He flashes me a smile. “You like?”
Pax watches me intensely; he can’t see my face, but he can hear my reply. What’s his deal? He’s really staring at me in a not-so-nice way.
“You look heavenly,” I jest, and he laughs. Pax, however, drinks his drink and looks away.
Laurie turns with the drinks to our little group, a straw in mine. She holds it while I make a little hole in the top of the zip and suck half the whiskey in a few healthy gulps. It goes down so nicely. So cooling and refreshing, until the warming afterburn, that is.
“Holy Father, fuck me,” Laurie cries, her eyes roaming up and down my boss. I feel a spike of something at her perusal of him, something not so nice. I don’t know what the feeling is but it’s making me edgy. “You are one fine piece of man candy, Mr. C.”
I flap my T-rex hand in her face.
“Why thank you,” he replies, grinning at her in a really seductive way.
It’s stupid, I know he’d never cheat on his wife, but I don’t like that she has his attention and I don’t. An unfair thing of me seeing as I’m here with Pax.
“More, please,” I tell Laurie who guides the straw through the hole. I decide to just trap the straw in place and dip it into the glass instead whenever I need it.
I’m smart sometimes.
“You look hilarious, as I knew you would,” Mr. C says to me, knocking his knuckles against the plastic cover.
“Where’s Mrs. Conti?” I ask him, looking around for her by turning my whole body.
“She just left,” he replies. “She came as a nun.”
“Sexy.” I laugh at the image of Mrs. Conti as a nun, wishing I hadn’t gotten here so late, but the idea was to get here when everybody is drunk already. I think we succeeded. Everybody looks to be having a great time.
“Let’s dance,” Laurie pleads, looking at the dance floor and one of my male coworkers who has been eyeing her since she arrived. I think they’ve met before, once when she brought me lunch and he thought her tics were hilarious.
“Excuse me, gents,” I tell Pax and Mr. C. “I have to dino-dance.”
“Oh this will be good,” Ezra mutters and Pax hums his agreement.
We find a space where people are already boogying and join in. There’s little I can do but shake my T-rex butt and wave my hands around. Nobody can see me dancing beyond the outside of my costume anyway. So that’s what I do, I hold hands with Laurie and shake my head and dino-butt. The laughter we get is excellent and it’s even better when people join in, making me dance with them and take pictures.
Three drinks and a lot of songs later, I stumble out of there, leaving Laurie with Pax on the crowded floor.
I can’t breathe. I’m so warm. Sweat is dripping down my body. It’s gross but at least I don’t smell bad.
I pull on the community bathroom door but it’s locked. Fuck.
I really need out of this suit for ten. I’m going to pass out.
Meh… Ezra won’t mind if I use his en suite. I hope.
I drag my feet to his office and push on the door, surprised to find it unlocked. Lucky me.
It’s pitch-black, the only light coming through is the occasional disco light dancing across the outside of the blinds.
“Can’t breathe,” I say and break out of my costume. The cool air hits my clammy skin and I want to cry.
I drunkenly kick my feet out of it, tripping and catching myself on the desk, and then I head towards the bathroom and do my thing. The light blinds me momentarily upon entry.
I wash my hands and face and splash water at myself, but I still feel gross. I decide to just take one of Mr. C’s flannels and wipe down my entire body with cold water. I pull off my thin dress and drop it on the closed toilet, leaving me in matching lace bra and thong. I put them on because I figured I’d be getting laid tonight and matching underwear sends Pax wild.
My neck, shoulders, chest, stomach all tingle and quiver as I wipe myself down. I moan. It feels so good. So cold.
When done, I let my body air dry and then put back on my white cotton chemise, feeling a lot cooler now. The flannel lands in the trash can by the toilet with a thud.
I almost don’t want to put the suit back on, but I can’t go out there in this.
The bathroom door closes behind me as I smooth down my dress one final time. It only comes to just past my rear. I was thinking of going in nothing but my underwear but convinced myself that would be a bad idea. Especially if the suit got ripped.
