My Secretary, Cleopatra

Author’s Note

I know it’s been a while since we’ve heard from our favorite trio of kinky gals. In that, I have been remiss.

As usual, all characters are fictitious, play is safe, sane, and consensual, and don’t try this at home.

Enjoy!

WP

*

Prologue

Dear Friends,

I love my girls, I really do. But we all have our off days, and once in a while I get so wrapped up in myself that I forget to give them the attention they need—particularly when it comes to keeping their bottoms nice and rosy.

Fortunately, even when I’m careless about looking out for them, they’re still looking out for me. And if a gal’s got to be in a sour mood once in a while, I can’t think of any better way out of than the doting of my two lovely girls.

Love and Hugs,

Mistress Natasha

* * *

Part I – Much Ado About Mistress

At home, Charlotte

“Mistress. How would you feel about some new stockings for your birthday? I think I killed these.” I stood with the two pieces of wounded silk draped over my arm.

“Hmm,” she said.

“I know, Mistress. It’s too much like getting underwear for Christmas, isn’t it? I’ll think of something else.”

“No. No, it’s not that…” Mistress fell silent, staring heavenward.

“Are you thinking you should put me over your knee for ruining your favorite pair?” I smirked. “It’s been a while, but—.”

“Hm?”

“A spanking?” I wiggled my ass. “For ruining your stockings?”

“Maybe later.”

Later? I pursed my lips together and sighed.

“I’m not sure I’m having a birthday this year, Charlotte.” She stopped staring at the ceiling and turned to me. “I feel old.”

“Mistress,” I said, frowning.

She chewed her lip.

I walked forward and hugged her.

* * *

“You put a hole in her stocking?” Juliet said.

“It’s not about the stocking, it the way she looked when I mentioned getting her a new pair for her birthday.”

“Well, duh. That’s like getting underwear for Christmas. You want underwear for Christmas this year, Charlotte?”

“You’re missing the point,” I said.

“What are we getting her for her birthday, anyway?”

“I don’t think she wants to have one this year.”

“Everybody has a birthday. You need one so you can do stuff like driving and voting. It’s some kind of law.”

“She says she feels old.”

“Miss Natasha’s not old.” Juliet began pacing. “Well, older than me. But you’re older than me, too. Doesn’t mean anything. Why do you think she’s old?”

“Not me,” I said. “She’s the one who brought it up.”

“Well.” Juliet stopped and stared at me. “Did you tell her she’s not?”

“I don’t think it’s that easy.”

Juliet started pacing again. This time she was rubbing her chin. “What did you say?”

“Nothing. I just hugged her. She seemed like she needed a hug.”

“Ah, good. Yes, hugs are good.” Juliet spun on her heel and paced in the other direction.

“And, I asked her if she wanted to spank me.”

Juliet stopped short again. “Because she’s old? What kind of logic—”

“Because of the stocking.”

Juliet cocked her head.

“The stocking I put a hole in when I was—”

“My God.” Juliet fixed her gaze on me. Her eyes went wide.

“It’s not my fault. They’re probably her oldest pair. But, still—”

Juliet waved her hand in the air. “Not the stockings. The spankings. If Miss Natasha doesn’t want to spank us… you… whatever. If she doesn’t want to spank us anymore…”

“I know,” I said.

“Charlotte. We have to fix this.”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”

* * *

In the kitchen, Charlotte

“You really think paneer will do the trick?” I asked Juliet, as she stirred the big pot of milk on the stove. She was dressed like me—an apron and nothing else.

“Charlotte, if there’s one thing I’ve learned in my cooking classes with Miss Chowdhury, it’s that a good paneer can fix anything. Especially when it’s homemade.”

“I hope you’re right. She’s pulled out the Neil Diamond albums.”

“No.” Juliet stared, her mouth half open.

“Keep stirring, darling, it’ll burn,” I said, nudging her. “And yes. I’ve heard You Don’t bring Me Flowers twice already this morning. I’m surprised you missed it.”

“The Streisand duet? This is worse than I thought.” Juliet pursed her lips for a moment. “Get ready with the lemon juice.”

I nodded.

“What’s worse than you thought?” Mistress said from behind us.

“Hm? Oh, Juliet’s trying to teach me how to make paneer, Mistress. From scratch. She, uh… she thinks I’m going to burn it.”

“Oh.”

Juliet and I traded a glance. No words were spoken, but in her eyes I saw the same thing that was racing through my mind: ‘two jiggling babes standing at the stove wearing only kitchen aprons and all we get is an ‘oh’?”

“Squeeze me another half a lemon?” Juliet said. “I’m having a hard time getting it to curdle.”

“This paneer better be good.”

“I know.” Juliet turned her attention to the pot and stirred with bedava bahis a little more vigor.

