Conrad and Lacey Pt. 01

B.A. was pawing through a drawer and finally selected a large dildo. He handed it to P.T., who shoved it into Teresa's pussy. Her whole body spasmed, she rose up on her toes, arched her back, and then came with a shriek. The dildo fell to the floor.

"Good girl!" P.T. exclaimed. "Did that feel nice?"

Teresa stared at him and slowly, reluctantly nodded. "Yes, Master. Thank you," she whispered.

"Are you ready to go with your master? I hope we don't need to see you back in here again."

"Yes, Master."

B.A. released her from the cuffs. "Let's go, sweetheart. I'm ready to try that beautiful ass, and then we'll find a nice bowl of ice cream for you." He held up the coat so she could wrap it around herself. Conrad noted that no one had removed the butt plug. B.A. picked up her shoes and led her from the room.

"Gentlemen, I think Teresa is off to a good start. We'll wait to hear back from B.A. tomorrow as to whether she requires a third session, but my instinct says she will not. Does anyone disagree?"

A few of the men shook their heads.

"Mr. D.O., any other business?"

D.O. stood. "I only want to introduce Mr. C.S., whom many of you probably recognize. Mr. C.S., did you enjoy our meeting?"

Conrad grinned. "When's the next one?" he asked.

CHAPTER 2: DINNER

Lacey had been dreading this room. Yesterday, it had been the worst mess she'd seen in her short time at this job, and the current occupants would be here for at least two more nights. But, she couldn't put it off forever. She knocked, hoping they were there so she could offer to come back later, but there was no response. She opened the door.

Sure enough, the bed was in disarray, garbage littered the floor, and within a minute, she'd picked up three condom wrappers. She shuddered. These people had no shame. At least put the wrappers in the wastebasket! Worse, they didn't bother to hide their toys, and Lacey tried to avoid touching the fake penis and other items she had no names for that were set out haphazardly on the bedside table.

The used condoms were in the bathroom wastebasket. She thanked God for that small mercy.

After she'd collected as much trash as she could, she started on the bathroom, which, other than the condoms, wasn't worse than most. It was when she stripped the bed that she came across the worst shock of all. Under one of the pillows was a magazine, open to a page that showed a nude woman with ropes around her chest, hanging in a most obscene position with her legs wide open and something sticking out of her butt. A naked man stood over her with his penis in her mouth. Lacey's stomach churned, and she shut the magazine and laid it atop the sex toys, wishing she could erase the image from her memory. Alas, though she had bleach for the toilet, she did not have any for her eyes.

Fortunately, the rest of the job was easy enough, and she made the bed with fresh sheets, vacuumed, and got out of there as fast as she could.

Working at the hotel had been quite the education for Lacey. She'd known she was naïve. Her parents had made sure of that. They'd tried to warn her away from college in Los Angeles, tried to persuade her to attend one of the more rural universities, but Lacey had wanted an adventure.

The adventure had been a little too much for her, and she'd dropped out of school after the fall semester of her sophomore year and found this job as a housekeeper so she could continue to live in L.A. while she figured out what she wanted to do with her life. Little had she known that she'd find out as much about herself at the hotel as she had in the dorms. And what she'd learned was that she was a complete prude, terrified of sex, disgusted by the depravity people came up with, and wished to be back in the little cocoon of her parents' chaste home. She blamed them for her isolation, cursed them for keeping her so in the dark, but yearned for the safety her ignorance had provided.

She waited at the elevator with her cart, dwelling on the picture she'd seen. What were they doing? Why would anyone want to put something in her butt, or have a penis in her mouth, or be tied up like that, naked and exposed? Did she like it, or was she being tortured? How could that be fun? In the category of "things she wished she'd never seen," that magazine ranked almost as high as the dismembered horse she'd come across a few years ago on a ranch near home.

So distracted was she that she didn't notice there was someone standing behind her until the elevator arrived and the doors opened. He went in ahead of her and then put his hand out to keep the doors from closing while she pushed her cart through. "Sorry," she said. "Thanks."

"What's your name?" he asked. He smiled at her, his kind face and friendly blue eyes putting her quite at ease.

"Lacey."

"How long have you worked here, Lacey?"

"Four months. I'm still getting used to it." She giggled nervously.

"You don't know who I am, do you?" he asked.

