The Messy Maiden (3 page)

Ian glanced at the plastic tub then back at her. “Some of us are going over the road to the bar after work; did you want to join us?”

The other secretary let out a squeak of disapproval. Jealous that she never got asked? Somehow Saskia had started on the wrong foot with her.

Usually the only guys who invited her to the pub after work were the ones who thought a temp would be an easy conquest. She should head straight home and start getting ready for work…but it didn’t take two hours to put on a wig and makeup.

She’d learned to say no politely. “I don’t want to intrude on an informal managers meeting.”

“It’s not just managers going. If you change your mind, we head over about 5:30.” He flashed her a smile that seemed so familiar then sauntered away.

There were plenty of reasons she shouldn’t go.

And only one reason why she should.

Ian.

Hmmm. Perhaps she was the one who needed the easy conquest.

Would he be easy? She was willing to have a glass of wine this evening to find out.

T
he bar
over the road was one of those inner city trendy places full of office workers. The men in black or grey suits and the women either in equally sharp suits or bright dresses. All of them in spiked heels. Her sensible low heels definitely didn’t belong here.

The people here were professionals and qualified. This was a mistake. Just when she was ready to back out and go home, someone waved. There was a cluster of familiar faces, and he hadn’t been lying. They weren’t all managers. However she was the only secretary.

At least she wasn’t the only woman.

She pasted on a smile. One drink. This was a four week job, practically a lifetime in temp work. Long enough that if she made a good impression they’d remember her. She’d certainly remember him.

“What can I get you?” Ian asked as she joined the group.

“That’s okay. I can get my own.”

“I’m on my way over anyway. We’re getting some snacks.”

Saskia pulled out a twenty dollar note. “For snacks and a glass of shiraz, thanks.” She smiled—the one she usually reserved for dazzling clients.

His eyes widened for a moment. Then he frowned as if he didn’t know what to say. Was he actually interested in her? Had he wanted to buy her a drink? A little flutter filled her chest. It had been too long between boyfriends, or even dates. At the back of her mind she knew she had to keep an eye on the clock. She couldn’t linger on if the evening started going well. Which was why she didn’t have any dates or a boyfriend. They conflicted with her clients and if they found out they got jealous.

“Is shiraz your favorite?” He held her gaze.

It was. She’d had a glass of it on camera and shared that detail…no. She refused to believe that Numbers and Ian were the same person. The odds were so tiny.

“Sometimes.” She pressed her lips together returning to her serious, prim smile.

He nodded. Then he took the offered money from her hand. “You didn’t have to chip in.”

She was sure that wasn’t what he wanted to say. Her heart was beating too hard and too fast. He was just flirting. She should be enjoying it instead of being paranoid.

She really needed to get out more and spend some time with real guys, not internet watchers.

But did she need a boyfriend?

Her friends spent most of their time griping about theirs. Moving too slow, moving too fast. No, she didn’t need a boyfriend but it would be nice to have one, even a casual one. Maybe what she actually needed was a friend with benefits arrangement.

The conversation swirled around her. She put in the occasional comment but for the most part they were talking work. Gradually it shifted to sports, family and plans for the weekend.

Ian looked at her. “What are you up to?”

“Oh, not a lot. A bit of gardening.” That was true. A bit of rain and a bit of sun and the weeds started to take over. “And I’m contemplating painting my bedroom.” The whole house was the same shade of cream. Great for the camera, but boring.

“Any color in particular?”

“Dunno, yet I might spend some time at the hardware store checking out paint samples. Maybe even some of those fancy finishes.” Something sparkly or shiny, maybe in green or blue…or orange. She had no idea but she needed a change. Maybe that was all she needed. A week off temping to redecorate the bits of her house that were never on camera.

“Don’t do the fancy finish. You’ll have to sand back the wall if you choose to repaint.” One of the other guys said.

“What about you?” Did he have any hot dates planned? She’d already checked his left hand for a wedding ring. She’d done that on Monday. She was so tragic.

He shook his head and sipped his beer. “No plans at the moment.”

But there was something in his eyes that suggested he’d very much like to make plans. That nervous flutter was back and spreading. If he asked her out she might just say yes, just for something different.

She leaned forward. “What do you do when you aren’t at work?”

“I usually go for a ride on the weekend.”

“Motorbike or pushbike?”

“Pushbike.”

She hadn’t ridden a bike since she was about fifteen.

