“Well, what if you’re turning me on for real? Am I supposed to pretend I’m not and talk about the weather instead? How does that fit into your plan for authenticity?”
He laughed, a low, sexy sound. “Okay, you’ve got me there. You’re not a law student by any chance, are you?”
“Hardly,” I said, deflating even further. “I was going to go to college, but… well, things happened.”
“What did you want to study?” he asked, not missing a beat.
“Communications.”
“I think you’d be good at that.”
Staring blankly at the laptop in front of me, I thought about it for a moment. I’d been so excited my junior year of high school. Going to visit schools with my mom. Cara was just ten or so then, but she’d loved touring the dorms, walking on the quad, browsing in the huge bookstores, and eating in the cafeterias. Before mom got sick. Back when dad was still around. Back when I had dreams for myself. But now my dreams were for her. For her to earn a degree and get a job she loved. No way was she going to end up with a string of low-wage jobs, struggling to make ends meet. I wasn’t going to let that happen.
“Summer,” came a voice in my ear. I’d been so immersed in my real-life problems that I’d forgotten, for a few moments, that my name was different when I was on the phone.
“I’m here,” I said, vowing to be more attentive. Sultry Sirens occasionally recorded phone calls and listened in for “quality-assurance purposes.” Very little of what Ford and I talked about would sound much like a standard call, but at least I could try not to have long, silent pauses.
“I’m sorry that I accused you of being fake.”
“Most of the time I am,” I said with a rueful little laugh. “On the phone, at least.”
“You’re not,” he said. “Not with me. In some ways, you’re one of the realest people I know. That’s why I apologize for thinking you were acting before. You surprised me. You seem so confident on the phone… I never would have pegged you for having an interest in submission.”
My breath caught a little in my throat. “Well, I’m not sure I do. I’ve never really thought about it.” Well… not much, anyway.
“Let’s fix that, then.”
“What?” I asked, my voice jumping an octave.
“Relax. This is just an academic endeavor. What don’t you like about taking the role of a Dominatrix? Some women really get off on that. Having a man at their beck and call. Having a man serve them.”
“It’s just not me,” I said, thinking about it. “I can play the role if I have to, but I don’t feel comfortable with it.”
“So you mostly perform that role by the book?”
“Yes, if the book you’re referring to is our manual. It has a basic script to follow. That, I can do.”
“Interesting. So, have you ever acted before?”
“No comment,” I said again, but his chuckle reminded me he’d interpret that as a yes. “I’d really like to murder the person who makes me deliver lines like ‘Bend over and touch your toes so that Mistress can punish you.’”
“Sounds like your script needs new writers,” he said. “Is it any better for the submissive role?”
I flipped to that chapter and scanned down the page. “Not really. Still pretty cheesy stuff. But at least I don’t have to make the decisions. I follow the caller’s lead, not the other way around.”
“So you like the submissive role because it’s easier.”
“I like it because it’s more exciting,” I said, and then clamped a hand over my mouth. I hadn’t known I was going to say that.
Ford seemed surprised, too, but he immediately pounced. “Why?”
“I don’t know,” I said, prying my hand away from my reddened face. Why had I told him that?
“Then think about it.”
Crap. “I told you… I haven’t tried either role for real. But… the submissive role just sounds…more exciting,” I finished, my vocabulary apparently failing me. Maybe I should keep a thesaurus on my desk instead of the manual. “I mean, I think I might like it. I don’t really know for sure.”
“Let’s test your theory,” he continued, speaking firmly as I let out a muffled squeak of protest. “We’re going to try one quick experiment. To see how it makes you feel. Nothing like what your wannabe phone doms who choose #8 would do. All right?”
I hadn’t the slightest clue what I was getting myself into, but somehow, I trusted him. “Okay.”
“What are you wearing?”
A quick laugh bubbled up in my throat before I could stop it. “You are the last person I expected to hear that question from.”
