‘Is everything okay?’ she says softly.
I look down at her pale hands, wanting desperately to take them in mine.
‘I don’t want you to stay because you feel you have to,’ I whisper. ‘If you want to leave because of last night, then you can leave. I’ll write you a solid review, be a reference for you, whatever you need. You owe me nothing.’
She stares at me and blinks. Then she takes a breath and holds it, looking down at her feet again for a moment before she meets my eye. She’s so goddamn beautiful I can feel my hands shaking and my stomach twisting like I’m in high school again, asking the prettiest girl in class to the prom.
‘Mr Ledger, I wanted last night,’ she says, looking back up at me with her angel eyes. ‘I wanted you to touch me, and to…’ she stays silent for a moment as my chest thumps, waiting for her to continue. ‘I’d like to stay,’ she says at last. ‘Not because I have to, but because I want to.’
‘You do?’ I ask.
‘I like your rules,’ she says. ‘And the… consequences of breaking them. Your discipline.’
This isn’t happening. It’s too goddamn perfect. She’s too perfect. I’ve lost my mind.
‘I want you to teach me,’ she continues. ‘To show me how to be a…’ she tapers off, blushing so hard her skin almost matches her hair.
‘Agood girl,’ I finish.
And she smiles, nods, and pushes up onto her tiptoes until her lips are so close to my ear I can hear them part.
‘I am yours, Mr Ledger,’ she whispers. ‘To do with you as you wish.’
Her emerald eyes darken for a moment as she pulls away, then she licks her lips, pecks my cheek, flicks away and bounds up the stairs… and I know I’ll feel the warmth of that kiss and the resonance of those words, for the rest of my life.
*
I am walking on air.
I float back into my room like a feather, drifting freely on a summer breeze as I close the door behind me, then I lean back against it and sink to the floor as my legs become jelly and my smile breaks my jaw.
Oh my goodness. Oh my goodness. Oh my goodness.
When I woke up this morning I had hoped that what happened last night would not be a desperate one-off, something regarded as a mistake, something to be forcefully forgotten and never spoken about or alluded to again, as though it was a shameful act committed by both a man possessed and a girl enthralled. I had hoped that Mr Ledger would at the very least let me keep my job, and somehow we would navigate a sexually charged but ultimately flawed professional relationship that would come to a polite and timely end a few weeks or months from now… instead, I get this.
I kick my legs, drumming them into the carpet with wild excitement.
Nothing about this appears balanced. On the surface, this entire situation screams abuse of power. An older man taking advantage of an impressionable young girl; someone in his employ, a nanny who needs a job to get her through university, someone physically smaller, easily overpowered and intimidated, unable to say no… and yet, there is an equilibrium.
He has no power over me and he knows it, and this both enrages him and intrigues him. For I am a temptress engendering a house of sin. Seducing a pious widow to his ruin, beguiling him with my supple body, and inciting dark and illicit flames of fervour with the innocence of my youth.
I am none of these things, and yet I am all of them. With just a few words I have green lit every part of me, for use at any time, without provocation or blackmail.
I don’t need this job. I could move in with Felicity if I had to, focus on my studies, split the bills, date boys, and be silly, but I don’t want that.
I want this.
And yet, I have no idea what to expect, and I shiver with the thrill.
Mr Ledger’s sheer presence does things to me that I can’t begin to describe, and last night was everything. I want to serve him, and be of service to him. I want him to use me, to take me, to have me in every possible way. I want the simplicity, the order, the discipline. I want him to spank me again and again, and I want to push his buttons in every possible way until he does. I want to be a naughty brat so that I can be taught to be a good girl, and none of this makes any fucking sense.
I am practically hyperventilating at the same time as my pussy is throbbing to be touched and kissed and fucked.
I need to speak to Flick.
I need to tell someone. Someone I can trust and who can relate, and she ticks both boxes firmly. She’s both the best and the only person I can talk to about this, and before I’ve even finished thinking about it I’m already texting her.
We fucked xXx