"I know," I said. "It was just a question. I was curious."
It wasn't entirely just a question, but I knew that it couldn't be anything more, either.
...
Jeremy left me at the guest house. It was still early, somewhat. Not entirely as late as Asher had made it out to be, and I actually wasn't tired in the least. In a few more hours, maybe, but not yet.
I plopped onto the couch, contemplating watching something on the projector and movie screen. Unfortunately, though, I realized I had no idea how to use the remote. I picked it up off the coffee table, staring at it. The buttons all looked the same, though some said one thing or another. My TV at home had a generic cable company remote with a standard cable box, but this was nothing like that. I frowned and tossed it back onto the table, defeated. I didn't want to mess around with it and potentially screw something up. I felt like I was always screwing something up these days.
What to do, what to do? I could take a bath? My thoughts drifted to yesterday, when I'd refused to leave Asher's guest home. He came home, angry and upset, wondering why. He'd asked me what I was doing, why had I done this? I didn't really know how to answer him then, and I didn't know now, but I remembered one of the things I'd said later. In his basement library, stripped of my clothes, tossed onto one of his couches, I'd admitted to masturbating in his bathtub.
Maybe I shouldn't take a bath.
I could make myself a snack? Sit here and do nothing? Go lay on the bed upstairs and...?
Then it hit me. The library! The library had similar memories as the bathtub, but mostly only with Asher. If I went there alone, I thought I'd be alright. No drudged up thoughts that I shouldn't think about, nothing too awful or bad. I would find a book, sit on the couch, maybe cover myself with blankets, and read.
Except, of course, I needed pajamas first. Nightclothes. Something. I bounced up the stairs, excited, and ran to the master bedroom.
I still couldn't believe the closet. Empty when I first arrived, when I'd come as part of some deal with Asher, he'd since asked Jeremy to fill it with clothes for me. I don't really know why, unless this was part of his plan. I assumed Asher Landseer was the kind of person who got what he wanted most times, so probably that was it. He did need to discuss the situation with Beatrice, but he'd do it and she'd side in his favor. Not with me, but for him, and so in advance of that he'd bought me clothes.
I searched through the clothes, shifting aside hangers. I knew some of what was here, since I'd grabbed a pair of jeans and a t-shirt to change into before heading to dinner, but most of it was a mystery. More jeans, dresses, cute skirts and blouses, t-shirts and tanktops and...
Nightgowns. Not many pajamas from what I saw, but maybe Jeremy put those in the dresser? I should check, except, no, what did it matter? I was here, alone, and really, I could wear what I wanted. The nightgowns looked lovely, too. I immediately stared at a red one and decided I needed to wear it. Nothing else would do.
I plucked the hanger from the closet and set the nightgown on the bed. Not really a nightgown so much as a babydoll, much shorter at the bottom and with a pair of thong panties hanging hidden on the hanger. Somewhat scandalous, really, the kind of thing a woman wore to bed when she didn't actually want to go to sleep. Or, the kind of nightclothes a single woman wore in hopes of not wearing them to bed alone for much longer.
I pulled the babydoll and panties off the hanger. The panties were light and stringy and nearly non-existent. What the heck was Jeremy doing to me here? He'd bought these without my knowledge and had taken quite a few liberties. Maybe he was some kind of pervert? He seemed nice enough, though, so I doubted it.
I stepped out of my casual heels and stripped off my jeans and t-shirt, socks, underwear, and bra. The lacy lingerie, near see-thru in some parts, looked especially naughty laying on the floor by my feet. I had ideas, thoughts, but I pushed them away for now. Maybe later? Like a nightcap, before I went to bed, I'd touch...
Jessika! I yelled at myself and stared at the babydoll again. Well, panties first, I decided. I stepped into the g-string undergarment and lifted it up my legs, fitting it into place. It felt nice and soft, what little of it there was. I pulled on the waistband a little, feeling the fabric nestle between my lower lips, an intimate secret soon to be hidden by the babydoll.
Then I slipped the thin nightgown on, pulling it down my frame until the spaghetti straps settled on my shoulders. I shifted around, setting my br**sts into place in the slightly cupped front. The skirt stopped barely below my crotch, offering a tantalizing peek at the lower curves of my butt in the back. I desperately needed to look in a mirror, so I ran to the bathroom to check myself out.
My God! I looked so cute and sexy. The chest part of the babydoll was black and shear, practically translucent, and I could see my n**ples through the fabric, firm and pronounced. The rest was solid, red with tiny black dots, and a bit of frill at the bottom of the skirt. The skirt barely covered anything and when I twirled around in front of the mirror, admiring myself, it fluttered up and revealed my butt and the split lips of my p**sy with a faint bit of fabric between them.
I was ravishing! Or, I liked to think I was. I wasn't particularly ravishing for any one person, but if someone walked into the house right now with absolutely no intent on hav**g s*x with me, I thought I could change their mind rather easily. Not that I'd do that, but the idea that I could had appeal. Some sex kitten, a sensual woman of lust and beauty, inciting roaring fires of passion inside anyone who looked at me.
