Something New: A Locked in the Office Epilogue

The box arrived on a Tuesday, while Harper was on a call. I signed for it myself, carried it upstairs, and locked the bedroom door behind me. I am extremely nervous.

This is different from usual. Usually Harper’s urgency is part of it, the proof that I’ve gotten to her, the evidence of her desire made physical in the speed of her hands. But tonight she moves with the patience of someone who intends to savor every second, and the difference is exquisite and slightly terrifying. She props herself above me on both hands and just looks at me for a moment, the key swinging forward from her throat and hanging between us.

“White,” she says.

“Do you like it?”

“I picked your wardrobe for a year,” she says, “and you never once looked like this.”

“You’re welcome. It wasn’t easy to get this thing on, you know. It took some practice.”

Something moves across her face. “I know. I heard you up here.” She traces one finger down the center of the corset, from the top of the boning to the bow on my panties, and stops there. The pressure through the white satin makes my cage swell pointlessly against its bars. “What were you thinking about, when you were getting dressed?”

I squirm under her gaze. “You.”