Raven smiled at that. She should have been shocked at the audacity of a submissive girl questioning a domme, but the girl’s naiveté showed charming honesty. Raven clicked “reply” and placed her hands over the keyboard.
Dear Alena,
While any healthy relationship includes sex, rest assured. I have no desire to besmirch your maidenly honor. You would be expected to obey and strive to do your best in all things, but I would confine my discipline to one day per week. The other six days would be yours to spend as you wish.
Please tell me more about your current situation and your employment. Are you in an occupation that requires discretion? Have you experienced any kind of spanking, even in childhood? I note that your application says “none,” but I’d like you to clarify.
I live in the old area of Ann Arbor, in between the university and river. I shall send a car for you this Friday afternoon. Please prepare yourself by two o’clock and bring with you an overnight bag, including a full change of clothing. For this first time, I will not require a dress code.
Raven propped her chin in her hands, re-reading her message. Friendly but authoritative. Instinct told her that Alena would either disappear or gush at being chosen.
As your first assignment, you will write an essay describing your favorite disciplinary fantasy and how you imagine the audition will be conducted.
In the event you pass your audition, we will discuss details of this arrangement. Please bring all relevant financial paperwork.
My driver will call for you at two o’clock sharp. Do not keep him waiting.
Raven
Raven hit the “send” button and sat back in her chair. Whether Alena proved suitable remained to be seen, but the prospect lifted her heart. She surveyed the meticulously decorated office and hallway, each item chosen by her mother in conjunction with a team of interior designers. Fox Run had never been meant to house only one. Even if it were just one day per week, she longed to share her home with another.
Chapter Three
“Yes! Yes! Finally!” Alena threw her fists upward, punching the air while wriggling in her swivel chair. “Two K!” After a long, difficult drought of failing to produce more than a few hundred words at a time, her newest scene had clicked. For the first time in ages, her fingers flew over the keyboard and her heart raced in anticipation of the words to follow. “Hurrah!”
She jumped up and trotted into her kitchen, meaning to celebrate with a scoop or two of ice cream. When she opened the freezer door, however, glistening ice flakes and a lone bag of mixed frozen vegetables greeted her. Time to defrost the freezer, or at least to fill it. She debated heading to the store to pick up a carton, but she paused. After that tax bill, could she afford anything non-essential? Already she wasn’t sure how she would pay the internet bill, let alone rent.
But I’ll have a sugar mama. Lorelei said Raven would be good.
Alena reconsidered. If Raven were good, she must have a line of potential players. She would want someone more experienced or who wanted all of the edgy types of play Alena couldn’t understand. Or, worse, the “arrangement” was a way to get sex, nothing more.
Would giving sex be that bad? If she had to choose between eating and, well...
Alena shook her head. See, this was where giddiness got her. It was time to get back to work. If she wanted her novel finished, she had to stay on track. Already, even with this morning’s success, she lagged behind her weekly goals.
She settled for a glass of filtered water instead of the wished-for ice cream, returned to her desk, and clicked on her email. When she saw the reply from Raven, she sloshed cold water into her lap. “Maidenly honor?” Who talked like that in the twenty-first century? Still, she breathed a sigh of relief. Someone who talked about maidenly honor would not turn into a rapist, or at least she hoped not. “Obey?” That did seem to be the keyword in the relationships on Kinklife, something Alena had learned meant dominance and submission. She had talked with scores of people before understanding she aligned with the submission side of the equation. “Obey,” however, sounded rather different when it came from a flesh-and-blood person who lived, from what Alena could tell, a scant twenty or thirty minutes away. She blushed at the mention of spanking. Raven would think her a child or a prude, with no experience to speak of. But a dress code? First time? Overnight bag?
Alena set down her glass and dabbed at her wet pants with the closest available item. It took several misfires before realizing the tissue box was not best for the task. She rolled her eyes at her mistake and pulled out a few tissues from the waterlogged box. Should she reply? Or was the entire situation too far-fetched?
