by S. R. Watson
“You want me to suck you clean, baby?” She knows I hate when she tries that baby shit.
It’s just a fuck. She’s not mine, and I’m not her baby. Nothing is going change that. I don’t have the time or the inclination for relationships, but if I did, it wouldn’t be her. She knows this because I was upfront from the beginning.
“Don’t!” I warn. “Let’s not pretend this anything more than a fuck—satisfying a mutual want.”
I grab some Kleenex from a desk in the corner to wrap the used condom in before shoving it in my pocket. Yes, I’m taking it with me because I don’t trust anyone. I’m certainly not going to leave my DNA behind for someone to use to get pregnant. I definitely wouldn’t put it past Tory to try some desperate shit like that. I wipe my dick off with the rest of the Kleenex in my hand before tucking myself back into my jeans.
“So what now, Silas? Are you done with me? You didn’t even use your belt or your hand on me. Is it her? Yeah, I saw the way you looked at the Mary Poppins wannabe. Do you want to fuck her? Do you want to replace me?” Her voice rises an octave with that last question. She’s going for the bitch act, but all I see is desperation.
“That’s enough. Don’t forget your fucking place or the reason you’re allowed on my yacht at all. Fucking you is just a bonus, but you’re still an employee. Who I want to and who I actually fuck is of no consequence to you,” I boom. I don’t give two shits if I can be heard outside these walls either. “I think it’s best if we bring shit back to just professional. I don’t have time for anything else. This is no longer fun for me.”
“Look, Silas. I’m sorry,” she backpedals. “I just got jealous for a second because you were looking at her the way you used to look at me. I know that you’re not mine, but I can’t lose the part of you I do have.”
“I don’t know what part of me you think you have, but you’re mistaken. You have no reason to ever be jealous. This is not anything new. We established this before I ever allowed myself to stick my dick in you.”
I shake my head. I need a damn drink. This makes me think twice about getting involved with another employee. Brennan makes my dick ache, but the headache is not worth it. If Tory is this damn whipped, a virgin would probably go all stage-five clinger on my ass.
“Get your shit together,” I suggest as I walk past her to unlock the door. She doesn’t move from the spot that I left her. I’m not in the mood for emotional baggage. It’s barely lunchtime, and I’m already heading to my room for a shot of whiskey and to wash off my dick. That Kleenex shit didn’t do the job.
One shot turns into three. The sun is out now, so it’s much warmer than it was this morning. I head out to the railing where Brennan stood. I chuckle to myself as I think about her persistence to get me to leave an area restricted to guests. Fuck yeah, it’s restricted to guests—employees too. Suddenly, I want to know all about this naïve woman who has ventured into my lair. What started out as a mere favor to Thomas has piqued my interest. What is her background? How is it that a twenty-one-year-old woman has never owned a cell phone? How is she still a virgin? She is freaking gorgeous.
I try to listen attentively as Jacob discusses our shifts with me and the other two co-workers, Ben and Seth. We’re standing in the hallway outside some swanky club called Hedonistic Lair on the second floor. I’m the only female assigned to this floor since Regina, the only other female who volunteered, was sent to work the first floor. I manage to hear that I’ll be working the evening shift—three to eleven. Can’t say I’m surprised, since I have no seniority. I wish I could start early and have my evenings free.
I don’t even know what the hell I was thinking when I volunteered for this gig. The aft is the very section of the boat I was trying to avoid. It’s like some crazy woman possessed my body and made my hand go up. It was imperative for me to erase my first impression with Silas … um, Mr. Lair. First, I reprimand him for being in an off-limits area to guests, and then I manage to call him smug to his face—all before mistaking him to be the son and not the actual owner of the damn boat. Raising my hand was out of some stupid, misplaced guilt, and now I can’t get out of it. I’m going to have to put my big girl panties on and do whatever the hell job I foolishly volunteered for.
“Earth to the new girl back there,” Jacob says, obviously annoyed that I missed something. “Can you just answer the question? We have a lot of ground to cover before tonight.”
