by Young, M. L.
“Tell me, Penelope, do you like literature?” Blake asked.
“Yeah, I do,” I said, perking up. “Back home reading was all I really did, well, aside from coding and sitting on the computer.”
“I have a rather extensive collection of ancient and classic literature back at my apartment. It was actually featured recently in a magazine. I don’t show it to many people in person because of its intrinsic value, but I’d be willing to show you,” Blake said.
“I shouldn’t. I should probably get home,” I said.
“Oh, come now. I don’t live that far away and besides, my driver will take you home whenever you’d like, so it isn’t like you have to drive or sit on the bus. I promise you won’t regret it,” Blake said, smiling.
I sat there with my hands in my lap as I fiddled with the white linen napkin and ran through a thousand possibilities and scenarios in my head all at once. Maybe he was just being a genuinely nice guy and wanted to connect on a hobby. Maybe he wanted to show off how expensive his collection was. Maybe he wanted to get me in bed. Maybe, just maybe, and I was just throwing this out there, he was a sociopathic killer who wanted to cut me up into little pieces and feed me to the squirrels in the park. Even though all of those were valid, there was a part of me that still wanted to see not only his collection, but also his apartment. What exactly did a billionaire have? I was curious enough to possibly find out.
“I guess that sounds fair enough. I’ll come by, but I shouldn’t stay long. I don’t want my roommate to worry,” I said convincingly.
“Excellent. I think you’ll enjoy everything you see there,” Blake said.
Blake paid the check with a black credit card that almost brought envy to the waitress’s eyes. I took another sip of my wine, the rest of the glass, and felt it slide smoothly down my throat before I took a breath and felt the sting of the alcohol on my tongue against the crisp air.
“Here you are, sir. Thank you for dining with us tonight and we hope to see you two again soon,” our waitress said with a smile, before seeing herself out.
“My car should’ve been brought around front by now. Shall we go?” Blake asked, as he checked his watch.
“Yes, please,” I said, getting out of the booth.
My heels clacked against the wooden floor. The staff was waiting at the front to open the doors for us and say goodbye. I wasn’t sure if they were smiling because they liked us, or because they were happy they got paid to only wait on us. It must’ve been a fairly slow workday for them.
As we walked outside, the sting of the night air wrapped around my body and I shivered. With the hairs on my arm standing up, Blake looked at me, as he must’ve seen me struggling.
“Here,” he said, taking off his blazer.
“Oh, you don’t have to—”
“I want to. Besides, I feel fine,” he said, opening my door for me.
His car, a shiny black Italian supercar, had curves in all of the right places. The inside, wrapped in jet black leather with red stitching, had the faintest scent of wealth as I felt the backs of my thighs against what felt like velvet. This sure beat Nicolette’s car clear out of the water.
Blake got in and locked himself into the racing-style chair before shifting it into drive and taking off like a bat out of hell. With only his left hand on the wheel he zipped through the streets as the car performed every command he gave it.
We didn’t say much during the drive, as his focus seemed to be solely on driving. There was no music, not even the faintest hint of a favorite Internet radio station, and all I did was look out of the tinted windows as each person we passed looked on with envious eyes.
After about fifteen minutes, mostly due to traffic, we arrived at a large building that had an underground parking garage. It must’ve been at most eight or nine stories, but it was wide and had an almost affluent look and design that definitely didn’t fit in with the buildings around it.
Blake pressed a button and the hulking metal door opened, and we slowly drove through it, before he triggered it to quickly close behind us. There were other cars here, though not many spaces open, if any. The floors weren’t concrete, but a white epoxy-style finish with gold flakes speckled throughout.
Blake pulled forward in front of an industrial-looking elevator that sat with its doors closed. He pressed another button, though this time the elevator door opened three sets of doors. Two metal ones, one opening vertically and one horizontally, and a screen-like one that rolled upwards.
“Do we get out?” I asked, with my hand on the seatbelt buckle.
“No,” he said, before slowly driving into the elevator.
“What…what are you doing?” I asked in a panicked tone.
“Going to my apartment,” he said as he looked at me, completely calm.
“In here?” I asked, looking around.
“Of course,” he replied as the doors closed behind us.
The cab unlocked below us and started moving upwards, and I heard heavy motors pulling us. Just as we had gone about ten feet up, however, something happened. Windows, all lined up in front of us, showed us the water outside, with each foot we went up taking us one foot closer to the stars. It was so beautiful—seeing all of the cars driving below as some people stopped to take pictures in the distance. The moonlight fought for dominance with the harsh city lights, which were reflecting on the wake of the bay. It was mesmerizing.
The elevator stopped and the doors of the car unlocked. We got out and I stood there for a second as Blake, who was standing outside the elevator now, waited patiently. I turned back around and grabbed his hand as he extended it so I could walk over the exposed crease that was between the elevator floor and the floor of his apartment. I peeked down as I walked across, and saw the dizzying height below. I shook it off, smiled, and as I came inside, Blake pressed a button and the shaft door closed.
“Well, this is it,” he said, extending his arms.