“Sometimes he rides to work and we get to see him in riding get up.” One of the other women smiled at him. Ian didn’t seem to notice because he was looking at her.

“Seeing your boss in leggings.” The guy shook his head. “Not good.”

She wouldn’t mind seeing that at all. Not that she was going to admit that in front the others. It was kind of annoying that they were here. She almost wanted them to vanish so she could get to know Ian better.

That would go really well until he wanted to know why she was unavailable over the weekend when most people went on their dates.

The Messy Maiden was why she didn’t have a social life. The last guy she’d told—her boyfriend when she’d lost her real job and started the business—had called it cheating and told her to quit. She’d pulled out his porn magazines and he’d said that was different because he was man and that he didn’t want his girlfriend being seen by other men.

She’d chosen her business over him.

The other guys had all been short term and she’d never told them what she did.

Maybe she could have Ian for as long as the job lasted. A few weeks to scratch an itch with someone who was smart and handsome and apparently fit. Her fingers pressed against her wine glass as she imagined peeling his suit off.

Probably not the thoughts she should be having about him.

Some of the people went to get more drinks and somehow she ended up next to Ian. He was taller than her, but only by a few inches. Someone bumped into her and he put his hand on her lower back to steady her. Even through her shirt she felt the heat of the contact.

Lust had certainly bitten her on the ass.

He smiled. “We should do something.”

“I don’t ride.”

He watched her for a moment, and she became aware of how close they were standing. Did he not care what his co-workers thought?

She did. She put a little distance between them. “I don’t…” Don’t what? Date on the job. He hadn’t suggested a date. Shit. What did she say?

He lifted one eyebrow and one side of his mouth quirked up at the corner as if he was very aware that she’d just stumbled.

There was no graceful recovery only the desperate departure before she made a bigger error. “I should get going. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

She walked away from the table her cheeks hot. Men didn’t fluster her. She flustered them, kept them on a string and wanting more as she milked their credit cards and they enjoyed it.

Ian had somehow flipped the table on her and as much as she liked him, she didn’t like that. It made her feel vulnerable and she had secrets she had to keep.

I
an watched her walk away
, hips swinging until she was lost in the press of workers starting their weekend early. Someone spoke to him and he glanced at his colleagues. He didn’t want to be here with them. He wanted to be somewhere with her and he’d just managed to make her feel uncomfortable enough that she felt she needed to run.

That hadn’t been his plan. Had he misread the signs?

Was she shy about flirting around other people?

Had they actually been flirting?

“I’ll be back in a minute.” He left before anyone could stop him. He didn’t care if they knew he was into the temp.

But she might care. Maybe she didn’t date co-workers. Was that what she’d been going to say? He slowed as he cut his way through the crowd, and almost turned back, then he saw her slip out the door and turn left. He’d give this one proper shot. If she shot him down, game over. He could accept that and suffer through a couple of awkward weeks at the office.

Once he’d cleared the bar he was able to speed up. “Saskia, wait up.”

She stopped and he jogged the last couple of meters. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable in front of the others.”

She gave him a tight smile. “There’s a reason that I don’t make friends and hang out after work. I leave and move on to the next job.”

“You don’t leave the city though.”

“No,” she said slowly as she studied him. What was she hoping to see?

What did he want her to see? The man he was at work, the front he put on so women didn’t learn what he really liked. For a moment in the bar he’d been sure it was her. The smile, the scent of lasagna at her desk, the shiraz…but now he wasn’t sure again. She was prickly as if she didn’t want him to get to know her.

Because she also had secrets?

God, he hoped so.

“I’d like to get to know you…could we do lunch next week?” He knew he had nothing on his calendar on Wednesday. He’d checked. Lunch was low key and had a time limit. He liked lunch dates for the first date for that reason. If they couldn’t think of something to talk about over lunch for an hour then there was no point in going further.

Her eyebrows lowered as she frowned. “Do you always hit on the temps?”

“What? No.” Oh, she though he was that kind of guy. She must have run into them before. And he suddenly understood her reluctance. Would she file a harassment claim? He’d let himself get caught up in a fantasy that couldn’t be and had now overstepped lines that he wouldn’t usually cross. “Don’t worry. My mistake. It won’t happen again.” He stepped back.

“So you actually wanted to have lunch?” One eyebrow lifted.

“Did you want to have lunch with me?”

Her gaze roamed over him as though she was carefully considering all of the possible implications.

