by JD Nixon
“Oh, that’s nice. Thank you!”
“What’s your name?”
“Tilly Chalmers.”
She looked around and spotting a man rushing past, waved her hand and called out. “Excuse me. Are you a staff member?”
The man hurried over, all attentiveness. He resembled someone out of a sixties family sitcom with crisply pressed trousers, a perky bowtie, side-parted hair and a blindingly cheerful manner. “Yes, madam. I’m the store manager. How may I help you?”
“I want to commend this young lady for her service. Her name is Tilly Chalmers, remember that. You ought to be proud to have such an excellent member of staff.”
“We’re proud of all our staff, madam, but of course we’re especially pleased to hear of excellent service.” He turned to me, smiling. “Well done, Tilly!”
“Oh, but –” I started.
“Look, she’s talked me into buying six pairs of underwear today! I’d scarcely hoped to go home with one.”
“Let me ring those up for you, madam,” he offered, the epitome of good customer service. And he ushered her to a nearby purchase point to complete the sale.
Smiling to myself at the misunderstanding, I continued browsing. A hand landed on my arm.
“Thank you again so much, dear,” said the elderly lady.
“It was nothing, really,” I replied, embarrassed.
“I hope I see you next time I visit.”
“Oh, but –” It was too late. She was gone with a wave of her hand, happily clutching her bag of underwear.
The manager approached me, smiling. I thought this would be the perfect time to set the record straight and opened my mouth to speak, but he spoke up first.
“I’m trying to place you,” he said with cheery sheepishness. “Don’t tell me! Let me guess. My wife is always scolding me for being completely hopeless with faces and I’ve been trying really hard to remember people.” He concentrated, his brow furrowed and lips pursed, before his face flooded with satisfaction. “Ladies shoes! Right?”
“Um, well, I have been in ladies shoes, but –”
He wasn’t listening. “I knew it! I’m improving.”
He was so pleased with himself that I didn’t have the heart to disappoint him. What did it matter after all? I’d find Daniel and Niq and leave the store as soon as possible. No harm done to anyone.
But the proactive manager – his nametag read ‘Ted’– had other ideas. He whipped out his phone. “Hold still.” He took my photo before I realised what he was doing. “Of course you’ve heard of our new employee incentive program.”
“Um –”
“Managers are encouraged by head office to recognise good work when we find it. And I have found it today!”
“But –”
Ted waggled his finger in front of my face. “Uh-uh. No arguments. It’s important that you quiet achievers are properly acknowledged by the company.” He held up that same finger. “Wait here.”
He trotted over to the purchase counter and fiddled on the computer with his phone. That done, he picked up the receiver on the counter phone and spoke into it. His animated voice rang out around us on the in-store announcement speakers. My heart dropped down into my shoes.
“Excuse me, shoppers. Welcome to the store and thank you for shopping with us today. I’d like to let you know about one of our staff members, Tilly Chalmers. Tilly works in ladies lingerie, so why don’t you drop by, say hello and let her show you why she’s our Employee of the Day. And so you can recognise her, I’ve just uploaded her photo on the video screens located around the store. I’m sure you’ll all join me in congratulating Tilly on this much-deserved recognition of her hard work on behalf of you, our valued customers.”
I twisted my head around until I spotted one of the screens that usually highlighted products on special. A hideously washed-out rabbit-in-the-headlights photo of me beamed up on the screen, larger than life, my eyes wide in stupefaction and mouth gaping open slackly. ‘Employee of the Day’, written in a fancy font, flashed on and off underneath my face.
Oh, dear God, no!
I hoped beyond all hope that Daniel and Niq had grown bored of this store and had already left. But of course that was a vain wish because they strolled over, huge grins on their faces and stood around, silently laughing at me. Unfortunately I was trapped in the middle of a rush of customers, under the proud eye of Ted who’d decided to serve on the counter in the section for the rest of the afternoon in a show of support for new favourite staff member.
