Indecent Encounter: The Silverhaus Affair (3 page)

“
T
he new maid
will stop by in a few minutes, sir,” Jamison said.

“Sir?” I asked. “You’re still not speaking to me?”

“I refreshed your drink. Will that be all, Mr. Alex?” Jamison sniffed.

“Come on, Jamison. I thought you’d like the help this summer.” The sound of ice cubes tinkled against the fine crystal of my glass. It was absorbed by the walls' wooden panels, designed to give the room a warm coziness despite the large size. I raised a Scotch on the rocks to my lips in the hopes that the stiff drink would help me relax.

I’d been around women. Assloads of women. Hell, there was no shortage of eager, large-breasted and long-legged females waiting in the wings for me. Yet, somehow, the prospect of meeting Miss Carerra had me a little unsettled. I’d chosen her specifically because she hadn't been like the other women on the website. No scantily clad pictures, or blatantly revealing bikini shots on her profile, and she didn’t yammer on about jet-setting, drinking Cristal, or dancing at the clubs all night. I'd combed over her profile with an eagle eye, but she hadn't once mention a burgeoning acting career or the desire to marry rich so she could dedicate her life to volunteer work and saving the hungry little children of the world.

No. Chelsea Carerra’s profile seemed to miss the point of the website, and that intrigued me.

“You met her. What’s she like?” I asked Jamison. I swiveled in my desk chair, and peered over the rim of my monogrammed rocks glass.

“American,” he said.

I laughed. “So am I, but that never seemed to bother you before. Is she the gold-digging, morally-loose nightmare you’d imagined?”

Jamison pursed his lips and tidied up the chic whiskey decanter and tumbler set on the side shelf that doubled as a bar for my office. “Apologies, Mr. Alex, but I have dinner to prepare.”

“Fine, Jamison. You’re dismissed. I’ll meet the maid alone. Gee, I hope she doesn’t throw herself at me first thing. How will I ever control the urge to shower her with money if you’re not here,” I teased.

Jamison opened his mouth to retort, but was interrupted by a soft knock on the door. He answered it and stood with his hand on the doorknob as Miss Carerra entered.

She stepped over the threshold and her ocean blue eyes met mine. My jaw dropped to the floor, or so I imagined, and I forgot to introduce myself. Jamison cleared his throat and said, “Miss Carerra, this is Mr. Alex Silverhaus.”

“Please, call me Chelsea,” she said with a timid smile.

With a little devil on one shoulder, I raked her body with my eyes. Then something strange happened. It felt like a zing of electricity shot through me, igniting every single cell. She tucked a wayward strand of soft black hair behind one ear, exposing her smooth pale neck. That just made it worse. I imagined my lips tasting her skin while I breathed in her scent, and ran my fingers through that hair. I felt a tug between my legs. My father had been right. I’d been concentrating on work for way too long.

I rushed a gulp of Scotch to my lips, not knowing what else to do to give myself a moment to regroup. I dismissed Jamison, and from the corner of my eye, I caught his worried look, but I couldn’t tear my eyes from Chelsea.

The white uniform shirt with the Silverhaus family crest emblazoned across her chest was much too small for her. The fabric strained, and the top buttons had to be left open, leaving the lapels to lay out wide, enticing me with more of the same smooth skin I’d lusted for a moment earlier. To make matters worse, as she came closer I saw the round swell of her breasts.

I stood and she approached with her hand outstretched. As we shook hands I assessed that she was small, about five-foot-four. She had a slender frame, but there was something delicious about the way she filled that too tight of a uniform top that sent my juices flowing and I wondered what it would be like to press her body against mine.

Her eyes flicked to our hands, still touching, and I quickly let go, not realizing I'd been holding the handshake. I smiled and tried to casually shove my hand in my pocket, but my jeans made it too tight. Instead, I crossed my arms and tucked my hands under my biceps. Best to keep my hands where they can’t get me in trouble. After all, I’d just met the poor girl.

“I’m sorry, I’m confused,” Chelsea said with a rosy blush. “You don’t look anything like your profile picture.”

I laughed. “Disappointed?”

Her deep blue eyes swept over me, and I felt the tug again. I wanted those eyes all over my body and those tantalizing lips…they were pale petals, the bottom one ripening as she chewed it nervously.
Damn
. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear she was teasing me with it. How long would it take for my happy cock to find its way into that mouth?
Shit
. I needed to stop that train of thought right now.

“No. It’s just I was expecting someone else,” she said.

“Someone older? I didn’t want to use my own photograph, because the website has a…well…a certain reputation,” I said.

