Lessons in Love

by Kathryn R. Blake

  "I know."

  "So, why the attack? What's upset you?"

  She gave another shrug. "I was in the zone, listening to music, and you come in when I am exposed and most vulnerable. Your unexpected appearance struck me like another invasion of privacy, as if it didn't matter to you whether I wanted you to see me that way or not. It was the yellow room all over again, and the memory made me angry."

  Straightening, he gave a quick nod. "Thank you for being honest. I never intended to abuse your trust or override your wishes in this. Upsetting you was the last thing I sought. In fact, I didn't think you'd even realize I was here."

  Pam drew her knees up to her chest. "Somehow, that sounds even worse. Slip in for a swift peek and sneak out again with no one the wiser."

  "I'm sorry if I embarrassed you," he replied quietly, and Pam blinked. The man didn't apologize often, and he appeared truly contrite. "Would you prefer I leave?" he asked when she remained silent.

  "A little late to start practicing proper etiquette now, don't you think? That's sort of like putting up storm shutters after the hurricane shattered all your windows. What's the point?"

  His lips gave a slight twitch. "Would you like to call an end to your spa day? I'll step outside while you get dressed, then take you to lunch."

  "I don't know. How much is left for her to do?" she asked, not wanting to touch herself and thinking he'd seen enough to tell.

  This time, he chuckled openly. "I only managed a quick peek before you popped up like a spitting-mad jack-in-the-box, but I'd say you have ten more minutes before you're finished."

  She'd gone this far; there was no point in stopping now. "I'll finish."

  He gave a nod. "I'll let Cindy know."

  The moment he turned to leave, Pam said, "Would you come back and stay with me?"

  His expression reflected his surprise. "You want me to stay?"

  "Yeah. But at the top end this time. You can help distract me."

  "That would be my pleasure."

  Gripping the sheet beneath her elbows to make sure it didn't slip, Pam replaced her mask and earphones and lay back again.

  * * *

  The next thing she knew, the mask and headphones were being removed.

  "If I'm to be tasked with supplying a distraction, I believe you need to be able to see as well as hear me. Don't you?"

  Pam smiled. "I'm sure you have many ways of distracting me that involve neither my eyes nor ears, sir."

  "True," he admitted with a slight nod. "Though I doubt you would want me to exercise those particular options when we aren't alone."

  Heat infused Pam's cheeks as she stared at him. "Point taken. All right, I shall listen to you rather than the soothing music. So, my wizard of distractions, what have you to say to me?"

  He settled in a chair near her head and leaned forward. "That I find you incredibly sexy, lying there with your legs spread wide in invitation. I'm getting hard just thinking about all the things I would like to do to and with you."

  "Rob!" Pam whispered, but her protest was promptly silenced by his lips.

  "Did it suddenly get awfully warm in here?" Cindy asked in a squeaky voice.

  Pam pushed Rob back. "Now you've embarrassed my sugarista as well. Perhaps asking you to remain was a mistake."

  "How much longer do you think you'll be, Cindy?"

  "I'd say this is the last strip for this area, then I'll need Pam to turn on her side."

  Not liking the sound of that, Pam raised her head. "On my side? Why?"

  Cindy glanced at Rob, so Pam switched her attention to him as well.

  "Women often have hairs surrounding their rear entrance. Cindy will remove those for you as well."

  Pam shook her head, but spoke to Cindy. "No. That's not necessary."

  "It's part of the service, but I'll leave it up to you and Mr. Peterson to decide."

  Pam put her head back down but glared at Rob. "You do realize this is not the most comfortable procedure you could recommend, don't you?"

  "Yes, but it comes with a lot of aftercare that I shall very much enjoy providing."

  "Yeah? What sort of aftercare?"

  He leaned closer to whisper, "It involves making sure your lovely, nude female parts stay properly moisturized."

  Pam swallowed. "I'm sure that's something I—"

  "Okay, Pam, turn over on your right side for me, please."

  Rob rose to assist, though Pam could easily roll to her side without his help.

