The Power of Tess

by Angelina J. Windsor

She smiles, arching her eyebrows, “Kevin likes it. Says it makes him think about getting a blowjob.”

  I choke on my milk and it spews out my nose. Mopping it up with a tissue I hastily pull from my pocket, I blow my nose and clear my throat.

  Monica laughs. “You’ve got to get out more, girlfriend. You might try a darker shade yourself. I highly recommend it.” She licked her lips, mocking me with her knowing eyes.

  Monica knows all about my poor track record at attracting a boyfriend and probably thinks she’s being helpful. If only Monica knew what I’m up to today, she’d be shocked right out of her knickers. Then I remember the “knickers” I’ll be wearing in a few hours and my heart rate speeds up. I like to keep my friends entertained with my Southern sayings so I quip back, making it up as I go figuring it’ll sound about right, “I declare, Monica. Aren’t you just as smug as a hog wallowin’ in the cool mud.”

  It was her turn to snort. I get the expected added laugh before she asks, “Some of us are going to Shenanigans for drinks tonight. Want to come?”

  “Yeah, sure,” I respond automatically, anything to get my mind off things. I’ll need to decompress after my second job. But oh, the money will be welcomed. I’ve been trying to keep my mind focused on that simple glorious fact.

  We agree on a time and I excuse myself to go to work. The next three hours pass far too quickly. I keep hoping something will happen. I don’t know what, but something. I’m in favor of time actually stopping, but it’s business as usual and I’m home right at four on the dot. I just have a few minutes to change and get back into traffic to reach the gated community of Freeport before five. I’m in such a rush it gives me no time to rethink my decision. For that I’m not sorry because a part of me does want to chicken out. I mean, my goodness, look what I’m going to do for money. Ho comes to mind and I shake it away. Just a business transaction for a lonely old guy. Yeah, a lonely old, creepy guy.

  I pull a peasant skirt and a hoodie over the outfit and put my heels into my bag. Grabbing my keys, I head to the parking lot at the back of our block and get into my old friend Charlie—delivered early that morning, just as Jonathon had promised. I head out, map and the emailed instructions about specific behavior on the seat beside me. I’ve studied them as if for an exam and I know them by heart. I will not be able to speak with the client, nor he with me. Actually I’m okay with that. I run through the list from memory one last time in my head as I drive down the busy street.

  1. Tell the security guard at the gate that you are the cleaning lady. Don’t give your name but use this code phrase: Summer Wine. (This will change each visit for security reasons.)

  2. Pull into the garage and wait for it to close before exiting your vehicle.

  3. Wait for the door between the garage and foyer to be buzzed open, and then step in and remove your outer clothing.

  4. Use the mirror to straighten your clothing, especially the seams in your stockings, and place the cap on your head.

  5. Before you push the doorbell to alert that you are fully prepared, make sure you have your feather duster in hand.

  6. Dust only in the living room, located to your right as you enter. Spend a good deal of the time on the crystal display—at least thirty of the allotted sixty minutes.

  7. At no time are you to enter any other room on the premises.

  8. When the bell rings, exit the living room, reversing your earlier actions.

  9. Thank you for obeying the rules.

  The guy has to be anal retentive, right? But it is amazing money for an hour’s work so I’m committed. I’d have to work at the bookstore for three solid weeks to make the same. Just before five o’clock I pull up at the gate. The man’s rich. That was glaringly obvious. I idly wonder who he is as I give the unsmiling guard the security words. Is he someone I might recognize? That makes the most sense, to require all this cloak-and-dagger-stuff. Or maybe it just added to the thrill. Who knows, really, what’s in another’s mind?

  Feeling a sense of dislocation and pure determination in equal parts, I drive down the long curving driveway and into the garage, which is already open, obviously awaiting my arrival. I park and turn off Charlie and check my watch. Three minutes to five.

  Clambering out of the half-ton, I grab the bag holding my shoes, cap and feather duster off the seat, close the door, and make my way over to the glass-enclosed foyer. The door instantly buzzes and I know I’m already under surveillance. Placing the bag on the bench in the small room, I do as I have been instructed. The full-length mirror makes it easy to tidy up and soon I’m as prepared as I’ll ever be. I look too pale. More blush next time.

