Ruin Me, Mr X

SABLE

What does it feel like to walk into hell on a stripper's heel?

Ask me. I did it on a Sunday night.

The entire hotel had been emptied out just for me and whoever the mystery Mr. X was. I walked up to the receptionist's desk exactly as I had been instructed.

"Hi. I'm Parisol. The entertainment ordered tonight for Mr. X." I reached into my purse, produced the card Madame Lior had given me, and slid it across the desk.

She stared intently at the card before picking it up.

"Ah. He is expecting you. Come with me."

I followed her like a lamb to the butcher's hut. My heartbeat was pounding in my ears, behind the mask on my face-my eyelids were trembling.

Madame Lior had been very clear. If I didn't do this tonight, I would owe her more money than I could dream of making in the next five years. I would also not be allowed to leave the club, ever.

I would be stuck living out the rest of my days dancing on poles for wrinkly thirsty men.

"Stairs? Aren't we taking the elevator?" I asked.

The receptionist glanced at me over her shoulder without slowing down. "Mr. X prefers a more specific location. The private lounge downstairs."

"The hotel has a lounge downstairs?"

"I don't think you were paid to ask questions."

I pressed my lips together, unable to say anything else.

We continued to descend down the flight of stairs-her heels were even more pointy than mine... and yet she could walk perfectly on them. Unlike me.

"You look new. The others were always excited, forward-looking even. But you... you look like a rabbit that wandered somewhere it shouldn't have."

She stopped in front of a door. It was black and unmarked except for a single word etched at the top of the door.

Keep out.

"I... I'm not new." I lied. This was the first time I was wearing a ginger wig and a revealing red-sequined dress. "I'm just a bit chilly due to the weather."

She looked at me for a moment and then did something I did not expect, she held my wrist.

"I have a daughter your age. So I am going to tell you this. Turn around and leave while you still can."

A cold sweat broke across the back of my neck.

I wanted to tell her I didn't have a choice. I wanted to tell her about Madame Lior and the interest that had accumulated like slow poison over three years, three years of washing other women's costumes, scrubbing floors and swallowing my discomfort.

I wanted to tell her about how I had shown up on what was supposed to be my last night only to be told I still owed more.

I wanted to tell her about Grandpa at home in his wheelchair thinking I was still tucked in my bed.

Instead, I forced a smile.

"I can handle myself. Thank you."

She scoffed and shook her head at what she perceived to be stubbornness.

"That's what the last one said. But if you insist, I can't stop you."

She turned the handle and the door opened into a short dim corridor ending at another door. She didn't follow me any longer. She merely stood where she stood, holding the door knob.

"This is your final stop. I don't know if you're religious. But say a prayer before you go in. And know that even if you scream, the entire hallway is sound proof, no one is going to hear you."

And without another word, she stepped back into the dark and shut the door behind her.

My legs stayed glued to the floor, unwilling to move.

The girls at the club had talked about him in whispers, and fragments. The man who came once every few months and left no trace. They called him things and none of the things were kind.

"Come on Sable, you can do this. Be Parisol for the night, you can do this."

I pushed the door open immediately. A second too late and I might've run.

The room was pitch dark, I couldn't even make out shadows or outlines of anything or anyone.

"Hello? Hello, is anyone there?" My voice came out smaller than I intended. "Hello..."

"Turn on the lights, Miss Parisol."

The voice came from somewhere to my right and seeped into my spine like warm mercury. My hand searched the wall in the dark until my fingers found the switch.

The lights came up in a yellowish hue and I took in the dark walls and furnishing. A bed that hadn't been touched, and beside it, in a chair angled toward the door, he sat, wearing a fitted suit with one leg crossed over the other and on his face, a sleek mask that covered his entire face and left only his eyes bare. They were light grey in colour. I think.

He didn't look like the devil.

That was the thing that unsettled me the most.

The worst of devils never really looked like devils, did they?

He rose to his feet and by the time he reached his full height I understood what the girls had meant. He just expanded the room by standing in it. I held my ground, placed my purse onto the side table and stood with my hands at my sides and my chin up.

