SIXTEEN: Not Everyone Has Something To Hide

In the morning, I slowly stretch awake, reaching for my phone as I blink my eyes open. Seeing it is 9:47am, I panic, throwing the covers off me and rushing out of the room.

“David!” I call, running back and forward through the apartment a few times before I manage to find the kitchen, where David is standing drinking a cup of coffee. “It’s 10am! How the hell could you let me sleep that long?!”

“Good morning to you too.” He mocks, walking over to me with another cup. When I don’t take it, he puts it on the counter. “You need sleep.”

“We need to be at the office!”

“Everything is in the study, ready for us. I’m attending one urgent meeting remotely, and the rest can be handled from here. Now please, have coffee.” He urges, gesturing to the cup again. I blink a few times before I slowly take it, my anger still simmering beneath my skin.

As I sip it, his eyes wander over me.

“You should get dressed before we start.” He comments, making me look down at myself. My oversized T-shirt and pyjama shorts don’t hide much, and I’m suddenly very aware of that fact.

“You want me to wear a full office outfit for your house?”

“No,” He smiles, stepping closer. “But something with a bit less skin might be good. More professional.”

“What, too distracting is it?” I ask sarcastically as he starts walking out of the kitchen.

“Do you want the honest answer, Nora?” He whispers against my ear as he passes me, making my sudden confidence disappear with every step he takes.

I stand in the kitchen for a few seconds on my own, then drink my coffee, and head to my new room to get changed for the day.

Working in David’s house is… difficult, to say the least. He has oh so graciously set up his study for the two of us to work in. Usually, I’m in a separate room, a wall between us, so that I can focus. When he is sitting across from me, my focus is diminished.

Incredibly diminished.

I know that David chews on his pen when he’s thinking, but I don’t realise that he does it so much. It’s such a simple act. Hundreds of people do it. But they don’t do it like he does. The way he does it, is hot. In fact, everything he seems to do is hot. Writing on a document, checking his phone, rolling his sleeves up. Maybe it’s because I’ve been in the same room as him all day. Maybe it’s because of my evening activities.

Maybe it is what he said to me last night.

It’s a lot trickier doing my work and coordinating with other people at the office, having to email or call them instead of simply walking down to their desk, and it is also trickier with David constantly on the phone. Somehow though, I get most of my work done.

The delivery of food every few hours really helps. Apparently, David has a personal chef, who cooks anything I request. Whether he’s hired this chef just for today, or whether it is a long-term arrangement, I’m not sure. But I’m not complaining. Especially when the grilled cheese is that good.

I’m not sure if David has any other ‘Mob Business’ to deal with, following my attempted kidnapping, but if he does, he’s doing a very good job at keeping it from me.

Over the next few days, David finally allows me to go back to the office. I have to keep cancelling my evenings at The Red Room now that he has someone watching my every move, but Sel just places me on leave with my other clients. The only one that doesn’t accept it is, as you can guess, David. Which means that I have to keep his meetings booked in, and Nico has to slip me in the back so that my other clients don’t spot me.

I manage to slip out Thursday evening by making the same deal with Marcus as before, his only stipulation is that Sel comes to pick me up, and drops me back. While the reasoning that he tells me might have been to ensure that no one can grab me while walking alone, I once again notice how Marcus is eyeing up my friend, and Sel notices it as well. She seems to be enjoying it.

David stays at the office that afternoon, and by the time Sel comes to pick me up from Marcus’s watchful eye, he isn’t back, so I don’t have to argue with him about being ‘allowed’ outside.

My evening with David at The Red Room is no less intense than the other day. Although there’s one silver lining – he is touching me more, and talking to me more.

In between him using objects from the closet, he intersperses it with his fingers touching me, sliding over my core, fucking me with his fingers to build me close to my orgasm before denying me of it. Whispering filthy things in my ear that just make my body spiral faster and faster.

I have yet to experience his Worship reward. It seems all he wants to do is punish me. To push me. For now though, I don’t mind. We both need to release the frustrations within us. Him for putting his secretary in danger.

Me for realising my boss leads a mafia organisation on the side.

Another frustration I’m experiencing is also coming from simply living with David.

Waking up to seeing him in the kitchen.

When he’s just had a shower and walks into the lounge still buttoning up his shirt.

Sitting in the car with him to the office, our knees bumping into each other occasionally.

Even at the end of the work day, when he’d call me into his office to run through tomorrow’s schedule, then casually say ‘Let’s go home’ in such a soft way that it feels normal.

It’s all making my brain incredibly confused.

Every evening I spend with him at The Red Room is making it worse as well. There, I’m acting out my desires with him, and he with me. I’ve come close to blurting out who I am, grabbing him, kissing him, and letting him take me then and there.

When I first agreed to all this, I thought I could keep it separate and use the arrangement to use up my sexual energy towards this man. But then I’d get to go home and that would be that.

Now, we go to work, come back home together, eat dinner together, and all I can think about is how he knows the exact way to move his fingers to make me come.

A week and a half after I first move into David’s apartment, he seems to have clicked on that I’m spending half my days out. He spends almost every evening out doing something or other, but apparently he doesn’t like the fact that I’m doing it too.

“Marcus says you keep going to a friend’s house. Who are they?” He asks as we eat dinner in the kitchen together one night.

“Uh… she’s my best friend, I’ve known her for years. She lives just a couple blocks away.” I reply, suddenly not sure if I can say her name.

Does David know her name from The Red Room? I don’t remember her ever using an alias. Would he even think it’s a coincidence that the boss of the club has the same name as my best friend?

Surely Marcus has told David already? Run her details or something.

This is something that I’ve not thought of before.

“Marcus said he’s met her.” David continues. “But didn’t tell me much else.”

“Not everyone has something to hide, David.” I point out, even though the irony of my sentence is not lost on me. “I need some normality considering I’m not even allowed home anymore.”

“Is it normal to see her three times a week?”

“You go out more than me, is that normal?” I counter, and I see the slight slip in his accusatory expression. I smirk. “I don’t ask you questions. You could be mobbing up, going on dates, who knows! That’s your business, and this is mine.”

“Mobbing up?” He echoes, with a smile on his face. “Is that the technical term?”

“You tell me, you’re the one doing it.” I grin sarcastically before taking another bite of the pasta.

“I’m not going on dates.” He adds. “I don’t date.”

“Hmm. Good to know I won’t be bumping into anyone in the mornings then.”

“Are you dating?” He asks, suddenly looking very intrigued as he leans forward. I chew my food slowly. “Is that why you’re out all the time? Your friend comes to pick you up, then you go out with someone else so I don’t know?”

I debate my answer as I swallow.

“So what if that is what I’m doing?” I tease, my voice changing to the one I tend to use at the club as I also lean in. Smooth, charismatic, sultry. “Would you be mad?”

He licks his bottom lip as his eyes look between mine, like he’s trying to work out if I’m telling the truth.

“I don’t think dating is a good idea right now. You have no idea who they could be.” He replies.

“Just like I didn’t know who you were?” I reply.

“I tell you when you ask.” He answers bluntly, leaning back, wiping his mouth with his napkin, and throwing it onto his plate. “I have work to do.” He adds as he leaves the room, and I let out an exhale.

The other thing that has started happening since I moved in with David, are conversations like this. Questions about each other’s lives. Light-hearted. Flirty. Then one of us would realise we are toeing the line, and would leave.

I try not to think of it too much.

I manage another two evenings at the club with David before the conversation about my ‘outings’ is revisited.

Not by my choice though.

It comes about from the fact that when I walk into the apartment at 3:30am, I find David is sitting on the sofa, waiting.

Waiting for me.