Serving Mr. Stevens, Part Two: Lover's Complaint -- An Erotic Romance (Part 2 of 5) Read Free

seats, so I had to pull it open to speak to him. “Carl, this is wonderful!” I said. “Thank you so much!”
     
    He looked up into the rearview mirror and smiled as he pulled the car into gear. “Oh, it’s nothing,” he said. “Just a little something to make you more comfortable. And miss, if you need anything else, please don’t hesitate to ask. Tommy’s given me express instructions to make sure your every desire is taken care of.”
     
    I grinned. “Did he, now.” As I took in my luxurious surroundings, I realized this was a perfect opportunity to try and find out more about the man who’d been such a mystery to me. “So… why do you call him Tommy?” I asked, with no attempt to hide my curiosity. “Everyone else calls him Mr. Stevens – even me.” Except when I’m calling him ‘sir,’ I thought to myself with a blush.
     
    Carl laughed. “Oh, I’ve known Tommy since he was a boy,” he said. “I’ve been driving his family around since before he could talk. I know he’s got a reputation for intimidating people, and believe me, I’ve seen him lose his temper. But when you know someone for as long as I’ve known Tommy, there’s not a whole lot they can say to scare you.” He winked conspiratorially into the mirror, as if what he’d just shared was our little secret.
     
    “So… you knew his family,” I said. Now my interest was really piqued. “What were his parents like?” I leaned forward in my seat, eager to press him for more information.
     
    At this question, Carl’s face lit up. “They were extraordinary, ” he began. But as soon as he spoke, his face seemed to fall a bit, like he’d been struck by a painful memory. “But that’s a sad story,” he said, and trailed off, looking out his driver’s side window to the ice-blue sky above. He seemed unsure of whether to say more. His eyes flitted back to me, then he settled them straight ahead on the road. I knew in my gut that if I didn’t press him now, I might never get the answers I wanted.
     
    “Please, Carl,” I implored him. “You can tell me.”
     
    He sighed. “It’s too nice a morning to be talking about the past. But all right, I’ll tell you a little bit. You deserve to know, I suppose.” He heaved his shoulders back as if shrugging off an enormous weight, and began to speak.
     
    “The Stevens family’s been in business for generations, going way back to the nineteenth century. They’ve had their hand in everything: textiles, shipping, financials, you name it. During World War Two they even bought up a few pharmaceutical factories, supplying medicine kits to our boys overseas.” He chuckled. “There was a time in this country when the Stevens name carried as much weight as the Vanderbilts. But all that changed when Tommy’s father got sick.”
     
    He paused for a long moment, reflecting on times gone by. I wanted to urge him to go on, but I sensed it was best to remain silent. I hardly dared to breathe, for fear I’d disrupt the moment. Finally, he continued.
     
    “You see, Tommy’s father – Harvey Stevens, god rest his soul – had a business partner, a friend since childhood. Pete Kearns, his name was. Harvey and Pete, they were inseparable. They did everything together; all the company decisions, they made together. It was always the Stevens name on the company, but Kearns was the behind-the-scenes guy. He had as much to do with operations as anyone else.”
     
    He frowned and scratched his whiskers, like he had a bad taste in his mouth. “But when Tommy’s dad got sick, this guy Kearns made a power grab. He was sneaky about it, too – tried to go behind Stevens’ back and get the other board members to vote him into the president’s seat. What a bunch of snakes they were, all of them. But at the last minute, one of the board members told Tommy’s mother Sandra about the scheme. I remember it like it was yesterday – she jumped into the car and I drove her straight to the Stevens