Before she could talk herself out of it, she typed her answer.
Dear Raven,
Thank you for your reply. I must admit I am surprised to hear from you. I thought you might want someone with more experience. No, I’m sorry, but I have never had any kind of spanking. I hope you don’t mind.
I am an author and self-employed, so I don’t need to worry about discretion. At least, I work from home and don’t have colleagues who would be upset.
I hope you don’t mind my asking, but why will I need an overnight bag? And is it all right if I drive myself, rather than being picked up? I don’t want to sound rude, but this makes me a bit nervous. I would love to audition and am glad you invited me, but I’d feel more comfortable if the first time I were on my own. Is that okay?
What kind of financial paperwork do you want to see? And, if I may ask, what would happen at the audition? Will it include spanking?
Thank you again.
Alena
She read her message one more time, hoping she didn’t sound needy or aggressive. Surely anyone would understand not wanting to get into a strange car? She checked her Kinklife account and found a message waiting from Lorelei.
Lorelei: How’d it go?
A1star: She wants me to audition on Saturday, but she’s sending a car...I am not getting into a car without knowing where it’s going!
Lorelei: *laughs* Did you tell her that?
A1star: Yes, but I think she’ll cancel.
Lorelei: Did you demand, or did you state your concerns respectfully?
That was Lorelei, kind but firm. Alena wished Lorelei lived across town instead of Raven.
A1star: Here, let me show you. This is what I wrote:
And is it all right if I drive myself, rather than being picked up? I don’t want to sound rude, but this makes me a bit nervous. I would love to audition and am glad you invited me, but I’d feel more comfortable if the first time I were on my own. Is that okay?
Lorelei: Sounds perfect. I can’t imagine anyone having a problem with that, although I do pick up my girls when they fly into Orlando.
A1star: I wish that could be me!
Lorelei: *grin* Maybe not. I’d bust your backside for all the times you’re out late and think you can go without sleep.
A1star: *giggle* But you love me.
Lorelei: Yes, I do, but loving you means spanking you. I hope Raven turns out to be good for you. You need regular spankings to stay in line.
Alena squirmed in her chair, blushing. She never knew whether Lorelei was teasing or serious, although the part about late nights was all too true.
A1star: Look, the whole point of self-employment is getting to set my own hours. I’m a big girl, after all.
Lorelei: Won’t be so big once you get a nice mistress to take care of you. I’d love to put you into the corner, nose to the wall as you display your freshly spanked bottom.
A1star: Yikes! Okay, I’m signing off. Going to eat Brussels sprouts and floss and fold laundry or something. You are evil!
Lorelei: *laughing* Good luck! Let me know how it goes. And if Raven turns out to be as good as Mistress Midnight promised, tell her Mistress Lorelei has many interesting bits of information about your behavior.
Oh, horrors! Alena shut off her computer and escaped to the bathroom. She had longed for this, hadn’t
she? She wanted her dreams to come true, but Lorelei’s words seemed like a warning. What if Raven turned out to be more than she could handle? Then again, what did Alena have to lose?
She went back into her office. A new email message. Knowing already who had sent it, she clicked it open.
Dear Alena,
Smart girl. I am pleased to see you have some common sense. I propose three things:
First, you will find attached the names and contact information of three prominent lifestyle players who can vouch for me. I would have included Mistress Midnight, but you already mentioned her. Ms. Lila Starr may take a few days to get back to you, as she is out of the country on a business trip.
Second, I am listing my home address and phone number. I strongly suggest you never give this information out on the internet, but I have done some investigating of my own. From everything I can gather, you are a well-liked and well-respected young lady.
Third, while I will not indulge your wish to drive yourself to my home, I understand your concern for safety. I propose a compromise. I will allow you to retain custody of your cell phone for your first visit, and I will give you, upfront, the cash equivalent of a taxi fare back to your home. There are two local cab services, and both can have a car waiting for you within ten minutes.
