Bondage Virgins

by Lilac James

  Something about her bothered him. A lot. Like the flash of leg at the meeting when her skirt had hiked up. And the look in her eyes yesterday.

  But what really bothered him was what to do about Ms. Mystery. Bex. He’d gotten hooked, as surely as if she were pure cocaine. And like an illegal drug, she could spell total disaster to his career.

  He put his chin in his hands, elbows on the desk, and stared out the window. His phone rang. Bessie. “Yes?”

  “You have a meeting with the marketing people in five minutes, sir. I mean, Reece.”

  “Thanks, Bessie. On my way.”

  At least that would keep his mind occupied. He grabbed the folder of papers he should have been reviewing and bolted for the elevator.

  Two hours later, he returned to his office, convinced the marketing department was staffed by squirrels. Even though they seemed to get good results, he made a note to feel out Joe about them. And his mom, as well. She usually had a pretty good take on people.

  After three phone calls and an unscheduled visit from an important client, he turned to his inbox only to have two detectives drop in with a courtesy call to inform him that Hendricks and Lasky had been arrested that morning. He sent an e-mail to his uncle and pushed the matter out of his mind until time for the afternoon news.

  His mother was already in Joe’s office when Reece got there. They waited through the national news. When the reporter started on local news, Joe’s tension filled the room. Reece’s mother twisted a handkerchief, and Reece sat up and leaned forward.

  “Well, at least it’s not the lead story,” his mother said when the reporter started talking about a City Council disagreement over park maintenance.

  “Next up, local executive arrested for blackmail.”

  “Here we go,” Reece said and got up to pace until the commercials gave way to the anchor, who had assumed an expression of extreme seriousness.

  “A local firm is under attack today by former employees. Ferguson Inc., the largest employer in the city, has a policy prohibiting fraternization among employees.” He looked up at the camera and flashed a polished smile. “A little Stone Age, of course, but not illegal. An employee fraternized a little too closely with her boss and was fired. Well, fair enough. She knew the rule. But she decided to retaliate by blackmailing the company.” He shook his head. “Not the correct way to right a wrong, people. When the new CEO heard about the matter, he fired the boss too. The boss then joined the blackmail attempt and the CEO called in the police.

  “We understand the new CEO, Reece Ferguson, has issued a directive that the nonfraternization policy be amended to include only employees in a direct supervisor-subordinate relationship. A little more up to date, in my opinion.” He smiled at the camera, and the program shifted to the weather girl.

  “I’d say that has worked out well for the company,” Reece’s mother said. “You see, Joe? I told you Reece could handle it.”

  “And you were right. Good job, my boy. I think you’re both right about a vacation too. Susie, that cruise sounds good. When do we leave?”

  “Friday.”

  Bessie had put on her jacket and prepared to leave for the day when Reece returned to his office. “I watched the news in your office, Reece. It sounds as though the Hendricks problem is solved.” She put a filmy scarf around her neck, lifting her hair and snugging the scarf under it.

  Reece stared at her. That dull, artificial-looking brown hair… No. It couldn’t be. For one wild second he imagined ripping off her clothes to see what color…

  Bessie gazed back at him with wide, alarmed eyes. “Reece? Is something wrong?”

  He had to think. “No. Go on home, Bessie. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said with a superhuman effort to sound normal.

  Chapter Ten

  Sleep hadn’t been an option for Reece, and when he stared into the mirror the next morning, it showed. Ever since he’d arrived from England and run into Ms. Mystery, he’d awakened with a raging hard-on. This morning, sex didn’t even sound appealing.

  He could scarcely believe it, but his luscious, mesmerizing mystery woman and his prim, repressed, good-girl admin were one and the same. At some level he must have known, even though he didn’t know. No wonder he’d found Bessie inexplicably hot. Oh God, What was he going to do?

  He couldn’t give up Bex. He couldn’t get involved with Bessie. Joe’s wrath would ruin him. Not to mention what his mom might do to him if she ever learned what he and Ms. Mystery had been up to.

  Some days it just didn’t pay to get out of bed.