"I'm... I'm Parisol."

"I know that." His eyes roamed over my figure.

"You wanted me, here I am."

He circled me like a tiger narrowing in on its juicy deer.

"You have a nice signature."

I didn't understand what he meant until I remembered. I had signed a non disclosure agreement alongside the agreement to the series of medical tests. My handwriting, apparently, had been worth remarking on.

"Thank you."

The corner of his mouth curved up in what was not quite a smile.

"Your fingers are trembling."

I cleared my throat.

"It must be the air conditioner."

He pointed to the AC on the opposite wall, it was off-then he pointed to the lit fireplace without saying anything. I flushed in embarrassment behind my mask.

"I came here to be your entertainment tonight, Mister X. Can we just get to business already?"

SABLE

"T-Touch myself?"

I didn't understand what he meant.

"You heard me correctly, Miss Parisol." He stroked his mask lightly-placing his left hand on his growing bulge. "I'm afraid I'm very pent up tonight. Kindly strip, and touch yourself."

I swallowed, leading my fingers to the straps of my dress. Madam Lior had warned me not to act like a novice. A stiff fake smile stretched my lips.

"Ofcourse, Mister X."

I took off my heels, then my dress, then my inner gown until I was left in only a matching pair of red lace-lingerie. I looked around, there were no toys. The girls had mentioned that he usually kept an array of toys for foreplay, but I couldn't see anything.

"Mister X." He looked up. "Where are the-"

"Toys?" He leaned forward, simultaneously uncrossing his legs. "Use your fingers, Miss Parisol."

My fingers.

I was no stranger to the act of masturbating, but I was no professional to it either. The least I had done in years was squeeze my thighs together whenever an explicit movie got a little too intense.

"Is there something wrong?"

I shook my head.

"Ofcourse not." I climbed the king sized bed and leaned against the headboard before he could suspect anything. Come on, Sable. You just have to pretend to want this. I parted my legs and placed a pillow in front, to block his view.

He would take it for a tease.

I knew that it was the only thing that would be covering my sensitive place.

Both his hands were gloved. But after I heard the sound of a belt coming apart and hitting the ground, he took the glove off his right hand and revealed a wide palm with long fingers. I attempted to turn my eyes away when his palm wrist dipped past his waist line, but he wouldn't have any of that.

He snapped his fingers.

"Watch, Miss Parisol."

There was something about that sentence. Hypnotic and commanding. I couldn't bring myself to look away.

His fingers curled around something and his grey eyes darkened under the dim chandelier. A broken noise left his lips. He cupped something, and then he gripped it like a vice.

"It's been so long..." He groaned. I watched his pants get even more loose and his bulge-even bigger. His hands moved fast and eventually phased into a blur of movements my eyes couldn't keep up with. It was enthralling.

I hadn't realized when my hand crawled treacherously behind the pillow until a wetness coated my fingertips. My lips had involuntarily widened a fraction and Mister X's eyes remained fixated on my expression.

"There you go." He murmured and a fresh wave coated my fingers. "Slowly Miss Parisol. Draw stiff circles around your bud."

His eyes didn't wander anywhere else. Just my face.

I drew a finger on my pantie, right where my clit was pulsing against the lace.

"Ah!"

It felt like a jolt of electricity.

His groans became more prominent, rocking the walls of the suite. His hands moved fast, and then they stopped.

He rose from the seat and walked to the edge of the bed.

"Come." He gestured. "I want to see you, up close." My throat worked but I obeyed nonetheless. Crawling to the edge to meet him. "Good girl." His fingers curled around my chin, coaxing me until my face was level with his torso.

His thumb caressed my lip before taking a quick swipe at the lipstick, almost like he knew it was too sticky for me.

"Better."

His fingers threaded my hair-well my wig. He knew.

"Want to take it off?"

Madam Lior had warned me not to take any of my disguises off.

"No."

His grip became a little firmer.

