That was her comfort zone. She felt like if he was nice to her, if he was sweet to her, she would forget what was really going on, forget her place in the grand scheme of things. And he was Satan, after all. He would make sure to put her back in her place. That would be real pain, and she couldn't handle that, not from him. Not again.
I'm losing this game.
~9~
"Wake up."
Something smacked hard against Tatum's ass and she jumped a little, propping herself up. Jameson was leaning over the bed, a paddle brush in his hand. She yawned and raised an eyebrow at him.
"A little early, but okay¸ at least we're finally getting to the good stuff," she joked. He laughed and spanked her again before pulling away.
"Everything I give you is good stuff; you haven't earned the right to play with toys yet," he informed her. She snorted and rolled over in the bed.
"Why are you so chipper? It's too early," she groaned.
"We're going somewhere. Get up and get showered!" he barked, disappearing in to his closet. She sat up.
He was taking her somewhere? Jameson never took her anywhere, except for maybe out to eat, once in a while. Never in the mornings. They almost only ever did stuff at his house. Was this going to be like a date? Sanders' words came back to her, as well as some of Jameson's own words. She felt giddy. He had been very sweet to her the night before, said things she never would have thought he'd say. Maybe the tide was turning. Maybe Satan was growing a heart.
Tate hustled in to the shower, hurried through her routine. When she got back out of the bathroom, Jameson was nowhere to be found, though there was a dress laid out on the bed. A tight black number, very prim and proper. Probably very expensive. While she fingered the material, her cell phone started going off, so she crawled across the bed to grab it. Rusty's phone number flashed across the screen.
"Hey, I meant to call -," Tate answered, but a shrill scream stopped her.
"OH MY GOD HOW COME YOU DIDN'T TELL ME!?!?" Rus was yelling. Tate yanked the phone away from her ear.
"Jesus, I'm deaf now, thanks. Tell you what?" Tate asked.
"The rent! It's amazing! Thank you, thank you, thank you so much, this will totally help me with so many things!" Rus was gushing on and on.
Rent? What about the rent? After Ang had crawled to her place, begging for forgiveness on his hands and knees, Tate had spent most of the week at his apartment, avoiding her landlord. She would sneak in her window at night, and then back out again in the morning. So she had no clue what Rus was talking about – as far as Tate knew, they were still two weeks late on their rent.
"What's amazing, Rusty!? I don't know what you're talking about!" Tate snapped. There was a melodramatic sigh.
"Oh my god, it was him, wasn't it? I bet it was. I ran in to Mr. Malley in the hall, and I was all prepared to beg, and cry, and plead, or offer your body up for sacrifice, when he said to say thank you to you, for paying the next six months rent in advance," Rus said in one quick breath.
Six months!?
Tate fell back against the pillows. She was blown away. Jameson must have done it, no one else she knew had that kind of money. Why would he do that? They joked about him paying her, but he never actually had. Was paying her rent considered payment? Or was he just being a nice guy? He'd gotten awfully upset when he'd found out that she owed money. Maybe he was just trying to rectify the problem.
"I didn't know that he'd done that, he didn't tell me," Tate mumbled in to the phone.
"Aw, maybe it was a secret and I ruined it. I'm so sorry, I was just so excited! I can finally afford those vet tech classes! Tell him I said thank you? What a sweetheart," Rus sighed in to the phone. Tate snorted and rolled onto her stomach, picking at the bedspread.
"He didn't do it to be nice, Rus. He'll want something in return. I don't call him 'Satan' for no reason," she laughed.
"Shut up and try not to ruin this one! For once, you found a guy who treats you the way you like and also does nice things for you. You better do whatever it takes to hold onto him, understand!? If you don't, tell him to call me, and I will!" Rus snapped, and then the line went dead. Tate made a face and dropped the phone. Rusty sleeping with Jameson. There was a thought. He would eat her alive.
"I'm Satan, am I?" Jameson's voice was behind her. She pulled herself to her knees and turned to face him.
