Click on image to enlarge.

Category: Erotica/Fetish Erotica
Description: He Gave Her More Than She Bargained For! Margaret Crocker, Molly to her friends is graduating from college and in spite of her parents' wishes, wants to spend a year "bumming" around before starting a life of 9 to 5, husband, kids, cleaning, cooking and all that other stuff in middle class America. So, for some excitement she takes a job as a writer's assistant. Her first assignment? Be a kidnapping victim. But when she is kidnapped for real and forced into bondage the assignment becomes more than she bargained for.
eBook Publisher: Renaissance E Books/Sizzler Editions,
eBookwise Release Date: May 2009

6 Reader Ratings:

Great	Good	OK	Poor

Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [68 KB]
Words: 14868
Reading time: 42-59 min.

CHAPTER 1

Hi, I'm Margaret Crocker, Molly to my friends. I'm 21 years old, five feet four inches tall and I weigh about 110 pounds. I have dark red hair that is very full and comes down to just below my shoulder blades in back. It's not really curly but its very thick and has a lot of natural waviness, which makes it look like a mop. My eyes are really dark blue. People are always asking me if I wear contacts because they don't think my eyes are this color naturally. They are almost indigo. I think that I'm okay looking. Not pretty but not ugly either. I'm kind of small, 32-23-32. I do have perfect teeth. My Dad is a dentist and I had every possible service known to the dentistry world while I was growing up. I complained a lot as a kid, but now I'm glad because I do have a great smile and I like to use it a lot. I like my hands and I have okay legs. I'm a swimmer and I do Nautilus a couple times a week, so I'm in pretty good shape.

Well, this is how the whole thing began. I was just finishing the fall semester of my senior year at private women's college in a mid-east coast state and since I had taken an over load every semester I had been there, I was finished with school altogether. My parents didn't know it, but I had planned it and I had worked my butt off for three and a half years so I could spend six months just bumming around the country before I had to start looking for a job. You see, my parents have this puritan ethic about working. Spending time just enjoying one's self is frivolous and unnecessary. Of course, I was twenty-one years old and free to do as I wished, but I had to do that battle first and I was just not ready too. So I had made my decision. I wasn't going to tell them that I was finished. I would go home at Christmas break and return to school in January just as if I had another semester to go. Then I would leave from school and travel. I had been paired with this great girl for two years and she was willing to take my calls and I was going to check in with her each week to see if anyone had called. Plus, I had planned to call home every Sunday night just as I had for three and a half years. I would be free after January 12th. Now my only problem was how to finance my trip. So I started looking in the classifieds for a part time job.

I could work ten or twelve hours each week and then maybe a couple of weeks in January and make a few hundred dollars and be gone. I found a job with a pharmacy where I could work twelve hours each week and I made $7 an hour. I worked there until Christmas break, but having money my parents didn't know about was too much of a temptation and I bought things they had not wanted me to spend money on. The end result was that I was only able to put away about a hundred dollars. I figured I could wait tables along the road if I ran low on funds. But I needed more than that to start off. Then the weekend before exams for the fall semester, I saw the following ad in the local paper:

"Successful novelist needs creative research assistant for short assignment. The chosen applicant must be responsible and mature, with ability to interpret raw data and provide good oral or written support for surveyed topics. Must be willing to work very long hours for four brief assignments. Must have dramatic flair and be willing to engage in role-playing with specific purpose and scenario. Prefer recent college graduate with major in creative or dramatic arts area with good research skills. Must have weekends free. Lucrative pay and glowing reference for the right person. Call 555-8929 for brief telephone screening interview with a formal personal interview to follow for exceptional candidates."

I liked many things about this ad. First of all, it was for a short time, four brief assignments. It wanted a dramatic arts type. I was a theater major with a special interest in script writing. Mature and responsible, I am very settled and mature. "Someone who is willing to role play." I love role-playing. Plus I have weekends free after school is out. But the thing that really nailed me was the lucrative pay thing. I wasn't exactly sure just how much lucrative was, but I figured it had to be more that $7 an hour. So I dialed the number and this beautiful bass broadcaster's voice answered.

