Her anguish was heard by the way she sucked in her breath as if I had punched her in the stomach and I couldn’t believe how fucking bad I felt. But she needed to know that working with me, working here was not part of the equation. I needed to get her to hate me. To see me for the monster I truly was.
She zipped her jeans back up and smoothed her hair back inside the ponytail and worried that fucking lip of hers.
“William. You’re lying right now. I know you are. Say whatever you want. I deserve it for deceiving you, but you and I both know the truth. I know and saw what you felt.” She blinked back tears. “I felt it too.”
I laughed cruelly. “Rose. Call your new boyfriend and have him come pick you up. You’re not working here. We are not going to ever be together again. You might as well start your life, the life that is waiting for you. Goodbye. This is the last time I want to see you.”
I left and prayed that she would get home safely. I waited in my car until Mark showed up, the cock. I was half hoping he wouldn’t show, so she’d be forced to come home with me. She saw me. Our eyes locked and I knew the pain I had caused her. Good, I thought. Now she can get on with it, live the life that she was meant to have, and have a normal boyfriend. If she was going to be with someone other than me, at least he was a good guy, a much better guy than I was. At least I could rest contentedly knowing that fact.
Chapter Five
By the weekend, I had filled Jennifer in on everything that had happened with Rose, she had made a list of candidates for me to sift through and interview, and Mark had been charged with finding a new music teacher. I was finally starting to sleep occasionally, and Olivia and I were slowly finding our way back to each other, though I’ll admit, I wasn’t all that keen to rush back into.
But nightmares plagued me. I found myself often waking up drowning in my own sweat, a cold, silent grip around my throat, strangling the very breath out of me. My father and his death haunted me, his last few weeks stabbed full of morphine, unable to function in any capacity. He was a shriveled-up shell of what was once a man I admired, the morbid vision of him staring down at me with an unforgiving ubiquity night after night and even upon opening my eyes to the full rays of sunlight every morning. Some images, no matter how many years go by, are etched upon our memories as a brutal reminder of our mortality. Life seemed useless in those moments. They seemed useless now.
I took to the bottle more than I should have. I knew this. I knew I needed to be careful about that, my mother and her addictions. I didn’t want to become like her, which always led me back to thinking of what I was going to do.
Anthony wanted me to talk to her, go to her. Her imprisonment was both a good thing and a bad thing for her. She was lucky she hadn’t died during her withdrawals, and fortunately, the prison had programs that helped with that. But she had told the entire story of what happened to try to save herself before she had sobered up. The damage was done. And when she started blabbing, the wrong people heard. Or perhaps the right people had heard, depending on your perspective. Retract as she may have, a story like that in a town like this does not go unnoticed.
I was not the only one who hated the tobacco guys. For every man who loved his tobacco, there was one who didn’t. Most of us had lost someone to cigarettes in some way or another. And the list of people building cases against them was far and long. With each case and each passing year, it was making a difference. To ban cigarettes altogether before I died would make me a very happy man.
And a story like mine would showcase even further the depths of their depravity and greed. Paying off a family to keep their mouth shut, hiding the truth to save their hide. And so, if whomever was behind nailing the tobacco royalty could get me to talk, admit that what my mother had told them was true, even though she retracted it after her high dissipated, they could build more of their case.
But I am not just some schlep off the street. I’m not just going to cave and waltz into a police station and admit my guilt. I have power and connections of my own.
Enter sweet, innocent Rose. All alone. No family. Poor. And searching for closure, maybe even revenge, for the loss of her father figure, her grandfather, her one and only family member. They get my confession to build more of their case against the tobacco guys; she gets closure and rich.
Fuck it if they destroy lives in the process. A few years in prison for me, a monster? Put a useless heroin addict behind bars for life or worse? Who cares? Because Anthony assured me, the only thing my mother’s plea bargain might do for her was keep her from being lethally injected on death row. And we would deserve it, quite frankly. We killed a man for fuck’s sake, accidental or not, and we covered it up. And I could have prevented it. I had to own that part myself. We deserved to pay for it. I deserved what was coming to me.
