Lacy Bonds (Veronica's Tale)(Curvy Maids 3): (A Billionaire, BDSM, BBW naughty romance)

Lacy Bonds

(Veronica's Tale)

Curvy Maid's 3

by

Renee Jordan

Copyright © 2015 by Renee Jordan

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the expressed written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Published in the United States of America, 2015

All characters depicted in this work of fiction are over the age of eighteen (18).

Cover Photo ©
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|
Depositphotos.com

Cover Art created by
Silverheart

Naughty Ladies Publications

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Chapter One

The rain hammered.

That wasn't unusual in Seattle. But I had to walk three blocks to catch my bus in the downpour and I had forgotten my umbrella at home. My feet were sore. I had just worked ten hours cashiering at Quality Goods. I was exhausted.

I pulled out my phone and texted my boyfriend.
Come rescue me. :)

I waited, clutching my phone, my long, beige coat wrapped around me as I leaned against the exterior. The street was turning into a flood, water churned by passing cars. My phone chirped. I glanced at the screen.

What's up babe?

Forgot my umbrella. Can you pick me up? XOXO

I hit send, waiting for his answer.

Sorry babe. :( In the middle of something.

“In the middle of what?” I muttered, glancing out at the downpour, hoping it would have abated while I was texting.

I sighed, taking a deep breath, and clutched my coat about my plump figure as I stepped out into the rain. It was cold. The rain was a physical blow, slapping me in the face. I gasped at the shock, my black hair molding to my round face.

I half-ran, half-walked through the downpour, my shoes sloshing with water. I reached the corner, turning left. The wind drove the rain right into my face, howling through the tall buildings of downtown. I forced myself to keep walking as my coat soaked through.

The bus was waiting for me. I ran up before it pulled away, swiping my Orca card as I walked on the bus. “Wet enough,” the young, chubby bus driver nodded, her fat fingers adorned with rings.

“Yeah,” I sighed, slumping into the seat behind her. “How's your day going, Tessa?”

“Trying not to kill any of the idiot bike riders racing through the streets. It's a downpour, and they're still cutting me off, Veronica.”

I smiled. I had been riding this route home for three years and Tessa almost always drove me home on Mondays and Thursdays. She was a pleasant woman, always chatting with her passengers as she drove her bus through the terrible traffic of downtown.

The heavy downpour drumming on the bus stopped. “Of course,” I sighed at the slacking rain. “It waits until I'm on the bus to lessen.”

“The rain knows,” Tessa nodded, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel.

“It seems like that sometimes,” I sighed, eager for this day to be over.

“You're sounding grouchy. Frank?”

“Yes,” I groaned. “He's busy.” I pulled out a napkin from my purse and vainly tried to dry my face.

“Right,” Tessa nodded. “Busy.”

Her tone made me defensive. “I'm sure he is.”

A few minutes later, I got off the bus, waving goodbye to Tessa. “Don't run over any of those bicyclists.”

“I'll try,” she muttered, but gave me a big smile before the bus's doors squeaked closed.

I dripped water on the entire elevator ride up to my apartment I shared with Frank, my musician boyfriend. He was in a band struggling to make it big. It was exciting to be dating a rocker, standing in front of the crowd at a bar, cheering him on.

Well, it had been exciting five years ago when I was nineteen.

The elevator doors opened, and I walked out, fumbling for my keys in my drenched purse. I found them, unlocked the apartment door, and walked in. Frank was home. He was sitting on the couch, a headset on his head, playing some video game.

“Watch out, he's behind you,” he shouted into the headset, the TV blaring with gunshots.

“This is why you couldn't pick me up?” I demanded, glaring at the screen.

“Yeah, babe. It's a pretty furious death match. My team needed me.”

It was the last straw with my boyfriend. I didn't even have the effort to scream at him. I walked into our bedroom, dropping my sodden coat and sank onto the bed. I fished my phone out, looked up Zera's number, and gave my friend a call.

