I am about to ask him, and the words stutter out of me but go unheeded. He’s already redressing, and I sigh as the gorgeous ink is hidden from my sight. “I have some errands for you to do, Vivian.”
He wants me to go outside like this?
“I made a list for you and obtained a prepaid debit card for any of the expenses. When you’re finished, you can park in the garage. I will be in my at-home office working today unless any emergencies come up downtown. You don’t want that to happen, do you? Do you want to go see all your coworkers when you’ve let me dress you like that?” He hands me the papers, and all I can do is thank my lucky stars that he doesn’t have that on my list. Groceries, picking up his dry-cleaning, some paperwork back here following a coffee run . . . It’s going to be horrible, being dressed like this and walking around, but at least I can try to avoid people I might know. It’s embarrassing, but it can’t be worse than how I felt as he took the coffee-soaked papers from me. Right?
He’s watching me, trying to read my expression, but I won’t let him scare me off. I can do this. Sticking out my jaw, I square my shoulders and take a deep breath. “Do you still take your coffee black, Mr. Lamant? Light or dark roast?”
4
I can feel the customers’ glares on my back as I place my to-go order. Thankfully, the cashier doesn’t seem to notice my clothing or she is used to much worse. I make sure to tip her extra for not saying anything; she deserves it for making me feel like it’s just another day.
My calves burn from standing in the heels, and I’m trying not to fidget while waiting for the coffee to be brewed. Every movement of my legs makes my ass stretch the skirt more. I know the guys behind me are staring, but I can’t really complain. This was part of Kodiche’s plan, I know it.
“Have some decency. This is a family establishment!” A woman a few years older than I am gives me the “for shame” look while chastising me.
I hear the chuckles from the two college boys before I can hear their retort. “I’d like to make a family with her.” They egg each other on, earning their own share of haranguing from the busybody.
“Vivian.” The sound of my name makes me jump, heart racing as I try to avoid a full-blown panic attack. It’s just the barista, however, and I take a deep breath before smiling my thanks. I don’t know what I would have done if it was someone I did know. Driving to the other side of our city was worth avoiding running into people while I’m dressed like this.
Retreating to my car, I swing by my home to get the few toiletries I know I’ll need plus some pajamas and clothes. Maybe Kodiche will let me dress myself when I’m doing office work at his home . . . Or not, given this morning.
Am I really up for this, for anything he tells me to do? If I were a more experienced woman, I’d probably say yes and just go with it. The way he held me after I started to fall—just thinking about it makes me shiver all over. Heat spreads through me with the trembles, and it’s not from mortification of being in an outfit better suited for a sex tape than playing errand girl. What if he wants me to make a sex tape with him?
He’s obviously practiced, given how he undressed me and ordered me around. Kodiche knew exactly what he was doing to me. The feel of the lace as he tugged the panties up so high it parted my slit to either side . . . Fuck! I’m so wet now from the memory that the underwear are soaked and sticking to me. And when his cock pushed against my back, I so wanted him to just take me then and there. My coworkers have accused me of sleeping with him to get this job, even thought it was his father who hired me, but if they only knew what I’m doing now.
I’ve only slept with one man, and he broke my heart not long after. He just wanted to fuck me and then made sure to shatter me before going. A few months into our relationship, he made sure everyone knew that I was too much effort to be worth it. My infrequent migraines from stress were too much for him, as was our “vanilla sex life” as he’d put it. My boyfriend got down on one knee at a party, and when everyone turned their attention—thinking he was going to ask me to marry him—he announced I had just been a pity fuck. “Who could really love someone so broken and sick all the goddamned time?” he’d said when all eyes were on us.
It's been three years since I’d trusted anyone with that level of intimacy, three years of not letting anyone close enough to touch me, and there I was with my boss this morning: panting and ready for him like I was in heat. It took a few months for me to get accustomed to Kodiche and his Oh-God-Please-Fuck-Me-Bad-Boy aura. I went on runs during my lunch hours to try and sweat out my arousal. All it did was earn me knowing smiles from the other women at work. In my time as his secretary, I had never seen a family photo or heard about a girlfriend. His father came for the holiday party once after retiring, but he left following the toast without making any small talk with our staff. I’ve forwarded his calls a few times, but that’s it.
Kodiche seems so alone.
My thoughts accompany me all the way back to Kodiche’s mansion, and a garage door is open as he’d promised me. Thinking of how lonely he must be makes me feel a little less annoyed with him for choosing this dress for me. It can’t be easy to find true companionship when he’s busy all the time. Maybe this is the only way he knows how to get someone? I don’t want to think of how many have been like this before me. I really don’t want to think of what else he might ask of me. “Just one moment at a time,” I whisper into the nearly empty garage.
It’s a struggle to get all his groceries into the door leading to the pantry from the garage. I manage to get them all in without dropping the eggs or smashing the bread, truly a miracle given the lack of help I receive. Kodiche doesn’t seem to even notice I’m back . . . If he’s even home. For all I know he could have left for the office, leaving me here alone.
The pantry has each shelf labeled with what goes where, but it’s so empty that the few groceries he sent me for don’t take up much space. Steak and shrimp go into the fridge, and even it is bare. A bottle of ketchup and another of soy sauce are in the door, sentinels guarding the single box of leftover takeout in the entire fridge. It’s bizarre—does he never eat at home? Is that why he has me here, to cook for him? I mean, he could just be absolutely clueless in the kitchen. With his work hours, it’s not like he would be home often to cook for himself.
With that task done, I check my coffee to make sure it’s still hot before going to find if Kodiche is home. Carrying the two cups, I wander throughout the main level, checking each room as I go. The stiletto spikes of my heels make a strange echo against the marble, accompanying me on my search. A light is on in the den. Even that’s empty, but a door is open on the far side. Peeking my head around the corner, I call his name softly. “Mr. Lamant?” When there isn’t an answer, I go in further. There was a larger library further down the wing, but this must be his private book room. The space is mostly barren: the empty room only has built-in bookcases, a coffee table marred with circles from condensation rings, and a chair. A book lies open on the chair, and I can’t resist the temptation to see what he was reading. It might be easier to understand Kodiche if I have any ideas of what he’s like outside the boardroom.
The spine is cracked from frequent reading, and while I don’t recognize the title, the cover art makes it easy to tell the subject. A man is dressed in a suit and has a woman on her knees in front of him, not covered much less than I am now. It’s the look of rapture on her face that steals my attention.
Setting our coffees carefully on the table beside the chair, I sit down and skim the book. He’d left it open to just the first chapter, an introduction from someone named Master Donovan to the reader about the story they’re sharing. Looking over my shoulder, I check to make sure no one is watching me as I skim the first few pages. A dominant and submissive are taking part in lots of naughty scenes, and it’s far more erotic than I thought, and also tender—at least after. The book has been opened a lot to a later chapter, and it doesn’t take me long to see what he was reading.
“Count them for me.”