  He sighed. “…It’s not your fault,” he said finally. It was a relief to hear those words. Even though I already knew I wasn’t to blame, I was scared of Mr. Stevens’ temper, and it was good to know he wasn’t mad at me. “Now, get moving,” he said. “I’ll see you shortly.”

  With that, he hung up, leaving me sitting on the bed with a thousand thoughts running through my mind. I glanced at the phone, and gasped when I saw that it was already 9:45. Wow, I really did sleep late, I thought. It must have been that crazy dream.

  I threw off the covers and jumped out of bed. Luckily, if there’s one thing working the morning shift at a coffee shop teaches you, it’s how to get ready in a rush. I grabbed the same clothes from yesterday and threw them on in a flash, swiping deodorant under my arms and spritzing myself with body spray as I struggled to pull on my shoes. There was no time to shower, no time to think – that would have to wait for later. I grabbed a banana from the kitchen on my way out the door, pausing for just a second to check myself out in the mirror. Surprisingly, I didn’t look as disheveled as I felt. My eyes had that smoky, slept-in look of smudged mascara to them, and my hair was actually behaving itself this morning. I checked the time again: 9:53. From start to finish in eight minutes, and I didn’t look half-bad either. Not too shabby, Candace, I grinned to myself.

  ***

  When I emerged from the door of my building, the driver jumped up in surprise, flicking his cigarette into the gutter. “There you are,” he said gruffly. “What happened? I’ve been ringing your doorbell for over an hour.”

  Oh, crap, I groaned inwardly, as I realized what had happened. My doorbell had been busted for months. “The bell doesn’t work,” I said sheepishly. “I’m sorry about that. Don’t worry, I’ll clear it up with Mr. Stevens. I’m sure he’ll understand.”

  The driver harrumphed. “That man, understand? I doubt it. But that’s all right, miss. Old Tommy doesn’t scare me.”

  Tommy? The driver’s words came as a surprise to me, and compelled me to get a closer look at him. He was a man of about sixty years, immaculately dressed in a navy suit and driver’s cap with a black bill. His white whiskers and bright blue eyes gave him a look that was equal parts dignified and boyish, suggesting a sharp wit hiding behind his creased and furrowed face. His spotless white gloves completed the effect, adding an air of formality to his appearance. I took an immediate liking to him.

  “I’m Candace,” I said, sticking out my hand to him for a handshake. “Pleased to meet you.”

  As soon as I spoke, his expression softened. He broke out into a wide smile, and to my surprise, he took my hand in his own and kissed it.
His moustache tickling my fingers, and I giggled a bit in spite of myself. “The pleasure is mine, madam,” he said, stooping a bit in deference as he spoke. “Carlton Fairbanks, at your service – but you can call me Carl.” When he looked back into my eyes, I saw a mischievous sparkle there; he reminded me of my grandfather. I felt instantly at ease.

  He smiled warmly, and with a small flourish he opened the curb-side passenger door for me. “Shall we be on our way, then?” he asked. I stepped gingerly into the car, ducking slightly as I entered. It was gorgeously outfitted, with sumptuous dark leather seats and ebony trim all around its spacious back seat. And to my further surprise, there was a small breakfast laid out on the center console: a croissant, a bowl of grapes, and a small glass of orange juice. There was even a daffodil sticking out of a vase.

  “Hey, this is nice!” I said, as Carl closed the door behind me and climbed into the front seat. There was a glass plate between the back and front seats, so I had to pull it open to speak to him. “Carl, this is wonderful!” I said. “Thank you so much!”