Club Wicked 2: My Wicked Nanny (26 page)

Wheeling her luggage into the room, she closed the door
behind her and looked around. The flat was only two rooms, a main room that was
her living room/bedroom/kitchen, and a bathroom off to the right. The glass
double doors leading to her balcony let plenty of sunshine into the room,
making the polished oak floors gleam. The kitchenette was modern and updated,
but miniscule. A full-size bed sat against the right wall, while to her left a
couch and coffee table took up most of the room.

Though this apartment was small by American standards, for
Paris this was a luxurious flat. She wondered if Jesse had lied about how much
this place cost. The amount she was paying in rent wasn’t near enough to cover
the cost of staying here. Heck, when she’d been looking for a place to stay on
her own, she’d looked in this section of the city but couldn’t find anything
for under four thousand euros a month.

As she walked farther into the room, she traced her fingers
over the beautiful roses and walked to the double doors, peeking out into the
busy street below. Her balcony had pretty blue and purple flowers hanging from
the planter on the railing, and she grinned in pure delight.

She was here, in Paris. Like for real.

A knock at the door startled her, and she yelled out, “Come
in.”

The door opened, and a handsome man with dark hair and a
neatly trimmed mustache entered, followed by Claudette holding a bottle of wine
and a tray of what looked like cheese. He gave Anya an open and friendly smile
before crossing the room and kissing her on either cheek. “Anya, welcome to
Paris. Jesse has told me so much about you.”’

Anya smiled up at him. “Thanks for renting this place to me.
It is amazing.”

Claudette moved into the kitchen and pulled a bottle opener
out of one of the drawers near the sink. “I know it’s barely past breakfast,
but I thought you might like a glass of wine and a nibble after your long
flight. Do you like chardonnay?”

They settled down in her small sitting area, laughing and
talking about the city and Paul’s visits to the United States. Anya was on her
third glass of wine when Claudette leaned forward and held her hand out toward
Anya’s throat. “May I?”

For a moment Anya didn’t know what she meant, then nodded.
“Sure.”

Claudette lifted the dangling crystal and let out a soft
whistle. “It is exquisite.”

“Thank you. My Ma—my boyfriend gave it to me.” She swallowed
hard, suddenly missing Jesse something fierce. This would be so much better if
he was sitting next to her, no doubt charming the pants off Claudette and Paul.
While Anya had experienced homesickness before, the cold and hollow feeling in
her chest was more like the superplague version of being homesick. She didn’t
just miss her family and the States; she missed the man who held the other half
of her heart.

Anya looked away and tried to wipe a tear that had managed
to escape without the other two noticing. Great, get a couple of glasses of
wine in her, and she turned into a weepy mess.

Claudette smiled while Paul gave her an odd look. “He has
good taste. Is he as handsome as he is generous?”

Anya wasn’t quite sure what to make of that, or if her
drink-befuddled mind had even translated the other woman’s words properly. “He
is… Wait, I have some pictures of him on my phone.”

She moved closer to Paul and Claudette, then began to show
them images of Jesse. By the time she reached the last one, a picture she had
taken of Jesse in his leathers with his shirt off, getting ready to ravish her,
she was barely able to hold back a full-on breakdown.

Claudette made a low sound of approval. “Oh my. He certainly
is deliciously male. If the men in the States look like that, I may have to
book a trip myself.”

Paul reached out and patted Anya’s shoulder. “Now, now. No
tears. While I’d be crying myself to sleep if I had that waiting back at home
for me, I know your Mas—your boyfriend wouldn’t approve of you being sad.”

Scrunching down her brow, Anya looked closer at Paul. “Thank
you.” She tried to figure out how to ask him something without outing him in
front of Claudette. Fingering her collar, she looked into Paul’s eyes. “He
takes very good care of me.”

Claudette looked down at the watch on her wrist. “Shit. Time
has gotten away from me. I’m afraid I must return to my shop. Anya, if you’re
not busy tonight, I’d love to take you out to dinner and show you around Paris
after you’ve had a chance to rest.”