"No. I'm sorry. Should I?"

He laughed and held out his hand for her to shake. "Conrad Sinclair," he said.

Sinclair. "Oh my gosh. Sinclair...like...the hotel name! It's very nice to meet you, sir."

He chuckled. "Likewise. Four months, you said? Do you like the work?"

Being in the presence of the owner himself made her palms sweat. "Yes, sir, I do. Your hotel is beautiful."

"Thank you." He tilted his head and swept his gaze over her, from the top of her head to her toes. "Miss Lacey, I find myself without dinner plans. Would you join me tonight?"

"Join...you?" she squeaked. "Why?" That was the wrong question, but she couldn't imagine someone like him having any interest in a lowly maid.

"Why not?" he said. "Is your shift over?"

"At 5:00, sir. I'm just taking the laundry down."

"Excellent. Come up to my office at 6:00. Do you know where that is?"

"Yes, sir. Of course. But, do I - why - what - um." She knew what she wanted to ask, but she didn't know how to ask tactfully.

"Just a friendly dinner, baby doll," he said.

Baby doll. She should have been offended, but the way he said it made her feel all fluttery and excited. "Yes, sir."

* * *

There wasn't time to go back to her apartment to change, so she hoped the comfortable clothes she'd worn to work would do. She changed out of her housekeeping uniform and put the t-shirt and sweatpants on, then frowned. She couldn't wear this to dinner with the boss!

"Hi Lacey," a voice said behind her. She turned to see Gina taking off her apron and pulling her clothes out of her locker. "What's up? You look confused."

"Gina, um, you don't have, like, sort of nice clothes here, do you?"

"Nice how?"

"I'm invited to dinner, and I don't have time to go home and change, and this outfit is all I have."

Gina shrugged. "I have an emergency skirt if you want. You can have my top, too, if I can have yours. I'm just going home."

"You're the best. I owe you one."

Gina's "emergency skirt" turned out to be a black leather miniskirt, and ordinarily Lacey wouldn't have gone within 10 feet of such a thing, but for dinner with the boss...well, it was better than sweatpants. "You look great," Gina said. "Big date?"

"Um, I'm not sure what it is, actually."

She laughed. "Okay then. Have fun."

Lacey grabbed her purse and made her way to the elevator and up to the administrative wing, feeling very self-conscious and very out of place. All the women she saw were dressed very professionally, but no one gave her a hard time. Indeed, they seemed to know exactly what she was up there for. She wished she knew!

Mr. Sinclair's secretary smiled at her. "Mr. Sinclair is expecting you," she said, gesturing toward the heavy door behind her. Lacey let herself in.

"Lacey! Please, come in." Mr. Sinclair's office was positively huge. He was sitting at a fancy desk near a bank of windows along the far wall, and in between the door and the desk were several couches set around low tables. "You look lovely."

She tugged at the skirt, suddenly uncomfortable with how much skin she was showing. "Thank you, sir."

He got up from his desk and came over to her. He took her hand in a most gentlemanly manner and kissed her knuckles. "Sit. Make yourself comfortable. The kitchen will be sending up our meal shortly. I hope you like duck."

"I - um, I don't think I've ever had duck," she said.

"No? Well, you're in for a treat, then!"

She sat on the edge of one of the couches, knees pressed together. "Thank you."

He took a seat on a couch on the other side of the low table. "You look absolutely terrified," he said. "Am I that scary?" He smiled.

"No. Well, it's just, you're, you know, the boss of my boss of my boss to the nth degree, and I'm not sure why you've invited a lowly housekeeper up here for dinner." The words spilled out.

"It's just dinner, baby doll. It doesn't have anything to do with your job. If it helps, pretend we met at a bar."

"A bar? Okay." Not that she'd ever been in a bar. And not that she'd go home with someone she'd just met at a bar, assuming she went to one.

"Good. So, tell me something about yourself."

"There's nothing to tell, really."

"There's always something to tell. Where are you from?"

"A little town up in the Central Valley."

"So what brought you to the big city?"

"Um, I wanted to go to UCLA. But just the campus is bigger than my hometown!"

"Bit of a shock?"

"A lot of a shock! I dropped out."

"How old are you?" he asked suddenly.

"I'm 20."

