Mistress Mommy by Carolyn Faulkner, Abby Collier Page A

theme was definitely continued throughout, everywhere except the kitchen, which was extremely modern. Everywhere else, though, seemed to be crammed to the rafters with gorgeous period piece furniture, or what could have been artful knockoffs, for all she knew.
    The house was mainly done in shades of maroon, with the occasional contrasting blues and grays, and the only negative Licia could see was that it was dark. The drapes at the tall windows were a heavy velvet or velour – she didn’t know which – and they blocked nearly all of the outside light. 
    The woman that answered the door was much younger than Licia had expected. She’d been picturing someone in her fifties, maybe even sixties, but the person standing confidently before her was probably barely out in her thirties, and maybe even not out of her twenties.
    It was hard to tell, yet there didn’t seem to be an ounce of makeup on her.
    She had jet black hair that fell in waves around her face and over her shoulders in an artfully careless style. She wore what appeared to be diamond studs in her ears and a matching diamond necklace, as well as a Byzantine gold thumb ring and a good sized diamond solitaire on her right ring finger. Her complexion was flawless, but very pale. No tanning booths for this lady.
    She was wearing what looked like some sort of elaborate robe that looked very much like the curtains Licia had noticed at the windows, very feminine with wide lapels, and showing a modest amount of cleavage by today’s standards, belted at the waist with a beautiful matching flowery print belt. She was apparently wearing men’s style pajamas beneath them; the shirt and very tight, straight legged pants could plainly be seen beneath the robe.
    The woman offered her hand. “It’s very nice to meet you . . .”
    “Alicia Barnes.” Alicia shook the pristinely manicured hand.
    “Alicia. I like that name. Very feminine. And you may call me Mistress.” Her real name was Margot, but very few people ever called her that. Certainly not someone who was going to be living in her house.
    Licia’s heart leapt to her throat. How was it that she had managed to step into one of her own fantasies in the middle of stodgy downtown Portland, Maine? This place could have been the scene of any one of the turn of the century Victorian porn novels she’d stumbled onto in Boarders! Call her Mistress? She had half a mind to run screaming from the place...
    Unfortunately, the other half of her mind was utterly intrigued by what was going on, and it was quite adamant that she stay and find out exactly where this was going to lead. She was safe – relatively. She patted the pocket in her purse that contained a large vial of pepper spray. Besides, Keri was her fail safe. She knew she’d do exactly what was needed when – and if – the time came.
    She’d become so preoccupied, arguing with herself within her own mind about whether or not she was going to stay there or not, that she forgot to pay attention to her hostess, who, annoyed that her guest wasn’t following her, came back to find Alicia still standing in the doorway.
    “Alicia, I asked you to follow me. You’ll find that I don’t like to have to repeat myself, and, if I end up having to do so, there will be unpleasant consequences. Follow me, please.”
    The “Yes, ma’am” that popped out of her mouth was entirely unbidden. Licia found herself following the older woman entirely automatically.
    She was lead into a beautiful parlor that continued the maroon, gray, and blue theme, with gorgeous reproduction – she assumed – pieces of camel back settees and gate legged end tables. Licia was motioned to sit at the end of one of the settees, while the other woman occupied a luxurious chaise lounge across from her.
    “Tell me about yourself, Alicia. What brings you to Portland? Why are you looking for a room?”
    Despite the circumstances – or perhaps because of them, in Alicia’s