"Where will you go?"
"I don't know,” he said. “Somewhere away from here."
"A fresh start, eh? That's probably good. Just stay away from loose women.” He tried to make a joke, but it made Jack instantly angry. He covered it well.
"Yeah. Well, gotta go.” He left the office and walked to his car. He could've found Ellen—after all, she had been on his payroll, so he knew her Social Security number. Any private eye could've found her. But he had held off. She could've called him at any time. Clearly, she doesn't want to be found. He ought to be content to leave it alone.
He drove home. The house was up for sale and most of his furniture had already been sold or put into storage. He kept a bed, a couch, a television and a stereo. There was nothing to hold him here, yet he wasn't sure where he wanted to go.
When he pulled into the driveway, he was surprised to see a man standing on his porch. He got out warily, thinking it was a creditor or a salesman.
"Can I help you?” he asked, a bit sharply.
"Are you Jack Sawyer?"
His heart sank. A process server, he imagined. “Yes, yes I am."
The man approached with an envelope. “This is for you. Would you sign here?"
Jack looked at the envelope, but it had no return address. He signed hurriedly, his curiosity burning. The man thanked him and left. Jack stood on the porch, the letter heavy in his hands. He waited until the man drove away, then, with hands shaking, opened it.
Dear Jack,
I know I should've written before now. I always meant to, but something stopped me. I thought perhaps it would be best if I just disappeared and let you live your life. I would find somebody else and life would go on as it should. But I've kept in touch with my attorney, Betty Montrose, and she informed me that you were selling the business and leaving town yourself. She also said you have remained single. I felt I had to write and tell you what's going on in my life.
I needed this two years, Jack. I needed to figure out who I was and what I wanted. I went about as far away as I could, even began using my middle name and tried to start again. As Maria Sanchez, I'm anonymous, which is just the way I wanted it. No one here knows my past. I'm working part-time and being very frugal with the money I “earned” from you.
But it's not working for me. Something is missing. Believe it or not, I miss you. I miss what we had, even though by all rights I shouldn't. I guess it's true what Dr. Butler said—that I can't escape who I am. If you read this and feel the same loss I do, then come visit me, once you sell your business. If you'd rather put the past behind you, then just tear up this letter and forget you received it.
Yours,
Ellen Maria Sanchez
Jack stared at the address printed at the bottom. She was more than a thousand miles away, but it didn't matter. His entire world shifted from despair and depression to elation. Now his life had direction. He couldn't predict what would happen, but at least he had a direction.
He started packing that night.
Jack stopped by the realtor's office two days later and told his agent the house was completely empty now; everything was in storage. He gave him a cellphone number where he could be reached and said he'd write when he had a more permanent address.
He hit the road going south and drove non-stop for the next few hours. When he grew tired, he stopped at a motel and went to sleep in minutes. The next morning, he was at it again.
It took him three days to reach her. He arrived in the late afternoon, squinting through the windshield at the house numbers. Ellen—now Maria—lived in a modest rented house in a working class neighborhood. She had been frugal, he mused, as he pulled into her driveway.
Nervously, he rang the bell. He heard footsteps and for a moment he had a sudden urge to flee. He didn't know what to expect. Would she be as distant as she had been during their last meeting? Would she be glad to see him? Would she throw herself into his arms?
The door opened. Maria stood there, smiling, wearing a light blue top and shorts. There was a glow about her, as if she had just come back from a jog. Jack tried not to stare. She had cut her hair, but otherwise looked very much as she had two years ago.
"Hello, Jack. I wondered if I would see you.” She stepped back and allowed him to enter. She seemed tentative and Jack felt just as awkward. He followed her inside and they stood in the living room, more like strangers than old lovers.
Jack broke the ice first by being honest. “I'm glad you finally wrote to me. I'd just about given up hope. I figured you'd want to be left alone."
