by Sky Corgan
Oh my, this room is so hot. I fan myself with my hand. Maybe it's because my hair is down. I gather it over one shoulder only to fan it out moments later because I think Xan will like it better if it looks flowy. Why do I even care what he thinks? He's a pervert, and I shouldn't be trying to please him.
The door opens without warning, and my arms fly to my sides, grasping onto the desk. My knee bends slightly, and I bite my tongue at how awkward I look. Did I really just try to make a sexy pose? Tried and failed miserably. I told myself I wasn't going to do that. Why did I try to do that?
I don't have much time to dwell on my embarrassment because it's taken over by disappointment at the fact that Xan is now wearing pajama pants. He still looks gorgeous, but a greedy part of me would have liked to see his dick again. It's wrong, but it's the truth; my boss is very nice to look at.
He grins smugly at me, which makes me want to roll my eyes. I don't, though. Instead, I just look away. “I'm pleased with your decision.” His gaze lands on my clothes folded neatly on his desk. Then they fall to his on the floor, and he frowns. “Why didn't you fold mine as well?”
I hug myself, suddenly feeling self-conscious. He hasn't even commented on the lingerie. Does he not like the way I look in it? “I thought you were coming back for them.”
“Well, that wasn't the case.” He walks around me casually to go sit at his desk. “Fold them and place them next to yours. Then we'll get started.”
By get started, I think he means something perverted that I'll have a hard time handling. It doesn't. Get started means work. Actual, real work.
It's like I'm not even wearing the lingerie at all. Like putting it on was just like changing into another high-neck blouse. Like we're at the office and Xan is in a suit and tie. He takes his time training me on the tasks he wants me to perform. He's diligent and professional, courteous and kind. I feel like I'm trapped in one of those dreams where everything is normal at first, but then you realize you're in your underwear. I'm a bit shell-shocked by the entire experience, my mind going wild wondering about his intentions and what this all means.
Most of the tasks are menial, like reading news articles about his stocks and holdings and telling him about any notable updates, checking his mail, and stuffing and licking envelopes. He gives me a small space on the corner of his desk to work, telling me that if everything goes well during my training, then he'll buy me a desk of my own. It's then I realize he hasn't had an assistant work with him on such a personal level before, and that makes me feel special; makes me feel things I probably shouldn't. Not for my boss.
As the afternoon approaches, he pulls a sheet of paper from his desk drawer and hands it to me along with a credit card. On one side of the paper is a recipe for beef wellington. On the other is a hand-scrawled list of ingredients that mirror what's on the front plus a few additional items. “You can go to the store before you make dinner,” he tells me dismissively, pulling out a set of keys. “Take the Corvette. It has more trunk space.”
“I can't drive.” I look at the keys as he offers them to me.
He huffs. “Fine. I'll have my driver take you.” Xan takes his phone from his desk and types out a text message.
“Can I change first?” I glance down at my inappropriate attire.
“Sure.” He waves me away, sounding annoyed. “But next time I see you, I want you to be wearing that. Do not address me unless you're in your uniform. Do you understand me? If you do, I'll fire you.” He glances at me over his monitor to show me he's serious.
“Yes, sir.” I squirm internally. It's odd how he can be so kind one moment yet so cruel the next. He's a stern boss; that's for sure.
“Be downstairs in twenty minutes. You're dismissed.” He turns his gaze back to his computer and continues working.
I take my leave, going to my room to change into something more modest before heading downstairs.
There's plenty of time to kill, so I decide to be nosy and explore the rest of the house that Xan didn't show me on the tour. Most of what I find isn't too surprising. There are a few extra bedrooms and a library. Then I come to one room that's different from the rest. The walls are painted red. The ceiling is black. The floor is tiled, and it's covered in red rugs that seem strategically placed in front of the various pieces of medieval-looking furniture. There are a wooden stockade and a strange padded cage. A throne fit for a king sits on one side of the room. I'm not sure if I should be afraid or amused. I'm not naive enough to think that Mister Sanderlin keeps people prisoner here. If he did, I'm certain he would have made sure to lock the door so I couldn't open it. This must be a storage space for collecting Renaissance themed furniture, a rather interesting and unexpected hobby.
