by Lexie Ray
I frowned at that, wondering just what it was she’d said. I hoped it was nothing along the lines of “Pumpkin doesn’t want to be forced to do something she doesn’t want to do.” Surely Cream wouldn’t do that to me.
The binder listed chores that should be done every day, including dishes, basic cleanup, dusting, sweeping, and mopping. The floor was so time-consuming, but it gave us a chance to talk about things as we worked side by side.
Special tasks the binder mentioned included washing the windows, laundry, organization, polishing the silver, washing the crystal, and a variety of other tasks. For our extra chore, we picked washing the windows, which turned into an ordeal. They were from the floor to the ceiling, requiring a ladder.
“We are going to keep this place sparkling,” Cream said, sounding like she relished the task. “He’s going to be so pleased.”
I didn’t respond to that, spraying my bottle of glass cleaner as I concentrated on balancing. It was hard to be on the ladder, clearing the window of dust and smudges. Andrew’s home was at the top of his building, which afforded a lot of incredible views. My only problem was that I had terrible vertigo. I couldn’t look down at all without getting sick and dizzy. I was afraid I’d fall from the ladder if I so much glanced at the street, hundreds of feet below us.
“Are you sure you’re okay up there?” Cream asked, putting her hands on her hips and looking up at me. “You’re looking a little green.”
“I’m fine,” I said, waving away her concerns with my paper towel. “You can do the next pane and I’ll hand you up the supplies.”
“Fair enough,” Cream said, shrugging. “At least we’re not those guys.”
She pointed at an adjacent building and I fought the urge to gag. A pair of window cleaners were standing in a scaffolding, washing and drying the outside windows of a very tall building.
“And that would be the end of me,” I said, concentrating on my windowpane and only my windowpane.
“Are you afraid you’d fall?” Cream asked. “It looks like they have some kind of railing.”
“No,” I said. “I’d probably just die of a heart attack.”
Cream laughed. “Poor Pumpkin. You’re afraid of heights.”
“Terrified,” I confirmed grimly.
“You should’ve told me,” she said. “Come on. Get down from that ladder. There’s no need to torture yourself. I can do the ladder work if you get everything down low.”
Being on the floor didn’t help much. I still had to look down to the street as I wiped, but at least there was no danger of fainting and falling from the ladder.
We finished with our chores in plenty of time, so we went to our bedroom to organize our new belongings.
“Let’s get all glamorous for dinner,” Cream proposed, clapping her hands together and looking like a little girl excited over playing a game.
“All right,” I said, shrugging. We had our showers and did our hair and makeup. I couldn’t help but think back on the last night we’d done this—at Jason’s place, before he’d sold us.
“I really want to impress Andrew tonight,” Cream said. “Do you know any over the top recipes? My brother and I pretty much existed on ramen noodles.”
“What about the tacos that I first made at Mama’s?” I asked.
“Perfect,” Cream said. “Those are so different and delicious. Let’s look beautiful for him and have those all piping hot and ready when he walks in the door.”
It was easy to get caught up in Cream’s enthusiasm. I found myself wanting to please Andrew, hoping that he loved the tacos, putting extra care into flavoring the oil with spices before dipping the tacos in to fry.
The entire home was fragrant with the smell of them by the time Andrew opened the door.
“I could smell it all the way down at the elevator,” he said, licking his lips. “What in the world is it?”
“Puerto Rican tacos,” Cream said, beaming as she put the last plate of them on the table. “Pumpkin’s very own recipe.”
“I’m afraid you all are going to make me fat and complacent,” Andrew said, patting his belly after he took the first bite. “Two beautiful women and delicious food. These tacos are amazing.”
I flushed with pleasure. “I’m glad you like them,” I said. I surprised myself with my sincerity. I actually was truly happy that he thought they were delicious. I wondered at myself and what this meant. Did I actually care about Andrew?
