The Boss's New Plaything

by Layla Valentine

  “Well, Ronald, this has some wondering about the validity her alleged kidnapping.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “Well, some are positing that it might all be a hoax on Ms. Pryce’s part to avoid responsibility for her involvement in this criminal gang, this group of individuals who attempted to rob the Bank of the West this morning.”

  “Well, that is a theory. What about the robbers themselves? Any information on their identities?”

  “Not at present, but police are asking anyone with any information at all to come forward. In fact, Heston Pryce himself is offering a 10,000-dollar reward for anyone with information on his daughter’s kidnapping or whereabouts—”

  Jake got up, pressed a button on the top of the TV to turn it off, and then flopped back on the couch. We didn’t say anything for a minute.

  “Who’s paying you?” I asked softly, but he only shook his head.

  “I call him Sunshine and he calls me Green Eyes.”

  I nodded and glanced over but couldn’t make out the expression on Jake’s face. He wouldn’t just keep me here indefinitely, would he? Suddenly, the whole situation seemed terrifyingly real, and words spilled out of me.

  “When are you going to bring me home? My father, my friends, they must be so scared…”

  I glanced over again, but Jake was staring at the blank screen of the TV.

  “I’m sorry. I wish I could return you home. The job’s almost over; I’m sure you father will pay up soon. I’m sorry.”

  All of this he said in a dead, cold voice, as if he were reading lines from a movie script. I stood up.

  “Sorry isn’t good enough, Jake.”

  After staring into his eyes for a moment, I turned on my heel and left.

  I walked into the forest, not seeing where I was going and not caring. I walked not to go anyplace but to get away. From that cabin, that man—that selfish beast of a man who was systematically destroying my life piece by piece.

  It was already getting dark out, but I didn’t care. Let it rain, let it pour, let it hail for all I cared. At least then the weather would match how I felt. The whole forest was alive with the upcoming storm. Birds squawked, squirrels and mice chattered, trees creaked, and on I walked. I slammed my feet into the dirt, tripping over tree roots and getting my feet entwined in thick ivy. I didn’t care. I wouldn’t stop, or couldn’t.

  The rain finally came, the sky going black. I didn’t care. Let the icy drops dash against my face. Let them slide with the angry tears spilling down my cheeks. Let my legs run on and on and on, achingly, trippingly so.

  The forest was black. The trees were blacker, but my eyes were blurry—the very air was blurry.

  My legs were fast becoming dead. It was so cold, so very cold. Each raindrop was like an icicle, but I couldn’t stop. I ran through the darkness, seeing nothing and feeling nothing but those deathly cold drops, the coldest I’d ever felt.

  At some point, my legs stopped, and a cold, wet mass of moss was my pillow. I couldn’t move. Huddled in a ball, my legs numb, images rolled in and out of my mind. Papa holding my mother’s lifeless body in the hospital. The dean of Brown University’s double chins jiggling as he handed me my diploma. A little girl running after me, her arms extended with the whole flag of Sierra Leone on her back. Paul’s empty, lifeless smile. The smell of Lux’s ever-changing hair dye. How Jake’s lips had felt on mine…

  Chapter Ten

  Jake

  The storm was going to let up and Alice was going to come back. I glanced out the window and told myself this for the fifth time. But what if it doesn’t and what if she doesn’t? the insidious voice inside my head asked.

  Pip barked, and I walked out the front door. Damn, it was coming down pretty hard. If she was as reckless and as furious as she had looked when she had stormed out, it wouldn’t be hard for her to get lost.

  I went back to the couch and sat down. There was no point in worrying; it’d been less than half an hour. The storm was going to let up, and she was going to come back. She had to. I cooked some ramen I’d found in the back of the pantry, saving a bowl for her. As I sat and ate, Pip came up and pawed my leg anxiously. Even from where I was sitting, I could see Gerald staring at me with accusation in his black little eyes. Pip trotted to the door and started whining. Then she ran back and scratched at my leg again.

  Finally, with a sigh, I rose.

  “Okay, you win. What is it, girl?”