I smirk to myself as I shut the door to the room, thinking about how finding it has somehow made me feel closer to Xan. If my training works out, I'll be learning all sorts of personal things about him. How will that make me feel? My attraction to him is already apparent. I'm admittedly concerned that if I get too attached, I might...
No, I shake the thought away. He's my boss. I can't fall in love with him. Besides, he's a pervert, and he's just using me. Even if I start to care about him, there's no way my feelings would ever be returned. No matter what happens here, I need to deaden my heart to him. It's the only way I'll be able to get through this.
I make sure to be outside on time. Xan's driver takes me to the grocery store but offers me no help in procuring the items on my list. He simply hangs out in the parking lot, leaving me to do all the shopping on my own.
Thankfully, most of the stuff on the list is normal everyday ingredients. The only one I have to ask for assistance in finding is liver pate, which ends up being in the canned meat section.
When I get to the bottom of the list, my face heats up. Every time I've read the last item on the list, I've blushed. But now, having to go retrieve it, I feel like I might burst into flames. If someone were to see me in that section of the store...
I ignore the item, going to the register to check out. I still plan on picking it up, but I have a plan that keeps me uninvolved.
After Xan's driver helps me load the groceries into the trunk of the car, and I crawl back into the passenger seat, I inform him that we need to make one more stop.
“Mister Sanderlin didn't say anything about an additional stop.” He raises a bushy eyebrow at me, sounding like a mobster.
“We need to stop by a gas station,” I inform him.
“What for?”
“I need you to take this card and go buy condoms.” I pull Xan's credit card from my purse and hand it to him.
“Why didn't you get them from the grocery store?” He glances back at the store. We've just pulled out of the parking lot, and I'm crossing my fingers silently praying that he doesn't pull back in and make me get them myself.
“I forgot.” I shrug nonchalantly.
“Yeah. You forgot.” He eyes me suspiciously, obviously not falling for the lie.
When we pull up to the gas station, and he kills the engine, he twists in his seat to face me. His jutting brow makes him look like an ogre. “Listen, princess. If you're going to be working for Mister Sanderlin, you need to get used to picking up his rubbers. Go get em' yourself.” He tosses the card at me.
I fumble as I try to catch the credit card and it falls to the floor. My heart drops with it. This is exactly what I feared would happen, but at least I'm less likely to be recognized here; not that many people would recognize me.
I inhale deeply and go inside, realizing that I just need to suck this up. Hopefully, Xan doesn't blow through condoms like they're going out of style. Just in case, though, I should probably get a lot of them so that I don't have to buy them again for a while.
Too embarrassed to ask for them myself, I take the shopping list up to the register and point to what I need. The cashier gives me a queer look before glancing at the store's selection of condoms, then back to me. “We don't carry that brand here.”
I groan audibly, feeling completely defeated by this condom beast. When I get back into the car empty-handed, I practically slam the door behind me, immediately folding my arms over my chest to show the driver that I'm not in a mood to be messed with.
“Where are the condoms?” he asks the obvious question.
“Just drive.”
“But—”
“I forgot them, okay,” I tell him before he has a chance to make me feel more useless than I already do. This shouldn't have been as difficult as I made it. All I had to do was go into the condom aisle of the grocery store, grab the box, and then this wouldn't have happened. I didn't see anyone I knew at the grocery store. It was fine. But no. I messed this up because I was embarrassed, and now Xan is going to be disappointed in me. Or worse. Will he fire me? I'm starting to think I don't really care anymore. This is becoming too much.
We return to the mansion, and Xan's driver turns useless again as I'm forced to unload the groceries all by myself. I'm not really sure why it matters—why I had expected him to be a gentleman. There are no gentlemen here. That is 100% clear to me.
I decide to avoid Xan until after I finish making dinner. The idea of cooking in the skimpy outfit he picked out for me isn't exactly appealing, nor is it particularly safe. There's always the threat of spills and grease burns in the kitchen.
