by B. B. Hamel
It’s not, of course, and I get into the shower to wash myself. I feel like I’m cleaning days’ worth of grime from my body even though I showered the night before, just as the auction was about to begin.
Showers can be hard for me sometimes. It feels good, but it’s strange. I can still remember waking up in a shower, half naked, my body bruised and battered and wondering where the hell I am. That was one of the lowest points in my life when I realized what I did just to score some drugs.
It was when I was lying on the floor of that shower, half conscious of what had happened, that I realized I was at rock bottom. It was the lowest point of my life. And I can’t help but think about it every time I get in the shower.
I’m disgusted by the person I was. I’ve been clean for two years and have no plan to go back, but I still feel that stupid junky deep inside of me, begging to get out.
I made mistakes. I’ve been weak and frail and stupid before. But I pulled myself up off that shower floor, got the fuck out of that house, and checked myself into a rehab treatment facility.
Six months in there and I never looked back. I still owe them, which is actually just one small part of my debt, but it’s one debt that I won’t mind paying off. They saved me there, saved my life, showed me that a life without drugs is the life I want to lead.
I shut off the shower and get out, toweling myself off. I stare at myself in the mirror and wonder how I got from the bottom of that shower to this place. I run my fingers over the marble countertop and although I know that I’m just this man’s plaything, I can’t help but imagine that I’m something more.
I can’t let myself indulge in that, though. Ethan doesn’t care about me. He just wants to play a game. He wants me to be his pet and to stay in this room. Sure, he’s spoiling me, but it’s still his game that I have to play. He doesn’t want Aria, he doesn’t want the real me. He would turn and run the second he found out about me.
But maybe I can pretend, at least for a little while. I’ll have to pretend harder than I have been so far. I need this to go well.
Once I’m dry enough, I wrap a towel around me and head back out into the main room. I look around for my bags, but I don’t find them anywhere.
Instead, the drawers have clothes already in them, but they’re not my clothes. There are bras, panties, and some tops and bottoms. In the closet, several dresses hang, and it all looks to be in my size. For a second I panic, afraid that he took away my phone and my things. If I don’t have my phone, I can’t contact The Syndicate, and that would be bad.
But tucked in the back corner of the closet are my bags. I breathe a sigh of relief as I fish out my phone and shoot a text to the number they gave me, just letting them know that I’m fine and taken care of.
When that’s done, I go back into the main room and get dressed. I put on a matching bra and panty set, looking at myself in the mirror. I want to be pleasing to him, so I pick out a cute, revealing top and short little jean shorts.
Once dressed, I stand there and look at the room. The clock next to the bed says that it’s eight in the morning, and I realize that I have all day to kill.
I get my laptop from my bag, but there’s no open WiFi. Nervously, I grab the phone and hit zero before listening to it ring.
“Yes?” It’s Jenkins’s voice from the night before.
“Uh, hi, it’s Aria,” I say.
“Yes?” he asks again.
“I, uh, was wondering if there was a WiFi password?” I ask.
“No internet,” he says.
I pause. “No internet?” I repeat.
“I was instructed to keep you off the internet.”
I frown, disappointed. What the hell am I supposed to do all day then?
“Okay,” I say. “Thank you. Are there any books you could bring up?”
“Of course,” he says. “Will that be all?”
“Uh, yes. Thank you.”
The phone disconnects and I flop back onto the bed.
“No internet,” I groan to myself and roll over onto my side.
Jenkins brings up a box full of books not too long later, but he doesn’t stick around. He simply places the box outside of my door, knocks twice, and then leaves. I pull the box inside and start fishing through it. They’re mostly trashy romances, but that’s good enough.
I spend most of the day reading. It’s boring and slow, but it’s all I have to do. Eventually I figure out how to work the television, so I switch from reading to watching TV and back again all day long. Jenkins brings me lunch and dinner, but that’s the only human contact I get all day.
The food is good, so at least there’s that. After dinner, around eight that night, I start getting really antsy.
I haven’t heard from Ethan all day. I know he’s a busy man and probably works late, but still, I thought maybe I’d see him more. He hasn’t even touched me yet, although it hasn’t been a full day. Maybe he’s just easing himself into it, working up to it. Maybe he just likes a little suspense.
I don’t feel suspenseful. I just feel bored.
Eventually, midnight rolls around, and I’m exhausted. I turn off the television and toss my book aside before changing into pajamas and climbing into bed.
I stare up at the ceiling, disappointed. I thought that being an escort was going to be more exciting than this. So far, it’s more like a boring vacation. I want to make Ethan happy, not just sit around in this room alone and read books.
Then again, this is what he told me to do. He wants me to stay in this room and only leave with his permission. If that makes him happy, knowing that I’m safe in here, well, then I guess it’s what I have to do.
Still, I’m disappointed. I want to see him again. Maybe that’s silly, but I want to see his cocky smile and his handsome face. I want to see the muscles under his perfectly fitting suit. I want him to take me, let me please him in the way that I know I’m supposed to.
Instead, I’m stuck in here. His little pet. I frown at the nickname.
