Under Contract

by Jeffe Kennedy

  Or, failing that, building a decent one for her nieces.

  * * *

  No surprise, the spa was incredible—luxurious, gorgeous. Like stepping through the looking glass into all that was La La Land. Josie had texted asking if they could go to a friend’s house after dance team to work on a project, and so they wouldn’t be home until after seven. That gave Tina time to go for the full package—the ironically named Top Shelf Menu—that Mr. Black had suggested. So said the elegant blonde who’d met her and said she was Tiffany, Tina’s personal concierge for the “experience.” Body polish, wrap, facial, waxing, mani/pedi and hair. Tina made a valiant effort not to wince at the reminder of menus or extortionate prices. She nearly asked if they had a Fixer-Upper Special, but decided Tiffany would not be amused.

  In settling on the specifics, she went ahead and checked the tablet to see what Ryan added. She had a pretty good idea what it would be. Sure enough, a new content message alerted her to a menu addition under Miscellaneous for a Brazilian wax, valued at “Full Cost of Top Shelf Menu + gratuities.”

  Sneaky bastard. Though that verified her suspicions. She had to hand it to his business sense. He’d have figured the salon prices would soften her up enough to tempt her into that deal. Back in the day, when hanging on the beach had formed the bulk of the summer for her and Ara, and sexy swimsuits their uniforms, she’d gotten regular bikini waxes. She’d never gotten the full Monty because, well, nice girls didn’t do that. After a while, self-conscious that she wasn’t as slender as she used to be—something Noah pointed out more than once—she’d stopped wearing swimsuits at all, so waxing went by the wayside.

  Funny that she’d been so hyped this morning that she hadn’t thought about any of that, though Ryan had clearly made a note of it.

  She’d seen enough of the sex menu to know that, as promised, she’d never have to be naked again if she didn’t, as he said, “opt in.” Why he’d treat her just for getting the wax he might never see, she didn’t know. Except...

  I want you to have fun, to do things you think are wicked and discover how much you like them.

  Could that be his motivation? She mulled it over as she relaxed into the treatments. He probably hoped to get to see it—and more, given some of what she’d skimmed in the menu—but all of this had another feel to it. This sense that he was goading her on for some nefarious purpose of his own. Like that thrill he said he got out of pushing her envelope. From getting her to drink wine at lunch to enticing her into a full Brazilian to, well, some of the more startling scenarios on his menu.

  Judging by how easily he’d gotten her to agree to strip, she likely would again.

  She went for it. He wanted to pay for this ridiculously expensive salon visit? Let him. Pulling out the tablet during a rest between treatments, she opened the program and clicked in the box. Choosing her first opt-in. The fact that he’d see it on his tablet gave her an odd and prurient thrill. That he’d know something so intimate about her. And so strangely sexual to know she’d agreed because he asked it of her. I want to push you past every boundary you ever thought you had and for you to go there because I made you. She’d never thought of herself as a particularly submissive person, but neither was she, as she’d told him, very disciplined or driven. In this context it felt...erotic to do as he suggested, entirely because he wanted it. When she saw him next, no matter what she wore, no matter what she took off, they’d both be aware that she’d made herself naked in that very private way. For him.

  Wicked, indeed.

  * * *

  Tina made it home just before the girls did. “Hey!” she called out, hearing them rocket in the door. “Did you eat yet?”

  “No.” Carly dropped her bag on the kitchen table. “And I’m starving. What’s for dinner?”

  “Wow!” Josie made an astonished face. “You got a haircut. You look like Catherine Zeta-Jones’ character in Chicago.”

  “Velma,” Carly supplied.

  Tina self-consciously ran a hand over the shining bob that left the back of her neck bare and came to points just below her jaw. “What do you think?”

  “Thumbs up,” Josie replied, then elbowed Carly.

  Carly had pounced on the folio containing the tablet. “What’s this—you got a new tablet? Not fair! Is this cover Kate Spade?”

