The Devil's Playthings (3 page)

“I’m not sure, what do you have?” Emma responded.

“Well I’m sure the chef can make whatever you’d like,” the dark haired maid responded.

Emma’s eyes grew
wide at the thought
. “Any
thing?”
Emma was stunned at the idea of having whatever she wanted
.
Her grandmother was an okay cook, but they didn’t have much money, so a lot of her meals included beans or potatoes.

O
ffered anything she wanted to eat, she couldn’t think of anything she really wanted. So, the maid stood behind her for several minutes while she tried to decide. She felt like an idiot when she asked for a salad, with ranch dressing, and a baked potato. She couldn’t think of anything more creative than a salad? But it sounded good, and simple to make.
Emma didn’t want to be a bother to anyone
.

So she closed her eyes again, and when she opened them, the maid had brought her a plate and sat it
on the table in front of her
. She also brought another soda, and sour cream, butter, and dressing on the side. Everything was arranged on a
silver tray
, with silverware and a white napkin, and a
crystal
glass. She devoured the food, and drank all the soda.

“Would you like something else, Miss?” the young woman asked tentatively.

“Umm…” she thought for a moment, and then shook her head. “Can I ask, what’s your name?”

The other woman looked at her stunned, as if no one had ever done that before.

“I only mean, if I’m going to keep seeing you, I’d like to know what to call you,” Emma informed her.

The other dark haired, dark skinned girl blushed bright red, and nodded. “Rosa,” she said after a short pause.

“I don’t think I’d like anything else right now,” Emma replied. And then a thought hit her, “unless there is some cheesecake in the kitchen.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Rosa smiled, and then asked, “would you like another drink, Miss?”

“Emma,” she smiled warmly. “And I’d like a bottle of water, please.”
Rosa busied herself clearing everything from the table, placing it on the silver tray, and carrying it back through the huge glass doors.

In several minutes Rosa retu
rned with her dessert on a silver tray
.
Emma thanked her and dug in again. After finishing up, and feeling dry enough, she dressed and headed back inside. She easily fou
nd her bedroom. Then she frowned
… just because she slept here didn’t make it “hers”. But she would claim it as long as possibl
e, she shrugged
.

As soon as she entered her room, Rosa knocked quietly on the door. “Would you like me to draw a bath?”

She hadn’t even thought of it, but after her day in the pool she was sure she needed a good washing. “A shower, maybe?” Emma shrugged.

“Of course,” Rosa replied, and hurried to the bathroom. She busied herself with t
owels, soaps, and loofahs. W
hen Emma heard the water run
Rosa exited so she could undress.

The water felt warm but not hot, and she stood in it for an eternity, washing her long blonde hair and then conditioning it. Then she washed her body with a soap that smelled like heaven, and noticed a girly little razor in the stall, so she used it as well. She felt almost human.

She turned the water off
, and after she snuggled into the thick robe, Rosa knocked again on the bathroom door. Emma didn
’t know what to expect, but
she opened the door to peek out
.
“I can do your
hair if you like, Mi… Emma,” Rosa offered.

“Okay,” Emma replied, and Rosa took her arm and led her to a dressing room, which was roughly the size of her whole bedroom at her grandparent’s house, and sat Emma down at a vanity. Then she went to a small closet, and pulled out several tools, a blow-dryer, a brush, and two different curling irons, and plugged them all in.

The dressing mirror was like Emma had seen only in pictures, a mirror with several round lights surrounding it. And behind her, she could see in the mirror, was more clothes, rows and rows of shoes, hats, scarves, and any accessory Emma could think of.

“Where am I, really?” Emma asked out of curiosity.

“You’re in Master’s apartment
,
” Rosa replied.

Emma gasped loudly, but Rosa turned on the blow-dryer, making conversation impossible. So Emma sat with her thoughts, won
dering how or why she was in such a luxurious apartment, until
the dryer stopped, and Emma pounced.

“How did I get here
?” Emma asked wildly.

Rosa only shook her head. “I think you should ask Master.”

“The last thing
I remembered, I was in
an alley
,” Emma stated. Then she remembered the evening in question, and shivered. She thought it would be best to forget that night. She sat quietly again, allowing her dark thoughts to consume her as Rosa hummed and curled.

“There, all done,” Rosa said quietly, and Emma finally looked at
the huge mirror. Her hair was fashioned
in big, swooping curls, and then pulled up
in front
so the curls cascaded down the back of her neck.

“That’s very pretty,” Emma said. Then Rosa pulled a makeup case out of the closet, and placed it on the table in front of her.

“Can you do this yourself?” Rosa asked. “Or would you like me to?”

Emma couldn’t remember the last time she’d worn make up, so she shrugged and let Rosa do her magic. When she finished, Emma was pleasantly surprised again. The light pink color on her lips and cheeks gave her a fresh look, and the silver and dark grey on her eyes gave them a dramatic touch, and brought out the soft blue color. She also gave her blonde lashes a coat of mascara, or else they wouldn’t show up at all.

“Master requests you dress for dinner,” Rosa said, and retrieved a sleeveless black dress that looked impossibly small, but fit Emma like a second skin. Then she chose a pair of strappy black
high
heel
ed shoes
.

