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In the end I was chosen, and an offer was made. I took it… and wound up in that darkened bedroom.
They’d searched me first of course, with my heart pounding the whole time. They did it just well enough to be intrusive. Not well enough however, to find the cold blade of the ice pick I’d very creatively hidden.
It wasn’t an ideal weapon, but it had done in a pinch. Somehow I’d managed to scrounge it from the walk-in freezer. With the highest level of guests attending, security was exceptionally tight. I hadn’t been able to find a single knife in the entire kitchen.
“Brioche?”
I shook my head at the server — Frederick, I think his name was — and looked away. I’d actually watched the chef prepare that particular appetizer: Creme Fraiche and black Caviar, smeared on a quarter-sized round of toast. I could never really understand that level of ‘food’. It just wasn’t my thing.
Right now I was rattled. My panties were saturated. I took advantage of a passing restroom and discarded them, stuffing them deep into the wastebin before washing up and splashing some cold water on my face.
I came out no less nervous, but lots more comfortable. Still moving swiftly, I passed through the columns of the peristyle hallway. My heels clacked rhythmically against the grey and white flagstones of the broad, open-air courtyard.
The sheer size of the crowd made me safe here. Or at least, as safe as I’d ever be. So far, no one was looking for me yet. Especially not amongst the guests.
But I was in a red dress. A bright red dress, tailored to my body. A dress specifically designed to get me noticed…
I lamented missing my chance tonight, but at least I hadn’t been caught. Yet I knew I would be, if I didn’t get back into my uniform. Fast.
“Excuse me?”
I turned slowly and wandered away, not really knowing whether I was being addressed or not. Secretly, of course, hoping I wasn’t.
“Excuse me, miss?”
The voice was terse now, and followed by a cold hand gripping my shoulder. I winced for half a second, then turned around slowly. But not before putting on my biggest, warmest smile.
“Yes?”
My breath caught in my throat as I realized who it was.
“I know you,” squinted the uptight-looking man standing behind me. His white hair perfectly-matched his pleated tuxedo. “You work for me.”
I tried a short laugh, but it only came out as nervous. “No I don’t.”
“Yes,” he said gravely. “You do.”
He began looking around, probably for another waiter or server. Someone who could corroborate him, and prove him right.
Shit.
“You’re not in uniform,” he said, looking down at me skeptically. “But you were when the night started.”
He was right, of course. I’d ditched my serving outfit over an hour ago, in exchange for the slinky red dress. Right now it was somewhere at the bottom of a garbage pail, in the employee restroom. Right alongside my boring work flats, which I’d swapped for expensive high heels.
“Nevermind, you’re coming with me.”
I went to leave but the man’s hand snapped downward, over my wrist. The firmness of his grip said everything. My mind clouded over, struggling for options. I started to panic…
“I—”
“Ah ha! THERE you are!”
I spun again — straight into a pair of strong, capable arms. The man suddenly holding me was tall and beautiful. He had jet black hair cropped razor-close on the sides, with high cheekbones and a masculine jaw that set off his bright, brilliant smile.
“I’ve been looking all over for you.”
His hands were exceptionally strong, yet somehow gentle at the same time. I knew this the moment he slid them around my waist, where they settled with unnatural familiarity into the small of my back.