“Can you repeat the q-q-question?” I stutter, embarrassed that I was caught not paying attention.
“I asked what size you are,” he repeats, letting out a flustered breath.
“Six,” I answer quickly. I don’t want to waste any more of our group’s time. Jacob begins to scribble on his notepad.
“Scratch that. Her guesstimate is inaccurate,” a voice sounds from behind us. We all turn to see Mr. Lair walking up to us. That walk of his commands the room, and all attention is on him. Well that, and he’s our boss.
“It’s not a guess, sir,” I reply while trying not to sound like I’m challenging him. “I really do wear a size six.” I should know. It’s my body, after all. But I don’t say that last part out loud.
“Hmmm, is that so?” he asks.
His eyes are roaming my body like a gentle caress. He surprises me by grabbing a handful of my pants fabric at the hip. This makes my pants cling to my ass, revealing the hugeness of it. His knuckles graze me, and I struggle to keep my knees from buckling. I let my eyes fixate on the strong grip he has on me. The veins in the back of his hands are pronounced, and it’s so damn hot. I switch the weight to my other foot to create some distance between his hand and my hip. I should be objecting to him putting hands on me, but the truth is, I wish I had more of it. I mistakenly look up and into his captivating blues. That smirk he’s wearing tells me that he knows just what effect he is having on me.
“I’m a connoisseur of the female form, Miss Delavan. The ass is my specialty,” he continues. “Your waist is a four, but this ass is definitely a five.”
His eyes linger on my ass, and I can’t help the audible gulp that escapes. My skin is on fire. The other three guys follow his gaze, and I’m appalled at my own reaction. Why am I letting this happen—letting him sexually size me up in front of everyone? Because let’s face it. This conversation is so not about my clothing size. The flash of lust that I just saw is anything but professional.
“Put her in a size five, Jacob,” he finishes. Just like that, he has flipped the switch back to business.
“Shall we go inside or are you all content to hold up this wall out here?” he questions, pointing at the entrance of the club.
“Sir, yes, sir,” Jacob says.
The moment is gone. I don’t know if I should be disgusted or flattered that he obviously likes my ass. I follow behind the group and try to keep up. I don’t want to get caught not paying attention again. Mr. Lair is walking behind me, and I can’t help but wonder if he’s watching my ass now. I focus on the elegant décor as we pass through the foyer. More marble, but in red and gold. The space is illuminated once we pass the threshold and holy shit! What is this place? I don’t realize my jaw has dropped until Seth puts a single index finger under my chin and closes it. He winks at me, but not in the “melt your panties” way that Mr. Lair does. It was more like a mmmhmm kind of thing. My eyes don’t know where to look first. Weird furniture pieces are evenly spaced around the room, and a cross looking thing is propped against the wall off to the side.
“This is where my classes occur,” Mr. Lair announces, once we’ve all had a chance to look around the room. I’m confused even more so now.
“What do you teach in here?” I can’t be the only one dumbfounded by this.
A deep belly laugh ensues. “So Jacob! I guess you haven’t gotten far enough in that orientation of yours,” Mr. Lair concludes.
“To be fair, sir, we all know what kind of experiences occur on this boat from the many years we’ve worked for you. Seth and Ben just have neve
r worked the aft. I was waiting until we got to this area to explain what this private club is for and how to clean the equipment,” he explains.
“Well, then, let me enlighten you, Miss Delavan. I offer various experiences aboard my ship for like-minded people. Each cruise usually offers only two experiences—to keep the overall setting intimate. The experiences consist of one course where invited guests learn and experiment with a new kink that is unfamiliar to them, and the other experience is for seasoned people to come together to share whatever fantasy is highlighted for that cruise. The experiences rotate every cruise, and my exclusive waiting list is only for the most elite.”
I stop my jaw from dropping this time, but my nosy as shit brain won’t drop it. “What two experiences are organized for this cruise?” He said he was leading the teaching one? I want to know just how kinky he is.
