Chapter 7: Leave of Absence

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! This woman was driving me crazy. Not one day had gone by in the past seven years that I didn’t want to tell her how much I fucking loved her. But my life was different. I wasn’t capable of love. Not the kind she needed and definitely not the kind she deserved. Mr Baker had entrusted me with his daughter’s safety for 10 years and I wasn’t about to let anything or anyone slip through the cracks. Including myself.

When I was assigned to her, she had been calling me Mr Stalker for the entire summer before school started. I didn’t mind. I had moved to London because I wanted to leave behind my past and calling me Mr Walker-Campbell every five minutes would have just brought up everything that I didn’t need to remember. Mr Baker had called me into his office two days before school was due to start.

“She can’t keep calling you Mr Stalker. She drops the mister and calls you Stalker out in public. I can’t deal with her teenaged tantrums. Have you been correcting her, Mr Walker-Campbell?” Mr Baker asked.

“No, sir, I have not, it’s a mouthful and I don’t suspect she will listen.” I admitted.

“If she does that in school, well…” He thought out loud. “Does she call you Nolan?”

“No, Mr Baker, she has only been calling me by her given name, Stalker.”

“I don’t know what to do. If you’re in public, anywhere else but school where they know who you actually are, and she does that… there could be a lot of trouble for you and whilst I can rectify things, for that period of time, when, say, you’re arrested or detained, she will be unprotected.” Mr Baker deliberated.

“A suggestion, Mr Baker?” I hadn’t thought about it before, but that seemed like the right time.

“Go ahead, Mr Walker-Campbell.”

“What if I legally change my surname to Stalker?” I mused.

“Then your IDs will have that name and anyone stopping you as a result of Felicity calling you Mr Stalker, or just Stalker, will likely leave you alone.” Mr Baker caught on to my line of thought. “Your mother and father’s family names, I understand.”

“Yes, Mr Baker.” I acknowledged his assumption. I didn’t want anything to do with the man who had left my mother when she was pregnant with my little sister and drank his way to breaking into someone’s house and raping a woman. He was no father to me since then. I didn’t need him or anything to do with him. Including the name Campbell. But, Walker-Stalker sounded equally as jarring as the name I was born with and I’d have to drop my mother’s family name if I wanted the best for the two people I cared for most in this world. My mother and little sister were all the family I had and all the family I needed. My sister hadn’t taken on my father’s name as my mother had divorced him before Isabelle Walker was born. She had turned 11 at the end of previous year and was due to start secondary school in the coming new term. I wouldn’t have left her and my mother but I needed a job. This job. Nothing paid as much as a 24-hour security agent for a billionaire’s daughter. All the money I made would be spent to make sure my mother and sister never had to want for anything. Most of all, it was an opportunity to work on my security software. An opportunity to make sure every woman in the country had the option to protect their home. An opportunity to ensure there were safeguards so no drunk fucker could ever get to them in a place where they should have been safe.

“You’re alright with changing your family name?” Mr Baker asked.

“It’s not one I have much attachment to.” I came clean about exactly why I wanted nothing to do with my father, and of course, if his actions had any bearing on my being part of Miss Baker’s security detail, I would happily walk away.

“No, I trust your judgement and admire your honesty.” He said.

“I am grateful, Mr Baker. I will of course be obliged if my family history isn’t brought up again.”

“Consider it out of mind.” Mr Baker said. He arranged and paid for my legal name change and started calling me Mr Stalker from then on. Miss Baker seemed frustrated that I had outsmarted her and soon after school had started, she swapped Stalker for Nolan. She was a good kid. Clever, feisty, outspoken, opinionated. Everything I would expect my sister to turn into over the years. What I most liked about the recalcitrant 14-year-old was her humbleness, and indifference for her father’s money which she quickly renounced once she finished her undergraduate degree and had him pay for her masters in full, upfront. She had a smart brain on her.