How the hell did this happen to me? I wondered in bewilderment as I helped one fussy, stout woman carry her purchases to the counter to be served by Ted.
When Ted suggested not long afterwards that I take an afternoon coffee break, I made a run for it. I collected Daniel and Niq by the hands and walking very quickly, fled the store. It wasn’t easy as customers and other staff clapped me on the shoulder and congratulated me as I hurried by, recognising me from that bloody photo. I nodded and smiled, but didn’t stop, eyes on the exit.
“Don’t forget about drinks after work on Friday, Tilly,” yelled out one woman and I waved at her vaguely, fleeing past her at double speed. I didn’t say a thing until we were safely back in the car, driving out of the carpark, Daniel and Niq collapsed against their seats with laughter.
“Not one word about this to anybody,” I warned.
“It’s too good not to share,” laughed Daniel, not promising anything. “Employee of the Day! And did you see that photo of you? Good God, it was hideous.”
Niq doubled over with giggles.
I yielded and started laughing myself. “Well, what can I say? I’m very good at my job.”
And laughing together, we drove home.
I hid in my flat for the rest of the day, not wanting to know if anyone else had heard about my little misadventure. By the time Daniel and Niq came over to my place that evening, I was putting the final touches on a quick chicken and noodle stir-fry; nothing exciting, but a quick, weekday meal. They enjoyed it, as they seem to love everything I made for them, and I guess that was why I received so much pleasure from cooking for them. It’s always nice to be appreciated. I suppose like, for example, receiving an Employee of the Day award, I thought with a smile.
Afterwards we sat cosily on my lounge, munching popcorn and watching one of the guys’ favourite genres – a horror movie. It was classic horror tonight, featuring two of cinema’s scariest psychos, pitching wits and sharp implements against each other. I spent three-quarters of the movie with my hands over my eyes while they laughed hysterically, finding it more funny than scary. After they left, I lay in the darkness in my bed, eyes wide open, afraid to go to sleep in case the nightmare monster came to get me in my dreams. I hated horror movies, having far too active an imagination for my own good. One day I’d have to refuse to watch any more with them, but I disliked being seen as a wimp even more than I disliked staying awake all night trembling in fear. I knew that I’d never speak up.
Chapter 4
Sleep eluding me, I decided to go to the rooftop for some fresh air. Hopefully it would encourage sleepiness, as well as some perspective on the impossibility of chainsaw wielding maniacs being able to access the fortress-like Warehouse. I quickly fumbled around in the dark for a bikini set, thinking that a dip in the hot tub was probably just what I needed.
Heller had set up the rooftop as a leisure centre, complete with pool table, barbeque, mini-kitchen, hot tub and sun lounges. There was also a small, but productive, herb garden supposedly tended by Victor, whose mysterious presence had taken on legendary status equal to the Loch Ness monster and Yeti combined. Heller always refused to talk about him and I still hadn’t set eyes on him. However I made generous use of the herb garden, being a big fan of fresh herbs in cooking, so gave due credit to Victor for his hard work, whether he existed or not.
I made a beeline straight for the mini-fridge to fetch a glass of wine, knowing it would help me loosen up. As I reache
d for the bottle in the fridge, there was a rustle of water from the hot tub behind me.
“Shit!” I screeched in terror, dropping the wine glass I held, fearing my head was about to be parted from my body with some well-honed hedge-trimming technology. The glass smashed noisily on the concrete floor.
“Matilda, calm down. It’s only me.” I heard Heller’s soothing voice and an enormous splashing noise as he stepped out of the hot tub. “Stay where you are. Are you wearing any shoes?”
“No.”
“Don’t move. I’ve just put some on.”
He turned on a light, hurriedly towelled himself dry and came over to assess the situation. Without a word, he swept me off my feet and deposited me on one of the sun lounges, before quickly cleaning up the detritus of the wine glass. He looked at me, then pulled out another glass, filled it with lovely cold sauvignon blanc. He handed it to me as he sat on the other lounge chair, facing me. He kept the towel wrapped around his hard waist, and I knew then that he had been wearing nothing in the hot tub. Since I’d started working and living at the Warehouse, he was careful about wearing bathers, but there was still always the risk of catching him without clothes, especially late at night. He didn’t have any hang-ups about nudity.
