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James The Butler

By: madam_noe



This work is long, 38,000 words, a complete novella. It contains multiple scenes of hardcore explicit sex between men and women, men and men, women and women, and groups dealing primary in a MFM arrangement. Themes throughout center on domination. Comments / votes are welcomed by the author. 

***

A house divided cannot stand, or so someone once said. I myself was finding that it worked quite well. I kept my life in nice neat compartments, and there was no room for error. It made for a pretty prison.

On my own I had once lived comfortably in suburban Chicago, with a man who loved me, a career I struggled for and was proud of, but now I was trapped in much more complicated digs.

Since my lover left me, my father and brother had both decided to attach to my underbelly like sycophantic weevils, and live with me. So I scraped together all my savings and bought a house on Lake Shore Drive in the city.

Like my life the four stories and basement were fiercely divided; Bobby lived as he pleased in the front of the basement, my father and I occupied the floors above the public rooms. 

Everyone separate, everyone happy.

Oh, I drank too much, Bobby left drugs in his rooms, and father, well, he’d been depressed since he lost his girlfriend and he wasn't doing too well making his own decisions.

His belligerence had always been bad but he'd gotten worse in the last year, ever since we’d moved in together. We’d been bound together as a family once more by a twist of fate, one that haunted us every minute of every hour.

We lived together without speaking, and the staff paid us no heed used to our strange ways. One cook, two maids, and a butler who was actually father’s babysitter. Each of us toed a line set down by my grandfather, a man of indomitable will who selected our jailers with great care and precision.

Bobby had failed every drug treatment program in America or Europe. Dad had amassed insurmountable gambling debts, all paid neatly with a note from my grandfather. Peter Hyde was driven by a deep need to possess everything to a degree that was unseemly, a desire that went mere possession.

Peter Hyde had lost his only daughter, his grandson was a drug addict, I was his last hope. He paid off my finance, he made me change my name, and when I moved his spies came along to work for me.

I made a decent living writing, more journalism than books, but enough of those to keep me going. Still, no matter what I did to earn my freedom, grandfather was always waiting in the wings, cruelly watching, waiting, my grandmother at his side taking note. He’d purchased the publisher of my three books, and if I angered him I was ruined.

That became my prison; be a good granddaughter and my father’s debts would be forgiven, my brother sheltered and protected from the public eye. Leave and my brother and father were cast out, I was ruined, and there was no way to support them.

“Miss?” A deep voice asked behind me.

“James,” I said without looking up from my laptop.

“Miss, Bobby has requested the use of your car.”

That made me turn. James, the butler, was young and quiet. He came from a long lie of men who knew how to fade into the woodwork and he was excellent at his job, very thorough. “Tell Bobby I’d neuter him first. He can take the damn Jag Hyde bought him for Christmas.”

He blinked, nodded, and left me. I sat back at stared out the window at lake Michigan. Not for the first time did I wonder what the staff thought of us.

The full time maid, Consuela, worked divided between my father and me. He occupied the third floor, I the fourth. Also on staff were James, a part time maid who cleaned up after my brother 3 times a week, and a cook.

My father had been a marine, a carpenter, a line worker at an auto plant. My brother was a high school drop- out with at least seven active addictions at any given time. I was too thin, tired looking, and miserably alone. I wondered again what they must have thought of us.

“Keelie, why the hell can’t I borrow the Mustang?” Bobby demanded.

I stood, knowing that in my heels I was six one to his six-two. “Because you love pretty things, and you love to kill them. Wrap the Jag around a pole.”

He looked dark and menacing in my office. To reflect the city and lake outside the colors were soft sueded grays and blue-greens. Bobby had long dark hair, bloodshot dark eyes, and wore all black. He worked out and was rail thin with ropy muscles and when he was high he was known to get violent. I heard James lingering outside.

“You’re not my fucking mother!” Bobby shouted and rolled up his sleeves revealing a row of fresh track marks.

It killed me to see him destroy himself and so I stalked to my bar and poured three fingers of Scotch, neat. “I know that more than anyone, big brother. And yet you live by my goodwill, you eat by my goodwill, you exist by my goodwill. Don’t test it.”

“Bitch!” He snarled and stalked off.

Without turning I downed the Scoth in one fiery smooth gulp. “James?”

“Miss?”

“If he goes for the Mustang, shoot him.” 

“Very good, miss.”

When they left I locked the doors to the stairwell, ensconcing myself on the top floor. I had two guest suites, an office, and my own suite up here, and my privacy mattered. I was a terrible insomniac so the floor was soundproofed, the doors too, and everything locked up tightly.

The third floor housed my father’s three-room suite along with 2 larger servant’s quarters, one empty, one housing James, and three smaller suites, two of them used by the maid and the cook.

The second floor held two large general rooms for the servant’s use as lounges, and three lounges for family. One was a library, another a meeting room we used as an informal dining room, and the third a game room.

The first floor held the living room, two studies, the kitchen, formal dining room and an entertainment room with TVs and electronic toys in the back. There was a grand marble staircase and the opulence of it was befitting a Hyde. The entire townhouse was worthy of Peter Hyde.

Only the fourth floor truly reflected me. My suite entry was narrow, between closets, leading to a sitting room with a few chairs. To the left were my dressing room and grand bath, to the right my bedroom with the window seat and massive bed. My office connected to my dressing room and the hall directly, and that door I shut tightly.

These were all decorated to suit me; silks, satins, only the best for Keelin Hyde, the heir to Peter Hyde and Hyde Corp, a multibillion empire she had no desire to inherit. Oh, on my own I was mildly successful, Keelin Connaught was a name known to many. That was all I wanted, none of this, never any of this.

I stared out at the lake at sailboats drifting by, the sun sliding down behind the house, the sky purple and blue over the water. It was gorgeous, breathtaking, and more than anything it was a gentle reminder I had nowhere to run, trapped between Peter Hyde’s city and the water.

My pretty prison.

I had no lovers, hadn’t since Grandfather drove off my fiancée. Now he would only let me see men he approved of and those he did bored me. I was required to appear at three social functions per month and choose one of those men to accompany, usually Tom Goddard, Peter’s second-in- command, a man extremely gay and secretive about it. In exchange my gowns were paid for, tailored to fit my awkward frame of five feet, ten inches of bones and breasts. Such a pretty, pretty prison.

By day I wrote, by night I drank and did my best to forget a lost love and a life wasted. Father, Bobby, and I led separate lives and that was how I preferred it. A house divided kept me sane.

Suddenly the urge to flee gripped me and I called to James, selected an invitation, and called Tom Goddard to escort me.

I went out some nights but not like I used to. Since I'd found out I was a Hyde and the money came I could no longer sit in dark bars and drink myself to death, so I did it in brightly lit ball rooms like a civilized person.

That night I came home slightly inebriated and very unstable in my high heels. I wore a sparkling white Valentino for the black and white ball I’d picked. The men were boring, the women snappish, the food bland, and the photographers awful.

All through it I’d drunk. I drank because I'd lost the one thing that meant something in my life. I drank to dull the pain that was now, even years later, still sharp and swift. He was married, had kids, was beyond me then. And how I mourned the life stolen from me.

I had a bottle of bubbly and I was weaving as I walked. No one was awake, no one to see the sad sight of me. An artist I was once friends with called me tragically beautiful. A pretty girl made beautiful by her pain. I was too thin, too tall, my eyes were haunted and when I smiled even I knew it was bitter saccharine.

So I ignored the woman in the mirror as I passed. The floor tilted beneath me from liquor and the loud death metal Bobby played below. I knew the stairs would betray me and so I summoned the little elevator.

Up I went to my little palace with the view of the lake. I had a window seat that could hold twelve and during the day I sat on it and watched the sailboats and motorboats beyond. At night I watched the blinking green pier and thought of Fitzgerald.

The bell dinged and the small doors opened, spilling me into the foyer. The pale green marble with the lapis trim always calmed me and I smiled once more, thinking of Tom Goddard. He was tall, slim, broad shouldered, dark- haired, devastatingly handsome, and queer as a three dollar bill, as Peter would say.

I stopped short noticing something was different. My suite door was slightly ajar and the lights burned beyond. Cautiously I opened it, moving slowly.

James was sitting on the plush wingback chair with something dark in a snifter. His uniform was in disarray, the coat unbuttoned and loose, the shirt beneath open to the base of his throat revealing a hint of golden hair, and his tie loose. He looked tired as he glanced up at me, coming to his feet.

In my state it occurred to me how young he was. The few other butlers on Lake Shore Drive were all in their fifties, but James was on my side of thirty. He was British born, American raised and a fifth generation butler, absolutely wonderful on paper and in practice. And, unlike the last seven I'd hired, he tolerated father.

"James, what's wrong?"

He bowed but kept those dark blue eyes on me in a curious stare. I glanced at the clock and saw it was almost three. "Have you been waiting? I'm sorry, didn't know it was so late."

He looked me up and down and I saw the spark of something. A mixture of, strangely enough, approval and disapproval. The latter was for the bottle in my hands. I set it down on a chest and tried to maintain a steady stance.

"Miss Hyde, your grandfather was here."

I sighed and relaxed. I breezed past him on tired feet and set a foot on the marble topped coffee table, undoing the ankle strap of a shoe. He watched my movements carefully and I was too tired to be bothered. "To complain about what?"

He debated for a moment as I took off my other shoe and moaned, curling my toes into the soft green carpet that reminded me of grass.

"I’m tired James, so spit it out." I was too tired and drunk to be polite, and most servants would have taken it with silent grace, but his eyes tightened along with his mouth.

His gaze followed my hands as I unclipped my earrings and set them down next to the shoes for Consuela to pick up in the morning. He swallowed. "Your grandmother is dead."

That stopped me from letting down my hair. Freedom, I was so close! Since the day had come that the Hydes had discovered I was their granddaughter all had changed. Once they were gone I could leave it all. 

"When did it happen?" I was barely whispering, so afraid it was a lie. They were both seventy eight and robust.

"A stroke tonight. The funeral will be tomorrow, you'll be expected to give the eulogy."

I laughed then and his mouth dropped open, puzzled. James had been with us such a short time, and the maids were nervous around him and so they didn't gossip openly with him like they had the other butlers. He had no idea how much the real Hydes and I despised one another, our grand secret.

"Oh, how ironic. After all this time Eleanora recognizes my writing ability. I bet she counted on me being so grateful I wouldn't tell the world what a bitch she is. Oh, if only I could."

