Page 8 of Forbidden

Martha was never just a secretary. She somehow became aunt, or mother-like. Someone who advised me on life, and she is someone, I look up to, and love fondly.

“Dear, do you remember once saying to me, that if I ever needed a favor, just to ask? Even staying in New York?”

“Of course,” I say watching the rain sweep across NYC, and crossing my thick arms.

“Well, a dear friend from South Carolina just called and if you don’t mind, I’d like to ask a favor. If that’s okay?”

“It’ll be a pleasure, anything in the world.” I’m serious and if it costs a billion, it’s done.

“Wonderful. Now, the woman has a young daughter, and she has just gotten a job in New York City library. She needs a place to stay for a little while, and… I thought of you.”

I rub my neck and try not to growl. “Interesting.”

“And, it may even help you solve your… reclusive side.”

“I like being a recluse,” I say, rubbing my temple.

“I know, dear. I know. Anyway, she arrives later today, and I forgot to call you earlier.”

“Are you serious?”

“Of course, dear.”

I wince, “Sure, but how old is she? Ten, twelve?”

“Oh, you are funny. No, she’s a sweet young woman, and she will keep to herself, like you. She is a bookworm, twenty-one and she charged through her degree. Her name is Georgia.”

Before I can tell her it could end in tears, my reception buzzer rings. “Sorry, hang on.” I say walking over, to hit the button.

“Sir, you have a visitor.”

Dear God.

“Is that her now? Oh, how wonderful.”

I moan low. “Look, this may not be the best idea. Twenty-one?!”

“Don’t be silly. Just keep an eye on her, and if you ever have a moment spare, show her a good time.”

“Martha!”

“But not too good, she is sweet after all. I only mention that because I know you dated a few… modern women in the day. Georgia isforbidden, do you understand?”

“Of course.” I say insulted. “But Martha… ”

“Look, I have to run, something in the oven. Love you, dear.”

“You too, but… ”

Too late. She’s gone. I sigh, with my eyes closed, and I hit the buzzer. “Okay, let her up.”

I look around, realizing I’m not dressed for a visitor, and my heart rate goes up. No one comes up here to the penthouse, unless it’sthem.

The women in the day.

The ones I had… perform for me.

At least there are no things around from back then. No blindfolds, or panties hanging from lamp shades. No whips hanging from anywhere, and no masks, dildos or vibrators, designed to make women come like they’ve never come before.