Cream and I watched television as Andrew went over a dossier of something from his job. I watched him out of the corner of my eye as he frowned, going over several pages of something I couldn’t see. What made him tick? And how did he survive in the business world—or the real world, for that matter—if he had been in that seedy basement, bidding on us?
Had he done something like that before? Or were we the first women he’d ever purchased?
Andrew seemed normal enough, if a little controlling. Perhaps Cream had it right—he was normal, but just had rules. He was obviously successful. They probably worked. Maybe I wasn’t giving him enough of a chance to prove himself to me. Maybe I needed to open myself up before he would.
For all my thoughts, I was still relieved when Cream left the room to be with him for the night—not me.
“Are you sure you won’t come with me?” she implored. “It would make Andrew so happy.”
“Not tonight,” I said, shaking my head.
“He’s going to start getting suspicious,” Cream warned, and I wondered what she knew as she shut the door.
They were especially loud that night, I couldn’t help but notice. Cream had a filthy mouth on her and was full of creative suggestions. I wondered if he was doing each and every one of them to her, or if she was just building the mood.
For some of the suggestions, I couldn’t help but be aroused. I imagined them together, drawing pictures in my mind of their coupling. It was hot, even though I felt a little embarrassed at my imagination. Neither of them had to know what I was thinking. My fantasies were safe in my head.
Besides, I encouraged myself, being attracted to the thought of them now would help me later, when I did decide to sleep with Andrew.
I slipped my hand beneath the lacy hem of my teddy, running the very tip of my finger between my lips gently.
“Harder, baby!” Cream cried. “Right there!”
My breath caught in my throat as I imagined her tossing her beautiful brown hair, Andrew pounding her with his apparently prodigious cock. My fingers gingerly massaged my clitoris, building up to a rhythm I knew well.
“You’re gonna make me come,” she moaned. “Oh God. You’re so fucking kinky. Yes. Yes!”
With one of my hands occupied, I sucked on two of the fingers of my other hand, enjoying the sensation while thoroughly wetting them. Lubricated, they slipped easily into my slickening pussy, probing deep as I imagined the look on Andrew’s face as he pushed into Cream, the sheen of the sweat on their bodies, the way they grabbed at each other.
I twisted beneath the covers, rolling onto my stomach so I could fuck myself harder with my fingers. My breasts pressed up against the bed, and I imagined it was Andrew’s hands on them, fondling them.
Cream gave a heart-rending scream and Andrew shouted out with her, their voices mingling as they came together. I screwed my eyes shut and squeezed my inner muscles, my hands pushing furiously against my body.
I muffled my own moan with my pillow as Andrew and Cream’s cries of completion died down. I removed my fingers from my pussy as the last sweet strums of orgasm resounded through my body. Sleep was instantaneous.
I don’t know what woke me up, but I was awake immediately. Someone was in the room with me.
“Pumpkin?”
“Andrew?” I asked softly, my voice a little thick despite my alertness.
“I didn’t mean to wake you up,” he said. “Well, I guess I did. I came to check on you. That was my original plan. Cream’s asleep and I wanted to make sure you were, too, but
I guess I wanted to talk. Can we?”
“Sure,” I said.
I padded out of the room after him, my pussy still feeling wet and warm from my little pleasure session. I wondered how long I’d been asleep for. The kitchen clock told me it was just after five in the morning.
“Do you usually wake up this early?” I asked, squinting at the sudden glare as he flipped the lights on.
“Sometimes,” he said, getting the espresso machine going. “When I have something on my mind.” I watched him for a moment. He was handsome in the way just-fucked men were—his hair tousled from the bed, cotton pants accentuating the shape of his body beneath the thin fabric, a T-shirt barely containing his muscles. Maybe I’d sleep with him soon. Maybe sooner than soon. He looked deliriously good.
What could possibly be on his mind? Cream should’ve blown it, I thought, based solely on the volume of their fucking.
I did my waiting game, getting the carton of juice from the refrigerator and pouring myself a glass. If he had something on his mind, he could say it.