  “It’s for my new job. It’s on loan.” She’d decided to be up-front about that, as they’d spot it eventually.

  “What’s the security code?” Carly asked, when Tina’s usual one—her birthday, of course—didn’t work.

  “Secret. I bought steaks—sound good?”

  “Oh, come on, I just want to play with it a little.”

  “Nope.” Tina withdrew it from her hands. “It’s a high-security thing. I swore not to let anyone but me use it.”

  Josie, sitting at the table, chin in hands, watched the exchange. “Must be a good job, if we get steaks and you got a haircut. That’s not from Super Cheap Cuts.”

  “Can we go where you went, too?” Carly wanted to know, her gaze still on the denied tablet.

  No way in hell. “You can pick a place and I’ll treat you to new styles. We can go shopping, too—new shoes and some clothes.”

  “What about my phone?” Carly demanded.

  “If you’re good.”

  The girls hooted and touched fingers, fluttering them away, then chattering happily about highlights and debating the merits of various hairstyles and smartphones. Tina set to cooking, relieved that their self-absorption had worked in her favor and neither had thought to ask what the new job involved.

  Much later, after the twins were asleep—or at least whispering to each other quietly enough behind their closed door that she couldn’t hear them—Tina poured herself a glass of the wine she’d treated herself to, and curled up in bed with the tablet.

  You don’t have to pick anything tonight. Just look.

  As soon as she logged in, a message request came up. He’d left it an hour ago, so might not be online now. Maybe she shouldn’t accept. She could pretend she hadn’t looked. Or simply decline, as he’d said she could. Except, with her intimate skin clean and sensitive because of this man, not to mention what happened that day, he occupied her thoughts. And she wanted to talk to him with a surprising amount of hunger. Why not? She could always sign out again. With a sense of vibrating anticipation, she accepted the message and waited, telling herself she wouldn’t be disappointed if he was no longer online.

  A message popped up immediately.

  Good evening, Celestina. I’ve been thinking about you.

  She hesitated. Then went for it. Me too.

  How was the salon?

  Amazing. Over the top. Thank you.

  Thank YOU. I liked thinking of you, getting naked for me.

  Blushing hotly, she messaged back. You might not ever see it!

  I have a vivid imagination. It’s enough to know.

  What all would he be imagining about her? Plenty, no doubt.

  I got a haircut, too.

  Show me? I think you can send a photo via the tablet.

  Hang on.

  The girls did selfies all the time, so she had an idea how to do it. The stylist at the salon—Larry the fabulous—had redone her makeup, too. “Gratis, honey. Can’t have you looking like an escapee from the ‘90s.”

  The first couple of shots came out unflattering and she deleted them immediately in case he could somehow connect to them. When she had one she liked, she sent it.

  You look beautiful. Sexy. How about a photo of the other haircut?

  She laughed, scandalized, and quickly smothered the sound in case the twins heard it.

  I don’t THINK so!

  Just as well, I might lose my mind at the sight and frighten my companions.

  You’re not alone
???

  Business dinner. Awful. You’ve made it much more interesting.

  I can’t believe you’re sexting me while at a business dinner!

  They think I’m running numbers. Gives them the illusion that I’m considering their ridiculous offer before I destroy their hopes. I’m also terribly important and busy. ;-)

  Flirting with me.

  I like flirting with you. Would you touch yourself for me?

  Already wet, her bare pussy clenched at that. So illicit to be doing this. She’d always wondered, when women did phone sex, if they did those things or just lied. Maybe it didn’t matter to the listener, but it mattered to her. Keeping an eye on her closed bedroom door, she slipped her left hand into her PJ bottoms and caressed the smooth, slick, somewhat stinging skin. Very different without any hair. More defined and exposed. She messaged back, typing with her right hand.

  I am.

  How does it feel?

  Soft. Naked. How far should she go? Something mischievous in her took the next step. Wet.

