The Devil's Playthings Page 2

  He laughed, a deep low growl in the back of his throat, and she felt chills go down her spine. She didn't know if it was excitement or fear, but emotion poured through her veins.

  He shook his head, and pushed the chair away from the table enough to cross his legs in front of him and lean back. He tapped his fingers on the dark wood, a slow thump thump like a heartbeat.

  Emma waited quietly as he watched her, waiting for him to take the lead. She didn’t know what he expected, but she had an idea of what he wanted. The same thing every other man wanted. Perhaps he wanted her to seduce him, but he wasn’t sending any signals. He just stared at her with those penetrating black eyes.

  And, just as silently as he entered the room, he left through the same door.

  The maid was at her side quickly. “Miss, would you like me to guide you back to your room?”

  “Yes, thanks,” Emma answered.

  When they arrived at her room, she showed Emma her closet, and instructed her to open the drawers to her chest. Inside were the most beautiful clothes she’d ever seen. Clothes from designers she’d never even heard of, but she was sure they were expensive. And inside the chest she found pretty lingerie, underwear, and bikinis.

  Then the maid opened the door to the bathroom, and Emma’s mouth fell open. Inside she could see a white claw-footed tub, a separate shower stall, white marble floors covered in shaggy gold rugs. And all the faucets and fixtures were gold.

  A small closet was well stocked with fluffy white towels, a white robe with pretty gold threading, and expensive lotions, shampoos, and perfumes. She thought this was either a dream or a nightmare, but she didn’t care which.

  After the maid left, Emma squealed and hopped around in the room like a little girl, looking at every dress, and touching every panty. She even had a real leather jacket, and a fur coat. She fell back into the perfect white bed, which had been made while she was at breakfast, and laughed. She even pinched herself, just in case she really was dreaming.

  She put on one the many bikinis; four tiny triangles in varying shades of pink, that had a cover up shirt and a tiny little skirt to match. She made her way quietly to the pool, seeing only the maid standing near one of the huge oak doors, and stripped quickly.

  She dove in awkwardly, because she hadn’t been swimming in years. But the water felt so good, and the temperature of the little greenhouse like room was perfect. She swam for an hour, and pulled herself out of the water just so she could dive in again. She felt like a little kid. The only thing missing was someone to play in the water with. She climbed out on the ladder, and ran her hands through her long blonde hair to pull the water out. Then she shook herself and planted her derriere on one of the lounge chairs to dry off.

  Someone had placed a cold soda on the table beside the chair, the quiet maid she assumed. And just before she closed her eyes she saw him, still dressed in the dark suit and crisp white shirt, looking oh so perfect, standing on the other side of the tall glass doors.

  He watched her attentively. He didn’t approach her, he didn’t speak to her. He just watched her. She decided not to wave, or smile; she just closed her eyes and leaned her head back. And when she looked back several moments later he was gone.

  She shrugged, and grabbed the drink. She sipped it slowly as she stared out at the city below. She wondered why she couldn’t hear the normal sounds of the city, the car horns and the subway, only soft classical music piped in through speakers placed strategically around the room.

  She had all intentions of spending her whole day here, doing nothing. Nothing apparently was what he asked of her. And she didn’t mind. The young maid eventually returned, to ask her if she wanted lunch. She hadn’t even thought about eating after the huge breakfast she’d had, but when the young girl mentioned food, Emma’s stomach growled.

  “I’m not sure, what do you have?” Emma responded.

  “Well I’m sure the chef can make whatever you’d like,” the dark haired maid responded.

  Emma’s eyes grew wide at the thought. “Anything?” Emma was stunned at the idea of having whatever she wanted. Her grandmother was an okay cook, but they didn’t have much money, so a lot of her meals included beans or potatoes.

  Offered anything she wanted to eat, she couldn’t think of anything she really wanted. So, the maid stood behind her for several minutes while she tried to decide. She felt like an idiot when she asked for a salad, with ranch dressing, and a baked potato. She couldn’t think of anything more creative than a salad? But it sounded good, and simple to make. Emma didn’t want to be a bother to anyone.

  So she closed her eyes again, and when she opened them, the maid had brought her a plate and sat it on the table in front of her. She also brought another soda, and sour cream, butter, and dressing on the side. Everything was arranged on a silver tray, with silverware and a white napkin, and a crystal glass. She devoured the food, and drank all the soda.

  “Would you like something else, Miss?” the young woman asked tentatively.

  “Umm…” she thought for a moment, and then shook her head. “Can I ask, what’s your name?”

  The other woman looked at her stunned, as if no one had ever done that before.

  “I only mean, if I’m going to keep seeing you, I’d like to know what to call you,” Emma informed her.

  The other dark haired, dark skinned girl blushed bright red, and nodded. “Rosa,” she said after a short pause.