I don’t really like it, but I don’t really hate it, either. It just makes me feel strange. My heart beats fast and part of me likes the idea of being a pretty thing sitting in a cage for him, though the other part of me doesn’t want to be kept.
As I start to drift off to sleep, the phone starts to ring. It’s sudden and it pulls me from sleep with a start. I crawl over to the side and pull it off the receiver on the third ring.
“Hello?” I answer, glancing at the clock. It’s around one in the morning.
“Hello, pet,” he says.
I smile despite myself. “I was wondering if I’d hear from you.”
“I’m sorry I haven’t visited you today.”
“That’s okay.”
“How are you liking your stay so far?”
“Good,” I say. “The food is amazing.”
“You can thank Michelle for that, my cook. You’ll meet her soon.”
“I look forward to it.” I hold the receiver between my ear and my shoulder, twirling the cord between my fingers.
“I’m stuck at work, but I’m thinking about you,” he says softly. “What are you wearing right now?”
I smile to myself. “Black bra and matching panties,” I say, which is true. Though I’m also wearing a white t-shirt and soft jogging pants.
“That’s all?” he asks. “I doubt you sleep in just that.”
“Who says I’m sleeping?” I ask, suddenly getting an idea.
“It’s late,” he says.
“I was up thinking of you,” I answer.
He pauses. “What were you thinking?” he asks.
“I was thinking about your hands on my body,” I say. “I’m your pet, but you haven’t even stroked me yet,” I say.
Another pause. “And you want me to stroke you?” he asks.
“Yes,” I whisper. “As soon as you’re home. I’m so bored without you.”
“I’m sure you are.” He pauses again and I can feel my heart hammering in my chest. “I
’ll see you soon, pet. Sleep tight.”
He hangs up suddenly and I’m left staring at the phone, not sure what just happened.
I tried to be sexy for him and he just hangs up on me. Like he wasn’t interested in it at all. I hang the phone up and collapse back into bed, sighing.
Maybe I suck at this. If I can’t figure out what he wants and soon, I’m going to screw it all up, and I can’t afford that.
This is my last attempt. It’s all or nothing for me right now, and I can’t give up. One bad phone call won’t change anything.
I’m going to make this man happy whether he wants me to or not.
7
Ethan
I have to force myself to go to my last meeting, even though it’s one of the most important meetings of the day.
All I want to do is go home to Aria. I haven’t seen her since yesterday morning. I slept in my office again last night and because of some stupid emergency, I couldn’t make it home all day. I called her briefly last night, and again this afternoon, but that was it.
She sounds bored. I have to admit, I figured it might take a little longer for her to get sick of her little vacation. Maybe I’ll have to punish her for letting me know that she’s bored.
Then again, I want her to be herself, so that can’t fly. I’ll punish her still, but it’ll have to be for some other reason.
I smile to myself, imagining how I’ll punish her as I walk into the restaurant. This last meeting is with Richard Taylor, one of the most notorious businessmen in the city. He’s a real estate guy, and I want to buy out one of his buildings to use as my new corporate headquarters once all this merger stuff goes through. But he’s hard to work with and has an awful reputation for being involved with some shady ventures.
I spot Richard sitting in a booth table toward the back. I walk directly toward him. It’s interesting how being a good businessperson very often means you’re a bad regular person. The sort of thing business demands from you usually means you’re a hard person to be around in normal circumstances.
Richard Taylor is no exception to this rule. As I approach, he frowns and checks his watch, almost as if I’m late. I’m not, of course, but he’ll make me feel like I am just because he showed up early.
“Ethan,” he says, standing, and we shake hands.
“Richard. Good to see you.”
“You too. Sit down, have a drink.”
“Nothing for me tonight,” I say, waving off the waitress as she approaches. “I have to get home.”
He laughs at me. “You go home? I feel like I haven’t been home in days.”
“Which is exactly why I’m making it a point to sleep in my own bed tonight,” I say, smiling at him.
He nods and for a second, I wonder if my little theory about businessmen extends to myself.
Am I just as bad as Richard is? I like to think I’m not. My employees respect me, maybe even like me. I’m generous with benefits and raises and I never yell. I pride myself on being a good boss, because I absolutely hate bad bosses.
But I’m still at the top of my game, and my personal life definitely suffers for it. I can see myself in men like Richard, or at least part of myself. Still, I’m not like him, and won’t let myself become like him.
I have my pet at home to help keep me sane.
“Well then, down to business so you can get home,” he says, and I know it’s a backhanded insult.
I choose to ignore it. Instead, I take out a contract we’ve been discussing and we dive back in, talking about the intricacies of the deal.
Richard is a hard negotiator, but I know he needs to sell. He took the recession hard a few years ago, and some of his assets are currently losing him a lot of money. This building happens to be one of those assets. I have the capital and the ability to turn it back into a worthwhile place, but Richard has to meet me in the middle first.
He’s playing hardball, though. He doesn’t want to budge an inch on any of his demands, especially not on price, and every concession I get comes at the cost of two more concessions from my side. It’s infuriating and exhausting to keep arguing about petty details, but that’s what Richard seems to want to do.