I laughed to myself and thought about my recent photography session with Asher. I hadn't worn anything special for that, nothing too out of the ordinary anyways, but I'd managed to accidentally seduce him then. I felt somewhat badly about it, and he did, too, but at the time I'd needed it. Wanted him, desired him, and he must have felt the same. Now, if he saw me, what would he do? His photography hobby was a real thing, not a ploy to get women into bed, but disregarding that I was pretty sure I could convince him to skip the pictures altogether in this outfit.
Unfortunately there was no Asher, nor any pictures or a camera, but only books. I hurried downstairs and then down again, into the quiet basement library. My babydoll skirt flipped up as I rushed into the library, but I didn't care.
Now, what book to read? I didn't even know what books he owned. Too many, by far. I wanted something steamy and sexy, though, to fit my nightclothes. Something sensual and passionate and...
I saw the spine of a book with a picture of a woman facing away on it. She wore a backless red dress and had a rose tattooed from between her shoulder blades all the way down to the small of her back. Black hair, mysterious. Kushiel's Chosen, by Jacqueline Carey. I pulled it out of the bookcase and read the back cover.
Some kind of fantasy, epic by the look of it, with a bit of mystery and intrigue. Vague insinuations of saucy seduction, too. Unfortunately this was the second book in this series, so said the inside cover, but I didn't have time for the first. I didn't even know if I'd like this one, but I figured I'd read for a few hours, test it out, and then make my choice. If I liked it, I'd find the first book in the series and read that tomorrow.
The book devoured me. A historical romance of sorts, with some godly twists. I sat on the couch, covered in blankets, entranced by the words. I didn't know much about Jacqueline Carey, but I liked how she wrote. Very poetic and pleasant sounding sentences, but not too far and over the top. Just enough, just right.
Absorbed in the book, I barely realized something in the library was wrong. Something off, a bit of a change, obvious if I cared to notice but imperceptible in my current, rapt state.
That all changed when one of the bookcases by the center of the room swung away from the wall and someone stepped out through a hidden doorway. I looked up, saw the man, dropped the book, and screamed.
Asher laughed. "What are you screaming at?" he asked.
My scream tapered off but my eyes remained wide. I stared at him standing in the middle of his library. He pulled on the edge of the swung open bookcase and pushed it back against the wall. It clicked into a secret casing on the floor, looking as if it had never opened to begin with.
I stared at him, never blinking.
"What?" he asked.
"What are you doing what was that why do you have a secret passageway in your guest home what the heck?" No time for coherent thought, I rambled all my questions out at once.
"You remember The Goonies, right? I told you I always wanted to be like that boy with the gadgets when I was younger? I don't think I ever really grew out of that."
"Are you serious?" I asked. "That's your answer?"
"Well, I didn't expect you to be in the library, either."
"You told me I could stay in your guest house for the night, and this library is in the guest house..."
"I suppose so. What are you reading?"
He walked towards me. Unlike me, Asher still wore his regular clothes: khakis and a casual, button-down shirt. Kneeling to pick up the book, he inspected it, then smiled.
I stared at him, confused, and pulled the blankets up higher, covering myself completely. I wanted to look sexy, but that was when I thought I was alone, and now... I didn't really know what I wanted to do.
"This is a good one," he said. "Have you read the first? I like the second part of the series more, the three books after the first three, but the first three are great, too."
"I haven't," I said. "It looked interesting, though. I like her dress."
"Ah, Phedre, yes," he said. "She's an interesting character."
"She seems kind of slutty," I said without thinking. "I haven't gotten very far, but..." My words trailed off.
"Maybe she is in some ways." Asher shrugged, grinning. "I think she's very open with herself, too. Also, there's religious reasons, somewhat. It's a strange book, but interesting."
"Religious reason to be a slut?" I asked, laughing.
"Yes, of course. Shall I go into a long rant about—" While he spoke, he sat on the couch next to me. Kicking off his shoes, he lifted up the blanket and settled in beside me.
My God. I stared at him, frozen. He looked at me, nonchalant, completely confused at my sudden hesitation. As I backed away from him slightly, inching towards the arm of the couch until my back pressed against it, Asher reached beneath the blanket to put his hand on my thigh.
Some calming gesture, no doubt. I needn't be afraid, this was some conversation between two friends. Little did he know, I had nothing covering my thigh. Also, he misjudged and reached quite a bit farther up. His hand touched down against the very top of my thigh, his pinky finger brushing against the cloth of my babydoll's g-string and settling in right next to my lower lips. I think it dawned on him that something was off right about the time my face burned bright red, but his hand never moved.
Asher froze. "You're not wearing pants," he said.
"I changed into pajamas."
He furrowed his brow. "This doesn't feel like pajamas."
His fingers wiggled slightly, his pinky finger tweaking my intimate lips back and forth, faintly touching my cl*t and sending a shiver through my body.
Shocked, surprised, Asher tossed off the blankets and looked at his hand. I bit my lower lip, embarrassed at the pleasure he gave me, never wanting or expecting this to happen. Or, at least I never expected it, and I pretended not to want it.