2: The Client
Jasmine
The air outside was cool, indicating that autumn was near. My short pencil skirt was also not any help and soon, the skin on my legs began to form goosebumps. I was just about to leave the restaurant I was in, tired from the hectic day at work and tired of the person I was meeting always being late. However, just as I was about to pick up my bag and leave the table, my awaited guest arrived. He walked with long, soft strides and took a seat in front of me, wearing a dazzling smile.
"You have a client tonight." He said, skipping the formalities.
I echoed his behaviour, as always, with a short, "Details, George."
The well-kept, green-eyed, brown-haired young man scratched around in his blazer which hugged his impressive body, and then handed an envelope to me.
"Address is on the request. You are expected to arrive at 8 sharp. Your client is a well-known businessman. His name is anonymous." George then hesitated for an instant and a flash of concern danced across his eyes for a second.
"There's something you're not telling me?" I questioned. I should have known then already that the whole thing was a disaster waiting to happen.
George then sighed and scratched at his soft, neatly cut brown hair. "This request was not made by the client. It was made by a friend of his as a surprise."
I hated these kinds of appointments, but I was curious as to why I was chosen, given that we had many other Vixens on standby.
"Because you're the only one who could possibly pull off something like this." He began. "You've done tons of these before. And besides, little plain Jane, you're one of our greatest seductresses."
I looked up at him, picking up the hidden insult in his "compliment" and gave him a punch on the shoulder and a disapproving look. He questioned me regarding my slight violent outburst and was about to say something else, when the waitress arrived with the bill.
"Well, that's my cue. You'll get the bill for me, won't you?" I asked.
I did not even wait for a reply before I stomped off, still angry at his little insult towards my current appearance. It was not my fault that Jasmine had to be this incredibly plain. In my line of work, being able to be invisible was vital, hence the job, clothes and personality.
My apartment was small and cluttered, but I didn’t mind because it was the first thing I had ever owned without his help. As soon as I made it inside, I read the note within the envelope hurriedly. The address was situated in a well-known, extremely exclusive rich community. It was so exclusive that at the bottom of the note was the name of the person who had requested me. I assumed that I’d need his name to get into the place. Honestly, it seemed like a lot of trouble, but the client's friend was offering a truckload of money, something I desperately needed. I however hated money like this- money which came from him. He found me when I had nothing and no one. He was the person who’s given me this task of becoming a Vixen. People always said, "don't ever make deals with the devil," but I was too young and alone to realise that the man before me was no saviour.
Once I was sure of where I was headed to tonight, I got to undressing and washing up. I then slipped on a pair of black lingerie from an exclusive, and very expensive collection I hid all the way at the bottom of my cupboard. It was especially revealing in way too many places. Degrading, yes, but choices were a luxury I did not yet possess.
I then paired my "outfit" with a pair of shiny black heels, tied a pair of cuffs to my underwear strap, cloaked myself in a coat, and then grabbed a bag in which I stuffed a black fox mask and a whip.
Now don't get me wrong, cuffs and whips were really kinky, and some clients were into that kind of kinky stuff, but I also preferred carrying these items on me for those eager clients. In my line of work, there was no such thing as a knight in shining armour waiting to save anyone. I worked in the shadows, in the depths of desire and lustful hunger, and I needed to be prepared for anything. And honestly at this point I thought I was prepared for any and everything. But I could never have been more wrong.
After I was content with my clothing, I moved towards the mirror. For a moment I just analysed myself and let out a little laugh. Dressed in a black coat and completely bare of any makeup, I really did look plain, with shoulder length black hair and light bangs to frame my face. My eyes were icy blue against my pale skin which was probably the only thing striking about me. The icy windows to my soul. After a few more glances, I got to work, placing some red lipstick on my lips, mascara on my lashes and eyeliner on my lower eyelid. Once I was done, I gave a deep, sadistic, shiver-inducing smile. This was the other me, not Jasmine Spectra, lowly accountant, but Jasmine the Vixen, the dominatrix.
"There is no place for innocence in this world, little fox." I whispered to myself.