I drunkenly head forward despite the fact I’m not paying attention and collide with a bare chest.
“Dude,” I mutter stupidly staring at somebody’s throat in the dark. But then I make out the collar and realize the chest under my hands is solid and so perfectly toned and smooth. “Hello, Father.” I giggle drunkenly and he smiles in the dark, his teeth flashing as his hands touch my waist, holding me in place. “Do you want to confess?”
A whisper of his whiskey, sweet-scented breath fans across my face. That’s how close we are.
I am so drunk.
“Do you?” he asks, his tone holding amusement.
“Nope, I’ve been so good this year, Santa.” I shake my head. “Wait… wrong costume… wrong fetish.”
He chuckles and reaches up to tuck my hair behind my ear. “You’re drunk.”
“I am,” I admit, flashing my eyes at him. “So are you.”
“I am,” he replies on a breath.
“You should get back to work,” I murmur, glancing between his eyes and his lips.
“We’re at a party.”
“Right.” Duh. I’m so stupid. “Can you help me get back into my costume?”
“Sure.” He steps away from me and crouches on the floor, holding the feet part open for me so I can step into them. He pulls the costume up my body, his hands slide up the outside of my legs, slightly lifting my dress as he goes.
My body is on fire again for an entirely different reason this time.
I push my arms through, breathing heavy and still wobbling.
“Happy Halloween, Mr. C,” I whisper and press my lips against the corner of his mouth.
Because that was a good idea that I won’t regret when I’m sober.
I don’t wait to see his reaction; I pull the thing over my head and zip it up tight before exiting the room completely deflated. The costume… not me.
It inflates as I go, the battery pack on the inside humming gently.
What an awesome night.
“Where were you?” Pax asks, his tone accusatory and harsh.
“Bathroom,” I reply, shaking my inflatable butt some more. “Shall we go home and have sex?”
His eyes soften and his lips quirk with a smile.
“What about Laurie?”
I look at my little moocow all grinding up against her new lover.
“She’s good, she’s going home with him tonight.”
“Well then,” he says with a smile. “Let’s get you home and thoroughly fucked.”
Thoroughly fucked indeed.
* * *
The following Monday at work I have officially reached legendary status. Apparently, I won best costume but I left before I could receive my prize so that was waiting for me on my desk this morning. It’s a bottle of whiskey and a plaque that I proudly display on my desk for all to see.
Truth be told, I’ve been dreading coming in today. I texted Mr. C yesterday asking him to call me and he never did so I’m guessing that’s because he’s mad that I kissed him.
Although it wasn’t really a kiss and I was really drunk.
I knock on his door and enter, remembering how dark it was in here just two nights ago.
“Hey,” I say softly, smiling at my boss who is working at his laptop.
“Hey, Godzilla, how’s your head?”
“Better than I deserve,” I respond with a shy smile. He grins but doesn’t look up from his laptop. “Can I… talk to you?”
His brows are raised and his
eyes curious when he finally gives me his attention. He also seems nervous, and I vaguely wonder why but decide to focus on my own misgivings right now. “What is it?”
“I just wanted to say that I’m sorry for my behavior in your office at the party,” I mumble, and he shifts uncomfortably in his chair before standing and rounding his table to lean against the side closest to me.
“Your behavior?” He looks confused now, definitely wary.
“Yeah, I kind of maybe kissed you when I was getting dressed?”
His lips part. “That’s all that happened?”
I panic. “Why? Did I do something else?”
“No.” He raises his hands, laughing. “You didn’t do anything. And don’t worry about the kiss. It wasn’t even a kiss.”
“It kinda was though. My lips were on your lips,” I argue, still feeling panicked. “It wasn’t appropriate at all.”
