He took me straight to my bedroom. “Stand over there.” I thought we’d chat a little, break the ice, before we got down to business. That’s what I had thought.
I said, “I respect the contract, Jasper. And I get spanked routinely and thoroughly. But don’t think I like it or even agree with the agency’s policy even though I appreciate the professionalism of the butlers the agency provides. I put up with certain conditions, yes, and part of that is allowing you to spank me. But I demand that you treat me with more respect.”
He wasn’t listening. “I’ve seen you before.” He looked me over. I said, “Jasper, I demand that you treat me with more respect. He confirmed his suspicion, “Yes, the magazines. You’re that model.” I looked at the cockhead and said “Was a model.”
His face lit up in a peculiarly perverse way. Petty delight described it best. “In fact, I’ve seen you everywhere.” I crossed my arms looked the other way, letting him know that I couldn’t care less about his voyeurism. “We know all about your upper class credentials, your Princeton education, your fine airs and modeling fame, your bad behavior, your snooty mouth, your disdain for proper etiquette. Your hot bottom. I also know about the doorman this evening.
The doorman was my friend, or at least I thought he was. He must’ve been coerced by Thisley. Thisley was obviously keeping tabs on me with everyone in the building, and he should have. That was his job. But he shouldn’t have. It stung. The particular doorman Jasper was talking about goes off duty when I return home from work. We’ve gotten quite friendly. There’s something about him I like and when he one day off-the-cuff offered me some weed we sneaked down to the basement boiler room. This has been going on for a while, a couple of months. Jasper could tell the co-op board and I could get thrown out of the building if the board found out and I’d never be let into another prestigious building again.
“Do you think it proper a woman of your position to smoke pot with the doorman in a Park Avenue basement boiler room?” I said, “Of, course not. It’s just that, well…”
“Jasper looked at me long and hard and asked, “Is that why I had to wait an hour for you? You think I like waiting for a little tramp?” He waited while I stared down at the floor to avoid what was coming. “You’ll confess to your sins then be punished, Ms. Dupree…”
End of Diary of A Rich Girl – Chapter 145, by Carrie
Diary of a Rich Girl to be continued…
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