"Good Afternoon."

"Hi. I'm calling about the research position you advertised."

"Yes?"

"Are you the novelist who placed the ad?"

"Yes I am. My name is Grey McPherson. And you are?"

"Molly ... Margaret Crocker."

"So Molly Crocker, tell me about yourself."

"Well, I'm twenty-one years old and will finish a BA degree on Friday. I am a theater major, though for practicality sake, I did get a teaching certificate. I'm very creative, I'm responsible, mature, I love role playing, and I'm free on the week-ends."

"You mustn't even admit that you're inexpensive let alone free on the weekends, Molly Crocker."

With that he chuckled.

"Molly, I'm a novelist and have published nine novels. I am in print in eleven foreign languages. I write contemporary suspense. Since you are familiar with the theater, you understand method acting. Well, I'm a method writer. I like to create scenarios and role-play them and write what happens. When I'm onto something, I hate to quit just because it's the end of the workday, or even the end of the day for that matter. Does that sort of prospect frighten you?"

"No. I mean, how long do you work?"

"I've worked four straight days at a time. But that was when I was younger. I do want someone who is able to keep up with me for forty-eight hours though. That should be enough at a spell."

"Well I've certainly done that in college more than once."

"Are you squeamish about violence in novels? How about graphic images of crime scenes? That sort of thing?"

"No. I enjoy realism, if it adds to the story."

"Language? Are you a prude?"

Then it was my turn to laugh a little.

"No, I'm not a prude. Language, sex scenes, lewd and suggestive characters are all part of genre. I'm not easily offended."

"Do you get all up in arms when male characters are sexist?"

"Listen Mister McPherson, I grew up in a small mid-western city of about thirty thousand or so. Almost everyone I know has a dad who is the breadwinner and a mom who runs the house. I was never exposed to liberation until I got to college. And I still do what my Dad says ... well most of the time."

"Molly, I'd like for you to come for an interview. Let me tell you something else about the position. I need someone for about four weeks, at the most five. My biggest problem is that I started with someone else and after less than a week, she quit. Consistency is vital to the way I write. As a result, I will pay $10 per hour for the first 10 days, then $15 an hour for the next 10 days and then $20 an hour for any time over twenty days. If you work for 48 straight hours, and you're at the fifteen-dollar rate, then you'd earn seven hundred and twenty dollars for just those two days. That's what the ad meant by lucrative, just in case you're curious. The work will be done either at my home here or at the mountain cabin I have in the Blue Ridge Mountains about thirty-five miles west of here. You will also be provided room and board, and your laundry will done by my housekeeper. If you are interested in pursuing the next step, I'll give you directions. Do you have a car?"

"Yes I do. And yes I am interested. I can assure you that I won't quit after a week if you choose to offer me the job. There is only one problem though. I am going home for Christmas and won't be back until the twelfth of January. Would that pose a problem?"

"I don't know. Let's talk in person and then we'll decide. I'd like you to dress for the interview. I want to see what you would look like as a successful young working woman, one of the characters I'm working on and will have you role-play if you are hired."

His house is on a farm about six or seven miles from the city. He gave me directions and we agreed to talk at five that afternoon. I had to hurry because it was after three and he had said that it would take me a half-hour or so from the college. And I wanted to take a shower and dress just right. I figured that if I looked the part, I might just get it. I wore a dark gray skirt, a white turtleneck, a navy blazer, white stockings and navy pumps with one-inch heels. It was as "young working woman" as I had in the closet.

He was probably right about the half hour to his place, but as I got closer, I slowed down to be sure I didn't miss any of the landmarks he had given me in the directions. They were excellent incidentally. I had absolutely no problem finding the place even though unless you knew that it was there, you would never notice it from the road.