I hoped meeting some of the candidates for my personal assistant would alleviate some of the stress. Perhaps I could put some through the paces even, exhaust myself so that the nightmares might stop, that sleep might come again.
“Hey,” Jennifer appeared from around the corner as I was putting my dishes into the sink. “First appointment is in an hour.” She paused to look at me closely, tilting her head to the side to try to see what I wasn’t sure. “You sure you’re ready for this? You sure you want this?”
Her dark, short hair was a disaster, as if birds had nested in it the entire night, trying to get comfortable, and it made me smile.
“What is that twinkle in those wild green eyes of yours, Mr. Thorne,” she said with a hint of sarcasm. She knew me well. And she probably knew what I was smirking at, as her hands ran the length of her hair from the roots to the short ends.
“I was just thinking. With all this money I make if perhaps I should finally invest in buying you a hairbrush.”
She drew in her breath and then let out a gasp that turned into laughter. She just couldn’t help it. There had been so much tension. And it was a welcome relief to joke a bit. If there was one person in this world I felt comfortable with, who I needn’t put on any show for, it was Jennifer.
“You’re a bastard,” she said with a slight chuckle and slapped the side of my bicep hard enough that it made a sharp smack sound, like a fly swatter makes on a table.
“Easy there, champ.” I rubbed my arm in mock anger and then just lost it, bursting out into laughter. “That really hurt,” I said truthfully, and I flicked the side of her head with my finger.
“Ow,” she complained, rubbing her palm against her head, further mussing it up, which made me laugh even harder.
She smiled and came against me from the behind and wrapped her arms around me to give me a hug, pushing her forehead against the back of my neck. She was the closest thing to a sibling I ever really had, my brother having died too young, taking his last breath almost upon his first.
I turned around to face her and she let go. She looked up at me again. “That’s a nice sound to hear. It really is. Maybe you’re turning a corner.”
“I’m fine, Jenny. You don’t need to worry. I’m just fine.” I ruffled her hair and walked back over to the island to sit down. She followed with a folder. “How many did you narrow it down to?” I asked as she pushed the manila packet towards me and sat down next to me.
“You said three to five so I chose three from phone conversations, resumes, medical checks, and the like. Ironically, a brunette, a redhead, and a blonde. And that was not on purpose. Each of these women are exactly what you are looking for. You know--Beauty, brains, bosom…”
I chuckled again. “Very funny, Dr. Jenn. And are these appointments all back-to-back?”
“Yup…starting in…” She looked at the time over the stove, “less than thirty minutes.”
I opened the folder as she stood. “Good luck, William. But I don’t need to tell you again. I think it’s too soon. And I think you need to forgive Rose. If she were insincere about everything, you’d know by now. She would be long gone. You don’t fake those kinds of feelings, Will. You just don’
t. And I know you know it.”
“Jennifer, I know no such thing. I have no idea who she is, for fuck’s sake. She played a role. I got screwed over, and I’m probably going to pay a heavy price for it. But I’m moving on. I never really cared for her anyway. Just another personal assistant.”
“Uh-huh,” she rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Lie all day to yourself, William. But at some point, you need to accept that you do deserve to find happiness. We all do.”
“Yeah, well. It won’t be with Rose. Happiness is not built on lies. She didn’t love me, Jennifer. She duped me. And I never loved her. No big deal. No loss. And quite frankly, it’s about time I told the police, or whomever, what happened that day.”
She sighed and rubbed her eyes with her thumbs and then tugged the belt of her robe tightly. “Well, I’ll be right there with you when you do tell your story, because I am a part of that story too, that story that you had no choice in, the story that you were forced not to tell when you were a confused kid, the story of your mom, the story of how you were bullied, and the story of how what happened was a complete and tragic accident you had no control over.”