My elation ended when I realized even in death her cold claws were around my neck. “Hell,” I finally said and slumped to a chair with unladylike grace.

He cleared his throat, obviously uncomfortable.

"Does my father know?" I asked quietly.

"He was already abed. I did notify your brother."

"All right. Thank you. Please do your best to make sure they're ready to go- when is it?"

"The service is at nine."

"All right, I want them ready by seven thirty. Thank you for waiting up, James. Take tomorrow off after the morning, you deserve it."

"Thank you, Miss. Good eve."

I reflexively opened and closed my fist. Freedom was close at hand. Close enough to taste. I was up and reaching for the champagne when I felt the draft and looked up. The door made a soft sound and I had to wonder, had James been watching me?

It didn’t matter. Tonight was the first joy I’d felt in…years. # The day was grey and promised rain, but didn't deliver. It was as if Eleanora Hyde had ordered it herself. I delivered a tasteful but detached eulogy and my family sat bored in the front for the photographers. My grandfather watched me closely with his beady hawk eyes and I did my best to look beautiful and sad.

Afterwards we stood in a receiving line, me next to Peter Hyde, the tallest ones with light hair. I'd always wondered where my height came from. My brother's biological father was tall, but both my parents were short just like all my known grandparents. 

That’s what I’d thought until the Hydes had come forward after tracking my mother down to her grave. They'd come into my life, both tall, powerful, cultured, and rich. My grandmother was stately, my grandfather imposing. Together they’d been terrifying.

Even now as an old man of almost eighty years Peter was healthy and robust and scary. He wanted the name to live on, and even as we grieved he was quizzing me about settling down. I'd had to change my last name from Markham to Hyde and promise all male heirs were to be named Hyde. Grandfather was relentless.

He made the announcement that there was to be no public wake but as a family we wished to grieve privately. And so we went to the Drake with his protégé Tom Goddard agreeing to pick him up. Tom bussed my cheek, tall, dark, and gorgeous. A flaming faggot (his own term) but Grandfather had no idea and was hoping we’d marry.

We all lunched at the Drake and he lectured Bobby on his civic duties, me on my behavior. Gramps meant the drinking which also meant he had private detectives following me again. Either that or he paid everyone who sat at my table to report back to him nightly. I wouldn’t and couldn’t put it past him.

He ignored my dad, which was fine for the both of them, and then Grandfather paid the bill and left for another merger meeting. Tom Goddard waved to us as he escorted the old man from the restaurant.

I let Bobby and Dad take the car home, then called up my last remaining friend. He offered refuge at his place and I took public transit over to Southport and Pauline where he lived in an old house he’d redecorated. Jeff led a quiet life with a string of anonymous lovers he met in the more subdued gay bars off Halsted, and during the day he created small cartoons he sold off to Nickelodeon, Spike TV, SNL, and even Disney.

Jeff was straight edge and so we drank coffee and hot chocolate as we chatted. He alone knew my woes with the grandparents and he rubbed my shoulders and back while I complained about the lecture, telling me to hold on. He knew why I couldn't leave, and unlike the others had never judged me for leaving my fiancé.

Jeff’s companionship gave me resolve and so I went home. I could have stayed longer but Jeff had to work and I wanted to be alone. Dad had announced fishing and Bobby would be off with one of his girls, drowning his sorrows. The servants all had the day off so at last the townhouse was for me and me alone.

The cook had left no lunch, just fixings as usual and I made a beeline to the fridge for a snack. At the Drake I had lost my appetite.

I stopped just inside the kitchen when I found James sitting there. His coat was off and his shirtsleeves rolled up revealing well-muscled forearms. He was eating an apple and looking over the Tribune. When I came in he jerked to attention and reached for his jacket.

"Sit down James, don't have a heart attack." He was very tense, something I just realized. Very nervous, but this wasn’t his first job.

"Miss Hyde? I didn't think you were coming home so early."

"Have a seat, relax. I just decided to come home for a little quiet time and a snack."

"I could make something-"

"Take it easy.” He still wasn’t seated and for the first time I realized he was very tall. “I don't need you or Janette to cook every meal for me."

He frowned.

"Just ignore me. Oh, have you had lunch?"

"No, but-"

"Then I'll make two PBJs."

He slid back to the stool with a confused look as I rummaged the cabinets and drawers for what I needed. It was the perfect time to clear some things up. "You're probably too circumspect for gossip."

"Miss?"

"Meaning you probably know little about me, but much of the Hyde name."

He didn't respond so I pulled out the jelly and bread from the refrigerator and opened them up. "I haven't always been a Hyde." I searched for the silverware and found it on the fourth try.

When I looked at him his chiseled face was quiet and I knew I had his attention. "You've probably guessed, since my father is ‘Mr. Markham’ that I was once a Markham.

"Well, Markhams are born poor. We don't have much on education…among other things. I was told my maternal grandparents died young, and that was all.” I slapped one sandwich together and wiped the knife off before grabbing the peanut butter jar. 

“I had my own life. I was writing, I was taking care of my brother and my father just fine and dandy. I never asked to be found but Peter Hyde tracked down my mother to her grave and then us. At first he groomed Bobby to be his heir but anyone with half a brain knows Bobby is a walking disaster.

“So then he turned to me. It’s no one’s business why but we reached an agreement.” I finished the second sandwich and sought out the pantry and chips. “Grandfather has me at his beck and call but here, in this house, I am master. I own every brick by my own money, I pay your salary with it, everything is mine except for three dresses that old bastard sends over every month.”

"Miss?"

"This is my home, not his. When I am not home do not let my grandfather in. Is that understood?"

"Miss?"

"He is not welcome, has no right to be here, and unless I give my express permission for him to enter he is trespassing. Is that understood?"

"Yes miss."

"All right, here we go. I hope you like Cheetos." I lost the hard edge to my voice and gave him a smile which he warily watched.

I went off to find the television and relax, hoping that my grandfather’s latest spy would actually follow instructions. # Grandfather was refused entry twice before the summons came. It pissed him off that I had my back up, that I had more control over his spy than he did. Eventually we came to an understanding. A new truce in our cold war. I was to continue my social obligations, even acting as his hostess now that grandmother was dead. And he would leave me the fuck alone.


James The Butler



I came home from that nerve-rattling meeting to an empty house before dinner. Dad was still fishing for the weekend with his friend Don and Bobby was out already doing God knows what. Sundays were quiet around there, even the servants were in their rooms or out keeping to themselves.

No one greeted me and I was accustomed to that. I hung my coat, phoned for dinner, and set about to find James. I knew he was in residence and found him in the back of the basement in the workout room. He was seated on the Universal chair station, pulling a hefty amount towards his chest in a butterfly move.

He wore only black slacks and I'd never seen him out of uniform. He was well muscled, the kind of man a woman drooled for. His chest was perfectly sculpted with muscles and the sheen of sweat was inviting. My palms began to sweat, my mouth went dry, and I felt a rush of moisture between my legs. 

How had I never noticed his beauty? The perfect symmetry of his face, the plush lips, the long nose, those large eyes with their dark fringe and deep blue color? His cheekbones high and perfect, his jaw line strong? How had I never noticed?

I felt my face color and cleared my throat.

He let the weights clank back home with a start and pulled a towel over his neck, hanging it down and covering most of his chest. The ripple of abs was mow in prominent view and it hurt to tear my gaze from them.

"James, I'm very sorry. I know Sundays are usually quiet but I need you to do something."

"Yes?"

"I need to find a party planner, get some for first thing tomorrow."

"Certainly, I'll get started right away."

"Thank you." God, I was probably still blushing as I turned away. I've only had three lovers, and two of them I'd only slept with once a piece. And though I'd seen men naked when you're not attracted to them you don't really see them. I saw James, enough so that if I clawed my eyes out I'd still see him.

I went upstairs still scared by grandfather and aroused by a man I could never have. I had writing to do but I could put it off. My publisher wanted a call, no matter how late, and I'd blow her off until Monday. Instead of all the things I needed to do, I drew a bath.

I tied my hair up and poured in Ralph Lauren bubbles and salts before slipping in myself. God, I needed it. I needed a massage and some time off and I promised myself that next weekend. Right after Grandfather's party I was going to head down to Arizona for some R&R.

"Miss Hyde?" James' voice was faint on the other side of the door half an hour later.

"Yes?"

"I have four women coming over fifty minutes apart starting tomorrow at nine."

"Great. James, I'm sorry to load you up but I need two more things. Oh, come in, I hate talking through the door." There was hesitation and the door opened slowly. I was buried beneath enough bubbles to look about as enticing as a messy six year old.

“All right, I need two things, ready?”

"Yes." He was writing on his little pad and concentrating on it like if he looked at me he’d go blind.

"Book me a flight to Phoenix next Friday, as close to one a.m. as possible. Also I need a personal assistant. You can wait until Monday but I want to find someone who can start immediately so they can take care of these things."

"All right. Your dinner has arrived, should I hold it?"

"Just leave it on the coffee table outside, please."

"Very well." He closed the door softly and I knew it was time to rinse off and come out.

I was just before pruning, and toweled off, moisturized, and perfumed my body. I touched up my makeup and wrapped the silk robe tight against me.

Outside James was just setting up dinner and stiffened when he saw me. Why? I was wearing a robe. I looked down to realize I was damp enough the robe was clinging, but my evening gowns showed far more flesh.

In the back of my mind I wondered if it was attraction. It had been so long for me since there had been anybody that I was rusty. Could it be mutual? It didn’t matter, it could never come to fruition.

"Thank you. Take the night off."

"Thank you, Miss."

I sat down as he left and dove in. It was my guilty pleasure, two Kosher dogs with Chicago style everything, extra celery salt and hell-no-NONE-ketchup. Added to that fries and a root beer. 

I finished and dressed in my nightgown and better robe, sent the tray down to the kitchen on a dumbwaiter and found a good book.

I read for a couple of hours, curled on the love seat, before I got thirsty and bored. Padding down to the kitchen I poured myself a glass of coke and headed to the second floor for a shot of rum.

The empty game room waited while I poured and racked up the balls on the pool table. The canny computer in the corner was patched into the central one. I accessed my MP3s and selected the list I wanted. The music poured into the half dozen speakers in surround, and Tori Amos promised me she could be “Cruel.”

The rum and coke disappeared and I brought s bottle of Jack Daniels out. After every shot I took a pull and sank quite a few balls and liquor.

