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We stepped off Blackstone’s private jet, in cloudy fog-ridden San Francisco. A limo driver sent a text to Joshua, we quickly found him, and we were off to our destination. I tagged along with him. After all, he was the executive, and I was promised a job editing a newsletter, and writing pieces for Blackstone’s online publications, to promote oil drilling.
Stopping at the door of a luxurious apartment with the Golden Gate Bridge as part of the scenery, our bags were handed to the doorman, and he quickly placed them in the apartment before we reached the eighth floor. The carpet, lush, and high, lined the Italian marble walkway, glowed throughout the building. Incredible. Joshua’s gaze wandered, and he said, “I can get used to this—an apartment, six-figure income to manage Blackstone’s properties, and all because I know you.”
“What do you mean?”
“The only reason Blackstone gave me a large salary, is because he hopes I will tell him something about you.”
“He probably forgot about me. Well, I sure hope he has, because it will make it much easier to do what I need to do,” I said with a weak heart.
Walking through the apartment; there were two bedrooms, which were perfect, modern furniture, no antiques. I fell across the bed, and could not move and fell asleep, because of the time change. I woke the next day, and we decided to go for a walk to see the city. We needed some coffee, and straggled into the nearest pub which was open all hours selling cappuccino, a drink with chocolate, brandy, and steamed milk, served in the mornings, and by night, you could get a good dark beer and a Manhattan.
Plopping down in a booth in the corner of the restaurant, suddenly a pair of green eyes attached to a familiar handsome face turned in our direction. I hit Joshua on the arm. “He’s coming this way,” I whispered.
“Who?” a reflex action took over, and Joshua raised his menu in front of his face.
Before I could leave the booth and tell Joshua that our boss was standing in front of us, I was facing him. “Excuse me, but I think I know you from somewhere.”
Yes, you, love of my life, you rich handsome fuck, who buried your face between my legs, and left me with the taste of your dick in my mouth, and fucked me every which way but loose. You treated me like a whore; yes, you do know me, you sexy bastard. I wanted to say all those things, but I didn’t. “I’m sorry, I’ve never met you.” I smiled, flicking my ponytail, lowering my eyes, sitting, and slumping into my seat. He never looked at Joshua, because Joshua had his head turned to the wall with the menu covering his face.
“I would like to speak to you when you’re alone.”
“I’m very seldom alone?”
“I see that you’re not married.”
“And what makes you come to such a hasty conclusion?”
“You’re not wearing a wedding ring, or an engagement ring,” he countered.
“Well, are you a detective or a serial killer?” He shook his head, tilting it to the side and smiled.
“Neither.” His sparkling green eyes glowed, and then he let out a wonderful, subdued laugh. I hadn’t seen that side of him. He knew how to take a joke.
Let’s see how he handles the joke I’m getting ready to play on him.
“Here’s my card,” he stated, trying to meet my diverted gaze. “I’ll be waiting for your call.” I looked up. He held the card out, staring into my eyes, as if he could put me in a trance.
I had been in his trance from the first moment I met him, and clearly I still was, because I took the card from his hand. He had accomplished what he wanted. Turning, he strode back to his booth, then out through the door with a man who had been waiting at the bar. No doubt a bodyguard.
Through the picture window I saw an attendant standing in front of an exotic silver sports car with the door ajar. My Mr. Black, the fuck of my life, my sexual mentor, slipped into it with ease, and drove off.
“Did you see that? He not only didn’t remember me, but he was also after another conquest with the same person. He can’t remember the women he seduced and screwed.” I sat brimming with anger, hitting the spoon on the table, wishing I had slapped his face instead.
“I couldn’t see anything but that two-point-five-million-dollar Bagatti,” Joshua noted in awe. He paused giving in to a moment of hero worshiping. “Alex, if you don’t do this right, you could cost me my position and my job with Blackstone Industries, and I like this job. You will have to assume your other persona, and please tell me, I don’t need surprises. I have to commit that to memory and all the other bullshit you are planning. I’m a part of this nonsense now.”
“It may be nonsense to you, but I need to do this. He likes fast cars. And how did you know that car cost two point five million? I wonder if he likes fast women,” I said, passing my finger over my cheek, studying the possibilities.
“That car was in the New York Times. Alex, there’s talk among the employees that he’s into Bondage and S&M. What are you hoping to accomplish? He could be dangerous. Men with that kind of money and sex habits are dangerous.”
“What do you know about BDSM, Josh?”
“About as much as you.”
“I need to do this Josh. I want him to hurt like I have.”