  When I opened the door, she ran out. I sighed. Running upstairs, I grabbed a raincoat and then set out behind Pip. As soon as she saw me, she took off, setting off into an unfamiliar patch of trees.

  “Pip!” I yelled soon after, but already she was just a whitish blur at the edge of the rain.

  As I ran after her, cold raindrops slapped across my hands and face. But I didn’t slow down. I was starting to have a really bad feeling about this.

  The forest was a nearly impenetrable black. Several times I realized I was about to run into a tree only moments before actually doing so. Everything seemed to want to stop me. The branches all extended out at me, the shrubs snagged on my pants and jacket, the tree roots angled out when I least expected them, and the rain dashed against my face with increasing intensity.

  But there was a black hole inside of me, blacker than this night, colder than this rain, worse than anything Mother Nature could throw at me. It was the possibility of losing her, of never again seeing that crinkled, laughing face, those dancing, vibrant blue eyes, that sprinkle of freckles on her nose.

  No, I would run as long as it took, venture on as far as I needed. Anything to get to Alice, to bring her back to me. My legs plodded on, becoming increasingly numb and as foreign to me as sticks, but there would be no stopping. I had to find her.

  Finally, when my legs had just about given out, when my breath had started coming out in gasps, I came upon her. Pip. She was whining, pawing at something in the grass. Something so black it almost merged with the ground. A curled-up ball of a person. One series of shivers. Alice.

  Immediately, I picked her up and pressed her to me. I took off my coat and shirt and threw them over her body.

  Her eyes were closed.

  “Alice? Alice?”

  Her eyelashes fluttered, but her eyes stayed closed.

  I picked her up and started to run, carrying her limp body. Pip galloped on ahead, the light at the end of my dark forest tunnel. She knew the way; she’d show me the way home. I’d make it—I had to. Somehow, carrying Alice, as freezing as I was, I felt light, airy. Everything was numb, so maybe that was why it was easier. I wanted to kiss her, but it could wait.

  She had to be all right.

  My legs flew on, and my only thoughts were to go faster, to throw my legs ahead farther, to not stop for a second. I had Alice in my arms, and she was still shivering, but she was there. I couldn’t lose her, not now. As I ran, I knew only this: If I lost her, everything would be lost.

  Pip was always just out of sight, waiting for me around the latest mass of trees, the single flash of light in this forest of black. Ever running, ever chasing, I followed without expecting to stop, without needing to. As long as I had to run to keep Alice alive, I would. Then, finally, the white was joined by less black. The cabin. I was there.

  Inside, Alice and I were one shiver, but I couldn’t stop walking now. I carried her upstairs, put her in my bed, and wrapped her in every blanket I had. After a minute, her shivers stopped and she fell into a restless sort of breathing. She was okay. I lay down beside her, closed my eyes, and thanked my lucky stars.

  I awoke to her soft breath. Tickling my lips, it smelled like vanilla. When I opened my eyes, hers were closed. She was smiling slightly.

  “Alice?” I said.

  She didn’t stir. Light was slanting in through the window. My limbs were still numb and achy.

  So I lay there, watching that soft breath slip in and out of those parted lips. I didn’t know how long I lay there, only that, at some poi
nt, with one eye squinting open, she asked, “What are you doing?”

  Sitting up and glancing away, I said, “Nothing.”

  Alice only gave a sleepy nod and pushed herself upright beside me. Her lids still half-lowered with sleepiness, she brushed her fingers across mine.

  “Your hand…”

  To her inquisitive glance, I gave a flippant nod. When her drowsy smile fell, with a sigh, I told her the story.

  “One day when I was a kid, I acted up. My dad got really angry at me and smashed my hand into the wall. I had to go to the ER afterward. He told them I fell.”

  Now her drowsy smile was a full-on expression of horror. Her eyes filled with tears, Alice took my scarred hand and ran her fingers across it once more.

  “Jake, I…I had no idea. I’m so sorry.”

  I withdrew my fingers and got out of bed.

  “Yeah. I guess this fits your hard life expectations better, doesn’t it?”

