Excessica Anthology BOX SET Winter (18 page)

I don’t know.”
Jo wriggled between the two of us, happily. “What do you think, Laura?”

She was offering
it to me, the choice. Somehow that made it feel as if we truly were a
partnership now. “Oh, I reckon…room service, maybe a hot bath, some more time
in bed…stay out of the snow a while longer. Sound good?”

“Perfect,” they
both said, in unison.

Their attention
was on me.

It didn’t matter
whether the city was gridlocked or not any more. The trains could freeze to the
rails for all I cared. Right here in this room all my dreams were coming true,
and there was so much more to discover.

The night was
young, and I wanted it all!

About Saskia
Walker

Saskia Walker is an award-winning British author of
erotic fiction. Her short stories and novellas have appeared in over sixty
international anthologies including BEST WOMEN’S EROTICA, THE MAMMOTH BOOK OF
BEST NEW EROTICA, SECRETS, and WICKED WORDS. Her erotica has also been featured
in several international magazines including PENTHOUSE, BUST, and SCARLET.
After writing shorts for several years Saskia moved into novel-length projects.
Her erotic single titles include ALONG FOR THE RIDE, DOUBLE DARE, RECKLESS, and
RAMPANT. Fascinated with seduction, Saskia loves to explore how and why we get
from saying “hello” to sharing our most intimate selves in moments of extreme
passion. She has lots more stories in the pipeline! Saskia lives in the north
of England, close to the beautiful Yorkshire moors, with her partner, Mark, and
a houseful of stray felines. Visit her website for more info:
www.saskiawalker.co.uk

About Selena
Kitt

Selena Kitt is a bestselling and
award-winning author of erotic fiction. She is one of the highest selling
erotic writers in the business. With half a million ebooks sold in 2011 alone,
she is the cream-at-the-top of erotica!

Her writing embodies everything from the
spicy to the scandalous, but watch out-this kitty also has sharp claws and her
stories often include intriguing edges and twists that take readers to new,
thought-provoking depths.

When she’s not
pawing away at her keyboard, Selena runs an innovative publishing company
(www.excessica.com) and in her spare time, she devotes herself to her
family—a husband and four children—and her growing organic garden.
She loves bellydancing and photography. She also loves four poster beds, tattoos,
voyeurism, blindfolds, velvet, baby oil, the smell of leather, and playing
kitty cat.

Her books
EcoErotica
(2009),
The
Real Mother Goose
(2010) and
Heidi and the Kaiser
(2011) were all
Epic Award Finalists. Her only gay male romance,
Second Chance
, won the
Epic Award in Erotica in 2011. Her story,
Connections
, was one of the
runners-up for the 2006 Rauxa Prize, given annually to an erotic short story of
“exceptional literary quality,” out of over 1,000 nominees, where awards are
judged by a select jury and all entries are read “blind” (without author’s name
available.)

She can be reached on her website at
www.selenakitt.com

The
Velvet Choker

By Selena Kitt

PART
ONE

They
told her it was a huge old house, standing at the very apex of two dead end
roads which met in a “v” at the front door, and that’s where she found herself,
pulling at a dulled oversize brass knocker after looking for but finding no
doorbell. The agency had given her all the specifics, but it was the other
girls, the ones who’d refused this assignment, who’d told her the rest.

Staring
up at the house now, she decided there was nothing remarkable about it, except
for its size.
This much house, this many rooms, and he wants only one girl?
She frowned at the door.

“Hello,
I’m Lydia.” She held out her hand and smiled at the man who appeared, the
rheumy blue of his eyes sunk deep into his skull, making dark shadows
underneath.

“Good.”
It came out “goot,” and she recognized the accent immediately. Hugo Kauffman
was German, a neighbor to her native Austria, and she warmed to him
immediately, in spite of the fact that he ignored her outstretched hand as he
waved her in.

“You
are the fourth girl they have sent over in as many months.” His voice continued
to surprise her with its strong, resonant tone as he led her through the house.
She was already estimating how much time it would take to clean and she
strained her neck to peer into each open door as they passed.

“This
is a very large house,” she remarked as his gnarled hand gripped the banister
and he started up a wide spiral staircase. He moved swiftly for a man of his
age, showing little hesitation in his gait.

“I
have a small staff of servants.” He didn’t look back at her as they climbed. “A
woman who cooks my meals and cleans the living areas, bathrooms and such. I
have a driver and a small crew who comes in once a month to do a deeper
cleaning.”

Lydia’s
expression twisted, puzzled, as they neared the top of the stairs, where Mr.
Kauffman stopped and turned toward her. He waited for her to make the last step
up, so they were standing face to face. His eyes moved over her, taking in the
navy pants and a pink shirt with the company logo embroidered over her right
breast.

