The Messy Maiden (2 page)

I
an paused
mid-sentence at the sound of the woman’s voice as it carried to his office. He forgot to listen to the man he was talking to. “Uh, I’m sorry I lost my train of thought.”

“Not had your coffee yet?” The voice on the other end of the phone inquired.

He’d drunk half of it then started making phone calls to clients. There were several big audits happening at the moment and he had to make sure that they all went smoothly. The woman who had derailed his thoughts laughed at something, her voice drawing closer and capturing all of his attention.

It sounded very familiar.

His dick started stirring as if it knew exactly why her voice was familiar. The Messy Maiden. Impossible. At least he hoped it was impossible. The idea that she could turn up here was horrifying. He tried to shrug it off. He’d always been careful. Always modified his voice. Even if by some cruel and random twist of fate she was here, she’d never recognize him.

“Can I give you a call back in a few minutes? I’ll grab that info you wanted as well.”

“That would be great. Give a better context.”

“Back in five.” That was so unprofessional. However getting the figures would be beneficial, so it wasn’t a complete loss.

Beth from HR knocked on his open office door. “Mr. Walker is the Audit Manager. Ian, this is Saskia Maiden the secretarial temp for the next four weeks.”

Saskia didn’t look anything like the Messy Maiden. Saskia had short honey brown hair and a small nose ring. The Messy Maiden had long dark brown hair…and purple toe nails at the moment. His gaze lowered to her feet but her toes were hidden by a very sensible pair of black heels.

“Pleased to meet you.” He smiled, greatly relieved that his fantasy hadn’t accidentally stepped into his reality.

“You too.” She gave a small prim smile. “I’m sure I’ll forget everyone’s name after this intro.”

There were no teeth in her smile and no sparkle in her eyes either. However her eyes were the same shade of blue, he was sure. But this woman had barely any makeup on. Her lips were natural not red or pink. But her voice…her voice was the same. It was unnerving.

And arousing.

Her gaze flicked to his eyes again, and for the first time in a very long time the old self-consciousness rose. He refused to look down. He held her gaze daring her to say something. He wanted her to say something.

Maybe the similarity was because she’d only said a few words; he was sure that if he had a proper conversation with her there’d be no similarities. He glanced at her face again and caught her trying not to stare. He was use to that. One brown eye and one green eye drew attention. It was why he always wore sunglasses when online with the Messy Maiden.

Hadn’t Beth said Saskia’s last name was Maiden?

A cold shiver ran down his back. He was going to need an extra strong coffee just to make Monday make sense. It was just a surname and he was just being overly paranoid. Saskia wasn’t her. She didn’t even look like her…but he knew appearances could be easily changed. He was putting way too much thought into this.

There was no way she’d recognize him even if it was her.

He was pretty sure the partners wouldn’t appreciate knowing what he got up to on the weekend, or that his subscribed to a website specifically to see a woman cover herself in food. His dick chose that moment to remember Friday night’s leg shaving and toenail painting. He’d stayed for the whole thing. There was something very intimate about being in a woman’s bathroom while she did that…it was almost as arousing as the sploshing when she covered herself in food.

Unable to stop himself from hardening he made a move for the door. “I need to moving, grab some files, but I’m sure I’ll see you around.”

The women parted so he could get past. He didn’t glance back. He was really off his game this morning. While he didn’t do it very often, he was going to close his office door for the rest of the day and hope that the temp secretary didn’t talk much.

Like the Messy Maiden, Saskia had a very sexy voice.

T
rue to her
word she forgot three quarters of the names. She always did. Ian Walker was hard to forget though. Aside from his eyes—which he must know drew attention—he had an angular face. Harsh but handsome. She wanted to see him smile. He had lush lips, and she bet that when he did smile it would light up his eyes.

Even if his eyes had been the same color, they would have still attracted her. They added an allure to his features. Maybe it was the thick dark lashes that gave them a softer edge. Like his lips, they were sensual instead of thin. Yes, if he’d been handed out different eyes and lips in the genetic lottery his face would’ve taken on a rather hard and uncompromising edge.

There was no respite even though it as her first day and she was still working out where to save documents and which printer tray had the letterhead paper. As a temp she had a few days grace to get it together and she always put more effort into learning the company systems than people’s names.

However she was aware when Ian approached and the way he looked at her…it wasn’t desire as much as curiosity. He placed some papers in the in tray. The usual occupant of this seat had obviously tried to clean up and de-clutter. Unfortunately she’d put it all in her drawers. A quick perusal had revealed her favorite football team, that she had two boys and a husband, and that she really liked purple stationary.

Perhaps she should leave her purple nail polish here for someone who would appreciate it? The idea made her lips curve, but the smile was halted by Ian’s presence. She was a busy temp, not a flirty secretary.

