“Is it weird?” Allie asked.
I tapped on the speakerphone as I set the device down and opened up my laptop. “Kinda, I mean I’m sort of getting used to it, but I feel weird every time he walks in on my bare ass sitting somewhere.”
“Are you, like, showering more? Not that I thought you didn’t shower enough to begin with, but I feel like if you’re naked all day every day, then you probably shower more often – for sanitary purposes.”
I was sprawled out on Jon’s bed, buck-ass naked as he requested, laying on my stomach and browsing twitter on my MacBook. I had just gotten off Skype with Patrick, it was two-thirty PM in Tokyo, and he had just got back from the first of many meetings with an entertainment company looking to hire the firm on.
He took sick pleasure in having me tell him everything Jon made me do over the past two days, he had me edge myself while he masturbated and came as he watched Jon ruin my orgasm for me. I couldn’t do that myself yet, and I cried when the older man did it, feeling my pleasure get stripped away at the last possible second was pure torture. Then I thanked them both for the privilege.
Allie wanted to know all the gory details, and she found it particularly amusing that I was meant to be naked whenever we were home over the next seven days. She thought the age difference between Jon and I was absolutely vile though, which was fair, he was exactly twice my age at forty-six which I’m sure would turn a lot of people off. I guess that’s the difference between normal guy forties and rich guy forties, Jon could easily pass for a man in his mid-thirties, possibly younger if he dyed his hair, so it never bothered me. Or maybe I was just sick in the head with severe father issues, who could say?
“I guess, yeah, but I’m not showering alone,” I answered with a face splitting grin as Jon came into the bedroom. He rolled his eyes but smiled at me anyway.
“Ho,” Allie said as she started to laugh. “We need to get together this week, I want you to meet my girlfriend.”
“Well, we could’ve met yesterday if someone had answered her phone.”
“Fair, but I was preoccupied.”
“With what?”
“Staring into the face of an angel,” Allie answered.
I laughed despite myself. “Cute, I’ll text you later – okay?”
“Sure babe, tell James Spader to go easy on you.”
I snickered as we disconnected and closed my laptop. Jon was pulling on pyjama pants and a loose gray t-shirt; he had his glasses on too which I always found interesting because I so rarely saw him wear them.
“James Spader?” he asked as sat down on the bed next to me.
I rolled onto my side and propped my head upon my hand as I rubbed his back. “The Secretary? With Maggie Gyllenhaal?”
He reached out to rest his hand on my hip. “Never seen it,” he replied.
“You would’ve been like, in your late twenties when it came out, what was your excuse for not seeing it?” I teased him.
“Raising a child and building an empire?” he answered with a smirk.
I pulled him down to me and wrapped my arms around his shoulders. “Ah yes, and you couldn’t possiblysacrifice two hours out of that busy schedule,” I murmured against his lips.
He chuckled and rolled over, pulling me on top of him. “I have seen Pretty in Pink, so I’ll just have to assume you’re referring to me as young, attractive James Spader.”
It was my turn to admit ignorance, “I haven’t seen it.”
He scoffed. “Well, we’ll just have to fix that this week then.” He paused and ran his hand slowly up and down my side, his light and fleeting touch raised goosebumps on my skin. “I have a proposition for you; it’s last minute, but I need to return to Washington to see the Goldberg and Wesson guys in person so I start building their public apology and defence. I was wondering if you’d like to come with me, and we could visit PlaisirInterdit…”
Maybe that isn’t the best timing. “You’re going up there to help build their courtroom defence about the CEO sexually harassing and blackmailing his underlings, and you think this is the best time for you to bring your assistant to a sex club?” I asked, incredulous.
Jon shrugged as if it didn’t matter at all. “Their court date isn’t for another six months, and last I checked you aren’t pressing charges against me.”
“Jon.”
“Lydia.”
I groaned, rolled away from him and rubbed my face as I relaxed back on the mattress. I stared up at the ceiling, unseeing as I debated the pros and cons. Work-wise, I should be going with Jon to Washington, but it shouldn’t go past anything professional while we were there and working on a case that was under such intense scrutiny.
“You don’t have to come as my assistant.”
I turned to him, gaping at his words. “What?”
“I’m not going with anyone from the office, the G and W guys haven’t met you before either. Who’s to say I don’t just have a young girlfriend travelling with me for business?” he asked. His voice was hopeful and almost pleading.
I chewed my thumb nail for a minute as I looked away, barely registering him sidling up behind me before he pulled me into a tight embrace. “What does Patrick think?”
