CONTENTIOUS ; NPCs (contentiousnpcs) wrote in contentious, @ 2008-11-30 00:22:00 |
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Entry tags: | * complete, npc, romilda vane |
Who: Romilda Vane, Robert Perkins (NPC)
Where: Museum of Magical Britain
When: Saturday Afternoon
What: Badness in the archives.
Status: Private/Complete
Warnings: Sexual Situations/Harrassment/Acts of Questionable Consent/Blackmail
Rating: NC-17 to be safe. Not Graphic, but for the wibble factor. DO NOT READ IF THIS BOTHERS YOU.
Romilda thought being alone in the museum on the weekends was creepy. The statues seemed to stare at her, some of them actually did so, and the exhibits were sometimes tempermental and liked to switch things around at times.
This morning, she'd been asked to come in and help with catalogueing for the winter exhibit they were doing. Textiles, Fireplaces, something, she had no idea really, as her job was to mostly jot down things and take notes for Perkins, along with dragging out dirty cartons from storage while he supervised.
Today was no exception. She was down in the archives with him, half kneeling as she examined a crate for the appropriate numbers, her long legs bent under her as she enjoyed the break from her heels.
"I'm not sure this is it," she said. "This one is C not G."
"C," he murmured, regarding her from where he stood. He didn't say anymore, only made a deeply appreciative noise in the back of his throat. Though Kimberly was certainly more qualified to do this sort of work than Romilda, Robert found that he rather preferred the latter girl to actually do the work. She was certainly taller than his assistant, and she didn't have the terribly atrocious carnival hands. It was a terrible deal breaker for him. He knew he could train Romilda to be a more than compitent assistant given time, the biggest problem was what to do with Kimberly... and what to do with Romilda. She was certainly far more receptive to his latest advances than Kimberly ever was. Still, he never asked Kimberly to come in and work privately with him. He really couldn't stand her damn little grubby hands, and he wasn't much for blondes.
"Yes, let's stack that with the rest of the pieces for the exhibit - then be sure to check the stop shelf," he added, turning back to his notes. He'd let her kneel far too long and thought he didn't particularly need anything from the top shelf, it would be nice to watch her climb the ladder and reach.
"Alright," she said, straightening up and brushing off her skirt before using the wand to move the box over with the others. After a moment's consideration she also used her wand to move the ladder, and kicked off her shoes to climb it. She'd break her neck if she left them on.
The top level of shelves was about fifteen feet up, and she was a good bit off the ground, her feet roughly at the level of Perkin's head when she started to look for anything they might have missed.
"There's some Mayan pieces up here," she said, pushing a box aside. "And... maybe this is the one you wanted? What was the number? B6?" It was cool down here and her lightweight blouse wasn't that warm. She should have brought her sweater.
"Yes," he murmured again, stepping up the the bottom of the ladder and gazing up to the aforementioned box... amongst other things. She really did have lovely legs - and always wore skirts, which was an absolute positive - made for easy access when one didn't have time. yes, Robert was sure with the right training, she'd be perfectly suitable for any task. "How about B10?" he asked, rest his hands on the bottom of the ladder, to 'support' it, of course.
She leaned forward to look, going up another rung of the ladder and bending in a bit, glad to feel his hands on the ladder as she always felt vulnerable up here. There was a B 10, but it was behind some other boxes, and she had to wiggle around a bit to get it down.
"I found it," she said. "It's..." She read the side. "You want floo powder tins?" Her voice sounded a tiny bit incredulous.
"My mistake," he tried not to sound to eager. He made sure to keep his eyes on her face when she was looking, but he wouldn't lie and say he didn't love the shade of knickers she was wearing just then. "Try B11." B11 was wrong, too, so he stood back a bit, knowing she'd be coming down soon. That was fine. He'd spent all afternoon watching her come up and down ladders and he was tired of it. He needed to move onto something new, something a bit more tangible than anything his eyes could provided. She was ready.
"Got it," she said after a moment. "This one probably. Poison phials?" She sent them down to the pile and climbed down the ladder, aware he was very close to it. She didn't mind too much, although he looked at her alot, that wasn't anything new, men always looked at her.
"I think we're done," she said, trying to sound like being here on a Saturday was the best thing ever. Really she did like her job, and she couldn't lose it. So extra time was alright, plus she got overtime pay.
He was glad she was so enthusiastic about her work - not overly perky like Kimberly. It would be beneficial for her to get satisfaction out of the job if he planned to keep her around.