“Curious, are you?” He pins me with his signature stare, and everyone else disappears. I only see him. I’m seeing more of the naughty in him than I did before. The one who pins you to the spot with one glance. “Curiosity killed the cat, sweetheart.” Suspiciously, I wonder which cat he is referring to?
“Um, never mind then. What do we have to clean in here?” I ask, trying to change the subject and get the attention off me.
“The course I mentor is an introduction to impact play, since I’m sure that’s your real question.”
Of course, he isn’t going to let me get away with it. I think he likes to put me on the spot. I look away, so I’m caught off guard when he grabs my hand and pulls me toward a cabinet located in the back of the room. Our group follows. He lets go of my hand to open it, and I can’t for the life of me look away.
“These are my toys, Brennan. They’re all for different types of spanking.”
“Damn.” I hear a voice so low I’m not sure everyone heard it. It was Seth. The cabinet is filled with paddles, whips, and more shit I don’t recognize hanging on hooks. He pulls out some concealed drawers and even more kinky shit come into view.
“Jacob will give you the specifics on how to sanitize everything, but more importantly, how to put things back in their rightful place. Members sign up for personal playtime with their partners in one of ten parlor areas. These rooms need to be cleaned as well. While the rooms are occupied, you will each serve as liaisons to non-aft staff to bring the guests things they’ve ordered such as drinks or food. You will keep track of their allotted scheduled time in order to know when to clean the private parlors. They must be cleaned between each guest’s use.”
Mr. Lair dismisses us after that bomb he just dropped on us. This is so out my comfort zone that I may as well not even be in a zone at all. Holy mess. I’ve managed to put myself squarely in the middle of the kinky crap I was trying avoid. I have to serve these people? During their private playtime? We all know what that private time means. I didn’t even bother asking what the other experience was. I don’t even fully grasp the whole spanking concept. Who wants to be spanked on purpose? And as an adult? Rich people really are weird. I’m lucky my brain hasn’t exploded yet with what he did share. Smug bastard. He knew exactly what I really wanted to know, and he called me on it.
“Earth to Brennan again,” Jacob chastises. The boss has left the room, so he is back to his annoying self. “I said the uniforms would be delivered to your room later this afternoon. The experiences don’t start until tomorrow morning. Mr. Lair likes to let everyone settle in before things kick off. That being said, we’ll meet back here at six for a run-through of what to clean and with what. Seth and Brennan will take the evening shift starting tomorrow, and Ben and I will work during the day.” He tells us to enjoy the rest of our afternoon.
“Well, looks like it’s me and you, girlfriend,” Seth says in an exaggerated fashion after the other two leave. I knew from the moment I saw him that he was gay. He’s so gorgeous with defined muscles that would make any woman look twice. He’s too good looking for this job—too bad he’s batting for the other team. His thick eyebrows and naturally long lashes are amazing, and I don’t even care about girly stuff like that. He’s in his mid-twenties too, if I had to guess, which is my thing. I like to guess people’s age. No reason, in particular, just my quirk.
“I would rather work with you anyway, honey. Those other two are cool but have a major stick in their asses.” I laugh at his assessment because it’s pretty spot-on. Yup! Seth and I will get along just fine.
“You won’t get an argument from me there,” I assure him. “I’d rather work with you too.”
“Now for the real. Did you see how that fine ass man was looking at you the entire time? I swear my own cock jumped to attention when he grabbed your pants. I was like … dayum! All that testosterone.”
I can’t help but giggle. “Shut up, Seth. He did no such thing. He was just trying to make a point. He wasn’t staring at me the entire time, either. I’m like in a non-existence league when it comes to that man because I’m so far out of his, it’s laughable.”
“Girl, your naïvety is so damn cute, but you need to get a clue. That man sees past those baggy clothes and plain Jane look you have going on. I see it, and I’m not even into pussy. You’re a rare find, baby girl, and I’d bet any kind of money that you’re on his radar. Out of his league, my ass.”