“He’s excited at seeing you back in Plaisir, but he’s worried that you wouldn’t want to return after your last experience,” Jon said quietly, stroking my hair as he spoke. “We could see Ike, if you want to anyway, but I’m just looking for an excuse to bring you there for a little fun.”
“You have a sex dungeon in your spare bedroom, what could The Club have that we don’t have here?”
“A live audience.”
Oh. A chill went up my spine even as sudden heat blossomed between my legs. I didn’t want anything like had happened at the initiation, I wasn’t sucking ten dicks, but having people watch us? I was more than down for that. “Just watching,” I said finally. “I don’t want anyone else touching me…”
“No,” he agreed instantly. “I wouldn’t let anyone touch you without your permission, and if anyone tried to cross that line they would be removed. We don’t tolerate that type of behaviour.”
I closed my eyes tightly and squeezed his hands as he kissed my shoulder. I wanted to go, and I’d prefer to go with Jon after what Patrick put me through. “I don’t want to get hurt,” I whispered. “After the last time… I don’t want to use any paddles or other stuff, okay?”
“You decide the rules, sweetheart.” Jon paused and urged me to roll over and face him. His eyes were dark and serious as he gazed down at me. “Everything we do will always be something you want to do; I won’t hurt you.”
Like Patrick did. It was unsaid but implied by his tone - he wouldn’t hurt me the way Patrick had. Patrick and I had several long talks about what went down at Plaisir, mostly just rehashing my drunken confrontation, but I needed to keep having the conversations with him. We hadn’t done anal since that night either, I refused to let him near my ass because I was still upset. But I had mostly forgiven him, we had gone on more dates and his jealousy was either well hidden or better controlled, either way, it helped repair the damage it did to our relationship. I had started coming to terms with my feelings for him too, and even when I wasn’t in intensely emotional states I thought I loved him.
I didn’t know how to feel about Jon’s words though, because it was a promise I had heard before, one that had already been broken, and I didn’t like him positioning himself against the other man. I wanted to have my cake and eat it too – for both of them to put their pride on the backburner and try and figure it out as a triad. It would likely never happen, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t hope.
“Promise?” I asked him after a few minutes.
He smiled softly. “I promise.”
I held his face in my hands as I leaned in to kiss him, he pulled me tighter to his chest and moaned against me. My heart fluttered as the guttural sound and feel of his muscles tensing under my touch. “You should wear your glasses more often,” I told him as we pulled apart.
He frowned and touched them self consciously. “They make me look old,” he protested.
Oh please. I rolled my eyes. “No, they don’t,” I replied. “You look good in them, like the hot English professor that definitely sleeps with all the undergrads.”
Jon laughed in surprise before pulling me in for another kiss. “Well Miss Morrison, do you need some one-on-one after class?” His voice was low and seductive as he pressed his lips to the shell of my ear.
I giggled uncontrollably as I pulled him back on top of me. “I’ll do anything for an A, Mr. Harris,” I answered breathily, trying my best to make it sexy and failing as I started to laugh again.
He grinned and kissed his way down my chest, his hands working to pull my thighs apart and pin them back as his mouth sought my sex. Yeah, I think the older authority figure turned me on probably more than it should’ve.
***
Part of Jon’s daily routine was working out for three hours, one and a half in the morning and again at night. This meant that his alarm went off bright and early at five forty-five. It was fucking torture.
I groaned in annoyance and rolled over onto my stomach, trying to drown out the awful metallic sound of his alarm. I could go back to my own apartment, it wasn’t like I had to stay here, but I liked it here. And his mattress was the most comfortable thing I had ever slept on, definitely better than my own but tied with Patrick’s.
“I have a task for you this morning,” Jon said after finally turning off the torture device.
“I’m not fucking you in the weights room.”
“I’d never get the jizz stains out of the upholstery,” he replied easily. “No, the help has Tuesday to Thursday off, so I’d like you to make breakfast.”
“The help,” I said with an indignant snort. “Call them your employees, it sounds less demeaning, and while you’re at it maybe you could ask me nicely to cook you breakfast.”
He threw the blanket off me and I yelped in surprise as he seized my ankles and pulled me down to the foot of the bed in front of him. I laughed just as he leaned down over me, his eyes glittering menacingly. “I’m not going to ask nicely for anything, Lydia. I believe we talked about this.”
I stuck my tongue out at him and he lifted me off the bed without a second thought, giving me a quick kiss on the cheek before dropping me on my feet. I clung to him for a minute longer before he gave my ass a light smack and continued into his weights room while I went for a quick shower.
