A Betty's Pledge: Volume One (12 page)

“Just talking, Di,” he said in light humor. “No need to unleash the she-devil.”

“Don’t make me have to, Wilson,” Diane answered. “I will not go through this again
with you.”

Again?

“No need for the third degree,
Mom
,” Isaac sneered, making Diane scoff at his jest. He turned to me for a brief moment.
I saw something in his eyes shift. It was so quick that I thought I could have been
imagining it. But for one brief second, I thought I saw . . . remorse in his expression
as he looked at me. “Betty,” he said like an old southern gentleman saying good-bye
to the woman he was courting.

I didn’t know what to say, so I remained silent. Isaac turned to leave, pausing for
a second to give Diane a tiny peck on her cheek. Her eyes followed him out as he left,
her expression pensive with a hint of contempt.

“I’ll expect your request in the morning,” Diane called after him, and I heard a soft
laugh from his direction.

I made my way to leave but was stopped by the vicious look Diane gave me as her head
whipped back in my direction.

“You know these rules are here for a reason, Madeline,” she said with a sharp tone.

“We didn’t fuck, Diane,” I said with an attitude of my own. Who the fuck was she to
tell me what I could or couldn’t do, I mean really?

“Oh, I know you didn’t,” she said with a slight smirk. “If you had, you wouldn’t be
able to walk for a month.”

She studied me for a moment, taking in my appearance, I surmised. Finally after a
moment or two, she laughed. “I think you’ll fit in just fine around here, Betty.”

The Rules and Regulations

~ Madeline Cain ~

After the night at the Grant Mansion, I had learned two very important things about
myself. The first was that innately, I was a very sexual person. Perhaps it had been
hidden inside me all along and just needed the proper environment to cultivate, but
I felt like I was discovering new things about myself as the night went on, and I
liked what I’d learned.

Or perhaps it was just the sexual desire in the atmosphere that brought out that side
of me. Like they say, when in Rome . . .

But I thought that theory was pretty much shot when I got home to find that my pulse
was still racing, my legs still weak, and my panties ruined in a pool of lust and
desire left behind by Mr. Sex-On-Legs.

God, he was amazing. I had never come so hard and fast in my life. That fact brought
so much hope and potential that I couldn’t wipe the shit-eating grin off my face.
The way he touched me, how he made my body curve beneath him, undulate to his demands,
was short of epiphany inducing. In the thrall of it, the force of my body’s reaction
to him was so strong that I was almost afraid I was going to go catatonic. My toes
curled, my back arched, and my thighs had quivered as I clamped down on his fingers
like a vise.

I’d never felt anything so overwhelming before, but it was like I’d discovered something
that I almost craved now to a psychopathic level. Isaac Wilson seemed to be the one
thing that did it for me, but then, as I thought about it, that wasn’t exactly true.

Which brought me to the second thing I learned about myself: I was very sexually confused.
I thought every person I’d been introduced to that night had piqued my interest to
at least some degree, except for Brad. And even though Keith had the looks of a
Playgirl
model, the whole tongue thing had been a turn-off. So I guess I could lump him in
the same category. Everyone else had been fair game.

I stood in front of my bathroom mirror, staring at my reflection as the steam from
the shower behind me started to fog the glass. My sailor dress was lying in a heap
on the floor, the matching shoes discarded by the door when I first arrived home.
In all my naked glory, I thought about my skewed motivations for getting involved
with the Grants.

I’d done a lot of contemplating, weighing the pros and cons, prior to placing my application.
After much deliberation, I’d made a deal with myself. If the program changed the person
I’d become, then I’d be done. The night had been a little overwhelming, looking back
on it. However, I resolved to remain open-minded but also true to who I was, despite
others thinking my modesty was something to look down upon.

Yes, I was excited and anxious to start my internship, but could the program actually
change my personality? Could sex and experimentation actually change someone’s character?
Could I become one of those women I hated? Could my priorities be changed, more directed
into superficial pleasures rather than my worldly responsibilities?

Maybe I asked myself too fucking many damn questions . . .

But, honestly, if I was becoming one of those horny, overzealous women who only formulated
their entire being to achieve what they wanted just because I was given permission
to be so, then I didn’t know how I felt about being a part of this.

Taking in my flushed skin, my rigid posture, and the excitement in my eyes reflecting
back at me, I saw something different in myself that made me kind of smile. I looked . . .
happy? No, that wasn’t the right word. I seemed to be . . . alive. Elated. Like I’d
actually started to have that thrill in life that had been lacking in my day to day.
Did I feel different inside? No, but I looked it.

“Maybe it’s the fact that some sexy as hell mobster gave you the best orgasm of your
life and your body’s just yearning for more,” my reflection chimed in again, and I
couldn’t help the internal eye-roll at my incessant need to point out the obvious.
But still, I couldn’t help but notice the way my face lit up when that big ‘O’ was
mentioned. The color rose high in my cheeks and a sly, sexy smile curved my lips.
It was as if I had morphed into something new. Not anything completely changed, just
another version of me. Like a woman proud of her sexuality and not ashamed to admit
it shining through my stiff Mady exterior.

I liked it.

I liked my inner sex kitten coming out to mingle, and the prospect that she could
only add to my personality, not threaten who I was, made her even more appealing.

Here kitty, kitty . . .

I decided right then that I could take the Grants’ training and use it to build a
better, more fulfilled me. I’d use what I learned to guide me, help me find what I
truly needed, what I really wanted out of life. Tomorrow would be a new day, and I’d
go into it knowing what to expect.

****~~****

The next morning I felt refreshed and ready to start my day. I decided to go for a
run, both to fill my body with endorphins and to keep the figure I currently had.
It was apparent that the Grants didn’t admit people who didn’t take care of themselves,
and if I was considered among their ranks I didn’t want to be found wanting when the
nakedness commenced.