  For me.

  Yes.

  When I can I see you again?

  She stroked herself, enjoying the shiver of sensation and the power of teasing him for a change.

  I haven’t decided. Watch your tablet.

  I have been. Impatiently. Don’t you have homework to do?

  I was going to when I got distracted.

  Mea culpa. Don’t let me distract you. Pick something. Anything. Tomorrow?

  She didn’t know about that. Maybe.

  Your choice of course. Until I have you.

  I know.

  Good night. Sweet dreams.

  Good night.

  She sent the message and closed the window, thinking of him in the business dinner, pretending to run numbers while daring her to take nude pictures and send them, coaxing her into touching herself like this. Such a different man than she’d ever known. Unpredictable in some ways. He liked the secrecy of their tablets, seeming to do one thing while engaging in another. An interesting insight.

  Aroused again by the conversation, she perused the intimidating menu with more interest and less trepidation. Some of it didn’t look quite so alarming after all. The night after next was Friday and the girls might be out late again. If that happened, she could see Ryan. Or something during the day?

  He had a section for Public Events, which gave her pause until she saw it included options such as dinner out or attending a cocktail reception with him. They seemed innocuous enough until she drilled down and discovered the more salacious options she could choose to include. The cocktail reception tomorrow evening was priced at $20K—ridiculous, but it would make a solid inroad on what she owed on one credit card—and then letting him choose what she wore added on to it, with top dollar for letting him provide the clothes from lingerie up.

  Various add-ons included “jewelry,” which made her laugh that he thought of nipple clamps that way—especially when they came in mild, moderate, tight and painful—with ascending values for each, doubled if he put them on instead of self-applied.

  It seemed she could, as he’d promised, get away with agreeing to a great many things he’d never actually see or touch. Even yesterday she would have questioned why that worked for him, but she began to understand him better now. He liked to imagine what he couldn’t see—especially now that he’d gotten a long, intimate look at her—and indulge in the secrecy of only the two of them knowing. Enjoy the thrill of getting her to do something at his instruction. Oddly, it gave her a thrill, too.

  Fine, she would be his date for the party. A good trial run. Perusing the various drop-down menus, she selected the parameters of their next encounter.

  Chapter Ten

  Ryan used the motion of locking and stowing the mini-tablet to adjust the somewhat painful pinch of his hardened cock. That helped—though he’d better cool his thoughts if he hoped for the erection to subside soon.

  Turning his mind back to the business at hand certainly helped cool his ardor. Even with the fascinatingly sexual and yet enigmatic Celestina filling his brain, as if she’d been in the room and departed, leaving only the florid scent of her perfume, the expectant expressions of his hosts irritated him. Another reason he preferred lunches. Dinners always seemed to be when his associates foolishly pressed for concessions. They should know he never signed off on anything at night—only in the bright light of day.

  Pretending to listen to their arguments, he thought of Celestina in her bed, touching herself because he asked it. He’d glimpsed the headboard behind her in the photo, the cheesy powder-blue padded kind that had seen better years. She looked phenomenal, the haircut emphasizing her thickly lashed dark eyes and lush red mouth. Hopefully she’d choose to see him soon or he’d have to...what? No. No, he wouldn’t press her more than he had already. No matter how much he craved to possess her immediately, in every way.

  Ending the evening as quickly as possible, which meant agreeing to an early morning meeting to set the final numbers—which would not be what they hoped for—he waited until his driver had pulled away from the restaurant to pull out the tablet again. He told himself he wouldn’t be disappointed if she hadn’t agreed on their next encounter yet. For the time being, he’d exercise patience.

  But luck was with him. With a renewed surge of lust and curiosity—excellent combination—he opened the packet to see what she’d selected. Conservative choices to begin with—no surprise there—with a few surprising twists. More daring of her than he’d predicted, but not necessarily the highest dollar options. Fascinating woman. The following evening promised to be one of the most entertaining in ages.