Chelsea’s eyes widened. “I’m here to work, Mr. Alex. My intention is to earn my salary and nothing more.”

She straightened and threw back her shoulders, standing tall. Her head only reached my chest, and she had to lift her chin to look me in the eyes.

My hands, having a mind of their own, sprang out from the safety of their crossed position and landed on her shoulders. “Don’t worry. There are no hidden agendas here, Chelsea. As Jamison always points out, we Americans can be very direct.”

My hands trailed down to the bare skin of her arms, and she felt like silk. I lingered all the way to her delicate hands and wondered again what it would be like to pull her close and kiss those sweet petal lips.

Chelsea tugged her hands free and stepped back so she didn’t have to crane her neck as high. “Thank you for this opportunity, Mr. Alex. I plan to work hard and earn my pay.”

Her words broke through the haze of my fantasy, and I asked, “You have big plans for the money?”

She frowned then said, “This job will help secure my future, ah, career.”

Chelsea’s blue eyes were clouded, and I instantly cooled. She wasn't the typical overt nymph featured on the website, however, her last remark set my suspicions on alert. I figured she knew my name was associated with the movie industry when she found me on the website. Career, eh? She was probably here on a roundabout path into Hollywood. My father wondered why I didn’t date much anymore. Well, this was the exact reason why. I didn’t like the feeling of being used.

“Nice to meet you, Miss Carerra. I hope you enjoy your summer job,” I said and dismissed her.

Too bad, I thought as I watched her leave. She was the first woman to pique my interest in a long time.

A
s I knelt
over the swimming pool filter basket, I looked up and caught a glimpse of Jamison’s face in the kitchen window. The stuffy, British butler almost looked happy. I shifted my attention back to the leaf basket and realized I had no choice but to use my bare hands to remove the decaying dead leaves and…oh, god…was that a dead frog in there? It was hard to tell for sure. Maybe it was just my mind playing tricks on me, but there was something green and slimy mixed with lots of brownish black gunk. I guessed Jamison didn’t do pool duty. No wonder he looked so happy.

I closed my eyes and tried to get up the nerve to plunge my hand into the blockage. After a morning of scrubbing toilets and floors, I was happy to be outside. The summer sun beat on the back of my uniform shirt and it felt wonderful. It helped to avert the sting of the rough cement that grated against my bare knees as I worked. I hoped the fresh air would quell my gag-reflex as I dug into the slime-filled catch.

This was just one of the disgusting duties Jamison had for me on his list. It appeared he was determined to test my resolve. So I took a deep breath and dunked my hand in. As I pulled out the first fistful of greenish slime, I held my breath long enough to see stars.

“Rainbow Roads,” I gasped as I flung the mass of decomposed leaves into a bucket and my thoughts turned to Karl. I’d get my brother into that program if I had to spend the entire three months up to my elbow in slime.

I missed my brother. He had Zach coming to visit him while I was away. I knew that because Zach had been sending me emails
every day
. He’d even found an apartment near the program’s campus. He said we could live there together, and assured me it was an easy commute to Portland State University. Each email ended with a flurry of romantic sentiments I couldn’t bear to read. He just didn't get it. I didn't feel the same way, and I doubted I ever would.

I shook my head as I worked. Besides, romance was the last thing on my mind, had been the last thing for a while. I’d had a short fling once with a fellow Economics major, but between classes, work, and Karl, the relationship had fizzled. That had been a year ago and I hadn't bothered since. Zach thought that meant we were supposed to be together, but I didn't even want to think about love right now. How can a person be open to love when they had so many other responsibilities?

Like digging out slime. I looked down at the open hole looming in front of me and plunged my hand back in one last time.

I stifled a gag and tried to think about something else, like why had Alex Silverhaus used a false profile picture? It was kind of a dirty move, but as much as I wanted to be righteously angry at his deception I could understand why he did it. If he’d used his real photograph, the posting would have generated millions of responses. As it was, I wondered how he chose me out of the fifty-three other prospects.

Alex was six-foot-four and built like a Norse god, all golden hair that swept across his face with a few longer locks that fell in his eyes. I’d had to stifle the insane urge to lean forward and feel how smooth his hair was between my fingers. His white dress shirt hadn't concealed the tight flex of his muscles and his powerful shoulders. When I imagined what he’d look like shirtless, it got harder to breath. Alex’s square jaw was clean-shaven and even from across the room I'd caught the cedar and cinnamon scent of his aftershave. It was intoxicating. The effect he’d had on me concerned me. We’d barely exchanged a few pleasant words of introduction, and I was already a hot mess.