I didn't want to get drunk, but drinking was my only escape. Writing had once been my way out when times were happier, but it no longer worked for me. My writing was darker and though the fans loved it I didn’t. I hated shopping, couldn't have affairs with men my grandfather didn't approve of, and those he did bored me, so alcohol was all that was left.

Guilt will drive you to drink faster than anything else.

I sank more shots, drank more, and the world softened, dulled around the edges. Tori sang on about every subject of dark female will and it was the lyrics of my life.

I left the bottle out but kept away from it once I knew I was buzzed, wanting to prolong my drinking. The game was finished as Tori brought up a dance beat with lyrics that made no sense to me, but still I loved the song. Another game was racked up. 

There wasn't much to do, and that's why the rich drink and do drugs. You feel like you should be doing something, anything.

I was steady on my feet and checked my watch. There was a theater about a mile away and I had time to play a game and walk over to see what was playing. I'd have to sneak out if I wanted privacy.

So I went upstairs to change into black clothes. I dug out a beaten-up White Sox cap and my leather jacket. Once dressed I laced up sneakers and ducked out the back. Down the steps I went, hopped over a fence, and ran into the alley. I hopped two more fences and I was one street over, walking towards the movies with no tails on me.

Grandfather underestimated me, as so many did. Born and raised in rough and tumble cities I could spot a tail from a mile away. His men were still out front and I was free. Alone I slunk in to see the new Gerard Butler movie.

It was good. Dark, but good and it made me think. I made mental notes about my next book and slunk down the street to a bar where I downed two beers and flirted with three men. One was several years younger and not even legal, and two who were more chatable if not sexy.

The last one named Bill invited me to a club and we went in his Beemer, dancing to loud music. More drinks. I wasn't getting drunk though; I paced myself with water and sweated out more than I took in.

By the time we were done it was almost three and Bill wanted me to come home with him. A firm no and a shove corrected him and I hailed a cab. It dropped me off at the house the next street over where I'd departed and I made my way back home.

The house was dark, even Bobby's rooms, and I made it to the back door quietly. Then I discovered I'd forgotten my key and the door was locked. I searched for a spare but apparently, we didn't keep one. I dared not go around to the front for the goons were watching so that left one choice.

I stepped back and spied an open window on the second floor, I presumed it to be left of James' suite and leading into the empty bedroom.

I was fairly strong for my little size, I lifted weights three days a week and did martial arts, so I easily climbed up on the porch and scrambled up the trellis with little noise.

I hooked my hands over the ledge of the open window and hauled myself in, thanking God all the while that I did pull ups. I threw my leg over and felt a sharp sting. I put my weight into it and pressed through the pain to land on a bed that was hard and lumpy, trying not to yelp. Looking up at the window I realized I had caught my leg on the window latch. It hurt like hell.

Suddenly I was grabbed and instinct took over. Though my reflexes were dulled I moved quickly. My opponent was strong but I was lithe and fast. We fought and I scrabbled out of his embrace and landed on the floor. Before I could move he was on top of me, pinning me down. I pushed him away trying to gain my feet.

We wrestled some more and I almost got him down. Before I could get out from under him fully he had me pressed on the floor between his legs. Trapped.

"Don't move a fucking muscle!"

It was James.

"James, it's me!"

He tipped the hat back in the moonlight and I saw his face. His eyes rounded and he froze.

"Hey, James, uh, do you mind?" he was pressing on my wound which hurt like hell, not to mention where his hands had struck me in the fight.

Springing back like he'd been branded, James stood with saucer eyes, waiting. To be fired, I presumed. "What are you doing here?"

I sat up and shook it off. When the light snapped on I saw he wore only shorts, and we were in his bedroom.

"Whoops. Thought this was the spare bedroom next door. Guess I counted the windows wrong." He looked baffled as I dusted myself off. "You got some good moves. Wu Chien Pai?" I was trying hard to be nonchalant.

James nodded.

"Not bad. Sorry. I locked myself out and didn't want to wake anyone."

"So you climbed in the window?"

I blushed and shrugged. "It's complicated. If there'd been any other open window I would have taken it. I'll get going now." I took a step and winced.

"What's wrong?" He was there by my side and I couldn’t hide.

"I think my leg is hurt."

All the blood drained from his handsome face. "My God, are you all right?"

"I'll be fine." I lied. "Nice to know you can handle any cat burglars that come along." I hobbled a few steps past him and saw he was looking down at my thigh.

"You're bleeding."

I looked at the leg, opened the slice of pant leg. "Damn, my leg caught on the latch." A trickle of blood showed through the rip. "I'll be fine except I don't know where we keep the Band-Aids and Iodine."

He looked contrite. "I'll bring it here."

"Nonsense I can walk-"

"Just have a seat and I'll take a look, all right?"

I saw his guilt and nodded. I managed to lean into a comfortable chair as he slipped on a midnight blue robe that matched his shorts. 

I breathed a sigh of relief. His skin was golden, that strange kind of color that should have been the result of a tan but was natural, and it was all smoothly stretched over rock hard muscle. The hair on his chest was crisp and golden and my hands were itching to touch it. My head was swimming still with drink and I didn’t trust myself around James the Chest.

It was bad to be attracted to one's employee, but it happened. Actually, in my circle it happened many times. It was entirely possible that of James's last two employers he'd been a lover as well as servant. And though he watched me with those dark eyes so often subdued I could see a spark of something. I'm not a beautiful woman but I am pretty and striking, I can hold my own.

That was a moot point because I could never take a man under my roof while grandfather was waiting for me to fail. God only knew why he was waiting for it when he wanted so badly for the Hydes to live on, but he was nonetheless.

James came back with a towel, a bottle of alcohol cleaner and some bandages.

"Can you roll your pants up?"

"Not to my thigh. I'm okay James, really. You didn't do anything wrong."

He wouldn't meet my eyes. "Let me fix it, please."

His voice was low and I broke out in laughter. When I looked down he was watching me with those dark, dark blue eyes of his. 

"What?"

"I'm sorry, it's just funny. God, my grandfather drives me to do the worst things, like assault my own staff in the middle of the night. You don’t have to be so nice, it’s me who’s sorry.”

He just watched me without a word.

"I'm probably the oddest employer you've had." He smiled finally, only a slight curving of his lips. "You’re definitely not what one expects when they hear the Hyde name. Now, shouldn't we clean you up?"

"I can do it, thanks."

He raised an eyebrow and didn’t move from the crouch beside the chair. It was clear he was an immovable object.

"Look, I have to take off my pants, and forgive me but you seem a little straitlaced and I don't want to embarrass you."

"I was a medic. In the army."

I'd wondered about his military history. “I don’t know.” Still, I didn’t want to let him see my thin thigh, and, how stupid of me, I didn’t want to see disappointment in his eyes.

“Forgive the indelicacy, but you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all.” He mistook my hesitancy.

"All right, fine." Fear be damned, I just wanted this over.

Kneeling on one leg he waited, and I lifted myself out of the chair and slid my pants down to my knees. The cut was worse than I thought and he cleansed it thoroughly before patting it dry and putting on a large bandage.

James was gentle as he went and there was nothing but detachment in his eyes. Breathing a sigh of relief I relaxed into his touch. His hands were rough, not smooth as I assumed butlers always had, and they soothed my skin with the small scratch of callus. I hadn’t noticed the roughness the last time we'd shaken hands. I'd been too busy for more than a cursory greeting before I turned him loose on a trial by fire with my dad.

I shivered at the sensual touch and he glanced up, over my shoulder. "I'll close the window."

Thank God I had that to blame. I quickly put on my pants when he was turned. I had to make my escape soon before I threw myself at him. "Well, sorry to have woken you up. I'll let you get to sleep now."

I turned to leave and he reached out to grab my arm gently. "Keelin, may I ask something?"

It must have been the intimacy of the late hour because he'd never used my name before. I shouldn’t have permitted it but I was too tired. "What?"

"I feel that you're the kind of person that wishes to be addressed with the blunt truth, is that correct?"

"You want permission to speak freely? By all means."

He dropped my arm and took a deep breath. "Why are you drinking yourself to death?"

I could only blink. "Wow, you shoot to kill, huh?" he must have smelled it on my breath. I hadn’t known I stank so much.

"Why?"

I stepped back towards the door. "If you're worrying I'm an alcoholic there's no need. I have stopped successfully. No, I drink by choice."

"Then why?"

"It’s an escape. Once upon a time I had…I was a different person then. Drinking is my only way out."

"Out of what?"

"This place."

He moved closer to me in the dim dark light. "Why?"

I smiled. "You don’t know it yet, but you’re a jailer in my prison." # Monday was strained between us but at least I got my party planner. James did his best to avoid me and I didn't blame him. He sent in the charges as required and informed me I had five meetings set on Tuesday for a personal assistant. 

Other than that the house was quiet. Dad came and went with his friend Don and Bobby was ensconced in his room sleeping the day away. I heard James clanging in the weight room and bothering Svetlana about the dusting while I met with my stockbroker.

The rest of the afternoon I spent writing and contemplating my personal assistant. James was grandfather’s spy, would he handpick another spy? James had taken my word and not let Grandfather in, but did I own his loyalty now?

He came and went passing through rooms as I wandered on breaks and I noticed he looked at me differently. There was more intimacy in those looks now, a disturbing closeness that had the maids shaking their heads.

As the day wore on I knew I would want a male assistant. What I needed was someone to take notes, make phone calls, set up appointments, and act as a courier between grandfather and me now that I was his hostess. They would handle the household accounts, the stipends for my father and brother, and any annoyance I didn’t want to deal with. 

At three o’clock I went for a jog along the lake while two of grandfather's burly henchmen wheezed behind me. They were so badly out of shape that by mile two they'd quit and waited in the car for me. I didn’t need the exercise but I liked to keep my endurance up and it was fun to torture them.

I ran three miles and waved to them as I passed. These ones were so bad that gramps really needed to send them away. Maybe someone in the CIA would run me around, but not likely. I wished for the challenge; it would be a nice change of pace at the very least.

The planner was at Grandfather’s getting a tour from his housekeeper so I returned home knowing the party was in capable hands. My night was free and I had a new gown, so the decision was quick. I looked through my stack of invitations and found a gala dinner benefiting AIDS. I hadn't RSVP'd, but no one in town refused a Hyde when they showed up, checkbook in hand.

