Wicked While He Watches -The Billionaire's Secret (Claire and the Billionaire) (4 page)

Chapter
4

Mr. Fawcett spoke, “Very good show. You can go now, boys.”
And he walked out of a door behind his chair and shut it with a thud. Coco
turned back to Stone and Heath, but they were gone already. She was stunned by
the abrupt end and the fast departure of Heath and Stone. Her frantic eyes
searched the room for her shoes and her clothes. She felt as naked as she was,
fully nude with only a mask to hide behind in the big empty room.

“Put those clothes back on and come in here,” Mr.
Fawcett commanded her over the loud speaker. Coco gathered up the scattered
clothes. Her blouse and underwear were torn to ribbons so she had no choice but
to wear only the pink skirt and the white linen jacket. She buttoned it up as
best she could, but all her cleavage showed. Could she really have any modesty
in front of him now anyway? She left the stockings, but picked up her
stilettos, slipped them on her feet and buckled the straps around her ankles.
With trepidation and shock over what had just taken place, she went into the
room where Mr. Fawcett sat behind the mirror.

“Take off the mask and put it there,” he commanded
motioning to the table with his chin. She did. Her face was blank. She refused
to show him any more emotion.

“Here is your script. I need you to be a good
actress now. You’ve put on one hell of a show so far tonight. I know you won’t
disappoint,” he said eyeing her in a peculiar way.

What now? Coco thought. She read what was on the
paper then looked back up at the billionaire. Her eyes narrowed on him. She
would gladly play this part, even though she was surprised again at Mr.
Fawcett’s proclivities.

She shot him an angry glare and stomped a stiletto
clad foot.

“Nicky, what are you doing here?” she said acting
the part he wanted.

“Nothing Mrs. Macy,” he replied as if a boy. Now
Coco understood the outfit he made her
wear
. They were
the kind of clothes that this neighbor of his or whoever she was must have worn
when he was caught peeping.

“Have you been spying on me?” she questioned. Her
tone was firm but sexy.

“No,” he said meekly. And Coco could see his cock
that was out of his pants, rising.

“You’ve been naughty, haven’t you? You’ve been a bad
boy,” Coco asked firmly. She didn’t mind this bit. She’d been dying to yell at
him.

“Yes. I’ve been real bad,” he replied unable to hide
his excitement.

“You know what I do to bad boys, Nicky?” she put the
question out there.

“No, Mrs. Macy,” he replied softly.

“I give them a spanking,” she answered. Coco glanced
down further in her script with wide eyes. “Take down your pants, Nicky, and
bend over. “

 He complied right away. Coco stood there
looking at this man who was so powerful, rich enough to save her husband, and
got ready to spank him. There was a paddle on the table. She took it in her
hand, gripping the wooden handle tightly.  His white ass was there in
front of her, his pants pushed down to his ankles onto his Italian leather
loafers. Coco was ready. She drew her hand back to get a good swing in and
smack; the paddle cracked down on his butt hard. She tried to ignore it but
this turned her on.  She never expected it to.

And it was working for Mr. Fawcett, too. He was
touching himself, rubbing faster and harder with each smack to his butt.

“You’re bad, Nicky.
So bad.”
She swatted him, taking out all her aggression, until his butt was bright red,
and his cock was ready to finish up. Coco felt the pull of desire.  She
watched his hand moving, then the quiver of his whole body as he released
groaning.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Macy. I won’t do it again,” he said
with ragged breath. This was her cue to stop the paddling; his “safe word” as
indicated in the script.  Coco gave him one more
swat
anyway.

“See that you don’t. I wouldn’t be so nice next
time.” Coco’s eyes were cold even if she was turned on. There was nothing else
written on the paper.

“Yes, Ma’am,” he said. Then he stood up, pulled his
pants up, and sat back down. Coco shifted in her shoes, put the paper and the
paddle down on the table, and waited uncomfortably for what was next.

After a few minutes, he regained his composure.

“Put the mask back on,” he demanded. Coco nodded and
averted her eyes from the same steady cocky stare that reclaimed his face as if
what had just transpired never happened.

“Be here tomorrow night at one,” he told her. She
nodded confirming that she would come.

The door from the corridor opened and the fat man
entered and motioned for her to leave. He led her down the corridor to the room
with her clothes.

“Knock when you’re ready to go,” the man said in a
bored tone. This must be a routine thing around there, she realized. It was
shocking to know that this sort of thing went on, and she wondered what else
was to come.

When the door was shut behind her she tore off the
jacket, the skirt, and the red mask, and threw
  them
on the bench. Coco was gone. She’d leave her there with the mask. Claire had her
black shell on in an instant and rapped on the door for the fat man to show her
the way out. Her shoes clacked over the floor as she walked rapidly through the
hidden hallways.

Trying to suppress all that
happened,
she packaged it in her memory, and detached herself from it. She had to so she
could bear what she’d done. She held in her feelings, not only of the violation
and the choice she had in the matter, but of the worse realization that she had
enjoyed some of it, a lot of it. 

That was enough of that. She refused to think this
way. It was what she had to do for Daniel, and her guilt was not important.
That was something she would just have to live with.

She forced her psyche to change the memory. It
wasn’t her. It was Coco Blue. She had just seen it all, like a movie. Like Mr.
Fawcett had.

Outside her car was waiting, running with the keys
in it. She strode to the driver’s side door, got in, and drove off with her
chin up and her jaw square.   She could do this. No matter what it
took.
  She resolved not to be broken, not to be jaded
by this. He was going to get her husband back for her. She would do whatever he
demanded.

Mr. Fawcett’s words replayed in her head: “All you
have to do is satisfy my needs until you earn the 800,000 grand. If you don’t,
then the deal is broken. “

Claire drove into her driveway and parked. Something
caught her eye as she started to step out of the car. A metal briefcase was on
the backseat. She got out, opened the door and popped the briefcase open. She
laid the cover back. Inside was cash. She picked it up and examined it.
$350,000.
Was that what he felt this night was worth?

She snapped the case shut feeling exhausted and more
than a little daunted. She had $450,000 more to earn and no way of knowing what
else Mr. Fawcett had in store for her.

Claire showered, climbed into bed wearing Daniels’s
shirt, and, as she laid there in her lonely bed, stared at the darkened ceiling
until finally she fell asleep, and dreamt he was there beside her.

The
End

 
Copyright
2012.
Mercedes Eva Nordstrom

Cover photo of the masked woman by Igor Borodin.
Canstockphoto