I remembered the weight of his large hands as they'd rested on my shoulders. A wave of heat had rushed through my body and settled deep in my belly. The intense gaze that had gone with it had made my stomach twist. As his hands had trailed down my arms, the molten feeling had slipped lower, and just the memory was enough to make me wet again. I wanted to rub against that hard body, feel the contour of his muscles with my taut nipples. Reach around him and feel the solid slope of his back down to the slope of his tight ass. I’d pull his hips against mine and feel…

I shook my head. I could almost hear Clara’s laughter. If she could see Mr. Alex Silverhaus, no doubt she’d already have eight plans for me to seduce him. The situation was perfect for an easy affair, and would be a good way to thwart Zach’s affections. The more I thought about Alex, the more my pulse picked up. It could happen. Alone in a big mansion, except for one surly butler. I could easily come across Alex in one of the many rooms and simply shut the door behind me. My mind filled with naughty thoughts, and I didn’t even care.

After all, I reasoned, that was the reputation of the website. Other women responded to postings fully expecting to get paid while having hot sex with their employers. Why couldn’t I? Something about Holland, being out of my normal surroundings, gave me the liberty to admit my desires in a way I never would've done back home.

I imagined finding Alex in his office, and what would happen next. He'd call me over to where he sat behind his desk, and then pull me into his lap. Those big hands would cup my breasts, rubbing and squeezing until my nipples were hard. Then he'd swoop down and suck them through the thin material of my uniform shirt. He'd pick me up, his strong hands gripping my ass and pressing me against his hard cock.

Dear God, I thought with a hot blush. Holland or no Holland, it’d been way too long.

I laughed at myself and got back to clearing the leaf basket. Alex Silverhaus was undeniably attractive, but I had to shove that realization aside. He was my boss, and as much as I was already fantasizing about him, I knew they were just silly, sexy daydreams. I was here to work, and Alex had made it clear that he expected that, too.

Just as I pulled another huge clump of slime from the pool basket, I saw Alex striding out of the house. He smiled brightly and waved. I reached up to wave back and forgot the handful of rotted leaves. A dark brown sludge dripped onto my white uniform shirt. I was mortified.

Worse than the stain on my shirt, however, was the fact that Alex wasn't waving at me at all. A beautiful woman with thick, white, blond hair appeared outside the pool house and Alex strode up to her, whirled her into the air before giving her a tight hug.

She was exactly the perfect woman I pictured him dating. It made much more sense than a man like him waving at a slime-covered maid. I looked down and hoped he wouldn't notice how red my face was. I was here to work, nothing more.

I
t seemed
like I ran into Chelsea everywhere, despite living in a mansion. Jamison was torturing the poor girl with a variety of menial tasks, and I found her doing things like scrubbing grout with a toothbrush and sweeping out a crawl space under the stairs I'd never even known existed.

I stood in the foyer with a smile, ogling her like some kind of perv, unable to look away as she shimmied back and forth on her hands and knees. Jamison had finally given her a work uniform that fit, and the shorter skirt was deliciously teasing as the hem swayed with her movements just enough to give my cock some ideas, but not enough to get a peek at that gorgeous round ass. She had no idea what a fine young woman down on her hands and knees with her ass in the air did to me. I could easily have grabbed a handful of that long hair and take her from behind, her tits dipping into the water on the floor and peaking hard through that white top.
Fuck
. I needed to get my libido under control.

Or jack off more often.

“Funny, I never knew that was there,” I said and Chelsea jumped. “Now I’m glad it is.”

Still on her hands and knees she turned her head to speak, but continued wiping the floor with a wet sponge. “Sorry, Mr. Alex, I didn’t know you were still home. I can work somewhere else if you prefer.”

“No, don’t mind me. I’m enjoying the view.” I said, stroking a hand across my jaw. I should've been more of a gentleman and left the poor girl to work, but then again, in the words of the famous actress Lana Turner, “A gentleman is simply a patient wolf.”

Chelsea popped up and tugged down the back of her skirt as she sat back on her heels. She threw me a shuttered look with her deep blue eyes, and went back to cleaning the last layer of dust from the crawl space. She was impossible to read. Most women I knew giggled and flirted, even when I didn't want them to. Chelsea just worked.

“If you’re home today you probably don’t want me making such a mess here.” She sat up again, and tossed the sponge into the mop bucket. “I’ll go finish airing out the upstairs closets.”

“No, don’t worry. I often work from home, and I know better than to interrupt Jamison’s plans,” I said.

She smiled at that and stood up. “A home office must be nice,” She said, a little out of breath.