I called one of Grandfather's lawyers to be my date. I knew Henry D'Antoni was drooling for such a chance and even if he didn't have a tux at the moment he'd hold up a Mr. Formal to get it. This would get back to gramps and no doubt please him, making him think I was trying out contestants for “father of the heir.”

So we arranged for him to pick me up for an early dinner at Charlie Trotter's, he made the reservations, and I went to get ready. I went upstairs and called the salon I used and they agreed to send over a stylist and makeup artist, post haste.

I'd worn the silvery white Valentino already, and the red Gucci was too sexy for a teaser date. So this time I went for the satin ice-blue Dolce & Gabanna. It followed my curves tightly and flounced out beneath my butt, highlighting my curves. The neckline was sweetheart and low, enough to tempt any mortal and the color set off my eyes perfectly.

Underneath I would have my corset style bra in powder blue, the garter belt that matched, and the nude stockings with the scallop lace trim in the same color. I laid it out and got ready.

I bathed slowly in the large tub, Ralph Lauren beads perfuming the water, and smoothed my body with moisturizer. Lastly a dollop of La Mer to my face and a swipe of deodorant. Now it was up to the experts.

James let the stylist and artist in and I sat still as they went to work. First came the makeup and they left off foundation. My skin was porcelain and I took care of it so all I needed was some yellow base around the eyes. Next came brown liner and false lashes, navy blue mascara and translucent powder on the lids. My eyebrows were tamed and filled, my lips lined and rouged with stain and then lipstick. Highlighter went around the lips, peach liner inside my lower eyelid, and lastly orange gloss on my bottom lip.

I was helped into my dress before the hair. It was teased up, smoothed down, curled and loosened into a sexy wave. Another spray of shine serum and then hairspray set it. 

They helped me with my shoes and put what I’d need in my purse, then did a final spritz of perfume and hair spray. I was at long last ready, and had to admit I looked like a wet dream. Far too sexy for the likes of Henry but I needed to convince James I was hot to trot for another man.

“You look beautiful!” One proclaimed and I thanked them both profusely. They each got $500 in tips and I signed for the bill. They left just before Henry arrived. 




James The Butler



Three stories up from the entry I could hear deep voices as James greeted my date. I glanced down before I made my dramatic entrance.

Henry was your typical Italian stud. At five feet eleven inches he wasn't overly tall, but he had broad shoulders, a well muscled body, and a killer butt. His hair was such a dark black it shined almost blue and his eyes were a brown so pitch they almost ate the light around them.

He looked damn good and smiled broadly at me as I came down.

"Keelin, you look great!"

He passed me some flowers and we did the cheek bus.

"Roses, how nice. James could you put these in water?"

"Certainly miss." The miss sounded proprietary and with resignation I knew I'd have to bring Henry back home with me to get the point across. When men take care of you, they feel they own you.

What can one do? The lawyer had a face and a body no woman could resist and though he barely moved me, James didn’t know that.

My butler watched me with those dark eyes and held the roses in front of his crotch. Perhaps I’d dressed too well, and for a moment I was breathless. It was an eternal glance and Henry cleared his throat.

I turned back and accepted his arm. “So, shall we go?”

"Of course. Your jacket?"

"Please, Henry. Thank you." He slipped my fur lined jacket for me and we were off.

The night was okay. The little portions of food were good and then the gala was decent. The music and dancing was upbeat and I made small talk with many members of the upper crust and Grandfather’s circle. We posed for society pages and Henry and I danced quite a bit.

He was an airy dancer, graceful, and his manners were perfect. He was handsome and rich and so he should have been more. However, he was the most boring man on earth and couldn't discuss anything outside of cases my grandfather was involved in. He had no sense of humor.

As the night wore on I noticed that he was older than I’d thought, nearing fifty perhaps, and his hair was a fake black, his face had been pulled back by an expert hand. He had good bone structure but vain, fussy ways, and I began to think he might be easy to manipulate.

He saw me home and afterwards I asked him inside. He lit up like a Christmas tree, making me rethink, but I went with instinct. James' frown cemented the decision as we stepped inside. I told him to show Henry to the second floor lounge and pour some drinks while I freshened up.

I reapplied lipstick and touched up my hair, rubbed my sore ankles. I'd worn three inch heels to make me six one and taller than Henry so I felt safe. I couldn't help but notice that James topped me still by three inches, making him six three in his stockinged feet, six four in shoes.

A delicious shiver passed over me as my mind flashed on James' mostly naked body. When I thought of Henry, oh- so-cute Henry naked, nothing. James made me hot and shivery and I knew I was far gone.

"Shit," my reflection swore with me. A night with Henry and nothing, two seconds of James and I was wet and ready to rip his clothes off. What was wrong with me?

I made my way on high heels and a bum leg upstairs. My cut ached from the dancing where my garter had rubbed it and I was only too happy to sit down. James was watching over Henry like a nervous father and positioned my chair for me. "What would you like to drink?"

"Just water for me tonight."

He raised an eyebrow but said nothing, just poured. I excused him and then Henry and I were closed in alone. I heard James go into his room and knew he was listening. This parlor was thin enough that he would hear is very clearly if we raised our voices.

"So Henry, how's tricks?"

"Tricks?"

"Work, you know." He'd been talking about old cases of his all night as well as sharing his opinions about cases in the media. Nothing too recent so I thought that was a safe place to start.

"Well not much. We've got a real estate deal cooking in South America, but it’s the darendest thing."

"Tell me about it."

My mistake. Never ask a boring man about his work; they won't shut up. I pretended rapt attention even as he moved closer. He sat on the edge of the sofa, our knees touching, and his hand rested on my chair, along my thigh but not on it. I looked down nervously at it and tried to decide what to do.

“Henry-“

“Yes, dearest?”

“Thank you very much for escorting me tonight, but I feel like I have a migraine coming on. Would you mind terribly showing yourself out? I need to lie down.”

I started to rise but he grabbed my hand and forced me back down to meet the filmy look in his eyes. It would have been a dreamy look on anyone else. Before I knew what was happening Henry was kissing me and it was like latching onto a fish-lit cigarette. Just as unappealing.

I pushed away, a hand on his chest. "No, Henry. I hope you didn't misread me. I needed an escort and because you work for my grandfather I'd hoped we could just go as friends. I want you to leave now."

He laughed. "Don't give me that bull. That dress, the dancing, you want me, Keelin. You know you do. All the women do, don’t pretend you’re any different."

I refused to explain myself and jerked my arm free, standing and moving away. "I said no. Now leave."

He outweighed me by seventy pounds and he calculated the move. But he was slow and I'd seen it coming. I ducked out of the way and grabbed his arm, wrenching it and throwing him from the chair to the ground. This threw me into a table and I yelped as my wound opened up.

He stood while I scrambled away but my heel caught on the carpet and I fell against the love seat, yelping again in pain. He was reaching for me again and the door burst open. It seemed, impossibly, that James was simultaneously here, lifting me out of the way and there, smashing his large fist into Henry's face.

The smaller man sprawled on the floor, cradling his perfect nose.

"Are you all right?" James turned to ask me.

I nodded and he hauled the other man up by the collar and dragged him from the room.

I stumbled after, wincing. I'd moved fast and my leg was throbbing, I knew it was bleeding again. Halfway down the stairs I froze when I saw James shove Henry through the door and punch him once more, slamming the door shut.

Outside Henry was making noises about lawsuits and rights.

"Jesus, you shouldn't have punched him that second time. I'm pretty sure you broke his nose and he really is the type to sue." I leaned against the railing with a sigh.

"I broke his nose the first time." James fumed. In his rage he was breathtaking but terrifying. I couldn’t move and my heart hammered as he stalked closer to the stairs where I stood.

I groaned when what he said sank in. "Damn it, now I'll have buy him off when he cries foul. And he will since I'll have him fired tomorrow morning."

I turned to hobble back up but whimpered at my leg.

"Keelin, what's wrong?"

"Just my leg. I was on it too much tonight and when I threw that idiot to the floor I hurt it again."

He jogged up the stairs with a lightness one wouldn't expect from a man his size. Without a word he leaned down and scooped me up, I was too surprised to stop him.

"What are you doing?"

"Getting you off your feet. Come on, I've still got the stuff in my room."

"You don't-"

"Damn it, just accept help, all right?"

I nodded and he turned his angry face away as we moved.

This was no good, no good at all. My heart was racing pressed so close to him. All I could think about was his warmth, the feel of his muscles against my body. My nipples were hard and I was wet instantly, surrounded by his slight cologne and heated temper.

I couldn't fuck my butler, for so many reasons. The first being work relations, the second being grandfather, and the third, well, that was silliest of all. I hadn't had sex in five years and I didn't think I'd remember enough to be very good. I wasn’t sure it would be worth it if I turned out to be, well, dysfunctional.

He set me on his bed and went to retrieve the things from the dresser where the small lamp set a golden glow on the dark cherry wood and black motif.

"Just lift your skirt high enough. Do you need to remove those?" He pointed to my stockings.

I blushed knowing what was beneath. "Probably not."

I hesitated but he gave me a hard look and finally I raised the delicate skirt sliding up my thigh slowly in fear though it must have looked seductive, shyly wanton.

His eyes were blazing and hard as he stared at the top of my stockings where the powder blue satin garter belt latched on. He looked closely at the cut just above. "I'll have to unsnap that."

Before I could protest he did so smoothly showing he was an expert at undressing women. I had bled only a little and the stocking was ruined but the garter belt was clean, and I felt safe thinking I wouldn’t have to remove it. After he cleaned me up and clasped the snap his hands should have left but they stayed, stroking. I trembled openly and watched those hands on my thigh.

In an erotic fugue I was unaware that my breathing had sped up and my eyes were dark. I watched fascinated as he teased me, and he could openly note how aroused I was.

I was lost, lost to the sensation, to the chemistry that flared between us. Spark would have been too mild a term. I‘m not sure how or when it happened, but finally we moved. I leaned back slightly, onto my elbows and his hands moved higher.

His fingertips were rough on my smooth flesh and he pushed the skirt higher until he saw my panties matched the garter belt and stockings. James’ eyes met mine and I knew what he was asking, though neither of us could speak. Somehow I managed to nod.

I expected to be naked first, to be taken by force. Surprisingly James stood and kicked off his shoes, undid his tie while his eyes scored my face. I watched fascinated as he slowly unbuttoned his shirt, revealing the body I yearned for.