“A bit jumpy tonight, my sweet?”
“I watched a horror movie with Daniel and Niq earlier. I thought you were a psycho!”
He chuckled quietly. “Only sometimes.”
I smiled. “Not your kind of psycho. The indiscriminate, woman-murdering kind.”
“You’re safe with me.” I wondered briefly if that was true after what Sid had said.
“I haven’t been able to sleep all night after watching it.”
“Come and sleep with me then,” he offered, his blue eyes piercing through the gloom of the dim lighting. “It’s been a while.”
“It has.”
“Far too long.”
“Yes.”
I sculled my glass of wine immediately. A sensible woman’s not going to turn down an invitation like that, no matter whatever Sid had said earlier.
He stood up and held out his hands to me. I took them and he hauled me up forcefully, straight into his arms and he wrapped them around me. He was very tall, but so was I, and my face rested nicely against his neck. He squeezed me tightly, then holding my hand, led me down to his flat and into his king-sized bed.
As I’ve said before, it wasn’t the first time I’d spent the night with him in his bed, and I slipped under the covers with no embarrassment or unwillingness. Unlike some men in the world, I could categorically count on Heller to stop if I said no to anything, which gave me the confidence to stay with him. That and the fact that I was still scared from the movie. I really hated horror movies. I’d have no problem sleeping with him holding me though.
He slipped in next to me after taking a quick shower. We lay on our sides and stared at each other in the strong moonlight streaming in from the window.
“How’s it going with the boyfriend?” He disliked Will intensely, but he would have felt the same about anybody I slept with. And I guess Sid was right – Heller was possessive like that.
“The usual. We never spend enough time together. He complained we only have enough time for sex and nothing else.” I’d always tried to be honest with Heller about everything, except perhaps my own feelings for him.
“That’s a problem?” he asked, the amusement evident in his voice.
“That’s what I said! But I didn’t mean it. Of course it’s a problem. A relationship has to be based on more than just sex.” I looked at him in the half-dark. “Right, I forgot who I was talking to there for a minute.” He laughed softly. I sighed. “He’s not the only one either. Daniel and Niq said that I never spend enough time with them. And my parents say the same. And Dixie. There’s not enough time in the world for me to nurture all my important relationships.”
“I don’t see you enough either.”
I groaned. “Oh, Heller! Not you too.”
“I’m afraid so, my sweet.”
I had a cheeky thought. “You could pay me to do nothing. Then I could be available all day for everyone.”
He lay on his back, looking up at the ceiling, his fingers laced together behind his head. “Interesting proposition, Matilda. You’re saying that you want to be my kept woman?”
“I guess,” I laughed. Frankly, the concept was terrifying.
“I would expect a lot in return for supporting such a decadently lazy lifestyle. Quite a lot actually,” he drawled sexily, and leaned on his side again, rubbing his index finger across my lips.
I playfully and gently bit his finger, holding it between my teeth. He tried to pull it out, and I clamped down harder. He sat up and moved over to sit on my legs, his finger still caught in my teeth.
“You are being a very naughty girl tonight, Matilda,” he said in a dangerously sensuous voice. I grinned at him while still holding his finger securely in my teeth. I was playing with fire, but I didn’t care. “I’m going to have to teach you how wrong it is to bite people. And do you know the best way of doing that?” He leaned down so close to my face that I could feel his breath. I shook my head, making his hand shake also, a thrill running through my body. “I am going to have to bite you in return, very hard, to show you how much it hurts. Does that sound fair?”
I shook my head frantically in denial. His smile was particularly evil and expectant.
“But first I have to get you to release my finger.”