Ellen smiled and some of the warmth flowed back into the room. “I did, for many months. I tried to deny everything. Pretend it didn't happen. It helped to change my name, my hairstyle and my profession."
"You look great. I like your hair."
"Thanks.” She seemed embarrassed at the compliment. “Can I get you a drink?"
He nodded and she went into the kitchen to fix them. He followed her and was pleased to see her making martinis—she had remembered his drink. She handed him one and he took a sip. The gin was cold and soothed his throat.
They moved back into the living room and sat on a couch, separated by a few awkward inches. He tried to make conversation. “What are you doing now? For work?"
"Oh, I'm a hairdresser.” She laughed when she saw Jack's expression. “I know, I should be doing more. But I only work three days a week, four hours a shift and it's relaxing. Just cut hair and gossip with the ladies. I don't have to think much."
Jack wanted to hold her, kiss her, but he held off. She was so damn cute now, with her new haircut and bright attitude. She had come a long way since she had blindly obeyed him. And yet, there was something there. He could feel his cock stir in his pants.
"Can I take you out to dinner?” he asked suddenly.
She smiled. “Sure. I'd like that."
He waited while she showered and changed. She came back wearing a simple cotton print dress that zipped up the back and came down to her ankles. It gave no hint of the treasures within. Yet all Jack had to do was close his eyes and he could see her naked body again.
They went to a Mexican restaurant that Maria recommended. Jack had some trouble thinking of her as Maria. She seemed different, to be sure, but there was a lot of Ellen in her.
After the waiter had taken their orders, Jack boldly put his hand over hers. “I've been hoping you would contact me."
"I debated it. At first, it just seemed like a really bad idea, but as time went on, I felt we had some unfinished business between us."
"I've felt the same way, Ellen—I mean, Maria."
She smiled at the gaffe. “Yeah, but for the life of me, I can't think of what that should be."
Jack laughed. “Me, either. I just feel drawn to you."
"Oh, maybe you're just drawn to the so-called perfect woman I was to you—you know, all tits and cunt, no brain. Ready to spread my legs for you at any time."
Her harsh words shocked him, and excited him at the same time. “Yeah, right.” He shook his head. “I guess it's true-all men are pigs."
"Yeah. But we women keep putting up with you guys.” She spoke the truth, he knew, but there was a lilt to her voice.
"Maybe it's our rugged charm."
"Yeah. That must be it.” She smiled again, lighting up the room.
The waiter came with the hot plates and for a few minutes, they ate, almost grateful for the silence. Jack worried he might say something stupid, something that would ruin everything. He tried to figure out what lay ahead and he couldn't. His id wanted El back, just like she once was. His ego knew better—she was different now, more self-assured. And yet he couldn't quite let go of the past. God, listen to me, he thought. I'm a shallow, self-absorbed, sexist pig, just as she thinks I am. Just by thinking like this, I'm ruining everything.
"What did you expect, from writing me?” He blurted, then wondered if he had been too bold.
She put down her fork and studied him, chewing nerv
ously on her lower lip. Jack again resisted the urge to kiss it. “I don't have any expectations, if that's what you're worried about."
"I'm not worried.” Suddenly, he grew tired of the banter. He decided to lay his cards on the table. “All right. Here it is: I think I want to be around you. At least for a while. Would that be all right with you?"
"You want to stay here? In town?"
"I want more than that. I want to stay with you. Or have you stay with me.” He shook his head, knowing immediately it was the wrong thing to say.
"No, it's too early for that.” She took another bite and swallowed carefully. “Let's take it slow, okay? I am flattered that you'd like to stick around. I thought maybe we'd just have a visit, then you'd be on your way."
"I'm at loose ends. I sold the business, you know."
"That went through? Moose said you'd been working on it. Is that what you really wanted?"
"Yes. It wasn't fun any more.” He drank a sip of beer, thinking how it wasn't fun because she had no longer been there. “Besides, if I decide I want to be a big businessman again, I can always start another company."