Before our first kiss, Miss Baker was nothing more to me than a means to an end. She was as important to me as a stethoscope to a general practitioner; computer to a technology nerd; paintbrush to an artist; scalpel to a surgeon. She was merely a fundamental instrument of my job.

I’d gone too far with her on the night before her 18^th birthday. As much as I tried to stay still and not participate when she kissed my lips, I lost all control the very second she moaned my name into my mouth. My cock strained against the fly of my trousers, urging me to do something. Fuck! She was good at kissing and I knew for a fact that I was her first. Her annoying, immature, fake friends from school had been teasing her about it for a couple of years. She’d pretended that she’d kissed someone, but I knew she was lying. I left all sense behind and climbed on top of her in the back of my Mercedes S350, like a horny teenager, at her desperate call of my name. I wasn’t though. Horny, yes; teenager, no. I was 22 years old but she was still hours away from turning 18. I was horrified at my own lack of restraint. Disgusted. Since then, I never let myself get anywhere close to uncontrolled, let alone that untamed. I carried a permanent reminder to make sure I wouldn’t break my vow of celibacy which I took that night.

I had to come clean to Mr Baker. I told him everything from the exact detail at the very start to how it led to my mistake. I told him about the idiot that groped Miss Baker’s breast. I told him about that twat’s black eye and my injured knuckle. How Miss Baker took me back to my car and kissed me. How I tried my best to stay neutral but couldn’t. Details of my unforgivable actions. Intimate details of her touching me. And finally, how I came to my senses and extracted myself from making any further mistakes. I assured him that if he kept me on as Miss Baker’s security agent, I would never let myself lose control around her again. Mr Baker thanked me for my honesty and let me stay. There were no strings to that. He genuinely seemed to have forgiven me on the spot. He even invited me to escort Miss Baker to the ballroom for her birthday party the very next evening. I’d taken the day to drive to Camden Town and gotten myself two tattoos. One on my lower abdomen – a simple and delicate letter F – to honour Felicity Baker. And the other – a Capricorn symbol, for her astrological sign, spelling out no – on the outer edge of my right index finger to remind myself why I could never lose control. Miss Baker questioned the one on my hand when the bandage came off a few days later. I lied. I said it was just the first two letters of my name and couldn’t go forward with the rest because of the pain. She would never see the other one. She didn’t need to know my real reasons for getting either.

Miss Baker definitely gave me a run for my money. She challenged me, pulled me out of my comfort zone and tested every last one of my limits and all the patience I had. She’d decided on dating pricks. I had no choice but to escort her on her dates. I’d take a seat at a table nearby and would be compelled by the nature of my job to watch as she teased those undeserving wankers with her beautiful smile, perfect curves, magnificent breasts, silky hair, just all of her. They never could appreciate her fully. On a handful of her cinema dates, I would sit a few seats away to begin with, but then she’d find some excuse to move closer to me or ask me to sit closer to her. I did as she asked. Always. She’d lean on her date’s shoulder but her hand would be holding mine. I was foolish to think I could continue like that, but I did, and 10 years in, I still do.

One unfortunate evening, she invited a dick to a hotel. We never went to her flat in Mayfair with anyone else. That was off limits. Rule number three. The hotel room I had booked for her was on the seventh floor. She got into the lift with her date and I let the two of them stand at the back while I waited, faced forward, directly in front of the door. The prick she was with couldn’t wait to get a room and started touching her sensitive parts, making her moan. I had to try so fucking hard not to kill that piece of shit right there. She got louder as we climbed higher in the lift. If, somehow, he made her cum, I would have lost my mind. Luckily for me, she said stop. But the wanker didn’t listen to her and I finally got to let out all my frustration in one swift push-and-pin of that asshole to the wall. I hadn’t turned to look at Miss Baker. I’d have lost control for sure. But that prick never came back, just like all her other failed dates which were always a one-time deal with her. I was continually left with a disheartened goddess whom I knew how to please. But, against the need of every fibre of my being, I could not. I had vowed never to cross that line. Ever. However tempted I became; however much she intentionally teased; I would not cross that line. That would be the one thing Nolan Stalker would not be able to do for Felicity Baker.