I stood up. I could feel a lump in my throat. Only Jennifer knew how to break down my walls. But in that moment, I needed to put them back up. There was no time. I had interviews to conduct.
Chapter Six
At 11:30, the first woman arrived. I dressed casually in loose faded denim and a white button-down shirt. My hair was still wet when I answered the door. Upon opening it, a beautiful blonde woman shyly tried to look me in the eyes and I felt my cock twitch. She wore a sweet, light blue little sundress that she looked anything but sweet in. Well, I thought. We are off to a good start.
She tugged on a piece of hair, absentmindedly, and her white tennis shoes tapped quietly with her nerves against the wood porch floor beneath her. I noticed all of the signs. She was submissive. And she was probably wet just from the mere thought of what lay ahead of her.
I decided to let her squirm. Why not? It was my prerogative. My interview. The sun was shining and I could keep her on my porch for as long as I liked. I smiled and licked my lips.
“Hmmm,” I began, taunting her slightly. “That is simply not going to do.”
“Sir?” She finally looked up. Her eyes were a steel, slate blue, her lips pink and plump. She had a slight indentation in her lower chin that looked like somewhat of a dimple, and either I was going to come to adore it or I would not get past it. Her hair lay down her back, straight, silky, gorgeous. I imagined her on all fours in front of me as I yanked her hair back while I fucked her hard and mercilessly. Yes, I thought. Good hair for tugging.
I circled her and I could hear her breath hitch, her unease kicking in. I wasn’t usually this forceful on the first meeting, but I had a lot pent up. I didn’t feel like beating around the bush. I tried not to compare her to Rose. It wasn’t hard to do. The comparisons began and ended with the color of their hair. And even that wasn’t all that similar.
“On your knees,” I ordered. “Now.”
“Yes, sir,” she said barely above a whisper and immediately got on her knees. Yes. This felt good. This felt right. This was me.
I breathed a sigh of relief. I stood behind her so she couldn’t see me but only hear me. “Stay there until I tell you to move. Keep your hands behind your head, clasped. Do not disappoint me.”
She simply nodded.
I smiled at my cruelty. I may not have to interview anyone else. So far. So good.
“I’ll be back shortly.”
I went back into the house and retrieved the folder on her. I sat in front of the window to keep an eye of her while reading her background. It was a hot day and I could see a thin veil of perspiration forming above her top lip and in the small, dainty round dip on her neck just above her collarbone. She was pretty. No question. And there was no question, submissive.
I opened the folder and read: Duke University grad, executive secretary to a prestigious law firm, 23 years old, blue eyes, blonde hair (though not natural), 125 lbs., 5’7”, C cups, both parents living out of state, one brother who lived in England, trained by a professional Dom, never pregnant, on the pill, HIV negative, and on and on. On paper, she was perfect. And looking out after her, she looked pretty perfect in the flesh as well.
I closed the folder and walked to the kitchen and pulled out a bottle of white wine. It was almost noon. I had been making her kneel for almost a half hour. Her knees, her arms, they must be aching by now. After putting some ice in a separate glass for her, I poured two glasses of the wine, sniffed in the oaky aroma, exhaled, and made my way back out to the porch. It was the first time I had relaxed since the night I found out about Rose and her deceit.
“Hi.” I placed the glasses down on a table beside her. My fingers had gotten wet with wine from the way I held them and I began to brush them across her lips. “Open,” I said quietly but with a firm command. “Lick.”
She looked up at me with puppy eyes and obliged, opening her mouth to take in four of my fingers.
“Good girl,” I said removing my fingers from her mouth. “Rise. Come. Have some wine with me and let’s talk. You’ve passed Test One. Tell me. How are you feeling?”
I smiled as she rose and saw the marks from the porch’s rough wood. The lines creased her young skin and her knees were a deep rouge. She smoothed down her dress before she spoke. “Nervous. Excited. A bit thirsty,” she admitted.
I smiled and lightly laughed. “The ice will melt and you can drink some wine. Tell me. What makes you nervous?”