We go at it for an hour before I’m finally finished for the night. Richard is on his second martini when I lean back, shaking my head.
“Let’s stop here for the night,” I say to him.
“Are you sure?” he asks, grinning. “I feel like we’re just making progress.”
“We’ll resume tomorrow,” I say, though I want to punch him in the face.
“Sure, fine. Whatever you want,” he says. “Make a meeting with my secretary.”
I know that means I probably won’t see him for another week. Richard tosses some bills on the table, clearly overpaying for his drinks but doing it to show off. I don’t really understand that, since we both know I’m worth more than he is, but it doesn’t matter. We stand and walk toward the exit together.
“You and I, Ethan, we’re warriors,” he says to me as we’re walking out.
“How’s that?” I ask him.
“This business is all a fight. And you have to be a warrior to win it. I think you know that.”
“Maybe,” I say. “But it’s not all cutthroat.”
“It is,” he says seriously. “It’s a war, a constant battle. You have to kill your enemies, Ethan.”
“I don’t like doing business that way.”
“Then you’ll lose.” He grins at me, like he’s making a joke, but I know he isn’t.
We stop at the front door. “Okay, Richard,” I say. “Have a good night. My secretary will be in touch.”
“Good. Enjoy being home,” he says. “I’m back to the office.”
We shake hands and I walk away with a sour taste in my mouth.
On the car ride back home, I just keep thinking about how that bastard is going to keep pushing me. He’s going to keep making backhanded insults and comments until this deal is finished, just because he can. He knows he has something that I want, and he’s going to push me as far as he can.
That’s the kind of man he is. He wants to destroy things. But I’m not like that.
I want to dominate things, but I don’t want to destroy them. That’s how I feel about Aria, my little pet back home.
I want to dominate her. But I don’t want to break her. Some men, like Richard, might use her up and walk the line. But I don’t want that. I’d rather spoil her, make her feel good until she’s putty in my hands, willing to do anything for me.
My heart beats fast in my chest as I finally get home and walk inside. Jenkins takes my jacket and my briefcase. “Have Michelle send up dinner,” I say to him. “And bring me a whisky, please.”
“Of course,” he says, disappearing into the kitchen.
I pause at the foot of the stairs.
Aria is up there, waiting for me. I feel a thrill run through my body. She’s up there and she’ll do anything that I tell her to do. No matter what it is, if it’s not hurting her, she’ll do it. Maybe she’ll do it if it does hurt, just a little bit. Maybe she wants it to hurt.
I can feel my cock already getting hard as I climb the steps. My pet, my Aria, tied up to the bed. I’ll slide my cock down her throat and as I pull it back out, she’ll beg for more.
I have to pause outside of her door, heart beating hard in my chest, calming myself. I can’t go in there with my hard cock trying to break through my pants.
Once I’m calm, I knock twice and then open the door. I step inside and find Aria sitting on one of the large, soft white chairs, reading a book. She looks up at me and smiles.
“Ethan,” she says, and sounds genuinely excited.
“Hello, my pet,” I say, smiling as she tries to hide the fact that she doesn’t like that nickname. “I’m sorry I haven’t been able to see you until now.”
“That’s okay. I’m keeping myself company.”
I smile at that. “What are you reading?”
“This?” s
he shrugs. “Nothing. Trash.”
I walk over to her and sit down in the chair next to hers. She shows me the cover and I laugh. It’s some trashy romance with a muscular shirtless hunk on the cover by a woman named Willow Winters.
“What’s it about?” I ask.
“You know, the usual. Boy meets girl. Boy fucks girl until she can’t stand it.” Aria shrugs.
I can’t help but laugh. “Sounds like great literature.”
“It won’t win the Nobel Prize, but it’s good anyway.”
“Did Jenkins bring that?”
“He did, actually.”
“I didn’t know we had that stuff in the house.”
“Apparently someone here loves their dirty stories.”
“Do you like dirty stories?” I ask her.
She blushes slightly. “I guess so.”
“What do you like about them?”
“I don’t know,” she says, looking away. I can tell that she’s embarrassed and I love it.
“Tell me,” I say. “What do you like about them?”
She pauses for a second, searching for the words. “They’re fantasy,” she says finally. “Bad things happen and people don’t communicate, but the drama makes it really hot, and the endings are always happy.”
I watch her for a second, smiling at that. It’s interesting that she specifically mentioned the happy endings as something she likes. Maybe she’s looking for her own happily ever after, but doesn’t even realize it yet.
There’s a knock at the door suddenly. I stand and walk over. Jenkins is standing out in the hall with a cart and my whisky. “Thank you,” I say to him. He nods and heads back to the stairs.
I take the glass then wheel the cart into the room, shutting the door behind me. As I take a sip and park the cart near the table, Aria stands up and steps toward me.
“Wait,” I say, looking at her. “What are you wearing?”
“This?” She looks down at herself. “It’s just a dress.”
I hadn’t noticed it before, when she was sitting. It’s a black dress that hugs every inch of her body with a cutout right around her breasts, showing just the right amount of cleavage. It’s a gorgeous dress and suits her figure perfectly, but it’s all wrong.