The knock at her open office door made Angela Costello nearly jump out of her seat.
"Little jumpy?" Marcus asked with his playful smile. Like Angela, Marcus was a second year associate at Donnelly, O'Connell law firm. Unlike Angela, he'd been handed everything thanks to his father, Richard O'Connell. Angela liked that Richard made all his associates work, but it was no a brainer that Marcus didn't work nearly as hard as the others.
"God, I guess so. Must have been immersed in my work," Angela said. Truth was she hadn't been able to concentrate the closer it came to 5:00 PM. Her mind swirled with thoughts about what this evening, not to mention this entire weekend, would bring. She'd been with Eric Cain for two months, wonderful butterflies in her stomach can't wait to see him months, but what Eric asked of her this weekend had the butterflies dancing with bees, her stomach fluttering, her lady parts buzzing with anticipation. What had she agreed to? What would it be like tonight?
"Jumpy and spacy," Marcus commented coming into her office with is cock-sure grin. "We're all going for drinks. Why don't you join us?"
"Oh, sounds fun, but I...I have plans," she returned vaguely, nervously flipping her long dark hair behind her.
"Aw. You never come out anymore," Marcus's voice lowered as he came closer to Angela. His big brown puppy dog eyes alighted. She knew he was interested in her. He was so obvious about it he might as well be a neon sign. He was cute, sweet, but entirely not her type, especially when she rose from her chair and towered over him in her 4 inch heels.
"I'm seeing someone. You know how it is," she said standing and putting some distance between herself and Marcus. She tried to sound upbeat, but it was also the third time she'd told him. If that didn't say "back off" what did?
"Ah. The mystery man. Where did you say you met him?" he asked suspiciously.
"I've never said, Marcus. Unlike everyone else in this office I don't go around sharing every detail of my private life." Seriously, no one had boundaries these days. She knew who was sleeping with who, in what positions and how they rated in bed. Eric may have asked her not to talk about their relationship, but he didn't need to. She'd never share anyway.
"Not even a name?"
"Not even a name, Marcus. Not now anyway. It's still too new. Now, I have to get packed up and get out of here. Have fun tonight." Angela reached for her bag without giving Marcus another glance. He quickly got the hint, but seemed to sulk out the door. She and Marcus would never happen for two reasons. First, she never dated a man that was shorter than her when she wore her 4 inch heels. Being that she was 5'8", it cut the dating pool considerably. Second, Marcus lacked the intensity, ambition, and power that she was attracted to. In fact, he was her age, 25, and she preferred men in their 30's. Men who knew themselves and had grown out of the 20-something party phase she'd never been interested in. Guys like Marcus, born with a silver-spoon, had never encountered a true test of manhood.
Angela exited the revolving door of the skyrise into the hustle and bustle of San Francisco on a decently warm spring evening. As expected she saw the black sedan at the curb. She smoothed her off white skirt and took a deep breath before walking, much more assuredly than she felt, toward the sedan. As she approached, the driver emerged going around to the rear door and opening it for her.
"Good evening, Ms. Costello. Mr. Cain asked that I drive you to his place," the chauffeur said. He was dressed in a black suit and had a hard chiseled face that spoke volumes of experience that would have intrigued Angela hadn't she been so distracted with anticipation.
"Thank you, and you are?" Angela paused before getting into the car, looking directly at the man with the chiseled jaw and piercing blue eyes.
"Richard."
"Thank you, Richard." With that she eased into the leather back seat of the black sedan and allowed Richard to gently shut her door. After putting on her seat belt, Angela glanced out the window and saw Marcus watch the car leave the curb. His jaw slack from disbelief. She smiled to herself and shook her head. Marcus never stood a chance.
It wasn't long before Angela exited the sedan and made her way into Eric's apartment building where the doorman let her into the elevator and punched the access code to Eric's top floor penthouse. Elevators had always made her stomach queasy and this evening it only added to the swirly flip-flop already taking place. She'd been to Eric's apartment 10 or so times now, but always with him. Now she was entering alone. It felt tense, forbidden, almost like when you watch the femme fatale in a scary movie enter a house by herself and you know whatever happens to her won't' be good.
This was Eric, though. Angela trusted him. Certainly she'd been with controlling men who liked to be on top, but what Eric proposed was beyond anything she'd done before. To surrender and submit to him for the entire weekend. He promised, if she trusted him and surrendered herself, he would reward her beyond anything she could imagine. Not monetarily of course, she wasn't motivate by that. Eric, his virility, his power, his dominance, that was what she craved.
Eric knew that Angela had to take care of herself since the day she was born. She had worked for everything - food, clothing, shelter, her education. No one had ever taken care of Angela and at 25 she was tired. More than anything she wondered what it would be like to trust that someone would take care of everything. Could Eric really take away the burden she carried, even if only for a weekend? Was it possible for her to give up all control, when her entire life so far had required her to be in control in order to survive?
