Tasting Candy

by Candy Quinn

  “You,” he said, hooking a finger at me, beckoning me into my manager’s office, which he commandeered on the spot for our impromptu meeting.

  Oh, how I loathed the man… though his gorgeous, dark good looks made it so hard to keep my anger up as he stood there behind the desk in his black suit and maroon tie, a light neatly trimmed layer of beard hair that was oh so fashionable.

  Though really, when was getting called into the boss’ office, being singled out, ever a good sign? I mentally went over everything I’d done that day, and I knew I was a good worker. Hell, it wasn’t that revenge didn’t come to mind once in a while, but I liked to think of myself as above that.

  More respectable.

  “Yes, sir?” I asked as he shut the door behind me, my hands awkwardly at my sides, brushing the edge of the black dress he insisted we all wear.

  It was so rare that I actually saw the man himself, always jet setting around the world on business trips I’m sure. Probably shutting down more factories like my father’s, and shipping them off to the third world.

  “Interested in a substantial raise?” he asked me, sliding his hands into his pockets as he looked me over. His well-tailored suit did wonders at showing off his cut physique, and so without giving away anything at all I could still imagine the ripped muscles beneath his suit.

  That just made me hate him more, though, but in that weird way that wasn’t comfortable. How could someone be rich and gorgeous and still be so damned cruel?

  It wasn’t fair.

  It especially wasn’t fair how my body responded to the thought of a raise, my blue eyes going to his. I’m sure they were sparkling, and my spine was a lot straighter.

  “Yes,” I answered. Best keep it simple with a guy like him, right?

  He wet his lips, taking his time as he inspected me like another of his possessions.

  “My previous maid has retired, I need someone to keep up the maintenance of my condo. It’s a full time gig, especially since I’m gone for such long stretches. It’ll require moving into the maid suite and being on call 24/7, but your pay will be doubled,” he said with such curt efficiency.

  My head reeled from the prospect, but before I had a moment to even ponder it, he asked.

  “Interested?”

  I just stared for a second. He was gone, like, all the time, so why did he even need a maid? And what did he mean being on call 24/7? In case there was an emergency dusting?

  Then the second part of his statement finally sunk into my thick skull and I was nodding.

  Double pay?

  I’d give up my life for that, easily enough.

  “Very good,” he said and reached into his coat to pull out a small card and slide it across the table to me. “This is my address, and on the back is the time and location of a fitting appointment, for your new uniform. Be there on time. I don’t wish to drag this process out any more than necessary,” he said in that firm, authoritative voice of his.

  New uniform?

  Who’s even going to see me in his condo?

  I ran my fingers through my bleached hair as I reached out for the card, looking it over. “When do I have to move in by?”

  Not like the moving part would be that hard. I had to move around a lot the last three years and pruned almost everything down to the necessities.

  “Immediately,” he said as he began to walk around the table, studying me. “But you won’t start work until your uniform arrives.”

  He pulled open the door and stood aside, waiting for me to leave.

  “What are you waiting for? That fitting appointment is…” he checked his watch, “in just twenty minutes.”

  Panic sank in then, but I nodded and rushed off.

  Ready to start my new life as a domestic servant…

  The fitting was not what I was expecting. It wasn’t some dreary sort of office-oriented uniform dispensary or something, but rather a swanky, upper scale clothing store. Where the shirts cost more than I made in a year!

  It almost made me turn on my heel and run right out until I remembered I wasn’t the one paying.

  The older gentleman who fitted me was professional, albeit thorough and then… off I went.

  I went home, bagged up my things, told my family about the promotion — in as little detail as possible, sticking to the point about ‘double pay’ — then headed over to his penthouse condo overlooking the city. I wondered if rent was included. It better be, because I wasn’t prepared for just how swanky it was.

  I was so bowled over by it the vista before me, and the expensive furniture, that I missed the first few things his personal assistant said to me.