“Come sit by me,” Andrew said.
I pulled out a chair, but he patted his lap instead. I gave an inner shrug and perched on one of his legs. His hard muscles pushed straight through me and inadvertently stimulated my pussy. It was too sensitive from earlier. I hoped I could keep my cool. I didn’t want him to know what he was doing to me.
“That’s better,” Andrew said, smiling. I had to twist around to look at him, pleasuring myself unbearably as I did so. I had to bite my lip to keep from panting. How could I be so aroused just by sitting on his lap?
“You’re a lovely, beautiful girl, Pumpkin,” Andrew said, running his hands lightly down my arms until they rested in my own lap. I struggled not to squirm. It wouldn’t be because of discomfort this time. No, this time I would be squirming out of arousal. I fought for control, not liking the automatic reaction my body was having to him.
“Thank you,” I said. “You’ve been very kind to both Cream and me.”
“Cream is a good girl, too, but you’re both very different—in looks as well as in personality,” Andrew continued. “Tell me. Do you two get along well?”
“Of course,” I said immediately. “She’s like a sister to me.”
“That’s good to hear,” he said. “I wouldn’t want there to be any rancor between you ladies under this roof. I want everyone happy here.”
“We are,” I said. “We’re both very happy.”
“Are you?” Andrew challenged. “I can tell that Cream is happy. She wears her heart on her sleeve, which has its advantages. You, Pumpkin, keep your heart hidden someplace far away. It’s hard to tell what you’re thinking.”
I swallowed, trying not to be nervous. I’d known that this day would probably come—the day I’d have to answer to Andrew for not showing him affection beyond some light flirting and pecked kisses. I just hadn’t thought it’d be so soon. I thought Cream would distract him for a while. I was obviously wrong.
“It’s like Cream said at the beginning,” I said, thinking back to our ride from the hotel basement to Andrew’s building. “I’ve always been pretty shy. Ever since I was a girl.”
“And when does the shyness stop?” Andrew asked me, his face kind. “When do I get to know the real Pumpkin?”
The real Pumpkin? I wasn’t sure that anyone knew her. I was careful, observant, cautious above all, calculating, and sometimes frighteningly cold. I thought back on the day the police raided Mama’s nightclub, how I’d nearly run away from Cream—nearly left her behind to save myself. That Pumpkin was a self-preservationist. She was almost like a machine.
I scared myself sometimes.
I made myself smile for Andrew. “I hope you can be patient with me,” I said. “It’s just hard for me to be in a new place.”
“I can understand that,” Andrew said, bouncing his knee a little bit. The small motion sent a shockwave of arousal through me. I turned a sharp inhalation into a tiny cough, trying to mask how my body was involuntarily reacting.
“What can I do to help you adjust?” he asked, his eyes so dark they only barely reflected the light of the fixture in the kitchen. It gave them the illusion of being bottomless. “Would it help to get to know me a little better?”
“Maybe,” I said, finding it hard to break away from that magnetic stare. I did so, regardless, and took a sip of my orange juice. Andrew was shaping up to be enormously charismatic. I didn’t want to fall under his spell at all. I at least wanted to gather up some more puzzle pieces before I allowed myself to be completely and blindly attracted to him, as Cream was.
“Well, that’s easy,” he said. “What do you want to know?”
I shrugged, debating. What did I really want to know? I wanted to know if he’d ever bought anybody before. I wanted to know what he’d do with us if he ever got tired of our presence. I wanted to know why he kept the door locked and didn’t want us to go out while he was gone.
I wanted to know all of those things, but they weren’t things I could ask. Those were things I was going to have to figure out using other methods.
“What is it that you do?” I asked finally. “At work, I mean.”
Andrew smiled. “Overseas security,” he said. “It’s kind of classified stuff.”
I pondered this for a few minutes, the wheels in my brain cranking. It would be easy to give that as an answer for whatever he did. If I started asking too many questions about it, he could use the classified bit to deflect them. It raised my suspicions at once.