"Mostly in my head, that's how I refer to you," she told him. He laughed as he walked across the room, carrying a black, carry-on type of roller bag.
"How flattering. You've already heard everything I like to call you," he said. She cleared her throat.
"Did you pay my rent?" she asked. He glanced at her.
"Yes. Last week, when I left your apartment," he told her, sitting the bag at the foot of the bed and opening it.
"Why would you do that?" she asked, crawling down and kneeling behind the bag.
"Because your rent was late. That's horrible. And if you were so far behind that you couldn't pay it, I knew that meant you would have to work more to make the money. I didn't want that, I like having access to you at any time. It seemed the only answer was paying your rent for you," Jameson explained, disappearing in to his closet.
"That's very nice, but six months worth? Seems a little excessive," she called out. He came back out, carrying some shirts and pants on hangers.
"I'm an excessive kind of person. I have no doubt that one of us will run the other off before six months is up, but it was a nice, even number," he told her, folding up the clothing and dropping it in to the bag. She grabbed his wrist, halting his movements, and stared him in the eye.
"Thank you," she said plainly. He gave her a tight lipped smile.
"Don't thank me yet. It wasn't for free," he warned her, pulling his arm out of her grasp.
"And that's why I call you Satan," she sighed. "I don't think it's very fair, to expect payment for something I didn't ask to buy." He laughed and walked over to the side table, grabbing some watches and loading them in to a travel case, which also went in to the luggage.
"Are you fucking with me? Do you think I actually care what you think is fair? C'mon, get up and get dressed. We're leaving in half an hour," he informed her, heading back in to the closet.
"Where are we going? Are you going away somewhere? You just got back," she said, running her hands over the shirts in his bag. He walked back out and dumped some socks, underwear, and a pair of shoes in to the bag.
"We are going away somewhere," he said, pushing her hands away and closing the bag.
"Excuse me?" Tate asked, shocked. He pulled her off the bed.
"I have to get back at you for that ridiculous dinner last week, and you owe me for the rent situation. You are coming with me, on a trip," he said, moving her to stand against the edge of the bed.
"I am!?" she exclaimed. Her heart was suddenly ridiculously happy. If this was a punishment, she would take it without any questions. He wanted to go away with her somewhere. Surely, it couldn't just be sex between them.
"Yes. We're going away for the weekend," Jameson said, holding the dress up against her. She grabbed it and he walked away, grabbing a box off his side table.
"Wait, for the whole weekend? I have to work," Tate told him as he came back to her. He sat the box on the end of the bed and opened it, pulling out a very fine, sheer, black stocking.
"No, you don't. I arranged for you to have this weekend off," he informed her, laying the stocking across her forearm. It was quickly followed by the second one.
"You did!?"
Heart. Bursting.
"I set this up while I was in Los Angeles."
A pair of very expensive looking red panties joined the stockings.
"Where are we going?" she asked. Jameson laughed, finally moving to stand in front of her.
"Now that is a secret. Go change in to everything. Put your hair up, nicely, and subtle makeup. No slutty-eyes today," he told her, scooting her towards the bathroom.
Tate laughed. Normally she would argue with him, but she was so happy, she couldn't bear to – that day, he could make her do whatever he wanted. So she swept her up in to an artfully messy French twist, and then took her time putting on her makeup. Cat's-eye style eyeliner and nude eye shadow, with just powder foundation. She did, however, put on a heavy, matte, red lipstick. Hint-o-slut, like a naughty secretary. Perfect, Jameson would love it.
She didn't know when he got the clothing, or how he had known just what size she wore. The red panties fit perfectly, the stockings felt like they came straight from Paris, and the dress was like a second skin. Went from her collar bone to her knees, and was very tight, with a thin belt around the waist. At first glance, it was almost demure, but when she turned around, she could see that there was virtually no back. Just open skin from her shoulders to her waist. She felt like she was wearing a woman's version of a power suit. With her hair and makeup, she looked very professional. Very rich. She frowned. Almost like ..., how she might have looked had she never left home. She shook her head. No, still too sexy. She wasn't that girl. She would never be that girl.