Free Candy's Store Book 4 The Back Room by Chastity Vicks Page A

help feeling it might be a good idea to give her some time spent working alone. I was about to move again, to fetch the portfolio and show Mr. Brooker her picture, when he cleared his throat.
    “Um. I don’t suppose you …. I mean, do you…ever…?”
    I looked for a long moment at this pretty, dented man, and crossed a line I am normally content to leave fairly well alone.
    “That can certainly be arranged, Mr. Brooker. What date did you have in mind?”
    Such relief, such gratitude flooded his expression that I almost regretted my decision. He smiled, and it threatened to light up the room. We covered a few more details—the boundaries he wanted to lay down, the minutiae of his fantasy—then arranged an appointment for a week’s time, which would enable me to ensure the appropriate props were all assembled. The…machine was easy enough to get hold of, and I enjoyed the opportunity to pop into town and see Jed, the owner of the local adult entertainment emporium. Once I got ‘Wild Bill’ back to Candy’s Store, an interesting afternoon was spent unwrapping and investigating it in the staff break room.
    “Never seen one of these before,” commented Danny, our maintenance man and part-time wardrobe assistant. “What’s the maximum weight it’ll stand?”
    Discussion broke out as to whether the upper limit of kilograms prescribed on the box could involve one or more parties. Danny scratched his moustache, looked doubtful, and wondered aloud if it wasn’t worth considering building our own version. I smiled, shrugged, said he was welcome to claim expenses if he felt like trying, and watched him wander back to his workshop a happy man. Gina and a couple of the other girls were delighted to find that, not only was Bill remote controlled, he had three different detachable dongs, five variable speeds, and the option of attaching virtually any compatible toy to his dock.
    “Oh my God! I’ll never have to date again!”
    I chuckled. Some of the boys looked a little less enthralled by the thing, though I noticed more than a few second glances in Bill’s direction. It certainly made for interesting dinner table conversation that evening.
    Mr. Brooker’s appointment, when it finally came, was of course a totally different matter. I confess to even feeling a little nervous—it had been that long since I found myself in quite this kind of position. I dressed in the clothes he’d requested: a mini-dress in a sparkling silver fabric, with a deep cowl neck and split sleeves, teamed with sheer stockings and black patent high heels. My blonde hair was piled up on my head, a few curls dropping to tease the nape of my neck, my make-up minimal apart from black eyeliner and baby pink lipstick. The overall effect reached somewhere between classy chic and disco slut—the kind of woman a man wouldn’t necessarily take home to Mother, yet wouldn’t mind showing off to his friends—and I had to admit I felt years younger. I waited for him in The Back Room, a dismally plain and functional space usually used for jail cell fantasies. Today, the prop cages, bars, and benches had been cleared out, and Wild Bill stood in the middle of the floor, no dildo in his dock. Naked and emasculated. The only other thing in the room besides a table that held a selection of lubes, toys, and a tub of condoms, was a large black leather wingback chair, set between Bill and the far wall.
    I settled myself in it when I heard the knock on the door, crossing my legs and counting to four before I said:
    “Enter.”
    James Brooker shuffled into the room with his eyes downcast, closed the door behind him, and looked first at Bill, then me. His gaze trailed up my legs, the outline of my body beneath the dress, my pink-tipped hands resting on the arms of the chair and, finally, lingered on my face. He smiled breathlessly.
    “You look beautiful. Thank you. Thank you so much.”
    He licked his lips, attention flicking again to Wild Bill and all it