He sounded amused, too. “I agree that men as a gender are not very original in our lines of questioning. But the question still stands, and I expect a truthful answer.” He was using a firm tone again, and something inside me seemed to sit up and take notice.
“Tan shorts, white t-shirt. Bra and panties.” Why did this feel intimate, describing this ordinary clothing to him, when I described myself in sexy—and completely imaginary—lingerie at least five times a shift? Oh yeah… because this was real.
“You work from home, right? Are you in your bedroom?”
“Yes.”
“Go to your closet or dresser and find something that makes you feel sexy.”
“Any requests?” The well-used phrase came automatically to my lips as I stood up.
“I just told you what to put on. Something that makes you feel sexy.”
Oh, right. But… wasn’t the submissive’s job to please the dominant? I supposed some men might be pleased by a woman feeling good and confident about the way she looked. Perhaps Ford was one of them.
“And Summer… that wasn’t a request. It was an order.”
His words sent shivers across my skin as I moved to my dresser. I did have one thing I felt sexy in. One thing I hid deep in the back of the bottom drawer so that Cara, who frequently rummaged through the clothes in my closet, wouldn’t find it.
I’d bought it when I’d first gotten the job with Sultry Sirens. It was a deep maroon-colored teddy, with thin straps and a slightly flounced skirt that barely came to the top of my thighs. Pulling it out, I carefully unfolded it and then retrieved the matching panties and silky robe. I’d splurged on it thinking that it would help get me in the right kind of mood to deal with my clients, but after the first few times of feeling like an idiot, wearing lingerie that only I could see, I’d hidden it away.
“Have you got something?” Ford asked in my ear.
“Yes—” I said. I’d almost said “Yes, sir” as some of my phone customers demanded, but I stopped myself just in time. I didn’t want my calls with Ford to remind me of how I had to behave with other clients.
“Put it on. Do you have to set the phone down?”
“I’m wearing a headset.”
“Good. Then I can listen.”
“Listen to me change my clothes?”
“Listen to your breath speed up, knowing you’re doing this for me.”
Oh. As if on cue, my breathing did speed up. How could a man I’d never even laid eyes on have this kind of effect on me? But there was no doubt he did.
Moving quickly, trying not to think too much, I stripped out of my clothes. It was a little difficult to draw the slinky fabric of the teddy over my head without knocking loose the headset, but I managed.
As if attuned to my thoughts, Ford spoke in my ear. “Must be a damn good headset.”
“Why’s that?” I asked, my voice a murmur as I smoothed the fabric down over my stomach and hips.
“Because I swear I can hear your heart beating faster from here. Do you have it on now?”
“Yes,” I said as I pulled the matching panties up my legs and tugged them into place.
“Tell me about it.”
“It’s a soft, satiny teddy.”
“Color?”
“Maroon. Almost purple.”
“I bet that looks good with your hair.”
“It’s got spaghetti straps, and it’s cut low over my breasts—”
“Panties?” he demanded, interrupting.
“Yes, matching. A triangle in front, and a triangle in back, and tiny straps on the side.”
“How does it make you feel?”
“So turned on. The side slits go almost up to my waist. You could slide your fingers down my stomach, tracing the outline...”
“Don’t quote your damn manual,” he said. “I’m asking how you feel. Not how you think I’d feel if I were there.”
My cheeks reddened. Why was it so hard to remember that he wanted me to be myself? Maybe because no one else who called the fantasy hotline did. And maybe because my real self, Autumn, had far less experience with men than Summer purported to.
I perched on the edge of my desk, taking stock for a moment. How did I feel? “I feel pretty,” I said simply.
“Why?”
“I don’t know… I love the maroon color of the teddy. It’s somehow…the color of luxury.” I felt foolish admitting this, but it was true. My ordinary clothes tended to be earth tones or dark colors, as was the waitress uniform at the diner where I worked. Wearing this bold, deep color felt… indulgent.