  A clock somewhere inside chimes the hour and I walk through the final door.

  Chapter Ten

  As the clock’s last note fades away, I walk along the hallway and take the first door on my right. The living room is huge, lined with shelves of porcelain dolls, a rainbow of glass vases, crystal figurines and fancy ashtrays no one would use. Strange really, not all what I was expecting. I firmly take up the feather duster and try not to wobble on my four-inch heels as I begin my chores. I know my seams are straight and my thong is in place for it’s riding up my bottom in a most annoying fashion. I’d checked myself in the mirror to see if anyone could really see anything and I’m fairly certain that if I’m careful, I’ll stay covered by the scrap of sheer white lace.

  The crystal collection I’m to focus on waits on the very bottom level of a glass-shelved display. Of course. My heart sinks.

  I move about the room and actually try to dust. He might as well get his money’s worth.

  O—kay. This is so-o lame. I’m at the crystal. I bend down to reach the bottom shelf, my ponytail slipping forward from the movement, and begin to dust in earnest. I want this part over with because I’m intimidated by the posture—and yet it’s strangely erotic. My thong grows damp and my nipples stiffen. Whoa! Maybe when I have time for a boyfriend I’ll have some fun with him this way. My ass is in fine shape. I mean, I’m only twenty-one. And I take care of myself. So at least the view I’m offering is a pretty darn good one.

  My position pushes my boobs near out of the uniform top. He must really be getting his jollies somewhere in this palatial mansion.

  “Remove the thong and I will pay you another thousand.”

  The obviously altered voice sounding so close startles me so much I almost fall off my heels. He’s broken his own rules. What gives? Why? The money sounds too good to be true. I chew my bottom lip while I think about it. There’s only about fifteen minutes to go. Surely I can manage.

  “Two thousand more.” The oddly disembodied voice sounds again.

  Cripes. Two thousand dollars for an hour’s work after the house gets its cut. This is so-o not lame! Maybe, just maybe I won’t have to auction my virginity at this growing rate. That thought makes the decision easy.

  I lay down the duster and pull down my panties and ease them off my shoes, one at a time. Feeling totally exposed is an odd sensation. Erotic and naughty, a sensual dyad of equal parts, I think, proud to remember the word under such weird circumstances. I take up the feather duster, decide the crystal is fully dusted and move about the room.

  “Do the elephant one more time,” the man behind the voice commands.

  The crystal elephant! In for a penny, in for a pound. I take a deep breath and do as I’m told, feeling the cool air caressing my exposed labia. They open a bit from my bending over. He can see more than I ever have. I’m beet red now—as red as my hair. A flush of blood pumps throughout my body. How long am I supposed to stay in this position pretending to dust what I have already dusted? Not a very efficient use of my time. Like that’s what he’s worried about.

  “Perfect. Thank you,” the voice says and I stand up in relief. I check my watch and see I have five minutes to go. I trail a little more about the room and finally the clock I heard earlier begins to chime the time. By the sixth bell I’m out of the room and headed to the foyer, panties and feather
duster in hand. I quickly dress.

  Escaping the compound, I drive away. I cannot believe what I have just done. Emotions swirl through me and I’m equal parts horrified and aroused. I rub myself. It feels good. There is an acute ache in my nether regions that would like something to happen. Sex is a basic need, Tess. The voice just pops into my head. And you were consenting to it so no regrets, please. Think of how the money is going to help. I succumb to the voice of reason. But I suddenly wish for a real boyfriend.

  My cell phone beeps and I pick it up to check the incoming message. How did you manage that? It’s from Jonathon and my heart thuds. I quickly text back that I’ll contact him later, though teasingly add that maybe I’m better at this game than he expected with a winking happy face added for good measure. Anything more would be safer to send from my computer, so it can be encrypted. I’m happy that I made so much extra money from the job.

  Just like a lot of regular business dealings, we split the proceeds fifty-fifty. He’s obviously surprised at his end today. I get out of the truck and hurry into the apartment. I want to change before Sally gets home. And there is something I’m just dying to do but first I need a shower.

