Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 64704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
I felt different. Not necessarily a woman or even more mature or grown up. Experienced? Enlightened? I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. It certainly wasn’t loved. I’d never felt more alone in my life.
But I hadn’t felt used. Alone, but not used by Mr. Langston.
My body hurt. There was no denying that. The bruises were already forming on my wrists from where I’d yanked at the cuffs, and my muscles ached with every step that I took.
Even more terrifying, there was an ache on the inside. Part of me wasn’t sure I’d survive another night of that, and another part of me craved it again.
I splashed some cold water on my face and fingered the diamonds around my neck. They were so pretty. So delicate. The nicest and most expensive thing that I’d ever worn. It also made me feel like a pet, but then, that was the point, wasn’t it?
I did my research, knew the role meant for me to play now. It was one of the hardest things that I’d ever read and certainly one of the most confusing. There were elements of intimacy, and how could there not with the actions being played out, but the seduction and eroticism? Women, couples, enjoyed this kind of play, but I couldn’t wrap my head around it. At least, not until I got a taste. There was fear, but it was only on my end. From my experiences. Otherwise, maybe it wouldn’t have been frightening at all.
I trusted him. Maybe too much, too soon. That trust and my desire for him mixed into something that felt dangerous. It made me afraid that I play any role he wanted me to play if it meant being in the same bed as him again.
Leaning over the counter, I traced my lips with my fingers. Why hadn’t he kissed me? Wasn’t that part of sex? Kissing the person that you were inside of? Was there something wrong with me that he didn’t want to kiss me?
Pushing the thoughts aside, I wrapped my arms around myself and headed back to bed. I had hoped to get some more asleep, but just ended up staring at the wall all night long. Mr. Langston got up and walked past my door several times, his sure steps echoing in the hall, before the sound of his car pulled up and then took him away.
Even after knowing he’d left, it took some time before I could get up to go downstairs and read today’s letter. Part of me was afraid it would tell me to pack my bags and get out. Deal over. I’d been a horrible lay.
Instead, it just had it’s usual, if not lengthier, list of chores. He’d ordered lunch for me that would be delivered from a café down the street. He’d detailed the time he expected for dinner and what to wear.
A knot formed at the thought of seeing him again, but I couldn’t tell if it was from anxiety or anticipation. Perhaps both.
After changing into a pair of shorts and a tank top, and munching on a quick breakfast, I got to work on my chores, surprised to find some cleaning duties in Mr. Langston’s bedroom.
With my cleaning caddy in hand, I walked into his bedroom, feeling jittery as I stepped inside. This was the first time I’d seen his room. The scent of him hit me immediately. His cologne had lingered in my coverlet for days, and I was more than intimate with his musk.
Slowly, I ran my hands over the surfaces of his furniture. I wasn’t brave enough to snoop, but it was obvious that he didn’t treat this space any differently than he treated the rest of his condo. No personal photos or mementos. No personal notes lying around. Even the bed was made. It certainly didn’t look like a bachelor’s bedroom. It was clean and orderly.
Sterile.
Using the feather duster, I wiped down the surfaces before bringing out the wood polish. Soon, all I could smell was cleaning products and that strong artificial lemon scent. It invaded my nostrils and made my nose run. Sniffing, I headed back out to the linen closet to grab a new set of sheets.
My hands trembled as I turned down his bed. It was strange touching the sheets that he slept on. He was here during his most vulnerable moments. While he slept, anyone could touch him. Run their hands along the sinewy muscles of his back. Curl their fingers through his thick hair. Press their lips to the nape of neck and not fear what he might do in return.
Not fear that he would get up and leave.
My heart ached, and I ripped the sheets off as quickly as possible. Piling them in the corner, I grabbed the dark blue set and spread it over the mattress. When everything was straight and smooth, I allowed myself a brief moment of weakness. Lying on his bed, I closed my eyes and pretended for just a moment that he might be there resting next to me, holding me.