Emma looked scared as she stared at the shoes. “I’ve never worn anything like that,” Emma stated.

“It’s okay, try them on,” Rosa coaxed her. Emma did so, and nearly fell on her face.

“Try again,” Rosa laughed, and helped her until she could at least walk without falling. Graceful would take time.

So Emma took the few steps toward the dressing mirror in the bedroom, and she couldn’t believe her eyes. She looked like a movie star. “You are an artist,” she gushed to Rosa.

“I had
a good canvas,” she smiled.
T
hen
she
held Emma’s elbow as she led her downstairs to the formal dining room again.

She stumbled onl
y once, and was thankful for Rosa’s
steady hand. This evening, the two place settings were side by side. One
sat
at the head of the table, of course, and the other to the right. She could only assume she would be at his side.

Then Rosa pulled out the chair for her, and she tried to sit as daintily as she could in the dress. This evening she didn’t have to wait long, for as soon as she sat he entered the room.

He wore a black suit without a tie, and the neck of the crisp white collar open to show the muscles at his shoulders and the hollow at the base of his throat. She nearly gasped again at the sight of him. Up close he was even mo
re beautiful than from afar.

Since she sat closer
to him, she hoped
to g
uess
his age. She thought mid 20’s to early 30
’s, but of course she couldn’t be sure.
And his eyes were even darker
than she remembered. Rosa
pulled out the chair for him
t
hen disappeared. Emma hoped Rosa
finally got a break, and something to eat. She’d been with her nearly all day.

The same me
n who brought their breakfast served their dinner. This was another
first for her:
their dinner was served in courses. A glass of water sat in front of her, and another empty glass sat beside it.

A very young man, about Rosa’s age, brought a bottle of wine, and allowed Master to taste it. She couldn’t believe she’d already comfortably labeled him “Master,” but after hearing Rosa use it often, it stuck.

He smelled it, tasted
it, and then nodded. The server poured a glass of the red wine for him, then one for Emma. Emma took a sip, and thought it was fruity but strong. She’d also never had wine.

She sighed audibly, and embarrassed she glanced over to see his reaction. He only looked at her from the corner of his eye, but didn’t comment. She also noticed two plates and a bowl stacked in front of her neatly, and several forks and spoons and knives. She stole a glance at him, as he unfolded his napkin. She did the same. Because she’d never done it, didn’t mean she couldn’t learn.

The young man removed the bowl and placed it to the side, then placed a small plate of bread and a small bowl of something that looked like chopped tomatoes with a dainty spoon inside on top of the plates. She waited and watched him, as he took a piece of the hard toasted bread and placed a small amount of tomatoes on it, then took a bite. She did the same.

Her eyes grew wide at the taste; crunchy, cool and spicy all at the same time. “Ummm…” she allowed to escape her lips, and then glanced at him again. He almost smiled, those high cheek bones forming perfect little circles beside his straight nose. The more she looked at
him
she wondered if he was American. And then she wondered if he could speak English. Maybe that’s why he was so quiet. The grin turned to a full smile, and she wondered why he smiled.

But she didn’t think of anything else as she took another bite of her food. She tried not to scarf it down like she did her breakfast, and thankfully she wasn’t as hungry as she’d been this morning. There were only two pieces of the toasty bread, so she only got enough to want more. And more there was.

The server took her small plate, and then placed the bowl back on her p
lates, as well as Master’s. He
carried a small white serving bowl from the kitchen, and filled her bowl with minestrone. This was something she’d had before, but from a can. This was homemade, with freshly chopped vegetables, small round pieces of pasta, and chunky pieces of herbs. She tried not to let another sound of pleasure escape her lips, but couldn’t help it. And he grinned again.

When that bowl was cleared away, she was a little shocked to see a small crystal bowl filled with sherbet placed in front of her. Was this the end of their dinner? She wondered to herself, but tasting the strawberry flavor of the iced concoction, she couldn’t be disappointed in the least. Even if this was the end, she’d enjoyed every moment of it. She closed her eyes, and allowed another
“U
mmmm
”
to escape her lips. This time she was not repentant.

To her surprise, another cou
rse was served. The small bowl
was
re
moved, and a course
of pasta smothered with grilled
chicken with a tomato sauce filled the plate, and she thought nothing could get better than this. She ate every bite, watching him carefully first to mimic how he cut the chicken and took small bites, then swirl the pasta around his fork.

After that came a leafy salad, with a vinaigrette dressing. She couldn’t say this was her favorite part of the meal, but she ate some of it. Then another course came, a puffed pastry filled with thick cream and topped with drizzled chocolate. He ate this with his fingers, so she did the same. Another napkin was provided, thankfully.

She’d got chocolate on her hands, and when she lifted it to lick a little off, he made a small growling noise. She could only assume it was disapproval, and she didn’t do it again.

Next they were served fresh fruit, like a fruit cocktail she had when she was younger, but even better, and a thick dark coffee. She tried a sip, and wasn’t sure if she liked it or not, so she tried another. It was bitter but good, and he politely placed a sugar cube in it for her.