  “Are you getting all this?” he asked, looking at me, brow raised.

  “Sorry, what was that?” I said anxiously, brushing back my hair behind an ear.

  “Just follow me,” he said impatiently, and led me off to the right and down a round stairwell. He took me down to another level — there were apparently at least three! — and led me to a secluded section. My residence, it seemed.

  “Here’s your room,” he said, pushing open the door giving me a brief glimpse of the lovely but sparse area before he moved onto the next door. “Bathroom,” he indicated, then last, “kitchen and living area. There’s room for guests, but you can’t have any. Got that?” he said, but didn’t wait for the answer. “Good.”

  No guests? That was odd.

  I arched my brow, but he didn’t look like the kind of guy that wanted to deal with any of my questions. He was probably too busy handling all of my boss’ bullshit.

  I looked over the room again, though, and felt a strange sense of emptiness. It wasn’t what I’d expected, after seeing such a luxurious place, but I supposed servant’s quarters were never as nice as the Master’s.

  “How does he like things done? Can I speak to the last maid?”

  “No,” he said firmly, staring at me through his round glasses, the stick-thin man so severe looking he seemed to rival my boss, but without any of the good looks. “She’s moved back with her family and is not to be disturbed. If there are no more questions, you can relax in your new suite for the time being. Once your uniforms arrive, you’ll be expected to start cleaning up. Fetching groceries will also be your duty, you’ll find the list on the tablet in your closet. Make sure you do regular inventory checks on what’s in the kitchen. Understood?”

  It was really, really hard not to roll my eyes.

  Instead I smiled as I grit my teeth, trying to look pleasant.

  “I never got your name,” I said brightly.

  “Martin,” he said in a clipped tone of voice turning back around and leaving me there. “Good luck,” was all he said as he climbed those stairs briskly and vanished. Leaving me all alone in the spacious penthouse.

  I unpacked my things, which didn’t take as long as I expected, and then settled in for a long wait. Luckily, my living area came with just about every form of entertainment I could hope for, the smart TV had access to every streaming service imaginable, with a private computer desk, my own tablet and an expensive phone to boot! All with pre-made accounts intended just for me, with a sticky note that detailed my password and security details.

  Though I didn’t get long to relax, before a jarring buzz filled the air around me, and my new devices alerted me that it was someone at the front door. By the looks of the security feed that came through my tablet, it was a parcel delivery.

  I rushed on up to the door, since it was apparently my responsibility, and answered.

  “Hello!” I said a little breathless, having climbed the stairs more enthusiastically than I intended.

  “Here’s the clothing items Mr. Romy ordered,” he said, then held out a digital signing device. “Just jot your name here, ma’am,” the young fellow said before the transaction was quickly done.

  And I was left alone again.

  I took the package to my room and opened it. What lay inside shocked me! Oh, it was a uniform alright, several of them in fact
. But…

  I stared, and I knew my jaw was dropped, but I couldn’t help it. I felt embarrassed just looking at the package and I quickly shut the top of the box again.

  There had to be a mistake. The black dresses that ended just below my ass was one thing. I mean, he had a kink, obviously, but with a guy that rich how couldn’t he fetishize the power he had over people? Making them dress and act and talk like he wanted, as if we were all little puppets.

  But these outfits wouldn’t even give me that much coverage!

  I walked away from them, fuming! My brain working wildly as I tried to come to terms with what I’d signed on for. Maybe it wasn’t too late to go back to the office… though the more I thought of him, the less I figured he’d put up with one of his peons changing her mind.

  I wasn’t sure how much time passed with me on the couch, glancing back to my room where the outfits waited, but eventually my phone and tablet both warned me: the boss was due back in an hour, and it was expected I’d be there to greet him. For inspection.

  A shiver ran through me, of disgust and… secretly, a little titillation.

  Though the idea of getting dressed up in some skimpy maid outfit for the guy who fired my dad and put us all in the hole overwhelmed all else. I was thinking what I’d say to the man, about his nerve! When a call came in, it was Martin.