He slid his pants off and to my surprise, his underwear. I knew what it was; supplication, a statement that he knew what our positions were. I breathed a sigh of relief and held a hand up to him.

Naked he was magnificent, a marble statue that was warm and alive, free to touch and willing to respond. His torso met his hips in the classic V line, the hair there golden curls like wire, his penis swollen and merely a darker reflection of his golden skin.

He took my hand and raised it to his lips, his breath hot, his lips soft.

Before I sighed over that soft kiss he was kneeling beside me, sliding the straps of my dress down my arms. He cradled me gently and reached behind me to lower the zipper which slowly brought his face towards mine. Now that my dress was loose it slipped to catch on the slopes of my breasts and his eyes flickered down.

I’d been expecting a kiss but he only teased me with his breath as he pulled away. Together we slid my dress down my body, over my hips, off my feet. He laid it over the chair carefully and stood to survey me. I wore my underwear and shoes still, feeling like a Penthouse fantasy.

I wanted to blush, I wanted to feel embarrassed, even expected it, but his hot looks made me bolder. James whispered something unintelligible but kept it from my ears. I knew it wasn't meant for me to hear as I watched him move to my legs. He held my rapt attention as he undid the small straps of my shoes and pulled my feet free of the awful things.

Stroking his hands up my legs his breath was hot on their trail. I shivered against it, my lips parting as my legs wanted to do but he skimmed past the juncture of my thighs via the indent of a hip. I could only whimper and tremble.

By a small flex of his powerful arms I was sitting up and he unhooked my corset style bra. It slid open and he pulled it off, tossing it aside.

Looking down at my breasts his eyes widened and I felt his erection swell against my hip to epic proportions. It was large and hot and all soft skin over a core of steel. My hands itched to touch it but I still held his upper arms for support, waiting for a signal.

"Keelin," he breathed slowly, a plea evident in that one word. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, James." He needed to hear his name, to know I realized it was him I desired. "I want you."

Once more I braced myself for a barrage. Instead he slid his hot palm into my hair, his fingers tangling with the artful waves as he cupped my cheek. His lips finally met mine, and the kiss was so soft I melted. My lips parted and our tongues met in the smoothest flow I'd ever felt.

Every nerve ending in my body was on fire, every cell burned for him. Still he only touched the nape of my neck with one hand, cupped my knee with the other, the briefest of touches made his mouth only hotter.

I arched my back, grazing my nipples across his hot skin, silently pleading. He growled and the hand rose from my knee to cup one breast fully. His thumb scraped my nipple, plucking it and driving a moan from me that felt almost as painful as it sounded.

"How does this feel?" he whispered with his lips brushing mine.

"More," I demanded, squeezing his arms with my fingers. I felt urgent and wanted to claw at him, force him down and ride him. I didn't need foreplay, it had been too long and I was too excited for this torture.

Frustrated, I brought my hand down in a sliding caress until I met his penis. Without preemption I grasped it and it was hot and heavy and so thick. I could barely close my fist around it. As I tried James sucked in a deep breath.

He jerked from my grasp and pushed me down. Finally!

He covered my body halfway with his and I cried out in frustration. I needed to be filled, fast and hard, but all he did was tease me. James' tongue, when it found my nipple, was hard and pointed, flicking before his teeth caught the nubbin and pulled. I gasped and shuddered. The pain was so pleasurable I wanted to scream, but I knew he hadn't even started.

His left hand pulled my panties aside and he slid two fingers home. I was so hot and wet the entrance was smooth and oh, did it feel good. It had been long, much too long. At last something filled me and my hips pumped up to meet that sensation.

I arched my back again and my eyelids fluttered closed. The sheets were cool to the touch and twisted easily in my hands as I mewled. There was no other way to describe it.

He moved down slowly, kissing and nibbling my stomach and hipbone until he met my pussy. He licked fiercely, making me gasp and arch again. His tongue was softer as it pulled the hood back on my clit and licked the underside of it. I made a broken sound as he licked and rolled it, cried out into the pillow when he suckled.

James was devouring me now and the darkness was closing in, the sensations rising higher and tighter until I swore I could peak from tongue and teeth alone. I was on the verge, shaking, but he stopped suddenly.

He pulled away, breathing laboriously. "Condom."

"I don't have one."

"Shit!" he smoothed his hair back and tried to think.

"I have an IUD. And, uh, I'm healthy."

He stopped and looked at me, grasping the offer. “So am I.” 

I reached for him and he nodded. He pushed my hands to my sides and grabbed my panties. In one tug he ripped them off and in a flash he was on top of me, my legs spread. I felt his huge hardness right where I wanted it most. I clutched his back and waited, breathless. Then he poised frozen at the entrance when I needed him so badly.

"Keelin, look at me."

I opened my eyes and saw him above me, his blond hair wild as I'd never seen it before, his bright sea-blue eyes blazing like the purest flame.

"I want to watch you." 

He slid in slowly inch by inch, stretching me wide and burning a path inside. All the while our gazes were locked and I hadn't realized my breath was held until it whooshed out when at last our hips were firmly pressed together. God, it was so erotic.

He dropped his forehead to mine, his body super taut beneath my hands. I knew he was close. 

"I can't-"

"Then don't," I whispered. I was mindless and close, closer than he could possibly be.

He reared back and the thrusting began in earnest. Hot and hard and primal, I lost myself to the rhythm. There was no helping it, my eyes closed as I caught the tail of orgasm and climbed towards the peak. 

I didn’t need it but James slipped his hand between us to pull back the hood of my clit and rubbed it with his pelvis at every thrust. This positioned his thick cock so it rubbed my g-spot and suddenly I was there.

Bursting I cried out his name into his mouth and he surged once, twice, three times inside me with ferocious slowness. I shuddered to the very end on a long orgasm that seemed to burst from my soul.

He didn't collapse on top of me or try to keep himself held above me. Instead James gathered me close and rolled with a leg outside mine, keeping us together but now on our sides. He was still inside me, still thick but soft.

He kissed my face gently, the tip of my nose, the bow of my lips, my eyelids. Deflated only slightly he was still huge inside me and his body was a hot cocoon around mine. Delicious, perfect sensation floated in and out and all around.

"I'm sorry I couldn't wait."

I smiled at that. "You probably noticed I couldn't either."

He stroked my hair with a free hand, the other held me close. "That I did. Not to pry but it's been a while for you, hasn't it?"

I opened one eye. "You have no idea."

He kissed me then, smooth and sweet. "I promise better next time."

Some shadow of thought passed over me and I waved it off. The last thing that needed to be injected into hot lust is cold reason. They just didn't mix. That he was a spy didn’t matter, nothing but the feel of him inside me still.

I curled into his kiss, gave my mind up to the sweet surrender of promise. His fingers stroked gently over me, drawing every twang of nerve out along the less traveled routes of flesh. The curve of my hip, the back of my arms, the sensitized sides of my breasts were all treated to the rough callus of James.

I touched him too, my eyes closed to the dim light so I could drink in the feel. I've always been a creature of touch and with my eyes closed I see things so much better. I could draw a better picture from reinforced imagination, and the curves of taut muscle sang to me in the long halls of my memory.

He shifted slightly, pulling out and I felt a cloth press against me. I opened one eye to find him smiling softly as he cleaned me up.

"Thank you,” I whispered.

He nodded and tossed the towel to the floor after cleansing himself. Silently he urged me off my side and I rolled onto my stomach with an eyebrow raised. Promising, very promising.

His hands returned and smoothed my skin, so hot against the cool night air I shivered. I felt the bed dip and sway and he straddled me. The swollen mass of his penis cushioned in the cleft between my buttocks as his hands smoothed out my shoulder blades.

I moaned on the lightest breath.

He chuckled and kept going, driving me mad. Relaxation and anticipation, it was devastating, all the more because I knew what was in store.

The hot touch of his mouth followed his hands as James planted gentle kisses, leaning down so the delicious ripple of abs teased my back.

Urgency grew and his hands slid up my restless arms to pin them there while his mouth turned biting, teasing. I gasped and shivered and it only spurred him on. The bites were deeper now, pulling, but only what I could take. It was very unusual for a new lover to be so bold and I had no idea he was even remotely kinky. James had always struck me as a straight-up missionary-fuck guy.

Now he ground his renewed hardness into my butt, teasing me with the promise of violation and gentle movements. The pain across my back was exquisite and still interspersed with gentle kisses.




James The Butler



I felt my legs nudged apart by his knees while he nibbled my ear and thought, my my my, isn't he flexible? The weight of James settled again, the hard tip of his penis just entering me.

"Tell me you want me," he growled.

"I want you, now." I was whispering, shattered already. I had meant to resist, really, but I was pinned down, my arms trapped, and all I wanted was release.

"How do you want it?"

"Hard, fast," I begged so easily.

He moved slowly, so slowly that I thought I might die. It felt like an eternity before he was completely inside me. I was captive to him, all I could see was his headboard and all I could feel was a cage of iron clad muscle around me, hardness inside me. He moved so slowly in and out, driving me into a frenzy of twisting hips and legs.

"Please James," I begged without shame. The begging didn’t work and so I flexed my muscles inside to try and draw him even deeper.

"Sweet Jesus!" he cursed then and pulled his hips back violently. I braced but he only sank in slow. Out slow and in again, like a drug draining me of my will and making me crazy.

Slowly back and forth until the chills along my spine turned hot and the burning blazed like ice over my body. I was weeping inside, my body was beyond my control, played out like a taut violin string to be plucked to a perfect note not of my desire.

But reason won out and he began to move faster and faster. His sweat mingled with mine and though his hands slipped on my wrists they never wavered in their hold. He was close, so close I could feel the raucous tension and I felt a spurt of my own moisture between my legs in response. I was close, so close, but I wished to deny him. I wanted him to come first so I knew it was me who controlled my body, not James.

My legs were spread far apart and his hips were curling into me, his cock thrust hard like poetic violence. I bit my lip, I thought about any distraction I could, but it did no good. I exploded with a hoarse cry and a split second later he surged heavily into me, spurting impossibly more than he had just minutes before.

This time he did collapse onto me, and I didn't mind.

He rolled to the side fairly quickly and curled me into the crook of his arm. I was never one for cuddling, and I hated those kinds awkward moments. He looked far too sated and I was feeling far too…close to him.

"Where's the towel?" I raised myself up on an arm and looked for it o the dark floor.

He lifted his head, following me as I sat up all the way. 

"Here." He frowned as he handed it to me.

