by Emma York
I watched her move, that ass of hers in the bikini making me rock hard. Her hips, her waist, the way the swell of her tits filled the bikini top, the nipples just visible as hard points, all of it made me want her. I just had to get her to sign the contract first.
I moved behind the camera. “Arms by your side.” Could she tell how hard I was? Hopefully not.
“Turn left. Now right. Now face away. Turn back to look at me. Shift your feet apart. That’s it.”
I took the last photo, looking through the viewfinder and noticing something on her upper thigh. What was that? If I didn’t know better, I’d say it was a scar, a burn mark of some kind.
She didn’t say anything the entire time, just stood there, her fingers squirming, her feet shifting. I looked at her deliberately, running my eyes down her. “You’ll see a difference by the time we’re done,” I said, tapping the camera. “Now, are you ready to sign?”
She bit her lip again, turning slightly away from me. “I don’t know,” she said quietly. “All this, I don’t know if I can do it.”
“If you mean wearing that, you won’t be in it much longer. It’s just to see how you react to being looked at when the protection of your clothing is taken away.”
“I’ve never worn a bikini.”
“You should, you look good in one.”
She blushed furiously, saying nothing.
“Take the contract home with you,” I said, moving to sit behind the desk. I needed to sit down, my cock was throbbing and starting to twitch with need. I wanted her so badly but not yet, she had to sign first. “Take twenty-four hours to decide. Let me know by tomorrow.”
It was a burn on her leg. In fact, it was more than one. I could see better from here. She saw my eyes looking down and clamped her legs shut.
“Can I get changed?” she asked, her voice quiet.
“Of course,” I replied, getting up and crossing to the door. Inside my head I was thinking no, stay like that forever. I want to see your skin, I want to see the shape of you, feel if you’re as soft as you look, see what that ass looks like with my cock inside it.
I left the office, avoiding Sally’s eye as she looked up at me from her desk. I crossed to the corridor and waited there, trying to get better control of myself. It didn’t matter where those burns came from. What mattered was teaching her how to submit then using her as my admission price to the club. That was what mattered.
When I went back into the office she was dressed. I tried to keep the disappointment from my face. “Twenty-four hours,” I said, pressing the contract into her hands. “Think hard.”
Then I ushered her out of the door. I needed her gone. Another minute and I’d have torn those clothes off her. The need inside me was screaming to get her naked. After she’d left I sank into my chair and smiled. She would say yes. I could tell from that look in her eyes. Once she had signed, I would unlock the door in the corridor, lead her inside, and then we would begin. The things I would do to her when the door was locked behind us. So many things.
SEVEN - ROSA
Why did you do it? The question went round my head over and over again, bouncing off the inside of my skull. I wasn’t a glamour model. It wasn’t some kind of 1970s beauty pageant. I wasn’t a supermodel. I wasn’t any kind of model. Why did I agree to change into a bikini in his office?
I had no answers.
I walked home in a daze. The further I got from his office and the closer I got to home the more it felt as if it hadn’t happened, as if I’d dreamed the whole thing. It just didn’t seem real.
An interview. That’s what I thought I was going to. Was it the stress of being late? Had that screwed with me? Catherine insisting on talking to me as I was heading out of the door, me unable to say no. What was wrong with me?
“Lack of confidence,” Emma said when I asked her.
I had walked in and found her in the kitchen, making one of her fruit teas, the scent of blackberry filling the air.
“What’s wrong?” she asked. “Didn’t it go well?”
I threw out the questions that had been circling my head. She listened patiently until I was done telling her what had happened. “Maybe this consulting thing will be good for you after all,” she said as we sat together on the sofa. “I mean, if he’s as good as he says, maybe you’ll come out more confident, better able to say no when someone tells you to change into a bikini in their office. Did you not stop to think at all?”
“Of course I did,” I snapped at her. “But you weren’t there. You didn’t see the look on his face.”
She paused, raised her eyebrows and then grinned. “You fancy him!”
“What? No I don’t.”
“Yes, you do. You bloody fancy him and that’s why you did it. You wanted him to see you like that, get a look at the goods, let the dog see the rabbit et cetera.”
“Am I the dog or the rabbit in that beautiful analogy?”
“You’re the girl who’s trying to pull Jamie Spencer. I’ll tell you something, ten out of ten for style, going for the big leagues out of the gate.”
“I don’t fancy him,” I said, almost shouting.
“All right,” she replied, leaning back in her seat. “Don’t bite my head off. You don’t fancy him. You just decided to be Miss April in the Spencer Enterprises calendar, that’s all.”
I growled at her.
“I’m kidding,” she replied. “Look, if you don’t want to do this, I’ll understand.”
I sighed, rubbing my eyes for a moment. “It’s not that I don’t want to do it. It’s that I don’t know if I should. I mean what if he tries to do more things like that, what if he tells me to take off all my clothes next time?”
“You do it and then you jump on him and ride the billionaire.”
“Nice.”
