Valerie received no more notes that day, nor the next, nor the day after that. She grew calmer, wanting to believe that whoever had done such a thing that amused him or herself all he needed and now, the whole sordid thing would be over.

She felt she could relax.

She did, however try to be a little bit more circumspect about Blair. She refused now, to fuck in the middle of the day and insisted that they both arrange to stay late, or that he sneak over to her place late at night and then steal away before dawn.

She was a little bit more reserved in her lovemaking these days too; she was very shocked to find out just how low she could sink and it scared her more than a little. When Burt called her a haughty bitch, he was not too far from wrong. Valerie had been poor, very poor and she was never able to forget that. As if to deny her squalid past, she cultivated the air of a cold, icy bitch. She knew that she was a real beauty and she wanted to use that beauty for some purpose, to some ends higher than simply pleasure for its own sake. She was used to men who could do things for her, buy her gifts, or find her jobs. Although she thought Blair was handsome, sexy and a great fuck, she never would have let him touch her if he hadn't been her boss.

She was a woman who wanted men to bow and cater to her, to put her on a pedestal and be prepared to worship. The afternoon at Bloomingdale's was the first time she had truly let anyone dominate her and she had made Blair pay for it in other ways.

He was as good as his word. He had managed to get her a raise and there was talk of a promotion. He had bought her, in addition to the lovely lingerie, two beautiful new dresses, an expensive bottle of perfume and an antique ivory bracelet that looked beautiful against her thin, tanned wrist.