So was he. Was he actually interested in her or just because she sounded like the woman on the other side of the webcam? He doubted Saskia would appreciate the connection. She was still watching him.

“If you say no, I’ll never mention it again.” He put his hands out, palm up and took another step back.

The line he was walking got finer. He knew he was thinking with his dick, he had been since he’d first heard her voice. But he wasn’t stupid it enough to risk everything. If she really didn’t want to have lunch, if she was wasn’t interested. Fine.

She nodded slowly. “I haven’t gone on a…out for lunch in ages.”

He noticed that she’d almost called it a date again. There was definitely something between them, not just his imagination. “Me either.”

She raised that eyebrow as though she thought that was impossible. “So we can share stories about why we don’t do lunch over lunch?”

“Maybe. Or you could tell me what color you picked for your room and I’ll tell you about my ride.”

Her lips twitched in a small almost mischievous smile. “I’ll think about it. Got a day in mind?”

“Yes. I’ll check your calendar and make a meeting request.” That way if she declined she didn’t have to do it to his face.

“Okay.” She gave him a slight nod. “Have a nice weekend.

“You too.”

They both hesitated as if unwilling to be the first one to leave, then she took a step back and turned. He watched for a few more seconds, willing her to turn around. Then she glanced over her shoulder and waved. The smile on her lips was the one he was used to seeing online.

He shivered.

Even Saskia wasn’t the Messy Maiden he wanted to get to know her.

It had been a long time since any woman had made him want to take the chance and jump back into the shark infested water of the dating pool. He hoped that this time he wouldn’t get bitten.

S
askia checked
the lighting and the view of the camera. She’d learned the best times of day to get good natural light. The bedroom light cast odd shadows and didn’t look right. That said, the sheer curtains were drawn closed so no one could look in. The result was a nice diffused light.

White sheets were on the bed, along with a few pillows. She wanted it to look like her bedroom. There was a bedside table and nightlight and always a couple of erotic romance novels with randomly placed book marks that she changed on a regular basis in case someone was looking for clue that this was a set. There was even a print on the wall of a few naked women bathing.

The room looked lived in. Sometimes she even left a sexy nighty in view. But not today. This was going to be one hell of a mess.

Fortunately beneath the white sheets was a plastic mattress protector. The chocolate cheese cake sat innocently in the middle of the bed. She’d taken it out of the box as she doubted the chain cake store would appreciate what she was about to do to the cake.

No doubt the middle aged woman who’d sold it to her had thought she was taking it to a barbeque or a friend’s dinner or something else equally prosaic. She placed the bottle of chocolate topping on the bed.

Out of frame was a rubbish bag and a charcoal colored towel that she could wrap around herself so she didn’t make more mess when she made a run for the bathroom. She’d learned that the hard way. Food had a tendency to slide off and drop on the carpet. The towel she’d rinse in the shower before tossing it through the machine. From experience she knew the sheets would only be good for the bin.

There was no way she was spending the afternoon scraping cake and chocolate off the sheets to try and save them. Besides, they were cheap and they were a tax deduction.

Her lips twisted into a grin. What would Ian say about that? She knew he wasn’t a tax accountant, but she had no doubt that he’d be wondering what she did if she got to claim bed sheets on her tax. Her actual accountant had been dubious at first until she handed over the bank statements that were her proof of income. Fortunately the woman hadn’t been interested in checking out her site beyond the home page.

Or at least nothing more had been said.

She gave the room a final check. These days she was organized and knew exactly what to do to get a good video. Her first attempts had been terrible and were no longer available to view.

Her gaze landed on the cheesecake. That was going to be cold. This time there was nothing she could do about it. Sometimes she could get away with warming up the food. She’d learned the hard way that baked beans needed to be heated—a rookie error that she’d never made again. She’d also done her first few videos in the bathroom thinking it would be easier, but it was hard to make food sexy in there.

Nope, the bedroom was definitely better.

With a final glance at her makeup she stripped off the robe and adjusted her bikini. Cheesecake was pale so she’d gone for black today—plus she’d be able to wash it and reuse it. She tried not to be too wasteful.

But she also tried not to wear the same clothes too many times. No one wanted to see the same lingerie week in week out, and her lingerie didn’t stay looking good for long. Not everything came out in the wash.