I scooted away and cleaned up.

He just watched as I gathered up my dress and bra, found my torn panties. "Do you have a robe I can borrow?"

"Take mine, it’s hanging on the door. What's going on?"

I picked up my heels and stood, crossing to the hook where the robe waited. "James, let's not make this messy. You should know the drill. I'm still your employer, you're still my employee. I got what I believe we both came here for."

He should have been hurt by that on some level, but he just looked puzzled. I took the robe and wrapped it around my nudity, belting it tight. "I'll bring this back."

"Don't worry about it. I’ll grab it before Consuela sees it."

He fell silent and I was too chicken to look at him as I slunk out. The door closed behind me and I padded out over the marble floor, slipping in my stockings. No one else was there to see my shame, no one to witness my triumph. I smiled and crept up the stairs to my own suite. # Tuesday was a day spent interviewing and planning. Ensconced in my suite Donna the planner and I came up with ideas for her to implement over the week, between my interviews. I didn't really care and that gave her total control which planners always love.

I avoided James in the morning and that worked out well. Dad kept him tied up. Bobby brought a few friends over and I gave them permission to use the game room in the afternoon, which James knew meant he had to baby sit.

I selected an assistant in Sean MacPherson, a rough hewn and large boned Scotsman. His father was a lawyer with gramps and I knew this was a spy. Grandfather sent a missive that he wanted Sean polished for the boardroom.

I think he was underestimating the soft spoken Scot. Sure he looked like a mountain, his features too broad and rough to be handsome, but he wore wire rimmed glasses and his manners were impeccable. He needed no finishing but agreed to move into the suite next to James and start the next day.

I spent the evening with Jeff and we talked, danced salsa, discussed books we'd read, movies we'd seen. His latest boy toy dropped by and to my surprise he was an associate professor at the U of C. He brought good wine and quips on philosophy. By the end of the night I may or may not have promised to donate to a fund he spearheaded to preserve old books. When people met a Hyde, they always wanted money, but I didn't mind with Philippe. He was amusing, and I sincerely wished him well, though I knew Jeff would not keep him around.

Jeff drove me home and I invited him inside but he refused, citing an early day. So we kissed like family and I waved him away while the new goons from grandfather pulled around the corner.

Inside I heard Bobby and his friends in the back yelling, the sound of pool balls clacking. Dad was upstairs snoring and all else was well. Sean was out presumably gathering his things and the rest of the staff was quietly at work, out of the way.

I put my jacket on the tree for James or Consuela to put away and plopped down in the entertainment room. I wanted to watch TV and I had a TiVo of Simpsons to catch up on. I set it up and wandered into the kitchen where the boys had made a mess. Quickly so as not to see James I made popcorn and grabbed a diet coke for snacking and slinked into my leather womb.

I laughed and munched and felt like the lowest form of life on earth. Did that make me fungus, or bacteria? Whatever was the lowest, well, it was on top of me.

"Miss Hyde."

I froze; it was James, and he was being formal. Was that good? I didn't know.

"Yes?" I sat up, turned around, and was relieved to see that Bobby was with him. "Hey Bobby, what's up?"

"I shouldn't have to ask permission for overnight guests."

"Well, you do. This is my house, but if you want anyone in your dungeon you don’t need to, so I assume you want a guest room.”

He nodded.

“For the love of God, don't get too weird and treat her like a lady. I do not want to find what I did last time."

He blushed to be dressed down but this was one of the few times he wasn’t doped up. It was a rare chance to nag him. Unlike Dad, who had acclimated to the lifestyle of the rich, Bobby couldn't get used to being a master of his own ship, he still looked to me.

"This sucks."

"Be that as it may, it’s my house, my rules.” God, did James know I was speaking of needles and other drugs? I did not want that in my house and I was ashamed to know Bobby brought it in. “James please ready the rose suite, and set up a bottle of champagne."

Maybe alcohol would keep them busy.

"Yes Miss," he said. And there it was. Husky, a caress in a voice alone, like he'd touched me beneath all my clothes and set me on fire.

Damn it! It never came to good to fuck the servants, to be infatuated with them. I thought of Carlotta Bangs, who just last year took her pool boy as a lover. The scandal and resulting divorce had ruined her.

What was I to do? He was a masterful lover and though he had taken the upper hand, he had made me enjoy it. He’d demanded me to beg and I did, without hesitation. He’d wanted me subdued and I let him push me down, fuck me from behind. How could you let someone do that to you and then boss them around? Treat them like moveable furnishings? I had no idea.

I shut off the Simpsons and went into the basement. The majority of the dark rooms were Bobby's, but the back was mine. There were the laundry facilities, the spa room, and the large weight room. A small changing room was stuck by the spa and inside I went to change into some spandex that wouldn't hinder my movements.

Dressed in my customary and preferred black I stretched and warmed up on the treadmill. Then I moved on to arm weights and pushed and burned. I'd turned on the computer and songs from my MP3s pounded out furiously against the sound proof walls. I pumped in time to the music, grunting and groaning as I went.

I switched station to station and finally came to my legs. Those I worked hard on, proud of. Not so much muscle they weren't feminine, but toned so much they were shapely and often drew more attention than my breasts.

I finished on my butt and abs and cooled down with an hour of martial arts practice. Positions, strikes, attacks, and defense. I centered myself, tuned out the world, and became one with the force inside me.

When I stopped I was amazed to see the room was still empty for in my mind my enemies surrounded me; shame, doubt, distrust, and more. But there was nothing but bare walls, the shiny polished mirror, the Precor equipment and the doors.

I wiped my brow and slunk into the changing room.

For relaxation I stripped down and wrapped a mint green towel around me, revving up the spa steam room. With my hair tied loosely up I stepped inside to the two benches, one low and one high, both wrapping around three sides. It could seat ten comfortably so I had room to lay down and that's what I did, on the high one. No one else would come down, I knew that for sure, so I opened the towel to expose all my skin to the steam.

Closing my eyes I drank in the programmed music, Pure Moods. The overall tone of the music was sensual and my mind drifted as it naturally would. I imagined James, the way his body looked in the dim light in his room. All hard sinews and curving muscles, power in a sleek compact model. Sex on wheels.

How on earth had he chosen life as a butler? From his education and personality he could have been the CEO of a very powerful company, yet he was working for me. The pay was better than most similar postings but he was still a servant.

The look in his eyes, that's what made me question him. It was rare a man was a predator with class. Too many men were wimps, waiting to be led, or vultures solely focused on selfish pursuits or pain. A true predator was a man with eyes that told you he knew what he wanted and you'd enjoy it a helluva lot more if you gave it up willingly, but he was always up for a fight.

I shivered at that thought and my nipples hardened. I let my fists curl up and my back arched as I prayed the sexual tension would flow out of me. James was forbidden fruit and that made him all the more alluring, haunting my thoughts. A sane woman would either chain him to her bed or dismiss him, but I was determined to do neither.

Well, nothing on earth is worse for concentration than sexual deprivation. With that thought I gave in to the wicked urge and plucked my nipple. The pop and twang of sensation made me moan and I bit my lip.

My breath huffed out but my eyes remained closed, attuned solely to the music and my pleasure. I trailed my hand down to dip at my waist, smooth at the flare of my hip and slide between my parted legs. I was wet, hot, dripping at the memory of the night before. My imagination went wild; inside me I could still feel James filling me up, outside it was not my hands but his on me.

It almost hurt to know it was only my slender and cool finger brushing my clitoris, only my thin fingers sliding inside and drawing my juices. They always felt too slight and sharp, nothing like a man’s, but it was enough for the moment. I twitched and arched, struggling to find the familiar tendril that would pull me to orgasm.

I caught it as my fingers feathered back and forth over my clit, pulsing and pushing the blossom contained inside me until I exploded. I cried out, a shallow hoarse shout that was nothing compared to what James could draw out.

As the cloud parted I felt the warmth, hotter and wetter than the room upon my nipple. I opened my eyes and found a golden crown bent over me, the naked body leaning over my own was James.

I gasped and pushed him away. "What are you doing?" He smiled at me and licked his lips. My spine was electrified even as I wrapped the towel hastily around me, still wet and trembling. His eyes were dark, his look feral, and James was silent.

"I said, what do you think you're doing?"

"You enjoyed that," he said at long last.

I blushed and damn me for that. One would think by now I'd have been more cosmopolitan, but at heart I just wasn’t. "So? I didn't invite it, now leave!"

He stepped closer and I scooted back. Another step, another scoot until my back hit the wall and he knelt on the low bench before me. "You didn't think I would, now did you?"

I was scared and angry, more aroused than I'd ever been. 

"Tell me to leave Keelin, tell me you don't really want me and I'll believe you."

His hand reached for me and I watched, dazed, as his fingers curled over the knot of towel I was clutching, brushing my skin.

"I don't think this is a good idea." God, that sounded pathetic, even to my ears.

"You know what I can do for you. You like what I do, you want more."

The hunger in him was evident, and so was the fact that he could overpower any show of force I might offer. Between his narrow hips the hard evidence of his arousal bobbed slightly with every harsh breath he took.

I jerked my eyes back up to his. "That doesn't matter, James. We shouldn't do this."

"Says who?" His face dipped close to mine, so close I could feel his breath.

"Says me."

"If you're worried about blackmail, you have my word I won't do it."

I laughed weakly. He wouldn’t, but how could I know he wasn’t reporting my wanton behavior to my grandfather? "How in the hell can I justify screwing an employee?"

"You don't. Just relax. Relax, you're always so tight."

I frowned and he kissed the spot between my eyebrows. The bastard had loosened my grip on the towel, or had I done it myself? It had slipped to reveal my left breast and his fingers were stroking the overlooked nipple.

"Why are you doing this?" Even I could hear the moan, the surrender in my voice.

He stepped closer and his massive erection pressed into my thigh. That was to be his answer.

"Enough games, Keelin. Tell me to leave or tell me you want me."

I froze and he growled. At the end of patience, James ripped the towel away and flung it across the little room. His hands flew to my thighs and jerked them apart. Before I could breathe his head dipped low and his tongue was buried in my pussy.

Crying out I could do little but dig the points of my nails into his back as he stroked me with that magic tongue. Like fire branding me he blazed a path of my length, flicking my clit before sucking it deep and swiping his tongue back down to push inside.

I bucked and grunted, scoring his back as punishment for the brutal pleasure. The orgasm galloped up on me, took me by surprise, and I went supernova. Jesus his tongue was moving like lightning and yet slow enough to draw every sensation from me he desired.