"Good," he said, stepping closer to her. "You've been such a help, Ms. Vane," Merlin, he liked saying her name so formally. He could just imagine her now, bent over the stacks, begging out for 'Mr. Perkins, fuck yes, Mr. Perkins.' She'd be such a good little girl about it all. He took another step closer, taking a deep breath as he readied himself. He had to say just the right thing to keep her here, to entice her into action.
"I'm very glad you've fit in so nicely here with us at the Museum. You've been doing such excellent work - very proper and orderly. Top notch," he added, giving her a smile. He paused for effect, licking his lips before letting his smile turn into something else entirely, slow and lazy, like a satisfied hunter. "Do you like working here, Ms. Vane? Have we made it pleasant for you?" He could reach out and touch her, but he waited. Patience was key, he knew that at his age.
There was something strange going on here, the way he was looking at her bothered her a little, but she was also used to it. Men had been looking at her like that since she was fifteen.
"I like working here very much," she said honestly. "And yes, everyone here is very... pleasant." She wondered where he was going, exactly. With this. It never crossed her mind that he would try anything or do anything too untoward. He was her boss. Even as much as she and Kimb ragged on him, she respected that. It also made her proud to hear he thought she did a good job. "I'm glad you think I do a good job," she added.
"That's very good." He said, placing a hand on her hip and closing the brief distance between them. "We'd hate to lose you because we weren't challenging you enough." He inhaled the smell of her, young, fresh, supple girl. She wasn't quite a girl really, but she hadn't quite reached that jaded state of womanhood. None of the women his age had that youth and vitality a girl had, and girls didn't have the maturity a woman had. Romilda was at the perfect age, matured enough to be sexy, just coming into womanhood, but holding onto some sense of youth and naivety. "We'd like to challenge you as much as you'll let us, Ms. Vane."
Romilda's eyes widened as he touched her, crowding her against the ladder, and then his words hit her, and she had no idea how to say or how to react, did he think she wanted him? Had she been acting that way?
"I don't... Mr. Perkins..." He was pressed against her, and she could feel it... him... against her.
She put her hand out, on his chest, not quite pushing him away, her cheeks growing pale. "I think I'm challenged enough already," she said, eyes on his.
She wasn't pushing him away, which was good. She wasn't screaming in protest, which was better.
"Oh, are you sure?" he asked, his smile taking on a different look entirely. He let his hand trail up her side, dancing dangerously close to her breast, his thumb grazing the underneath of it just barely. "It seems Ms. Baker is challenging you enough - security tells me the two of you stayed quite the late nights here at the Museum recently. None of the work we've given you would require you to stay so very late, now would it, Ms. Vane?" It was a long shot. He wasn't sure how far threatening her for impropriety would go - and really, none of the other chairs would frown upon she and Kimb doing work after hours. The thought of anything more never crossed his mind.
He was touching her. Oh, God. She wanted to pull back, but he had her trapped against the damn ladder and then he brought up Kimb. Her eyes jerked up to the other man, and her lips parted in surprise. No one could know, could they?
"We were working," she said insistantly. And certainly they had been just at work. "What we do outside of work has nothing to do with anything."
Her hand reached up and wrapped around his, trying to push it away. Damn he was strong for an older man. For the first time she realized how far away from the stairs to the main level they were and how there was no one down here but the two of them.
"Let go of me," she told him. "Let me go."
He couldn't have been more delighted at her revelation. She and Baker? He might even reconsider Bakers carnie hands to see that spectacle. She really wasn't that terrible looking. However, first things first. Oh, Romilda had given him such an opening. How couldn't he take it? Poor girl. Poor sweet girl. She was going to look so sexy sucking him off.
"No wonder Baker was so careless locking up the Museum that night - was she rushing home to you, dear?" He did not let go. He cupped her breast in his palm and pressed himself fully against her, leaving no doubt exactly what he wanted from this situation. "You know her job is at stake, don't you Ms. Vane? That kind of information would decide the matter for certain. She has lost the Museum hundred of galleons in the theft - and she's certainly not wealthy. She needs her job, wouldn't you agree?" He leaned forward, his mouth precariously close to her ear, his breath hot against her skin. Merlin, she smelled so wonderful. The nubile temptress here among the dust and dank of the Museum's catalogues. It was terribly intoxicating and he couldn't help the pleased noise that came from his throat.
