Through the one-way mirror I watch, waiting for the party to start. I was invited her by her boss to see how well my wife works. The show is about to begin.
When my wife got the job as his Personal Assistant she threw herself into it wholeheartedly. She was gone from sunrise to sunset, dedicated to servicing his every need. I’ll admit I was curious what she did in a day and why she was so dedicated, I never imagined how far she’d go to keep him happy.
She’s here as the help. Wrapped up with a bow and ready to do whatever it takes to keep these three men happy. So much of her is on display and I watch as everything changes. As the meal finishes and the men turn to feast on dessert.
Her boss wanted to get to know me. Her boss wanted me to see how good she is. He invited me here to this party and told me to hide, to surprise her. Now I’m the one who is getting the surprise.
I’ve never seen her like this. These men have been unleashed on my wife. They’re uncompromising in their needs, pushing through her boundaries while she’s begging for more.
She goes through each one as they make her confess the truth. She tells them what she needs, what she wants, what she craves. She gives them every inch of herself and it’s all happening right here in front of me.
While I sit in the darkness watching. While I stare, wide-eyed and unable to look away.
Excerpt
They were talking and I could hear them, but I didn’t understand what they were saying. Talking about business, talking about the market, talking about trends and futures that were beyond me.
Besides which, my mind was focused on watching as they sat at the table, wondering where my Cassie was and how I was supposed to know her from this.
When Dante withdrew a small box from his pocket and pressed the little black button on it, a bell rang and I got my answer.
Cassie walked out of a door that was just as hidden like the one that I was behind. She was carrying plates of soup, balancing them and bringing them to the table.
And I don’t know what shocked me more at the sight of her.
Cassie’s job demanded a lot of things, but this level of service wasn’t one of them. She was meant to maintain his calendar and run his life, setting appointments and making calls to arrange details of travel. Assistants took notes during meetings. They called intermediaries to set things up. They even, sometimes, made sure the dry cleaning was done and probably got coffee as well.
What they didn’t do was wait on their bosses during a party.
But if that had been a concern of mine, it was vastly overshadowed by what she wore while she was doing it.
The outfit was black. It was black from head to toe. The only part of it that wasn’t black was her bare skin which was so pale that it seemed almost white in contrast.
It hinted at the idea of a maid’s outfit, though I didn’t know of any maids who would be able to work in something like that.
Tall heels that almost seemed too tall for her, that I recognized from the last time she’d come home from an event like this. Stockings that I thought I recognized as well, emphasizing her legs just as much as they always did.
But those had always been accompanied by a dress that was elegant and draped over her body, hinting at the curves that were pure sex beneath them.
Instead now she wore a skirt that was puffed up with a crinoline, one that sat so high on her legs that you could see the tops of her stockings and flashes of skin when she walked.
A corset hugged her middle, ending just below her breasts and tightening her already tight waist to force her into a rigid stricture of posture with her shoulders back and her breasts thrust out. Her breasts contained in a billow of silk and lace, cleavage practically pouring out the top of them as it was cut low to give so much sight to them but keep everything contained and demure at the same time.
Her hair was up in a bun, but not a simple one. Strands floated around her face and framed it, highlighting her line of a jaw and her proud cheekbones. Her eyes open and full and aware as she carefully moved through the room, servicing the men and seeing to their needs. Her nose a button turned up and proud. Her lips pursed in concentration.
I should have probably noticed the blush on her cheeks, wondering if it was shame and humiliation or something else that gave that to her.
Instead I noticed the collar on her neck, a choker of lack that could have been mistaken for a necklace but for the fact that the thickness of the bulge beneath the surface material spoke of a strap of thick leather. That and the fact that there was an unmistakable ring in the front of it, the type that you would hitch a lead to.
I watched as my wife teetered around the table setting the soup in front of the men. They didn’t address her. They didn’t even look at her. She set the bowls down and moved to the corner of the room, standing and watching as they ate.
And all I had were questions.
Sitting forward in my uncomfortable chair I watched my wife intently and in all the time over the first course, she didn’t move a muscle. She might as well have been a statue, so still and so passive.
I’d never seen her like this.