“Oh well.” I tell my worrisome self. “It’ll have to do.”
***
The building at 353 Bloominfield Blvd used to be an old brownstone, but it’s been recently converted into office space. I approach a man with a pleasant smile and a bulldog face to ask him where exactly Suite 001 is. But first I send Jake a text to let him know all looks good so far.
His face blanches and he raises an eyebrow. “Why does a respectable looking lady like you want Suite 001?”
I play with my pearls and almost consider telling him I’ve made a mistake. I contemplate this and leaving, but the dollar amount in the ad flashes in my mind again. “I’m here about the job advertised.” I point to the classified I’ve circled with yellow highlighter.
His bushy eyebrows climb higher. He clears his throat and straightens his navy blue uniform coat. “Lady, that job is not for you.”
Now I’m getting just a little miffed. No one tells Carrie Brannigan what to do. And when someone tells me no, I just get all the more determined. “I think I’ll be the judge of that, thank you. Now, if you don’t mind?”
With a disapproving scowl, he directs me to an elevator with ugly orange doors. Someone really needs to paint that, I think.
“Basement,” the security guard says, and as the doors close he adds, “Good luck. You’re gonna need it.”
“Not exactly a confidence booster,” I mumble to myself before I hit the button indicating lower levels.
When the elevator slides open, I find myself in a drab, narrow grey hallway lined with white doors with gold numbers and keycard slots on each one. I locate Suite 001 and ring a doorbell situated near the keycard slot. A brief moment passes before someone swings it open.
The man standing before me has an aura of danger and mystery that instantly puts me on guard. “Hello,” he says, letting his thick, pouty lips curl in a sensuous smile full of lecherous intent. I detect a slight British accent. Then he steps back from the threshold, still not inviting me in as he gives me a bold up and down perusal while stroking his trimmed goatee. “Yes… as long as you’re not as good a girl as you look, I think you’ll do quite nicely. Come in.”
He takes my hand and I feel an instant spark. I study his face briefly as he leads me into the room. His eyes are ice blue, like slivers cut from a glacier, and set wide apart, which gives him a deceptively innocent look. His nose is wide at the nostrils, tapered as it moves toward the bridge, and his cheekbones are not too defined but still prominent. He reminds me of a man found in paintings of old world nobility. He’s slender and not much taller than my 5 ft. 6. With my curves and heavy breasts, I feel fat next to his proud figure with spiked hair that isn’t quite sure if it’s meant to be brown or golden blond.
The retort I had ready dies in the back of my throat when I glance around the room I’ve entered. Stainless steel tables are strategically placed close to stark, black leather couches and chairs. And on these stainless steel tables are dildos and assorted sex toys like I’ve never seen. At least, I think they’re sex toys. In my marriage to Colby, the boys’ father, we experimented—I even proposed an open relationship when I found he’d cheated on me for a third time—but our tastes had been fairly vanilla compared to the assortment I gaze at now, mouth hanging wide open.
He gestures for me to sit in a chair opposite a plain, wooden desk. “As you can guess, I’m not big on subtly,” he jokes, indicating the toys on display. “But I believe in giving full disclosure to all applicants as soon as they walk in.”
With a slightly shaking hand, I give him my resume. “Exactly what position am I applying for?”
Giving a vulpine grin, he ignores my question at first and extends a hand. When I take it, he brushes those soft lips just below my knuckles before he introduces himself. “Luke Wesley, but my good friends call me Dom Luke.” He used my hand to tug me closer to the desk. “And you’re applying, my dear, to test out designer sex toys.”
At this point, I’m sure I’ve given him my deer in the headlights stare.
***
Try out Surrender Forever, Surrender Series Volume 1.
Here’s a sneak peek at Surrender To Her Master by Anita Lawless.
“So, how do you feel about all this?”
Dad gave me a smile that seemed full of the vigor he once held. For a moment, he became that tough as nails cop with a sympathetic center he only showed to me and his closest friends. Not the withered shell of himself that I knew struck a blow to his pride. My heart filled with hope and love for him.
“You know, kiddo, I never believed much in miracles,” he said. “But this…maybe this is our miracle. Maybe, sometimes, you get lucky.”