“I
am a bit old-fashioned,” he warned, his eyes lingering on her tennis shoes. “I
would require you wear a uniform. There are several in the servants’ quarters.
I’m sure you could find something to fit you.”

She
shrugged. “That’s fine.” It didn’t matter to her what she wore to clean, as
long as she got paid. “But I’m confused…if you already have someone to
clean—?”

“Yes.”
He nodded, turning to the right. “This way.”

She
gasped as the door swung open, revealing an enormous room whose floor to
ceiling windows glowed golden in the early morning light. The heavy
rose-colored curtains were drawn aside, the sun streaming brightly on the
blush-colored settee, the cherry wood writing desk, and the candelabra wall
sconces on either side of a fireplace as high as she stood tall. The chandelier
swinging from the ceiling threw prisms over the walls, and she noticed the
wallpaper looked as shiny as satin and had a longing to touch it.

“This
is the room you will need to clean.” He moved forward and made a sweeping
motion with his hand. She turned to her right and saw the tall four poster bed
and for the first time realized this was a bedroom. “Once a day, dusting all
the surfaces and vacuuming; changing the linens once a week; the heavy work,
curtains and windows, once a month.”

She
nodded, listening, as she moved into the room, trying to take it all in at
once. The portrait over the mantle was of a nude woman, her hair curling in
honey-colored tendrils over her full breasts. Lydia glanced at the settee and
realized it was the very same one.

“But
your staff—?” She looked toward the bed again, its four posters draped
with material.

“They
will not come in here.” He watched her move past the bed, her fingers touching
the wood, heading for the tall pedestal in the corner.

Lydia’s
eyes were drawn to the dark cherry wood box on top. There was nothing unusual
or ornate about it—in fact, it was so plain it seemed out of place amidst
the lavish decoration of the room. It was just a large rectangular box, the
wood shined up so brightly she could see her reflection in the top as she
peered over to inspect it.

“You
must not open it.” His voice startled her and she whirled to see him standing
directly behind her. “In any case, it is locked. But I do require it be
polished. Daily.”

“I
can see that,” she breathed, her heart still pounding. She frowned at the
smooth surface of the box, not seeing a keyhole or latch—she couldn’t
even see the seam where it opened.

“Whose
room is this?” she asked, unable to help herself. The woman in the portrait
watched them both as he led her away from the box on the pedestal.

“It
is the boudoir,” he said simply, waving her toward the door. “Do you believe
you can fulfill the duties I’ve outlined, Lydia?”

“Yes,”
she agreed, watching as he closed the door behind them. “I’m sure I can.”

His
eyes did another sweep of her outfit and he gave her a brief nod. “Very well.
Let’s find Mrs. Bauer and get you out of those clothes.”

* *
* *

“This
one has lasted longer than the others, at any rate.” Ana Bauer went about
polishing silver with military precision. She admired her reversed reflection
in a spoon before adding it back to the box.

“Not
bad to look at, either.” Jonas took another bite of his apple and tipped back
further in his chair.

Mrs.
Bauer sighed, working the edge of a butter knife. “I suppose. He seems to
really like this one.”

“Don’t
blame him.” Jonas rocked precariously close to the china cabinet.

“Don’t
you have a car to wash or something?” she snapped, flipping the silver box
closed with a thud and frowning at her ample reflection in the cabinet glass as
she passed him.

He
grinned. “Raining.”

“I
don’t know what he pays you for,” she huffed, nudging him on a back-tip with
her not-insubstantial hip, forcing him to catch himself. The look of surprise
on his face was reward enough and she smiled as she tucked the silver box back
into the drawer.

“Don’t
be like that, Ana.” Jonas slid a hand across the soft cotton material stretched
over her roomy behind, giving her a quick squeeze. She flushed, waving his hand
away, but looked pleased until she turned to see the young girl standing in the
doorway.

“Have
you finished?” the older woman asked, frowning at the way the blonde’s curls
escaped her cap, at how what should have been the shapeless black maid’s dress
seemed to mold to the girl’s slender frame, her pristine apron accentuating the
curve of her tiny waist.

Lydia
nodded, holding up her tub of cleaning supplies. “I did the windows today.”

“They
needed it,” Mrs. Bauer remarked. “Put your things away, then.”

The
girl moved around them towards the kitchen and paused at the swinging door,
glancing over her shoulder. She saw the driver’s eyes on her, the way he looked
at the hem of her skirt at the slender calves below.

“I
was wondering…” Lydia cleared her throat. She knew better than to ask Mrs.
Bauer questions, but her curiosity compelled her. “The room…the one off the
boudoir. The door is locked. Should I clean in there as well?”

