Page 9 of Triple Threat

“Bra, t-shirt, panties that aren’t fucking see-through, jeans, socks, a pair ofshoes, twenty bucks, and you to open the door and not follow me,” she said.

“You have spirit, but I’m sorry. I cannot allow you to leave,” I said. She was getting angry again and I could see her nipples stiffen under the sheer fabric of the lavender nightgown she was wearing. She adjusted her crossed arms to where they covered her breasts as her face reddened.

“Go fuck yourself, then,” she said.

“That won’t get you anywhere, Poppet,” I said. “Mind your tongue or you could have less clothing made available to you.”

“I’m already one piece of clothing away from being naked,” she said.“What happens when I’m still not your obedient little pet after that?”

“I could truss you up like a rib roast, or shave you bald.” I gave her a shrug.

“You wouldn’t dare!” Her mouth dropped open and her outrage was adorable.

“Love, you have no idea what I’m capable of. I happen to be a very good cook, electronics engineer, and a number of other things; I am well versed in first aid, hand-to-hand combat, and demolitions. Play by the rules and be nice, you can have your run of the house, the library, the home theatre, and the services of a first-rate non-professional butler and cook. Test me, and you’ll find out how much I know about restraints and attitude adjustments,” I said calmly. She seemed mollified by this, and thankfully so. I had no desire to drug her, manually subdue her, or any of the other methods I knew to make people docile.

That wasn’t to my tastes.

“Ah, yes, now that that is out of the way,” I said, letting my tone lighten, “would you care for some French Provencal chicken with root vegetables?”

“Root vegetables?” she asked.

“Aye, carrots, parsnips, onion and the like,” I said.“I assume you know what onions, herbs, and chicken are?” I asked. She nodded. “Would you like a glass of wine with it?”

“A glass of wine?”

“Yes, a small glass shouldn’t interfere with any of the medicines you’re taking. Think of this as a white-collar prison – the sort where millionaires are sent to spend six months cooling their heels for insider trading or murdering their wives.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” she said, face crumbling slightly.

“I assume that’s true,” I said. “Which is why you are aguest, and not an actual prisoner.”

She sniffed and shuddered, hugging herself tightly. She pursed her lips, and decision made, asked me, “What kind of wine?”

“I would pair a Chardonnay,” I said.

“Is that sweet?” she asked.

I chuckled. “No. There are some sweeter dessert wines, but those go with cheesecake and such, not savory.”

“I’ll have one of those if you’ve got it. I don’t like fancy wine.”

I felt a pang of regret as I poured a bit of a winter Riesling, the sweetest bottle I was willing to surrender to such an ignoble fate. I took her a plate of the chicken and herbs, the heel of a loaf of bread, and a stemless glass with a half pour of the wine. She inspected it, then tore into the food. She didn’t taste it, didn’t savor it. She ate the chicken with her hands and only picked up the plastic fork when she noticed the look on my face.

“When you’re done, you should probably change. You’ve spilled some on yourself,” I said. She didn’t seem to notice as she devoured the bread. I left her to her meal; Lord knew when the last time she ate a proper one was.

* * *

The next morning,I delivered Sadie a few more modest pieces of clothing – a slightly more substantial dress and a pair of thong panties. She held them up and gave me a scathing look.

“They aren’t see-through.” I shrugged.

It was true, and it was part of how the game would be played. There were two things that I was running with – I would give her what she asked for if she behaved herself, but in the most monkey’s paw manner I could. She wanted panties that weren’t see-through, and I knew she wanted something plain, something normal and comfortable. But she never said that, so I was under no obligation to oblige.

The second thing was that I knew she was a high flight risk and Lach wanted her to stay; only God knew why. He never did things like this, so this must be very important to him. The last thing that I would allow would be for her to escape. In comfortable clothes she could feel confident and bolt. When her clothing choices were sheer underwear and satin negligees, or a midriff baring hot pink shirt and black thong, she wouldn’t be sprinting down Bootlegger Head making for the main road to Indigo City.

We could sport like this for a while.

“So, do they meet your approval or not?” I asked.

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