Authors: Anne O'Connell
Tags: #Fiction, #Erotica
Midnight Fantasy Press
Copyright 2011 by Anne O’Connell
Dear Reader, I tend to write my Doms and Dommes as real people with real emotions. They do feel love for and have a psychological attraction to their subs. They can also be friendly, playful, and warm. I know some readers don't like this and have complained about this with some of my previous novellas such as
. I just can't write about emotionless, loveless sexual relationships. I suppose there are other writers out there who can and do. I'm just not one of them. I also realize that in real life people may not fall in love with one another, or come to trust one another, as quickly as they may in my stories. Please remember my stories are works of fiction. Thank you for reading.
Paul fumbled around with her bra, poking her hard in the back. He pulled at the catch in futility. "Damn thing won't come off!"
Amy groaned, undoing the clasp herself. Sliding it off, she resumed kissing his neck. She felt his swollen cock on her thigh.
He immediately lifted her short black skirt. Slipping his hand down her panties he squeezed her ass. "Get these off."
That did it, she was annoyed. This was the fourth time in the past two weeks he just wanted to get her naked and stick it in without foreplay, let alone variety in positions or places. Good old missionary position in the bedroom. She pushed him away and glanced at the clock. A rush of panic ran through her. "You know what? I have to go. I have an interview in an hour."
"Babe, don't leave me like this. It will only take five minutes, I promise."
She let out a laugh before she could stop herself. Evidently he thought the usual eight minutes was a treat? She started wondering again why she was dating him. They rarely did anything fun anymore. They didn’t talk. Now, all their dates led to sex – and it wasn’t even good sex. Of course he was only the second guy she’d ever been with, so she wasn’t really sure what good sex was, but it had to be better than this. In her imagination it was.
"Paul," she protested. "I really have to go. Maybe later tonight? Just take a cold shower or something."
She straightened herself up, put her bra and blouse back on, put the black heels back on and headed out the door with her suit jacket and bag in hand. Paul was safe, reliable and predictable. All the things her parents wanted in a potential son-in-law. He was also a law student and got good grades. He'd have a real money-making career once he passed the bar exams. With a wry smile she wondered,
what good is money if you’re bad in bed?
It was her sixth interview this week. So far the only offer she’d gotten was from some sleazy guy who told her he’d pay her seven bucks an hour plus tips to serve drinks at a local strip club. Of course once he found out she refused to go topless he retracted the offer. Now, at twenty-one, she was stuck living in her parents’ basement, going to community college part time, and trying to find a job. The bus pulled up to sixth and Marquis Avenue and she got off, carefully looking around the unfamiliar street. She had filled out the application online and was honestly surprised when they called her for an interview.
Lifting her chin, she began walking down the street looking for the address. It took her a few minutes but finally she saw the sign that said,
By the Book
. With a deep breath she straightened her suit, worried quickly if she was overdressed or if her skirt was too short or her heels too high, then put on her most confident smile and headed toward the door. The outside of the shop was neat and tidy and the shop windows were clean. The inside window displays stood filled with the week’s most popular books. Opening the door she was surprised to find herself greeted by the scent of fresh coffee and that new book smell. The store itself was neat and clean inside, too. The floors were spotless and the shelves well kept. A few customers wandered through the stacks and an older man was sitting in a chair off to the side of the stacks reading a history book about World War II.
If she could just get this job it would help her out tremendously. Maybe even put her that much closer to getting out of her parents’ basement. Besides, she loved to read and she’d worked retail before. She walked up to the counter. There were two men there. The blond with the goatee stood leaning on the counter watching the customers and another with dark brown shoulder length hair sat typing something at a computer. They both looked to be in their thirties and both were attractive (in her opinion at least), well-built, and dressed very casually in jeans and t-shirts. A sinking feeling started in her stomach. This couldn’t seriously be happening. She quickly decided she was
overdressed. Trying to ignore the feeling of defeat she smiled, realizing she already had the blond’s attention.
“Umm, hi, I’m Amy Myers. I’m here for the interview with Brad?” She was pretty sure she sounded like a dumb ass.
The man behind the counter looked her up and down and smiled. “Well, hello Amy. Brad will be with you in just a minute.” He nodded toward the guy at the computer. “Brad, Amy’s here.”
Amy smiled and clutched her shoulder bag. Great, the blond was a smart ass.
The man behind the computer finished what he was doing and turned his attention to the front counter. “Amy, come back here and have a seat.”
The first man opened the swinging partition and let her behind the counter. She carefully made her way around several boxes and sat in the chair across from him. It wasn’t very private. If they wanted to, the customers could listen in on her interview. Of course it was this or taking off her top and serving drinks to lonely men who liked ogling women’s breasts.