They all stood, and Anya nodded. “That would be very much
appreciated.”

Claudette left first with a promise to meet up with Anya
down at her flower shop later. Paul waited until the other woman had left and
turned back to Anya.

“I don’t know if Jesse mentioned it, but I’m in the BDSM
lifestyle as well.”

Leaning against her kitchen counter to keep from swaying
after her overindulgence in wine, Anya stared at him. “No, he didn’t.”

“If you ever want to go to Wicked’s sister club,
Misericorde, please let me know. It would be my honor to take you as my guest.”

Anya crossed her arms. “Thank you, but I have a Master.”

Laughing, Paul shook his head. “You misunderstand. I’m a
submissive as well. I’d be much more likely to be hitting on your handsome
Master than you. Jesse is friends with one of the Doms I like to play with at
Misericorde. ”

It took her a second to process that, and when she did, a
hot flush burned through her. “Oh, oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“Not at all.” He gave her a smile that had a hint of sadness
in it. “Not many people know that I am gay, so if you could keep it between us,
I would appreciate it. Claudette knows, of course, but I try to keep my love
life private.”

Growing more tired by the second, Anya nodded, then yawned.
“Of course.”

“Look at me, babbling on while you’re practically falling
asleep standing up. You get some rest, and when you’re ready, I’d be more than
happy to take you to Misericorde and beat off the Doms that will no doubt flock
to you.”

She slipped off her shoes and yawned again. “I’d like that.”

“Excellent.” He opened the door, then looked over his
shoulder. “By the way, the flowers are from your Master.”

As soon as he closed the door behind him, she moved across
her flat to where the roses stood on the table. Brushing her fingers over the
silky-soft petals, she no longer tried to hold back her tears. Stumbling over
to her bed, she threw herself on the mattress, clutched a pillow close to her,
and cried from the unbearable loneliness of missing her Master.

* * * *

Six hours later she woke as the sun was beginning to set.
Though the buildings across the street blocked most of the skyline, she could
still see the bright pink burning the clouds outside of her window. She got out
of bed, washed her face, and brushed her teeth, then set up her brand-new
laptop on the small table near the roses. The computer had been a gift from
Jesse, and he’d promised her that no matter where she was in the world, she’d
be able to e-mail him.

Her massive cry earlier had left her feeling calmer, a
little more in control. Mercifully, the wine hadn’t left her with a headache,
and her stomach rumbled at the thought of food. A quick glance at the time
assured her she’d be able to write Jesse before going down to meet Claudette.
For a moment she considered telling Jesse how much she missed him, how much she
wished he was here, but she decided instead to try and bring him joy with her
words instead of sorrow.

Dear Jesse,

I finally made it to
Paris, in a much better mood than when you saw me last. Part of that was
because of my upgrade to first class. A totally unnecessary but very much
appreciated gift from you. I had no idea they had actual beds you could sleep
in with your own little private cubicle. It certainly made resting easier so
when I arrived in France I was more than awake.

Jesse, Paris…Paris is
amazing.

The city fairly hums
with energy, everyone bustling about. I’ve never been in a place where so many
people walk and ride bikes. I was nervous about not having a car, but there is
seriously no place to park in the section of Paris where my flat is. My flat is
situated above a flower shop owned by my neighbor, Claudette. She is very nice,
as is Paul. They both welcomed me to the city with wine, flowers, bread, and
cheese.

Very surreal for a
girl from Nowheresville, Indiana.

Tomorrow I’ll be going
to the burlesque theater to begin my study with them. I’m very nervous, scared even,
but I’ll be wearing your collar, and you’ll be there with me, giving me
strength.

Your Anya

Dear Jesse,

I can’t believe a
month has already passed! I’ve been so busy trying to do as you ordered, to
live life to the fullest over here. Last night I finally got up the nerve to go
dancing with the ladies from the show, and I had a blast. You should have seen
how those women flirted with the men, leading them on and driving them crazy
but letting the men get away with nothing. They are trying to teach me how to
dance, but I’m afraid I’ll never be able to do more than shuffle in time to the
beat.