The meal he has me prepare is long and laborious. I'm used to making simple dishes for my mother and our roommates. Most of the time, it's whatever we have in the pantry mixed together with some type of protein. We tend to eat a lot of soups and stews because that's what's easiest to make and it goes a long way.
Now I'm cooking a gourmet meal for a man who probably won't even appreciate it. Just like he doesn't appreciate the way I look in the lingerie.
As I wait for the beef to bake, I think about how quiet the mansion is. It's almost eerily silent. Xan is probably still in his office, but I can't hear him at all. He played music when we were working together, but the sound hasn't made it downstairs. Is it always like this when he's alone? There's so much space and nothing to fill it. It's kind of sad.
I let my mind wander to what my mother might be doing. Is Ruby with her right now playing the word games that I usually play with her to help stimulate her mind? It's strange that I haven't even been gone for a full day yet and I already miss them horribly. This is the first time I've ever really been away from my mother, though. The homesickness will likely only get worse. It's yet another thing I'm not sure I can handle.
I stare at the marble countertop in front of me, allowing my thoughts and worries to carry me away to another place. I'm so distracted that I don't even notice I'm overdue to take the beef out of the oven. By the time I realize I forgot to set the oven timer, it's already overcooked.
“Oh darn,” I exhale a stressed out breath, rushing to pull the meat from the oven. I just keep messing up today. Surely this is a sign from God that this isn't right—that I don't belong here. There's little doubt in my mind that Xan will fire me before the day is up.
I finish preparing the meal to the best of my ability before going upstairs to change into my slutty lingerie and then heading to Xan's office to announce that dinner is ready.
I cringe internally as I watch him take the first bite. Much like with the lingerie, he says nothing. This time, though, it's a relief. I was expecting to be chastised for my lack of cooking skills.
We eat in silence, and again I'm reminded of how lonely this place is—of how lonely he must feel. Even on the rare days where I've felt claustrophobic living in a small cramped apartment with three other women, there's always been a warmth to it. It's always felt like home. Xan's mansion is just...cold. Brick and mortar and glass and marble. Vast and empty, echoing of memories of a family gone and moved on with their lives. Apart.
Maybe me being here will make him feel less alone. I hope it does. Perhaps that's half of the reason why I'm here.
Trying to figure out Xander Sanderlin is fascinating in its own right. I try not to stare at him too curiously while he eats. Like a crystal, there are many facets to him. There's the professional businessman, the kind teacher, and then the jagged edges when he's threatening my job or talking dirty to me. Just thinking about his eyes when he turns sexual makes me squirm in my seat with unsettling yearnings.
We finish dinner, and Xan tells me to meet him in his private theater once I'm done with the dishes. I obediently take our plates to the kitchen, wondering what he has planned for me next. The thought that he might have assembled a training video goes through my mind, but I quickly brush it away. There's no professional training video for the job that he has me doing. At least, I don't imagine there would be. Not unless he had it custom made. And what he's had me do so far... No, it's definitely not going to be a training video. With that decided, I mull over whatever he's going to force me to watch. No doubt, it will be something that tests my boundaries. Probably an action movie with lots of filthy language and sex scenes. Or maybe a horror movie that will make me cling to my religion in the hopes of keeping nightmares at bay.
Once I've finished washing the dishes, I ascend the staircase and find the theater. It's not a particularly large room. There are only three rows of chairs that seat four people per row. They're more like plush recliners than movie theater seating, with plenty of room to lounge and stretch out. Against the back wall is an old-time popcorn maker, though it looks like it's more for decoration than practical use. The walls are lined with the traditional velvet curtains that are at most theaters. I remember them from the one time that Dorothy sneaked me out to see a movie shortly after Mother and I moved in with her and Ruby. It was supposed to be a bonding exercise. I hadn't wanted to go, but she had convinced me that seeing a movie in a theater was something I should do at least once in my life. It was fun experiencing the movie with everyone else in the theater—seeing the people around me react to the emotion invoking parts in tandem. And while I appreciated her taking me, I quickly decided it wasn't something I needed to do again. As it is, I only watch television in passing when Ruby and Dorothy are in the living room of our apartment. I feel there are more productive things I could be doing with my time.
