The Debt

16) Distractions

We stepped into the elevator.

I still can't believe they have a freaking elevator.

There was borderline awkward silence for a little while, but then The Boss spoke up. "From now on you have my permission to beat the ever living shit out of anyone other than myself who lays a hand on you. Got it?"

I couldn't hold back the chuckle about how she specified that the rule excluded herself. "Got it. But what if I can't?" I asked.

"Lemme know. I'll do it for you."

Aw, how protective. . . In a demented and possessive way.

I nodded back, not knowing if I should thank her or not. I figured I'm better safe than sorry. "Thanks."

"Of course. I already told you, I don't like people touching my things."

  Of course she had to go and make it weird with the objectification.

  Eventually, the elevator binged and she stepped out onto the floor, but in a different area than I've ever seen before.

We took a single turn and were suddenly face to face with her grand office doors.

I looked around.

How did we even get here?

I don't understand the layout of this place at all.

——————

The whole rest of the day went by without her ordering me to lick her shoes clean or strip for her entertainment.

She did make me kneel while she hand fed me lunch like a damn dog, but I still call it a win.

Eventually we stopped running around. Thank god, it was getting the point my feet felt like they were going to fall off in these damn heels. She put down her mountain of paperwork, and we headed to her meeting.

I plopped down in the roomy back seat of the luxurious looking black car. The back is completely separated from the front by a privacy blinder. I wondered for a second how the driver could see behind him without his back window, but then remembered cameras were a thing and felt stupid.

And no, I can't tell you the make or model of this car, so don't ask. All I know is that it looks expensive.

I ran my hands along the soft leather of the seats absentmindedly. The Boss got in on the other side, and we took off, the nerves just now sinking in about where we are headed.

What if I mess this up?

What if I accidentally do something she doesn't like?

What if I —

She placed her hand on my thigh and my thoughts froze.

Have I already messed up?

"What are you thinking about?" She asked me, her tone not giving anything away.

I swallowed. "I just don't wanna mess up, ma'am."

"We're alone, Sunshine."

I glanced at the front seat behind the blinder and back at her.

"He can't hear us," she informed.

"Sorry Mistress," I corrected, trying to keep the disdain I have for that word out of my voice.

She nodded. "Better. Now tell me again what you're thinking about."

I took a deep breath to try and replace the anxiety with oxygen. "I really don't want to make a mistake tonight, Mistress."