His expression could only be described as "relieved." "Why did you drop out?"

She'd been asking herself that question a lot lately. "Well, like you said, the shock. I got kind of overwhelmed. I liked the academics, but the social stuff was too much for me."

"What kind of social stuff?"

"All of it! Everyone was always getting together for parties or clubs or going out on the weekends. And the city is so big and loud and smelly."

Mr. Sinclair laughed. "Big and loud and smelly. That's L.A. But it's exciting, isn't it? There's always something happening. And there are museums and the philharmonic and theater, lots of restaurants. People think of Los Angeles as uncultured, but I think there's plenty if you know where to look. It's no New York, but it has its charm."

"I guess. I don't exactly have money to throw at that kind of stuff."

His eyes changed, then, from friendly to focused. "Maybe I'll take you to the Getty Museum, then. You'll love it."

"The Getty? You don't have to do that, sir."

"I want to."

A knock at the door signaled the arrival of dinner. A room service waiter wheeled in a dinner cart and presented their meals with a flourish. Mr. Sinclair gestured toward a conference table off to the side. "We can eat over there. More comfortable."

They started with soup. It was velvety and creamy and so full of flavor. She'd never had anything like it. "This is delicious," she said.

He smiled. "So, would you consider returning to school?"

"I think so. I just needed a break. Maybe in the fall."

"Good. If the academics weren't a problem, then you can find a way to manage the rest. Wine?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Do you want some wine?" He offered her an empty glass.

"I'm not 21 yet."

He glanced around the office. "I promise there are no cops here."

"I don't -"

"Don't tell me you don't drink. This is fine wine, not fuzzy navels in red Solo cups."

That made her laugh. "Okay. I'll have a little."

"I went to college, too, you know." He poured more than she would have termed "a little" and handed her the glass. "Enjoy."

She took a sip. "Oh! This is nice." She took a bigger sip. "What kind is it?" She knew next to nothing about wine, except there were two colors. Or maybe there were more than two? This one was definitely red, though.

"That's a pinot noir. One of my favorites. It will pair nicely with the duck."

"Okay." She finished her soup and set the bowl aside. Mr. Sinclair uncovered a plate and set it in front of her. It was so beautiful to look at, she was sorry to eat it and ruin the presentation. Slices of meat sat atop some kind of sauce, with a variety of vegetables beside it. "Wow," she said.

"Eat! It won't bite."

"Thank you, sir. This is really amazing." She cut off a small piece and tasted it. "This is good!"

"I told you." They ate in silence for a few minutes, savoring the meal. She kept waiting for him to say something that would give her a clue as to what he expected from her. But he just ate, glancing up at her and smiling every so often.

She put down her fork. "Mr. Sinclair, um, why am I here?" She was feeling more relaxed. The wine probably helped.

"Why are you here, Lacey?" he countered.

"Because you invited me."

"Exactly."

"But why did you invite me?"

"Because when I saw you in the elevator, I thought you were cute."

"Cute?" She wasn't sure if that was a compliment.

"Very pretty, then. And sweet. Why did you accept my invitation?"

She took another sip of wine. "Mostly because you're Mr. Sinclair," she said. "To be honest."

He chuckled. "Fair enough." He sighed. "Two things. One, call me Conrad. But never Connie! Two, if you don't want to be here, you can say so. I told you, it has nothing to do with your job."

"No, I do want to be here. I'm really enjoying myself, actually."

"Good. I am too." That focused look again. A hunter zeroing on his prey. "Ready for dessert?"

The intensity of his gaze intimidated her. "Yes," she whispered. She cleared her throat and took another sip of wine. "Yes, please," she said in a stronger voice. She eyed her glass. She thought she'd drunk more than that, but the glass was more than half-full. A pleasant warmth was spreading through her.

"Chocolate mousse cake," he said, swapping out her dinner plate for the cake.

"Oh gosh." You couldn't go wrong with chocolate! "Oh my goodness. This is amazing." She couldn't stop smiling. What an interesting evening this was turning out to be. "So, Mr. - I mean, Conrad." She giggled. "You didn't tell me anything about yourself."

"True. And most people don't ask. Nothing terribly special. I own hotels." He grinned.

"Where are you from?"

