He opened the door, his mouth flickering a little when he saw what she was wearing despite his best efforts at keeping a stony face.
'Good,' he said, putting a hand on her shoulder and steering her to the foot of the bed, where he sat down, ready to instruct her. 'Rachael, I've decided to assume that you were not teasing me at dinner, but that my interpretation of your hints was accurate. If at any time it turns out that I have misjudged the situation, just let me know and I'll release you from this . . . overtime. Clear?'
She nodded, enthralled.
'Right, take these.' He produced a notebook and pen from his breast pocket and handed them solemnly to her. When her hand came up to take them, he sniffed the air. 'What's that?' He took her fingers and pressed them to his nose, then smiled broadly, shaking his head.
'Oh, Rachael,' he admonished, his sorrowful tone patently false. 'What have you been up to in there on your own?'
Rachael's pained expression was her only reply.
'I see you can't be left alone without falling into wicked ways. It's just as well I've called you in here. It seems you need to be kept busy.'
Rachael had never stopped to consider the erotic potential of embarrassment, but now, caught out and laid bare, she felt utterly, wantonly vulnerable. Stripped of her everyday layers and veneers, she was goosepimply and yet not at all cold. Rather the opposite, if truth be told. She was thankful only that her robe still preserved a tiny bit of her modesty, because she would not have been at all surprised if the area between her legs was glowing neon-red, screaming 'Look at me! Touch me!'
But Everett was looking elsewhere, at Rachael's opposite wrist, which was braceleted with redness. 'What caused that?' he asked.
'My . . . er . . . my dressing gown. The towelling . . . chafes a bit.'
He narrowed his eyes, pondering this, then shook his head, apparently saving the snippet of information for later.
'Never mind. Take the pad and pen and get down on your knees, please.'
Rachael, rather relieved to have an instruction to follow which put her out of the line of Everett's scrutiny, dropped down immediately, her knees sinking into the soft deep pile of the carpet. She wondered how easy it would be to write in this position, but Everett had further instructions.
'Put the pad and pen on the carpet in front of you and lean forward on to your elbows. That's it.'
Rachael complied almost unconsciously, though once she was in position, she was strongly tempted to peer over her shoulder, aware that her robe must have ridden up near the top of her thighs now.
'Good. Now I want you to maintain that position while you copy down this contract. Are you ready?'
Rachael clicked the pen nervously, made sure her legs were clamped tightly together, and nodded.
'I didn't hear you, Rachael.'
'Yes, Sir.'
'Good. Take, as they say, a letter. ''Dear Rachael.'' '
She coughed in surprise and craned her neck up at him, but he nodded swiftly down, returning her attention to the notepad.
'Yes, ''Dear Rachael. In view of recent revelations regarding your personal interest in my bedroom tastes'' – are you getting this?'
Rachael was scribbling furiously. '''Recent . . . revelations,''' she muttered.
'Ready? ''I have decided to offer you the position of my submissive for the period of two calendar months.'' A position you are demonstrating very adequately just now.' He stood and moved behind his dedicated assistant, prodding her bare soles with the toe of his shoe.
'''I offer the following terms and conditions. You may terminate the contract at any time without notice. Your additional duties will not prejudice your principal employment nor any future references. Although I will want to tie you up and spank you, I will not seriously hurt or harm you in any way. Any and all sexual scenarios proceeding from acceptance of this contract may be halted by the utterance of the word . . .'' Well, what do you think?'
'A word?' asked Rachael blankly.
'A safeword. You say it when you don't want to play any more and I stop. Any ideas?'
Ideas were a long way back in Rachael's racing mind at this point, so intoxicated was she by the swirl of words she was painstakingly copying, and the enormous import behind the looping script.
'Basingstoke,' she hazarded.
He laughed. 'Why not? OK, ''. . . the utterance of the word 'Basingstoke'. On expiry of the two-month period, I undertake to never contact Miss Rachael Bates again unless she instigates such an activity.'' What do you say?'