I was electric; I was on fire; I never wanted it to end. His mouth left to be replaced by two fingers as I still spasmed.

"Shit, you're ready."

Before I could think clearly, he scooped me up, carrying me like a fireman to the lower bench. James sat and situated me on his lap so I straddled him.

"Ride me Keelin, ride me like you want to. I know you want to."

Shameless hussy I'd become, I grasped his thick penis and stroked a few times, from precum to base, drawing out a moan. I moved quickly, my fist tight, trying to bring him up to my level of arousal, praying he would lose control. At last his hand covered mine and kept it still.

"Witch," he cursed. He grabbed my hands and forced them onto his shoulders, where I could only squeeze as he slid my hips down, my pussy sheathing him. We were quickly fused, hip to hip, and the feeling was incredible.

I was impaled so deeply that my breath was stolen into the steamy air. His hand slipped between us, teasing my clitoris. I twitched and my breath broke, ragged.

"Move on me. God, now."

I closed my eyes and began to move like a piston. I wanted fast and hard, and he was letting me set the pace. I felt him swell and flex even larger and I almost swooned. God he was so big, everything, his shoulders, his thighs, his cock deep inside me.

My third orgasm hit me like thunder and I moaned something unintelligible followed by what felt like a shriek. James bunched his arms around me and dug his fingers into my hips, pushing me up, pulling me down, dragging me through my pulsing. He undulated my hips so that I ground against him, purely wanton and begging for more.

I wanted to stop and the bastard only smiled at me, rows of pearly white teeth flashed teasingly. I dug my fingers in and took him by storm, wanting him at my command. I wanted every ounce of hard muscle quivering for me. I wanted his spirit broken to my will, crushed beneath mine.

I was grinding now, desperate for more pleasure and though he felt it too, he was not as close as me. I tried to move in more of a thrust but he wouldn’t let me. The orgasm was there and I swore in frustration, letting myself tumble once more.

When I came down he'd stilled my hips and was kissing me. I lost myself to his soft lips and when my hips twitched beneath his hands he held me fast. It was so hot feeling him hard as a rock inside me while his lips were so gentle. My only recourse was to flex my muscles inside.

I whimpered and he pulled away bracing his forehead against mine. "Christ, you're so goddamn hot. Don't move or I'll lose it. Please."

He was serious, and I didn’t think he was aware of what he was saying. I nudged his head back, took his lips, and grabbed his hands in mine. With them pinned to the high bench he was mine to command. When I began to move he didn't stop me and I slammed my hips up and down, thrusting him in and out.

When he came I tumbled with him, and we yelled into each other's mouths. As I came down from that highest peak and slid my face down the side of his neck I knew I was in trouble. This was too perfect; when he lost control I felt better than I ever had.

As long as he was inside me I didn’t care that he was a spy, I didn’t care about anything. Shit. I needed space, time away from him.

"James, we can't keep doing this."

"Don't see why not."

"James," I licked the sweat beneath is ear just to feel him shiver. "You don't know what's going on here."

"So tell me."

I pulled back and looked into his eyes, a clearer blue now.

"What do you expect to happen? You work for me. I'm an heiress. This is just a bad idea." I didn’t trust him with the truth. If grandfather found out not only would I lose my money and James his job, but Bobby and dad would be homeless.

He lifted me with a sigh to match my own and set me down, then got up to fetch the towel. He brought it to me and batted my hands away, cleaning me up. The intimacy and possession of the act had me blushing.

"You're too serious, Keelin. You don't need to worry about anything but the present. The future tends to take care of itself."

I laughed, a hollow sound. "Shows what you know. When you're a Hyde there is only the future. The present is meaningless."

He sat down next to me and I was surprised by how comfortable we were naked. "Tell me about your grandfather, what he’s like. Tell me why you’re so afraid off him."

"How can you live in this town and not know about him?"

"I mean as his granddaughter. Tell me about him as a grandfather."

"I didn't meet him until I was twenty four."

James smiled. "That's a start."

"He wanted an heir and he spent the first six months ignoring me and looking at Bobby."




James The Butler



"Obviously changed his mind.”

"He's a crafty old bastard, so was my grandmother. My grandfather decreed it was not me but my children who would be his real heirs. Right away he tried to breed me like a horse."

"Rough."

His hand was on my thigh now and it wasn't sexual, just oddly comforting. His quiet nods and rapt attention goaded me on.

"I resisted and he threatened to cut me off. I told him flat out I didn't give a shit, I could leave any time."

"So why did you stay?"

I didn’t want to tell him the truth but he was making it far too easy. What did it matter? Perhaps this would keep him quiet, buy my grandfather’s spy into switching sides.

"He spent time seducing my father, making him feel powerful, getting him to invest borrowed money in doomed ventures. My dad is now owned by Peter Hyde. Bobby, well, Bobby is owned by whatever hand waggles the food dish first. As long as grandfather is alive I don't have assurance Bobby will be all right. 

“He’s a junkie you know, and every time he goes into a program he comes out clean, but eventually he always ends up using. Sometimes I wonder if Grandfather has a hand in that."

"So you stay because of them."

"The day the old man dies I'm gone. I've set it up so Bobby will be taken care of, so will my father, and I’ll be free."

"What will you do with this freedom, Keelin?"

"Write, explore. Just enjoy life knowing that no one is looking over my shoulder. You know grandfather hires private investigators to follow me?” I looked at him out of the corner of my eye and smoothed a tendril of hair behind my ear. “I mean, it's embarrassing, these guys are amateurs. I keep hoping he gets someone better, as a challenge."

I noticed he was pale. "You all right? You look hot, we've been in here a while."

"Yeah, too long in here is not good."

It was an excuse he grabbed with both hands. He was a spy, a challenging one. I didn’t even know how I knew it, it was just instinct.

I wrapped the soiled towel around me and watched as he gathered another around his waist. Pushing the door open I breathed in the cool air and turned off the spa. James stepped out and watched me with quiet eyes.

"I don't think we should do this again, however much we may want to."

"You still haven't given me a valid reason."

"How about this. There are men outside as we speak watching the house. If we get caught in front of a window you’re on the streets and I’m married to goddamn Tom Goddard, forever in this prison. That is not a risk I wish to take.

"James, we have to stop."

His expression was a dance of surprise and anger. "So you're just going to cower? Never take any risks?"

I laughed once more, angrily this time. "You don't get it. Mess with Peter Hyde, cross him, and you risk your life, the life of everyone you love, and everything you ever hoped for, prayed for, wished for, and desired.

“So hell yes I'm going to cower. I have responsibilities, people whose lives depend on me. And I have to walk a fine line to protect them and myself and I cannot take any added weight to pull me."

"Then trust me, Keelin. Trust me not to weigh you down but support you."

"What are you asking? Do you want to marry me, sign a prenup, be my boy toy? Or do you want to fuck me at night and do my laundry during the day? What the hell do you want, James?"

"I don't fucking know!”

“Before you ask me to risk the lives of the people I love you had better damn well know!”

“I don't want to be pressured!"

I threw my free hand down. "Pressure? You want to talk about pressure? Try living in my shoes. Think of what you’re asking me to do!”

"This isn't easy for me, you know! Damn it, I've wanted you from the first time we met. Everyone in my line of work that's ever done what we've done has met a bad end.

“I didn't want to fuck you, I really didn't, but last night you were just so soft, and I'd never seen you soft. If you hadn’t been so…vulnerable I never would have touched you, but now I can’t stop. So I'm weak, you can't blame me. I’m not sorry I found out what we have going here. We can keep this to ourselves, we can be careful.”

"So what happens when this ends?”

"We'll deal with it when we come to it. Look, we're reasonable people."

"This may be America, and it may be the twenty first century to us, but it's not like that in my grandfather's world. All it takes is a kiss in front of a window and a PI with a camera."

"So we'll be careful. We won't speak of this in the day and at night we'll be careful."

"How, James?"

"There are no windows here. Or, we can close the curtains in your bedroom, in mine. I won't betray you by a look, a word, anything. I don't go out, I don't know anyone in this town, I don't have anyone to brag to."

"James, I need to think about this.”

When he was near it seemed to make sense and I needed space. The risks were so great this decision could not be made in an instant.

“Tomorrow, let’s talk tomorrow." I begged.

"Midnight, your rooms. Be ready, Keelin."

He grabbed me and kissed me deep, so deep that I was breathless and trembling by the time he pulled away. My hand had gone slack on the towel and I could only watch him stride off to the bathroom.

What in hell was I going to do? # Sean was tall, taller than James at 6’5”, and massively large. Where James was compact muscle suited to a sleek jungle cat Sean was like a bear. His hair was red, the kind of red that was brown until the natural light hit it. He was good looking in a very rough hewn sort of way, not like James' classical almost Greek statue looks. Sean's hands were like hams when closed and he had a tendency to walk heavily, not so stealthy. He looked a fighter, a brawler, but he spoke like a poet. 

His brogue was soft and I could tell he was a lowlander. The man was like two halves smashed together. It was charming, made him spectacular in what could have been a very ordinary life.

"Where should I star'?"

“First order of business, here's a credit card, buy yourself a good laptop. Got a cell phone?"

He shook his head. "All right, get one too, get on Cingular, and set up the billing to this card. Can you get all that done by three?"

He nodded.

"Very well, happy hunting."

I left him then in my personal office to get his bearings on his first day. Sean would be setting up appointments, fielding phone calls, and doing personal errands. For all this grandfather had a spy. This would also make things with James terribly inconvenient.

I spent the morning ironing out the final details with the planner. I was glad she had never thought it gauche that Gramps was having a party within a week of his wife’s death. It was to welcome the South American VIPs displaced by his merger. Just business, no offense grandma.

Sean came back at noon with all he had. I ran down his duties and let him know he would have to learn quickly because in a week I wanted him to start reporting to my Grandfather for social needs.

He was competent and quiet. I had him do some research for my novel and fax my agent. Finally, someone to call her without being forced to talk for hours. That realization was miraculous.

Dinnertime came and he had dinner with the rest of the servants in the kitchen. My Dad toddled down to the second floor and we sat in the informal dining room waiting to see if Bobby was coming.

There was little discussion after an argument about how I treated my grandfather. I grabbed my plate and the decanter of scotch and went to the game room after twenty minutes of haranguing. Dad was firmly in peter Hyde’s palm.

