Disciplined

by Lenore Ashwood

  “What do you need from me?” he asked. She never called for idle chitchat.

  “I want you in sole charge of Saigo’s security. Don’t assign it to Jones. I want nothing to interfere in my plans, and the tighter the circle we have on things, the better.”

  “All right,” he agreed. It went against his plans to further detach from the day-to-day, but at least this way he’d be able to monitor whatever Yuki’s plan became.

  He had a soft spot for Anya. At least he’d be in a position to make sure she got what she came here for—money for school—and not get into trouble.

  “Do you want to keep her at the condo?” he asked.

  “Is there any reason to move her?”

  He thought about the leaking security panel and made a mental note to follow up on his ticket.

  “No. I personally checked the place the day she moved, and it looks good.” He couldn’t help but remember how good Anya looked on the bed as well and barely held back a groan.

  “Then keep her there for now. Have a good night,” Yuki said and disconnected just as he approached the security box by the gate of the palace property.

  He scanned his wristband and grabbed the keys to the Porsche.

  * * *

  Dimi clicked the button in his pocket to open the garage door at his small house. The Porsche purred into it, and he closed the door behind him.

  He tossed his keys onto the small table in the hall that led from the garage.

  His house was different from everything Cavendish in every way, which was a conscious decision when he’d bought it.

  A two-bedroom rancher in a quiet middle-class neighborhood twenty minutes from the estate, it was sparsely furnished and bland inside and out.

  It had a small back yard he never used and an enclosed garage that hid whatever fancy vehicle he opted to drive home. Like the black Porsche.

  But it was paid off and would eventually become a rental property when he moved to New York.

  He tapped the keyboard of his computer and opened the video streaming service he liked. Nothing but horror movies, his favorite time killer.

  He stripped out of his clothes, padding to the small laundry room behind a bi-fold door and tossing them into the hamper. He grabbed a pair of shorts from the dryer and pulled them on.

  He filled a glass with water from the sink and returned to his computer, sitting on the only chair he owned. He clicked through the slasher movies and the demon movies, not seeing anything that appealed to him.

  After a few more attempts, he typed over the URL and logged into the Cavendish portal, using the backdoor he set up to quickly access the root directory of their intranet.

  He followed the path of the cameras until he found Anya’s condo’s IP addresses. Scrolling through the locations, he opened and closed each feed until he found her.

  There were two cameras in her bedroom, one facing the bed and window, and the other one opposite, facing the bed and the doorway.

  The second one offered a perfect view of her. She faced the camera, eyes closed and both hands tucked flat under her cheek. The cameras were high enough resolution to see her clearly, albeit in black and white. Her breathing barely moved the covers, which didn’t quite cover her shoulder.

  He leaned into the screen, resting his chin on his hand. Her body lay curled into a small ball near the pillow. Her phone and watch lay neatly aligned on the bedside table.

  A look around the room didn’t show any other personal belongings. Nothing lay on the floor or hung on a chair, but he could see part of the white dress hanging in the closet on the other side of the screen, her shoes lined up underneath.

  He clicked on the browser’s address bar and navigated to a new directory. He had to do some fancy tracking, but he finally found it. The photo Yuki had referred to.

  Anya was in full flight, her body a delicate smudge of white against dark surroundings.

  She may’ve been tiny, but she was all legs. Her back foot barely touched the ground as the front reached forward. Her hair streamed behind her in golden curls, as did the white gauze and feathers of her train. Her small breasts rounded at her neckline, thrust up as her body was about to move down in her run.

  The colorfully costumed people around her were more blurred, as if the camera had tracked her to get the shot. She was beautiful.

  He reached for his phone and took a photo of his computer screen then backed out of the portal and shut down his computer.

  He looked at the photo on his phone as he got up and went into the small kitchen, putting his water glass in the sink.

  Walking to the bathroom, he turned on the shower, letting the water get hot enough to steam up the small room. He stripped off his shorts and climbed in, soaping and rinsing.