On Miss Baker’s 22^nd birthday, she had ordered a couple cheap sex toys. I’d designed my mobile application by then and installed it on her phone and mine. She was aware that I could see almost everything that she did on her device. From her search history to messages and calls. As well as that, when she went in and out of signal service area or her phone was switched off, or the battery fell below 25 percent, I’d get instant alerts. I rejected the delivery and gave the courier £20 to discard or gift the contents of Miss Baker’s parcel to whomever he wished. Miss Baker was fuming and wow, she looked fuckable when she was angry. But no lines were crossed. The same courier had handed me another package at the same time which I handed to Miss Baker in lieu of hers. She deserved good quality toys. Not cheap ones. For the next few nights, as if she was intentionally winding me up, I could hear her cum to the toys I’d gifted her. If only she knew how badly I wanted to be the one giving her all those orgasms.

When I’d gotten news on New Year’s Eve that my mother had passed, I told Mr Baker I needed to attend the funeral on the second of January. It was an hour before Miss Baker and I left the Mayfair flat to attend the New Year’s party. He said he would send Hamish and Griffin to take over and would send a car and arrange his private jet for my trip. He told me I should go and spend the day with my sister, in Scotland. I wanted to introduce my temporary replacements and let Miss Baker know I was leaving. However, she was entertained by some drinks, which she’d had too many of, and a nerdy looking man, who I identified as Mr Simon Stint, an assistant deputy manager at retail drugstore on Oxford Street. He’d lied to her about his identity. It wasn’t my job to tell her that he wasn’t really an executive accountant at a top 10 law firm in the city. I noticed her staring out of the glass panel overlooking the fireworks display outside. She looked perfect. Her eyes lit up with each passing second and her smile grew wider, until Mr Stint showed up again. She glanced at the exit and I started making my way towards her. As she started to walk off, the prick she was supposed to be on a date with pulled her back, called her Fee-fee and kissed her like he owned her. That was enough for me to take him down. Hamish and Griffin escorted her out. She knew the bloody code. She was safe with them.

I sent Griffin a text with the apology that Mr Stint would have to make. Word. For. Word. He’d gotten the order and better have followed through with it. Mr Baker had sent for me and had his private jet ready at my disposal for an early morning flight to Scotland. I planned on leaving after wishing Miss Baker a happy new year, but I guess I wasn’t as lucky. On my way to the airport, I called Mr Baker and explained everything that had happened at the club. Griffin would have the restraining order sorted and sexual harassment charges filed by the morning. Additionally, until the security system at the Mayfair building wasn’t upgraded to Stalker’s Eye, I wasn’t letting Miss Baker go back there without me.

Mr Baker had invested a fortune in Stalker’s Eye and helped me get word out that it existed. He had implemented the security system in all his private and business settings and with his help, a handful of his client’s and business acquaintances had also brought subscriptions and equipment off of me for residential use. Stalker’s Eye was already a million-pound company for its established undertaking in the business security front, but now, with the go-ahead from the Mayfair building managers, this system was going to get the boost it needed in the home security industry.

I’d flown back early this morning and sorted out the installation. Corey, newly recruited on Miss Baker’s security detail, pinged his location to me as he took over from Griffin. I was meant to surprise Miss Baker but she slipped him. I was watching Corey wait outside the ladies’ toilets at the boutique on Saville Row. This was unlike her. She wouldn’t be at a place like that unless she had to be, or she had a mischievous plan. She was alone, not with Rebecca or Cynthia. I noticed a woman going into the toilets after her. When Miss Baker walked out in that woman’s jacket and scarf, she forgot to change her walking style to match. Corey wouldn’t have picked it up. No one else would have. I stayed a couple meters behind and followed her into the bar on the corner of Mayfair. Did she really think she would get away? She’d made eye contact with me as she stepped in and I knew she recognised me. I stayed distant. Either she was playing me, or she had met a decent-looking man in the past two days that she was on a date with. After scrutinising him, I stepped outside and researched every last detail there was to know about him. I kept a watch through the bar’s camera and microphone. He seemed genuine and hadn’t lied to her about who he was, at least.