I don't know what I expected a successful novelist to live in, but I was surprised when I pulled up in front of the house. It was almost a part of the surroundings. It is made of gray stone and wood siding the same color as the stone. It is a large house with at least two floors and an attic with dormer windows. There is a deep porch across the front, and windows galore. It makes me think more of the northwest than Virginia.

A woman in a white uniform dress met me at the door. She smiled but never spoke to me, but motioned with her arm for me to follow. She led me to a pair of pocket doors that were slightly ajar. She pulled one open completely and motioned for me to go in. When I did, the door slid closed behind me.

The room was obviously a library. Its walls were lined with floor to ceiling bookcases along three sides. In a wall to my left there was a large fireplace in its center where a pleasant fire was burning. Opposite the door was a huge bay with four sets of French doors in it: two in its flat center and one pair on each sloped side. There were half circle windows above each of the three sides of the bay.

The furnishings were definitely designed for comfort. An overstuffed sofa covered in a navy, forest green, barn red and pale yellow plaid was centered across from the fire. Nearby were two matching high-backed Chippendale wing chairs covered in emerald green velvet. At the desk there were two round backed pale yellow silk armchairs. The desk, which sat in front of the window bay, was enormous and made of highly polished dark wood and had a glass top to protect the gleaming surface there. A seat of honor was the huge desk chair that like the wingbacks was covered in dark green velvet.

A Persian carpet of mostly off-white but with blues, greens, yellows and reds in the pattern was soft to the step. There was a border of polished dark wood floor about six feet wide around the outside of the rug. The space was lit completely and pleasantly by several lamps placed about the room to compliment the furniture groupings and to allow for any lighting needs. Most of the lamps were placed on dark wood pieces, a chest, two Pembroke tables at the ends of the sofa and a round table with three legs. There were two floor lamps. The walls were papered in a washed out red silk where they weren't covered by books and dark wood cabinetry. The twelve-foot ceiling was white but with dark wood box beams laid out in four foot squares. Recessed lights shown over the doors behind the desk and there were two brass chandeliers, one large centered in the room and a smaller version of the same design over the desk.

It was certainly a man's room, but very friendly and pleasant for a woman as well. What struck me as strange was that it felt cozy, almost intimate, in spite of its large size. This was no easy atmosphere to create considering the at least twenty-five feet length plus the window bay adding another four feet or so, and twenty foot width.

After the door slid closed, the man seated in one of the yellow side chairs at the desk looked up at the sound and seeing me, stood and turned toward me. He was every bit as handsome as the voice I had heard on the phone. He was just over six feet tall, with broad shoulders. My guess at that point was that he was about forty years old. There was just the touch of gray at the temples of his dark hair. He had a neatly trimmed beard and mustache both of which had touches of silver mixed in the dark hair. His dark corduroy pants, and white shirt with button down collar and long sleeves gave him a decidedly collegiate appearance. He smiled immediately showing a mouthful of straight white teeth, and moved toward me, extending his right hand.

"Molly Crocker I presume. I'm Grey McPherson."

His hand was soft and warm, the grip firm and confident.

"Hello Mister McPherson. It's a pleasure to meet you."

He motioned toward the sofa as he moved to one of the wing back chairs.

"Oh Grey please, and have a seat. Let's get to know each other."

I took a seat on the sofa and was impressed with the softness of the big cushions. He sat in the chair to my right. I looked directly at his face and he smiled, crossing his left leg over his right knee. I felt myself relax because of his leisurely attitude. I smiled at the thought that if he was this good with body language, what must he be able to do with written words.

"Tell me Molly, what do you want to do with your life?"

I had thought about this so many times that I knew right away what to say, I just didn't know if it would be what I actually would do.

"I want to write screen plays from someone else's novels. That's what I want to do. What I will probably end up doing is substantially different though. My parents ... no, its actually my Dad, is very practical and has little patience with wasting time, at least with what he thinks of as wasting time. So I did the necessary courses to get a teaching credential so I will probably teach drama or writing back home. Get married and have two point two kids. That whole middle class American thing."

"Does your Dad not like the arts?"