  Alice winced as if she had been struck, and I made for the door. In the doorway, I paused.

  “Want to play Guess Who?”

  “What?”

  I turned to see Alice’s face as puzzled as her voice had sounded.

  I addressed my answer to the slant of light falling on the floor.

  “You know, the board game thing. Tom—one of my weird-ass friends—left it here. We like to get really drunk and play it.”

  To her still-confused look, I continued. “You can play it sober, too, though. We can—if you want. I’ll make some breakfast. Might have some instant coffee left too if you’re okay with it black.”

  She nodded slowly.

  “All right. Why not? And yeah, I’m starving.”

  I escaped to get the supplies. I had enough coffee left for exactly two mugs, and there was some old but still good peanut butter to put on the last two pieces of bread I toasted. I found the game stashed away in my kitchen cupboard among strange bowls and stranger books I didn’t remember buying.

  I carried everything upstairs, and when I got to my room, Alice was standing. She looked at me in surprise.

  “Oh, so…you wanted to play here then?”

  I shrugged.

  “I just thought you might be tired since…you know…”

  She blushed, and more words spilled out of my mouth.

  “Alice, last night, I…”

  She shook her head, refusing to look me in the eye.

  “I was an idiot, running out there like that into the storm. I’m lucky I didn’t die of hypothermia or something. Thank you.”

  She still wasn’t looking at me as she said it. I put the plate, mugs, and game on the bedside table, then stepped forward and put my hand on hers.

  “It was my fault; I shouldn’t have said what I did. I’m sorry. I have a knack for pushing people away, especially when…”

  Her eyes met mine. “Especially when what?”

  I didn’t answer her. Instead, I sat on the floor and slapped the box down in front of me. She joined me on the floor, and I handed her a mug of coffee and a piece of peanut butter toast. Then we both ate and drank in silence.

  After our sad little breakfast, she asked, “So, are we gonna play or what?”

  It didn’t take long to set up the game; I handed out the two playing boards, and we picked out our cards. I got ‘Arnold’—a card showing a red-haired man with purple glasses and a peculiar, unsettling smile, and she got some other person I had to guess. And so we did, narrowing each other’s person down by gender, skin color, hair, and eyes until she guessed “Arnold” and whooped with glee at her right answer.

  But as she sat there laughing at my furious loser’s scowl, something happened. Her voice cracked, as if she had remembered something. As if something was lurking inside her, preventing her from being happy.

  “I don’t know why I didn’t run. Back there in the bank,” she said.

  I said nothing, because that was the right answer this time.

  “Another game?” I asked after a minute. She nodded and then proceeded to beat me a second, third and fourth time.

  “Be careful,” I warned as she proceeded to taunt me with her card.

  “Or what?” she asked, her victorious grin still wide.

  “Or this,” I said, standing up.

  Chapter Eleven

  Alice

  He picked me up and, as I squealed protests, tossed me onto the bed. Back and forth we shoved each other, laughing, swearing, tossing, and turning. Until, finally, I flopped back, curled myself into a ball, and faced the corner of his small bedroom.

  I felt him do the same beside me, our legs touching just the slightest.

  Once again, I was in the same position as before, wondering if he was going to touch me, what he was going to do to me, what I wanted him to do to me.

  “I think I know why you didn’t run,” he said after a minute.

  I said nothing.

  “I think it’s the same reason I had to save you,” he said softly.

  His fingers laced with mine, and with his other hand, he turned my face to him.

  “You’ve really messed things up, princess,” he said even more softly, his lips lowering to meet mine.

  And then we were back where we had been before: his impatient fingers running over my willing body, unzipping his sweatshirt, sliding it over my exposed skin.

  His breath was hot in my ear as he murmured, “I’ve wanted you—”

  “Since the moment I saw you,” I finished for him, reaching for his crotch to see just how much he meant it.

  His dick was hard. But his touch was soft, stroking up and down my sides, the pressure building gradually until he grabbed me and, both of his hands on my ass, lifted me to his erection.