She chewed on the inside of her mouth and tapped her fingers against her thighs. “Well, I didn’t expect you to look…well…to look so…you’re extremely attractive,” she finally blurted out. “Tall. Your eyes are so intense. They make me feel exposed, like they can see into me.”
I laughed again. “I think my fingers can see more. Go. Sit in the chair. Take a sip of the wine. And then, unbutton the top of your dress. We are alone here. It is very private. So don’t be nervous about that. The only thing you should be nervous about is not following directions. Presently, I would say you don’t have a thing to be nervous about. But of course, we’ve only just begun.”
She walked over to the table, took a seat, and crossed her legs. She twirled her hair around her pointer finger and took a long sip. I watched her visibly shake as her breath left her lungs. And that also made my cock twitch. Thank god. Life would be normal after Rose.
“No,” I stated when she put her wine glass back down.
She looked up, confusion in her eyes. “Sir…”
“Sssssh. And listen. If you are to become my new employee, you need to be a careful reader. Did you read all the paperwork before coming here today as instructed?”
“Yes,” she said again more tentatively, wondering if she had just botched the interview. She shifted uncomfortably in her chair.
“Then, tell me. What are you doing wrong right now?” I searched for her name in my memory bank and it escaped me. It didn’t matter in that moment anyway. “Tell me.” I looked at her eyes, fear emblazoned in them. I slowly grazed down her body, landing at the apex between her thighs. “Two mistakes. One more and you will have failed the interview.”
I could see panic flood her eyes. “Sir…I’m sorry. I’m…well…I’ll be honest. I didn’t read the whole packet. I skimmed.”
“Well,” I stood up to stand behind her. “First, you were supposed to unbutton your dress.” I slowly undid a couple buttons, exposing her beautiful tits, sharp tan lines outlining them. I pinched her nipples, and she squeaked a bit. I chuckled. “Hands on the table.”
She quivered slightly even in the heat of the day.
“Second. You are not allowed to keep your legs closed at any time without my permission. You will have to get out of the habit of crossing your legs unless I specifically tell you that you can.”
She bowed her head. “I’m sorry.”
I picked up an ice cube
and held it against her mouth and ran it the length of her lips. The ice melted and dripped down her chin and slowly began to drip on her chest and then her breasts. “I’m sure you know where I’m going with this.”
Her little hands balled up into fists on top of the table as I took the ice cube from her lips and began to swirl it around each nipple. Her fists squeezed and opened the closer I got to the erect tips. When I finally touched them with the ice, she jumped slightly, and she instinctively brought her legs together and I tutted her. “Open. Your. Legs. I worry you will not be able to follow directions. Now. Unbutton the rest of your dress.”
She followed the line of her buttons, with shaky hands, undoing them one by one as I watched on, which unnerved her more.
“I see you read enough to know not to wear a bra and panties.” I drew the ice cube down lower, across her belly, into her belly button, and she sucked in her cute little belly to get away from the torture device but to no avail. She breathed rapidly as the ice cube’s melting stream made a path to where she knew it was going. I was feeling rather sadistic.
When the ice cube reached the top of her completely bare pussy, I stopped and laughed. “Here. Open your mouth. You said you were thirsty?”
She looked at me with incredulous eyes as I pushed the small remnants of the ice cube into her mouth. “Suck and swallow.” And she complied.
I sat across from her at the table. “Button up, sweetheart.”
Her fingers shook but I didn’t care. She came unprepared, and then she lied.
“Finish your wine and be on your way. It was nice meeting you.” And I stood to go back into the house.
“Mr. Thorne,” she stuttered. I thought she might cry and I softened just a bit.
“Honey. I’m a busy man. I need someone very sharp. Someone who wants this job. You didn’t do one simple task asked of you and then lied. I don’t give a fuck how submissive or beautiful you are, I look for more. Don’t waste my time.”
THORNE: Rose's Dark Secret: (Book 2) Page 4