As to the details of the audition, you will have to wait and see. For financial paperwork, whatever you feel will give an accurate reflection of your income, assets, and debts. Perhaps your latest tax return?
Sincerely,
Raven
Alena stared at the message, elation and worry competing for prominence in her mind. Raven sounded so sane. So down-to-earth, so practical, and so nice. “Young lady?” Alena laughed. At twenty-nine, she was hardly a young lady. She pictured Raven as a graying woman in her sixties or perhaps even seventies, hobbling around the house with a cane. Ouch, a cane? Maybe not. She grinned at herself for getting silly. With a rush of excitement, she ignored the references and sent her reply.
Dear Raven,
It sounds great. My address is 1394 East Vanilla Lane (no joke!). I can’t wait to meet you on Saturday.
Alena
It was done. Crazy or not, she would get a sugar mama.
Chapter Four
Raven pushed aside the hangers in her closet, surveying each outfit. Should she dress to impress, or should she welcome Alena with a more modest ensemble? Would it be better to wear something loose and flowing, or should she try to look more severe?
Fussbudget. You hated when Mother picked your clothes.
That was different, though. Mother had insisted on frilly, dainty, little-girl clothes that lengthened Raven’s too-tall frame and emphasized her awkward angles. She had hoped her five feet and nine inches would help her find a job in the fashion world, but instead pant legs flapped around her ankles and she had to tug her shirt cuffs over wrist bones. Raven wanted lean, simple dark clothes that turned her height into an asset.
Still, she kept every outfit Mother had chosen for her—or, more accurately, every dress. Each one was chosen with impeccable taste for a petite daughter with dancer proportions, not a towering giant. The pintucks, pleats, frills, laces, and Peter Pan collars lurked in the back of Raven’s closet, a reminder of the woman who chose them and wanted a different kind of daughter.
Turning away, Raven grabbed a hanger at random and laid the items one at a time onto her bed. Black. An appropriate choice, perhaps, for a meeting marked by serious consideration on both sides. The private investigator she’d hired came back with glowing reports on Alena, but paperwork couldn’t account for chemistry.
Raven slipped the stretchy tank top over her head and wriggled into the boot-cut slacks. Soft and welcoming, they wrapped her in comfort. She slid the lightweight cardigan on and tied the sash behind her back. She stuck her hands into the pockets, eyeing herself in the side mirror. With her favorite pair of high-heeled dark brown leather boots, she’d be set. Simple. Classic. Understated but not frumpy.
Frumpy? Did twenty-nine-year-olds consider a forty-year-old frumpy? Or did the outfit speak of trying too hard? Not hard enough? She ran her hand over the closetful of hangers once more, debating the checkered jumper or the tan skirt with its white blouse.
Black. When in doubt, go with black. Subtle but classy, approachable but not informal.
Raven picked up the ivory hairbrush, a gift from her mother for her wedding, and stroked back locks of hair as dark as her eponym. Christened Catalina Raven in a nod to Father’s distant Spanish ancestors and Mother’s fondness for depressing poetry, she went by Catalina until classmates tormented her about varieties of salad dressing. She became Raven then, Raven of the jet-black hair that showed gray before her twenty-eighth birthday.
She kept the hair in a pixie cut for most of her adolescence, but after her parents’ death it became too much trouble to visit the hairdresser every six weeks. She let her hair grow out for almost six months before realizing the sleek cut had morphed into frizzy static. Her hair, at least, refused to be tamed. Over the years, she’d let the hair grow a bit longer at a time. By now, the silky curtain reached her shoulders. If the top of her head gleamed with silver strands amidst the black ones, she chose not to see.
Raven brought the bristles down in swift, sure strokes before sliding a few plain black bobby pins on either side. She grinned into the mirror, grimaced, and turned on the discreet smile neither too forward nor too reserved. Mother had made her practice for hours until she could do it without looking.
“Miss Raven?” Clara entered and began folding her jeans and shirt. “Peter is arriving with Miss Alena. Where would you like to receive her?”