I watched her delicate hands as she wiped the last bit of wetness on the front of her uniform shirt. It was more of a nervous gesture as she’d already dried them on a small white towel lying next to the bucket, but it made her ample breasts move and jiggle just enough to afford me another delightful visual.

I bit my lip to hide my smile, and tried to engage in a serious conversation so as not to give away my lustful thoughts. “It is. Much better for getting things done than the chaos of the set or the mess of the production office.”

Chelsea blinked a few times and asked, “The set?”

“Yeah,” I said, “movie sets are a bitch. Creative people tend to make for crazy workdays. I swear, they act like once they get an idea, they have to take action or else it might fly right out of their head.”

“Oh,” she said and crinkled her nose. “I thought you were a hedge fund manager or something. I didn’t know you worked in movies.”

I caught myself smiling at her adorable expression of confusion before I realized what she’d said. “Ah, yeah. I run Silver House Productions. My father is Henry James Silverhaus. Maybe you’ve heard of him?”

Chelsea blinked again and shook her head. “Sorry, no. Though I think I’ve heard of Silver House Productions. Is your logo something like a very ornate lion holding a sword?”

“Yes, a crest with a lion on a shield and a crown on top. It’s a symbol of The Netherlands also.”

“But you’re American,” she said, crinkling her adorable nose again.

“My father is originally from here, but he made his fortune in America, and I was raised there,” I explained. “You’ve seen a Silver House Production movie, right?”

“Of course. Hasn’t everybody? I used to go to them all the time,” she said and then quickly added, “but I mean, they’re great. I love them.”

Her cheeks turned a light pink, and I knew she was lying.

“Ha. No you don’t,” I said. “But that’s okay. Everyone’s entitled to an opinion. I won’t hold it against you even though you’re working for me.” I gave a little laugh, and I could see her shoulders relax. “Anyway, they make more money than films with meaning…as my father always reminds me.”

“Do you love them? The films you make?” Chelsea asked.

I scrubbed the back of my neck, struggling to find the right words. She had no idea what I did for a living until a minute ago, and now I felt like she saw right through me. Her eyes were on me, but the glow of a starlet’s ambition that I was used to seeing was absent, and I had to admit, it caught me off guard. I wasn’t used to having to work for women’s attention or to prove myself to anybody. It was disconcerting, to say the least.

“Uh…well…I spend most of my time making my father’s films,” I said with a shrug. “They’re big commercial successes.”

“So you have one of your own you want to make?”

Again, I felt as if she was looking inside me, and it made my chest ache for a reason I couldn't quite figure out.

I cleared my throat and said, “Well, yes, actually. I’m just taking over our first independent film, and I think it really has a chance to be something special.”

She smiled and nodded. “If a movie has heart, the audience will find it. Sometimes it’s through word of mouth, like on my college campus. If we go to see a really great movie that speaks to us, we talk about it, tell all our friends to go see it, and you know, it’s like a snowball rolling downhill, it builds and eventually everyone has to go see it and then, before you know it, it goes viral, and you have a huge success.”

“You know, that’s exactly how I should pitch it to my father…a long-term investment.” The gears were spinning in my mind. She was right and I was just feeling the excitement again, talking about my project when I heard my cell phone ring.

I’d been expecting a call. I fished my phone out of my pocket and saw the name on the screen. I said, “Speak of the devil.” I rolled my eyes. My father had the worst timing. I was just getting to know a little about Chelsea. “Sorry, I have to take this.”

Chelsea smiled again, and turned back to her work under the stairs. I went across the foyer and cut through the library to my office.

“Good news, Henry, I know how to make the indie film a success,” I said, and headed to my office.

“Alex, please, get your priorities straight. Have you looked over the specs for the alien series? I think the fourth script is our best bet. The climax should be a real seat-shaker,” he said.

I closed my eyes and shook my head. My father based his script opinions on whether or not the action sequences would be loud enough to shake the movie theater seats. He was old-fashioned, egotistical and stubborn as a mule. He prided himself on pulling himself up by his bootstraps and making mountains of money in a cutthroat industry, but he had no affinity with the artistic side of films. To him, it was all about the profit margin, the cha-ching he heard in his head at the thought of each ticket sale.

“Look, I was thinking, if we make the indie film a priority it’ll pay off in the long run.”

Before I could finish, he cut me off with a gruff tone. “That’s not what I called about. Your little joke with the mail-order whore paid off. All of my friends and work associates heard about it and I’ve been the butt of endless jokes. Everybody got a good laugh. Is this what having children brings?”