I locked myself in and turned on the mp3 player and speakers. Sarah Brightman poured out. She sang an ode to a lover who’d delivered her, singing the very words my heart ached for.

I poured myself a drink and racked up the balls. When I knew I was alone, that no one could hear me through the locked door, I sang. I’d had my mother’s voice inside me all those years but was loathe to share it, saving it for when I was alone.

I let my heartache pour into the words as I angrily slammed the balls with the cue. My dinner went down quickly, I barely tasted it. I only ate it because I knew I needed the weight, but my father had robbed my appetite.

When I sank the balls only missing two shots I took another drink before capping the decanter. James’ image floated in my mind, disapproving as I drank myself to death.

Damn him! I threw my half filled glass into the fireplace and watched it shatter with satisfaction. All the men in my life wanted something and I couldn’t take it anymore. I was pushed from all sides and it was time to push back.

I stalked over to the door and jerked it open. James stood outside, his hand poised to knock.

“I left a mess,” was all I said as I pushed past him and went downstairs. From the closet I grabbed my motorcycle jacket and helmet. The keys were inside the jacket and I left through the kitchen to the garage.

My Softtail was waiting and she revved right up, annoying the neighbors. The helmet had speakers built in and they connected wirelessly to the iPod I had mounted by the throttle. I put in the mix I wanted and raised the garage door, skidding into the night without looking over the alley.

I turned out onto Lake Shore Drive, LSD to the locals, eventually and headed south. I just wanted to lose myself but I saw headlights following me discreetly 3 cars back. I jerked into the next gear and wildly began changing lanes, moving ahead.

I took my life in my hands, happy for the distraction. This team was better than the others but still not good enough. It took me an hour but I lost them. And found myself outside of Danny’s.

Danny’s was an exclusive club in the worst part of town. Two warehouses comprised it, one heavily guarded where you parked your car, the other tighter than Fort Knox where any pleasure could be bought.

What the fuck, I had my platinum card so I parked.

Inside the DJ had the music pumping, the beat was sexual, and everyone was moving. There was another room, several in fact, where people would be seated. There were rooms to screw and be seen, or to watch. Rooms to be spanked in, rooms for all sorts of tastes. Sometimes with other guests, sometimes with employees.

We all wore masks, paying guests black satin masks that covered all but the color of our eyes and the shape our smiles. Employees wore smaller masks that just covered the eyes. Red silk for the women, black leather for the men.

The paying guests were all heirs and socialites, financial, governmental, and social magnates of their own making or backed by others. None of us could afford to be seen but the risk of exposure is what brought us out. So our faces were better hidden while we reveled in debauchery of the worst kind.

I made my way to the bar and asked for a tall glass of Dewars, feeling cheap. I got it straight up in an icy glass and made my way to the public room. Here I sat on a couch and watched the revelry before me.

Sitting on the left side of the room signaled I was a voyeur and no one approached me. Men and women coupled frantically or with grace, there were gay couples of both sexes and mixed groups. Where I sat were the box seats, my lower half was hidden so I could masturbate without being fully exposed. I passed after a few moments of boredom and drifted to the next room.

It held the pleasures I wished to see and I settled into a box to watch.

Here was pain and domination, humiliation and acceptance. It made me wet, more aroused than I had been since James’ first touches. I became fascinated with a very large man using a whip with such expertise that its application made a small blonde woman scream in orgasm. Again and again he whipped her pussy from behind without actual pain, or at least not much, and she cried out, shaking in a long orgasm.

There were women in spiked boots and men on leashes, women in chains and all manners of tricks. I drank and drank, some enterprising waiter kept my glass filled when I put the empty one behind me until two hours before closing.

I sobered up watching a true master make a man and woman couple in the most impossible ways, denying them pleasure until I wanted to beg him. He stood apart with a cat o’ nine tails and whipped them when they disobeyed. The man and woman were middle aged but well-kept and lithe, and they begged him for release which he kept just out of reach.

I found myself unzipping my pants to play with the wet folds of my pussy as I watched them. The master was something to see, his perfect chest bare over leather pants. It was like he understood them well, and it was his needs they were satisfying. He never looked away from them as their moans grew.

My pleasure joined theirs and I kept myself at a slow simmer until the master forced the man to fuck the woman hard and fast. They came quickly and loudly and I came with them, my hips jerking. I bit my lip to keep from crying out.

I swear the master winked at me. He was young, very young in fact and all I could see was dark hair, dark eyes, a strong jaw and a fantastic body. A swimmer’s build. Something in his gaze said the show had been for my benefit and I blushed, glad for the mask as I looked away.

I zipped up and trudged out with a bulk of people and waited my turn for the valet to pull my bike around. I was mixed in between Bentleys and Beemers, the only bike I saw but no one paid attention. We were all avoiding eyes, keeping our identities secret once more.

I roared off into the night with my mask in my pocket and enjoyed the vibration of the bike between my legs. I came three times as I drove and never saw the exact point at which the tail found me again. It stayed with me as I came home and I waved.

The sedan just screeched and peeled away from the curb into the night.

The house was quiet but I found Bobby in the kitchen, sitting at the table with a handheld Nintendo, the game moving loudly.

“Hey, Keelin.”

“Hey bro. Quiet night?”

“Actually I’m getting ready to go out. I wanted to see if I could get some money for a vacation. Grandpa said I could use the jet.”

“Do I want to know?”

“Three grand is all.”

I gritted my teeth. “Are you buying drugs, Bobby?”

He shut the game off and glared at me with it clutched tightly in his hands. “It’s not like that. This girl I’ve been seeing, well, I just want to show her a good time. I’m clean, I swear.”

His maid hadn’t turned anything in a long time so I had no choice but to believe him. “All right, I’ll have Sean get it to you tomorrow.”

“Sean?”

“My new personal assistant. Nine a.m. okay?”

“That’d be great.”

“Bobby, do not get caught, arrested, and for the love of God, make sure this one is the age of consent wherever you go. Please. Okay?”

He blushed and shrugged, grabbed the keys to the Jag and headed out.

I was still aroused and sighed, searching the fridge for something to take the edge off. Otherwise I was going to just jilloff.

Midnight had come and gone and presumably James had realized I was not a puppet on a string to dance for him. Jesus, a fuck with him would do wonders but I refused to be told what to do.

I found a little sliver of baker’s chocolate and bit off a piece, relishing the bitter taste. I washed it down with milk and loaded the dishwasher, turned it on, and climbed the stairs.

Thank God my room was empty.

I stripped out of my clothes until I was blissfully naked and picked a favorite book from the shelf. The night was hot so I cracked a window and sat on the seat below the bay window.

With the lights burning low I plunged into the wild west where a traveling opera singer was discovered the most irritating and delicious man she’d ever met, and adventures ensued. For the third time that day my fingers found my pussy and stroked. Had I made a mistake? James could satisfy my needs, but I wasn’t sure if I wanted to go down to his rooms and wake him.

“Where were you?”

I squealed and jumped, the book went flying and I lost my place. I grabbed a big blue pillow and tried to cover my body with it. I was flushed with arousal and embarrassment, staring at James.

“James! What the hell are you doing here?”

He reached over me and closed the window and the shade. “I told you to meet me. You weren’t home.”

“Let’s get this straight. My butler does not issue me orders.”

His dark eyes gleamed and the lines of his face were drawn. A lock of hair was loose and tried unsuccessfully to soften his expression. The top two buttons of his starched white shirt were undone and his tie was hanging from his front pocket. He’d rolled up his sleeves revealing those sensual forearms, and as they flexed I licked my lips.

“Your butler no, but your lover…yes.”

He ripped the ridiculous little pillow away and I squeaked in shock. Bending down to me he caged me between his arms and sniffed. “Christ you were out drinking. Again.”

“My life, my liver.”

His expression softened only a little. “What makes you hate yourself, Keelin?”

I slapped him. Instinct. He took it and his eyes narrowed, even darker. I expected a reprisal but he just licked his lips, like a lion facing a small, quivering animal.

“Get out.” God I hoped that was convincing.

“No.”

“I could fire you.”

“Sexual harassment? That’s beneath you.”

“And just what do you think you’re doing? What the hell do you want from me!” I shoved him but he didn’t move. It was like tilting at a boulder.

“Keep your voice down.”

“Let me get dressed.”

“No.”

“No?”

“Damn it, you won’t run from me.”

“I’m not running from you.” It sounded churlish and God help me, it was.

“Are you going to let your grandfather run your life?”

“Yes. I have no choice.”

“Damn it, Keelin. I don’t think your father or your brother would do the same for you.”

“I know they wouldn’t, James. But that doesn’t excuse it if I abandon them. They’re my family and I won’t do that!”

“What happens when your grandfather dies?”

I froze. “Don’t go down that road. It’s a very dangerous path.”

He sat down next to me and lifted my legs onto his lap, trapping me. I felt very vulnerable naked while he was clothed and he must have planned for it. Bastard.

“Talk to me, Keelin.”

“Why can’t we just keep this physical?” I asked with a soft plea.

“Is that all I’ve been to you? An easy fuck? Is that what you want?”

“Yes. No. Damn it all! Anything is dangerous. You don’t know how many lives we’re playing with here.”

“What if you didn’t have to worry about your grandfather? What then?”

We never would have met. Or we’d still be employee, employer. There was no hope. “I don’t know,” I lied.

“What if there was a way to put your grandfather in jail?”

“What?” That surprised me.

He cleared his throat. “I’ve heard rumors that your grandfather is dealing with some bad people. This deal in South America is for a lot more than what it says on paper. If you could get enough evidence to put him away, would you be free?”

My head was swimming. As a spy for Gramps he might actually know something I didn’t. “I- I guess so. Not that he’d leave any evidence. The man is too smart.”

“He trusts Sean, your assistant told me so. Your assistant is a spy, did you know that?”

“Yes.” No use pretending. But if James was a spy and had no proof, there was no guarantee Sean would know any more.

“You can use him,” James suggested. ”He’s a purchased man, make a better offer.”

“What the hell are you saying?”

“There has to be a plan for the future, Keelin. If you keep going in this vein your grandfather will make sure that his protégé controls you from beyond the grave. Do you want to drink yourself to death before you give Hyde an heir and abandon Bobby and Ralph?”

“Jesus, James. Jesus! You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Shh!” He was holding me now and my face was in his shoulder. Nothing made sense and yet there was a tiny hope of escape. Could it really work?