  I wrapped both legs around him as our lips enmeshed and his cock rubbed against my pussy.

  “Why can’t you just…”

  He paused and, pulling his lips away from mine, asked, “What was that?”

  I only shook my head, so he pressed his dick against me harder.

  “What was that?” he asked again.

  I moved my lips to his ear and, licking and sucking, moaned, “Let me go.”

  Grabbing me and tossing me onto my back, he lunged forward and shoved his hand down my sweatpants. His fingers toyed with my clit.

  “Is that what you really want?” he asked with a cruel smile.

  I could only moan as a response as his fingers slid up and pulled off the sweats.

  “Nice panties, princess.”

  It was a joke; I hadn’t worn any for the past day since I didn’t have any clean clothes to change into.

  “If I didn’t know any better, I would say that you wanted to fuck me.”

  He slipped his hand back and gave my ass a loud “whack!”

  He took off my bra in one swift motion, leaving my lying completely naked before him. His gaze slid over me, down and up, down and up again.

  “Jesus, Alice,” he murmured.

  He grabbed my ass and I grabbed his shirt, the white cotton soft as I pulled it over his head, revealing his muscles. As he stroked me, my hands ran over the tattoos. Every time I saw them, I noticed more details, like how this green-bodied, red-fanged snake strangely somehow looked kind with its wide-open yellow eyes and a pink smile that was almost gentle.

  My hands followed the long trail of the snake, from its head in the center of his chest, to its body snaking down and disappearing under the band of his sweatpants. But now Jake’s tongue was probing my lips, parting them and slipping in farther, almost down my throat, acting out what his fingers wanted to do as they probed my other lips.

  “Fuck, you’re wet,” he said, inserting two of his fingers easily.

  I could only let out a low moan as he pushed his fingers inside me and, with his other hand, grabbed my breast, moving in the same slow, torturous rhythm. Now his mouth was locked on my neck, sucking in the same slow-building rhythm that was turning my entire body into one throb of want. My hands moved frantically and yanked
down his sweatpants until he was as naked as I was.

  His cock rising to meet me, he slipped out his fingers, flipped me around, and slapped my ass again, harder this time.

  “Who said you could do that?” he hissed in my ear, and I shoved my ass up in response.

  “Please,” I moaned, but he only pressed my face to the bed with his hand.

  Then, pressing his dick between my ass cheeks from behind, he growled into my neck. “I’ll fuck you when I want to, and not a second before.”

  I tried to twist around, but he held both my arms down. Then, running a finger from the top of my head, down the length of my back, and in between my ass cheeks, he probed my pussy from behind, sticking in just the tip of his finger.

  “So wet. So very wet, princess.”

  He stuck his finger in farther and, as I quivered, asked, “What would you do right now to get fucked?”

  He slid his finger out and stepped back. I got up, turned around, and took him in: his glittering eyes, parted lips, every inch of him concentrated on the unbearably wet, throbbing slit between my legs. As I kneeled down before him, he put his hand on my shoulder.

  His cock was thick, riddled with veins that seemed to match his tattoos. When I put my tongue to it, his hand moved to my head. I ran my tongue all over it, up and down and around again, as if it was a Popsicle I had to get every taste of. I slid the tip of his dick over my lips and, as his hand tightened in my hair, shoved it between them. Jake let out a low groan of pleasure as I took him into my mouth, down all the way to the base, when the tip of his dick rammed the back of my throat.

  Jake’s hand was clasping and unclasping my hair, urging me on, though I needed no urging. I wanted him, this; I wanted the length of him in me. And so, as I slid up and down, my tongue twirling along to my own impatient rhythm, I cupped his balls, opening my mouth farther to take him deeper.

  He groaned, and I did it again. I gave it to him in long, torturous, tongue-flicking sucks. Over and over and over again, as his hand gripped my hair, urging me on—faster, harder, deeper. Soon his breathing was shallow. I was so wet it could have been me who was getting sucked off. I was cupping his balls and he was groaning, pulling on my hair with pleasure. Suddenly, his half-lidded eyes opened wide.