“He told you there was a safe word, didn’t he?”
I nodded. “And?”
“Then if it goes too far, you just say it and leave.”
“What if he won’t let me leave?”
“Then he ends up in court on kidnapping charges. No amount of money will get him out of that. By then you’ll have enough for the article, Simon will give you a full time job and we’ll be working side by side like Woodward and Bernstein.”
“More like Keith Harris and Orville.”
“I wish I could fly,” she replied, bursting into song.
“Don’t.”
“High up in the sky.”
“I said don’t.”
“But I can’t.”
“I’m going now.”
“Wait,” she said as I reached the hallway. “Are you going to do it?”
“Yes,” I said. “If only to stop you murdering songs from my childhood.”
“Can I listen?”
“Fine.” I dug out my phone and rang the number on his card, Emma leaning over to hear the voice on the other end.
“Miss Harper.”
It was him. It wasn’t his secretary. My heart started thudding in my chest, defying my efforts to keep calm. “I’ll do it,” I said.
“Bring the contract with you to my office, seven tomorrow evening. Say your goodbyes before you come. Remember, ten days with no contact with the outside world once you arrive.”
“Unless I say the safe word?”
“Unless you say the safe word.”
“Then I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“You will. Whoever is listening next to you will not.”
“But there’s-”
“I can hear them breathing.”
He hung up and Emma mouthed silently, “Oh my God!”
“What?” I asked. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“No reason.” She shrugged.
“Come on, tell me.”
“Let’s just say for someone who doesn’t fancy him, you’re doing a great impression of wanting to ride him into the sunset.”
“I don’t fancy him.”
“Course not. You’re just doing this for
the article. Noble, really. Just spending ten days with a super hot billionaire for the sake of journalism. The people of this country, no, the world, salute you.”
“I detect a hint of sarcasm.”
“Well spotted. Sarcasm over, see if you can get some photos of his playroom while you’re there.”
“His what?”
“Didn’t Simon tell you?” She smiled.
“Tell me what?”
“There’s a rumour that he’s got some kinky playroom somewhere where he does all kinds of things to the women in his life.”
“And you’re telling me this after I’ve said yes?”
“If I’d told you before, you’d have chickened out.”
“No I wouldn’t.”
“Yes, you would. I know you, Rosa Harper.”
“Then you’ll know I’m hungry. What do you fancy for tea?”
“The rest of them are having pizza out. Shall we go join them?”
“Only if you’re paying and you keep all this to yourself.”
“Sure, we tell them you’re going on an impromptu holiday for the next ten days. Easy sell.”
“I won’t be there ten days. As soon as I’ve enough for the article, I’ll be coming home.”
“Unless he asks you to marry him.”
“Stop it!”
She grinned. “Come on, lets go get pizza.”
She kept her word. She didn’t tell the others where I was going. If they guessed, they kept the knowledge to themselves which suited me fine.
It felt like a weird kind of goodbye meal. I couldn’t put my finger on exactly why but I got the feeling that when I next saw them, things would be different. Maybe I would be more confident, brave enough to call a waiter back and tell him he’d brought me the wrong drink. Or maybe I’d just be wiser, learning not to trust businessmen who got you into a bikini the second time you met.
It was when I was in bed that night that the question came back. Why did you do it? Was Emma right? Did I fancy him? It was impossible not to be drawn to him. He was handsome, anyone could see that. But he was a smug son of a bitch too, perpetually amused by me.
As I was drifting off to sleep, my guard slipped and a voice whispered to me. You did it because he told you to.
But a second later I was asleep and when I woke up, the voice was gone. I was back to doubting myself.
I spent that day feeling like a kid on Christmas Eve. I couldn’t sit still, I couldn’t focus on anything. All I could do was watch the clock slip far too slowly towards seven. I went for a run, big mistake. It had been too long since the last one and my body was not impressed at being jolted back into a fitness regime. I panted my way home and sweated into a shower. I hardly ate, I was too nervous.
When it came time to go, I said goodbye to them all before heading off, Emma stopping me on the doorstep to give me a last hug. “Good luck,” she said, stepping back to let me go after squeezing me tight. “Ring me if he turns out to be weird. I’ll be over to get you before you can saw lawsuit.”
“Thanks,” I said, slipping my phone into my trouser pocket. “Visible?”
“Nope,” she replied. “As far as he’s concerned, you’re bringing nothing.”
“Is this cheating?” I asked, tapping the phone.
“Not until you know it’s safe there. Then you can always confess. For now, keep it hidden just in case.”
“This is me,” I said as a taxi pulled up, beeping its horn, driver waving at me.
“See you soon,” Emma said, watching me go from the doorstep.
I waved goodbye to her as I set off. Why did it feel like such a big deal? I wasn’t even travelling that far. And I could leave any time I wanted. The safe word was my escape route. The phone was just a back up.
“Night out, is it?” the taxi driver asked.
“Business,” I replied.
“Burning the midnight oil, aren’t you?”