For the last month, my friends Zera and Issy had tried to get me to join Zera's blossoming Curvy Maids business. Both women were deliriously happy with their results working as plump maids for the billionaires of Seattle. When Mr. Draven had first hired then proposed marriage to Zera, he had sparked an appetite among the powerful for a curvy gal to serve them dressed in skimpy outfits.

Both women did more than look pretty. Zera and Issy had become intimate with their employers. Their relationships that had turned into a passionate, and quite kinky, BDSM affairs. Both women were engaged and eager for their weddings.

There was a part of me that had wanted to escape the drudgery of my cashier job at the Quality Goods, a trendy, all-natural grocery store in Seattle. I wanted to have a dashing, rich billionaire sweep my plump self off in a whirlwind romance.

But there was Frank, my boyfriend.

I loved him.

At least, I thought I did.

But lately his flaws have been growing on me. Lazy. No job. Can't keep the house clean while I'm at work. Won't take the time to cook dinner. Sure he's handsome. Sure he has dreamy eyes. But sometimes I felt like his mom and not his girlfriend.

Only a slight amount of guilt had held me back. But it wasn't really cheating just to dress like a slutty maid and clean a billionaire's house. As long as I didn't let it go too far. I did love Frank.

“Curvy Maids, my name is Melissa, how can I help you?” a pleasant woman asked.

I blinked in surprise. I thought this was Zera's private cell number. “Um, er, I need to speak to Zera.”

“And who shall I tell
Miss Alexandra
is calling?” Melissa sounded miffed that I used Zera's nickname.

“It's Veronica. She offered me a job and...I want to...” Deep breath. “...accept.”

“One moment.”

The line beeped, then a cheesy, classical song started playing. Zera had really invested in her business. Curvy Maids must be really successful. Maybe she didn't need me anymore? Maybe I had waited too long and missed out on the opportunity to make some money.

I would have to go and work another ten hours at Quality Goods tomorrow. My feet were swollen. I didn't want that.

The line clicked back on. “Transferring you to Miss Alexandra,” Melissa reported.

A moment later, my friend Zera exclaimed, “Are you really joining up, Veronica?”

“I am.”

“Come by the penthouse right away. Oh, Veronica, I'm so happy!”

“Oh, sure, I can do that,” I sighed.

“What's wrong?”

My boyfriend's being an asshole. “Nothing. I'll take the bus and be there soon.”

“Nonsense,” Zera declared. “It's raining. I'll have my driver pick you up. He'll be there in say fifteen minutes.

*   *   *

The intercom buzzed. Frank was still playing his stupid video game.

I strode across the apartment, my hair a mess. I had dried it, but I only had time to run a comb through it so my black hair was frizzy. I changed out of my work clothes, putting on a cute dress Frank had bought me three years ago for Valentine's Day. The last one he remembered

“Hello,” I said into the intercom.

“Is this Miss Veronica?” a polite man asked.

“Yes. I'll be right down.”

“Going somewhere, Babe?” Frank asked.

“Zera's.”

“So you're not cooking dinner?”

“Nope.” I yanked the door open.

“Are you mad at me?” he asked as I slammed the door shut and walked to the elevator.

He didn't follow after me. He probably just went back to killing...whatever he was in that stupid game. The team
needed
him.

The driver waited in the lobby, dressed in a black suit. He was young and handsome, his back straight, and very polite. He lead me to a limousine parked in front of the building. Zera had scored big when she captured the billionaire owner of Microtech's heart.

I would love to have this treatment all the time.

The ride was smooth and there was even a refreshing, iced tea for me to sip, a wedge of lemon stuck on the rim. I enjoyed the ride through Seattle, the rain drumming on the roof. Fifteen minutes later, we were in front of Zera's building, the driver holding the door open for me.

“Thanks,” I smiled.

“My pleasure, Miss.”

Zera lived in the penthouse at the top of this gorgeous building. It was so kitsch and new, decorated in thirties art deco. I loved it. The building had such character and warmth, you didn't see that with a lot new buildings.

“Good day, Miss Veronica,” the Eastern European doorman smiled, bowing as he held the door open for me.

“Victor, right?” I asked, always unnerved by his polite deference.