I think about you at
night when I’m alone in my bed.

I miss you.

Your Anya

Dear Jesse,

Sorry it’s taken me so
long to get back to you. The past three days have gone by in a blur. You know
that banker that owns the building, Paul? Well, his family runs a wonderful
vineyard not too far from Paris, and he took me for a visit. He brought me to
meet his family as his cover so they’d get off his back about finding a wife.
You know, pretty foreign girl, long-distance relationship, and all of that.
Anyways, he’s also a submissive, and he offered to show me around the Parisian
BDSM clubs. I turned him down because going there, seeing the Masters with
their women, it would only make me miss you more than ever.

But back onto a
happier subject because I know you don’t want me moping around all the time.
You would have loved the train ride out of the city. Someday when we return
together I’d like to take you to the wine region and spend a week going from
vineyard to vineyard. And don’t bother to write back saying that I never know
what I’ll want in four weeks, because I will still want you just as much then
as I do now.

That hasn’t changed
for me, Master. The more people I’m around, the more of the world I see, the
more I realize how much I care about you. Oh, I certainly miss the way you
dominate me, and no man can hold a candle to you in the looks department, but I
miss talking with you. I miss waking up in your arms, safe and secure against
you as you hold me in your sleep.

I’m going to go before
I start crying again. Give the boys kisses for me.

Your Anya

Dear Jesse,

It is one week until I
return to the States, and you seem to have vanished off the face of the earth.
Please e-mail me and let me know you’re okay. I haven’t heard from you in three
days, and I’m worried. Yeah, I know, you were worried when you didn’t hear from
me for three days when I was caught up in the craziness of opening week at the
burlesque theater, but we both know that you’re the responsible one. I’m the
flighty seamstress who almost got arrested for indecent exposure.

If you want to know
the story on that one, you’re going to have to spank it out of me. And yes, I
realize this is brat behavior, topping from the bottom to try and get a
punishment, but holy hell, do I miss you. You’ve invaded my dreams almost every
night, and I still sleep in your T-shirts that I “borrowed” from you.

So please, please
e-mail me back. If you don’t, I’m going to call you even though you forbid it.
Then you’ll have to punish me for that as well. Plus you won’t know what your
surprise is.

Your Anya

She picked up her phone and scrolled through to Jesse’s cell
phone number before walking out onto her small terrace. The early morning sun
shone down on the busy street scene below her of people selling flowers and
produce. Her neighbor, Claudette, was down there right now, and Anya wondered
if the older woman wanted to go get coffee later. After spending nearly three
months living next door to the vibrant middle-aged woman, she’d miss their
conversations over wine about life and love.

Removing her thumb from the Send button, she turned her
phone off and sighed. No doubt Jesse had his reasons for his silence, but she’d
done exactly what he wanted and now she wanted her reward. Doubt tried to
wiggle its way into her heart, and she wondered if this was his way of breaking
things off with her.

No, that didn’t make sense.

Every one of his letters had been filled with warmth and
humor, rays of sunlight into her day that warmed her from the inside out. Of
course he’d be waiting for her after she got off the flight back in DC. Just
because he didn’t immediately respond to her letters like usual didn’t mean
anything. He could be very busy with work, or maybe something came up with the
boys.

Or maybe he’d found someone he liked better.

She tucked her hair behind her ear and looked around her
small junk drawer for a rubber band to tie it back with. She’d gotten it
trimmed by a woman who did the dancers’ hair for the theater. Now, instead of
falling in a straight sheaf down her back, it had layers and framed her face.
It was still long enough to reach her lower back, but it had more style now.

She hoped Jesse liked it.

As she got ready to go grab some breakfast downstairs, she
slipped on her pale pink high heels and grinned. One of the first things she’d
gotten used to was wearing her high heels. Women in Paris wore them almost
everywhere, and she’d gotten quite good at walking in them. Hell, she could
even run in them now.