* * *

My final week as a free woman passes far too quickly, and before I know it, Liz and I are leaving for the spa. We’re to be cut, plucked, waxed, and any other medieval form of torture they can come up with. She’s excited, and I’m nervous. I’ve never been waxed or plucked, and I’m guessing there are more enjoyable ways to spend an afternoon. As we enter the swanky spa, we’re greeted by identically dressed women waiting for us.

Liz tells the women that it’s my first time at the spa, but before she can finish introducing me, one of the women cuts her off politely. “Mr. Pennington has already called and given instructions for Ms. Monroe.”

As Liz looks to me with wonder at what these words may mean, we are quickly separated as they go to work on us. Pedicure first—love it. Manicure second—love it again. So far so good, but then the waxing room awaits.

As I lie on the table, I start fearing the worst. The wax torturer tells me that the first strip will be the worst, but by strip five, I’m no less ready to punch her in the face than I was after strip one, and I decide she’s most definitely a liar. Eventually the truth of her words can be felt as each strip turns to a dull throb rather than a burn. Every ounce of flesh from my ankles to my waist, and including my underarms, is sensitive and sore by the time she finishes. But as she starts rubbing aloe lotion into my skin, it starts to soothe, and my tension starts to fade.

I finish in the salon, and after a trim and a hasty lesson on applying makeup, I’m finally set free. My cosmetologist sends me away with a full stock of necessary cosmetics, again simple and demure, just as Derek ordered, and as I meet up with Liz again in the changing room, she asks me how it was. Aside from the waxing, it was pleasant, but as I change and she catches a glimpse of my waxed bikini region, she suddenly gasps.

Her shocked expression has me suddenly terrified that my vagina is missing, until she explains. “He wants you to keep your pubic hair? Like I’ve said before, girlfriend, that man does not want you looking anything like a prostitute.” Her eyebrows shoot up as she makes this last comment, with a warm smile flashing across her radiant face.

We exit to the waiting limo and are back at Trimbles within ten minutes. As we exit the elevator to our floor, we meet Derek in the hall on his way somewhere. When he asks how the spa was, Liz, unable to control her mouth as usual, throws him a comment as she turns, leaving us in the hall. “Great! But, uh, they may have forgotten that Ash has pubic hair.”

Her comment was meant to call out Derek, and judging by the tight set of his jaw and flared nostrils, she did just that. We stand by the elevator bank looking at one another while Liz makes her escape, and it is many long seconds later that I excuse myself and turn away from him. But just as soon as I’ve said my good-bye, I feel his hand on my elbow, and he pulls me to his room, apparently his earlier destination forgotten. Once in his room, he stands back from me and demands that I strip. I do slowly as he watches. His eyes are burning, and he looks more animal than man at the moment.

As I drop my underwear to the floor, his eyes are glued to my newly sculpted and groomed sex. Little has changed really. My pubic hair has been trimmed short but left ultimately intact. My bikini line has been taken in a bit, but overall, I look very much the same in comparison to the other shorn sheep walking around this place. But Derek seems to see far more as he stares at me openly. When he kneels in front of me, I almost choke, and when he lifts one foot to rest on his knee so he can get a closer look, I almost faint. His mouth and nose move to my suddenly wet and warm apex, but they stop short of making contact. For a moment I think he’s going to kiss me there, but instead he inhales deeply and runs his fingers over the smooth skin of my newly expanded bikini line. I’m trembling at his light touch, and when his nose and lips brush ever so gently over my remaining short pubic hair, I moan and my knees shake. I want to collapse to the floor in front of him, but he’s not finished with me yet.

And as he stands swiftly in front me, he whispers harshly in my ear, “God, you smell so fucking incredible.”

He grabs my hand and leads me quickly to the dining room table. He sits me on the edge as he stands between my legs, and the moment he’s freed his cock from his pants, he’s pushing me back on the table and entering me with a loud groan. He fucks me on the table while he stands over me. He watches my eyes for a time before he pays an inordinate amount of attention to my pubic region. He touches my pubic hair as he strokes his cock in and out of me. He parts my lips with his thumbs and watches as his penetration takes over my entry, and as he lifts my feet and pushes my legs wide, his penetration sinks so deep I feel like exploding from the inside out. Before long, he returns my feet to the edge of the table and starts to gently rub my clitoris as he continues his thrusting. I come as he strokes my tight nub, and he follows moments later, spilling his seed within my body.