Raven considered, as if she hadn’t planned out the entrance in exquisite detail since receiving Alena’s confirmation email. “Take her jacket, if she has one, and let her freshen up in the powder room if she wishes. Give her the envelope as well, but instruct her not to open it.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Clara tucked the clothes under her arm and headed down the wooden stairs.
Raven dabbed a bit of clear powder onto her nose and cheeks before inspecting herself top to toe. She looked neat, quiet, and in possession of calm power, or at least the best semblance she could manage. When she crossed the hallway toward the spiral staircase, the front door opened and Clara’s voice carried upward.
“Welcome, Miss Alena. Miss Raven said to freshen up here, and to give you this.”
A quick, tumbling voice lilted on every other syllable. “For me? But she doesn’t have to—“
For the first time in her life, Raven wished she were taller. She rose onto tiptoes to peek at the girl who captured her interest, but Alena had disappeared. Should the Lady of the House prepare for a greeting in the sitting room, or should she dispense with ceremony in favor of a quicker meeting? As she descended one step at a time while gliding her hand along the bannister, Raven mulled over her options. Did she want to impress on Alena her authority, or should she reassure a girl who must be nervous?
Before Raven could decide, she arrived at the foot of the staircase and the door burst open. Wide, dark brown eyes peered out from a heart-shaped face and a dainty figure dressed in the wrong kind of clothes for her body. Instead of the delicate touches that would accentuate her gentle curves, Alena had put on a boyish three-quarter-length filmy nylon scoop neck top and paired it with a black vest consisting of a metal zipper and cap sleeves. The shimmery gold-washed short skirt barely skated past her bottom, and royal blue leggings clashed with bare feet shoved into clogs.
The look was wrong for her, but Alena managed to make it seem eccentric rather than ridiculous. Raven sighed at the silver zipper tag dangling at the middle of her bosom. How she used to long for a small figure, petite enough to do justice to Mother’s idea of fashion! Probably, this girl wished to wear the long, lean outfits Raven had adopted out of necessity.
“R-R-Raven,” Alena said, twitching her shoulder before holding out her hand. She was nervous. “Uh...nice to meet you
.”
Raven disliked her girls to shake hands as equals, but Alena was not her girl. Not yet. She extended her own hand and cupped thumb and fingers around Alena’s hand. “Did Clara give you the envelope?”
Alena nodded. “It’s okay. I’m sure everything will be fine. I didn’t even call your references. You seemed so—”
Halfway into the sitting room, Raven turned around in dismay. “You did not follow my instructions?”
Alena shrank into herself, licking her lips. “But we talked, and you’re fine, and Mistress Midnight...”
Raven sighed. Alena had said she was new, after all. “In the future, please keep this in mind. When I take the time to give you information and instructions, you will be so good as to comply.”
Alena stuck her hands into the pockets of her skirt, perhaps searching for the paper containing her fare home.
“Do you wish to call a cab?”
She blushed, taking her hands out of the pockets and crossing arms over her chest. “No. Um. No, thank you.”
“Did you bring your cell phone, at least?”
She nodded and held up a battered black flip phone. It might have cost twelve dollars three years ago.
“Does it even work?”
Alena stammered, her cheeks growing pink. “Y-y-yes. It’s pay as you go. It’s a lot cheaper, and I don’t use a lot of minutes, anyway.”
Raven gave a smile, wondering what would put her guest at ease. “Shall we sit down?” She indicated the cozy red armchair across the room. It would be one of the few times Alena sat in comfort, if she returned. Would talk of discipline scare her off?
“Yes, please. Thank you.” She pressed her knees together, squirming and adjusting her ankles until her skirt lay flat. “Um. Hi.”
Raven laughed, giving Alena credit for initiative. In her place, Raven would have been too scared to speak first. “Hi, Alena. Let’s start with questions. What would you like to ask me?”
As Raven expected, the girl blinked in confusion. While Alena had been urged several times to prepare questions, they tended to fade when face to face with the unknown.
Raven's Girl- Promise Page 2
