NB - thanks for the kind messages about my other story "The Wife's Secret". I hope you enjoy this one. I have taken inspiration from another writers' story.
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The last of the customers had gone and Tessa was clearing up. She had already turned the closed sign around on the door, but hadn't yet locked it. It was raining outside. The pattering on the windows and cobbled stone square outside her shop created a white noise to accompany the confusion of her mind. Over the last few weeks Tessa had become unsure where her heart belonged. She was in a relationship, but with no real commitment. She had previously escaped London from an abusive relationship some years ago. For some considerable time now she had lived a solitary new life with just her toys and erotic stories for company. Tessa had used this story to... She paused, brush in hand. What word would best describe her usage of her lonely past? "Trick?" Had she "tricked" men into playing her games? She continued her sweeping until she came to the settee area at the back of the café. It was here where she had enjoyed 'that' evening with Jack so many months ago. Not "tricked". The word came clearly to her mind. She had met her match at this settee. Jack had figured her out very quickly. "Conned". That was the word. Tessa had 'conned' men with her tales of leaving behind a torrid life in the big City of London, and her desperate desire to escape the world in which she had become trapped.
Max had been a gentle man. He had made her smile, laugh and love more than anyone she had ever met. He was attentive to her needs and gave her everything she ever wanted. They were happy. Then things changed. Max had asked Tessa to marry him, and of course she said "Yes!" without hesitation. Max had started a new job around the same time, but then had lost it - "Last one in, First one out. I hope you understand." That was the reason he was given, anyway. Money had become an issue for them, and their relationship hit a rocky patch. The abuse was minor to start with. Tessa understood, fully, the pressure max was under. She forgave him, as any good partner would. His first affair was out of an desperate urge to take back control of his life, fuelled by the motivating gremlins of alcohol. Max sobbed for forgiveness, and however much it hurt her, Tessa gave it. In the months that followed, Max became obsessive about Tessa. He tracked her phone on his laptop. He questioned every unscheduled stop, and even read her messages. One night, Max took Tessa's phone, keys and purse. She was allowed to go out, ONLY when he agreed, or was with her. Tessa reflected on the relief she felt when she finally escaped from him. Occasionally, she wondered what he was doing. Mostly, though, she thanked every day since she left, and was grateful to her friends for helping her realise his power and abuse over her.
It was a good, true story. She had learned to play the innocent card well over the years. She had even adapted her story to include her sexual fantasies of spanking. Many a time she had told her male prey that she had always wanted to try it, but had never been spanked before. Well, that might have been true once. The thrill of the chase, and the enthusiasm from her 'victim' when they played up to the part of the willing volunteer, offering their hand to her bare bottom. Hmmmm. She had to admit it. The thought still did it for her.
As she straightened the cushions on each of the settees Tessa continued to think about Jack. He, she was certain, was different to the others. Sadly their relationship ended rather abruptly when he was successful in securing a contracted position at the Guardian. His first post was to Europe. The stories led him to where he needed to go, and he gave no indication as to when he would return. "I hope I don't catch you doing anything 'naughty' while I'm away" he had said before leaving. His words carried the exact amount of well-balanced promise and threat. Tessa loved how he played with spoken language, and how he measured every intention of his words and tone. None of that mattered now, of course. Alfie and Tessa had been seeing each other for a few months, and Jack hadn't been heard of for weeks. Tessa knew this current relationship with Alfie had no future. It was more to do with company and carnal desires than any long-lasting love.
Tessa jumped around at the sound of the door opening and bell ringing, informing her of a customer's entrance. "I'm sorry hun, we're closed now."
"Then why the fuck is the door unlocked?"
Tessa spun around to look at the intruder. The empty silence of the café was punctuated by the man's heavy footsteps over the wooden floor. The man remained in shadow where Tessa couldn't make out his face.
"What kind of respectable woman leaves their fuckin' door open at this time of night? Anyone can just walk in." The voice was menacing.
Tessa stood frozen still, holding her broom in both hands.
The man approached the counter and leaned over to pick up a bunch of keys. He turned back towards the door, looked out to see if anyone in the street had noticed the late night customer, locked and bolted the door. Slowly he lowered the blinds and turned back to Tessa.
"Has no one ever told you about being alone after dark with an unlocked door?" Tessa tried to speak, but her voice got lost in her throat. She just swallowed, head bent down submissively, and looked up towards him. The man stepped closer. He gestured towards a table. Tessa was ordered to remove the decorations and condiments and ensure the table was cleaned. As she moved around, busying herself with this work, the intruder watched her. Tessa was wearing a cotton black dress with a white arrow-designed-pleated-apron, and two lines of white buttons running up parallel to her white collar. The buttons were sewn on with red thread. Her cuffs were white, and the hem of her skirt fell below her knees where it revealed black stockings and black leather flats. Her skirt swished musically as she swayed around. Once cleared, Tessa moved to the counter to return with surface cleaner and cloth. The man had sat himself on a chair to observe her working from a more comfortable position. Standing next to the cleaned table, with her hands folded in front of her, Tessa spoke in a small voice, "I'm done, sir."
"Good. Now turn around and face the table. Place your elbows and palms flat on the surface." There was no kindness in his voice. Just stern and dominant commands. He was relaxed in his seat. There was no apparent time constraint, or urgency. As Tessa bent over her skirt tightened around her bottom. She could feel his eyes burn into her from behind. He was taking his time to absorb the look of Tessa from this position.
Tessa felt a stirring of nots in her stomach. She was apprehensive about this man, but the feeling of being ogled was beginning to do things for her. She heard his chair shift, and the increasingly familiar footsteps approach.
"I have watched you." He was standing directly behind her. "You are sloppy in your work."
Tessa stayed still and quiet. "Look at your uniform. There are coffee and food stains on your apron. You have dirty marks on your cuffs. This is not the look of a Lyon's Café waitress. The 'Nippy' look needs to be smart, well presented, and representing calmness on all levels. This," he paused, searching for the appropriate statement, "betrayal of the uniform is unacceptable."
The large, classic clock hanging on the open brick fireplace ticked on. Tessa became aware of the sounds of her café. The noise from outside. The circulation of the café air vents. The white noise was almost unbearable. Eventual he broke the silence. "Don't you have anything to say?"
Tessa's voice was lost again. "Hmmm, sorry?"
"I'm not expecting you to ask a fuckin' question. What is your reason for bringing this uniform, this image of perfection and class, into disrepute?"
"I don't have one. I work hard, and I serve my customers. They are all happy."
"Clearly not all." The intruder took a few steps to Tessa's side. "Lift your dress over your bottom."
Tessa paused, unsure what to do. She was pretty sure what intentions this man had, and she was pretty sure she felt a slight thrill deep in her tummy. But she was confused, and a little frightened.
"Did I not make my instructions clear, Tessa?"
"How do you know my name?" Tessa flipped her head towards him, but unable to see him clearly in the light.
"Your name tag." He let silence mock her for her stupidity. Of course he would notice her name tag. He had noticed the small details of her uniform. "I've been interested in you for some time. Now, do I really have to tell you again?"