  He closed his eyes, picturing her sleeping, and imagined seeing himself walk quietly into her room, lifting the blanket and sliding into bed behind her.

  Instead of a white T-shirt, her shoulder would be bare, the perfect place to start kissing and licking her awake.

  As he stood with the shower streaming over his back, he envisioned pulling her naked ass against his cock. Saw her press her ass into him, looking back with knowing eyes.

  His body responded, his cock hard and pointing. He soaped his hand and encircled it, squeezing near the base and sliding his hand to the tip. In his fantasy, her small hand reached behind to grip him, and he loosened a finger to mimic the picture in his mind.

  He saw her moving his hand to her tits, angling herself against him so he could slide into her heat from behind.

  His cock was steel in his hand and he stroked faster, sliding a finger over the pre-cum tip. As he imagined her pink tongue licking his tip, he spasmed, his orgasm wrenching a groan from deep in his belly.

  He slowed his hand, letting his dick twitch to stillness. Then he turned and rinsed off, spraying the whole tub clean.

  When he climbed into bed, it was close to 9:00 a.m. It was Sunday. He’d let her rest then see how long he could keep himself away. It would be a good test of his endurance. Of course, he could always take another shower if he needed to.

  17

  Anya stretched, her legs forking out and pushing the covers down. She’d dreamt of the masquerade ball, except the doe and the stag and the red fox had each been Dimi, chasing her down.

  She sat up and checked her phone. Eleven! Then she noticed a text message.

  Seattle Trust: Your $10,000 deposit was over the $50 alert limit for your account.

  She covered her mouth but couldn’t hold in the squeal. Then she threw herself back on the bed, flinging her arms wide.

  “Shit,” she said to the ceiling. “Holy. Fucking. Shit.”

  She needed to celebrate. She bolted up and texted Jenn. She’d take her friend out for brunch. Someplace not too fancy, so she didn’t ask questions, but the kind of place that had mimosas.

  I’m taking you to brunch. How about Palmer’s? she texted, mentally planning the buses she’d need to take.

  “Hell, I can Uber there now,” she said, her mind spinning.

  Late night. Text in an hour, Jenn replied.

  She dug her most brunch-style clothes out of her suitcase, which consisted of a yellow secondhand sundress and sweater, and hopped in the shower for a quick wash.

  She should probably unpack, but none of this still seemed real. As if she could be asked to leave at any time.

  She dressed and braided her hair, padding into the kitchen and deciding on a glass of orange juice. A knock on her door made her spin around, her heart pounding.

  Dimi, she thought, and a thrill ran over her back.

  “Anya?” called a voice she recognized. Liz.

  “Hey,” Anya greeted as she opened the door.

  “Hi. Sorry, I should say Saigo.”

  “My coach said we could use our regular names here, so Anya is fine. Do you want some orange juice?” she asked, holding up her glass.

  “Sure.”

  Anya walked back to the kitche
n to pour her a glass, remembering what she said last night.

  “Did you say you got into trouble?” she asked, sitting on a stool at the island. Liz sat beside her.

  “Oh, man, I texted some pics of my costume and condo to my friends back in California.”

  “Shit, Liz.”

  “I know, I know, it was stupid. Especially now that my payment just hit my bank.”

  Anya covered her mouth but couldn’t fully suppress the giggle. Liz did the same, and they both ended up squealing out loud.

  “Right?” she gasped. She still couldn’t believe it.

  “We should hit the town and do some shopping. Or get drunk, or get high, or both.” Liz downed her orange juice and slid off the stool. “Come and hang with me. I don’t like hanging around this place all day.”

  “I’m supposed to meet my friend for brunch in an hour,” she replied and watched Liz’s smile fade. “Do you… want to come along?” She had misgivings about asking her, but part of her wanted to celebrate too.

  “Is that okay?” Liz asked.

  “Can you zip it about Cavendish? I need the money, and I can’t afford to screw up.”

  “I can, promise.”

  “That means no hints about what you got paid, no stories about last night—”

  “Last night was fucking amazing, right?” Liz breathed, slapping her hands on her cheeks.

