Pamela's first scene - part 2

The driver who her owner had sent for her was polite but distant. Once he had ensconced her satisfactorily into the rear of the car he said nothing else to her. Pamela did not mind this at all. She sat quietly and for a time looked out the window watching the world go by. Several minutes later however, she realized that she had not been paying attention and although she was quite familiar with the city, she had no idea where she was. Her driver seemed to have taken her on a circuitous route and her poor sense of direction had her totally flummoxed as to where in the city she could be. She was only aware that she was now finally in a part of town she had not been before.

Unexpectedly, the driver parked the car outside of what appeared to be a converted warehouse. Many well heeled couples in the city had chosen to buy warehouses with plenty of space and convert them into comfortable, highly liveable apartments, and Pamela assumed that this was one of them. Without turning off the engine, the driver turned around and said to her,

“We are here, ma’am. The fare has been paid for already. You just need to go up those stairs there and ring the buzzer for apartment 8. They are expecting you.”

She listened to the driver and she heard him all right, but she remained sitting there, staring at him, as if now that she had got there, she had second thoughts. The driver seemed to understand that she was in two minds.

“It will be all right ma’am. Off you go now.”

The driver’s encouragement was what she needed and she pulled herself out of her immobile state.

“Oh yes, of course! I’m sorry. I was miles away. Thank you.”

She took out from her purse a $10 bill and handed it to the driver. She suspected that the charge already included a tip but she did not feel right about leaving the car with the driver empty handed. It was her way to see that all the little details of life were attended to.

“Thank you, ma’am. You have a good day now.”

“Thank you, I hope so.”

Pamela closed the door of the car and the driver had turned the corner before she had made it onto the first step. She took her time to try to figure out where she was and take in the landscape, but she doubted she knew anyone in this neighbourhood and there was not a person anywhere that she could ask.

She made her way to the directory at the top of the stairs and immediately looked to see if there was a name she recognized, but in fact, there was no name at all against the slot for apartment 8. Recognizing that she had no alternative but to press the button and take her chances, she did so. The buzzer was much louder than she anticipated and it gave her a start. She felt a shot of fear and wondered what on earth she was doing here. There was no answer.

Pamela considered just walking away as fast as her legs would carry her, but she didn’t know what she would be walking to. She didn’t know where she was and she didn’t have a phone. She stood and thought, trying to clear her mind. There just didn’t seem any other way forward; any other thing to do. She rang the buzzer again, but this time she pressed harder and held the button longer.

“Yes!!!!”

“Oh! I’m sorry to disturb you.”

He sounded so angry and it put her in an apologetic stance.

“Who’s this??!!”

“Well...my name...my name is Pamela Thompson and I was told...

She heard a loud buzzer go now somewhere around the big wooden door. She nearly jumped out of her skin.

“Up you come!”

She tried the door and it was open. With a sense that she was making a big mistake, but then remembering that her owner had told her to trust him, she went through the door and climbed the two sets of stairs until she reached the second floor. There was an old style elevator but she had seen too many Alfred Hitchcock movies in her time to even consider getting into it.

She walked slowly up to the apartment with the small silver ‘8’ on the door and knocked softly, and then more loudly. She didn’t want the man to think she was lacking confidence or unsure of herself. She would have to bluff her way through this.

She heard a few heavy footsteps on the other side of the door before he opened the door to her. He was a man of medium height. He had dark hair and jet black eyes and he obviously hadn’t shaved in a couple of days. It gave him a rugged appearance as did the black corduroy pants and heavy work boots that he wore. His shirt was a pristine white which was rather a contradiction on this rather primal looking man. Apart from the white shirt, he could have walked right out off a ranch somewhere in the mid West.

He said nothing but he took a good look at her. He took her in from the top of her head to the heel of her shoe and back again. Finally, he met her eyes and held her gaze.

“Well, look what we have here! If it isn’t the little bimbo!”

Pamela was immediately embarrassed and a little concerned. Would she ever have admitted that her breathing was shallow and her mind (and body) aroused? Hardly. He was quite intimidating to her and despite her resolve to hold his stare; her eyes looked down at the floor in front of her. There was nothing she could do about that.

“In you come, little one, but you mind your manners with me. You are to do exactly as you are told.”

She could feel her ire rising with what the stranger had said to her. She wanted to tell him what she thought of him at this moment.

“Excuse me, but...”

“Did you hear me, girl?”

She closed her mouth and said nothing more. She thought better of her outburst.

“Did you hear me, girl?”

“Yes!”

“Yes, who?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good bimbo! You may enter.”

He turned on his heel and walked into the room. Pamela had no alternative but to follow him.

© Vesta, 2009