“You kissed me like I used to kiss my grandma. Trust me. Out of the two of us, your intentions were innocent.” He mumbles the last part and I don’t think I was supposed to hear it. When he checks his watch, I say my goodbyes. I don’t know what’s going through his mind, but I’m terrified of it.
What did he mean I was the innocent one? And he kept saying that I didn’t do anything wrong in a way that implied somebody else did.
I don’t recall that he did anything wrong, but I was super drunk.
I remember him helping me get dressed and that’s it. Nothing inappropriate happened. Right?
My head hurts.
I suppose it doesn’t matter. Not really.
I decide to draw a line under it.
Chapter Fourteen
He’s not afraid to dress up.
Pax and I have been dating for just over two months, not really the longest time in the grand scheme of things but long enough for me to know that I absolutely adore him. He’s just amazing.
He’s so sweet and considerate. Excellent in bed.
Well… until now anyway. Right now he’s being a dick.
“Can’t you wear something a little more… revealing?” he asks, kissing my neck as I look at our reflection in the store mirror.
It’s Mr. C’s annual Christmas party this weekend, a great opportunity to network. Pax is going as my plus one and he’s looking forward to it.
“I want to be the envy of every single man in the room,” he whispers against my ear, sending shivers down my spine.
“I don’t feel comfortable in revealing clothes. You know this.”
“I know, it doesn’t have to be super revealing, just sexy.”
I can’t hide the hurt I feel at his words. “I thought you wanted me to be whoever I am?”
“I’m hardly asking you to change,” he grumbles, pulling away from me. “I just want you to dress a little differently for once. Is that so bad?”
He traces a line from my ear to my shoulder, pulling down my stretchy T-shirt as he goes.
“What would you suggest?” I ask quietly. I can do this for him. It’s not a big deal.
He pulls me out of the store I chose and straight into a Saks. Basically it’s where rich people buy their Versace and Gucci and Armani… or whatever.
“You’re paying,” I say, blanching at the first price tag I come across.
“Anything you want,” he replies, hooking his arm around my neck and taking me straight to a section of cocktail dresses.
Most women would be thrilled at the prospect of a successful and very sexy guy spending his cash on clothes for them, but I’m not. Mainly because this feels like the start of something bad and not something good at all.
“Holy shit,” he mutters when I try on a two-piece, black lace top and skirt. It’s mostly see-through with black covering my more intimate parts. “You look… incredible.”
“I feel naked,” I say, frowning.
“You don’t look naked, I promise.” His hungry eyes eat my form and his hands slide down my bare arms. “Now all we need are heels and a sparkly necklace that just touches the top of your breasts.” His fingers trail the necklace design he has in his mind and he guides his erection into my rear. “Let’s get you some new underwear while we’re here too. I’ve seen everything you have already.”
The skirt gets caught under my foot when I try to move away from him. I’m being a bitch. He’s just trying to do a nice thing for me and I’m acting like a bitch.
“I love it,” I lie to appease him after seeing his smile falter.
“Good,” he whispers, touching his lips to mine. “Because I love you.”
My heart implodes, explodes, whatever, it just fills with so much joy.
“I love you too,” I respond automatically because I’m certain that I do.
“Then let me spoil you,” he breathes and picks me up with his arms around my waist.
* * *
I have never felt more uncomfortable in my life. At least I’m not overdressed though because every woman entering Mr. C’s huge home is in a fancy, red-carpet-ready outfit.
I have my hair done and curled over both shoulders, my makeup was professionally done because I’m hopeless, and I’m wearing a stunning diamond necklace that just tickles the dip where my breasts meet.
I feel out of place despite the fact I blend in better than I ever have.
“Stop fidgeting,” Pax whispers though his tone is light and happy. “You look fucking stunning. I’ll be the envy of every man at this party.”
I hold his arm as we nod at people we’ve never met and enter the huge home that I’m familiar with. I try not to bite my lips because of the dark red matte lipstick that has been professionally applied.
