Queen (Mistress & Master of Restraint) (127 page)

My face blazes in embarrassment so fierce that it prickles. I hide it behind my palms and try to will it away.

“Okay, no Kent,” sounds muffled from beneath my hands.

“That’
s a good girl,” he praises me.

My hands drop. “I thought you said me being a good girl was bad. You called me a monster,” I say sullenly and my lip quivers.

“Yeah, it’s bad for someone like Kent.” His eyes never leave my mouth and it creates a confusing buzz in my belly.

“Who’s it good for?” I ask in seriousness. If I can’t play with Kent, who?

His eyes leave my mouth and dart to my eyes. He groans in frustration and runs his fingers through his reddish-brown curls.

“Yeah- um, I’m not answering that one. I’ve got to go to the post office. Yeah, the post office is where I need to be. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” He grabs his keys from the hoo
k and runs for the front door.

“Well, men flee from you, Willow,” I murmur as I jump to the floor. “You sure
do know how to clear a room.”

I quickly check the appropriate pricing for Kent’s dolls and tag them and place them on display. I mark Aquaman as a free with purchase. I manage to clean up the store and check my auctions
fifty times and Mr. Kline still hasn’t returned. I even managed to sell a few items and told a woman to come back in an hour with her consignment items.

“He's a one stop shop, makes my cherry pop
… He's a sweet talkin' sugar coated candyman… A sweet talkin' sugar coated candyman… ohh yeah…” I sing with Christina and bop my way around the shop.

“Hmm… is that what the good girl dreams about at night, the candym
an?” Mr. Kline purrs smoothly.

“Holy fuck,” I yelp and cover my face. The prickling from earlier returns to a full-fledged burn. I doubt my skin will ever return to its flesh tone. I’ll be forever red with embarrassment.

“Update and then let’s play some
Perfect Dark
.” He continues to laugh at me. I’m mortified.

“I… um- priced Kent’s action figures. I made two sales. A lady will be back shortly. She has some stuff to sell. One auction is bombing, two are on the retail mark, and one is
quadruple the price we paid.”

“And you were doing a perfect rendition of candy man…” He hasn’t stopped laughing even when I was giving him an update. His cheeks are rosy from the cold and snow or maybe from my ridiculous karaoke act. His eyes are
twinkling as he loads the N64.

One good thing about working here is that we don’t work- we play constantly. Old game systems are our favorite.
Perfect Dark
is a first-person shooter. Basically we run around shooting at each other. I always customize my Joanna Dark and he will make his just like mine. Last time I was Elvis the alien, short with a huge head for sniping. When he created the same avatar I finally asked him why, because you’re a fool to use Elvis. His response was that it is only fair if we are the same character- so much for individualism. Today I am Joanna Dark, again, wearing a
Datadyne
catsuit.

“Have you ever noticed that the CMP150 icon looks like the word calypso? I know it doesn’t, but that’s what I see and that’s what I call them.” I say this to distract him. I want him to think that is my weapon. My avatar sneaks behind him and sticks a proximity mine on the wall next to his Joanna. As I make mine run away, I giggle when I hear the explosion.

“Oh, that was cold. You’re no longer a good girl; we’re back to calling you monster. Watch out, Monster, I know that trick now.” He chuckles good-naturedly.

I focus on having me and my minions track down his and him. The front door bell dings ending our fun.  I snap the ancient console television set off and shut down the N64.

We get into the groove we’ve had for the past five months. I take care of customers and he pops out if they need to sell something. He doesn’t trust me with that type of transactions yet. My auctions won’t close until tomorrow at mid-day. The door dings again just as I’m finished closing out the cash register.

A woman walks into the store. That is the only way to describe her- woman. My itty-bitty-titties invert in shame. She has to be six-feet tall. Maybe not, she has on spiky heels. I mean spiky- they are metal rods. Her tight jeans encase shapely thighs that I don’t have a chance in hell of getting mine to look like no matter what exercises I do. My jaw pops open when I see her perfect breasts peeking out of her tight sweater. Envy- that is what this feeling is. My eyes finally roll up to her face. Pale skin is showcased by red-glossed, full lips, eyes as black as midnight lined in
kohl, and perfect inky, black hair- a young Elvira. If her name is actually Elvira I think I will faint. I want to grow up to be her.

Big fingers snap my lower jaw up to meet my upper jaw. I almost bite my tongue. I may have drooled a little bit.

“Isis,” Mr. Kline says in greeting. Yeah, Isis is even better than Elvira. I manage not to faint. Even her name is perfect.

I watch in shock as she kisses Mr. Kline on the lips. My jaw falls open again. Mr. Kline looks different next to Isis. He doesn’t seem like a geek; he looks like a man- a manly man that Isis likes very much, thank you, judging by her red-tip
ped talons flexing on his ass.