I was in awe.
The floor we were on was actually two stories tall, with a vaulted ceiling above the living area accentuated with dark wooden beams that contrasted with the medically white ceiling.
Art, some of which looked like it cost millions of dollars, hung on the walls, some of it enclosed in glass with small lights shining down on the canvases. His furniture, a slate gray, wrapped around the room, the largest sectional I had ever seen.
All I could do was look around, and with every turn and every glance I took, I was more and more in love with what I saw. This was living the life, and Blake Hunter was making the most out of it.
“You live here alone?” I asked.
“Yes. It can be a little big sometimes, but when you fill the space with good people it tends to feel a little less cold and a little warmer,” he said as he looked at me.
I walked over to the couch before running my fingers along the sheepskin blanket draped over the back. I didn’t think I had ever felt anything so soft in my entire life. It felt as if it was a buttery cloud and my fingers were just gliding through it.
“Would you like something to drink? I have…everything,” Blake said.
“I probably shouldn’t, especially after that wine at the restaurant,” I said.
“It doesn’t have to be alcoholic, you know. How about a sparkling water with lemon?” he asked.
“Okay, that sounds nice,” I said with a smile.
Blake went into the kitchen as I walked over to the two-story window in his living room and looked out over the city. I couldn’t hear a single note of what was happening outside, even though there were cars and people aplenty. I couldn’t imagine the soundproofing he had on this place.
“Here you are,” he said, handing me my drink.
“Thank you,” I said, taking a sip.
I felt the bubbles fizzle against my tongue as Blake took a sip of his own drink. I had to admit I didn’t care for mine, and I wasn’t a fan of sparkling water, but I guessed I was just so entranced by his home that I didn’t even realize
he’d offered it to me. I guessed I liked my water flat, not fizzy.
“The sky looks beautiful tonight,” I said, as I turned back around and looked out the window.
“I’ve seen prettier,” he said, and I felt his hand against the small of my back.
With a few little butterflies tickling my stomach, I stood up straight and tried to keep myself composed.
“Oh yeah? On one of your trips?” I asked.
“No,” he said, in a curt tone. “Right now.”
I turned to look at him. His eyes were already locked on mine before I could prepare myself. Why was he doing this? Why was he talking like this? I thought this was supposed to be a business dinner to discuss my internship, not a…well…date.
He did have a charm and essence to him that couldn’t be described by normal words. He was an enigma of the male species and even though he was, or could be, my boss, I couldn’t seem to help myself. I had experienced a dry spell for so long, and let’s face it, he was hot. He was habanero hot.
“Look at the time. It’s getting late. I should probably show you my literature collection before you have to go. I know you wanted to get home early tonight,” he said, as his hand disappeared from my back.
I bit my lower lip as he turned around and followed him to a set of large spiral stairs that were each lit up. We walked up the dark wood stairs and I trailed behind, each step of my heels producing a loud clack that resonated through his apartment. When we got to the second floor, I noticed that it seemed to be just as large, if not larger, than the first floor.
He didn’t say a word as I followed him down the hallway and to the very last room on the right. The door, which was painted but didn’t look like wood, had an intimidating appearance. Blake knocked at three different random locations on the door before to the left of it, a panel slid open. A blue gel-like pad was there, and with a quick smile, Blake pressed his left hand against it and rolled it up and down gently.
The pad glowed green and the door unlocked before he pushed it open. As we walked in I looked at the door, which was at least four inches thick, before it closed on its own.
“What’s all this?” I asked, pointing at it.
“What? You didn’t think I’d leave my valuable ancient books on any old Swedish-made bookshelf, did you?” he asked with a smirk.
Blake flipped a light switch and the room started to light up with a dim glow. It wasn’t as bright as the rest of his place, but as the lights fully came on, I saw the collection he was talking about. The room, which was almost the size of my apartment, was wrapped on all walls with scores of books.
Some were standard modern books, while others, encased behind thick glass, were rare in every sense of the word. I walked up to those, not caring so much for the recent ones, as I looked up and down at them.
He had ancient texts, signed first editions of classic literature, and even a book that looked waterlogged and slightly ripped up.
“What’s this one?” I asked.
“Oh, that? It was on the Titanic. It isn’t exactly valuable for the book itself, but more for the fact of where it was. It wasn’t too pricey, either,” he said.
“You weren’t lying about the size of your collection. It really is marvelous,” I said, my face so close to the glass that I was fogging it up.
“I never lie about size, Penelope. Everything I own is big,” he said.
I felt myself tingling with that comment as I continued to look around and not even give him the benefit of a smile. I could see him watching me in the reflection of the glass as I looked at a collection of scrolls rolled up with some ancient text on them. What was the real reason he brought me in here tonight? Why me? I was starting to feel like this whole closed-off romantic dinner thing was a ploy for something not internship-related. I might not be the most sophisticated with regards to men, but I was also not an idiot, especially when things were laid out right in front of me.
“May I ask you a question?” I asked.
“You may,” he replied.