  “Liz, this is what I mean. You can’t say anything.”

  “Okay, let’s talk about it now and get it out of my system. Tell me what your story was.”

  Anya told her and then took her to her bedroom when she begged to try on her shoes.

  “You definitely got the awesome part. I was supposed to follow the stag all night until they had sex and then find a gray wolf and make out with him while a lady wolf watched. It was pretty hot, but my outfit was no way as sexy as yours was.”

  There was a knock on her door, and they went into the living room to see Elliot outside.

  “You guys, last night was fucking unbelievable. I’m glad we all live next door, because if I don’t debrief with someone, I’ll start to think I’ve fallen into the twilight zone.”

  They exchanged stories, finding out that Elliot was supposed to give the jester a blowjob by the string quartet at midnight.

  “But before that happened, a guy grabs me and a Marie Antoinette woman, and we go to the stables for a three-way,” he said, his voice part amazed and part in disbelief.

  “Talk about doing things that could get you kicked out,” Liz said.

  “I would have said it was worth it until I saw my paycheck drop in my bank. The easiest money I’ve ever made.” He yelled the last word. “I’m sticking to the script from now on. No way I’m jeopardizing this gig.”

  Elliot’s costume was a silver cat, and up until the blowjob, he was supposed to prowl both rooms and rub against anyone wearing green or blue.

  “Anyway, I found out something,” he said, turning to rummage through her fridge and taking out an iced tea. “I’m not an orange juice fan. Do you mind?” He snapped open the lid before she could respond.

  “What did you find out?” Liz asked.

  “We’re going to be evaluated. For sex.”

  “What?” Anya asked. “How?”

  “Duh, by clients at Cavendish having sex with us.”

  “How do you know this?” Liz asked, looking at him skeptically. “I mean, why wouldn’t last night be the test?”

  “Well, it was for me. The jester guy told me he was my evaluator and that I passed with flying colors.”

  “Because you gave him head?” Anya asked.

  “Because I gave him great head, I’ll have you know. The evaluation is for how we perform when it’s for money. Apparently, some people freeze, or throw up, or are so bad they’re no good for Cavendish.”

  Anya looked at Liz, who returned her look.

  “Maybe you were evaluated too,” Elliot wondered aloud, looking at them. “The jester said not to tell anyone what he said, so I’m guessing it’s supposed to be an anonymous thing.”

  “I only made out with a guy, so I doubt that was my evaluation. Fuck,” she said, frowning at Elliot. “Now I’m going to be totally on edge. And therefore probably shitty. Thanks.”

  “You’ll be fine,” Anya told Liz. “I don’t think being groped qualifies as being evaluated either. And that’s all I did.”

  “Come with us to brunch,” Liz invited Elliot, and Anya gave her a look. “Oh sorry. I invited myself along for brunch with Anya and her friend, so I guess she should be the one to invite you.”

  “Thanks, but no can do,” Elliot said. “I’m going shopping at Nordstrom and then making new friends at the bar where I will get shitfaced and poured into a cab at the end of the night.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Anya said. “And I’m not even sure I trust Liz to keep quiet about all of this yet.”

  “Yeah, I wouldn’t trust her,” Elliot agreed, making a face when Liz slapped his arm. “Hey! Who’s the one that blabbed to her friends with text pics?” He raised his eyebrows at her. “I took pictures, but I didn’t do anything with them.”

  “I can be better,” Liz moaned. “I promise.”

  “I wouldn’t take her if I were you,” Elliot warned, swiveling his head at her and mouthing No way.

  “Fine. Then I’ll come with you on your drunken bar crawl.”

  “No!” he said, getting up and walking to the front door.

  “Yes!” Liz followed him.

  “I said no. Bye,” Elliot said with a smile then went back to arguing with Liz who waved at her and followed him out.

  Anya breathed out in relief just as her phone buzzed.

  Palmer’s is good. See you there.