  "Good. Now I need—"

  Rob reached across to grasp Pam's leg and drew it toward her chest. Then, he reached for her left buttock and pulled to gently separate her two bottom cheeks.

  "Exactly. Yes. Thank you. You make an excellent assistant, Mr. Peterson. I think you may have missed out on a more pleasurable vocation."

  "Pleasurable for whom?" Pam muttered, tucking her hands beneath her chin.

  Rob smiled down at her. "For me, of course. I find this extremely pleasurable."

  When Pam groaned in answer, he bent down again to whisper, "Though I can think of a few things I'd enjoy doing even more."

  "Are you trying to make me blush?"

  "Yes. And, I can see I succeeded admirably. I also see you had Cindy leave a small triangle. Is that to help provide me direction?"

  Pam snorted. "Like you need it."

  "Okay, that's the last strip. After I do another cleansing spray and apply the coconut balm, I'll give you a list of instructions, even though Mr. Peterson is well aware of what you should and shouldn't do after a Brazilian. So what do you think, Pam?"

  Pam gazed up at Rob, who remained holding her open while Cindy applied the toner and moisturizer. "It didn't hurt as much as I thought it would, but it isn't something I would ever look forward to doing again, either."

  "I'd recommend you set up a regular schedule and make an appointment for a touch-up four to six weeks from today, if you wish to maintain it," Cindy suggested

  "That's not very long."

  "No, but the longer and fuller your hair grows, the more difficult it is to remove."

  "I suppose this is something you would prefer I continue doing?" Pam asked Rob, though she suspected she knew what his reply would be.

  "Give it a few days. I think you'll like the heightened sensitivity. If you think it's worthwhile then, yes. I'd recommend you make the appointments. Again, it's your choice."

  Though his answer didn't surprise her, exactly, she couldn't help but wonder if this was a service he offered for all his admins. He'd said he wasn't intimate with them, so she supposed not, and yet the man had enough practice to know what Cindy wanted without being told.

  When Cindy was through she shook Pam's hand. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Weston, and I hope you come back soon because you want to, not because you think you have to."

  "Thanks, Cindy. You were wonderfully patient with me."

  Rob gave Pam a quick kiss, said he'd wait for her outside, then departed with Cindy, giving Pam the opportunity to check out her new look in the mirror and get dressed in private.

  The inverted triangle Cindy left was neatly trimmed and did look a little like an arrow pointing the way. Though she'd been warned against touching herself too often to keep the exfoliated skin from getting infected, Pam couldn't help running her fingers between her legs as she basked in the delightful smoothness of her newly bared flesh. The area still tingled slightly, as if the sensitive nerves sought a protective covering. She slipped on her panties, thinking they would add back a layer of protection, but they aggravated the sensation rather than appeased it. She wasn't uncomfortable, simply more aware.

  Pam placed her hands over her face. She'd agreed to the Brazilian because Rob preferred bare over hair, but where did that leave her? She'd reported to him for less than a week, and she'd already changed her hair, clothes, even where she slept, and for what? Who was she now, and where would she be when he decided he wanted a new assistant?

  Straightening, she put on her cloth
es and gathered her belongings. Whatever she'd expected to happen today, this definitely had not made the list.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  With white paper coverings and wine bottle candle holders decorating each table, this restaurant appeared a lot more casual than the private club where they'd eaten dinner. Cozier, too. Rob selected a booth and suggested Pam slide in before he sat beside her, rather than across as he usually did. Pam realized why the moment his long fingers skimmed along her leg from right below her knee to a few inches above it.

  She stiffened as his teasing digits inched beneath the hem of her skirt. He'd been far more intimate with her before, but they'd been in a private room then. And, even though he kept his hand under the table, the fact he considered himself at liberty to grope her any way he wanted in public bothered her on a level she didn't quite understand. So, despite his having seen her laid out before him in all her glory less than an hour before, Pam grabbed her hem and yanked it down in an attempt to push him away. Except his hand didn't budge from its resting place.