When the elevator stopped and the doors opened, Angela slowly entered the vestibule leading to Eric's penthouse. She hesitated at the door then slowly turned the knob. It was unlocked as he said it would it be and she pushed open the door, the floor to ceiling windows looked out upon the Golden Gate bridge and the descending sun shone a brilliant copper orange. The view never ceased to take her breath away and it almost made her miss the front table with a bouquet of white flowers and note with her name on it.
Angela, I am so pleased you agreed to spend this weekend with me. I promise you, this will change you forever and make us closer. In the master bath you will find the bath drawn for you already and glass of white wine. Please enjoy a nice soak. When you are done, put on the robe I provided and call 601. Let them know you are ready for your waxing.
Waxing?! She usually shaved, but he had insisted on waxing. Angela hadn't been sure how this going to come about, but he had told her Sunday to let it grow over the week. Good thing there was wine.
Just as Eric had promised, a bubbly warm bath had been drawn and a cold glass of wine was sitting on the side of the tub. Angela looked around wondering who had put it there. Was Eric here? Was he watching her? Trust. He had said to trust her. As difficult as it was, she took a deep breath and let it out. You can do this Angie.
She loved Eric's tub. It was large and deep with a sloping back so she could rest comfortably. The bathroom itself was as big as her living room. It had a separate shower with multiple heads that she had enjoyed a few times before. She smiled remembering two weeks ago when Eric fucked her from behind in the shower, her hair wrapped tightly around his hand and his fingers pushing into her hips as he slammed into her. Thinking about it was like a zap of electricity to her groin and the butterflies in her stomach started dancing once again.
The waxing was performed by a southeast asian woman who called herself Pam. Angela lied on a soft rather luxurious massage table which didn't make the embarrassment and pain any less real. She made an attempt at nonchalant conversation, but Pam was focused (thank God, considering the delicate area she was focused on). Though Pam gave quiet reassuring murmurs, it did nothing to alleviate the startling sting when she ripped off another strip of wax. When the waxing was complete, Pam handed Angela an envelope, smiled sweetly, and exited the penthouse before Angela could see her to the door. Shrugging on the bathrobe, Angela opened the envelope.
"Angela, take off the robe. Go into the foyer, kneel down sitting on your feet, hands on your thighs, head down. Wait there until I enter. Eric."
The butterflies and bees seemed to be accompanied by hornet now as Angela's entire body felt on fire from within. Was she blushing red? She was flushed and hot all over with anticipation. She had just endured a waxing, certainly she was willing to go see this through. Despite her will to be her own independent woman, as instructed, Angela took off the bathrobe and lied it on the foyer table. She then knelt by the floor, hands on her thighs, head down waiting.
Exactly how long was she suppose to wait? This wasn't the most comfortable position and her knobby knees were probably turned red. Angela took another big, breath letting it out.
How long had it been? 10 minutes? It seemed like longer. Was this a test to see how she would submit to him? Angela was becoming irritated and uncomfortable and was about to get up to get the blood circulating to her legs when she heard the elevator open. She heard steps, then the turning of the door handle. Without thinking, she looked up to see Eric entering the apartment and smiled at him. He did not return her smile, instead his look was stern.
"Head down, Angela," he ordered. Angela quickly looked down, flushing red from his reprimand. She didn't want to let him down, but she wasn't use to him reprimanding her. Eric stood next to her looking down at her for seemed an eternity but hardly more than 30 seconds. Then he crouched next to her and lifted her chin up with his index finger.
"Look at me Angela," he said huskily. Angela looked up, her large green eyes searching his face. He gave her a half-smiled, his blue eyes intent upon her.
"Are you ready for this Angela?"
"Yes."
"For the next 48 hours it is 'yes Eric' or 'yes sir'. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Eric," could she say sir? This was role play, she told herself. It's what he desires.
"If you look at me without my permission or fail to address me as sir or Eric, I will punish you."
Angela's eyes cast down as she thought about the gravity of his words. Could she do this?
"Look at me Angela," he said more sternly. Angela's eyes shot up, meeting his once again. "Do you trust me?"
"Yes, Eric."
"YOu are giving me the green light to dominate you, to punish you as I see fit. To control you, to fuck whenever I want, however I want. If you are ever unsure or if you think it's getting to be too much for you, what do you say?"
"Yellow."
"If you say yellow we will stop and talk. We will try to work out what you are unsure about. If it's getting to be too much, we can slow down, but you must tell me before it goes too far. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Eric."
"When you need to stop immediately, say red. If you say red, it's over."
"What's over?"