  * * *

  The restaurant was packed. In the center of the University District, Palmer’s barely held fifty patroms, and the sidewalk overflowed with all the people outside waiting for a table.

  “Anya! Over here!” Jenn called, waving from the doorway. She pushed her way through the crowd to where Jenn had nabbed two stools at the bar.

  “I took what I could get; otherwise, we’d be eating to-go on the curb,” Jenn said then turned and squealed. “I haven’t seen you for a week! What is going on with you?” Jenn pulled her into a hug, rocking her back and forth. Then she plopped down on her stool and looked around for the server. “I popped by your place, but Steve said you moved out,” Jenn added without waiting for her to answer.

  “Yeah,” she breathed, taking off her small backpack purse and setting it on the narrow table. She wasn’t sure what to say, but Jenn kept talking, so she let her go.

  “Steve said guys just showed up and packed up all your shit in boxes and left. I texted Trevor, but he told me not to contact him again. Let me show you.” Jenn pulled her phone out of her pocket and started scrolling.

  “What can I get you?” asked the server, and Anya ordered a mimosa and the one thing she’d always wanted but could never afford. The Franz bagel with goat cheese, brie, and pear chutney.

  “Get whatever you want,” she told Jenn, holding the menu card and giving it a little shake. “We’re celebrating.”

  “Cool. I’ll have the same,” she said. The server nodded and left, and Jenn held her phone out.

  I don’t know where A is, but don’t text me again. Ever, said Trevor’s text.

  “What’s up with him? Wait, did you say we’re celebrating?” Jenn asked, her eyes widening.

  “I got a job. Better than the pharmacy, although I’m sorry I’m not working there with you,” Anya answered, briefly pouting her lip but unable to maintain it as she smiled.

  “A new place, a new job. What the fuck, Anya? Why am I only finding this all out now?” Jenn complained.

  “It all happened fast,” she said, sipping from Jenn’s almost-finished mimosa. She’d put the story together on her ride over, and she prayed Jenn bought it. “I was on campus and answered a house sitting ad. Not only do I have no rent to pay, but th
e owners stocked it with food and pay me weekly.”

  “You suck. You have the best luck. It’s the worst working at the pharmacy,” Jenn grumbled, and Anya breathed easier.

  “You’re going to be a pharmacist, so you’d better figure out a way to like it.” Anya laughed.

  “You look different,” Jenn mused, leaning back when the server delivered their mimosas.

  “How?” she asked, looking down at herself and then wondering if the dream team—who’d still been at the condo when she got back—had done a good enough job taking all her makeup off.

  “Maybe less stressed. Happier.”

  “I’m very relieved not to be living in that basement. And I’m stoked that not paying rent and getting paid to house sit means I don’t need two jobs. Two shitty jobs, no offense.”

  Jenn stared, her eyes moving over her face, hair, and down her body to her feet.

  “Maybe” was all she said.

  “What about you? What’s new?” Anya asked.

  “Well, when you dropped off the earth, I started hanging out with Steve here and there,” she said, glancing away and sliding her glass in little circles.

  “Steve who?” Anya asked, not remembering any Steve from their classes.

  “You know… Grease Steve.”

  “Grease Steve? Oh!” she exclaimed, the image of their third Pink Lady in face cream popping into her head. Never in a million years would she put those two together. “You’re hanging out with him? Why?”

  “He’s funny. And he treats me like a queen, but not in a weird way.”

  “What would be a weird way, exactly?”

  “Like a princess. He respects me. He drives me home because he wants me to be safe. Stuff like that.”

  “Steve has a car?”

  “Well, he calls a ride share and we go together. Then he takes it back.”

  “Wow,” Anya said, nodding. “That’s actually something. Good for you. I feel bad I wrote Steve off as a pot-head slacker.”

  “Well,” Jenn said, laughing and sipping her mimosa. “He’s still that.”

  Their meals arrived, and they chatted about the weather staying cool, her med school registration date, and the cast of characters Jenn had to suffer at her new job. She was interrupted by a strange sound Anya’s phone made.