Praise (Salacious Players’ Club)

Emerson

Iwas prepared for Charlotte to show up at my house in those same black boots I’ve seen her in twice now. I was prepared for her to be clumsy and nervous. I was even prepared for her to be late.

What I was not prepared for is her showing up five minutes early in a nearly see-through blouse and a black pencil skirt that makes my hands itch with the way her ass fills it.

Highly inappropriate to look at my secretary and son’s ex-girlfriend like that, I know, but in my defense, I’m not used to having a platonic employee in my office. The craving to see her on her knees in that outfit is damn near painful.

“Good morning,” she says as she walks into my house at 8:55 a.m.

My eyes land on her deep red lipstick—is she trying to fuck with me?

“Morning,” I grumble. Her heels click against the marble floor as she follows me into the house. Pointing to the entryway closet, I show her where to put her things.

“Jacket?”

“Oh,” she stammers, starting to shrug out of the heavy wool peacoat. Putting a hand on her shoulder, I stop her, and gently guide her to turn around. With her back to me, I lift the coat from her tiny frame, letting my gaze linger on the soft hairs brushing the back of her neck. After I hang her jacket up on the hanger, she turns around, and my eyes immediately fall downward, landing on her chest.

I was wrong. The shirt isn’t almost transparent…it’s entirely transparent, and she is wearing a black lacy bra underneath. What happened to the roller skate girl or the one dressed in all black the other day? This feels like an ambush I wasn’t ready for.

“Coffee?” I ask because my mind seems to be caught on lame one-word phrases.

“No, thank you.”

“Come in then,” I reply, placing a hand lightly at the small of her back and using the other to point toward my office.

I keep having to check myself. Her surprising appearance today has thrown me off. As hard as I try to stay natural and behave as I normally would, I keep seeing my actions as being too forward and too sexual. Which is not what I’m going for. She’s just a secretary. Not a sub. This is not a scene. Clear your head, dammit.

After directing her to the chair in front of my desk, I hand her the packet Garrett gave me to have her fill out for payroll. Maggie had a small fit over me hiring a new employee, but I have faith we’ll find room in the budget. I need a secretary, after all—an actual secretary, and Maggie is too busy managing all of us to do the work I need around here.

“So you work from home?” Charlotte asks.

“Yes, I do. We all do at the moment. The new building is in construction right now.”

“Oh, that’s exciting.”

I fight back a smirk, picturing the blueprint for the new building with the cages, stage, and fully-equipped private rooms. Yes, it is exciting, but I’m not going to hit her with all of that right now. Best to ease her into things.

“Do you have any questions about the company?” I ask.

Her eyes go wide. “Tons. I have tons of questions.”

I have to bite back my smile again. “Well, go ahead then. Ask one.”

“Umm…” She twists up her ruby red lips, and furrows her brow seemingly in thought. “So you hire girls to kneel and serve you. Is that what everyone does?”

“Not at all. That’s just my style. There is an array of fantasies that our employees will fulfill.”

“But no sex?”

“Not exactly.”

“What does that mean?” she asks with a curious expression.

“It means that the money exchanged is not for sex. What they do behind closed doors is their business.” Best to leave it at that. We find a lot of loopholes and loose language in the law books to work around, but that’s what we have Xander for—the best lawyer in Briar Point.

The look on her face, tight-lipped and skeptical, says she doesn’t quite believe what I’m saying, so I pry her some more. “What other questions do you have?”

“What other…things do people do?” she asks with a sort of curious delight in her eyes.

I have to give her credit. She doesn’t look as uncomfortable as I expected her to be, and I love her open curiosity. There is still so much stigma attached with sexual fantasies and pleasure, it’s ridiculous. But Charlotte doesn’t seem bothered by that.

Standing from my desk, I walk around to the front where I lean against its surface and cross my arms. “Anything and everything. As long as it’s consensual and everyone is of age, anything goes.”

“Like…tying people up and whipping them?”

I shrug. “Sure. If that’s what they like. We also have clients who just like to watch…or be watched. Role play. Degradation. Age-play, edging, objectification, bondage…”

With each word that comes out of my mouth, I watch Charlotte’s eyes widen and her shoulders tighten, so I stop, giving her a moment to say whatever it is she’s thinking, or rather, wondering. I mean…it’s only nine in the morning. We might need coffee for this conversation.

