Caroline's Contract

Chapter Four

Chapter Four

Three days of waiting for her first meeting with Max were chilling. Thousands of bizarre fantasies loomed in her head. His appearance. His attitude. Would he be anything like the men in her fantasies? And then what? Was it possible that she could actually suggest to him the kind of s****l scenario she so yearned for? Would she have the guts to say the words, let alone submit to being spanked by some stranger?

And what if it were all wrong? What if Max Burton were nothing more than an abusing bully? And if so, how could Roxanne, her best friend, recommend him? She had liberal tastes in men, but certainly, she would never have mentioned him if she didn’t trust him. But could she trust Roxanne?

As Caroline approached the white frame house on Pine street, she was a bundle of worries.

“Attorney at Law” The sign was neatly posted in the front yard. Apparently he worked alone for there were no other names on the sign.

Gazing up at the two story structure, she found herself shivering with anxiety as her eyes moved from one window to the next. Of course, his office would be on the main floor. And in the second story would be his own apartment, or rooms where he might entertain female guests with appetites for curious s****l practices. Hesitating at the front gate, she wasn’t sure she was brave enough to follow through; and yet the potent memory of her long-held fantasy suddenly swept away her fears. Stepping boldly through the gate, she walked up the sidewalk, and took the stairs of Max Burton’s office with a sense of purpose she was only now becoming accustomed to.

Max Burton obviously had a flair for form and formality, which dictated his tastefully designed office interior. The white enamel woodwork offset the rich blue and velvet in the carpets and the drapes. The paintings were Old World, but not gaudy. Overall, the furnishings provided a warmly elegant, but professional setting, which might be found in any law office, in any city.

“I’m Caroline Ashley,” she introduced herself to a young woman sitting primly behind a rosewood desk. “I have an appointment with Max Burton.”

“Please have a seat.” The striking brunette pointed to a soft club chair. Then eyeing Caroline with suspicious curiosity, she picked up the phone, punched two numbers and announced Caroline’s arrival. Hearing her boss respond, she rose from her seat and disappeared beyond the office door.

Caroline watched the young woman awed by her sensuous grace. Though she wore a plain grey suit, the cut was not ordinary at all. The skirt was short, so that her garters peeked out when she bent just slightly; and the jacket was cut deeply in front, so that the observing eye could glimpse the pink lace teddy beneath the grey. Caroline could see the scant outline of her abundant breasts. She admired such daring from a woman so obviously young. And what a lovely neckline, she thought. With her dark hair pulled back off her face, Caroline viewed the lovely line of her graceful neck, and how it drew the eye downward to her more obvious physical assets. She was birdlike, almost proud, and Caroline shuddered, ever so slightly noting the effect it had on her.

“You may go in,” the secretary announced after she returned to her seat.

Caroline had forgotten her own nervousness, so caught up in the whole atmosphere of the office. But reminded now of her purpose, she felt foolish and flustered.

Slipping into Max Burton’s inner sanctum, Caroline sighed deeply, trying to regain some poise. Surely, she could be as facile as the pretty young brunette, though at the moment she felt like a shy five-year old.

Directly before her in the office was another rosewood desk; though this one was far larger than the one in the reception area, at least five feet long and several feet deep. Engrossed in a thick sheaf of papers, the attorney failed to acknowledge that she was there. But moving from one foot to the other, Caroline’s movements seemed to grab his attention, and he looked up, dispassionately appraising her.

She could not tell how tall he was, but regardless, he had an imperious presence that grabbed her instantly as though he had her cornered and cuffed. Though he was hardly handsome in the classic sense, his face was distinct, his nose strong, his mouth well-formed, and his eyes strikingly dark—the blue so deep it reminded her of the sky late in the evening when the last of the sun slips beneath the horizon and the color of cornflowers gives way to the shade and shadows of night. His jaw twitched and that made her nervous.

Looking at her as though he was displeased, he soon voiced his complaint, saying tersely, “Your dress is inappropriate.”

“What?” her voice was hardly more than a whisper of surprise.

“I’ll see you when you’re wearing high heels, and a skirt, and something more feminine on top.” He waved his hand as though dismissing her, “This’ll never do,” referring to her bulky sweater and jeans.

She herself dressed casually chic, and considered his remark both absurd and rude. “Excuse me. You might have mentioned this on the phone.” Though she tried remaining calm, she found that the anxiety of the past few days made her edgy, and her voice snap.

“Don’t waste my time, Miss Ashley,” Burton rejoined. “You can return next week at the same time, properly attired.”

He gestured with his hand again as if to whisk her away like an annoying fly. Before she left the room, he was already back at work.

Flying out the doors and down the street, Caroline mumbled her exasperated angry thoughts into the warm evening air. “How dare he brush me off like that! What kind of man is he?” It was all a mistake, a horrible mistake. What a stupid fool she was!

And yet . . . something beneath her burning rage, burned back at her with equal, if not, greater fire . . .