“Something like that,” I said, turning to look out of the window.”
“What line of work you in?”
“I’m a journalist, well I’m hoping to be one. I’m on my way to an interview.”
“Relax and be yourself, that’s what they always say but I say what if you’re a twat? That’s not gonna ‘elp then is it?”
“I suppose not.”
“I reckon if you’re a twat, you oughta be someone else, what do you think?”
“Very true.”
“Still what do I know, I only drive this to get away from the wife. Never get married, that’s my advice, especially not to my wife.”
“I’ll bear it in mind.”
“You do that, love, you do that.”
He lapsed into silence before starting to hum tunelessly as I stared out of the window.
Relax and be myself. I could be myself. It was the relaxing part I wasn’t sure I could manage. By the time I climbed out and looked up at the Spencer Enterprises building, I was a bundle of nerves. Could I go through with this? Should I go through with this?
I still felt sure he had better things to be doing, that this was all a big joke. But if it was, I was determined to see it play out. I told myself it was to get the story but I knew deep down there was more to it than that. I wanted to see him again.
My nerves grew as I walked into the building, the reception area empty. There was a different woman in front of the executive lift but she seemed to be expecting me, stepping aside as I approached, hitting the button to open the doors before I had chance to say anything.
“Thanks.” I nodded to her as I passed.
“You’re welcome,” she replied, her voice as cold as ice. “Have a good evening.”
The doors closed and I took several deep breaths as I ascended, telling myself to keep calm. It was only ten days. Where was he going to take me? His house? A hotel? A private island somewhere?
His secretary wasn’t at her desk so I knocked directly on his door and then waited. Maybe he wouldn’t be there. Maybe this was the punchline to the joke held at my expense.
“Enter,” a voice said a moment later.
I pushed open the door and there he was behind the desk, scrawling on a notepad. “Miss Harper,” he said, pointing to the chair nearest to me. “Take a seat. I trust you’ve signed the contract.”
That smile, that infuriating smile. He knew I’d signed it, he probably knew from the start. Well screw you, I thought to myself. I’m going to be taking you down a peg or two when this article comes out, no more secret consulting by the time this is out. Everything out in the open instead, where it belonged.
“Here,” I said, passing it to him. “Ten days to make me confident.”
“I intend to do far more than just make you confident,” he said, his voice deepening.
“Really? Like what?”
“Not until we are Sub Rosa. Come with me and we’ll begin.”
He stood up, walking out of the office and into the corridor. I followed behind him, feeling my nerves start to boil over. My hands were shaking, my mouth felt dry and it was made so much worse by how calm he was, the way he seemed utterly indifferent to my anxiety.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
He stopped, spinning to face me. “In here,” he said, sliding a key into the door beside him. With a twist of the wrist, the door was open and he stepped back, motioning for me to enter.
“What is this?” I asked, stepping into the darkness.
“Where you’re going to spend the next ten days,” he replied as the door slid shut behind us, trapping the two of us together in the darkness.
EIGHT - JAMIE
I heard her gasp when the door closed. I left her in the darkness for only a second before hitting the light switch. The corridor appeared.
Four doors, two either side, plain, no sign of what was behind them. Then another door at the end of the corridor, matching the one we’d just walked through. The carpet was deep red, matching the walls. The lights were recessed in the ceiling, shining straight down, creatin
g spots on the carpet, set up so each was brighter as you went further in.
I had designed every inch of this space in great detail. It needed to match a very specific set of requirements. The first, unseen, was soundproofing. From where we stood, she could scream at the top of her voice and no one in the corridor behind would hear a thing. A system like that did not come cheap.
I’d bought a music business a couple of years ago for the sole purpose of using their engineers to help with getting things perfect. It had taken months to build but meant I could be sure what happened in here stayed private. No one would hear. No one would see. Except me and whoever I brought in with me. I heard everything. I saw everything. Something about having it in the office made it all the more intense, hiding in plain sight, the best place to hide.
“Why are there cameras?” Rosa asked, pointing at the one above the far door.
“So that I can monitor what happens in here,” I replied. “I can see everything via my phone or on the computer in my office. Don’t worry, the program is hidden behind several layers of encryption. See.” I held up my phone, showing her in miniature a crystal clear image of the two of us, as seen by the camera in the far wall.
“Why do you need to see in here?”
“I can’t spend the entire ten days with you. I still have a business to run.”
“I’m going to spend the ten days in here alone?”
“No more questions until we’re Sub Rosa. If you would.” I pointed to the door next to her.
“Is it locked?”
“When I unlocked that door, these doors automatically did the same.”
I only had to flick a switch on my phone to lock or unlock any of these doors, the perfect way of controlling them and whoever was behind them.
She pushed open the door and we both stepped into the Rose Room.
There were no windows. The walls were painted crimson, six pillars helping to create a hexagonal shape to the space. Each pillar curved overhead towards an inverted bowl ceiling. At the very top, in the centre, there was a rose, carved in wood, crafted to look as real as possible.