Ian paused before leaving. “Have we met before?”

She glanced up and smiled, lips together face in neutral. “I don’t think so, I’m sure I’d remember.”

He’d be hard to forget. And yet now he’d mentioned it…there was something about him…but she’d remember his eyes.

He frowned, his dark eyebrows drawing down and his lips pressed together. “Maybe our paths have crossed in the city.”

“Maybe.” Working in the CBD it was entirely possible that they’d waited in line at the same sandwich bar. Or passed on the sidewalk.

There was no way he knew her from her website.

No way.

She didn’t even look like herself online.

Saskia Maiden didn’t exist online. No social media at all, much to her friends’ horror.

Her alter ego, however, was everywhere. She glanced at him again…he was the kind of man that she would be interested in. Smart with an interesting face and while he had to have the most boring job on the planet—auditing was all about looking for mistakes and compliance issues, basically making sure everything was legitimate—she was sure that when he knocked off work and had a few drinks he would be fun.

She’d learned to pick which guys were trouble and which guys would be fun. The webcam work had helped with that. Most guys wore something to hide their identity, some only gave her chest to groin shots. She’d seen more dick online than she had in real life. Her name no doubt helped business as they assumed that she was a virgin waiting for the right man.

Ha!

Ian Walker wouldn’t be flashing his dick online. He’d be much too sensible.

Her smile faltered. He wouldn’t wear a mask that revealed his eyes either as they were too recognizable. There were however a few guys who wore sunglasses and hats.

Could he be one of them?

She shoved aside the thought.
Nope.
She wasn’t going there.

If he outed her, he’d be outing himself. And she was sure that he wouldn’t want that to happen. He was a manager, in a few more years he might make partner.

Ian looked at her again, and she had the sneaking suspicion that he was trying to picture her with long dark hair. This had never happened before…or if it had the guy had made sure to act as though he didn’t know her at all. So she’d never realized.

This was new ground and she didn’t like it. She liked to be in control. Maybe she’d judged him wrong and he was trouble. Some guys were interested in temps for all the wrong reasons, but he wasn’t leaning in close or putting a hand on her shoulder or being generally overfriendly.

“Maybe our paths will cross again.” He gave her a half smile as though he was interested in her and walked away before she could respond.

Not that she was sure what she’d say anyway. Was it possible that he was interested in her, the real her, and looking to make conversation?

Had it really been that long that she’d forgotten what it was like to date? Yes apparently it had been and she had. Well she was here for four weeks. She was sure that their paths would cross repeatedly. She hoped that would be a good thing.

T
hursday took forever
to come around. The Messy Maiden only ever worked from Thursday through Sunday, unless you had a private booking with her. Ian had done that a couple of times before. The first time had been soon after he’d discovered her site and he’d still been devastated by his fiancée walking out.

The second time had been after another relationship breakdown—there had been no food involved that time, she’d wanted to marry and have kids. He was pretty sure she wasn’t fussed who the father was as he’d heard that she found someone new and was married six months later.

Lately he’d only been logging in to look at her videos. At some point that was going to have to stop too. No wife wanted her husband to be looking at other women online. And while he could say it wasn’t porn as there was no sex involved, the fact that she got him aroused meant that it had probably crossed that line.

He glanced at the time as he opened up his laptop. The light was dim and he slipped on his sunglasses. If he turned off the camera that would be odd, as he usually had it on. Like always though he was dressed in an old t-shirt. One that he never wore out of the house.

The webcam was a separate part of his life with separate items that were never used anywhere else. Having been to the gym and showered, his watch was already off. There was nothing she could use to easily identify him.

Tonight he was hoping to hear her voice even if he didn’t talk to her. When she was online like this there were other guys lurking and listening as she talked to her webcam like someone was actually there. It was an illusion. He knew that, and he wasn’t fooled into thinking the show was for him. For a moment he felt a little guilty peeking into her life like this, but then remembered that he was paying for the privilege.

Tonight she was in the kitchen, wearing a bright blue bikini and doing some cooking. Her dark hair hung down her back and swished as she turned to grab a spoon. She had sauce splatters on her skin. She tasted the sauce of the spoon and smiled, then licked her finger.

Ian sighed. That wasn’t Saskia’s smile. He was wrong about her. Wrong or wishful thinking?

“Now for the béchamel sauce and then I can put the lasagna together.”

He closed his eyes. It
was
her voice.

The hair had to be a wig. And even if it was, what exactly was he going to do?

Ask Saskia out on a date because he thought she was the webcam girl that he’d been subscribing to for two years? If he was wrong she’d be horrified and if he was right she’d probably be equally horrified. As much as he liked the Messy Maiden, he was smart enough to realize that even if they were the same person, they weren’t. She was performing for the audience.