She laughed and Jack remembered how he had liked that sound. “I'm sure this town could use an entrepreneur."
"Well, that's later. For now, I just plan to live the life of ease."
"Good for you. You deserve a break."
They finished their meal and Jack drove her back home. She opened the door and started to get out. He reached out and lightly clasped her forearm. “Is it too soon for me to come in?"
She hesitated. Then she said, “Just for a drink, okay?"
He nodded and got out. He cock was hard in his pants and he jerked at the belt to try to make it more comfortable. He thought of all the times he could've made love to her and had not and wondered why he hadn't taken advantage of her more often. Was it because he didn't like the idea of sloppy seconds?
They went inside and Maria bustled about, turning on lights. She put on the radio, playing some soft jazz. “Martini?” He nodded. He wanted to grab her, crush her in his arms, kiss those pouty lips, run his hands through her tousled hair. His erection became almost painful and he turned away, rather than see him.
But she did see him. She paused by the makeshift bar and carefully placed her glass on the counter. She came to him, her hand low. It touched his cock through his pants. He tried to turn away again, but she held him with her free hand on his upper arm. He allowed her to rub it, remembering all those times when she would touch him, suck him, be naked for him.
He groaned softly, under his breath. Her hand went to the zipper and eased it down. His cock sprang out from his boxer shorts and into the soft palm of her hand. Her light, warm fingers enveloped the hardened shaft.
"It's just like I remembered it,” she cooed.
"I thought you were just going to give me a drink and send me away."
"I meant to. I thought that's what I should do. But now, touching you, I'm thinking I was wrong.” She caught his eye. “You feel it too."
"Yes.” He wondered if she would ever be submissive again, or was that part of her past as well. He ached to relive those experiences, even as he felt shame to wish it so.
He leaned down and kissed her, sharing the spices from the meals they had eaten. She responded hungrily, her mouth open to his. Her hand never left his cock, moving up and down, tormenting him.
His hands went to the back of her dress and started to unzip it. He half expected her to say, No, Stop, but she didn't, so he eased her zipper down and allowed the dress to fall from her shoulders.
She wasn't wearing any underwear. Jack knew she had made a statement and he was glad, for he was on the same wavelength. Her breasts were just as he remembered them: proud and copper-colored. He glanced down and noticed the Sawyer logo was missing—she'd had it removed. He was glad—to still have it today would be obscene, not sexy.
He leaned down and hooked one arm behind her knees, then picked her up and carried her toward the bedroom. She giggled and hugged him. He put her carefully on the bed while he undressed.
Naked, he climbed over her. His hard cock danced over her thighs. “Wait,” she said suddenly, putting a hand up against his chest.
He pulled back. “What? A condom?” he said, a little disappointed.
She smiled. “No, I just wanted to see if you'd wait."
He laughed and lay down on top of her. He kissed her and rubbed her nipples. He felt his cock touch between her legs and could feel the wetness there.
"What happened to your jewelry?"
"I didn't feel right, putting it on myself,” she said simply.
He kissed her again and reached down between her legs to touch the core of her. Her slit was sopping wet and her clit a hard nubbin that strained toward his fingers. She groaned when he touched it.
"I think you've missed me,” he said and pressed his cock into her about one inch. She shuddered and widened her legs for him. He teased her, moving his cock in and out in tiny thrusts until she cried out.
"Please!"
"Please, what?"
"Please ... sir,” she said, teasingly and he rewarded her by plunging deep inside her. She gasped aloud and climaxed, holding his body tightly to hers. He gave her a few seconds to come down, then began to stroke. She came again ... and again—it was as if she had been saving up for months, years, even. His strokes increased and Maria climbed that mountain again, her mouth open, her eyes wide. “God,” she whispered, “Oh, fuck me, fuck me."
He obliged and when he felt his seed ready to boil, he thrust hard into her and erupted, shooting his essence deep inside. They clung together like lost souls, loving this moment and each other.
