i was surprised whit the low sobs from Richie. someone who just fuck finished.
“i’m never going to her again” he lamented bitterly.
the tone in which he said that caught me. I know the feeling. just like the last time I Also saw mom.
I pulled him into an hug and let him cry in my shoulders. that is all I can do for him.
the remaining days I spent with him was used in making love and working perhaps but the working aspect is not much.
its my last night here.
My sleep is fitful, and I give up at three in the morning, going into the bathroom to take a shower and get ready for my day. If I can’t sleep, I might as well go clean the mess we made in the office and then make one last breakfast here. It’s my last day, and that has me as uneasy as how we left things between us last night. Despite having showered right before going to bed, I linger beneath the hot spray until my skin begins to wrinkle.
This is my last shower in this spa worthy beast of a bathroom, and I’ll have to resume conserving water and electricity tomorrow. richie can afford for me to nearly empty his hot water tank just this once.
Wrapped in one of the bath towels, I consider asking if I can have one as a memento of our week together. It’s as big as a blanket and softer than a robe, plus it actually soaks up the water from my hair instead of just allowing the drops to keep running down my body. My reflection in the mirror looks different somehow, and I don’t think it’s just from all the orgasms he’s given me.
There’s something calmer in how I stand, perhaps more confident as I know that all I have to worry about is doing what he asks of me. It is a benefit to this relationship we’ve developed, and I will be sad for it to end.
It’s been rare for me to know that I’ll be taken care of, and for it to be a constant reassurance has been such a relief this week. As long as I listen and obey, all my needs are met. In truth, they’re met even when I’m not as great at obeying, but then there are consequences as well.
There is one more outfit for me to wear, and I zip up the leather bustier and wriggle into the tight, short skirt without blanching. Cold at first, the material
warms with my body heat and holds my breasts up and out like grapefruits on a breakfast platter.
I’m finally getting used to his choice in clothes in time to return to my usual, modest wardrobe.
Despite my tossing and turning last night, the bedding is smoothed easily, and I move my duffel bag to the foot of the bed for packing my toiletries.
Katie-cat, floppy and worn, supervises from the bedside table, and I tuck the stuffed animal into the bag as well. It’s damp from last night’s tears.
Giving the room a once-over, I check that nothing of mine has been left behind. All of the new clothes from richie have been folded into the stack of white boxes on the desk, and it’s hard to think that it was just seven days ago when he stripped me.
I slip on the pair of heels from the first day as a peace offering over last night and cut through the bathroom to richie’s bedroom. Finding the door unlocked, I turn the knob and open it slowly, trying not to wake him. It’s still an hour before he’s usually up.
His overhead light is on, but his bed is perfectly made, without him in it.
“richie?” I call softly. I check his closet and then out in the hall, but he’s not up here—not even in the office.
The only signs that we fucked in here are a canister of cleaning wipes on the desktop and the fact that his monitor is off-center.
He cleaned away all traces of me from his bedroom and office, as if he’s ready to get rid of me before our full week is officially up.
“If that’s the way he wants it,” I muse aloud.
I carry my bag downstairs with me and set it by the door. I can return this outfit to him tomorrow or change before I go home, whatever he wants me to do.
It doesn’t take me long to discover that richie isn’t home.
All the rooms are empty, and I can follow the trail of forgotten lights from whenever he had gone through putting away things last night or this morning. Knowing how he feels about them, I turn out each light on my way back to the kitchen.
Something must have happened at work that called him in. He wouldn’t have left me here alone otherwise, would he?
I’m halfway through a mug of coffee when my cellphone rings, breaking the house’s silence.
“cara! this is Collette. Mr. Lamant wants to see you in his office first thing this morning. I know your calendar says that you’re still on vacation today, but are you available to come in?”
This can’t be good if he needs me there.
Confused over why he didn’t just take me with him earlier, I promise Collette I’m on my way. I take a moment to change into my own clothing and brush my hair back into a loose bun.
There’s no time for makeup or anything fancy, but with all Richie has seen of me this week, I don’t think he’ll mind that I don’t look ready for a photoshoot.
He’s facing the windows when I arrive, one huge arm up on the wall as he stares out at the skyline. His suit jacket wrinkles in taut lines around his muscles. His other arm rests loosely at his side.
It’s hard to imagine that this is the room where I first knelt for him. If only I’d known then what I do now as I begged for my job, how foolish I was to think I could take whatever he asked.
What is it that I want now?
Can I resume just being his employee? I don’t know if I can. I don’t even know if it’s an option, if all my effort was wasted. .
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