She blew out a breath, turned on her smile and then the camera. She’d edit out her walk to the bed later. She always checked and edited her videos as she didn’t want anything popping out of her bikini and getting flashed to her subscribers. Learning how to edit had been an exercise in frustration, but she’d got there.

With a smile plastered on she settled on the bed, acting as though she was perfectly at ease and this was her favorite thing to do. Nerves bounced in her stomach. Every time. It wasn’t as if this was going live and yet she still got anxious. What if this was the one that killed her career? Was this the one where the men saw through the act and realized that she didn’t actually enjoy food the way they did?

She widened her smile and dipped her finger into the cake. “Home alone with an entire chocolate cheese cake?” She licked her finger, slowly—it tasted pretty good. Thank you, Numbers101, for the suggestion. “What’s a girl to do?”

“I bet you could think of a few things…” she dragged her finger through the cream on top of the cake in a swirl and hoped that she was looking sexy and seductive.

She had no idea how long each video would go for, generally until she was satisfied that she was wearing enough food and that she’d made a big enough mess. She was getting paid well and she didn’t want her subscribers to think she was screwing them over. It was never as easy as just splatting onto the cheese cake. Besides she didn’t want splatter hitting the walls or carpets.

While this might have been a special request, she didn’t say that as that would put off other guys to know she was fulfilling someone else’s fantasy. Plus she didn’t want to open up the doors for lots of requests. She didn’t know why she’d decided that she’d do this, maybe it was because Numbers101 had been nice instead of a leering tool.

As she smeared cheese cake across her chest and dipped into her cleavage she remembered his smile and the way he talked—and the obvious voice disguiser. She liked Ian’s voice. She closed her eyes as if in ecstasy and licked her finger. The cake was really good.

There was something about Ian that made her think of Numbers and vice versa.

Why would a man hide his eyes unless he had something to hide?

She moved and rolled her spine, her breasts dragged though the cake. Her nipples peaked as the cold cheesecake clung to her skin. She didn’t have to fake the gasp. She rocked back on her heels and cupped her breasts. If they’d been bigger she’d have been able to lick the cake off them.

No one had ever complained about that. Cheesecake squished between her fingers and dropped onto the bed. She gave her hand an enthusiastic lick and then let her hand skim down her body, spreading the mess further.

If Ian knew, was he planning to ask her about it over lunch? Hoping to corner her? And what? He had far more to lose than she did. He was a manager. No…she had to be wrong. She thought she wanted to be wrong. Because she wasn’t sure she wanted to date a man whose idea of fun, sexy times involved chocolate cheese cake.

No matter how good it tasted.

She inched forward, knees spread and lowered herself onto the cake. Eyelids carefully lowered, lips parted. As she sat the cake squished and oozed onto her skin. She wiggled sinking deeper. She was going to be washing cheesecake out of bits of her that shouldn’t get cheese cake in them.

A moan escaped as she rotated her hips….then she picked up the topping and flicked open the lid. “I need a little more.”

She arched her back as she squirted the sauce onto her cleavage. With her other hand she caught a little of the topping and brought it to her lips. She gave the camera another moan.

She could fake pleasure.

But it would be nice to have some actual pleasure in her life…maybe she should agree to lunch.

B
y the time
she’d cleaned up, showered and was sitting down in a pair of yoga pants and an old t-shirt—the epitome of sexy splosher goddess—to edit the clip, she was reconsidering her sugar induced madness. Going to lunch with Ian would be a big mistake.

Sharing this part of her life would be all kinds of horrifying. She had lived the horror once and had no desire to do it again. But a tiny part of her knew that it didn’t have to get that serious. They could date and have sex and as long as she maintained her other commitments it would be fine.

Now that she’d thought about the possibility of getting laid, even on a casual basis, her body was keen to try.

She wanted, no she needed, a life beyond the webcam. After one final watch of the clip she’d spent the afternoon working on, she posted it. There’d be people waiting for it to go live. Her dead keen subscribers no doubt had a box of tissues at the ready.

She seriously needed to date a real guy, even if it was just once. Maybe twice…then she could hit him up for sex. From the look in Ian’s eyes she was pretty sure that he was keen on getting naked. She smiled at the memory. The heat and intensity had freaked her out, that he’d then acted on it and asked her out…she shivered and sighed. Not with cold, but longing.

She couldn’t remember the last guy to look at her like that.

As she sat there she was able to see how many times the video was viewed. Some would watch it multiple times over the next few hours. She’d stopped puzzling over the why when she’d started making more money doing this than she did in her real job.