  “I don’t think I’d like anything else right now,” Emma replied. And then a thought hit her, “unless there is some cheesecake in the kitchen.”

  “I’ll see what I can do,” Rosa smiled, and then asked, “would you like another drink, Miss?”

  “Emma,” she smiled warmly. “And I’d like a bottle of water, please.” Rosa busied herself clearing everything from the table, placing it on the silver tray, and carrying it back through the huge glass doors.

  In several minutes Rosa returned with her dessert on a silver tray. Emma thanked her and dug in again. After finishing up, and feeling dry enough, she dressed and headed back inside. She easily found her bedroom. Then she frowned… just because she slept here didn’t make it “hers”. But she would claim it as long as possible, she shrugged.

  As soon as she entered her room, Rosa knocked quietly on the door. “Would you like me to draw a bath?”

  She hadn’t even thought of it, but after her day in the pool she was sure she needed a good washing. “A shower, maybe?” Emma shrugged.

  “Of course,” Rosa replied, and hurried to the bathroom. She busied herself with towels, soaps, and loofahs. When Emma heard the water run Rosa exited so she could undress.

  The water felt warm but not hot, and she stood in it for an eternity, washing her long blonde hair and then conditioning it. Then she washed her body with a soap that smelled like heaven, and noticed a girly little razor in the stall, so she used it as well. She felt almost human.

  She turned the water off, and after she snuggled into the thick robe, Rosa knocked again on the bathroom door. Emma didn’t know what to expect, but she opened the door to peek out. “I can do your hair if you like, Mi… Emma,” Rosa offered.

  “Okay,” Emma replied, and Rosa took her arm and led her to a dressing room, which was roughly the size of her whole bedroom at her grandparent’s house, and sat Emma down at a vanity. Then she went to a small closet, and pulled out several tools, a blow-dryer, a brush, and two different curling irons, and plugged them all in.

  The dressing mirror was like Emma had seen only in pictures, a mirror with several round lights surrounding it. And behind her, she could see in the mirror, was more clothes, rows and rows of shoes, hats, scarves, and any accessory Emma could think of.

  “Where am I, really?” Emma asked out of curiosity.

  “You’re in Master’s apartment,” Rosa replied.

  Emma gasped loudly, but Rosa turned on the blow-dryer, making conversation impossible. So Emma sat with her thoughts, wondering how or why she was in such a luxurious apartment, until the dryer stopped, and Emma pounced.

  “How did I get here?” Emma asked wildly.

  Rosa only shook her head. “I think you should ask Master.”

  “The last thing I remembered, I was in an alley,” Emma stated. Then she remembered the evening in question, and shivered. She thought it would be best to forget that night. She sat quietly again, allowing her dark thoughts to consume her as Rosa hummed and curled.

  “There, all done,” Rosa said quietly, and Emma finally looked at the huge mirror. Her hair was fashioned in big, swooping curls, and then pulled up in front so the curls cascaded down the back of her neck.

  “That’s very pretty,” Emma said. Then Rosa pulled a makeup case out of the closet, and placed it on the table in front of her.

  “Can you do this yourself?” Rosa asked. “Or would you like me to?”

  Emma couldn’t remember the last time she’d worn make up, so she shrugged and let Rosa do her magic. When she finished, Emma was pleasantly surprised again. The light pink color on her lips and cheeks gave her a fresh look, and the silver and dark grey on her eyes gave them a dramatic touch, and brought out the soft blue color. She also gave her blonde lashes a coat of mascara, or else they wouldn’t show up at all.

  “Master requests you dress for dinner,” Rosa said, and retrieved a sleeveless black dress that looked impossibly small, but fit Emma like a second skin. Then she chose a pair of strappy black high heeled shoes.

  Emma looked scared as she stared at the shoes. “I’ve never worn anything like that,” Emma stated.

  “It’s okay, try them on,” Rosa coaxed her. Emma did so, and nearly fell on her face.

  “Try again,” Rosa laughed, and helped her until she could at least walk without falling. Graceful would take time.

  So Emma took the few steps toward the dressing mirror in the bedroom, and she couldn’t believe her eyes. She looked like a movie star. “You are an artist,” she gushed to Rosa.

  “I had a good canvas,” she smiled. Then she held Emma’s elbow as she led her downstairs to the formal dining room again.

  She stumbled only once, and was thankful for Rosa’s steady hand. This evening, the two place settings were side by side. One sat at the head of the table, of course, and the other to the right. She could only assume she would be at his side.

  Then Rosa pulled out the chair for her, and she tried to sit as daintily as she could in the dress. This evening she didn’t have to wait long, for as soon as she sat he entered the room.

  He wore a black suit without a tie, and the neck of the crisp white collar open to show the muscles at his shoulders and the hollow at the base of his throat. She nearly gasped again at the sight of him. Up close he was even more beautiful than from afar.

