MASTERED: (The Novel) (8 page)

Not that Luke hadn't been crystal
clear regarding his not wanting children. He had. Unfortunately, Missy was
allergic to oral contraceptives and Luke was irresponsible; two small details
that usually slipped his usually inebriated mind. Most frequently, this
occurred after his favorite watering holes closed. He would come home
slobbering drunk and horny. There was no reasoning with him.

Thankfully, he lost all interest
in her when she 'accidentally' became pregnant. His only lingering attraction
to Missy revolved solely around her culinary skills. Luke had no qualms
whatsoever about sitting down shirtless at the dinner table with marks from
other women on his back.

She left him shortly after
Christopher was born, and, of course, blamed herself. While she believed she
loved him when they married; she couldn't say for certain if she ever truly
had. She suspected that she married him merely to prove to herself and to the
world that she was 'normal'.

Once, with her heart pounding,
Missy had offered to share one of her fantasies with her new husband. She
invited him to reciprocate. She fervently hoped that he might find her 'uniqueness'
of interest, at least.

Instead, his response shattered
her. Luke told her he didn't have fantasies. Not only that, he wasn't the least
bit interested in hers. He served only to reinforce what she long suspected;
she was
far
from normal.

Submissive...

The taboo topic was never raised
again. The newlyweds engaged in silent, passionless sex. They did not make
love. The only sounds were Luke's guttural grunts as he sawed into her with his
eyes squeezed shut. His position of choice was missionary. He never inquired as
to hers.

Not surprising, then, that he
never excited Missy sexually. Not even at the apex of his short-lived prime.
Instead, she masturbated regularly and successfully to the same wicked
fantasies of Dominance and submission that had always plagued her. When she
finally had enough of his abuse and left, he used the occasion as just another
excuse to get drunk and mean
.
Drunker and meaner
.
Nothing had changed to this day.

Christopher didn't look up from
the computer when Missy tapped lightly and poked her head in. Best that he not
see the naked guilt which constituted her expression, in any case. Yes, she
wished she'd provided him an actual 'father' instead of simply a sperm donor.
But Luke had given her Christopher, and for that she would be forever grateful.

Missy blew him a quick kiss, said
good morning and good-bye in the same breath, and turned to leave. Head down,
he asked, “How was your date last night, mom?” Before she could open her mouth;
the cab beep-beeped its arrival. Rescued from a simple question to which the
answer would be far more complex, she laughed self-consciously. To cover her
consternation she scolded him playfully, teasing that he was worse than a dog
with a bone.

 
At
the sound of the now-blaring horn, Christopher at last looked up from the
computer. Missy adeptly avoided the quizzical glance he shot her way. With a
nervous smile, she withdrew from the room, closing the door behind her.

Chapter
22

Grabbing purse and sweater, Missy
practically sprinted from the house. She skidded to an unexpected halt on the
front porch, confused. A look of puzzlement clouded her features, quickly
replaced with delighted comprehension. Making her way around to the driver's
side of the taxi, she leaned towards the opened window to explain the change of
plan.

Grateful to see an unfamiliar
face behind the wheel, she dug a five dollar bill out of her purse. Proffering
it, she apologized, thanking him kindly for his trouble. She saw the annoyance
in his eyes slowly dissipate, and he smiled back despite the wasted trip. While
he accepted the outstretched bill, he apologized for doing so.

Turning, she took a few tentative
steps in the direction of her car. Magically, there it sat, smack in the middle
of the driveway.
It hadn't sparkled
like that since it was new.
Well,
new to her
. Missy's heart melted and unexpected tears blurred her vision.

Thankfully, it was no longer
necessary to navigate the logistics of retrieving her vehicle. The task had
weighed arduous on her mind. Her heart palpitated irregularly just at the
thought of seeing James. There was only one word for the effect he has on her
mind and body.

Submissive...

Shaking her head in disbelief,
Missy climbed into the driver's seat. Immediately enveloped by a sweet floral
aroma, she scanned the newly-detailed interior for the keys. No luck. They
weren't in the ignition or anywhere else that she could see. What she did
discover, however, caused her heart to cease its palpitations in her chest, and
begin to thump wildly in her ears.

Resting on the passenger seat was
a single, long-stemmed red rose, a small box, and a note. Picking up the rose,
she accidentally pricked her thumb on a thorn. Mesmerized as a droplet of blood
sprang forth, she inhaled from the fragrant bloom of the identical hue.

Licking at the blood to stem the
flow, Missy opened the box. She was unaware of the involuntary gasp that escaped
her. Instead of the keys she expected to find, she discovered a beautiful
silver choker with a tiny circlet pendant. The filament was so delicate that it
appeared as hardly more than a shimmer against her throat. The equally elegant
pendant rested perfectly within the notch where her collar bones met.

She couldn't stop touching it or
looking at herself in the rear-view mirror. She paid no mind to the late hour or
the repercussions she would suffer as a result. Her wide grin was as brilliant as
that of the iridescent chain. She managed to drag her eyes away from it, but
only to read the enclosed note from her Master.

Master?
Struck
dumb by the word she chose to describe him, Missy focused wholly on the
missive. Her hand trembled as she reached for it.
“Good morning, little one. I trust you slept well, if not long. I
appreciate your entrusting me with your address and phone number, not to
mention your luscious mind and body. Given time, you shall come to realize that
I am worthy of such trust. And given trust, you will come to surrender
considerably more to me. In fact you shall surrender heart, mind, body and
soul. In turn, I shall never forsake such precious gifts. The keys are under
your seat, my lovely - which I imagine is still burning with memories of me.”