After towelling off my hair I wrapped it up in a loose bun and went downstairs. Finding my way to the kitchen was easy enough today, I had struggled the first night I spent here because every room seemed connected and I ended up in the servant's wing before Jon found me and showed me back to the land of the living. The kitchen was completely different than the rest of the apartment; where every room was ostentatious and ornate, the kitchen was sleek and modern with stainless steel countertops, touchless Bluetooth enabled appliances and far too many gadgets.
Patrick’s staff was all in-house, they lived there fulltime, but Jon’s only lived here half the time. It was kind of lonely, the weird emptiness of the apartment made me feel uncomfortable - like I was trespassing. Part of it had to do with the downstairs being entirely entertaining space; the living room, library, three different types of dining rooms - for real, a formal dining space, a breakfast room, and the informal dining room slash sunroom. The servant's wing was also downstairs, which I steered clear of after my first accidental visit because it gave me the heebie-jeebies.
I got my phone hooked up to the sound system and hit shuffle on my music, letting the upbeat pop sound perk me up as I went to work figuring out breakfast. I ended up settling on eggs, bacon, a fruit bowl, toast, and copious amounts of caffeine. I would’ve liked to make pancakes but for the life of me, I couldn’t find flour in the cavernous pantry that seemed far too large for a man living alone.
I heard a door shut down the hall just as I was putting the rest of the bacon on a plate and smiled to myself, right on time.
“I couldn’t find flour, so you’ll just have to live without pancakes—”
“What the fuck?”
I turned around so fast my eyes couldn’t focus right away, when they did I immediately clutched the hem of his shirt and tugged it down, trying desperately to cover myself more and infinitely glad I had put something on before coming downstairs.
Jon’s daughter, Maritza, stood in the doorway looking horrified as she clutched her Birkin to her side and gawked at me. She looked like him, the same tall frame, upturned straight nose, and dark hair that hung just past her shoulders in a sharp razor cut. She was edgy; a rocker tee ripped in all the right places, leather pants so tight they could’ve been a second skin, and chunky ankle booties. Her normally friendly smile contorted into a curled lip as she narrowed her striking blue eyes at me. The same eyes as her father. The same man upstairs that I called Daddy and had begged to suck his dick the other night. I wanted to die, I sure felt like I was dying as my face burned and I struggled not to bolt out of the kitchen.
“Lydia?” she asked with disgust.
I don’t blame you if you hate me. “I’ll just— I don’t really—” I stopped again and swallowed the baseball-sized lump in my throat. “I don’t know what to say…” I was saved having to say anything else as I heard Jon coming down the stairs, his heavy footfalls easier to recognize now that I had my music off.
“Papa!” Maritza screamed as she stormed out of the kitchen.
I was shaking all over as I watched her leave and I wanted to cry as I listened to the faint sound of her shouting and him trying to calm her down. Maritza was older than me by two years, we had friends in common and had even gone to the South of France together with Allie the summer before. We weren’t friends ourselves, but we knew each other better than just acquaintances.
I fidgeted with the hem of his shirt while I stood there trying to hold back my tears of embarrassment. Their bickering became louder and my head jerked up as I watched the kitchen doorway expectantly. Jon came in first, running his hand through still slightly damp and unruly hair, wearing only his gray sweatpants as he approached me. His expression warry but concerned as he pulled me into his embrace.
“Mari, please calm down.”
“She’s half your age! What is wrong with you?” she demanded, and I didn’t know if that was directed at me or him. And if it was me, I certainly didn’t have an answer that she’d want to hear.
I tried to smile at her as he held me to his side, his arm tight around me while I leaned into him. Jon thankfully answered so I didn’t have to, “We can talk about this later when you’ve calmed down, now you can either stay for breakfast with me and Lydia or you can go call Mama like I know you want to.”
Dear God, please don’t let her stay for breakfast. Her eyes flicked between him and me before she huffed and stomped back out again, promising that she would be calling him later before slamming the door loudly.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered as my eyes started to water.
“Why are you sorry?” he asked with a short laugh. “I didn’t know she was in the city, and I certainly didn’t know she wanted to stop by. If anything, I should be sorry that you had to go through that.”
“She’s mad at you because of me…”
“She’s always mad at me, she’s been mad at me since she was fifteen and I expect her to stay mad until she’s thirty just to prove a point.” He paused to kiss my hair as he gave me a tight squeeze of reassurance. “Breakfast smells lovely by the way, thank you, sweetheart.”
I forced myself to smile back at him as we sat down to eat but I couldn’t shake the way she had looked at me, and the shrill sound of her screaming as she confronted her father. Worse were Jon’s words running through my head “you can go call Mama like I know you want to.” I knew nothing about his wife, only that they were separated, but I was sure she was about to learn a lot about me.