The Voyeur (5 page)

Anya was about to ask why not, when he added, ‘I can’t explain why or anything – it’s just a feeling I always get. Mark is always deliberately vague about things, so whatever it is you’re supposed to be doing, then just get on and do it.’

The careful blankness of the expression on the gardener’s face sent new shivers of doubt down Anya’s spine. This man obviously knew more about Mark’s lifestyle than he was letting on. Perhaps he knew more than he was supposed to.

‘Thank you. I’ll let you get on, then.’ Anya was at the kitchen door when she realised she hadn’t asked the man his name, but when she turned back to ask him, he’d already silently disappeared back into the house’s extensive grounds.

Something in her made Anya walk back to her desk rather quicker than she’d left it. Sitting, she focused as much attention as she could muster on her computer, and fought to drown out all the alarm bells the gardener had set off in her head. Had she, in her attempt to escape the bizarre practices at Bridge’s, walked into something even worse?

Seven replies to her email had appeared already. Three of them were ruled out instantly as they were far too tall or far too short. Grateful she was average height, Anya saw that the others were between 5 foot 4 and 5 foot 6 in height. Surely that was close enough? Mark didn’t need his housekeeper to be
exactly
the same height as her did he? I mean, how can it matter?

Soon there were four women’s smiling faces on her screen. One blonde, three redheads. Nothing surprising about that. Anya smiled to herself. Her weakness for redheads of either sex was no secret, as the ease with which she had capitulated to Craig had shown. Just the thought of that particular incident increased the semi-arousal that had been bubbling at the pit of her stomach since she’d started viewing the potential housekeepers, tripping it into full-blown desire.

Am I really looking for a lover via a domestic agency website? The whole thing was insane, and yet Mark was possibly the sanest man Anya had ever met. Too sane, maybe? Too honest with his kink-laden dreams? ‘Only time will tell.’ Anya spoke out loud as she set about the task of narrowing her four candidates down to three. She knew she might yet still get a response from the adverts she’d placed earlier on the “sex-maid” sites, but she doubted it within the time frame she’d been given.

There was nothing to choose between the remaining candidates appearance-wise, so she began to re-read the four women’s qualifications. Ten minutes later, she had whittled the list to three. Two redheads – Jayne Simpson and Elizabeth Greene – and one blonde. Clara Hooper.

The days passed slowly for Anya, in her relentless quest to secure the presence of the three women she thought Mark should interview. The hours she spent becoming accustomed to the filing system, and getting used to all the accounts and databases that came with the job of being Mark’s personal assistant, were merely a way to pass the hours in between viewing emails from Jayne, Elizabeth, and Clara. For every time Anya thought about the three women, what they might be like, and how they’d react when Mark told them the true nature of the additional duties that came with the position, the necessity to masturbate overtook her. Her brain continuously jumped between speculatively sexy thoughts about the candidates. Anya must have studied the computer monitor a million times, just staring at their faces, trying to decide which, if any of them, was the most likely to concede to Mark’s demands. What if none of them went for it? It wasn’t exactly an everyday request?

Having spoken to all three women on the telephone, Anya had almost driven herself mad trying to decide which was the most up for it, simply from the sound of their voices. She had swung from thinking that Jayne was the girl she found most attractive, to obsessing about Clara … Then again, Elizabeth’s voice definitely had a sultry, sexy lilt to it … Anya knew she was being ridiculous, but the wait until Friday, still two days away, seemed to be taking a lifetime.

Chapter Five

Anya had arranged train tickets for each of the three candidates, and for taxis to collect them from Oxford station, as well as outside caterers to provide lunch for five. She wasn’t at all sure that would be what Mark wanted, as he’d left only sketchy instructions; she had simply done what she thought most appropriate. She just hoped he’d be impressed.