“Is that interesting work?” I asked. “It certainly keeps you busy, it seems like.”
“I am very busy,” he admitted, blowing on his espresso before taking a drink. “But it’s rewarding in only the way security work can be. If it all goes well, you never even know we’re there.”
“Do you work through the government?” I asked. I wanted to establish some sense of his character, some idea of what kind of morals or values he might hold.
“No,” he said. “It’s a private firm. Better pay than slaving for the government. Better hours, too.”
That raised another flag for me. If he’d worked for the government—or said he did—I would’ve felt better. There was oversight, there, people looking over your shoulder. Who was looking over the shoulder of a private security firm? I remembered hearing newscasts growing up about contractors going rogue from certain security firms, killing indiscriminately while on assignments. Had they been Andrew’s men?
“And what, exactly, is your role there?” I asked.
“That’s classified,” he said with a grin. “But I can tell you I’m administrative. I don’t work in the field anymore.”
Anymore? That was cold comfort. That meant he had been a soldier for hire at some point. Had he killed before? The question was almost as frightening as any possible answer might be.
I was learning some, but it felt like I was getting further and further away from the big picture. Andrew was giving me answers, but they were obscuring any real sort of revelation. That, in of itself, told me volumes. This was a man with secrets.
It was obvious that Cream and I were a couple of his biggest ones.
I was chilled enough to forget about the way being so close to him was affecting my body—until he shifted again. With a small degree of horror that pierced through my arousal, I realized that my pussy was wet.
“Are you feeling a little more comfortable now?” he asked me, smiling.
“Yes, thank you,” I said, returning the smile.
“I know it has to be tough being away from your family in East Harlem,” Andrew said. “But I hope you’ll soon consider me a part of your family.”
My smile froze on my face. How could he possibly know I was from East Harlem? I took a long drink of juice to hide my shock. Cream. It had to have been Cream. Her pillow talk with Andrew hit just a little too close to home for my liking. I thought I could trust her. Was I going to start having to watch her as closely as I watched And
rew?
Was I going to have to start watching what I said to her? My world shrunk in a span of seconds. The only person I could trust was myself. I’d always known that. It was just hard to think about what Cream might have revealed to Andrew during their intimate times together.
A thought dawned on me. Maybe I’d find out more about Andrew—more valuable details than the throwaway information he’d shared just now—if it was pillow talk.
After I’d slept with him.
I glanced up at the clock. “Should I start some breakfast?” I asked. “I make a mean omelet, if you can stand spicy food in the morning.”
“That sounds amazing,” Andrew said, helping me to hop up off his lap. “Oh, look at this, Pumpkin.”
I turned back to him, my lips pursed in a question, and I flushed to the very roots of my hair. Andrew smirked at me pointing at his thigh, where a very obvious wet spot darkened the cotton of his pants. It was right where I had been sitting, physical evidence of just how aroused I’d been on his lap.
“Don’t be embarrassed, my sweet Pumpkin,” he crooned, laughing as he stood up and hugged me to his body. I could feel his erection press against me. “I welcome this. I was beginning to be afraid that you weren’t at all attracted to me.”
“That’s ridiculous,” I managed to say, wishing for a swift and immediate death to deliver me from my embarrassed horror. “You’re a handsome man. Of course I’m attracted to you.”
“I like you, Pumpkin,” Andrew said, releasing me from the hug. “I like trying to puzzle you out. I know I’m going to figure you all out one of these days. I bet I’ll be a little disappointed once I do, but by that time, I think we’ll know each other inside and out.”
I didn’t like the way this was going. To hide my unease, I turned to the fridge to start gathering ingredients for breakfast. When I glanced back at Andrew, I stopped. He was practically leering at me.
I swallowed and flipped a switch inside of myself, one I’d used many a time at Mama’s nightclub. “Like what you see?” I said suggestively, turning around and bending down deliberately to retrieve a skillet from a low shelf.