“Good. How else do you feel?”
“Sexy,” I said. Almost in a whisper.
“Why?” he asked again.
“Because I’m wearing this for you.”
He gave an impatient sigh. “I told you, I don’t want to hear what you think I want. I want to hear how you feel.”
“But that is how I feel. You ordered me to put this on. That’s… it’s… it’s exciting. To do what you said. If you were here—” I began, and then interrupted myself, not wanting to get scolded again. “I mean, if this were real… that’s part of how it works, right? The dominant tells the sub what to do, and she does it to please him… but also because she gets turned on from doing it for him. That’s the way it’s supposed to work, right?”
“Right,” he said, sounding as if he approved of my very amateur assessment. “And the dominant—a good dom, at any rate—can also tell the sub to do things that he knows will excite and turn her on. In a good relationship like that, both parties are getting what they want. What they need. It’s a two-way street.” There was a pause for a moment, and then he continued. “Maybe you should try it sometime.”
It didn’t seem likely, since I hadn’t had a date in over a year and hadn’t had sex in almost three times that long, but I didn’t want to tell him that. “Maybe,” I said, and then I froze. What was that? I’d heard something. A noise coming from the living room. Where no one was supposed to be.
“Wait,” I whispered, cutting off whatever Ford was saying.
He switched instantly to concern. “What’s wrong?”
“There was a noise. From the other room. Hold on a moment,” I said, still whispering. Had Cara come home early? I’d told her a million times to wait for me to pick her up at the library at nine. She knew she wasn’t supposed to walk home alone. Maybe she was sick? I was worried about her, but at the same time, I was worried about myself, too. I’d die if she found about the Sultry Sirens job.
“A roommate?” Ford asked, his voice quieter, too.
“No,” I said, shaking my head automatically. “I live with my sister.”
Ford was silent as I crept toward the door of my bedroom. Should I call out and act as if everything was natural? But look what I was wearing. Of all the days to put on something sexy and slinky.
If she’d heard me… I didn’t know what I’d do. I reached the door and gently twisted the doorknob, confirming that it was locked. I always locked it, but I wanted to make sure. I put my ear against the door and listened. And heard a voice. A voice definitely not my sister’s. A man’s voice. Coming closer.
Backing away in horror, I tried to say something, but my throat seemed to have closed. All I could do was gasp for air as quietly as possible.
“Summer?” Ford’s voice was quiet but firm in my ear. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
Somehow, his voice steadied me enough to whisper into the phone. “Someone’s breaking into my apartment.”
5
Ford
Reflexively, I pulled the phone away from my ear for a moment, staring at it. I knew that voice better than any other in the world, and I’d heard fear in it. Real fear. Pressing mute, I hit a button on my desk and barked, “Jason!”
“—more than one of them. Oh god,” she was whispering. “They’re coming closer.”
“You have to hide.” She’d told me before that she took Sultry Sirens calls from her bedroom. “Maybe the closet?” The speaker next to me crackled, and I muted my cellphone.
“Sir?” Jason’s voice came through the speaker with crisp, former military enunciation.
“Call the police. Send them over to her place. Someone’s breaking in.” I knew there’d be no doubt who “her” was. What other woman had I been focused on this much in recent memory?
“Yes, sir,” he said, and he was gone. He had her address, of course. He was the one who’d done the background check on her, but I’d only allowed him to tell me the basics: her name, age, and that she lived alone with her kid sister. He’d also provided one picture he’d gotten from one of her friend’s social media accounts. I’d refused to let him share any more than that with me. I’d already invaded Autumn’s privacy enough as it was.
A quiet voice caressed my ear. “Okay, I’m in the closet with the door closed.”
Unmuting the phone, I turned my attention back to her, feeling helpless. The police were on their way, but I wanted to be there right now, standing between her and those men.
“Oh no,” she said, a little louder than before.