“Why am I here right now?” I asked, as I turned around to look at him.
“I’m afraid I don’t understand the question,” he said.
“I’m just trying to figure out how we went from me in your office trying to secure an internship to me standing in a dimly lit room in your apartment alone with you,” I said.
“You’re free to leave at any time, Penelope. I will gladly call Gustav now and have him escort you home,” Blake said.
“I didn’t say I wanted to leave. I asked why I’m here,” I said.
“You’re a smart woman, Penelope. I’m not going to act like you’re some idiotic little girl. I will admit that there is an attraction I feel just by looking at you. You’re special, Penelope,” Blake said.
He started to move in closer towards me, and I felt all the blood in my face rush to my cheeks as they began to turn warm. I put my right hand on my left forearm, standing there, as he came closer.
“I’m not special, Blake. I’m like everybody else out there. I’m average,” I said.
“No,” he said, before his left hand gripped my waist. “You’re something special, all right. I don’t know what it is about you, but I know I need more.”
“I don’t think—”
“Shh,” he said, pressing his right index finger softly against my lips.
He pulled it away, a small smile on his face, before I looked down. My heart was now beating a mile a minute. The same finger that rested upon my lips now went under my chin and slowly pushed it upwards so my eyes once again met his.
He moved in closer, his eyes starting to close as he did, and his lips touched mine. My eyes still open, I closed them slowly, as I felt his left hand grip harder onto my waist and pull me in closer. I wrapped my arms around him, running my hands through the back of his short brown hair. I couldn’t believe this was happening. I couldn’t believe I was kissing him.
Just as I had gotten comfortable and fully experienced the lust that he had given me, I pulled back and I wasn’t quite sure why.
“No,” I said, wiping my lips. “I can’t do this. You’re my boss. Well, you’re not my boss yet, and I probably won’t get the internship now, but it isn’t right.”
“There are no rules against us being together, Penelope. It’s my company, after all,” Blake said.
“I just…don’t want to do something I’ll regret later on. You’re Blake Hunter and I’m, well, I’m Penelope Wells,” I said, with my arms crossed.
“Then own that. Love being Penelope Wells, because the woman I see in front of me right now is worth it. If you’d like, I’ll call Gustav now. I don’t hold any ill will towards you, Penelope. You won’t face any repercussions in terms of the internship and I’ll give Sharon a glowing recommendation,” Blake said, as he walked towards the door.
“Wait,” I shouted, as he put his hand on the handle.
“Yes?” he asked, taking his hand off.
“Were your intentions tonight, and in the office, to get me here? To get me to sleep with you?” I asked.
“No,” he said, his back still towards me.
“Do you promise?” I asked, with my nervousness clearly lingering in my voice.
“Yes,” he replied.
“Then I’d like to continue,” I replied.
He lingered at the door before he turned around and walked over to a bookshelf I hadn’t yet gotten to peruse. He motioned for me to come over and I did, as we stood in front of the behemoth wall of books.
“I want to show you something,” he said.
“Okay,” I replied.
“You must never tell a single soul about what I’m going to show you. Do you promise to keep my secret a secret, Penelope?” he asked.
“What is it?” I asked with trepidation.
“I can’t tell you. I can only show you. You must promise me you won’t speak of it to anybody, not even your roommate,” he said, a serious look in his eyes.
“Okay, I won’t tell
anybody. I promise,” I said.
Blake put his fingers on a book, one with the word “lust” on the spine, and pulled it back, though it didn’t come out of the shelf, before he put it back. I heard a few locks inside click before part of the bookshelf, a door-sized section, popped open.
Blake grabbed onto it, pulling it open to reveal a staircase.
“There’s another level?” I asked, as I peeked inside.
“Yes. It’s small, just a large room, really. Would you like to see it?” he asked.
“I’m not sure…do I?” I asked.
Blake motioned me upstairs with his head and I walked up the stairs with him right behind me. The door shut behind us as LED lights lined the staircase and guided me up.
“What is this?” I asked, when I got to the top and looked at the dimly lit room.
“My sex room,” he said.
CHAPTER FIVE
Penelope
There was a bed in the middle of the room, king-sized, with black sheets and a black comforter. The walls, which were lined with shelves and drawers, had everything and anything imaginable in the world of sex toys.
There were handcuffs, blindfolds, whips, dildos, vibrators, and even some things I wasn’t quite sure what they were. The lighting, which was dim though bountiful enough to see around, came from the baseboards. A soft scent of cinnamon wafted throughout. I couldn’t believe where I was, and I couldn’t believe what it meant.
“Now tell me, Penelope, have you been a good girl recently?” Blake asked, as his hand ran across the small of my back.
I felt shivers up and down my spine before his hand left my body. He walked over to a drawer, opened it, and pulled something out.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“It’s something that’s going to help you melt away all your stress. Would you like to feel good, Penelope?” he asked.
“Yes,” I replied.
He tossed the item on the bed before it faded into the obscurity of the dark fabric. He came over to me, his hands grasping my hips, before his lips pressed against mine and our tongues soon met.