He should log off and go and watch TV.

But he wasn’t in the mood.

She somehow managed to make a cloud out of the flour. He smiled at her antics even though he knew they weren’t real. He could appreciate the effort and the art as well as the view. She was beautiful, and he liked the way that this never felt sleazy. There had been another woman who had done sploshing videos but somehow she’d made it seem dirty to be watching them. And her dialogue had been crude as if she expected men to be jerking off.

Which of course was probably going to happen, but not every time. Or at least not every time for him, and sure as Hell not while his camera was on.

Watching her was almost like being in the room with her. His smile widened. She had a good business model. And while he had no idea how many subscribers she had or for how long they used her service each night, he suspected that she didn’t need to be doing a temporary secretarial job to make ends meet.

Her kitchen looked nice and fairly new and her bathroom didn’t have a cheap look about it either. Aside from a bedroom, that was all he’d seen of her house.

If he did meet her in the flesh, he had no idea what he’d say to her. While some men lusted after supermodels or actresses he fancied the Messy Maiden. Like any man, though, he’d be lost for words when confronted with the reality.

She seemed to be perfectly comfortable cooking in her bikini. What had she done before this? He actually knew nothing about her, not even where she lived—Australia was a big place. Trying to find that out would only make him some kind of weird stalker and he didn’t want to be lumped in that pile.

He watched as she started to assemble the lasagna. There was a floury handprint on her butt. He’d missed when that had appeared.

Tonight had been fairly pointless. He’d learned nothing new, only discovered that he fancied her more than was healthy. Although according to his ex-fiancée he was a sick freak anyway.

He’d spent enough tonight and he should think about doing some cooking himself, or at least defrosting something. But he hesitated as she walked toward the camera.

She pressed something. “Hey Numbers101, you’re the lucky last.”

Huh, really? Must be. He’d never realized that she’d spoken to guys who stuck it out until the end. If he had known that, maybe he’d have stuck around for longer previously. Although mostly he just watched her new video or spent a few minutes seeing if she was up to anything exciting.

While tonight had involved food, she wasn’t covered in nearly enough to get him really going.

He checked his voice disguiser was on before answering. “Lucky me.”

“Do you like lasagna?”

He did. He’d very much like to know if she was going to take this further or just put it in the oven. But he didn’t want to be that sleazy guy. “I do, especially with a nice glass of red wine.”

She nodded. “Like this one?” It was a five year old bottle of Shiraz. Which she opened and poured. She took a sip. “Not bad.”

And now he was thirsty. If he had a bottle of wine and the lasagna he could think of a few things he’d like to do with her. It had been years since he’d actually indulged and licked food from a lover’s body. His ex had let him try chocolate spread, when he’d asked to experiment further she’d gotten weird and then things had started unraveling fast.

Since then he’d kept it to himself, which felt like he was lying.

“Yeah, like that one.”

“Got something you want to talk about Numbers?” She picked up the lasagna and put it in the oven. “I’ve got forty minutes until dinner is ready.” She smiled, revealing perfect white teeth, and leaned on the kitchen counter, revealing plenty of cleavage.

She was a sexy woman and she was talking to him. If he’d had a better imagination he could’ve pretended they were long distance lovers.

“Just thinking that I should’ve been making dinner.”

“Had a busy day? It’s late where you are?”

“Getting late.” He wasn’t going to reveal where he lived. “I went to the gym after work.”

“Me too.”

“You have a day job?” Was that too much?

She hesitated, then leaned back a little. Her gaze darted away. “Of course I do. Fitness instructor.”

He was damn sure that was a lie, but he wasn’t in a position to press.

“You?” she asked, the smile was back. This was a performance. He wasn’t seeing who she really was.

He’d like to get to know her better—but that was unrealistic. Maybe he should get to know Saskia instead; she was a real woman who he could ask out on a date. However his dilemma was still there. What would Saskia think of his predilection? Food and sex were interlinked with him, and the last time he’d divulged that to a woman, it had been all bad.

He laughed. “I’m not going to say.”

“You could’ve lied.”

No he couldn’t. He didn’t like telling outright lies. “Not my style.” Nor was racking up the dollars talking to her. “Got any plans for your next video?”

“That’s what you like?” She sipped her wine. He could all too easily imagine licking it from her body. “Videos?”

“Yeah, I like your videos. Very woman next door.” Not the hard sell that was rather…sticky.

“Well, have you got a special request, Sweetie?” her finger traced around the rim of the wineglass.

Ian swallowed. Perhaps there were benefits to private chats. “I like cheesecake.”

Her eyes flashed. “So do I. Chocolate?”

He preferred berry, but chocolate cheesecake with extra sauce…that was a video he wasn’t going to miss. “With topping?”