I try to blink away the brief nostalgia I feel from being in the theater. Xan is seated in the center of the middle row. Seeing him in the room alone makes it seem larger somehow. It also reminds me of the loneliness I was feeling for him earlier.
“Are you ready?” he asks with a smile.
I clasp my hands in front of me and nod, walking over to him. “What are we going to watch?”
“Something I think you'll rather enjoy.” There's a flash of darkness in his eyes, and I instantly get the feeling that he means the opposite of what he says.
I lower myself to sit beside him, but Xan grabs my hips, redirecting me and pulling me down. I stumble and lose my balance, clutching onto his bare shoulders before I fall onto his lap. I cringe, muttering an apology as I try to get back up. He won't allow it. His hands circle my waist, keeping me in place.
“This is where you'll sit tonight,” he tells me in that sexy voice that makes the hair on the back of my neck prickle.
I let my hands fall to my lap. This is entirely inappropriate, but if it's what he wants, then I can't argue.
I watch as he reaches for a remote sitting next to him and clicks a button on it to illuminate the screen and start the movie. The opening scene plays out like a kidnapping. There's a woman hogtied on a coffee table with a gag in her mouth. A man in a suit walks around to sit on the sofa behind her. He throws some files onto the couch and then opens up his laptop to work, ignoring the woman.
The camera focuses on the woman's face. She looks more frustrated than frightened, whining and writhing on the table. The man continues to work for several more minutes as if she's not ever there. There's no background music, just the sound of the woman whining. I'm expecting the man to become annoyed with her and get violent. In a hostage situation, I imagine that's what would typically h
appen. The scene makes me uncomfortable, and I'm waiting for an explanation about what's going on, some narrative or music or anything.
The man finally sets his laptop aside and stands to approach the woman. Affectionately, he pets her hair and caresses her face. When I see the wanton look in her eyes, it clicks in my head what type of movie this is. It's not a movie at all. It's a porno.
My heart catches in my chest as discomfort snakes through my intestines. As if feeling my uneasiness and wanting to add to it, something starts to move beneath my lap. Not move...but grow.
My cheeks flush with color as I realize that Xan is getting an erection. I glance up at him for a split second, and his eyes lock with mine. There's hunger in his expression—the kind that revs up everything within me that should stay dormant until I'm married. I quickly avert my gaze, returning my attention to the screen. The man calls the woman his wife, which only makes me feel an iota better about what's about to take place between them. I know it's all fantasy, but thinking that the couple is married will make this easier...if I can even get through it.
He stands beside her to check her bondage, and every time her eyes land on him it's with pure lust. She's in the most uncomfortable position, her arms and legs tied behind her, her mouth stretched open, yet she's enjoying every bit of it. It's strange to me, to think of such a thing as enjoyable. I know that there are some weird fetishes out there, though.
The man lifts his wife's dress, revealing white panties that are only slightly less modest than what I have on. I wonder how long I'll be able to watch before I have to turn away. This act between them is so sacred, yet they recorded it for everyone to watch. These videos are meant for perverts. I am not a pervert, but apparently, my boss is.
The camera zooms in on the woman's parted legs. The man begins to rub between them, sliding his hands back and forth between her thighs and down the length of her slit. My body reacts unbidden, a pulse of electricity assaulting my clit as I imagine what she must be feeling. As if responding, I feel Xan grow even harder beneath me. He's angled so that his cock is flush with my pussy. The pressure against my folds causes the pulse to happen a second time. I feel strange on the inside, like my resolve to be good is breaking off in chunks and falling away. I'm enjoying the heat between our parts almost as much as I'm thankful for the clothing between us. I can picture us both naked, though, and I wonder what his thick veiny dick would feel like slid between my folds. I'm shamefully aroused by the video, and it hasn't even gotten intense yet.