  I enjoy the heat as it washes away the day. Stepping out, I wrap my hair in a towel and dry off. It’s now or never. I grab a hand mirror and sit down on the side of the tub and spread my legs wide. Positioning the mirror, I take my first real look. My pussy is so pink and sleek and exquisitely formed that I can see why men are so turned on by seeing it. It’s pretty in its soft vulnerability. I take two fingers and spread the outer lips. Inside it looks just like a flower. I touch my clitoris and feel it instantly respond. I rub it a bit and am surprised at how the area flushes with heat and color. I’m behind the times, only doing this at twenty-one, but in by defense I have been raised by a woman who kept me too busy to even give a thought to much more than school, work, and getting ahead in life. I get up and check out the back view to see what the client saw. Whoa. He got an eyeful. I blush at the intense memory and set the mirror down.

  I’m compelled to do more. My fingers find that sweet, swollen spot between my legs. Enjoying the sensation, I sit and spread my thighs further apart. My head lolls backwards. My fingers sped up their action, spreading my moisture. So good. My clit vibrates, slick and greedy. I grasp at it, massaging it between my thumb and forefinger. Another finger slips up inside and I come, the orgasm overtaking me, my inner muscles contracting with pleasure at the intensity of the release.

  Swallowing hard, I gather myself. Self-love is good, I think to myself, smiling into the mirror. I apply makeup and dry my hair in anticipation of a rare evening out. I really need to socialize tonight. School is done for the summer, my stint at the bookstore is nearly ended, and I have a new job that pays a lot.

  Donning the essential jeans, I decide on one of my two fancy tops—a silky midnight blue number that bares my arms and neck. Pulling my hair atop my head, I spend a few minutes pinning it in the haphazard way that’s so fashionable at the moment. I add dangling earrings and a light spray of perfume. Satisfied, I check my e-mail. A message from Jonathon invites me to meet him for dinner tonight. I find him far too appetizing and that’s not good. Also, why would he want to socialize with me? It’s supposed to be just business between us, one kiss notwithstanding. But I can’t help a tug of excitement at the idea of seeing him again. And a part of me badly wants to toy with him for his arousing, over-the-top, misleading kiss.

  I respond that I’m going out to celebrate with my classmates. If he wants to meet me for a drink beforehand, I’ll be leaving in half an hour, and to meet me at Shenanigans. He may just want to talk about what happened with the client today—just business, like the other night’s bait-and-switch, despite the tone of his invitation. That makes the most sense because he would have to keep tabs on all manner of things while his sister is away.

  I walk into the bar right on time, feeling worldly and much more grown-up than just a week ago.

  Jonathon spies me and comes right over. “Tess, you look lovely.”

  “Thanks, you don’t look half-bad yourself,” I reply with a grin as he takes my hand and I feel the now familiar spark of energy arc between us. I shiver at the sensation. I bet he would appreciate the view I gave earlier today. I blush at my own audacity. Calm down, Tess, I advise myself and order a glass of white wine from the hovering waitress at the bar. I paste a smile on as the waitress fawns all over him. She makes sure his drink is perfect and that he’s happy with it before she moves away and serves another patron. I down half a glass to brace myself and then set it on the bar.

  My friends and I always meet at Shenanigans. We claim one of the alcoves and party the night away. Plus, drinks are half-price for women on Wednesdays, which this just happens to be.

  I smile at Jonathon, admiring his white shirt and tan chinos. The strain showing around his serious eyes suggests he put in a busy day.

  “I checked the receipts today and I noticed your visit had brought in far more than expected. What happened, Tess?”

  I immediately blush, grateful for the dim lighting.

  “He asked me to do a little—extra,” I reply, not certain of how to word it.

  “Extra? What exactly?” His eyes bore uncomfortably into mine.

  “Well, I was dusting like I was supposed to and it was almost time to go. He came on the intercom—”

  “What? He never does that. Not in five years has he spoken to one of the girls. I know because I checked him out thoroughly with Katherine before I offered you the job. I wanted to be sure it was a sure thing—a safe bet.” He runs his hands through his hair with agitation.