  Maybe she wouldn’t come to work this morning? Of course she would. She didn’t know he’d seen that dull brown curl poking out from under the wig. He wondered how long she intended to keep up the deception. And how the bloody hell had she ended up at Milady’s Pleasure? She had been a virgin, and she’d been even more of a novice to the whole bondage scene.

  He had to talk to her.

  She arrived early, which apparently was her habit, and she wore another one of those shapeless suits that didn’t even hint at the mouthwatering shape underneath. She looked straitlaced. Prudish, puritanical, and completely devoid of fun. He knew better.

  When he called her into his office, she stopped just inside the door, looking puzzled to find him standing in the middle of the room instead of sitting behind his desk. “Shut the door, Bessie,” he said. Even though no one else was in the building yet, he didn’t want anyone overhearing this “meeting.” He turned to the bank of electronics on one wall and flicked on the front lobby monitor, so he’d know when someone entered the building.

  She did and turned back to him. “Is something wrong, Mr.—Reece?”

  He looked her up and down, disbelief and anger warring within him. “How the hell do you get that awful color on your hair?” he demanded.

  She went white. “Wha…?”

  In another second she’d be flat on the floor. “Here. Sit before you fall down.” He took her elbow and got her to the couch in one corner of his office.

  “I mean, I know who you are after work. Your nom de sex club, as it were. I know you’re a redhead, and you’re dynamite in the sack…and the rack…and the sling.”

  With each statement, she grew paler and sicker looking until he moved a wastebasket to her side just in case.

  “He told you? Oh no. I don’t—how—what—oh no,” she wailed. “I didn’t want anyone to know.”

  “I can understand that.” Yeah, he sure could. Too late he realized that he’d almost stuck his foot in it, but she didn’t seem to recognize him as her Mr. X. Dodged that bullet. His anger bled away, only to smack back full force when he realized he’d never be able to be with Bex again. It would only be a matter of time before she caught on.

  He couldn’t do that to her. He’d have to tell her.

  “I’m sorry, Bessie.” He took a seat facing her and leaned forward. “This isn’t easy, but I have to—” When she looked up at him with wide, tear-filled eyes, his throat closed, cutting off the words.

  “Please don’t fire me, Mr.—Reece. ” She blotted her eyes.

  Just when he thought she’d break down in tears and beg to keep her job, she straightened. While he watched, she squared her shoulders and looked him in the eye. “Are you going to fire me?" she demanded. “Because what I do on my own time doesn’t—”

  “Bex. Bessie. Stop. I’m not going to fire you. I’m trying to tell you something important. Listen to me.”

  “I’m listening.” Her gaze met his, full of fierce independence.

  “I— I—Bessie, I’m your Mr. X.”

  She jerked as though he’d tased her. Her face went blank, and she stared at him for a long, tense moment before color began to rise in her cheeks. “You’re Mr. X,” she said, her voice high and thready.

  He couldn’t tell if she was going to explode or faint.

  She did neither. She stood, a bit awkwardly, like a marionette with broken strings. After another long, staring moment, she turned and w
alked out of the office.

  “Take the rest of the day off,” he called after her. “Get a cab and go home. I’ll see you tomorrow morning after you’ve had a chance to calm down.”

  After he’d had a chance to calm down.

  * * * *

  Bessie fought back her tears until she’d reached her apartment, locked the four locks on the door, and collapsed on her bed. Mother had been so right. Trying to be anything except a proper good girl led straight to perdition. Mr. Ferguson was Mr. X. How could she go back to the office? Every time he looked at her, he’d be remembering the things she had done. The things they had done.

  When she couldn’t cry any more, she got up and crawled into the shower. She should probably make it icy cold, something that could dampen the fires that had led her to ruin, but the warmth felt so good. The water streamed over her, washing away some of the guilt and misery.

  When the touch of the water began to feel good against her skin, she began to consider what had happened. Maybe Mother hadn’t been so right after all. After all, she hadn’t been fired. She hadn’t been outed publicly. And she’d enjoyed every single minute of her time with Mr. X. Maybe she wasn’t a good girl at heart, not really.