He used his spare hand to tickle me on the side of my waist, a very tender spot for me. I resisted as long as I could, but it was no use. I had to open my mouth to beg him to stop, not being able to take another moment of the tickling. Once I released his finger, he showed me no mercy, leaning down to push aside my hair.
“Should I bite you right here?” And he rubbed his finger on a spot on my neck where my pulse quickened. He leant down further to kiss me gently in that same spot.
“No!” I screeched. “Please, Heller. Not there! Everyone will see it!”
“Hmm,” he considered. “Matilda doesn’t want me to bite her anywhere public. That leaves a number of very enticing alternatives.”
His hand crept down my neck to my chest, tugging at the bow that held my bikini top together. When its loops slipped apart, he hooked a finger under one half of the flimsy material and slid it aside to expose my left breast. He cupped it gently.
“Should I bite you here?” he asked, leaning down to lick and kiss me on the side of my breast. A shiver of desire ran through me.
“No,” I protested faintly. “Will would go ballistic if he saw a bite there.”
“Not there? What about here?” And his hands slipped underneath me to squeeze and caress my butt. “Lovely, juicy biting ground for me here.”
“No,” I insisted, my breathing becoming a little uneven.
“Hmm,” he pondered again. “Only one good spot left then.”
And he moved down my body, pushing my legs apart, running his hands up my thighs from my knees. He kissed me on my inner right thigh, disturbingly close to my centre. I shook my head, suddenly not able to speak, producing nothing but a muffled sound from deep in my throat. God, he was such a sexy beast!
“Will I bite you here?” he teased, his tongue languorously sliding up my thigh, leaving a trail of tingling flesh in its wake. I groaned involuntarily and clamped my hand over my mouth to stop any more.
I finally found my voice. “No. Please.”
He sat up in pretend puzzlement. “But Matilda, I’ve run out of options. What do you suggest?” And he leaned back on my legs, waiting for my response.
“Don’t. Nowhere. Please don’t bite me.” I didn’t want to beg any more than I had already.
He merely sat on my legs and regarded me implacably.
“Please, Heller.”
Silence.
“Please!”
He heaved a huge melodramatic sigh. He could be such a drama queen sometimes. “Y
ou’re very lucky tonight, my sweet. I just can’t bear to spoil your beautiful skin with an ugly bruise.”
He fell heavily back in the bed next to me, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I really hadn’t known what he planned to do – he was very unpredictable.
But I still wasn’t safe.
He reached over and pulled me close, kissing me hard. I was so aroused that my body responded before my brain kicked into gear. Before long we were exchanging deep tongue kisses, our bodies entwined, hands roaming each other.
“Matilda, when are you going to sleep with me?” he demanded in a hoarse voice, nuzzling my neck with his lips, his long elegant fingers teasing my nipple. His erection pressed urgently on my leg.
He untied the side bow of my bikini bottom and slipped a finger into the material, pulling it down.
I tried to protest, but he kept my mouth occupied with his insistent kisses. And soon I lost the ability to speak at all.
He slid his fingers down the small line of curling hair I saved from my regular bikini waxing (I called it my ‘landing strip’) and headed south. When he touched me there, I jolted with pleasure. His fingers gently stroked and rubbed and pushed up inside me, knowledgeable and experienced. He hit the right spot every time, as if he’d memorised a map of my body. I think he might have even found a few new spots I’d never suspected existed before.
Oh God! It was so good! I wanted to shout about it. I wanted to write a song about it. I wanted to make an announcement on TV about just how good it was. If I died at that very moment, I would have a smile on my face that no amount of death could remove. In fact, I would turn up at the Pearly Gates with a smile so unremorsefully carnal that I’d immediately be banished, for fear of corrupting the heavenly host. I wanted every woman in the world to experience what I was feeling.
But me first.
I arched my hips compliantly, giving him the best angle and access. He took advantage, stroking harder and doubling his rhythm. My eyes rolled so far back in my head with exquisite pleasure that I thought they might even have performed a 360-degree turn.