“Oh my God,” Mrs. Conti says, looking glamorous in a sparkling green dress as her brown eyes look me up and down. “Is that you, Rose?”
I start twisting my hands again, but Pax stops me and brings my hand to his lips.
“It certainly is, Mrs. Conti, isn’t she gorgeous?”
Mrs. Conti releases a nervous laugh, still eyeing me. “Who would have thought there was such a swan beneath those clothes.”
“Don’t,” I beg, fighting the urge to cover myself as Mr. C joins us near the entrance, laughing at something a man behind him has said. He hasn’t looked at me yet and I hope he never does. I don’t know what it is about him that has me wanting to shrink back even further into my old clothes. I’m terrified of him seeing me this way again.
I just want to go home already.
“Rose, you know where everything is,” Mrs. Conti says, nodding for me to move along. She doesn’t want her husband to see me. Or that’s what I’m getting from this.
I don’t want him to see me either. I respect him. I don’t want him to see me as a woman. Not again.
“I want to go home,” I tell Pax when we move along, ready to hit the bar. Maria isn’t here, she must be with her grandparents.
“Stop whining,” he whispers, kissing my temple. “We’ll be eating soon.”
I rush into the next room, wondering if it’s possible to avoid Mr. C for the rest of the night. I wish I put a change of clothes in the trunk of Pax’s car.
I down a glass of gin, hoping that it calms my nerves and order another. Pax mingles and talks, introducing me to everyone as his girlfriend and of course it’s sweet but it’s also quite possessive in the way he tells people.
A buffet of food is open, and waiters stand to serve the more difficult choices as people help themselves.
I skip the food, have another drink and leave Pax to talk with three men from other branches of Mr. C’s company.
I’m accosted twice by men I don’t know, and the women are so nice, but I just don’t want to be here. I’m about to have a panic attack. I’m not coping.
I turn in the center, forgetting my bearings for a moment and all the faces blur into laughing, morphed and warped masks.
I duck out of the room, somebody calls my name, but I keep going, desperate to just be out of here.
I race up the wide, curving s
taircase and down the long hall. Straight for Maria’s room.
It’s the only room I know really.
I push open the door and slam it shut behind me, kicking off my heels and grabbing my hair.
I can’t cope. I’m not coping.
I grab her huge stuffed teddy that’s half the size of me and sit cross-legged by her bed, holding it tightly in my arms. I wish I had a room like this growing up. I wish I had my own room at all.
It’s neat, tidy, every toy has its place, her bed is huge with a translucent white canopy and twinkling lights dangling from it.
I squeeze the bear but it’s not the same as my stress ball. I wish I’d put it in my bag.
The door clicks open.
“Occupied,” I call out, keeping my cheek pressed to the top of the bear.
Whoever it is steps into the room and doesn’t stop until they’re crouched in front of me.
They take my hands and pull them free of the bear, then remove the bear and pull me until I’m looking up at them.
I look into his kind, concerned gray eyes and stand as he pulls me.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I didn’t mean to ditch your party.”
“Shhh,” he replies, keeping a hold of my hand and leading me to the door.
“Please don’t make me go back,” I beg, digging my heels in and gripping his wrist.
“I’m not.” He leads me out of his daughter’s room, looking right and left before pulling me out with him and further down the hall to the master bedroom.
So this is where he and Mrs. Conti sleep? It’s exactly how I imagined it. Modern, shiny, polished, expensive. Way too big. So much space. The bed looks plush though and well made.
“What are you doing?” I ask as he leads me to his closet and opens the door. I wait for him as he steps inside and crouches low to pick up a large, shiny blue box.
He puts it on the bed and takes off the lid, then removes tissue-like paper and tosses it to the side. This entire process neither of us say a word.
Then he lifts something out. Something designer, but definitely different and unique. It’s a deep purple pantsuit that will absolutely bury me in every way I want it to. It’s gorgeous. I love it.
Becoming His Mistress Page 10