Mesmerized...
That's the only way to describe the awe-struck feeling you get whenever he draws you near. The gentleness you want to push away from comes swirling back to you in a twirl of confusing emotions. You promised not to hurt him...at least...
"I'm not for sale," you say, slowly feeling your insides churn under the fire of his smolder.
"Didn't say that you were...," he smirks at you, pouring liquor into two crystal glasses, setting the tray on the table. "Names Freddie by the way."
You should leave. This is strange, is it not? Just because a man is good-looking, doesn't mean he isn't a creep.
"If I'm working for you, I'd prefer to be professional, sir."
"That's fine. I prefer to be addressed that way," He's got a real cocky attitude behind that innocent, precious face.
You recognize this as a sort of pleasurable back and forth. See! It is creepy. Maybe the pay raise isn't worth it.
Before you can make up your mind, your internal debate cranks up a notch as he begins to unbutton his shirt. You feel the heat rise to your cheeks, so you bat your lashes, looking away.
"It's alright, darling...," he chuckles. You look up to see him in a plain white vest, thick tuffs of curly dark hair sprouting from the low neckline.
"I don't bite," he smiles, sitting on the couch, putting his legs up on the edge of the table, crossing his ankles. "...not too hard, anyway," he winks.
He watches as you fidget nervously still standing in front of the door next to your cleaning cart. You brush your maids dress down, slip the lose stands of your overgrown bangs behind your ear— anything to keep from falling into his eyes.
It's a trap and you know it. You feel like a helpless lamb, innocently and accidentally wondering into a jungle. Freddie being the wild cat— his purr intrigues you; his prowl demands attention.
"Have a seat. Let's discuss my proposal, shall we? I am a busy man."
"Then, I shouldn't keep you?" You nod, your mind whirling, natural instincts warning your gut.
"I'm here for you. You're not keeping me from anything right this second."
You try to hide the shock from your face, but your expression betrays you. So, it's true! He did follow you here. But, why?
"What do you mean, here for me? You must think me to be someone else, sir. We've only met yesterday and by accident-"
"Nothing is ever accidental, dear. You were meant to be there. Just like you're meant to be here today, now, talking with me."
He says it all as a matter of fact. How can he say such sleezy things, but make me feel desired and excited all at the same time?
"That's a crock of shit," you chuckle.
Obviously, he's joking. He has to be joking. Who says that? Right?
"Mmmm, I don't like your tone," he lifts himself, gracefully from the couch. Not so much as a single floorboard squeaks beneath his light feathered feet as he sashays towards you, a twinkling mischief in his eyes.
"Just say you'll have dinner with me," his fingertips brush against your arm. The warmth radiates through your limbs, temporarily weakening your logic.
You knew you shouldn't have stared so deeply into his eyes. The mysterious swirls hypnotizing you, causing you to speak before thinking.
"Okay," you breathe, moving back and away from the tender dance of his fingers upon your tingling skin. The thought of how the pads of his fingertips could waltz beneath your surface leads you to stay entrapped underneath his gaze.
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You're easily swayed, my darling.
I like that.
And here, I thought you too shy to admit you want me too. To spend time with me, alone, just the two of us... let me not get too ahead of myself.
I've been here before with other girls just like you. I do have a type, it's true. Some more stubborn, some who fell at my feet on command— flogged or not.
"Just dinner," you add as you seem to regain your color. I can see the wheels of your mind begin to whizz and spin just as rapidly as my hunger. "After my shift, I'll meet you in the lobby?"
You ask instead of state. I like your need for permission already. You'll do just fine in time.
Though at first you moved away from my touch, when I reach out now, you barely flinch. I carefully caress the pink tint of your cheek, submerging the urge to control you with all my might. I pull back, showcasing my sweetest smile. "Parting is such sweet sorrow— until then, my dear."
You want to giggle. I see the lift of your smirk desperately trying to hide away that giddy feeling.
I lick my lips. Your eyes follow my tongue. And now I know I've made the right choice in picking you.
You bite your bottom lip, your teeth making an indent into your flesh. I watch your mouth move to form words, but I'll admit it, dear, I'm not paying attention.
"See you then, sir," you walk away, cart in tow, but I've got you on my string. You'll make a fabulous show. Pretty soon you'll find me to be an excellent ventriloquist. Those pretty lips will pour my words back to me, just the way I like.
"Not if I see you first," your body stiffens as you momentarily pause. I watch you look over your shoulder as you wheel your way into the waiting lift.
You, my sweet girl, you will learn better soon. You'll beg to stay beside me, underneath me, or suspended above my bed.