  “Well, he must have been in a talkative mood today because he asked me to,” I lean forward and whisper, “take off my panties, bend over, and continue dusting.”

  His eyebrows head skyward and he says nothing for a moment, but takes a large swig of his gin and tonic.

  “You broke protocol today, Tess.” He shakes his head, looking not at all pleased with me.

  “Yes, but doesn’t it also mean that your agency makes more money?” I think I’m the voice of reason and I add, “I mean, the guy just kept upping his offer and I really need the money.”

  “Are you in some kind of trouble?”

  “No, no, of course not!” I vehemently shake my head.

  “I’m not happy about this. When a specialist changes his MO, you have to wonder why. I think maybe we should find you someone else. Damn, and he was so perfect too. An easy gig for you and now—”

  I realize that I might lose the easy work over an error in judgment. I rush to appease him. “Jonathon, it will be fine.”

  “You don’t know that. I will have to discuss this with Katherine. She has far more experience in these issues than I do. I won’t have you taking chances like this in the future, Tess. Is that understood?”

  I reluctantly nod my head. He’s the boss.

  I swallow the rest of my wine, feeling put out. Here I thought I had done such a grown-up thing and I was being chastised for it. Who would have guessed he’d be so-o protective? I can barely keep myself from rolling my eyes. It’s not like he wants me. He didn’t follow up that kiss with any suggestions…

  Another glass of wine appears and I tackle it.

  “Tess, I didn’t know you were meeting someone.” Sally is right behind me and I start guiltily, turning to face her.

  “Sally, yes, uh, this is Jonathon.” I try to think fast, stumbling over the introductions, which last name is the right one? I can see now why it’s so important to keep your first name.

  But before I can figure it out, he holds out his hand to her and speaks, “Jonathon Rothschild. Pleased to meet you.”

  “Sally Decker, nice to meet you too, Jonathon.” Sally’s appraising him as she shakes his hand. She doesn’t find him lacking judging by her coy smile. She’s looking less wild child tonight. Ah, her hair is a normal shade of blonde and her clothes are hip, but not funky.

 
“Are you Tess’s new boss?” She has easily put together the pieces of the puzzle.

  He nods.

  “Well, if you are looking for tall blondes, I’m your girl,” she quips.

  He appraises her and looks to me and I give my head a slight shake, meaning she doesn’t have a clue as to what is really going on.

  “Well, our agency is more into the petite lines. But if we ever branch out, you’d be perfect,” he smoothly fills the gap and I breathe a sigh of relief. I just can’t bear the thought of anyone else knowing what I’m doing. If you don’t talk about something it never becomes real. At least that’s my stance even if it’s delusional—it’s worked for my family for years.

  Sally turns to me. “The police left a message on the answering machine for you to call them.”

  I check my cell phone and sure enough I’ve got a message from the officer there too. I’ve been so preoccupied that I missed it.

  “I could take you there right now and you can get the official statement over with,” Jonathon suggests.

  Surely it could wait till tomorrow? I so-o want to just have some fun tonight.

  “It won’t take long. I gave my statement this morning and it was quick. Best to get it done, Heavenly Tess,” he coaxes.

  “Just Tess,” I respond, not wanting him to get into the habit of calling me that, but I can see he’s teasing by the twinkle in his eyes.

  His words persuade me and I reluctantly nod. Time to clear up loose ends and then I can celebrate in the clear.

  “Let Monica know that I’ll be back soon, Sally,” I say as I slide off the stool.

  “Sure, but there’s no need to hurry back. We’ll be shutting this place down.” I feel her eyes boring into my back as we leave and wonder what kind of inquisition I’ll face later.

  “Let’s take mine,” Jonathon suggests and I obediently follow him. “Just tell them exactly what happened and you’ll be out of there in no time,” he advises as we head into traffic.

  “No worries,” I automatically respond, my mind going back over all the events of late. I do have a lot of worries that I can’t share. I’m nervous as all heck to talk to the cops so I look for something funny to say and come up with, “That robber was lower than a snake’s belly in a wagon rut. And he didn’t show as much sense as God gave a goose.”