Waking at five on Friday morning, adrenalin pumped around Anya’s body. Not only were the interviews set to take place at eleven o’clock, this would be the first time she’d seen Mark since he’d given her the chance to be his new PA. In just four hours’ time he would be with her, and Anya was sure he wouldn’t be late. He’d said nine o’clock in the morning, so he’d be there at nine o’clock in the morning.

As Mark had failed to leave her the outfit he’d mentioned in his note, Anya agonised about what to wear. Should she go for smart office clothes as would befit her secretarial role, or something more in line with the “extra duties” part of the bargain? Over the last few days Anya had thought non-stop about the conversation she’d had with Mark over the telephone the day after their first unorthodox encounter at Bridge’s. She replayed it on an almost continuous loop in her head …

‘I think it’s only fair to tell you once more what I will want from you should you agree to work for me. If you still wish to be in my employ once I have finished speaking, then you can begin on Monday. If you change your mind, then you can return to Bridge’s and not be bothered by me again. So the role includes all the secretarial requirements associated with being a PA, whether from my company base in Oxfordshire or my flat in London. Occasionally you will have to accompany me on business trips.

‘Outside of this remit, you will provide me with a wide variety of sexual services. These will become routine, will involve a certain amount of submission, and will sometimes take place away from the home. These things will be done without question.”

Without allowing herself time to think, and knowing she badly a needed a job, just as badly as she didn’t want to work at Bridge’s any more, Anya had agreed, even though every part of his statement had left her wanting to ask at least a dozen questions.

Now, with Mark’s words echoing in her ears, and remembering the forthcoming interviews, Anya felt it safest to err on the side of caution, and put on her sexiest cream lace lingerie under a well-cut charcoal suit. After a reassuring glance in the bathroom mirror, she decided to undo one more button of her white blouse, to hint at kinky promise as well as administrative efficiency.

At half-past eight Anya ran her palms under the cold tap in the bathroom, hoping the icy water would calm her racing pulse. Assailed with anxiety, she had long since run out of pieces of paper she could tidy in the office.

By the time Anya heard the front door of the house open, Parker Software’s newest PA was a bundle of nerves. Should I go and greet my new boss? Will Mark expect to find me being all professional and capable at my desk?

Fed up with feeling out of control, Anya stopped fidgeting, and sat at her computer. After all, Mark had taken a chance by employing her as his PA, a hefty promotion for her; she really didn’t want to jeopardise it before she had properly started by coming across as indecisive and inefficient.

Anya was re-reading the details of each of the interviewees for the hundredth time when the door to her office finally swung open.

Jumping to her feet, Anya found herself automatically drawing in her breath, and looking straight into the eyes of her employer. An employer who appeared far from happy.

‘You aren’t wearing what I instructed.’ His tone wasn’t so much angry, or even disappointed, just definite, and Anya felt instant guilt at letting him down, even though he was the one who’d made the mistake and not her.

‘I’m sorry, Mr Parker, but there were no clothes on my bed.’

‘Exactly!’

Cursing her own stupidity, Anya now realised how obvious his request had been. But it was too late. In the first five seconds of contact with her new boss she had got it wrong.

Her unruffled exterior broke, revealing how insecure she felt inside as she blustered, ‘I’m so sorry. I thought you’d just forgotten to put clothes out for me.’ She wiped her perspiring palms on her skirt, without daring to meet his gaze again, and quickly added, ‘I have managed to arrange for three women to be interviewed for the housekeeper’s position at eleven o’clock this morning.’

Pointing at the chair, Mark gestured for Anya to sit. Then, striding across the office, he dropped his briefcase to the floor, and loosened his tie. He stood just inches from the PA, and grabbed her chin, levering her face up so that she had no choice but to stare directly at him. Anya felt utterly powerless as he spoke.

‘First, I
never
forget anything. Unusual in the male of the species, I’m told, but nonetheless a fact.’

Anya opened her mouth to apologise once again, but Mark held up his hand, freezing the words on her tongue.