It was signed simply “James.”
Missy quite literally panted like a bitch in heat as she read, then re-read his
words. Luckily, her choice of underwear was made of
much
sturdier stuff than the flimsy ones of yesterday. Placing the
now blood smeared note aside; she located the keys, started the engine, and
backed out of the driveway.

Sighing resignedly, it became
quickly apparent that even these panties offered precious little protection
against his onslaught.

Master…

Chapter
23

 
Pulling
into an open space in the employee parking area of
Boutique
Ebony&Ivory
, Missy turned
off the engine. Drawing several deep breaths, she attempted to quell her
apprehension. She was well over an hour late. Although she had texted the
extent of her inexcusable tardiness, she exceeded even that estimation. She did
not relish facing Teresa's displeasure, however justified.

She was scrambling from the
Infinity when she remembered to remove James's chain from around her neck. She did
so reluctantly, already feeling naked without it. Nonetheless, she was in
buckets of trouble already.

It was strict policy that
employees not wear their own jewelry to work. This statute precluded any
awkward requests from admiring customers who might wish to purchase an
identical piece.
“Not that any jewelry
she owned would inspire the admiration of the shop's uber-wealthy clientele,”
she thought wryly.

They were, however, encouraged to
display pieces from the shops own exclusive collections. There were cases
brimming with sparkling jewels ranging from brooches and bracelets to cocktail
rings and tiaras. Pieces were signed out at the beginning of a shift and back
in at the conclusion. And,
always
under the watchful eye of Teresa.

 
While undeniably a highlight for the employee,
this brilliant strategy was designed with the clientele – and the bottom line, in
mind. It provided an up-close-and-personal view of some spectacular baubles
that might otherwise have gone unnoticed. It was a win-win marketing ploy which
proved highly profitable.

Sheepishly, Missy hurried through
the breathtaking double doors of the boutique's entryway. They opened
majestically before her, as though admitting a princess to the king's chambers.
She never failed to be struck by the sheer extravagance of these enormous
cut-glass doors. Perilously, they captivated the attention of anyone driving
down the narrow street.
As was their function, of course.

The left was engraved with a
sensual, cursive 'E', the right with the matching 'I'. Both sparkled as if
anointed with fairy dust. They were meticulously polished thrice daily; usually
by her. Missy kept her head lowered and headed straight for the staff room. She
thanked the powers-that-be that today was Wednesday, one of the quieter days of
the week.

As she stashed her purse and
sweater, she glanced at the schedule to see who was working. Relief washed over
her when she saw that it was Stephanie and only Stephanie. A quick check in the
mirror and within seconds, Missy was on the floor searching out Teresa.
Best to get this over with sooner rather than later
.
Fortunately, the shop was
devoid of customers.

Adding to her remorse, she
located Teresa behind the massive front desk. She was up to her knees in a task
that was no doubt intended for Missy. An enormous delivery of summer inventory
arrived that morning. It was priority one to get it separated, counted, hung,
steamed, sized, priced – and out on the floor. The first rule of retail is that
nothing sells sitting in a box.

“Teresa, I can't tell you how
sorry I am,” she entreated. “There's no excuse for it, and I won't insult your
intelligence by making one. I deserve any disciplinary action you see fit.”

Chapter
24

Drowning in a sea of rumpled Vera
Wang frocks, Teresa turned to face her. Frustration and disappointment were
unmistakable on her face. If it was possible, Missy felt worse still. She very
much respected her boss, and over the years they'd developed a warm and caring
relationship.

Teresa usually treated her more
like a daughter than an employee. She was very concerned with her raising a son
alone. She often chided Missy for not being more receptive to the ardent
advances of men who would make her life easier. Much like Christopher, one of
Teresa's favorite lines was,
“After all,
darling, none of us are getting any younger, now are we?”

Missy sighed. Understandably, Teresa
wasn't feeling overly maternal at the moment. “We'll discuss this in my
office.” She barely ground out the words before turning her back on Missy and
beckoning to Stephanie; the only other employee in the shop.

She left Stephanie with instructions
to continue where she left off and to call if she required assistance. She then
turned on her heel, marched rigidly to her office, swung open the door - and
stepped aside. There was barely enough room for Missy to squeeze by.

Teresa not only closed the office
door behind them; she locked it. Missy knew things were about to go very badly.
“
You
are making my job very
difficult, Missy Miss, and
this
time - you better have a damned good explanation!”

 
She barely paused for breath, her annoyance
unrestrained. “Your habit of getting to work late every day has become a bit of
a company joke. Everyone knows that you more than make up for it in sales and
overtime.
But
this?”

Teresa and her brother Michael
inherited the boutique from their mother. The entrepreneurial matriarch had
suffered a massive coronary just four months previous to Missy being hired.
Has
it really been over seven years?

Michael enjoyed a thriving career
as a stock broker and cared not one whit for women's fashion.
Nor women, for that matter
.
The only trends that interested him were financial in nature. It fell to his
grieving sister to ensure that their mother's passion survived her passing.

Teresa admitted only to being
'somewhere' in her forties. She was shockingly tall and shockingly thin. Her
crowning glory was a mass of shockingly overly-processed platinum blonde hair.
As it turned out, she was also blessed with a shockingly good eye for style and
a razor-sharp mind for business. Her ideas were innovative and fresh. The
boutique not only survived, it flourished.