“I don’t know what half of those are,” she replies.

“Well, it’s not something you need to know for this job, but if you are curious, you can learn. There’s no reason to be intimidated by all of it. I know it seems strange, but you’d be surprised how normal it really is.”

A laugh escapes her lips.

“What?” I ask.

“Nothing, it’s just…normal?”

“Everyone has a desire they think is kinky, Ms. Underwood. Thinking what we like is abnormal is the one thing we all seem to have in common.”

Her grin relaxes, and she leans forward, giving me a full view of her tits that I have to force myself to look away from.

“Okay, then,” she replies, resting her chin on her clenched fists. “What is yours?”

My head snaps back in her direction, and I glare at her in shock. Not because I’m offended by her asking that. I can’t give a speech about how normal kinks are and then act like it’s an affront to be interrogated to reveal mine. But I’m shocked because Charlotte is nothing like any girl I’ve had in my office. She’s blunt in a way I’m not used to.

“You should already know,” I reply, biting back my grin.

“The whole secretary on her knees thing?”

This time I do grin. “It’s called a Dominant/submissive relationship.”

She seems to deliberate for a moment, as if she’s trying to tell if she likes the taste of something. I use the approximately three seconds of silence to imagine her in that role for me, and it’s the most appealing vision I’ve had in a while. Isn’t life grand like that? The forbidden fruit always tastes sweetest.

“What about me?”

I nearly choke, clearing my throat and waiting for her to elaborate. “What about you?”

Please, God. Don’t let her tempt me more than she already has.

“What do you think my kink is?”

She bites her bottom lip, and I can’t resist the urge to mirror her actions, tugging mine between my teeth as well. Charlotte is beautiful in a mysterious and unique way. Her eyes are large and innocent-looking, and her nose has a high ridge, making her look a little more regal than her attitude suggests. It’s those wide red lips of hers that keep my attention, though.

“I don’t know you well enough yet. Besides, that’s really up to you to decide, isn’t it?”

“I thought that was your job,” she replies with a smile that shows her bright teeth in contrast to her scarlet lips. “You’re supposed to help people find their deepest, darkest desires, aren’t you?”

I can’t tell if she’s patronizing me or not, but I don’t reprimand her for it. I think she’s taking this as seriously as Charlotte can, guessing she’s not an overtly austere person. It makes me wonder if she was this way with Beau.

Garrett is really better at this than me. It’s his job, anyway. He can read people so well, much better than I can. It’s something I’m sure stems from how much he likes to watch.

But I take a shot at it anyway, running through the things I know about Charlotte so far…

She’s bold, fearless, outspoken with a healthy sense of humor. She would hate impact play, anything age-related or bondage. She might like to be watched, considering how see-through that shirt is and how prominently she displays her breasts for me now.

Then I remember a certain expression on her face the other day while she knelt on the floor for me—to my own utter humiliation. But there was a blip of a moment when I held her softly by the chin and called her lovely. Her gaze softened and her posture almost melted into my touch. It seemed too natural to be fake.

When she notices my pensive expression change to amused, she speaks up.

“What?” she asks eagerly. “You look like you figured it out. What is it?”

Yes, I definitely figured it out. But I don’t quite know if I want to disclose it to her. I don’t know why, but I have a strange desire to keep this one to myself, like a small treasure. If I tell Charlotte she most likely has a strong praise kink, she’ll share it with other people. Someday, it could be another man whispering all the dirty things I want to tell her, like how well she swallows his cock or how beautiful she looks while he pumps into her.

It’s selfish of me, especially considering it can never be me doing and saying those things, and it would only benefit her in the future to know this about herself, but I want to hold onto it for just a little while longer.

“Nothing,” I mutter as I stand up and walk back around to my chair.

“Oh, come on, tell me!”

“I told you,” I reply sternly. “I don’t know enough about you yet to determine that. If you’d really like to know, then talk to Garrett. You can ask him when you drop this paperwork off to him later today. For now, get to work.”

My tone has gone cold, and the expression on her face sinks as she picks up the clipboard and pen, starting to fill them out with a new wrinkle between her brows.

If this week has proven anything to me, it’s that I need to watch myself around this girl. She’s too perfect to ignore and too forbidden to be mine.