Help Wanted [*Complete*]

4

"2.14.8.01 The Second Floor: Under no circumstances should you ascend the stairs unless directly summoned. If called to the office, you are not to linger in the hall but to go straight to the room at the end of the corridor."

Hours later after the cook and maid left, I lounged watching television in the living room again, clad in my average around the house wear, yoga pants and a tank top. The day was uneventful, I enjoyed my time off because I had a feeling those two days were going to be complete and utter hell.

"Natalia, please come upstairs," Mr. Emery's voice buzzed over the intercom making me jump.

Scrambling up from the couch I walked over to the foot of the stairs. I remembered there was an entire section just dedicated to not being on the second floor, so being called up there just seemed odd. Regardless I climbed the steps slowly, doing exactly what the manual said not to do. I lingered as I took in the walls covered with various modern art paintings all with similar color schemes of red, white and black.

Halfway down the hall a door was cracked open revealing a playroom beyond—and I don't mean the kind with video games. My mouth was dry, I found it suddenly hard to breathe.

The term Bondage Playland came to mind, like it was some kinky private adult theme park. Despite how cold Mr. Emery was, it made me want to strip naked and kneel by the door. There was no doubt he left it open for a reason. He was testing me. I didn't close the door. Instead, I kept walking to the end of the hall.

The last door was jarred revealing an office similar to his at WAKE headquarters, only done in a third the size. He sat behind the desk shirtless, looking just as good as I imagined him, only I didn't expect the tattoos. Intricate ink covered both his arms to the wrists, various phrases in Latin and amazing artwork of demon's slaying angels on one side and angels slaughtering demons on the other. Other than the sleeves, down his side, was written VINI VEDI VICI; I came I saw I conquered.

"Yes?" I eventually remembered to speak.

"I know you haven't started yet, but could you make an appointment for me tomorrow with Pennington Publishing's CEO, Gregory Chambers."

"O-okay," I stumbled over the words attempting to keep my mind from the gutter. I fished my phone out of my back pocket making a note in my little task app.

"The number should be in your WAKE phone. That's all. Oh, and thank you." He returned his attention to the computer screen leaving me to exit a little flustered and confused. He could have told me that over the intercom. Shaking my head all the while I left, thankful he hadn't said anything about the night before.

As I knelt in front of the four black plastic trash bags which contained my packed clothes, Tara's words from the other day popped into my head. With my unhealthy preoccupation on Mr. Emery, I forgot all about checking for whatever Chloe left behind.

Short as I was, I had to pull my desk chair over to see what was on the shelf. At first I didn't see anything, and I thought Tara was screwing with me, some kind of help hazing. Just when I was about to slowly step back to the unswively ground, I caught the gleam of gilded letters on a book's spine that read "On Submission."

The title shocked me so much I almost tumbled to the floor. After regaining my composure, I closed the door swiftly locking it. The last thing I wanted was an interruption.

The black, hardback, cloth-bound book felt heavier than its one hundred and fifty pages. Maybe the implications of its existence made it appear as though it should have been more substantial than it was. Abandoning my unpacking, I devoured the manuscript cover to cover. If it was supposed to be magical bitch begone—it backfired.

The words that covered the pages were whispered to me in Mr. Emery's cold voice as I savored them. my imagination worked double time.

"If summoned to The Temple, the Submissive must disrobe at the door, unbind their hair and wait, kneeling with eyes closed, head bowed, and hands palms down on her thighs."

In my mind, he was there behind me as I knelt. Instead of speaking, he would caress along my jaw, raising my chin so I'd know to look him in the eye. He'd stroke my bottom lip with his thumb as with his other hand he unzipped his pants and...

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

Fuck!

My WAKE phone vibrated across the nightstand snapping me out of my fantasy. After stuffing the book between the mattress and box spring like a sixteen-year-old hiding their first erotica novel I snatched up that dreaded little electronic rectangle.

- Add meeting w/M Piper to schedule 3 pm tomorrow pls.

Breathless, I wet my lips, waiting a moment to respond.

- Of course, Mr. Emery sir. I replied before closing my eyes and letting out a heavy sigh.