"Open your mouth for me."

I blinked.

"Mm?"

He placed a thumb on my lip, then slowly pried a gap and slotted his thumb in. It was cold, hard. I couldn't move, I had never had someone else's finger in my mouth before. I used my head, repeating what I saw in movies.

My lips closed around his thumb in a suction-ready motion. My teeth grazed the flesh just short of lightly. The faint taste of liquor seeped into my taste buds.

In nothing shorter than a minute, I had his thumb buried to the hilt in my mouth. It seemed to spur him on because the tent in his pants only got bigger.

I had the sudden urge to see what made the tent.

"Wait-" He snatched away the pillow. A brow of his arched so dangerously I sucked the words back in. "Nevermind." I bit down on my lip in flush embarrassment that if he looked down he would see how damp my underwear had gotten.

He did look down.

But he didn't only look.

His left hand travelled lower until I felt his fingers cup my folds. I swallowed and counted sheep in my head, closing my eyes through the feeling of my underwear being parted to the side and a finger running up and down my slit.

A shiver ran through me when he parted my pussy lips with two fingers.

"Seeing my cock can wait." He rasped. Withdrawing and taking his thumb out of my mouth. Before I could inquire about the sudden change of his mind, my back collided with the sheets and my legs were held apart by my ankles.

"What are you doing?" His upper body found its way between my thighs and his knees met the ground.

"This."

His hands hooked into my waistband on cue and pulled my underwear down to my ankles, taking them off completely and tossing them somewhere on the ground. I gasped and shut my legs tight.

His lips nipped at my heel, then trailed a path upwards.

"Is playing coy part of your act, Miss Parisol?" He gripped my thighs and held them apart. "Because you're playing it very well."

"I...I..."

Before I could croak out a full sentence, his lips suctioned around my cunt and took a long wet swipe at my clit.

SABLE

I never thought I would spend my first morning in the city trying to sneak back into my own apartment.

But I had a grandfather to consider.

The alarm had gone off at seven. By the time I woke up, the bed beside me was empty and the entire hotel had transformed overnight into a busy lobby. I had pulled myself together the best I could, called an uber, and came back.

This was my first day at Saratoga Corporations. I could not afford to be late.

So there I was with my heels in my hand, my stomach pressed against the window ledge and my head halfway through.

"Sable." Grandpa's voice came from directly in front of me."What exactly are you trying to do?"

I froze like a deer caught in headlights.

He sat in his wheelchair with both hands folded in his lap.

"Are you trying to burgle your own apartment?"

"Grandpa... it's not what it looks like."

"My limbs may still be recovering, but my eyes work just fine. Where are you coming from?"

"I-I... Grandpa..."

"You're horrible when it comes to sneaking out, and lying. Think twice before you tell me a lie, child."

I slipped through the window fully and stood in front of him. Thankfully the coat covered my dress and I had taken off my makeup and wig.

I hated lying to him. I really did.

But I had to.

"Ivanna and the girls wanted to celebrate us moving out of the ghetto and this new job, apartment... the entire relocation." I scratched the back of my neck. "We did a lot of fun activities and I didn't even realize that we had ended up falling asleep out of tiredness."

He crossed his arms.

"Why didn't you tell me about this party?"

"Uh... she told me about it late, past bedtime. I didn't want to wake you."

Grandpa was quiet for a moment. But for some reason he settled on grumbling and not probing. Phew.

"Alright. I'll make you breakfast, go up and prepare for work."

I shook my head stubbornly. He knew very well that I overly insisted he focused on recovering fully rather than doing anything else.

"Grandpa, no, let me do it, I'll scramble some eggs."

He blocked me with his wheelchair.

"Child," he said, "I love you more than anything in this world. But your eggs taste like peppery cardboard." He resumed his path to the kitchen. "I'll make congee and steamed buns. No arguments."

I pursed my lips into a line.

"But..."

He disappeared into the kitchen before I could argue any further.

"Okay, Grandpa," I called toward the kitchen. "I'm going to shower." And apply some pain relieving tube cream to my joints.