‘Second, you cannot compensate for one mistake by doing well elsewhere. Compensation will come in other forms. Your ability to fulfil my request and get three last-minute housekeeper candidates will only be judged a success once I’ve met them. Third, and most important of all, as I told you prior to your agreeing to come and work for me, you will do
everything
I ask of you
without
question. So if I tell you to wear something, and yet provide no garments for you, then you wear nothing. Understood?’

Anya was convinced he hadn’t even blinked as he’d spoken. ‘Yes, Mr Parker.’

‘Mark.’

‘Yes, Mark.’

He let go of her chin and glanced at the computer screen. ‘Tell me.’

Unable to swivel her chair to see the monitor herself, Anya told Mark as much as she could remember about each woman. Not that it was difficult, over the last 48 hours she’d more or less memorised every detail about the prospective interviewees.

Tension flooded the room as Mark, nodding occasionally to indicate he was listening, read over her shoulder while he pinioned Anya to her chair with the proximity of his solid body, allowing her no choice but to inhale his heady, masculine scent.

‘I think we should have a little bet.’ Mark took a step backward. ‘Which applicant, if they don’t all flee once I tell them precisely what I desire from a housekeeper, do you think will make the grade?’

As this was a question Anya had asked herself frequently since she’d drawn up the shortlist, she was prepared to answer Mark with some level of intelligent confidence. ‘I don’t think it will be Elizabeth. Her manner on the telephone was rather self-assured and, I suspect, she could tend toward the bossy. More dominatrix than submissive. But as her qualifications and height were perfect, I felt she should be seen. Between Jayne and Clara – that’s harder to call, and it would have to be a guess.’

‘Then guess.’ Mark slouched against the desk, his arms folded. There was a pleased expression on his face, as if now he’d explained his displeasure he was no longer annoyed with his new PA.

‘Clara. I’m not sure why. Just a hunch.’

‘Then I will gamble on Jayne. If you win, Anya, then you will be rewarded. If I win, you will be punished.’

A quiver of chilled anticipation ran down Anya’s spine. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to win or lose. ‘May I ask a question?’

‘You may.’

‘Why is it so important that they are the same height as me?’

‘You will find out soon enough.’ Mark tilted his head to one side, and studied Anya shrewdly as if he was seeing her for the first time. ‘In the meantime I think you should change into the outfit I left for you.’

Feeling incredibly self-conscious, Anya brought her hands to her blouse buttons and began to undo each clear fastener. Privately she cursed herself; she’d known this would be something she’d have to do, and yet now she was actually stripping for her new boss, she felt clumsy and uncertain.

His shrewd eyes never left Anya’s fingers as they fumbled over her chest, her blouse flapping open beneath her suit jacket, her bra revealing that it was only just managing to contain her breasts, which seem to have swollen to twice their size the minute his gaze had fallen on them.

Mark said nothing, and his expression remained unreadable as Anya rose from her chair so she could take her jacket from her shoulders. Next, she unzipped her neat knee-length skirt, letting it fall to the floor in one swift motion, leaving her relieved that it didn’t hook itself on her boots as it dropped toward the carpet.

Despite still having her shirt, boots, and underwear on, Anya had never felt so naked under her companion’s unwavering stare. She was about to shrug her blouse to the floor, when Mark spoke softly. ‘Stop please.’

Anya, unsure what to do with her hands, held on to the sides of her blouse, not quite brave enough to look at her boss.

‘Come here.’

Walking cautiously, Anya stopped just in front of him, her heart hammering as she awaited further instructions. She’d assumed he’d take hold of her body, and was taken by surprise therefore when, digging his hands into his trouser pockets, Mark said, ‘Leave your shirt on, but take your bra off.’

Trying her best not to act too clumsily as she manoeuvred her bra from her sleeve, Anya failed to hold in the sigh of relief as her tight tits felt the caress of both her top and the air of the warm room against them.

‘Rub your nipples.’