  Maybe…

  Enough. She pulled on her old chenille robe—Mother’s choice, of course. A trickle of resentment surfaced. Who had even heard of chenille these days?—and went to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. Sitting at the little table in the bay window in the living room, she looked out at the street, just like Mother. Mother often sat here, watching the neighbors, keeping an eye on who did what with whom.

  She didn’t want to live life on the sidelines like that. Bex wanted to live a full and joyous life. Not all sex and parties. Work and responsibility were good…but so were sex and parties.

  Mother had been a lonely, repressed woman, old before her time, and she’d trained Bessie well. But maybe it was time for Bex to get her own life. Maybe it was time for Bex to take over days as well as nights.

  The only hitch was Mr. X. Mr. Ferguson. Reece. How was that going to work out? Could she manage to be Bessie at work and Bex at play? A picture of herself holding a flogger and using it on Mr. X flashed through her mind. She liked it. It could work. As long as she didn’t think too much about him and the things they’d done—and of course the minute she thought that, his image came clear in her mind. She admired him for a moment. Yes, it could work. But did she want to be prim Bessie all her life now that she’d tasted the glory of being Bex? She didn’t have to think about it. She certainly did not. When she’d absorbed the shock of that, she had an idea. Reece had given her the day off to calm herself. Wouldn’t he be surprised at how calm and together she was going to be by tomorrow morning?

  Step one: salon, and get her unbelievably unattractive hair cut into something short and sassy and dyed back to its real, hot, flaming red. Eyebrows too. She’d always hated dying her eyebrows. That simply did not seem like a safe thing to do—oops. Was that Bessie taking over again? Nope. Bex could be hot, and a little wild, but she wasn’t stupid. Dye and eye might rhyme, but those two things were not a good mix. Thank goodness this would be the last time. And no more brown mascara to cover her red eyelashes.

  Step two: clothes. The shapeless suits and old-lady shoes had to go. Bex owned only the two outfits she’d worn on the nights that Mr. X could see her. She wanted to make a splash at the office, but the tsunami caused by skin-tight and sparkly wouldn’t do.

  Bex carried the unfinished tea to the bedroom, so eager to begin the transformation she couldn’t wait. Staring into the closet gave her pause, but she ignored it as best she could. She might have picked out the ugliest clothes in the world before, but today she’d do it right. The least unattractive garments were a pair of jeans that had shrunk enough to be not-quite-baggy-Mom-jeans, and a tank. Mother had insisted she layer it under other shirts to preclude any hint of cleavage. Mom, I loved you, but it’s time for a change. Cleavage exists, and I embrace it. So did Mr. X. She giggled.

  The transformation took all morning. She’d used all her admin-honed skills to get an appointment at the city’s leading salon, and Monsieur Christophe himself had supervised the color transformation and styled her hair in a short, sassy cut. Even the jeans and tank didn’t look so bad paired with the new hairstyle. In fact, she looked like a TV star. Better late than never. Time to do something about those old dreams of hers.

  She went to the city’s hippest department store for lunch and an orgy of new clothes. She walked out of the store in a new, hot-girl outfit that showed some real attitude, and headed straight for a photographer to get some I’m-applying-for-a-job-and-I’m-what-you-want pictures.

  The first thing she did when she got home was sit down at her computer and send a job application to the local TV station. Reece had said she wasn’t fired. Good. But she didn’t want to be staid old Bessie Edna anymore. That job would pay the bills until she found her dream.

  Purging her closet of old clothes gave her a thrill of anticipation, plus a twinge of guilt. Mother would have hated the low-rise trousers and high heels, and the bright red suit most of all. Bex put the jacket on one of the new padded hangers she’d bought. Even in the closet, it made her feel beautiful. She touched the soft, thin wool of the sleeve. Severe, business-like, and a pop of color that said, “Look at me.” She loved it. Oh, but tomorrow was going to be fun.