Instead she sat there and shook her head, but stayed because some people would message her. Some she answered.

Those that wrote
you made me come so hard
or worse got no response.

The men that were polite did get a response.

It had been one of the guys who’d suggested the change in lighting. Whoever he was he knew something about filming or photography.

Numbers101 came on line. It was a moment before he typed his comment. Saskia found herself holding her breath.
Please don’t be creepy.

I’ll never look at cheesecake the same way again.

It was your idea.

I know. And I regret nothing. Thank you for doing that.

She smiled and typed.
My pleasure.

And for a change she did feel happy. He hadn’t made what she’d done weird. If everyone could be as nice she’d do special requests more often.

Do you do live sploshing?

You watched me in the kitchen.

But she knew that wasn’t where he was hoping to take this. He wanted something more from her. Did he understand the effort that went into her videos? No, because she made it look like spontaneous fun. Like she just happened to feel like getting kinky with food for strangers. She sighed.

I was hoping for something more.

The words seemed stark on the chat screen. Her stomach fell. What could she say?

That’ll cost more.

Now she sounded less like the woman next door and more like a hooker with her hand in the john’s pocket. She hated that feeling. And for a moment she hated him for making her feel like that.

That’s fine.

Could she raise price enough that he’d back down? She considered it for a moment before typing.
Equivalent to 2 hrs live chat for every 30 mins. First 30 mins deposited before we start.

It was several moments before he typed again.
Next Friday?

Saskia sighed, he really wanted to see it live. Maybe he didn’t get out much. Was this the next step in her business? Taking live sploshing requests? No, she wasn’t going to do it. Couldn’t. But how was it really that different to doing her legs live? It wouldn’t be, except it would be one on one and usually her individual chats were just that, a chat, even though she’d still be made up and dressed for the occasion.

Sure. Any special requests?

Dessert. You pick.

Then he was gone. While she’d been chatting to him several other messages had come in. Eww including a video of what she’d done to one guy and a message about how much better his cum would look on her instead of cheesecake. Suddenly Numbers101 looked like a saint.

I
an started
at the blank screen of his computer for a moment. It was easier to make a date with the Messy Maiden than it was with Saskia. He wasn’t sure he liked what that said about him. That the cheesecake video had made him achingly hard was another nail in the coffin of his respectability.

Maybe Saskia was right to want to avoid him.

His ex-fiancée’s words echoed.

“You are a pervert. When you take me out to dinner you’re more interested in the food than me. Don’t touch me. God, I let you use whipped cream on me. If I’d have known I was feeding your….just leave.” She’d thrown the ring at him.

He hadn’t bothered to pick it up off the floor. He’d just left. Later he’d gone back to get his things. He’d taken his name off the lease. And they’d gone their separate ways. He’d claimed it was mutual. He had no idea what she’d said. Obviously not the truth though as nothing had got back to him through mutual friends.

He’d been with her for three years. She hadn’t freaked out with any of the small things so he’d felt save enough to trust her with the true extent. He couldn’t have been more wrong. His erection wilted at the memory. Remembering that argument was a sure fire way to get his lust under control.

Since that day he’d told no one.

It wasn’t as though he
needed
food involved to get off, but he
did
like it. He liked the mess, the intimacy of putting it on and licking it off. He wanted to be able to try stuff.

His reflection stared back at him in the darkened screen. With his sunglasses on in the dark room he looked like a weirdo.

Did the Messy Maiden think her clients were odd? If she did, she hid it well. But then why would she damage her own business? Just because she looked like she was enjoying herself didn’t mean that she was. He took the glasses off and placed them next to the computer.

He shouldn’t be escalating the online behavior. He needed other interests. He needed to get a life. And he was trying. He had tried to arrange a date—with a woman who sounded just like his ideal fantasy woman—in the real world. Saskia didn’t need to know. Hell, she hadn’t even accepted yet.

He wasn’t even sure he wanted her to.

As much as he liked her he couldn’t determine if he liked her because of who she was or because of who she sounded like. He shouldn’t be bringing his two worlds closer. If they ever touched, he was pretty sure both would implode and he’d be left with nothing but ashes.

Usually he loved new video night. Tonight should’ve been extra special because she’d fulfilled his request, and it had been better than he’d even imagined. And he was going to get a live video.

But it wasn’t a live video that he wanted.

He wanted the reality.