“If he’s into bondage, then you will hurt more than him. A powerful rich man is seldom out of control, so watch your ass.” Joshua laughed with relish at his own words.
“From my limited knowledge of BDSM, I read that once he penetrated me, he could not come back for more. But he did come back again and again in one night, and he bonded with me, and tried to erase the bond by staying away.”
Joshua listened with interest, leaning in to capture every word. “You appear to be serious about that BDSM thing. Are you sure you want to cross that line? Remember, when you dig one grave for someone, dig one for yourself,” Joshua said, staring me down.
“Yes, I’m crossing that line,” I stated with a lack of reservation. “You know about Alexander Bishop, now it’s time for you to get you acquainted with Ms. Rebecca Johns. She’s a bleached blonde specializing in BDSM. And on her day off she wears tight seductive clothes, where she enjoys receiving and giving pain. I haven’t decided whether I am the Dom or sub, but that will come later. Her family lives in Washington State, however, she previously resided in upstate New York, is a college graduate, and was hired by the personnel department in one of Blackstone’s companies in New York City. We met on Blackstone’s Leer Jet, and you invited me to share an apartment with you. You are not privy to my extracurricular activities.” Joshua raised an eyebrow. “I’m trying to protect you, my friend.”
Rolling his eyes and shaking his head, he said, “Anything else I should know? And what do you know about bondage?”
“What I don’t know, I can learn.”
“You already have a full-time job, or have you forgotten that.”
“Yes, my full-time job is getting that handsome beautiful sick fuck to fall passionately in love with Rebecca. I want to drive him mad. I want him to obsess behind me until he loses his mind.”
“Be careful what you wish for,” Joshua said, laughing.
The clock beeped at 6 a.m. Monday, I dressed early to get a good start, where I could become acclimated to the city. Checking the city map, to my surprise, the main office of Blackstone Enterprises was within walking distance from the apartment.
Dressed in a black knockoff designer suit, and a white shirt with cuffs, a string of white pearls, a pair of black designer pumps, and an expensive black Prada purse that cost a fortune, I felt like a million dollars. In a briefcase I concealed my black six-inch pumps. I set out for my first day on the job with knots in my stomach. Strolling to the glass silver structure with Blackstone emblazoned over the entrance, I lumbered through the door, turning in circles, stopping to look up at the large chandeliers hanging in the lobby.
Incredible, I thought.
After taking a few steps, the elevator opened and out strutted my Mr. Black, carrying a black briefcase and a phone firmly in his hand. He obviously had a meeting, because he had on his signature black suit with white shirt and his prep school tie. I looked at his feet and he was without his Gucci loafers. Instead, he wore a pair of bespoke black Italian leather shoes.
When I raised my head, he paused, then he turned in my direction, continuing his conversation with his eyes, appraising and scanning my body. His expression signaled, Where have I seen you? And I want to fuck you. The elevator slowed, easing to a stop.
I stood staring him down. My face and eyes said, “Whatever you want, I’m here to give it to you.”
Discovering I could hide the real me under a blonde wig, false eyelashes, makeup, and moderately expensive clothing, set me free. I could be who I wanted. Maybe I wasn’t Alex. Maybe I was someone else.
Seducing him with a devilish smile, showing no teeth, watching him breathing hard, then turning my back to him facing the elevator, and feeling his burning stare, turning around, I flashed a wink and a full smile. By the way he stood in that one spot, I knew he was mine. The elevator came, I stepped in, and his bodyguard touched his arm. I could see that Mr. Black was annoyed at the closing of the elevator door.
His hungry yearning green eyes spelled danger, but I wouldn’t heed the signs, and I plowed straight ahead with my plans. When I reached the twenty-sixth floor, which took only a few seconds, I got off with my ears ringing and my head swirling.
“Hi, and you are?” I gave my papers to the pretty secretary at the front desk. She glanced up at me, lifting her eyebrows, and twisting her pretty face with suspicion and contempt. “Please, come with me, Miss Johns.” She walked me through another set of doors with a guard sitting at the desk. Waving at him, he allowed us to go on to another section. “This is your office Ms. Johns, your secretary will be in to acquaint you with your duties.”
My secretary? Well, no one said that I would have a secretary. The young woman about twenty-two, black hair and blue eyes, turned around looking in my eyes, “If you need to speak to Mr. Blackstone, you can relate the message to me, or your secretary. My name is Ms. Corday.” And she turned coldly in her high heels and headed in the direction of her desk.
“Hmm. That will be the day,” I murmured.