  * * * *

  Bex arrived at the office almost an hour early. Just as she’d hoped, the light was on in Reece’s office when she arrived. She made a brief detour to the ladies’ room to check her appearance—yes, the red suit was perfect. Under it, she wore a very ladylike, very sexy lace-trimmed camisole that was just suggestive enough to remind someone who had been there how much he enjoyed her breasts.

  She didn’t stop at her—at Bessie’s—desk, just headed across the room to Reece’s door. She’d have to put in a request for a new nameplate, one that said Bex instead of Bessie Edna. She’d bet no one would recognize her without that.

  She tapped lightly, heart pounding in anticipation.

  When Reece said “Come in,” she opened the door and stepped in. Closed the door and leaned against it with her hands behind her.

  He dropped his pen. It rolled to the edge of the desk and plopped to the floor with a little spray of ink. Bex’s gaze followed it. He used an old-fashioned fountain pen, and she’d never noticed.

  “Good morning, Reece,” she said in the low murmur of his Ms. Mystery.

  “You— What— No,” he sputtered.

  “You told me to come to work this morning. After I’d calmed myself. I’m calm, Reece. Calm and collected and very sure of who I am.”

  “You can’t be here.”

  She’d expected shock, but not outright rejection. “I work here. Hadn’t you noticed?”

  “Bessie works here.”

  “Well, I’m the new, improved Bessie. Don’t you like it?” She turned slowly, giving him a view of the fit of the skirt over what he had pronounced an excellent butt only a couple of nights ago.

  The heat of his gaze said he liked it very much, but he continued to resist.

  She slipped the jacket off. “It’s warm in here, isn’t it.”

  His gaze went molten hot and locked on her breasts. “Hot.”

  “But I wouldn’t do anything…inappropriate…at work,” she murmured. “I’d save all that for the evening. If someone wanted to help me relax, for instance. With a glass of wine…maybe a little massage…maybe someone could touch me and make me feel so good…”

  “You can’t—Joe—”

  “Really, Reece. I didn’t come in here to jump your bones.” Her voice implied just the opposite. “Did you expect me to walk in and start doing a striptease? How could your uncle possibly object if we keep our on-site behavior—oof.”

  He had lunged from behind the desk and scooped her up in a fireman’s carry over one broad shoulder. He set her on a low coffee table and moved to the cabinet that held
liquor and a stereo system. Without looking, he punched the On button, and the throbbing beat of “The Jack” filled the room. Whoever would have expected suit-and-tie Mr. Ferguson to listen to that? Mr. X, sure, but this was Ferguson’s domain.

  “Go on,” he said hoarsely, throwing himself onto the sofa flanking the table.

  Surely he didn’t expect… “What?”

  “Dance. Go ahead. Strip.”

  “No!”

  “Come on, Bex.” His voice went low and seductive, causing some kind of meltdown inside her bones. “I know how you move. I want to see it. Now.”

  The commanding dom from the other night sounded in his voice, and Bex’s feet began to move. Hips and shoulders followed in a sinuous celebration of the music, the memory, and the look on his face.

  By the time AC/DC had finished and 2Pac had gotten into his rap, Bex had gotten down to garters and lacy thong and started to worry about how she could get the stockings off without looking like a clumsy cow.

  She needn’t have worried. As “California Love” faded into “Red Song,” Reece came off the couch and plucked her from the table. He let her slide down slowly, slowly, until her feet touched the floor. His mouth came down on hers and his hands covered her breasts and it was Milady’s Pleasure all over again. “The door isn’t locked,” she tried to say, but her mouth was full of tongue, his tongue, and his hands did magic things to her nipples, and she really didn’t care if the whole company bought tickets and watched.

  She shoved his jacket off his shoulders and attacked his tie. Somehow enough of his clothes got out of the way, and she sank to the carpet, pulling him after her. She pushed his briefs down, cupping that wonderful, tight butt on the way.

  Every inch of him needed to be touched. With her hands. Her mouth. She pushed him over onto his back and leaned over him, kissing her way from jaw to navel.

  His hips surged upward, and he moaned.

  “Reece,” she whispered, loving that she could say his name. She pressed her cheek to his belly and blew gently on the impressive inches of his erection. It quivered, begging for her attention.