  Taking out his phone, he began making notes of supplies to acquire and have ready for her.

  * * *

  Good morning Celestina.

  The text awaited her, blinking there on her phone when she thumbed the alarm off. Sent at 5:00 a.m. Good lord, did the man ever sleep? She probably didn’t want to know the answer to that.

  Good morning, she sent back, her heart tripping a little over what he might want, and headed to the kitchen to start the coffee. Good coffee, not the cheapie brand. Soon she’d have to go back to shopping on a budget, but it had been so much fun the night before to be frivolous and squander some of the money. She’d have more already, having agreed to the “date” that night. She should get serious about making a plan of which bills to pay first. Maybe tomorrow. It seemed wrong to be looking forward to the evening, but she was and she wouldn’t think about it too much beyond that.

  I have a few questions, when you can look. Logistics. Looking forward to tonight.

  Down the hall, the girls argued about who got the shower first. K. Gotta go.

  He didn’t reply, so she deleted the conversation and went to mediate the shower argument. Then she made breakfast, sliding the organic eggs with spinach and feta, turkey bacon on the side, in front of a wet-headed Josie, whose turn it had been to go first. She would start feeding the girls the way Ara would have wanted, to the best of her ability.

  “Where’s my cereal?” she pouted.

  “Too much sugar in that crap. With my new job we can afford to eat healthier and we’re going to.”

  “Oh joy. Sprouted bread and alfalfa juice.”

  “We’ll make a good California girl out of you yet.”

  She grumbled but ate with enthusiasm. “Antina?”

  “Yes?”

  “Since you got a new job already—does that mean you can’t help with the dance team coaching?”

  Tina turned back from making Carly’s eggs. “You were serious about that?”

  Josie nodded, mouth full. “You’d be great. I’ve seen the vids of you and Mom. You two were awesome. You’d be hella better than Ms. Passwater.”

  “You shouldn’t call her that
and ‘hella’ is more swearing than not.”

  “She’s not here to hear me. Besides, she’s not a real teacher.”

  “Yes, but she’s a human being and deserves your respect. I’ll think about it. The new job is flexible, which means I’ll have different hours. I won’t be home until about eight tonight. I’ll ask Mrs. Henderson to come over.”

  “Noooo,” Carly wailed from the doorway. “We can stay by ourselves.”

  Tina pointed at her chair and put the plate in front of her. They were borderline age for it and she wouldn’t be out late. She and Ara had started staying home alone when they were eleven, but...

  “Please, Antina.” Josie straightened her shoulders. “We’ll be responsible. We’ll even cook a healthy dinner.” She kicked Carly, who was poking at the eggs.

  Okay, they were all trying new things and she needed to trust them more than she had. They’d grown up so much. “No friends while I’m not here. Doors stay locked. Homework before TV. Healthy food.”

  They nodded along with enthusiasm, attempting to look like the angels they weren’t. Time to take a page from Ryan’s book and sweeten the deal. “If you two can stay alone while I’m doing my job without incident for the rest of the month, you can have new phones.”

  That got them. They jumped up and hugged her as they hadn’t in forever. They chattered happily as she drove them to school, full of sincere resolve to make it easy for her to do her new job that brought them such unexpected riches. Both girls even turned and waved before they rounded the corner, after she dropped them the requisite block away from their school.

  Instead of driving home—Ryan’s ideals were permeating her life—she went to a coffee shop, ordered a large, decadent latte and sat outside in the sun to drink it. Checking the tablet, she found a private message from him, sent at nearly midnight. That answered the question about whether the man slept.

  Logistics: I can either send the clothing, etc., to your house and send a car for you to meet me, in which case I need your address. Or you can be at my house an hour before the reception, change, then my driver can bring you to meet me. Also, remember from the moment we meet, the rules are in effect. Use your safeword if necessary. Respond ASAP.