I ran my average five-mile trek around the neighborhood park, and then headed home
for a nice lunch and long shower. It was around twelve thirty when I started getting
ready to head to the mansion for my appointment with Diane, my mind cleared of last
night’s contemplations.

Now for the challenge—what to wear.

I wanted to be myself and not give in to the whole suggestive clothing vibe. If I
learned anything last night, it was that there was a time and a place to dress like
a ho-bag, and apparently at costume parties for sex clubs and while making a porn
flick, both qualified. I was certain that during my internship I’d be exposed to other
such useful moments, especially if Carson held true to his lesson on the finer points
of showin’ your biz to the world while semi-clothed, but I wasn’t going to go in there
displaying anything that made me feel uncomfortable. I wasn’t a fucking prude, despite
what my first impression must have portrayed to the Grants. I had my own brand of
sex appeal, and I was going in there with my guns blazing, so to speak.

Deciding to wear my empire-waisted dress with matching peep-toe shoes, I felt good.
Like myself. The length of the dress hit me right below the knee, but was cut in such
a way that the fabric molded to my form, making it look like a second skin. At the
waistline, I put on a silver chunky belt that accented the deep plum color of the
cloth. It also served as somewhat of a focal point, bringing the attention toward
my chest where the scoop neckline revealed the rounded swells of my breasts, emphasized
by a good push-up bra from Victoria’s Secret. I wore my hair in thick curls, pulled
back and pinned on one side to leave only a sliver of my slender neck, one of my best
features. The only downside was that the dress was so tight to my figure that going
commando was my only option to avoid unseemly panty lines.

The look was a signature of mine—it was subtle sexuality—leaving the men wanting more
rather than feasting on the whole package up front. I’d always said there was something
about mystery and intrigue that seemed to be lacking in this generation of women.
My colleagues seemed to like to flaunt their crown jewels rather than accentuate them.
But I was of the faith that modesty and sexuality played hand in hand.

Maybe modesty wasn’t the right word. Perhaps the qualities that made a lady had been
grossly skewed, making women my age feel they needed to be on display to feel desired,
at least that was the feeling I’d come away with in my twenty-five years on Earth.
Even the attire the Grants chose for us to wear fell in with that theory.

Diane was waiting for me on the steps of the foyer when I arrived at the mansion promptly
at two o’clock. She looked amazing in a tight pencil skirt with a red silk blouse.
Her top was low-cut, leaving an ample amount of her cleavage bare. Her hair was like
golden silk, falling in large curls around the middle of her back. Her lips were plump
and shaded in the same color as her shirt. She was gorgeous, and I couldn’t help but
smile at her as I walked up the front steps.

“I’m glad you’re here, Mady,” Diane said as I followed her through the entryway.

“Why wouldn’t I be here?”

“I was afraid we might have run you off last night,” she said with a small laugh.

“On the contrary, I found last night to be rather . . . informative,” I said, forcing
my eyes back to the general vicinity of her head while she led me up the staircase
toward the dormitory level. I had to admit to myself that I’d found Diane rather appealing,
a feeling that wasn’t necessarily unfamiliar to me having found women attractive before.
This time was different, however. This time I had the opportunity to act on that attraction. 

“Funny,” Diane said in a small voice, slowing down so she could lean in to whisper
closer to me. “I thought you would have said you found it to be . . . orgasmic.”

I swallowed hard at her words. “Well, I—”

“Don’t worry, Mady.” Diane laughed. “You’re not the first pledge to bend the rules
the first night. And your secret is safe with me.”

I let out a sigh as Diane started walking again, leading me down a different area
of the mansion than the small amount I’d already seen. There were rooms on either
side of the hallway, all numbered like college dorm rooms.

“These are the member chambers,” Diane said, pointing at the different doors like
Vanna White. “The couples usually share a room, but the Betties and Consorts have
their own quarters with private bathrooms. Each is luxurious and quite large. Yours
is number sixteen, right next to mine and Nate’s.”

She pulled out a large silver key from a small pocket in her skirt and handed it to
me. “Go ahead. Take a look.”

With an excited, gleeful smile, I took the key from her and unlocked my new room.
Once inside, I stood just in the doorway, dumbfounded.

“We tried to decorate it to the Betty’s tastes,” Diane said. “Taking into account
their personalities based on your interviews and profile information.”

“Yeah,” I replied numbly as I took in the master bedroom. The walls were painted in
a subtle taupe, with hints of clover green and burnt purple mixed into the decor.
The style of the furniture was modern classic with a feminine edge, perfectly reflecting
my personality. The satin drapes and throws gave a hint of sexiness, while the cream-colored
accent pillow in the shape of a rose in the middle of my new king-sized bed added
a certain flair.

Along the back wall was a large antique bookshelf stocked full with different kinds
of books. There was a small matching desk with a lamp light and a new laptop, perfect
for working on my next manuscript. It sat by a large bay window that overlooked the
hills surrounding the property, and I could imagine myself sitting there looking over
the landscape for inspiration.

“You like?” Diane said, taking in my slack-jawed appearance with an indulgent smile.

“Um, it’s awesome.”

Diane giggled. “Come here,” she said, taking my hand and leading me toward the bathroom.
“I want to show you something.”

She led me through an arched doorway that opened up into a huge bathroom. The floors
were a cream marble. The stone ran along the countertops and around the large Jacuzzi
tub that was the focal point of the room. The cabinets were white with antiqued weathering.
Oil-rubbed bronze fixtures on the sink, doors, and bathtub gave it the final touch.
In the back of the bathroom was another large archway, leading to the massive walk-in
closet that was filled with rows of clothes covered in plastic garment bags.