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I’m usually very stringent about vetting my applicants, but she was so perfect for what I need her for that I didn’t bother. I hope that doesn’t become my undoing. For a moment I consider contacting Luic, my private investigator, and having her checked out. No, I decide, shaking my head. If it proves to be a problem, I can deal with it later. She was so damn intent on hiding behind her mask, pretending I didn’t scare her, when anyone could see how terrified she was. Fear excites me.
I wasn’t lying when I told her how many women had applied for the role. Out of all the possibilities, less than a handful suited me, and after interviewing all of them, Charlotte is the clear standout. I can’t explain why; I just knew the moment I saw her she was what I needed.
The rest of them were all the same, and I could tell right away there would be no challenge. I laugh. How can there be only one interesting woman left in this fucking city? I guess it doesn’t matter, though, because all it takes is that one—provided I play my cards right.
I pick up Charlotte’s application and flick through it. Why is a girl like that applying for a job like this? Her résumé is impressive, with an Ivy League education and great results. The only thing she lacks is experience, but that could be a good thing. A pretty, green young thing with a fiery attitude is just what I need, especially when she’s willing to explore.
My phone rings and I answer it, already knowing it’s my housekeeper, Marina, wanting to know what I feel like for dinner. At the moment, dinner is the furthest thing from my mind, because all I can think about is Charlotte and how I can’t wait to slide my hard cock into the tight pussy that I know she’s hiding under that skirt.
God, the look on her pretty little face when I told her not to wear underwear…I’m going to enjoy this. I can’t let my desire to fuck her interfere with the bigger picture, but there’s no rule against my having a little fun.
“Marina,” I say, rubbing my neck. It’s been a long day since I went for my run at six this morning, and my rumbling stomach is informing me that I do in fact need to eat. “How can I help you?”
“What shall I prepare you for this evening?” she asks, her faint Irish accent coming through. Slight, with graying hair and kind, dark eyes, she is one of the few people I trust, mainly because she knows what I like and how I like it. My needs are very particular, and having someone I feel I can trust is of paramount importance to me.
Marina has been with me for ten years—since I graduated from school. I’ve known her all my life, though. She was my parents’ housekeeper when I was a child, though the only times I got to see her were the rare occasions when my parents allowed me to come home from boarding school for the holidays. When I moved back to LA, it seemed appropriate for me to hire Marina, given that she was the closest thing I had left to a family.
“I’ll leave it up to you tonight, Marina. I’ll eat at six, please. And fetch me a bottle of pinot from the cellar.” I pause, taking a moment to gather my thoughts. “Can you also prepare the room, please? I’ll be needing Holly tonight. Have her ready for me at eight p.m. sharp.”
“Of course, Mr. Murphy.”
I hang up the phone and sit back in my chair, thinking about how Charlotte is going to fit into the family. Some women handle it, others don’t. And I understand that: My lifestyle is not for everyone.
Currently I employ five women to take care of my needs. Each girl meets a specific need, and whom I desire and when depends greatly on my mood. I can go weeks without using a girl, or I can use the same girl for weeks. It all depends on my mood and what I’m feeling. Tonight I’m in the mood for something rough and dirty. Holly is the perfect girl to fulfill that requirement.
I guess it sounds odd that I run my life in such a controlled manner, but it’s the only way I can function. I have no interest in being in a relationship, or any connection outside of sex. I don’t have the time or inclination to pick up random women at bars. I like things clean and simple, and this arrangement works out well for everyone.
All my girls live on the grounds with me, each being housed in her own wing. They are on call to me 24-7 on the days they are scheduled to work, but that doesn’t mean I don’t allow them to have lives. So long as their activities don’t interfere with my needs, they are welcome to do as they please.
At exactly six, I sit down in the dining room and Marina serves me dinner. I approve of her decision to go with pan-fried snapper and seasonal stir-fried greens.
“Thank you,” I murmur. I watch her closely as she piles my plate high. I make her nervous, but then again, I make everyone nervous. It’s not intentional; I just have little desire for small talk, which I guess comes off as abrupt. “You’re dismissed, Marina.”
She nods and then scurries out of the room, her head bowed low.
I eat my food in silence, my thoughts swaying from work to Charlotte and back again. I’m looking forward to her starting with me tomorrow, but I’m also mindful of what a pain-in-the-ass day tomorrow is going to be.
Starting at seven a.m. I have a few hours of meetings scheduled. I guess that’s the price you pay for being CEO of one of the Internet marketing giants. I work from home as often as my job allows me to, though going into the office is unfortunately unavoidable sometimes—especially when Ryan is on the warpath.
Taking the time to get to know Charlotte over the next few days is going to be difficult, but that’s okay. My usual way of easing the girls into their roles doesn’t require much interaction by me. I like to observe, to get to know them and try to guess what they’re thinking before I decide to move things along.
I finish my meal and head down to the far wing. This is the only part of the house that is not occupied, but for a good reason. I stride down the hallway to the end room, anticipation building inside me. It’s been a while since I’ve seen Holly, so I’m looking forward to this even more than I usually would be.
I reach for the door handle and turn it, pushing the door open. Darkness greets me until I flick the switch, flooding the room with light. Holly sits on the end of the bed, her head cocked to the side, her blond hair tumbling over her bare shoulders. She’s naked apart from the thigh-high stockings, black thong, and heels I requested she wear.
I close the door behind me, not bothering to lock it. Nobody would dare walk in knowing I’m in here, because they know if they did they’d be out of a job very quickly. I move quickly over to Holly, lowering my hand so it rests on the side of her face. It’s almost a sweet gesture, which is amusing considering what I have in store for the poor girl.
“Stand up,” I murmur, my fingers still stroking her soft skin.
She does, her eyes leveling on mine, icy blue and showing no fear. I pull her against me, my lips meeting the crest of her neck as my tongue rolls along
her skin.
“You haven’t requested me in a while,” she comments.
I see the concern in her eyes and I want to laugh. After the way I’ve treated her, she would still do anything for me, just like the rest of them. My jaw tightens as I spin her around. I don’t need her concern, and I certainly don’t need to see the pity in her eyes as I do what I’m about to do to her.
This has nothing to do with the need to hurt or degrade and everything to do with punishing myself. Who knows, maybe she gets that. Maybe she’s more intuitive than I give her credit for. The reality is if I don’t do this, then I can’t feel normal, and if I can’t feel normal, I can’t function.