  “Has the package arrived yet?” he asked crisply, no pleasantries.

  “Uh, yes, but—”

  “Good. I’d suggest you get dressed and get ready. There’s several versions there, for different occasions. One for wearing in your leisure time, in case you get called to duty abruptly. It’s similar to the usual uniform, but more comfortable, relaxed,” he said with such calm, casual certainty.

  “Wait… I don’t think I can wear any of this,” I said, cutting him off.

  Silence took over for a while.

  “You’d best get over that quickly, miss,” he said to me. “If you wish to keep your job, I suggest you stuff your qualms in a sack. Otherwise, get out immediately and I’ll let him know he needs a replacement.”

  I went over to the box again, looking at them and feeling my hands tremble.

  Not only would I be out my new job, but I wouldn’t even have another job to go back to. And let me tell you, if anyone in town was hiring except the guy who fired my dad? I’d already be working there.

  “I’ll do it,” I said softly, a sigh upon my voice. Though Martin had hung up almost immediately upon my acceptance. It was clear I wouldn’t get a lot of sympathy from him. He was probably too busy busting his ass for Mr. Romy to care about anyone else.

  I squeezed myself into that outfit, just as I was ordered to. Though the stockings, heels and ridiculously-short miniskirt were a challenge, it was the top that snugly hugged my bosoms and made my cleavage bulge out that really was the toughest part. But I suffered it, because I had to, and made my way up to wait by the door for Mr. Romy’s arrival.

  He came home himself that evening, looking as handsome and hard-nosed as ever. His gaze went to me immediately, and he shut the door behind him as he let his briefcase thunk to the floor.

  “Very nice,” he said in a gravelly voice, and for once I actually heard what approval sounded like from my boss.

  But I just felt like running and hiding. I looked at the briefcase and wondered if I was supposed to bring that in. The job didn’t really come with a list of duties other than the few that I’d been told, but more than that, rich guys always wanted their staff to be mind readers.

  I shifted in my heels, my hands clasped behind my back. I thought it’d make me look professional but instead it just made my chest stick out more.

  “Thank you, Sir.”

  He took his time sizing me up, but he kept such a calm, cool aura about him all the while, somehow avoiding the disposition of a letch like I was more used to dealing with.

  “I approve. You’ll get your raise, Miss Tish,” he said to me, pushing his shoulders back and looking at me expectantly. “Well?” he asked.

  I blanked.

  “Excuse me, sir?” I said, and that made him furrow his brow in irritation.

  “Didn’t you study your new duties?” he asked. “On your tablet?” and I suddenly turned blood red, realizing I must’ve missed some other things. “Surely Martin told you,” he said.

  He didn’t, I didn’t think, but I stared up at him blankly.

  “Grocery shopping. Taking an inventory. No guests...” I trailed off, trying to think of what else Martin had told me.

  His brows furrowed and he looked irritated.

  “Take my briefcase to my office, set the table for supper and await further instructions,” he commanded me firmly. “After tonight, I’ll expect you to go over the details in the tablet, understood?”

  It was less a question like when Martin said that word, and more of a command itself.

  My cheeks went hot and I grabbed for the briefcase, my knees trembling a little as I went up the few stairs into the main area, going towards where I figured his office was. I regretted not looking around more earlier, but it felt strange, being in someone else’s house all by myself.

  It took me longer than I’d hoped just to find the office, what with how big his place was! But at last, the spacious room was in my sights and I laid his case upon his hardwood desk, taking but a moment to admire the very old-fashioned style of the decor as compared to the more modern look of the rest of his place.

  I came out then, rushing to the table, when I found him doing something I’d never thought I’d see: cooking.

  There he was, tie and jacket gone, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, working at the stove with such intense focus.

  I’d just assumed he had someone to do that as well.