Keen for some attention, even if it was just self-stimulation, Anya bought her fingertips to her teats, gently manipulating them. She was surprised by how quickly her own ministrations turned her on, in spite of the unaccustomed audience. An audience whose dark eyes were wide, but which was otherwise in perfect control of itself. Anya risked a glance at Mark’s crotch, but could see no discernible bulge. In fact, there was no sign to indicate that she was doing anything for him at all.

Her heart sank but, determined to give him a good show, Anya increased her speed, cupping, kneading, and pinching her teats hard and fast. She closed her eyes as sensations of want hit her legs. Anya’s juices covered her clit, and she wondered how much longer she’d have to hang on until Mark took her. Keeping her hands moving, Anya mentally willed him to intervene and give her the fucking she so badly needed after a week of outrageous sexual fantasies that had resulted in nothing but lonely masturbation.

‘Enough now. Stop.’

It took a few moments for Anya to truly register what he’d said. She couldn’t believe it. Surely he wasn’t going to leave things like this? Mark, however, merely went to sit at the desk. ‘I’d better make sure I’m up to speed on the potential housekeepers while you go and get ready. I assume some sort of catering has been arranged?’

Anya’s mouth hung open. She was seconds from climaxing; her knickers had stuck to her like glue, and he was paying no heed to her at all. His face wasn’t flushed, and his tone was so ordinary and matter of fact that it was almost insulting. He had no obvious hard-on, and her boss had switched his concentration away from her with humiliating ease.

‘Well? Has it?’

‘Yes, Mark.’

‘Excellent.’ He didn’t so much as glance up. ‘Off you go, then. Please check the kitchen is ready, and be in the hall to greet our guests from half-past ten. I’ll see them all together in the dining room to start with.’

Frozen in shock at the anti-climax of their first sexual encounter, Anya stared at Mark’s back for a few moments in case she’d been mistaken. But no, that really was it. She was being dismissed. With lightning speed, Anya gathered up her clothes and, grateful that there was no one else in the house to bump into, she ran to her room.

Seething with annoyed confusion and hurt pride, Anya wanked herself off, showered, changed her underwear, and presented herself to the temporary caterers to ensure that the refreshments she’d requested for the candidates’ arrival were on their way to the dining room, and that a light lunch was being prepared.

She wouldn’t be surprised if the majority of the food was wasted. Mark intended to lay his cards on the table before any of the formal interviews began. He obviously expected that at least one of the women would walk out. Anya suspected they would all go, and after her recent humiliation, she wouldn’t blame them. She was sorely tempted to leave herself.

The women all arrived within ten minutes of each other. Trying her hardest not to let her face reveal that she was accessing each one as a potential lover, Anya welcomed them, before ushering them into the dining room; privately relieved they all looked as good in real life as they had in their photos.

Exchanging pleasantries with the women, Anya could tell that both Clara and Jayne were a little apprehensive, but Elizabeth was in perfect command of herself. Anya began to fill the women in on the type of business Mark ran, about the conference lunches she’d learnt he often held, and reiterated the need to work not just here, but in the flat in London as well. Unable to talk about the flat she’d never seen, Anya expounded the virtues of the lovely mansion and gardens, talking up the tasteful dressing room and living area she would share with the successful candidate, and carefully refraining from mentioning the tiny, cramped bedroom.

The moment Mark walked in, however, the easy-going atmosphere in the room changed.

Suddenly it was all so obvious. There was something dangerously hypnotic about this man. Something mysterious and almost enchanted. It occurred to Anya that she had only really met him twice. Both occasions had been far from ordinary, and yet she already didn’t want to fail him. Here and now, as the three other women all observed Mark Parker with open interest, Anya knew she would stay; that she had forgiven his strange behaviour in the office. Maybe it’s because I can never resist a challenge? Reigning in her thoughts, Anya refocused on the job at hand; besides, she really didn’t want to analyse her feelings any further.

Appearing utterly relaxed, Mark introduced himself and launched into a brief speech about Parker Software, and the responsibilities, pay and hours that came with the housekeeper’s position.