  Since she sat closer to him, she hoped to guess his age. She thought mid 20’s to early 30’s, but of course she couldn’t be sure. And his eyes were even darker than she remembered. Rosa pulled out the chair for him then disappeared. Emma hoped Rosa finally got a break, and something to eat. She’d been with her nearly all day.

  The same men who brought their breakfast served their dinner. This was another first for her: their dinner was served in courses. A glass of water sat in front of her, and another empty glass sat beside it.

  A very young man, about Rosa’s age, brought a bottle of wine, and allowed Master to taste it. She couldn’t believe she’d already comfortably labeled him “Master,” but after hearing Rosa use it often, it stuck.

  He smelled it, tasted it, and then nodded. The server poured a glass of the red wine for him, then one for Emma. Emma took a sip, and thought it was fruity but strong. She’d also never had wine.

  She sighed audibly, and embarrassed she glanced over to see his reaction. He only looked at her from the corner of his eye, but didn’t comment. She also noticed two plates and a bowl stacked in front of her neatly, and several forks and spoons and knives. She stole a glance at him, as he unfolded his napkin. She did the same. Because she’d never done it, didn’t mean she couldn’t learn.

  The young man removed the bowl and placed it to the side, then placed a small plate of bread and a small bowl of something that looked like chopped tomatoes with a dainty spoon inside on top of the plates. She waited and watched him, as he took a piece of the hard toasted bread and placed a small amount of tomatoes on it, then took a bite. She did the same.

  Her eyes grew wide at the taste; crunchy, cool and spicy all at the same time. “Ummm…” she allowed to escape her lips, and then glanced at him again. He almost smiled, those high cheek bones forming perfect little circles beside his straight nose. The more she looked at him she wondered if he was American. And then she wondered if he could speak English. Maybe that’s why he was so quiet. The grin turned to a full smile, and she wondered why he smiled.

  But she didn’t think of anything else as she took another bite of her food. She tried not to scarf it down like she did her breakfast, and thankfully she wasn’t as hungry as she’d been this morning. There were only two pieces of the toasty bread, so she only got enough to want more. And more there was.

  The server took her small plate, and then placed the bowl back on her plates, as well as Master’s. He carried a small white serving bowl from the kitchen, and filled her bowl with minestrone. This was something she’d had before, but from a can. This was homemade, with freshly chopped vegetables, small round pieces of pasta, and chunky pieces of herbs. She tried not to let another sound of pleasure escape her lips, but couldn’t help it. And he grinned again.

  When that bowl was cleared away, she was a little shocked to see a small crystal bowl filled with sherbet placed in front of her. Was this the end of their dinner? She wondered to herself, but tasting the strawberry flavor of the iced concoction, she couldn’t be disappointed in the least. Even if this was the end, she’d enjoyed every moment of it. She closed her eyes, and allowed another “Ummmm” to escape her lips. This time she was not repentant.

  To her surprise, another course was served. The small bowl was removed, and a course of pasta smothered with grilled chicken with a tomato sauce filled the plate, and she thought nothing could get better than this. She ate every bite, watching him carefully first to mimic how he cut the chicken and took small bites, then swirl the pasta around his fork.

  After that came a leafy salad, with a vinaigrette dressing. She couldn’t say this was her favorite part of the meal, but she ate some of it. Then another course came, a puffed pastry filled with thick cream and topped with drizzled chocolate. He ate this with his fingers, so she did the same. Another napkin was provided, thankfully.

  She’d got chocolate on her hands, and when she lifted it to lick a little off, he made a small growling noise. She could only assume it was disapproval, and she didn’t do it again.

  Next they were served fresh fruit, like a fruit cocktail she had when she was younger, but even better, and a thick dark coffee. She tried a sip, and wasn’t sure if she liked it or not, so she tried another. It was bitter but good, and he politely placed a sugar cube in it for her.

  “Thank you,” she said in a small voice. He only nodded. She knew at least that he wasn’t deaf. Everything tasted so good she was full and still wanted more.

  When the dinner was over she knew he would disappear again, and she would head off to bed. She searched the room for a clock, but couldn’t find one. So she sat silently, head down, hands wringing the napkin, waiting for a signal from him.

  “Would you like to join me in the salon? We can listen to music,” he finally spoke. And what a voice he had; soft and quiet yet rich and melodious. He was definitely not American. The accent was lyrical, almost like he was singing.

  She saw before she felt the goose bumps on her arms, and her breath caught as she looked up at him. He stood, and he appeared bigger than she’d thought, perhaps because she sat staring up at him. And then he held his hand out to her, and she took it. His skin was pleasantly soft, and warm, his fingernails well-manicured. He looked, for lack of a better word, classy.

  She tried hard to walk in the shoes and she went very slowly. Thankfully he didn’t try to rush her, and when they entered the salon, he led her to a rich burgundy colored leather seat. She sat on the very edge, knees together due to the length of the skirt.