Chapter One
I don't know what it was about her. She captivated me. Not at first, of course. When I first laid eyes on her, she unnerved me. The way she talked to me made me uncomfortable. I would never truly get comfortable with her, but then that's the way it should be. For she was my Mistress, and I loved her, quirks and all.
I worked at the Crichton-Smythe luxury hotel in London. Centrally located in the Soho district, right around the corner from Forbidden Planet, which excited my boyfriend of the time to no end. In retrospect, I now see that his preference for going through shelves of graphic novels over pulling my panties down was a sign that he was hardly fiancé material. I used to tell myself that he was "imaginative". But that was before the first genuinely imaginative person I've ever met in my life showed up.
The Crichton-Smythe was also directly across the street from a high-end lingerie shop. Why couldn't I help gazing at it for hours on end every day? Was it because I was possessed by uncontrollable fantasies of what a life in fishnets and black lace would be like? Maybe. But the more prosaic reason was that the shop was directly in my sightline for the duration of my shifts. Oh well, at least I wasn't stuck looking at Forbidden Planet. It wouldn't be until I finally entered the shop that I would discover it dealt with far more than lingerie.
I had been working the front desk at the Crichton-Smythe for nine months. I was one of those cute little 20-something girls that you see at every front desk of every hotel worth staying at. I was attractive, with a slight edge, but no hint of any femme fatale leanings. Husbands found me appealing, but wives weren't unduly threatened by me. My figure was just on the right side of curvy, and worked well in concert with my reddish dark bob with bangs. I was perky, but not obnoxiously so, and organized. In short, I was very good at my job, and I knew it. As Monte, my Manager, had made clear in my employment interview, I fit a very particular type of personality that all luxury hotels seek for their front desk staff.
There was no implied sexism there. It was refreshingly implicit. Monte was very clear with his blunt appraisal of my assets, and how they were ideal for the position. He said if I didn't like it, I was free to seek employment elsewhere. However, the job he was offering paid significantly better than any commensurate positions. He also gave me his solemn promise that no sexual harassment of any kind would be tolerated, from either employees or customers. One word from me, and he'd throw Sir Mick Jagger out on his ear if it came to it. I decided to trust Monte, and he proved to be as good as his word, until Camille came along.
Chapter Two
It was the middle of a busy summer day. Check-ins were constant. I was finishing up a check-in on my terminal at the front desk when a voice caught me by surprise.
"Hello dear, could you check me in, please?"
Where had she come from? No one had ever snuck up on me like that before. I prided myself on always being aware of everything and everyone in the lobby. And that voice: husky, definitely mature enough to be my aunt. American, but cultured. Probably from East Coast money. Wonder if she was a Connecticut type, or elite enough to rate something in the Hamptons?
"Yes, yes, just a moment, please", I said while I finished up. This was the first time I'd ever betrayed even a hint of impatience with a client (we called them clients, not guests, or customers. One screw-up on this point led to a very short meeting with HR).
"Fine, dear. Take your time. I'm sure it'll be worth it."
I finished and looked up. The owner of that voice belonged to a very striking woman. Mature, I'd say in her late 40's or early 50's. Smartly dressed in something dark, casual, and expensive. The necklace and earrings looked expensive too. She was in good shape. Maybe a little curvy, but it looked like she used her gym membership. Maybe she owned the gym.
Her hair was a dirty blonde that looked like constant work for her preferred hair designer. It waved almost down to her shoulders, with finely sculptured bangs. I'll bet she rocked that Aniston style twenty years ago. Her skin was slightly pale, but looked great. Arranged her life around her spa treatments apparently.
But it was the eyes that really did something to me. Brown, with little flecks of yellow in them. The kind of penetrating stare that would have put my old school headmistress's glower to shame. I found myself just staring into those eyes. Staring, and staring, and staring, and...
"I'm ready anytime you are, dear."
Shit! Was I staring?
"Yes, so sorry" I blurted out.
"That's ok. It was a novel experience to be kept waiting."
I checked her in. Her name was Camille...? Hmm. Wasn't sure exactly how to pronounce that surname. I'll just use...
"Ma'am, here are your keys" as I handed her key-cards to her.
"Don't call me Ma'am. I do not answer to Ma'am."
"Yes, of course Mrs., uh—"
"Don't call me anything now. We'll work on that later. Just nod your head for me."
All right, then. This was uber-weird, but...I just nodded my head like an idiot. It was like she had some sort of hold on me.
We were done, I guess. She strolled over to the lift. I couldn't help following her with my eyes. I turned back to my computer, didn't want to be caught staring, but I was straining with my peripheral vision, and...she turned her head.
She ignored the lift that just arrived to walk back over, coming behind my desk. She grabbed my shoulders, looked me up and down. Then she undid a button, fluffed my collar, wet her hand, and did something to my bang.
"There" she says, "You're attractive, you know."
Did her tongue just flit across her lip? She couldn't have possibly licked her lips, could she?
"But you could be very, very attractive. Lots of potential here. Don't worry, we'll get you there."
She disappeared on the next lift.
Chapter Three
How long did I stare at that elevator? Until the next client showed up a minute later, that's how long. I pretty much forgot about Camille as the day wore on. Not initially, but then the check-in's and the constant calls to the front desk pretty much obliterated the day. At odd moments of respite, I would come back to her in my thoughts. What was it about her? Why did she keep coming back into my head? How had she even gotten in there in the first place? And what else do they sell in that lingerie shop across the road?
Was this some sort of attraction? It would be very odd if it were. I'd never been that into the ladies before. Sure I'd shared a few innocent kisses with my teenage girlfriends. I may have even fantasized a little, but I wasn't really the experimental type. I had a path I was on, and that wasn't the sort of person I was. My boyfriend wasn't experimental in the least, which is why we got along so well. Still, every once in awhile I wanted him to take some initiative. Would it be so wrong to stick a finger up my ass during missionary, to see how I reacted? It was dirty, I know, but I was kind of curious about what it would feel like.
"I see you checked Camille in today."
I was daydreaming between check-ins, but leave it to Monte to ruin a moment like that.
"Oh, yes. Is she a regular?"
"Very. You should get to know her...if she shows any interest."
"Yes, um, how precisely do you pronounce her last name? I think I may have it. Is it...?
"Oh, I wouldn't worry about it. Chances of you ever using it are very slim."
Okay, now even Monte's acting weird. Maybe this is one of those dreams where I strip off my uniform, walk through the lobby naked, and wake up in another cold sweat with my hands between my...
My shift ended at 6. I felt a presence behind me as I logged off my terminal. I turned around, and sure enough, Camille was there. She wet her hand, and brushed my bang back again.
"I'm going for a drink in the lobby. You should join me, of course."
It wasn't phrased like a question.
"I'm pretty sure that's against the rules, especially when I'm in uniform."
"Not any more. Follow me, please" Camille said as she took my hand.