“I’m going to see if I can cheer her up.”

Juliet nodded and turned back to her stirring.

* * *

In the living room, Charlotte

“Mistress?” I said. I had left my apron in the kitchen and didn’t have a stitch on me.

“Charlotte?” She was sitting on the couch, absentmindedly stroking Bella behind the ears, and barely looked up.

I knelt down in front of her and laid my head on her knee. Neither of us said anything for a while.

“I was thinking about making chopped salad for lunch. When Juliet’s done with her paneer.”

Nothing.

“You know, the one with the seared tuna? There’s a fillet in the freezer. If I put it in some cold water to thaw…”

“Mm-hm.”

“Maybe I should do that, so it’ll be ready by lunch.”

“I got it,” Juliet hollered. I heard the freezer drawer open and close.

I sighed. No comments about lunch. No lusty moans over my nakedness. No fingers in my hair as I lay on her knee.

I moved my hand to lay it across her thigh. “How ’bout a massage? It might help you—”

“I think I’m going to crawl under the covers and read. Would you let Bella out back? It’s been a while.”

“Sure, Mistress.”

She wandered off.

* * *

In the kitchen, Charlotte

“What the actual fuck?” I said, after hanging up Bella’s leash and walking into the kitchen.

“Don’t let Miss Natasha hear you cursing like that,” Juliet said. She was wrapping her paneer in a cheesecloth and packing it into a ball. “Last time I couldn’t sit down the next day.”

“Yeah? Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” I looked at Juliet. “See nothing happened. Nothing’s gonna happen. She’s… I don’t know… checked out.”

“Miss Natasha’s in a funk, that’s for sure.” Juliet was now bearing down on the ball with both hands, squishing it into a disk shape.

“Ya think?”

“And it’s spreading.”

I sighed. Then, I reached up and wrapped my arms around Juliet’s neck. She stopped smashing her cheese.

“Sorry,” I said. “I’m just worried. Everything I’ve tried… Nothing works.”

Juliet laid a hand on my arm. “She’ll get better, Miss Charlotte. These things take time. Like good, homemade paneer.”

“What if we take her somewhere. A weekend getaway? There’s this fabulous little bed and breakfast in Astoria. The weekends are probably booked, but maybe there’s an opening mid-week.”

“What about Bella?”

“Jo and Tina could watch her.”

“Well, it would have to be the week after next.”

“Why not next week?”

“Because next week we’re in L.A.”

“Oh, right, the thing.”

“The thing? The thing? A thing is something inconsequential, Charlotte. This thing is a movie soundtrack. The big kick-off meeting. Or did you forget?”

I chewed my lip. “Well, um, you’re the musical director, I’m just the hired gun on the keyboard. And thanks for getting me that gig, by the way.” I puckered up and kissed Juliet on the lips. “But it still doesn’t fix our Mistress problem.”

“Mistress problem.” Juliet snickered.

“We can’t leave her here alone. Don’t you see? She’s already deep into Neil Diamond’s Greatest Hits Volume 2. Volume 2! Think about what state she’ll be in by the time we’re back.”

“Well, we can’t just skip out on the meeting. Maybe you could, but I can’t pull the telecommuting card for the kick-off. It would be… well, it wouldn’t look good.”

“No, you’re right.” I sighed. “I’ll stay behind. Maybe I can—”

“Unless…” Juliet slapped the disk of paneer. “That’s it.”

“What’s it?”

“We take her with us.”

“Take her with us? She’d be all alone in a hotel in L.A. instead of alone at home. I hardly think that’s better.”

“No. Like keep her by our side at all times.”

“Right,” I huffed. “How’s that gonna work?”

“Secretary.”

“Secretary?”

“Secretary, personal assistant, whatever. It’s L.A. Everybody’s got somebody they’ve hired to mind the details they don’t have time for.”

“Um, I don’t—”

“She wouldn’t really be our secretary. I mean, duh, like Miss Natasha would ever go for that. But, it would get her in the door without anyone questioning her. Hell, she might even think it was fun. Like dressing up for Halloween.”

“What are we doing for Halloween?” Mistress came shuffling toward the counter with an empty coffee mug dangling from a finger. Her hair was a rats’ nest.

“Mistress,” I said. “What would you think about coming to L.A. with us next week when we go for the soundtrack kick-off meeting? It could be fun.”

“Yeah, sure. Why not? I’ve got vacation time to burn.” Mistress set her mug on the counter and reached for the carafe. “Are we taking the train? I’m kind of sick of flying.”

“Train. Yeah,” said Juliet. “Though, um, you’d kind of be going undercover.”

Mistress stopped pouring and replaced the carafe. She leaned a hand on the counter and waited.

