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

into a long gravel driveway under a wrought-iron gate.
     
    As we pulled up to the main entrance, the front door swung open. Mr. Stevens stepped out of the building, dressed in a gray tweed blazer and matching slacks. He showed none of the anger he’d displayed earlier on the phone; on the contrary, he looked to be in a great mood for once. His dark hair fell in curls around his face, and I could see just a hint of stubble on his cheeks, offsetting his neatly trimmed goatee. I’d forgotten how handsome he was.
     
    Suddenly, all my fear completely dissipated, chased away by that butterflies-in-the-stomach feeling I had every time I saw him. I felt myself smiling – grinning like an idiot is more like it , I thought to myself. When we locked eyes, it was like an electric spark passed between us. Nothing else mattered. All I wanted was to jump into his arms and attack him with kisses. But I couldn’t do that just yet.
     
    He tore his eyes away from mine and fixed them on Carl’s. His face darkened in a scowl. Without breaking stride, he swung open the driver’s door before we’d even come to a full stop.
     
    “You’re late,” he said to Carl. “What happened?”
     
    “Sorry, boss,” said Carl sheepishly. “Her doorbell was busted. Nothing I could do about it.”
     
    Mr. Stevens glanced at me for a split-second, but then shot his eyes immediately back to Carl’s whiskered face. “Nothing you could do? ” he seethed, in a voice that seemed to hold more anger in it than if it had been a scream of rage.
     
    But for the moment, at least, he kept his temper.
     
    “No matter,” he said. “I’ve more important things to take care of than scolding you for a job done improperly.” He waved his hand dismissively. “See that it doesn’t happen again.”
    “Yes, sir,” Carl replied, nodding in deference.
     
    Mr. Stevens turned again to face me, his eyes narrowing into enigmatic slits. Again I had the distinct, unsettling impression that he could read my thoughts. I hoped he could, actually; at the moment, I was thinking about tearing his clothes off and putting my hands on his naked body. I stared back at him, alluringly pursing my lips a bit. But if he’d picked up on my flirtatious vibes, he wasn’t showing it on his face.
     
    “Get inside,” he commanded me, a stern look on his face. “We have some unfinished business to attend to.” When he said that, he flashed the slightest hint of a half-smile.
     
    His words made me blush. You don’t need to tell me twice, I thought to myself. I smiled back at him coyly. “Certainly, sir,” I replied, and stepped lightly into the foyer.

Chapter 3: Stevens Manor
     
    Crossing the threshold of his doorway was like stepping into another world. It seemed a universe apart from the hustle and bustle of downtown Manhattan. This was a castle, tucked away into the woods, hearkening back the old stories of brave knights, fair maidens and mystical wizardry. My eyes didn’t know what to take in first: the exquisite tapestries lining the walls, the dazzling chandelier above my head, or the ornate wrought-iron sconces lining the walls. I couldn’t help but suck in my breath as I traversed the long stone entryway. I was totally overwhelmed by it.
     
    “This place is… beautiful,” I said, turning to Mr. Stevens. He chuckled, stepping closer to me and taking my arms in his hands.
     
    “Fit for a queen, is it?” he teased. “I thought you might like it. My apologies for the change of scenery today; a pressing matter came to my attention this morning, and I was needed here at the manor.” He began walking down the hallway, leading me by the hand. “Contrary to what you might think, this place was only built in 1900. It was the style at the time – neo-Gothic, Renaissance revival, call it what you will. I call it a bunch of rich old men playing make-believe. But no matter.” We arrived at a tall wooden doorway, and Mr. Stevens pushed it open. “This will be