Yes, I will agree- I am naïve. I’ve seen kissing. I’ve even been kissed. I’ve watch porn with my friends. I’ve even watched my friends make out. But never have I seen this kind of intensity. That buzz in my belly turns into a screeching alarm. An alarm that feels warm and pleasurable. I look at my shoes and blush. I try to ignore the smacking noise.

“That wasn’t appropriate, Isis,” he chastises her in a voice I’ve never heard. I have to look up to make sure Mr. Kline didn’t poof and was replaced with a sex god.

The look he gives me creates a heavy weight in my belly along with that warm buzz. I flush deeper and his eyes widen. I look to the floor knowing he caught me. I’m in trouble. He’s going to kick my ass so bad. Thinking naughty thoughts about Kent got me into big trouble, thinking naughty thoughts about Mr. Kline will get me skinned alive.

“Augustus, won’t you introduce me to your little friend?” Isis says friend weird, like it means something else. My boss shakes his head no. He’s not going to introduce me… that’s not nice.
“This is Rob’s baby sister, Willow. She isn’t for you to toy with,” he warns. Her smile is brilliant and scary. I back up a step and yank my coat from underneath the counter.

“Rob speaks highly of you, my dear,” she purrs. “I hear today is your birthday,” her voice is lulling.
The spider said to the fly.

“No!” Mr. Kline hisses. I wonder if he smacks her with rolled up paper, too.

“Rob said she’s just like him,” she says in annoyance to Mr. Kline, but her eyes don’t leave my face.

“No! Willow, get your stuff. I’ll drive you hom
e. Isis can wait for me here.”

“Sir, you stay with your guest. I can walk. It’s not far.” I start for the f
ront of the store.

“Willow, don’t say that word again,” he warns me in a panic. Isis’ laugh is sharp and wounding.

“Ah- I see now. I’m not allowed to play because she’s already your toy.” The third person today looks at me in that peculiar manner. What the hell does that look mean?

Mr. Kline pulls my coat up my arms roughly and starts buttoning it in a hurry. I smack his hands away and say
I’m not a baby; I can dress myself
underneath my breath. He ignores me and buttons the last button.

He pushes me from the store. I run to his truck because he looks like he will forcibly move me if I don’t get away from Isis. I let him lift me in and buckle my seatbelt. Seconds later we are making th
e half mile drive to my house.

“I could have walked home faster than it took for you to start your truck and drive me,” I say in annoyance.

“It’s cold out. Birthday girls should get chauffer service,” he says as he pulls up to the curb. He smiles at me in the dim of the streetlights. I unbuckle my belt and my door is wrenched open. He turns me so that we are face-to-face.

“Isis is another type of person you need to avoid. She’s worse than Kent Mason. I’d explain, but I don’t want you to know why.” He bites his lip in indecision and it draws my attention. I want to smooth the indents from his teeth with my tongue. I shake my head rapidly at the thought. Never has my mind wandered to Mr. Kline in a sexual way. Green eyes track across my face and widen when they read my thoughts. I hide my face against his chest in embarrassment
as he murmurs that it’s okay.

He gives me a bear-hug. My arms barely go around his back and my knees don’t part far enough to let him hug me fully. I feel safe and warm in his embrace. I bury my face in his neck and inhale. I groan in pleasure at his scent.

“Please be careful tonight when you go out with your friends. Be a good girl,” he whispers in my ear and I shiver. He pretends it was the cold and tightens his hold on me for a second longer.

“Here,” he says pulling a box from his coat. I take it and smile. It’s a small box with a polka-dot bow on top. I wiggle the top off the box and peer inside. Shiny silver catches my eye. Mr. Kline hooks the necklace around my neck. It’s tight like a choker. I finger
the small charm in the center.

“Thank you,” I whisper into the dark. My voice is raw with emotions I can’t name. Those emotions are echoed in his expression.

“I’ll see you in the morning. Ya better hurry up and get inside. It looks like everyone is waiting on you.” We both look at the long line of cars.  I groan and he laughs.

He pulls me from the truck and sets me on my feet. I wave goodbye when I get to the porch. I wait until he drives away
before opening the front door.

I finger the charm on my necklace and swear under my breath. Yeah, having a good girl crush on a boy is a bad idea… having a monster crush on your boss is even worse. Fuck!

~Would you like more stories from the Playroom~

Contact Erica Chilson:
[email protected]

Erotic romance fans, would you like something slightly edgier? Try the
Mistress & Master of Restraint series. The dark erotic romance series begins with Restraint.

About the Author

Erica Chilson spends most of her time inside her own imagination, whether awake or asleep. Her love of reading and writing for her book review blog, Wicked Reads, inspired her to begin writing again. Not one that enjoys the norm, her favorite things to read, write, and dream about are on the edge, claws and fangs, and wickedly entertaining things…

www.ericachilson.wordpress.com

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