His voice floated back.

"Then stop standing there talking to me and get going."

[AT SARATOGA CORPORATIONS]

The lobby of Saratoga Biotech was everything. High ceilings, pristine walls-i was too excited to name every peculiar feature. Unfortunately my nerves dulled the excitement when I realized that I looked like a mishap on a monday morning.

I had one shoe in my hand and I was limping barefooted on my left. Thirty seconds after I had gotten out of traffic, someone bumped into me. It was an awful collision.

At least my hair was still in place.

Christina was waiting for me at the desk with an expression that could only be described as profound professional disappointment. She was the outgoing assistant I was replacing.

A frown was evident on her expression.

"What is this?"

"I just need some glue for the heel. I'm so sorry I'm late I just moved into the apartment yesterday and the traffic was- "

"Excuses. Do you want to lose this job?"

I went weak in the knees with rising panic. .

"No, please, I cannot afford to lose this job."

She looked at me for a long moment.

"Your resume was impressive. I'll give you that. But you have no prior experience and there were candidates with considerably more influence than you sitting in that waiting room." She crossed her arms. "The boss's cousin saw something in your application. I don't know what it was, nor does anyone else. But he took a chance on you, and I am telling you now that if you waste that chance, there will not be another one."

My stomach tightened but I nodded.

"Come with me." She walked away and I followed, limping, past the reception desk and down a corridor lined with people who openly gawked as I passed.

We reached a supply closet and she pulled it open, scanned the shelf, and produced a pair of black heels.

"These should be your size." She held them out. "Return them to me first thing tomorrow morning. They are my spares. Do not expand them with your corn dog toes."

"I..I actually have medium sized toes..." She shot me a glare. "Thank you." I said instead and took them. "And congratulations on your promotion."

She grinned at that and then produced a clipboard and pen from under her arm and held them toward me.

"This is for his schedule. You'll use it to track everything ranging from meetings, calls, briefings, travel and all of that." She began walking again and I changed shoes on one foot and then the other while following her toward the staircase.

"He?" I nearly stepped on my feet. "I thought the boss was a woman?"

"The acting CEO was a woman, she is the boss's aunt. She has been transferred to oversee the Singapore branch. The person whose personal assistant you'll be is the head of the company himself. Do you have a problem with that?"

I shook my head.

"No. Not at all."

"Good. His name is Alaric Evander Leighton. You will address him as Mr. Leighton at all times. You will be formal and composed in his presence and you will not be... whatever this morning was." She gestured briefly at all of me.

I nodded.

"Understood."

"Stop shaking like a twig."

"I'm not. " I was. "Okay. I'm sorry, I'm just nervous."

First day jitters were a pain in the bum.

We reached the top of the staircase and she pointed down a hallway to the left.

"The first door is your bus stop, he's expecting his new assistant so don't bother knocking, you're already late. Just go in." She stopped walking. This was as far as she went. "And Sable," She said my name for the first time. "Try not to fuck this up for yourself."

"I won't. I promise. I'll try."

She rolled her eyes at the fact that I was still a nervous wreck and turned back down the stairs. I did one last touch up at my appearance, especially at my hair to make sure that it was still in place. And then I held the doorknob and pushed the door open.

I walked the hallway alone. Clipboard in hand, Christina's heels on my feet, hair still in place by some miracle of God, and I crossed my fingers and pushed the door open.

My boss looked up from his computer the moment I entered. His eyes found me before I had fully crossed the threshold and stayed there.

"Good morning, sir. I'm so sorry I'm late on my first day. Circumstances beyond my control happened, but I promise you it won't happen again."

He answered immediately, slowly with a neutral expression on his face.

"I do not tolerate tardiness."

"I'm really sor-"

Wait a minute.

His voice,

His eyes...

That voice moved through me exactly the way it had on sunday night, like something poured into the base of my spine, and my response died halfway out of my throat.

No... It couldn't be.

My boss was... Mr. X?