Temptation - Leigh Lennon Page 0,13
because I don’t know her super well, I give her the benefit of the doubt that she’s not being sassy.
Pulling the door all the way back, I walk into her personal dressing room. These women are not strippers. They are the first line everyone sees, regardless if they are down in the dungeon, in our restaurant, or a hostess at the entrance of the club. Because the basement of this mansion has a parking area in the back, people who come strictly to play enter through the dungeon. All those coming through the main doors upstairs must adhere to a strict dress code.
I see all her outfits hanging up in a small closet with no doors. I walk over to look at her play clothes for the dungeon. “Ah, Taya picked out the perfect items for you.” There’s a black one-piece that looks like a catsuit teddy with a matching garter belt and hose. I need to see her in it. The other is a leather skirt and black corset top. And of course, Taya selected a little bit less of a provocative leather dress in case I want to have dinner with her in the restaurant.
“Ah, I love these. Do me a favor and take this into your bathroom for me.” I hand her the catsuit-looking number. “I’d like to see you in this now.”
Her hands find their way to her hips. Fuck, she’s cute. “And you think you have a choice in this. I’m telling you, I just want to make sure you’re ready. And listen, Evelyn, I’m three seconds away from putting you over my knee.”
Her hands leave her hips. Pulling at the outfit I’ve given her, she looks at the items and back at me. “Where is the rest of it?”
Now, I let her see my humor, first and foremost. “This is all there is to it, Ms. Lipton.” I wave my hand, gesturing to her bathroom. “Unless you’d like to get dressed out here.”
Sulking away, she gently takes her outfit and locks the door behind her. “I’m not going to barge in, Evelyn,” I add, sitting in the one chair in the room in front of her vanity. Glad to see she has both club makeup and work makeup.
I’m particular what my employees wear in my club. Down to the underwear, shoes, hose, and sure as fuck even the makeup. I don’t want my employees looking like Bozo. My subs, I love with makeup on—but just not clown status.
The lock unclicks, and she scurries out, covering the cleavage spilling over in her catsuit teddy number and looking edible with red heels to complete the outfit. I internally chat with the other part of my body who has a head, too, telling him silently to behave. But shit and fuck, this girl. Her arms are toned but not like she could out bench me. I’ve already talked about her tits—how they spill over—and her hips, the curves, making her waist look as if it’s so slender that my hands could touch if I place them on her. And though she’s on the shorter side, with her red heels, her legs call for me—telling me they were made to wrap around my body.
“Evelyn, though you aren’t my sub, you’re still my employee. You won’t cover yourself in my presence because hell, you’re stunning in this getup.” Her eyes stare at me, and I swear she’s silently challenging me. “Drop your fucking arms.” She obeys instantly but slaps them down with a huff as if she’s a fucking four-year-old.
“Come here,” I demand in a controlled tone. She stands still. Pointing at her and then the space between us, I begin again. “Don’t fuck with me, Evelyn. Come here.”
“Please, Sir, I’m sorry, Sir.” Her eyes drop from my own, and I do the one thing I’ve never done with a sub or my employee—give them a second chance.
“Okay, Eve, but no more warnings. Next time, you will be spread over my lap.” Dropping her chin and raising her eyes, she nods her head in understanding.
“Thank you, Sir.”
I move a stool in front of me, and pat it, instructing her to come to me. “Come sit, I’d like to chat with you.”
“May I change first, Sir?”
Hmm, this is an interesting question. Yep, I fucking know the answer before it rolls off my tongue. “No, now sit.”
She sits and, at first, attempts to use her hands to cover her tits, but when I narrow my gaze her way, she drops them