"I'm not sure what he likes. He is a pretty private person."

"Does he ever go to the theater, a concert, a museum?"

"I don't know. I've never been with him to any of those. He mostly just works. He's a dentist. Six days a week, Sunday and half a day on Wednesday off."

"Well, enough about him, more about you. Boyfriend?"

"No. I've dated a couple of guys around here. For most of a school year, one who was attending law school just over the mountain.. He was years ahead of me in school though. When he graduated I was only a sophomore. I only heard from him twice after he went back home to Alabama. I heard later that he got married. Even though he was older, he was still too young, I think. I don't really like boys my age. They seem so consumed with social status or money or career. I want to be with someone who wants to live and experience life. I want to see things. Touch them, smell, hear and feel the textures of life. Sounds nuts doesn't it?"

"Absolutely not. That's the method I use in writing. You already understand the essence of it. When I write about something, I want to have experienced it, or come as close to actually experiencing it as possible."

"Sure, that makes sense. And I guess I've pretty much decided to do that myself. I'm ... well ... I'm sorta cheating my Dad. As I told you on the phone, I actually finish school on Friday, but my parents think I don't finish until May. After I work and save some money, I want to just bum around the country and ... experience life some."

"So you're going home for the holidays and returning as if you're going back to school?"

"Exactly. My roommate will take any calls for me and I'll check in with her every week, call home every Sunday nights. That's what I've done for over three years."

"And you want to make some money to finance the travel?"

"Yeah. That's why this job has perfect written all over it. I mean, it even includes room and board. So I can save any money I make."

"Let's talk about the theater you've done. What parts have you played?"

"I've done several musicals. I played Lisle in the Sound of Music. That was the best role I had in one of those. I played the lead in Wait Until Dark. That's more like suspense."

"Have you written anything?"

"Yes, but mostly as assignments in classes. Last summer, I wrote a three-act play while I was on break. I worked as a receptionist in Dad's stockbroker's office. I had a PC with a word processor software package on it. When things were slow, I wrote. I wrote scenes at first. Then when I realized I had the time, I wrote a whole play. It wasn't very good."

"Every word a writer puts on paper is good. It may not be quality results but it's training, practicing the craft. I write scenarios frequently as drill. Most of them aren't worthy of publication, but they serve a good purpose. Plus, you've heard of a thing referred to as writers' block. I use writing as a means to overcome the effects of blocks. What was your play about?"

"It was based on a country song about a farmer and his wife. The farmer was upset because it was raining during the planting season and he couldn't get crops in the ground. But his wife was waiting for just such a day while the kids were in school so they could have a few hours together."

"Have you ever written suspense?"

"I've not actually written it. I have thought up suspenseful situations ... mysteries. Sort of like daydreaming."

"Do you ever read suspense?"

"Sure. I've read everything Patricia Cornwell has written. And I've read John Grisham."

"What of John Grisham did you like the best?"

"I enjoyed The Firm and The Client, but I think my favorite is A Time To Kill. I also read a number of things by Robert Ludlam. My mom read his stuff and it was on the bookcase at home and I was bored. I didn't think I would like him as much as I did. But its usually a situation of here is this everyday sort of guy and suddenly he's caught in the middle of this international thing and he has no friends. Everyone is on the other side and he doesn't think that he has the tools to deal with his situation."

"And Pat Cornwell?"

"That's easy. Her first book, Postmortem is perfect. It's simple. Really just one thing going on. And it's easy to identify with the characters. But I really liked all of her books. They're real. Real people in real situations. That's what I like best, regardless of what I'm reading."

"So how does that apply to the suspense stuff you've read?"

"Well ... they're all dealing with people thrust into situations not of their choosing, or if they did choose, then the situation is not what they expected it to be. I enjoy the uncertainty of what might happen. And to some extent it's the frustration of knowing what's going on and not being able to do anything about it. You know ... I always think that if I were the character, I would do things differently."