We’re both left panting while he hovers over me, watching me intently. As I start to gather my clothes once again, he hastily fixes his own clothes and leads me back out to the hallway where he returns to the elevators and his earlier destination, but not before running his thumb gently over my chin and adding one final comment. “Impressive.” He’s mocking me with a crooked smile, and I can’t help but return the smile with furiously blushing cheeks.

I retreat to my room and collapse to the bed. At the moment, I’m satisfied and filled with him. I love this feeling. I wish it could always be just him. However much I may miss his mouth, he makes up for it in so many other ways, intent, it would seem, in reassuring me that he’s still there, although he has to withhold that intimate part from me.

But as I lie replete, thinking of him, the next couple of days creep into my mind. The time has passed far too quickly. I’m not ready to consider what will happen to me the night after next, but I have no choice, and try as I might to push away my fears, it is no use. Derek will sell me to a man I don’t know, and I will certainly hate every moment of my time with this unknown man. I’m as frightened of what Derek will inevitably think of me as I am about the very act of being with another man. It will no doubt be just as awful and terrifying as my dinner with Mr. Grayson, and while Derek won’t be forced to watch this time, he will be making the arrangements and agreements on explicitly what I will and will not do with this man. I have only tonight and tomorrow night with Derek before another man forever taints my body.

Derek comes to me that night and slowly and gently takes my body. His mouth is nearly touching mine when we come together, and as we rest together in my bathtub afterward, he pulls my back into his body, and he holds me. He’s lit a couple of candles on the bathroom vanity, and that is the only light in the warm bathroom. It is as intimate as we can be without sharing our mouths with one another, and it is what I need.

Chapter 17

The next night, Derek takes me to dinner, and were it not the last night before my new career begins, I might have been able to enjoy myself. As it is, we both sit looking at one another. He seems as anxious as I am, and while I appreciate the time away from Trimbles far more than he likely realizes, it is bittersweet. I want this time with him, but it is impossible not to think of the next night. He takes me to a movie after dinner, and as we move hand in hand through the crowd of people at the theater, we look like any other couple out on the town. His hand never leaves mine, and as we take our seats and the lights dim, his hand moves to my leg and settles on the inside of my thigh, stroking with gentle fingers as my body warms to his touch.

Neither of us seems to be paying much attention to what is happening on the screen, and yet this time together is incredible, intense, and so very needed. We leave hand in hand again, walking to the waiting limo outside. As the limo makes its way slowly through the Friday night traffic, Derek’s hand enfolds mine, and he pulls me into his arms. Our driver, the same man that has shuttled us here and there for six weeks now, watches us with a slight smile on his face. His smile is tinged in sadness at our closeness, as he must understand how truly impossible our situation is. I want Derek more on this night than any other I’ve been with him. I always crave his closeness, but on this night, I more than crave it. I’m desperate for it. He knows this, and as we exit the elevator, he wastes no time pulling me to his room.

He leans down to my ear as we enter, and his words still me. “I’ve wanted to make love to you all night, and I have no intention of letting you go before I have to.”

Make love? Is that what we do together? I’m stunned at his words and what they mean. Truth be told, I think I’ve always made love to him, but for him to acknowledge that our time together is something more than mere fucking calms my soul, and I want him all the more. While he keeps his mouth from me, he is gentle and caring. We “make love” many times throughout the night, and he never leaves my side, nor does he allow me to leave. I ask if I should, hesitant to overstay my welcome, but every time I ask, his arm stops me as he pulls me to his body.

When the morning sun rises against the skyline, he leaves his apartment. He returns a short while later with two cups of coffee, and I can’t help but think that couldn’t have gone over well in the common room. On his heel, Liz enters as well, and I suddenly feel very exposed and nervous. I know it’s only Liz, but the sight of her in our intimate space shocks me. Derek has asked her to come, and that means he’s given over to the fact that she’ll see us, the way we really are outside of the sight of others. It sends a warmth through my soul, but makes me nervous all the same. She walks with Derek across the room, and sits in the chair by the bed as I pull on Derek’s discarded shirt from the night before. I sit up as Derek takes his place beside me and hands me my cup of coffee, but rather than moving away from me, he rests a gentle and reassuring hand on my thigh as I sip from my coffee. Liz regards us both warmly. She is obviously content to see us together, and as I see her warm smile, I relax instantly, and my nervousness dissolves at her apparent ease with us.