Mr. North wags a finger at me as if telling me to wait, silencing me. “This is how this all works. I'm not too fond of excessive talking. On the other hand, you seem to like running your mouth a lot.”
Maybe he isn’t so bad after all. Perhaps we are the same deep down, deeply fucked up people. And at least he isn’t pretending to be something or someone he isn’t. He isn’t hiding who he is. And I find it incredibly admirable and intoxicatingly attractive.
“That's what little girls do. I'm a grown man. My time is valuable. My time is money. You're going to waste as little of it as possible. You address me as Sir or Mr. North. Nothing else. Maybe if you're a good girl, I might eventually let you call me your King.”
Nervous laughter threatens to bubble from my chest, choking me. The audacity of this man. King.
I look at him, feasting upon his hardened body, drinking in the angular lines of his face again. Then, as if reading my mind, he interrupts my reverie. Hard blue eyes lock with mine, and I feel the jolt of attraction go straight to my pussy. Maybe a King, indeed.
As I hold his gaze a moment too long, he corrects me. “That shit ends now.”
“What?” I sputter. He cuts in yet again before I can finish a coherent thought.
“You don't get the privilege to look me in the eyes. Unless told otherwise, keep your eyes cast down. And no more of this shit where you're not addressing me properly. You're not my friend or my lover. You're nothing to me. The sooner you understand that the better off you'll be. You're a girl who wants to come out on the other side and prove she is worth something. I find value in that. I think you have the possibility of promise. I think you can make many of my clients happy. This arrangement might work out for you if you follow the rules.”
He continues, “Oh. And even though I shouldn’t have to waste my breath or time stating such obvious things, I will tell you something now. There is no falling in love with anyone at the manor. And certainly no falling in love with me. It will get you nowhere.”
I can’t help the question from tumbling off my lips, “Are you already seeing someone, Sir?”
I don’t know what I expect, maybe a chuckle or smirk? But instead, he only gives me a cold stare.
“I fall for no one. No one stirs me. And the only person I care about is myself.”
As the words leave his mouth, I know they aren’t true. But I let him have it because I understand him. We are the same.
I stare him down while he allows it, “I am not interested in fucking you now or ever, Mr. North.”
Mr. North gives a short bark of a laugh, “Well, at least we have that cleared up. Excellent for business. A mutual agreement of never fucking one another.”
I nod, “You are correct, Mr. North.”
“Perfect. I'll arrange the paperwork tonight for you, and you'll sign off if I approve. Now is your true test. I'm going to eat my meal, and you're not to speak to me. I want you to leave, get undressed. Be completely naked and crawl back to me on all fours. Once you reach the table, you can rest on your heels. Place your hands on your thighs. Keep your eyes down. Understand?”
Something stirs in my stomach, pulling deep down into my pussy, “Yes, sir.” I smile.
“Get to it. You'll do whatever I tell you when you return, no question. No objection. Now be gone,” Mr. North returns to his meal as I rush off to the bathroom.
I might have been rash at thinking I could never want a man like him, that I’d never be interested in Mr. North sexually or in any way. But instead, I’m learning that we are more alike than we thought. So maybe we aren’t enemies after all.
I’m giddy inside. It takes everything I have not to skip. I think an ordinary girl would say she feels nervous, but this is the best foreplay I've had. Ever. He has no idea what mess he is stepping into with me. If Mr. North believes he will make me feel insecure or anxious, he's met the wrong girl.
Or maybe he's finally met the right one.
Chapter 12
My skin prickles at the cool air humming from the air conditioning that hits my skin, causing goosebumps to spring up in places I had no idea that could. My nipples are alert and look even more perky than usual in the dim lighting.
On all fours, I make my way to the main dining area where Mr. North sits. There is something thrilling in being naked in the restaurant I’ve worked in for the last three years. I continue crawling to Mr. North, slinking like a cat. If he wants to degrade me like an animal, I will own it. I take my time crawling over to him. Sharp pebbles and traces of sand adhere to my palms and my knees.
Once I finally make it to my destination, my knees are raw. They are not used to this shit, but I suck it up because money is money. As requested, I leave my hands resting upon my thighs, and my eyes cast down.
But let's be honest. This man requesting anything is purely a farce. He demands everything, and he gets what he wants.
I am on my knees, counting my breaths as they go in and out to keep track of the time. The only sound in the restaurant is the ocean waves crashing outside. And his knife and fork cutting across the plate. I can even hear him gulping as he swallows each bite. I make it to five hundred breaths before he finally clears his throat. To look up is tempting, but I stop at the last second. His chair scrapes across the bare wooden floors.
“Look at you,” Mr. North says as he takes his time pacing around me, observing my body without touching it. Then, finally, he walks to the other side of the table, looking at his briefcase. He places it gently near his now empty plate. The case springs open with a loud squeak after the latch releases. It is relatively large and very boxy, like a hardened travel case. I think it is for camera equipment at first, and he will probably take my pictures, but I’m mistaken.
“On your feet,” he says rather harshly to me.