The man reached across the desk and shook her hand. “I’m Brad, and that’s Eric. We own
By the Book
. So I see on your application that you have retail experience. Care to elaborate?”
She gave him a nervous smile. “I worked at a small clothing boutique when I was in high school. I ran the register, stocked, and did general store cleanup. Then my first two years of college I worked at the grocery store mostly stocking and doing inventory, but I’d sometimes run a register to help out. After that I had a few office jobs.”
He nodded. “Do you like to read?”
She realized Eric was listening in, too. “I love to read. Of course I haven’t had as much time as I’d like to lately with school and all. Most everything I read is a college textbook these days.”
“What’s your school schedule like?” He looked at the papers sitting in front of him and started making notes.
She glanced at Eric, then back to Brad. “I have classes between eight and eleven in the morning Monday through Thursday.”
“What year are you?”
“I’ll have an associate degree by summer.”
“In?” Brad lifted an eyebrow.
“Business.” As she said it she realized how lame it sounded.
“Good. Willing to work weekends?” He made another note and glanced up at her.
She probably wasn’t answering fast enough. “Yes.”
“What was the last novel you read?”
The question completely caught her off guard. “Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows,” she said honestly. Hopefully it didn’t sound too childish, but a lot of adults read
, didn’t they?
Much to her surprise he didn’t laugh at her or give her a raised eyebrow like she expected. “Good books, they sell well. You did well on the basic skills test.” He looked over at Eric and raised an eyebrow.
Eric had his hands crossed over his chest. He shrugged.
Brad leaned back in the chair. “So if you saw someone stealing a book, what would you do?”
“Call the police and file a report?” She could feel herself cringing so she forcibly tried to relax her expression.
A low chuckle escaped from Eric. He smiled but didn’t say anything.
“What would you do if a customer asked for a book we didn’t carry?” Brad continued, keeping his own expression calm and unaffected.
“Umm, order it for them if I could?” she said hopefully.
This time a wide grin spread across his face. “How much can you lift?”
“I’m sorry?” she wasn’t sure she’d heard him right.
“Cases of books are heavy. How much can you lift?” he asked leaning forward.
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe twenty-five pounds or something? Maybe even fifty?”
He rubbed his hands together. “An irate customer comes in and demands his money back on a book. What do you do?”
She bit her lip. “Well first I’d ask what was wrong. I mean, if the customer just didn’t like the book then he can’t really expect a return. I’ve bought and read books I didn’t like. But if it’s damaged or something I would probably exchange it or give him a refund or whatever the store policy is.”
He pursed his lips and regarded her for a moment. “A customer comes in and tells you the clerk who waited on him earlier was rude and he demands to speak to a manager.”
Was that a question
? She paused waiting to see if he said anything else. He just looked at her expectantly. “I would get a manager or tell him to come back when a manager was here.”
“A man comes in with a gun, points it at you, and demands you give him all the money in the register,” Brad said.
She caught Eric smile out of the corner of her eye. Swallowing hard she answered, “I’d give him the money, activate the silent alarm, umm, and I think that’s it.”
“What are your wage requirements?”
She froze. Really she just wanted a steady paycheck, hopefully more than minimum wage. “At least nine an hour,” she said, realizing she was cringing again.
“Any questions?” This time, Brad lifted an eyebrow.
With both of them staring at her she was intimidated. She shook her head. “No.”
The men exchanged glances again. Brad wrote something else on the paper in front of him then looked at the floor next to her with a frown. “Pick that piece of paper up and throw it in the trash.”
Amy immediately grabbed the piece of trash and tossed it in the wastepaper basket Eric offered her.
“Thank you,” Brad said. He stood. “We have a few more people to interview but if we decide you’re the one, we’ll call you.”
Nausea overwhelmed her. This couldn’t have gone worse. She forced a smile, “Thank you.” She shook both their hands and ducked out of the shop as quickly as she could. Once she was out of the store and out of earshot she groaned. Could she have sounded any more spineless?
She walked across and down the street to the bus stop, flopping down on the bunch with a defeated sigh. This sucked. There was no way she was getting
job. Going back over the answers to his questions she could have kicked herself. There were so many ways she could have answered differently. Why did employers have to ask those kinds of questions anyway? Again, the nausea gripped her. Swallowing was the only thing that kept her from losing her breakfast all over the sidewalk. Just then the bus pulled up. With a sigh of relief, she got on.
She decided not to go back to Paul's. She was just too depressed.
All she wanted to do was go home, crawl under a blanket and feel sorry for herself.