Romilda's eyes closed a little as she felt his mouth on her skin. She wanted to throw up. Her stomach felt like she was about to. But she couldn't. She could not do that. Not when he was threatening to fire Kimb and maybe herself.
She steeled herself, her mind turning off a bit, forcing herself not to think. Certainly she'd been in this situation before. Men she'd cared about had put her in this sort of situation before.
Swallowing hard, she opened her eyes and moved her head so she could see his eyes.
"You don't have to tell anyone that," she whispered. "Please." Her hand went to his shirt front, and she smoothed the fabric of his shirt, fighting down the nausea and the self loathing warring inside her.
"Oh don't we?" he asked, inching his face closer to hers. "It's a matter of Museum security." He had her. She was thinking it over. She was too young to care about a Museum so much, but she put quite a bit of work into it, which led him to believe she obviously needed the job. This was working out better than he'd hoped. All he'd really hoped for was that she'd be a wanton little slut who liked that sort shagging her boss or hoped to move up in the company. Stumbling across she and Baker's little lover affair added a bit of leverage and longevity to the plan. How long would Romilda pay to keep it a secret? Oh, this was so much better than he'd hoped.
"We could be persuaded to keep it confidential, we do pride ourselves on discretion, Ms. Vane - however, he pride ourselves more on a job well performed." He moved his other hand down to grab hold or her arse and press her closer against him. Fuck, he need that bit of friction. It helped renew his sense of purpose. "You can perform well, can't you Ms. Vane?" he asked knowingly.
Oh, fuck. Part of her was scared. If she pushed him away, if she tried to run, who knew what he might do. The other part was mercenary. He wanted her. That much was obvious. If she could save their jobs for that, she could do it, couldn't she? She'd done much worse for less, for a roof over her head or a meal when she was in Sweden.
His hand on her arse and the feel of him against her repulsed her. She wasn't going to do this, not like that. Maybe she could do this the easy way, get him off their back. Surely he wouldn't try this again? And she could try not to be alone with him again.
"I can perform very well, Mr. Perkins," she said coldly, eyes on him, some wall clanking down in her mind, closing off what she was doing, making it impersonal. This wasn't her doing this. It was some other Romilda, the same one that.... no. She didn't ever talk about that. Think about it. It hadn't happened.
She pushed him back, her hands going down to his fly, eyes on him. "I'm not fucking you," she said. "Let's make that clear."
"Ms. Vane," he said very clearly, reaching out to cup the side of her face. It was almost tender at first, and he gave her a bit of a smile before sliding his hand back and clenching it very firmly in her hair. "We are the employer and you are an employee." His eyes were serious, and so was his smirk. "Let's make that clear." Still, he wanted her to come back, or at least be receptive to repeat performances. He was a bit of a sadist, certainly, but he didn't rape. If- When he got her to the point he was ready for that, she'd be receptive. He'd make sure of it.
His hand in her hair hurt, and she bit her tongue to keep from crying out, wanting to pull away from his touch, but suddenly very scared to do so. More than she had been. Their eyes were locked together, and then he was pushing her down on her knees and fumbling at his belt, his hand still in her hair, not letting her go.
The floor was cold under her and hard, and she had to force herself to not start to panic to not start to just fight him.
"Good girl," he murmured, letting go a bit and stroking his hand tenderly through her hair. "We know you're very adept at your work, Ms. Vane. Very precise and energetic." He let his thumb trail across her check, his other hand grabbing hers and bring it up to the opening of his trousers. He used her hand, directed her to push down his trousers and his pants and his smile deepened when her hand was on him. "We want you to do your very best. You can do that, can't you, Ms. Vane?" He inches his hips forward and his erection grazed her cheek. Oh, yes - this was going to be just what he'd imagined.
Part of Romilda was gone. The part of Romilda that laughed and flirted and made fun of her friends. The only part left was the broken wretched part. The part that had made her lie to Kimb when she'd told her she wasn't planning on jumping off the bridge into the Thames. Because she'd been thinking about it that night.
It was the part that her father had made her and her brother through the things he did. And Cormac and Royden and all the other men who'd used her, who'd treated her like a thing and all she did was smile and take it and try to make them love her.
Her hand wrapped around his shaft, which was wretched and she couldn't force herself to look at it, her eyes instead on the tail end of his shirt, half in and out of his trousers, and then she was sliding her mouth over him, trying not to gag, a low little noise escaping her like held back tears.
This wasn't her.