He rolls his eyes, and I fall to the floor in hysterics. He just stands there looking at me like I’ve lost my damn mind, which makes me laugh even harder. I have a mirror. I know what I look like compared to women like Bosom Barbie. He’s giving me way too much credit. I guess we all need friends who boost our ego, though. He doesn’t know it yet, but I’m declaring him my new best friend. I’ve never had one of those before.
“Get up, crazy girl. Let’s go grab some food and discuss your makeover.” He pulls me up, and we link arms.
“No makeover, Seth. I’m comfortable being me,” I say.
“Whatever. We’ll see, Miss Delavan,” he mocks in his best Mr. Lair’s voice. I’m laughing so hard now that tears roll down my cheeks. I haven’t laughed this much in … well, ever.
This evening was great with Seth. I could feel a real friendship forming. It’s easy being around him, and he makes me laugh. We swapped stories about our background, and he is even more determined to pull me out of my shell. I haven’t lived at all, according to him, and he wants to put a giant size hole in my verdant bubble. I’m not that innocent … geez. He’s an only child and started working with Mr. Lair two years ago. He’s held several different jobs, but a friend that no longer works here got him this job. He saw it as a way to travel the world while he was still young enough to do so. He couldn’t afford these trips otherwise—much like me.
He’s twenty-five, just like I estimated. He gave me the scoop on Tory and how they all think she slept her way to the top. She was the youngest before I arrived and was the one with the shortest tenure, yet she holds a leadership position. Seth has no doubts that she’s jealous of me if how Mr. Lair looked at me today was any indication. Even though I do know he checked out my ass, that was just a human male response. I’m sure he’s not lusting after me. Especially now that I know he’s hooked up with Tory and probably still does. Who would downgrade from that? It’s not that I have a low self-esteem either; I’m just realistic.
I finally make it back to my cabin after an entertaining afternoon with Seth and more training with the group. We all ate dinner in the third-floor lounge, where I recognized some of the people from today’s meeting. No Tory, however. She’s probably busy with Mr. Lair. I don’t want to think about that, though. I just want to shower and decide what I’m going to do before my afternoon shift tomorrow besides reading the novel-sized training manual Jacob gave me tonight.
I flick the light on in my room, and my eyes roam right past the garment bag hanging from the closet. I’m guessing my new uniform has been dropped off. No, my attention is on the iPhone box sitting on my bed. Just because I’ve never owned a phone doesn’t mean I don’t know what one looks like. I rush to
the bed to peel off the sticky note attached. Addressed to me, the note is from Mr. Lair.
Brennan, here is a company phone that you’ll now need since you’re working in the aft. I’ve taken the liberty of adding a few apps I think you may enjoy. FYI, I’m still baffled by how a twenty-one-year-old has never owned a phone ;) Don’t worry … there’s an instruction manual. Oh, and guess what? There’s a camera on the phone that doesn’t even need film. It’s one of those digital ones. Welcome to the 21st century …
LOL,
Mr. Smug Hottie a.k.a. Silas
I stand against the rail, looking out into the night as the ocean laps against the boat. I glance at my watch and wonder if Brennan has reached her room yet. A smile forms on my lips just thinking about her reaction to my gift and, more importantly, my note. Hell, I’ve never had this much interaction with my employees before, other than Tory. Tonight, I had Atticus issue iPhones to all of them—all so it wouldn’t look preferential to give one to her. I’ve never given out company phones before. The unlimited Wi-Fi needed to text has always been a perk of senior leadership, but I just extended this perk to include my aft staff. Although I did insist on delivering hers myself. That earned me a curious look from my house manager.
With a glass of Macallan in one hand and my phone in the other, I take my inappropriateness a step further. I text Brennan.
Me: Have you figured out how to use the phone yet? - Mr. Smug Hottie
Several minutes pass. Just when I think that I won’t get a response tonight, I see those three dots appear. She’s typing. I take a few swigs of the scotch in my glass as I wait patiently.