“To get you in the meeting… You’d, um… I’d, um… Your ID badge bedava bonus would say you’re my personal assistant.” Juliet chewed her lip. “To get you in the door is all. Not that it means anything. I just don’t think there’s any other way—”

“Yeah, sure,” Mistress said. “At least we know I can fetch coffee.”

She held her mug lovingly in both hands, inhaled the steam, and shuffled off again.

Juliet and I just looked at each other.

* * *

Part II – VIP in the Studio

In the hotel, Juliet

“How do I look girls?” Miss Natasha stepped out of the hotel bathroom in a skin tight pencil skirt that hit a fair distance above mid-thigh. She had her hair pulled up in a bun and even a pair of glasses on a chain to complete the look.

There were stockings too, and probably some kind of heels, but once I got to where the glasses were nestled in the lovely valley of flesh straining at the buttons of her blouse, I had trouble thinking about anything else.

“Um,” I said.

“You look hot, Mistress,” Charlotte said. I noticed her jaw was on the floor, too.

“Thank you, baby. I even have a steno pad.” Miss Natasha held it up for us to see. “Got a deal online. Twenty-percent off.”

Then she reached up, moving a strand of hair to tuck a pencil behind her ear. I nearly fell over.

Miss Natasha smiled, and I swear her eye twinkled. “Do you think I’ll pass?” she said. “Or should I tone it down a bit?”

“Um.”

“It’s perfect, Mistress,” said Charlotte.

“Oh good. I want to fit in. This is going to be so much fun.” Miss Natasha tossed the steno pad on the bed and clapped her hands together.

“Um.”

“Yes, Miss Juliet?”

“Well, um. Miss Natasha, I…”

She flashed me a smile.

“Damn, you look hot.”

“Thank you, dear.” She pinched my cheek.

I felt a grin coming over me. I don’t know if it was the cheek pinching or the sexy barely there skirt, the stockings, heels, whatever. It doesn’t matter. What mattered was I just had the best idea to help Miss Natasha shrug off her funk and have a little fun.

The vibrating egg! I knew exactly where it was stashed in my overnight bag.

“I’ll be right back,” I said, and skipped off to the bathroom.

Charlotte called out, “Where are you going?”

“For you.” I held the egg in center of my palm, displaying it for Miss Natasha.

“I’m not sure this is a good idea,” said Charlotte.

I shot her the look of death.

“And?” said Miss Natasha.

“It’s for you,” I said. “In case you get bored in the meeting. They do have a tendency to run long sometimes.”

Miss Natasha shrugged and snatched the egg from my hand. She hiked up her skirt and knocked her underpants to one side. After a bit of fidgeting, she stood straight and said, “There. All done.”

Charlotte looked at me. “You sure this is a good—”

I stopped her with another death glare. “It’ll be fun.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Miss Natasha,” I said. “I’m going to need your phone.”

“Should I ask why?”

“I think you know why. There’s a certain app—”

Miss Natasha walked over to the dresser and picked up her phone. She managed to keep everything contained. She unlocked the screen and plopped the phone in my hand.

“I can see where this is going,” said Charlotte. “What I’m not seeing is how it can possibly end well.”

“Charlotte, Charlotte, Charlotte. Oh ye of little faith.” I opened the vibrating egg’s Bluetooth control app and tapped the burst button.

Miss Natasha inhaled sharply. I watched a slow grin spreading over her face.

“I really don’t see how—” Charlotte was interrupted, not by my death glare this time, but from a pleasant chime emanating from Miss Natasha’s phone that was now in my hand.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“Ask not for whom the bell tolls,” said Charlotte.

I gave her my best sneer.

“That would be an appointment reminder,” said Miss Natasha. “Come along, Miss Music Director. As your secretary, I must inform you we need to be on our way down for breakfast before eight, or we’re going to be late. And that will not give a good impression.”

“Um, okay,” I said. “But I think I should hang onto your phone.”

Miss Natasha shrugged. Charlotte looked me straight in the eye and mouthed the word ‘trouble’.

* * *

In the studio, Juliet

“Oh!” Tony, the producer, held both hands over his mouth while he gasped. We had just walked through the door.

He turned to me and lowered his voice, “Miss Juliet, you didn’t tell me we would be having the star of the show gracing today’s little tête-à-tête. I would have spruced up a bit.”

I looked at Tony, in his painted on jeans and starched white button down, complete with his signature cravat, and smiled. The man didn’t know the phrase dress down.

“Actually, she’s my secretary. And I thought we had Janelle Monáe lined up for—”

“Shh,” said Tony, staring. And, after regaining his composure, he turned to Miss Natasha.

“Miss Cleopatra.” Tony stuck out his deneme bonusu arm. “If I may.”