  And secretly I was grateful that wasn’t another one of my tasks.

  I stood for a moment, my head cocked to the side as I drank the sight in. He looked good, and it was nice to see him, without being seen. To study him and let my eyes roam over his hair, his trim figure, the way his forearms bulged from out beneath his dress shirt.

  I had to keep my head clear, though. But honestly, it was hard. I was dressed up like some tramp, and you’d have to be someone way more moral than me not to feel exposed and a little turned on. You can’t dress up like you would in the bedroom and not feel a bit of that bedroom allure.

  I licked my lips and was so aware of the sensation before I pushed it aside. I hated this man. I hated that he dressed me up like a doll.

  I just had to keep reminding myself of that.

  I walked into the kitchen, looking at the cabinets.

  “Place setting for one, Sir?”

  “Yes,” he said, absent-mindedly, paying me only a tiny morsel of his attention as he focussed himself upon his cooking. The frying pan sizzling as he set to work on whatever culinary creation he had in mind.

  Finding the things I needed to set the table was the most troublesome part, but once I was done… I wasn’t quite sure what came next. I stood there, a little awkward and confused until his voice came out of the kitchen.

  “Grab a bottle of wine from the rack, the one on top,” he instructed, not burdening me with the fancy names and boring dates of his wine collection.

  When at last it was all done though, he came to the table with his food as I stood there. Not sure what to do with myself as I imitated a living statue.

  Though as he began to eat, his eyes would drift to me again now and then.

  “Do you have experience in those kind of heels?” he asked me out of the blue, in between bites of his stir fry.

  Was I trembling that much? I thought I had it under control.

  Honestly, it wasn’t the heels that were bothering me so much, though they were way higher than I anticipated. But it was everything else. Nerves.

  I brushed my hand over my stomach, smoothing out the fabric though just for an excuse to hide my eyes from him.

  “I’ll get used to them, Sir. I promise,” I raised my e
yes, hoping I looked resolute.

  He laid down his fork, and wiped his mouth, gesturing to me.

  “Stand closer to me,” he instructed firmly.

  I did as he told me, but it put me within an awkwardly close distance of him, right up against my towering boss almost.

  “This isn’t an easy job,” he said to me, looking up over my body before resting his gaze upon my face once more. “But the rewards will scale with your effort. Doubling your pay will just be the start, as long as you’re willing to put in the commitment,” he said smoothly, his voice losing some of that edge. But only a little.

  “How does that sound to you?” he asked.

  “I’ve always worked hard,” I managed, though I had to wonder why my voice sounded so weak. I swallowed, licking my plush lips and tried to be more confident. “I’m sure I won’t let you down.”

  Though honestly, I had no idea what I was agreeing to. But I needed the money, and if I needed to dress in a skimpy costume to earn it, I’d do it.

  He raised his one arm up, and placed his hand upon my lower back, rubbing there… and brushing against the round swell of my rear.

  “I knew I had a good feeling about you,” he said, touching me so brazenly, feeling my flesh through the thin silk and lace fabric of my uniform. “You’ll adapt in no time, I’m sure. Now,” he said, continuing to talk before I could object, “are you hungry?”

  There he speared his fork through a piece of chicken and broccoli, looking at me with a brow raised in anticipation of my answer.

  My stomach being up with my chest, both of them tight with nervousness, made me want to say no.

  But Mr. Romy wasn’t the type of guy that wanted me to say no.

  I instead nodded, my head spinning as I looked at that bit of offered food. It really did smell and look divine, but I was too worried about the precariousness of my situation.

  And of what he really wanted.

  I wish I’d looked through that list of duties to see if ‘let me grab your ass’ was on it somewhere.

  “On your knees then,” he said so firmly, so matter-of-factly. I was a little dazed, but his strong hand upon me guided me down, and I knelt beside his seat as I was ordered. His cruel disposition had vanished, or rather shifted, he was commanding still, but it had a different air to it then…