“No.”
Hugo Kauffman’s voice was unmistakable. Since she had been working for him, it
seemed no matter where he was in the house, she could hear him when he spoke.
This time, he was standing in the door of the dining room, resting his weight
on the head of a carved, wooden cane.

“That
is Mr. Kauffman’s private room,” Mrs. Bauer said, her spine straightening.

“Sir.”
Jonas’ chair legs had repositioned themselves against the floor not a moment
too soon, and he stood, the apple going behind his back as he clasped his hands
there.

“Lydia,
would you like a ride home?” Mr. Kauffman offered, giving a nod in Jonas’
direction. “It is raining cats and dogs, as my old mutter
used to say.”

“No,
thank you.” She glanced toward the tall dining room window where they could see
the rain coming down through the sheer white curtains and then over to Jonas,
who smiled and inclined his head toward her. “I brought my umbrella. I’m fine
to walk.”

Mr.
Kauffman raised a craggy eyebrow in her direction and then looked back at
Jonas. “I have this man in my employ, my dear. You may as well use his
services.”

“No,
really.” She edged toward the door, her eyes shifting to Mrs. Bauer, whose
frown had never left her face. “I like the rain.”

“She
likes the rain.” Kauffman pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes for a moment as
he looked back and forth between his driver and his maid. “Who can argue with
that?”

“Thank
you, though,” Lydia said with a small smile. “It was kind of you to offer.”

The
girl turned and pushed the door to the kitchen open, eager to be rid of her
cleaning supplies and out of the “uniform” required for the job. It usually
only took her an hour to do a thorough cleaning of the room, but today, with
the windows, it had been two, and she wanted to get home to her books. It was
only another month before her citizenship exam.

“Lydia?”
Mr. Kauffman’s voice stopped her. “Would you mind giving me your opinion on
something?”

She
suppressed a sigh, turning to look at him. “Yes?”

“Downstairs,
in my work room,” he said. “It will only take a moment.”

“Yes,”
she agreed, not sure how to say no. “Let me put this away.”

With
her cleaning supplies stowed in the cabinet until Monday, she pressed her hands
nervously down her apron, smoothing the stiff material before she swung the
kitchen door open again. Only Mr. Kauffman was standing there now. Mrs. Bauer
and the driver had disappeared into one of the vast corners of the house, she
imagined.

“Thank
you, my dear.” He turned, clearly expecting her to follow. She did, walking
slightly behind him, down the hallway and to the door that opened underneath
the wide staircase. “You are doing me a great service.”

“I’ve
never been downstairs,” she murmured, holding the hand rail as they descended.
The darkness of the stairwell gave way to an open space filled with boxes and
various odds and ends making a pathway down the center.

“I
am a bit of a pack rat, I’m afraid,” he explained with a sheepish smile,
reaching into his trouser pocket and pulling out a key. “This is a master key.
This is the only one. It opens every room in the house.”

Lydia
watched, curious, as he unlocked a door to their left and swung it wide. The
heat wave hit her first and she gasped, blinking and taking a step back.

“Yes,
I apologize,” he said, waving her in. “I am used to the temperature, I
suppose.”

Inside
the room was a large brick construction that looked to Lydia like a chimney
with a small fire burning inside at its base. The room was large, the
cinderblock walls giving it an unfinished look, and everywhere she turned there
were tall, strange metal machines.

“What
is this place?” she asked, her eyes drawn to a table along the wall. “Are those…
diamonds
?”

“Yes,”
he agreed, picking a small bag off the table and using something that looked
like a spatula to sweep them in with one expert motion. “This is what I do. I
make jewelry.”

“By
hand?” Lydia moved toward the table, unable to help her curiosity. There was a
diamond necklace spread out on the surface, the work clearly both intricate and
delicate. “I’ve never seen so many diamonds in one place!”

“Yes,”
he affirmed, picking up the necklace and tenting it over his fingers. “These
have a weight of 21.63 carats.”

“It’s
beautiful.” She swallowed, her eyes following the necklace’s sparkle in the
light of the forge fire. “How…how much would something like this cost?”

“Without
the final gem here.” He pointed to the large empty pronged setting at the bottom
of the necklace. “It is already over a hundred thousand dollars.”

Lydia
gasped, her hand going to her throat. “What goes here, then?”

“That,
my dear, is what I would like your opinion on.” He put the necklace back and
spilled the contents of another small gem bag onto the table. “I have a beauty,
here, another diamond I could put as the centerpiece, or perhaps either the
ruby or the sapphire…”

“The
sapphire,” Lydia said immediately, her eyes wide as she stared at the display
on the table.

“Yes?”
He frowned, using thin tongs to pick up the sapphire and put it into place,
gently bending the prongs to hold it there. “Perhaps.”

“I’ve
never seen anything so beautiful,” she said, transfixed by the necklace.