"Right here. Los Angeles. I even went to UCLA. Go Bruins." He leaned forward and lowered his voice. "Actually, to be honest, I didn't care much about the sports one way or another."

More giggles. She wasn't usually this giddy. "How old are you?" More wine, to wash down the rich chocolate.

"I'm 31. I bought my first motel at 23. Impressed?"

"Motel? But this isn't a motel!"

"That's right. I've moved up in the world. I do still own a chain of motels, but they don't have my name on them."

"You're a lot older than me," she said. Her tongue was looser than usual too. "Wait, how much wine have I had?"

"Never been drunk before, eh?"

"I'm drunk?"

"No. But not far from it. You might want to stop."

"It's kinda nice."

He put his spoon down and stood up. "It is. But, you seem young and naïve and I'd feel terrible if you did something you didn't want to do because you didn't have your wits about you. You understand?" He came around the table to her and held out his hand. She put her hand in his and allowed him to help her up. The world tilted, then straightened.

"Whoa. I see what you mean."

"Come sit with me on the couch and let your head clear." He led her to the couch she'd been sitting on before and sat down beside her with his arm around her shoulders. "Now, sweet Lacey. What should we do next?"

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Certainly."

She didn't know why she asked, but he was so worldly and open, and it had been on her mind all day. "I saw a picture today, in a magazine in a guest room I was cleaning. And I don't understand it."

"What kind of picture?"

Her cheeks reddened. If it weren't for the wine, she'd never have been able to bring this up. He must have caught something in her expression, because he chuckled. "It was - I don't know. It was a naked woman, and she was tied up, and there was something in her butt, and a man was putting his penis in her mouth."

He squeezed her shoulder and drew her closer. "What did you think when you saw that picture?" he asked.

"I didn't like it. It was disgusting."

His arm slipped away, and he turned sideways to face her. "Why?"

"Because it was. I didn't want to see that. Do you think she liked what was happening to her?"

"I do. You don't think it might be fun?"

"To be tied up like that?"

"Yes."

"I don't think so."

"But you've never tried it. Some women find it very stimulating. They like the helplessness."

"I guess I wouldn't know," she said, turning her face away from him.

He put his hand on her knee. "Well, wouldn't you agree that as long as both people involved are consenting adults who trust each other, they should do whatever makes them feel good? I mean, this is 1994, not 1860!"

The lift she had gotten from the wine was starting to fade, but her head still felt foggy. She thought he must be insinuating something, but she didn't know for sure, and she didn't want to make a fool of herself. "I don't know. Some things just aren't right."

"Is that you talking, or your parents?"

How did he know? "What do you mean?"

"I think I've got a good read on you. You grew up in a very conservative home up there in your little town, and your parents tried to keep you safe by sheltering you and telling you all about the evils of the world." His hand inched up her thigh. She watched in fascination as his fingers approached the hem of her skirt. "Which is why you were so overwhelmed when you got to school and found out that people were doing all of those evil things all around you."

She bit her lip and nodded.

"Your parents weren't doing you any favors."

She backed away from him. "Um, Mr., um, Conrad. I think I'd better go now."

"Are you sure?" He scooched toward her and cupped her cheek. "It's not late. Do you work tomorrow?"

"No. But I don't - I don't -"

"You are so adorable," he murmured. "I understand. Do you need a ride? I can have my driver take you home."

"It's not far."

"Let me do this for you. Please. I'd feel better knowing you'd gotten home safely."

"Okay. Thank you."

"I'll walk you down." He made a phone call, asking for someone to bring his car around, and then accompanied her out of his office. In the elevator, she couldn't bring herself to meet his eyes. She was embarrassed, but she didn't know why. She was terribly uncomfortable, but also excited and very confused. "Lacey, would you have dinner with me again tomorrow night?"

"Tomorrow? I'm not here tomorrow."

"I know. I'll have my driver pick you up at 7:00. We'll go out this time, somewhere nice."

The elevator doors swished open. He led her out through the lobby to the front entrance, where a limo idled. The driver got out to open the car door for her. "Thank you for dinner," she said.

"Wait." He stepped in front of her and put his hand to her cheek again. "I'm sorry if I scared you." He leaned in and kissed her gently on the lips.

"You didn't scare me," she breathed. Her lips tingled. "Well, maybe a little." She tried to smile.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he said, and watched her get into the car.