“And cream?” Her tongue danced over her lower lip.

Yes.
His dick had hardened just thinking about it. He really wanted to do more than watch. Surely not every woman would think he was odd? He needed to keep looking. Which meant putting himself out there and going on dates.

“That sounds delectable.” He tried not to sound horny or desperate.

She winked. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“I look forward to it. Enjoy your dinner.” He turned off the camera before she sucked him into continuing the chat.

For a moment he sat in his quiet dark study, then he took of the sunglasses and rubbed his eyes. He ran his hand over his erection, knowing there was only one way to get rid of it now. He should’ve showered after logging in, but then he hadn’t planned on wasting half an hour watching.

S
askia stared
at the blank screen. He’d just gone. Damn it. She immediately felt guilty for thinking that she could’ve strung him a long for a little longer and squeezed some more money out of him. Numbers101 was one of her few sunglass wearing callers. She pulled up her site and looked at the video views. He always watched her films, checking in occasionally and they’d had two chats previously.

She pressed her lips together. From memory he’d never flashed his dick at her either Perhaps he’d had to get off line to take care of himself. That brought a smile to her lips. They’d had a nice talk…he hadn’t mentioned sex at all. Or her tits and ass. That was all some wanted to talk about and they spend ages trying to get her to take her bra or knickers off. And she spent just as long being a tease. They all knew the rules. It was clearly stated on her site.

With a few more clicks she was able to check how many had actually logged in at the start. She suspected some logged in for just a few minutes to see what she was up to. Cooking wasn’t as popular as leg shaving…considering that many of the guys were on her site for the food performances, that was surprising.

In an hour she had a private chat. Tomorrow night she had three scheduled. By Sunday night she’d have made more that she did in a week’s worth of full-time temping. If she devoted more time to the webcam she could probably double that. But then her real world skills would get rusty and she’d be unemployable. She finished her wine and poured another half glass.

Thirty minutes until the lasagna was ready. She took her wine and flicked on the TV, pulling the throw over herself to keep warm. Sometimes she had people call in randomly. Sometimes she answered. Right now she didn’t feel like talking to anyone else.

Numbers had treated her like a person and that was nice. She didn’t want to erase that feeling straight away. Too often she came off a call feeling as though she needed a scrub and a shower. And sometimes she wondered if the money was worth it.

For about a nano second.

She was so close to owning her house while her friends were renting or had big mortgages. While she hadn’t bought in a flashy suburb like some of them, she’d rather have the house and no loan than be paying for the next thirty years. Of course that plan meant working two jobs for another five years.

Five more years…she was going to run out of idea for her movies long before then. She’d expected the guys to get sick of her long before now.

Saskia tucked her feet up under her and sipped her wine. While the TV filled the silence she was very aware that the only men in her life were anonymous strangers. And even her day job was transient as if she didn’t really exist there either.

No one really saw her. Saskia Maiden, the invisible woman.

T
he next day
at work it was business as usual. People spoke to her to give her work, the other secretary helped her out when she needed to know something but the older woman didn’t engage in chit chat and had already mentioned how glad she’d be when Tania came back from her honeymoon. However even being shunned within earshot was preferable to the insta-friend who wanted to know everything about her and tell her all the office gossip.

She wasn’t here to make friends. She was here to do the job and leave. One reason she liked temping was that the day job didn’t bleed into the rest of her life. However it also meant that even at work she was lonely.

The melancholy she’d been left with after last night lingered like an unwanted house guest.

Her life was awesome!

She had friends and work she loved and all her finances were in order. She needed to snap out of it.

As she was giving herself a stern mental talking to, Ian wandered over. She tried not to watch, or to hope that he was coming to talk to her. Maybe her problem was that she needed to get laid. She needed to spend some time with real men who weren’t hoping she’d take her underwear off…who was she kidding. All men hoped the woman they were with would get her gear off.

At least online there was no touching and no awkward kisses.

No first dates and no first kisses either.

No holding hands and no rush of anticipation.

Ian stopped at her desk and for a few seconds said nothing.

She gave him a tentative smile and tried to ignore the little sparks of desire that had appeared from nowhere and were now dancing along her nerves. What would it be like to be kissed by Mr. Severe? Her gaze dropped from his odd colored eyes to his lips.

Bet he knew how to kiss.

Bet he was really kinky and the whole straight laced auditor was a front. The little sparks of desire caught hold.

Bet he…she blinked. The shadowy face of Numbers101 surfaced in her mind. He had nice lips too and always wore sunglasses.

“Saskia?” Ian was frowning.

“I’m sorry I missed what you said?” Her face heated like she was peering into the oven. Last night’s lasagna had made a delicious lunch. The container sat on her desk because she hadn’t got up to wash it out yet. Whoops.