  "Relax," he whispered, giving her thigh a light squeeze. "No one can see. Besides, they're much too occupied with their own situations to give any attention to ours, and I want to touch you."

  At that point a young waiter came over to introduce himself, so Pam clamped her legs together, effectively trapping Rob's right hand between them. He deftly opened his menu and requested a particular vintage of wine for himself, an iced tea for her, and an appetizer for them to share. If Joseph wondered why the gentleman used only one hand to manage the unwieldy menu, he gave no indication, merely a single nod before he left to fill Rob's order.

  "Well, that could have been embarrassing," Rob murmured before taking a sip of water, still making no effort to free his fingers from their confinement. Pam gave an unladylike snort as she parted her thighs to release him, but his hand remained where it was—as if it had every right to be there.

  "So, are you intending to spend our entire lunch hour with your hand between my legs?" Pam asked in a near whisper.

  The cad grinned at her, then. "At the moment, I'm being a gentleman and exercising great restraint against the temptation to show you exactly where my fingers would like to be at this moment. Would you care for a demonstration?"

  Pam's eyes widened at his silken threat; at the same time she grew moist, as if his words communicated some secret signal to her body. She was so totally over her head with this man. "No, sir. Not here, please."

  "And yet the thought arouses you, doesn't it?"

  Her cheeks flamed hot, whether due to embarrassment or his acute powers of deduction, she wasn't sure. "Please don't. I'd…."

  "You'd what?"

  She gazed at him. "This is all still very new to me, and a trifle overwhelming. I never expected the spa treatment to be quite that personal, nor did I imagine you would return to watch, and I'm feeling a little rocky right now."

  He removed his hand to wipe away the tears she hadn't realized she'd spilt.

  "Shh. I was only teasing, kitten. I'm sorry if my play upset you."

  She nodded, grateful when he reached for her fingers and gave them a squeeze before he returned his attention to the menu with both his hands above the table this time. And, yet, the area on her thigh where his palm had rested grew cold and empty when absent of his touch. A part of her enjoyed his teasing, perhaps even longed for it, while another part bristled at being so cavalierly played with in public. Realizing she couldn't make up her own mind, she began to wonder what plans the man at her side had in his mind for her.

  Once their appetizer was served and they started nibbling on the crispy calamari he'd ordered, the imaginary teeter-totter Pam stood on leveled out to even ground. Robert Peterson was a dangerous man. Oh, she couldn't conceive he would ever harm her, but he could irrevocably change who she was and what she believed.

  "May I ask you a question?"

  He glanced at her. "Of course. You may ask me anything you wish."

  "Do you think keeping secrets is equal to lying?"

  A frown developed between his eyebrows. "Why do you ask?"

  Pam shrugged. "You already know a lot about me, but I hardly know anything about you. So, I'd like to understand if you are constrained by the same rules of honesty I am."

  "The short response is yes. I mean it would be just as wrong for me to lie to you as it would be for you to lie to me. So, I am bound by an equitable code of integrity, if not the same one, I'd say."

  "Unconditional honesty?"

  "Ah. Let me put it this way. I will answer any question you ask, provided that my response does not violate a confidence or cause someone distress."

  "So, there are questions you will refuse to answer?"

  "Yes."

  "Can the same discretion apply to me?"

  "Unless you can provide me with a valid reason I will accept, I'd have to say no. In certain respects, our relationship is unequal, because I am the boss, and I set the conditions. However, I'm interested in knowing what prompted this particular line of questioning today."

  Frowning at him, she muttered, "You'd really pull the boss card when we're talking about guidelines?"

  "Kitten, I'll never hesitate to pull the boss card, if I need to. As long as you're in my employ, I consider it a perk. So, what's prompted your sudden interest in whether I am also bound by the rules I give you."

  "Idle curiosity, I guess," she replied, dipping a small ring of squid into the marinara sauce that accompanied it.

  "No, I don't believe your question was the least bit idle. There's something specific you're seeking to learn. A secret you think I'm keeping. So, why don't you ask me outright?"