“It is, Miss,” he beamed. “You have good day. Miss Zera will be excited to see you.”

“Thanks. You have a great one.”

I walked across the lobby, my feet so light despite ten hours standing at the cash register. I could do this. As long as I was careful and didn't do anything inappropriate, then I wouldn't cheat on Frank.

Because I loved him.

I repeated that on the ride up the elevator, reinforcing it in my mind.

The doors dinged; the elevator opened onto an opulent penthouse. Mr. Draven had filled the place with expensive art pieces though there were more feminine touches in the home than the first time I was here. Lacy dollies, vases with flowers, airier curtains.

“Hi, Veronica,” Zera said, crossing the room in her maid uniform. She was a plump girl with fiery, red hair that fell about her almost bare shoulders, a curl trailing down to her ample cleavage. She looked like she was about to spill out of her top. Even though she was engaged to Mr. Draven, she still worked as his curvy maid.

A plump woman in a tight, gray skirt and a flowery blouse trailed Zera. She had the cutest glasses perched on her round, tan face. And her hair was lovely. I wish my black curls had as much volume as her honey-brown hair. She must be Melissa, the assistant.

“Hey, Zera,” I smiled, a wave of nerves spilling through me.

“I am so glad you changed your mind,” my friend smiled, giving me a warm hug. “I'm sorry you don't have my new number. Since I used my old cell for the business  I had to get a new number.”

“That's fine.”

She hooked my arm with hers, leading me across the living room. “Mr. Draven let me use one of the guest bedrooms for my office though I left a few of the toys in there.”

I shifted, giving a weak smile. Zera reveled in the BDSM lifestyle. Her billionaire fiance loved to tie her up and spank her ample bottom. I had seen their collection. I had no idea sex toys could come in so many different styles. I only owned a plain, boring vibrator.

Zera sat at her desk and I sat across from her. “Melissa, get the prospective client files.”

“Yes, Miss Alexandra.” The plump woman went to a filing cabinet and pulled out a stack of manila envelops, setting them on the table. “Do you need anything else?”

“Tea?” Zera asked, raising her eyebrows. I nodded. “Brew us up some of the chamomile tea. I think that would be perfect.”

Melissa left the room. “She's quite...uptight,” I said.

“Issy says the stick up her ass has a stick up its ass,” Zera giggled. I could picture the blonde, earthy Issy saying that with her country sass. “But she's effective. I'd be lost without her these days.”

“That's good.”

“Okay, let's find you a billionaire.” She grabbed the first one, grimaced, and set that aside. I frowned, looking at the name: Blake Marsden.

I gave a curious glance at that folder. Why had she set it to the side?

“How about Mr. Vance?” Zera asked. She opened up the file. A glossy picture of a Mr. Vance rested atop his paperwork. He dressed like a climber, his arms thick and his chest powerful as he stood before a tan cliff. “He's very adventuresome. Loves to travel. He's looking for a fun gal. He's hinted that he wouldn't mind a submissive lover.”

“Um, no,” I said, shaking my head. I wasn't interested in being a lover.

“Okay,” she said, closing it up and pulling out the next one. I rejected that one as well. Another billionaire looking for a plump gal to dominate in bed. I wanted a job not a relationship. I had Frank for sex. He got the job done most of the time.

I rejected the next three, sipping at the lovely tea Melissa made while my eyes kept drifting to Blake's file, my curiosity getting the better of me.

“What's wrong, Veronica,” Zera said, frowning at me. “Why do you keep saying no?”

“Why did you set this one aside?” I asked, touching Blake's.

Zera furrowed her brow. “Honestly, I do not think he's interested in a...companion. I'm trying to match women with men so that their relationship will...grow into something beautiful. I wasn't so careful with Issy and she had her heart broken.” Her tone grew frosty.

“So what's wrong with Mr. Marsden?”

“I think he is looking for a surrogate for his dead wife. Someone to pretend to be Cosette.” Zera frowned. “It's not healthy. He needs more time to grieve.”

“I'll work for him,” I blurted out.

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