"Ah, so you've put yourself in the place of characters in suspense? That's excellent. That's exactly what I need a research assistant to do for me. Let me explain how I write.

"First I create characters. I write bios on them. Name, age, sex, hair and eye color, height, weight, education, family, clothing preferences. You name it and I try to create it. Most of the details will never show up in any final writing, but I feel that it's necessary to know the characters, at least the major ones. Then you know, to some extent, how they will react to a given set of circumstances.

"Then second, I create a set of circumstances which might be the focal point of a novel. I pick two or more of the characters and put them in the circumstances. I hire research people to play the parts and I record everything on video and audiotape.

"Then I talk afterward to the actors and get their feedback. I get to see the story unfold from my own perspective, then to talk with the other characters about why this or that happened. And finally I can watch it all on tape and/or listen to audiotapes after everyone is gone and I use all of that to write the real story. It makes the outcomes more lifelike."

"Do you ever play any of the parts yourself?"

"Yes, frequently. I like to play the adversarial role, or the villain if the villain is a man. That gives me yet another view."

I not only understood what he was talking about, but I was excited at the prospect of being able to do one with him.

"I know that this is going to sound like I'd say anything to get the job, but I really mean this. I think it would be exciting to be a part of one of your novels. The idea of creating a character in the flesh is really very exciting."

"Well, there are obviously drawbacks to the work the assistant has to do. As I told you earlier, I've just had one quit after only six days."

"Did she say why she quit?"

"Oh, there was never any doubt as to why she quit. She was very vocal about it."

"So, why did she?"

"Before I hire anyone for one of these parts, I always discuss where the scenario is and where it will probably go. When she and I first talked, I told her that there was a nude scene in the scenario. I also told her that it was perfectly fine for her to wear a flesh tone leotard under her clothes so she would not be naked. She thought about it overnight and when she came to work the next day, she agreed that it would be okay with her to do that. But when it came time to do the scene, she started a tirade about sexist behavior and how women were always the objects of abuse in suspense novels. Then she went on to a discourse about the fact that women characters in these novels were always beautiful and hadn't it ever occurred to me that most of the women in the world were just plain ordinary looking people. She said that she felt as if she were betraying her sisters in their fight for equality. Then she gathered her stuff together to leave. I told her that I was sorry that she was so offended, but that I wrote what sold and mostly men read my novels and they wanted what they couldn't have in real life. They want the women to be beautiful, smart, and needing their help. I also told her that I adamantly disagreed with her about the looks of most young women. I think that most young women are beautiful. There are very few plain women in the world. She wouldn't even take the money she had earned to that point. She said that if she accepted pay for what she had done, she would feel unclean. I was totally amazed. It is seldom that I so misjudge someone. I'd been impressed with her. The most surprising thing is that she didn't object to things I thought were worse in the scenario."

"Now I better understand some of the questions you asked on the phone."

He smiled good-naturedly and shrugged.

"I've never asked a couple of those questions before in my life. I do always ask about the language. Some people, particularly young women, can get pretty offended with the use of some language. I really don't like to disturb anyone's senses, but a serial killer will probably use some pretty bad language. And it will more often be addressed to his victims. The best selling novels have women victims. It is simply a matter of what the market wants. I would never harm someone, at least not if they weren't trying to harm me or my family, but my characters are often paranoid, schizoid, whackos of some sort. They are sinister, mean, evil, misguided people. If they weren't, they wouldn't be any fun."

I couldn't help but smile myself. He had described these awful people and pardoned them because they had to be that way to be "fun".

"So is this the scenario you're working on now? The one that she walked out on?"

"Yes. I've invested a great deal of time into the story and I intend to finish it. Somewhere there is a woman who can pull it off. No pun intended."

I only needed a second of thought to know where I stood. I'm not a prude. Besides, there was something about him that made me know that I was safe with him. In truth, he could have been hard and fast and wanted the scene done in the nude. Hell, I probably would even do it that way!

"Well, I certainly don't have a problem with doing it."

"Splendid!"