Miss Natasha smiled and draped her hand in the crook of his elbow. She threw Charlotte and me a wink over her shoulder as she walked away, switching her hips. I think she mouthed the words, ‘eat your hearts out, girls,’ but I’m not completely sure.

“What just happened?” Charlotte said.

“Well, Tony, the man who just absconded with our, um, secretary. He’s the producer. He thinks Miss Natasha is Cleopatra.”

“I thought Janelle Monáe—”

“That’s what I thought.”

“Are we going to let him get away with this?”

“He kind of runs the show.”

“I thought you were the music director.”

“I am. I come up with the songs and score the instrumental interludes. He’s the guy that makes sure it all sounds right when it’s mixed and recorded. Right now, this is his gig.”

“And he just stole my wife. I hope he doesn’t think—”

“Tony’s as queer as a three dollar bill.” I shook my head. “Honestly Charlotte, who wears a cravat?”

“I thought it was an ascot.” Charlotte grinned.

“Whatever. Nothing to worry about.”

“Unless you’re Janelle.”

“I doubt there’s been any casting changes. Tony’s probably just having some fun. He’s a bit eccentric at times.”

Charlotte turned her gaze to where Miss Natasha was standing in the center of a group of guys practically drooling as they chatted her up. Tony was introducing her around. She was doing her part, too, with a coy smile here, and a tucking of her hair behind her ear there. And when she moved her fingers to fiddle with the glasses she kept on a chain around her neck, I saw a few faces flushing as the guys tried to avoid staring outright.

“She looks good,” Charlotte said.

“And she knows it, too, apparently.”

“It’s good for her. But, you know what this means?”

“Half those guys will be thinking of your wife next time they jerk off?”

“Um, I wasn’t going to go there.” Charlotte pursed her lips for a moment. “I was actually going to say we’re probably getting our own coffee today. Since they think she’s the star of the show and all.”

“Oh, no,” I said shaking my head. “Her ID badge says she’s my personal secretary. She needs to hold up her end of the bargain.” I pulled Miss Natasha’s phone from my bag.

Charlotte put her arm on mine. “Let her have her fun,” she said. “It’s either this or Neil Diamond’s Greatest Hits… Well, which do you prefer?”

“Five minutes, then she’s fetching me coffee. Either that or I’m gonna zap her with the egg.”

“You’re awfully bold today, aren’t you? What makes you think—”

“Oh, come on, Charlotte. It’s just an elaborately laid out game. She gets to be somebody else for a while, forget she’s having a birthday. Tony gets to pull a good gag on the staff, and we get to have a little fun with it, too.”

“Be careful how much fun, darling, or your going to end up over her knee.”

“That’s exactly what I’m counting on.” I turned to Charlotte and grinned. “Watch and learn, little one. You’re in my town now, and this is how we do things.”

I heard Charlotte snickering behind me, but I held my head high as I strode over.

* * *

“Hey, guys,” I said, nodding to the semi circle of men standing around like lost puppies. “I see you’ve met my secretary. She’s a real looker, huh?”

My words were met with flushed faces.

“Sorry though, I’m gonna need to steal, Miss, um…” I made an exaggerated effort to look at her ID badge. “Natasha, is it? The temp agency really didn’t say over the phone.”

Miss Natasha arched an eyebrow as her gaze bored into mine. I persisted.

“Anyway, since we’re about to get started here… Natasha. I was wondering if you might find the time to get some coffee for my keyboardist and me.” I cocked my thumb toward Charlotte who was standing off to the side trying to look small. “We had a rather long train ride and we could both use a cup.”

Miss Natasha gave me the eye.

I noticed Charlotte heading for the corner, trying to make herself small and inconspicuous.

I reached in my bag and pulled Miss Natasha’s phone up so that it was just peaking out. I raised an eyebrow.

“Certainly, Miss Juliet. I’d be happy to fetch your coffee.” Miss Natasha narrowed her eyes for a moment. “Anything else?”

“Um, no,” I said. “Well, real cream. You think you can manage that, hon? None of that fake stuff. Straight from the cows teat for me. Now run along, doll, the meeting’s going to start soon.”

Miss Natasha took a deep breath, chewed her lip for a moment, and then turned on her heel.

“So boys,” I said to the circle of suddenly glum looking group of young men, “what’s new in the music biz?”

From the corner of my eye, I could see Charlotte shaking her head. I knew I was going to catch hell for this little charade latter tonight at the hotel, but for now, well, it was damn good fun. And that was precisely the point when we set off on this adventure.

“Your coffee, Miss Juliet.” As Miss Natasha pressed one of two steaming paper cups into my hand, a tiny bit sloshed over the edge. Even with the cream added, it was still plenty hot.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m so clumsy. I bet that stings, doesn’t it?”

“Um, yeah. A little.”