My heart leaped into my throat, visions of armed men standing above her, grabbing her, pulling her out of the closet— “What?” I asked in a quiet voice that belied the wildness of my thoughts. Maybe if I sounded calm and quiet, she would, too.
When she spoke, she sounded horrified. “I just realized—I can’t call the police from in here. I’ve only got the headset, but it doesn’t have a dial pad on it, and my phone’s not—”
“It’s okay,” I said as soothingly as possible. “I’ll call them for you. What’s your address?” This was crucial. If she didn’t give it to me—if I revealed that I already knew it, then she’d very likely have yet another man to be frightened of. Now was not the time to explain that I hadn’t been stalking her. Well, not much, anyway.
“I—”
I heard the hesitation, the uncertainty in her voice. What a time for her to have to make a decision like this. But I saw no other way. “Summer, just think about this for a second. You know me. You can trust me. I know it’s scary, but you have to know that you can trust me.”
Nothing but silence from her end.
“You need to stay safe for your sister. For yourself. I can help. I want to help. But first you have to trust me.”
There was a long pause, and then she gave me her address.
“I’m calling the police now,” I said, relief flowing through me as I strode to the front door. Jason had the SUV pulled around front, and I dove into the passenger seat and resumed talking into the phone as we pulled onto the street.
“It’s going to be okay. The police are on their way. Just keep quiet. Listen to my voice, and it’ll be okay.” My voice was calm, but I wasn’t. I gestured angrily at the road through the windshield, signaling for Jason to go faster. He didn’t even glance at me. He was going as fast as he could, as fast as traffic permitted, and I knew it.
I hoped it was fast enough. I’d give my entire fucking fortune to be there right now.
“What if they come into the bedroom? What if they break down the door?” Her voice was quiet, but I could hear the barely controlled panic in it.
“The police will be there soon,” I said, even as my blood boiled. The thought of those assholes wrenching the closet door open, seeing her in her lingerie�
��why the hell had I told her to change? Why tonight of all times had I decided to act on some of the urges I’d tampered down for so long? Really fucking good timing, Ford.
“Is there a jacket or something you can cover yourself with?”
“There’s a blanket,” she said, and there was a pause as I imagined her covering her creamy skin with it. But now was not the time to be picturing how she looked in that nightie.
“Good. That’s a good girl. Just hold on—the police will be there soon.” I kept repeating it, hoping to god it was true. I knew Jason had called 911 immediately, but how fast would they respond? We’d be there in less than ten minutes, but I was hoping the police got there far sooner. Much as I’d like to tear those bastards limb from limb myself, it was more important that someone got to her as soon as possible.
“Oh god.” Her voice was barely anything more than soft air, and I pressed my phone even harder against my ear. “I think they’re trying the bedroom door.”
Shit. “Okay, I think it’s time to take the headset off,” I said, though I hated the idea of losing contact with her. “They might freak at the thought that you’re in communication with the police or someone. Stash it somewhere and hide under the blanket as best as you can, okay? No movement, no sound. And remember. The police will be there. Any moment now. It’s gonna be okay.”
“All right,” she said in the quietest voice yet, and I heard a rustling noise as she set the headset down. She didn’t hang up, though, and I could hear her settling herself in. I pictured her curled up in a ball, pulling the blanket over her head. It might work in a closet like the one I’d had in college when I’d lived in a frat house. The closets in that house had so much crap in them that anyone breaking in could have missed a sorority’s worth of hidden women. But I doubted she was the kind of slob we used to be. Which was unfortunate in this instance.
I looked around—we were still too damn far away. At least six minutes away, and that was without hitting any traffic or red lights. Jason glanced over from the wheel. As always, he was a professional. Literally. He’d taken special driving training courses. He was part driver, bodyguard, assistant, personal trainer and more, but he was always professional. But now his normally stoic eyes met mine, and I saw a trace of compassion there.
Charming: A Cinderella Billionaire Story Page 3