Finally, Jack eased his softened cock out of her and lay beside her on the bed. “Wow,” he said simply.
"Wow, indeed,” she responded, resting her hand on his stomach.
"That was special. Very special."
"Yes, it was. Almost like old times."
He wondered about that “almost.” Was something missing? He decided to change the subject. “I never did get my drink,” he teased.
"You want it now?"
"Actually, yes, I do. But I'll get it,” he said.
"What's this? The master to wait on the slave?"
"Yeah. Call it the new paradigm.” He started to rise, but she grabbed his arm.
"No."
"What?"
"No. Please allow me."
Jack looked down at her, a wry smile on his lips. “It's just a drink. I'm not going to suddenly let you dom me."
"Good. Because you see...” She trailed off and Jack knew better than to break the moment. He waited. “I thought I was over it. You know, the submissiveness. I told you I had gotten it out of my system."
"I remember.” He nodded, encouraging her to continue.
"But it's part of me. I know that now. The thing is, it's only part of me with you. Can you understand that?"
"Yes. That's why you haven't become someone else's girlfriend, right?"
"Right. I've dated. I've even had a few lovers in the last two years. But no doms. It didn't feel right."
"But it feels right with me?"
"Yes. So why is that, do you think?"
He shrugged and sat up. “Because we have some sort of connection, I guess. Something that each of us needed."
She nodded. “That's what I was thinking.” She sat up and placed a hand on his cheek. “We should be angry at each other. We should want to be well rid of each other. Yet here we are, two years later, together again. I tried to go slow tonight, tell myself I didn't want to fuck you, but it was all I could think about."
"Me too. But I was afraid of rushing you, so I tried to be good."
"Oh, honey, you were good."
He laughed and pressed the hand against his cheek. “You weren't so bad yourself."
"So, bottom line—I want to go get you a drink. Don't feel weird about it, okay?"
"I won't. In fact, I think it's wonderfu
l. I missed having you around and not just because you were good for business."
"But you didn't fuck me much, you know. You usually just handed me over to some other guys."
"I know. I was mixed up with anger and desire and the power of my domination over you, I suppose. I think I got as much enjoyment out of fucking you as knowing you had to fuck whomever I said to."
"Right. And you know what? I got just as much out of that as you did. Let's face it, I'm a slut at heart. I liked being at your mercy. Everything was out of my hands. And yet, that power in another man's hands could've been a disaster. In your hands, it just made me want to continue doing it forever."
"Yet you rebounded, after my arrest."
"Yes. There are two warring factions inside my head, the slut and the feminist. When I was with you, the slut loved it and the feminist was shocked by my behavior. Then afterwards, the feminist cheered and the slut slunk away, embarrassed. So I had to resolve it."
"And you have?"
Maria tipped her head. “As best I could, without having you around to talk to about it."
"So that's why you decided to write to me."
"Yes. I had to know. What I really wanted."
"I know it's too soon to tell, but—"
"No, it's not too soon. I knew it the moment you walked in. I just had to see if that's what you wanted."
"Yes, it's what I wanted too. Although I was sure you wouldn't. I mean, how could you, I thought. You were so thoroughly taken advantage of, I felt kind of like a real jerk, you know?"
She nodded. “I know. But from my point of view, I felt like a real low-class woman. A true slut. Among women, that's as low as you can go."
"But you're drawn to it."
"Just as you're drawn to having a slut around."
Jack scooted up so he could lean back against the headboard. “Slave, my darling, go fix me a drink,” he voice was light, teasing. “And be quick about it or there will be punishment."
"Yes, master.” She smiled and stood up, magnificent in her nudity. She started to turn.
"Wait.” She paused, facing him, her breasts thrust out, her hips at a jaunty angle, the soft incurving line of her slit below. “I just want to look at you for a moment."
Office Slave II Page 11