Henry was on the verge of ripping me a new one. He couldn’t bear that his friends might view him as over-the-hill, no longer able to get a woman on his own. I’d walked as far as my office door, each step and each of his words, bringing more tension, until my hand curled into a fist.

“And now I hear she’s still there. What on earth are you doing, Alex? Get rid of her.”

I stopped short outside the threshold of the door and clamped my teeth, gritting them to keep from snapping back at him. I relaxed my jaw and finally spoke, “For your information, I chose the only woman on the website who didn’t have ulterior motives, so Jamison put her to work. She’s cleaning out the crawl space under the front stairs right now.”

“Ridiculous. You’re letting yourself be taken in by this girl? She’s after your money or a part in a movie,” he barked.

“You’re wrong,” I threw back.

“Fine, Alex. Find out the hard way. I don’t have time for this right now.”

I opened my mouth to defend myself, but the silence of the disconnected call said it all.

Fuck
. The old bastard did it again. I wanted to throw my phone at the wall. Why did my father always have to do this? Or better yet, why did I always let him push my buttons?

I marched over to my desk chair and flopped into its soft, leather comfort. I raked a hand through my hair. I swore, my old man was going to drive me to drink. I blew out a breath and let my hand fall from my head onto the stack of movie scripts he’d been nagging me to review. I grabbed the script off the top of the pile, and rolled my chair back to settle in for some reading.

Alien movies. Yeah, like that’s what the audiences really wanted. The brain-dead young people who made up the largest demographics of moviegoers weren't into aliens anymore. He was so out of touch. It was zombies, walking dead, ghouls with rotted flesh falling from their carcasses,
that’s
what was popular now, not freaking aliens. And yet, the more I thought about the moviegoers, the more I began to think maybe Chelsea was right. Not all young people were artistically defunct. Maybe audiences were tired of meaningless fluff movies, and they wanted something with a message, something with a philosophy about life that they could talk about after the movie, not just treat a movie like a ride at an amusement park.

I thumbed through the pages, intending to read it, but my father’s words still echoed in my head. What bothered me more than his dismissal of my passion project, the indie film, was his condemnation of Chelsea. That had been totally uncalled for. He hadn’t met her. He didn’t know anything about her.
Give the poor girl a break, for Christ’s sake
.

Without reading a single word, I closed the script and tossed it on the desk. Leaning back, I closed my eyes, and steepled my fingers under my chin in thought.

Chelsea came into my mind in a flash. That soft black hair, that lithe body, the round softness I glimpsed through the gap in her shirt.

Oh, Jesus.

Knowing I wouldn’t be able to focus until I cleared my head, I decided to go for a swim. The pool house was a quick walk across the courtyard from my office, and I slipped in the back door less than two minutes later.

The small building consisted of an airy sun porch, a changing room, and a large bathroom centered around an open shower with a rain shower head. I was just ducking into the bathroom to find the goggles I’d left there when I saw her.

A wave of white shampoo suds glided down her long, wet, hair. I followed the bubbles as they slipped down her back and onto her round ass. Chelsea lifted her arms to rinse her hair again, and the slight turn revealed one perfect breast, the nipple dark and tight under the showering water.

The thought of raking my teeth over that hard nub and pinching it between my fingers made my cock jerk in response. I wanted to run my fingers over her porcelain skin and push them into her tight slit. I'd bet she was wet from more than the shower.

Her waist was tiny, and curved out to her smooth round hips, just visible over the wall of the shower. I could almost feel my arms slipping around her, palming a handful of ass and pulling her onto my hard cock. I inched forward to see more before I stopped myself.

She was supposed to be a harmless joke on my father. I'd intended to meet her, pay her, and send her home. Once she was here, I'd thought she would be an easy fling, a quick summer affair, or at least a one-time stress relief, but seeing Chelsea that first time had changed everything.

Maybe I needed to make my intentions known. My blood roared at the idea of consummating whatever connection we had right now. I could easily slip into the shower and fuck that tight pussy. Except, I knew that if I did it, it'd all be over, and I didn't want that. I wanted more. I wanted to run into her around the house. I wanted to be surprised by what she said. I wanted those eyes on mine as we finally wrapped our bodies around each other and came together. Drawing out the sexual tension between us would make it even more deliciously hot, I decided.

I made it back out to the sun porch where I had to sit down and catch my breath. I felt like I’d been kicked in the chest. She was gorgeous, but I didn’t understand the effect Chelsea had on me. It wasn't like anything I'd experienced before. All I knew was, joke or no joke, I wanted her to stay.