  "All right." She turned in her seat to face him. "I want you to tell me what is secreted behind that red door." He insisted she disclose all, so now she would see if he would be as forthcoming with her.

  He opened his mouth then shut it again. Finally, he replied, "That would be one of those questions I'd decline to answer."

  "Why?"

  "Because revealing what's in that room would violate a confidence. Besides, its contents are something you need to see and experience, and you're not ready for that, yet."

  His response caused a knot of tension to grow in Pam's stomach as a vague sense of unease encompassed her. "What do you mean I'm not ready, yet?" she asked, before popping the appetizer into her mouth and staring back at him.

  His lips curved into a wry grin. "You just admitted to being a bit rocky about becoming more intimate with me, when all I did was put my hand on your thigh. You aren't ready for me to explain what I keep in that room and why."

  The waiter brought their lunch, so Pam clamped her jaw shut until he left then asked in a whisper, "Is it kinky sex stuff?"

  "Eat your food," he responded in a similar whisper.

  "You're not going to tell me, are you?" she asked aloud.

  "I believe we've already established that. So, I suggest you eat, before I decide you need to be fed again."

  Her blush intensifying, Pam picked up her knife and fork and sliced into the tender chicken, though a small part of her resented every mouthful.

  After lunch, Rob escorted her to Executive Fashions where they sorted through fancy lace teddies and sexy satin underthings she'd never think of buying much less wearing on her own. Vastly out of place and emotionally off balance, she withdrew into herself, replying in monosyllables to any question posed to her. Rob frowned at her occasionally but didn't comment until one of the women asked her which hosiery she preferred and she shrugged in response. She couldn't tell the difference between them. How was she supposed to judge?

  "Would you ladies please excuse us for a moment?" he said, steering Pam toward a private room where he placed both hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him. "All right, out with it. You've been in a funk since lunch. What's going on?"

  Pam met his gaze without flinching. "Nothing, sir." She made sure to stress the title in a way that made it obvious she recognized he
r true place.

  His fingers tightened slightly. "I can't decide whether I should kiss you or spank you out of this mood."

  "I'm sure you'll make up your mind eventually."

  "Right. I will." Drawing her close he bent his head and kissed her until her knees started to tremble then pulled her into his arms and hugged her.

  "What's wrong, kitten?"

  Pam choked back a sob. "Nothing. Everything. I no longer know where I belong. I'm no longer your assistant, and yet I live in your home. You introduced me to a standard of living I could never afford and will never experience again. I'm treated by your staff as though I'm a valued guest, while you made it quite clear I should not consider myself a guest. You spanked me almost as hard my stepfather beat me with his belt, but I not only don't resent you for it, I'm not even angry. If anything, I'm relieved you'll keep your word."

  "Then you treat me to a day at a spa where you stand and stare while they rip hair out of my privates as if my modesty is of no consequence to you. I'm no longer allowed privacy in anything I do. You insist I tell you my every thought, while you share next to nothing with me in return. What am I to you, Mr. Peterson, and what do you intend to do with me once you're through 'fixing' me?"

  "Was it my presence in the spa that caused all this doubt?"

  "I don't know. You're so out of my league, sir, that I feel a bit like Cinderella being swept away by the prince, except, in my fairytale, the prince keeps a secret room that I suspect contains items far more dangerous than anything I've seen or experienced so far, and that scares the hell out of me."

  "Not to belittle your feelings, but your experience, kitten, is nil. However, I promise, there is nothing in that room I would use on you unless you wanted me to," he assured quietly.

  "But don't you understand? That's what terrifies me. You make me desire things normal people disdain, not crave. You get me to agree to punishments and procedures I don't want, and yet make me grateful afterward. Perhaps I should go live with my mother. At least, with her, I know where I stand."

  "That would be a serious mistake, Pam."

  She shook her head. "No, Mr. Peterson. I believe my staying with you is the mistake. Let me go, please." He slowly dropped his arms, so she stepped back, swiped at her tears, and returned to the main display room where she attempted to smile at the ladies before she walked through the store and out the front door.