"My darling Vixen!" George exclaimed happily as he ushered me into his car. The poor errand boy.
"Thanks George." I muttered under my breath and then entered the black vehicle.
During the drive to the client's home, I could not help but wonder about him. This would be a complete surprise encounter, meaning that I had to be on my A-game, so as to not spook him. The last thing I wanted was all this effort and no money in return. Fuck, how the hell was I actually going to do this? It was then that I really wished more than anything that I had actually been given more background details- his weaknesses, his preferences, kinks- anything. Instead, all I had was an address and the name of the man who’d arranged all of this.
I kept on ranting and raving so much that I had not even noticed that the vehicle had stopped and that we had almost arrived at our destination. All that stood in our way now, was a large gate and a very large, heavily muscled man who walked up to the black car with a deep scowl. His face was covered in grisly scars, and he stood with his large arms folded tightly in front of him.
"What is your business here?" He asked with a deep, fearful voice.
George turned toward me and asked for the name on the request. Once I had given it to him, he turned back toward the man and said, "We are here on request of Landon Wood."
The man then dug in his pocket, took out his cell phone and began to call Landon, I assumed. After a few exchanges, he put the phone away and said, "You may enter."
The gate opened and we began to drive in. The "security guard", however, never let his eyes leave mine. He was practically staring into my soul, as if trying to figure me out. It was unnerving, to say the least, and I soon turned around to avoid his glance. After a few more turns, George finally stopped the car and said, "This is your stop, my delectable Vixen."
I exited the car after placing my mask on my face and took in a deep breath as I stared at the house in front of me. It was a beautiful, three-story mansion with a modern, yet vintage feel to it. Gorgeous wolf- like sculptures were placed systematically to the side of an intricate silver stone path which led to the entrance of the house. George walked with me toward the large, metal gate which enclosed the yard together with the intricate silver fence. Next to the gate, was a voice box. George tapped the silver button and then began to speak.
"Hello, I have brought the Vixen requested by Mr Wood for his friend living here."
We waited exactly five minutes, and within those five minutes I took a glance around the neighbourhood. There was something unsettlingly strange about it. Despite it not being so late in the evening, there was hardly any movement in any home. The only indication of residents living within the glamorous homes were the few lights which glowed through curtains and windows. My analysis, was however, cut short as the gate opened. George smiled at me and beckoned for me to enter as he waited outside to make sure I got through those wooden doors at the end of the stone path and up the white patio steps, safely. Once I had made it to the doors, they began opening slightly, as though the person opening them had watched me through the window and made sure only to open at the exact time I had arrived. Immense yellow light poured from the cracks of the open door, and soon I saw a well-dressed man who stood there and greeted me the second his kind, wrinkled eyes made contact with my icy ones. The butler, clearly.
"Ah, can I get your coat, Miss?" He asked as he stepped to the side and held out a hand for me to enter. He seemed so kind and well-mannered, which was ironic, seeing as he was allowing someone like me into this beautiful home.
"I don't think you want to do that, Sir." I said politely as I entered and glanced around the well-lit, squeaky clean and extremely fancy home.
"Right, come this way." He said shutting the door gently behind me and leading me up a white staircase which had an opalistic glint in the light of the bright crystal chandelier which hung perfectly above the flight of stairs.
"The master is in the study. I will give you the directions and then take my leave for the night." He said kindly.
Once we arrived at the top of the staircase, the kind man said, "I leave you here. Please turn right to enter the passage. You will find him in the third room. Good luck, my lady. If he kicks you out, you have my sincere apologies regarding his bad manners."
"K-kick me out?" I stuttered. "Has this happened before?" The butler nodded curtly and then went on to briefly explain. Apparently, my client had a knack for kicking female visitors out. That just made my nerves skyrocket. First, my visit was a secret from my client, now, my client was also apparently not interested in sexual advances. Great...
I walked slowly down the hallway, making sure to step carefully and quietly in my heels. I soon found the door leading to the client's office.
Deep breath.
I slowly turned the doorknob, completely unaware of how the next few moments would change everything.