I’d avoided every question about my two days away that Miss Baker asked. I didn’t need to trouble her with the details of my mother’s passing so close to her birthday followed by the anniversary of her mother’s passing. I’d tell her if there came a need. And there wouldn’t come a need. I thought.

After her outburst at MacDonalds, I brought her to Baker Manor. She confronted her father and revealed details that I didn’t think I should have been privy to hear. I tried to excuse myself, but she left instead.

Mr Baker handed me a new phone. I started to set it up, restoring the latest backup that had been saved on the damaged device.

“Nolan, what should I do?” Mr Baker asked.

“I’m unsure what this conversation is about, sir.” I responded as the phone loaded from the backup.

“About Felicity. You know her better than I do.” He sat on his chair and gestured for me to sit too.

“I believe she wants some privacy in her life. It’s only fair that she gets to live as unrestricted and free as any other human. She believes it’s a basic human right.” I said, because I agreed with Miss Baker’s view. She shouldn’t feel unable to do things.

“So, you think I should stop the PECS initiative?” Mr Baker asked, reluctantly.

“I believe that the protection isn’t needed at such close proximity anymore; the escorting can be limited to certain events if requested by Miss Baker; the chauffeuring can be scrapped entirely; and I agree that I should be taken out of the equation too.” I confirmed. I couldn’t admit, to him or myself, that her safety probably meant more to me at this stage than it did to her own overprotective father.

“You know she relies on you for a lot more than P. E. C., Stalker?” He said.

“Yes, sir, but I’m sure she will feel more at ease to advance with her personal life if I’m not in the same flat as her.” I said, dismissing my inner turmoil. She could bring men over and fuck them for one, but I wasn’t about to tell Mr Baker that or let my mind imagine her being touched by anyone else.

“And you’re alright with leaving her?”

“I’ll do what’s necessary for Miss Baker to have a safe and fulfilled life.”

“Nolan, son, I believe you will. But that’s not what I asked.” Mr Baker prodded.

“Firstly, I’ll vacate by her birthday. Within a few weeks, she’ll become accustomed to her new way of life. After a few more weeks, I’ll take my leave of absence.” The phone was set up. It had been an hour since Miss Baker had left Mr Baker’s home office to go to her bedroom. Had Ashworth given her the key?

“I take it I’m not going to get an answer from you.” Mr Baker said, nonchalant. “Anyways, how was Scotland? Is family the reason that you want to go back there?” He asked, a little more interested.

“Yes, Mr Baker. I have some personal matters that I need to resolve, which may take considerable time. I won’t leave without making sure the dissolution of PECS is still the best option for Miss Baker.”

“Thanks Nolan. Go, check up on her. Give her that stupid phone and tell her not to throw it into water again. I swear she does it to wind the two of us up.” Mr Baker smiled, shaking his head.

I nodded in agreement and excused myself.

I knocked for a third time on Miss Baker’s bedroom door. If she had sent a snap to anyone else, I needed to know. I wasn’t jealous – maybe just a little – but there were people out there that could spread rumours and those snaps would be public knowledge, which Mr Baker would be furious about.

“Come in!” Miss Baker shouted from inside.

I opened the door and stepped in, avoiding the direction of her bed where I could guess she probably lay naked. “Miss Baker, people can screen shot those images and…” I tried, I failed.

“Nolan Stalker.” Her breathy voice filled the air as her hands stretched up my chest. She pulled up the collars of my shirt, working her way to take off my suit jacket. I gulped, unintentionally. I’d become so good at ignoring all her moves. This wasn’t something unexpected. She’d done much, much worse.

A few years ago, she had pretended to have a nightmare – or maybe she did really have one, since we’d been watching a scary movie that evening – and she called me to spend the night in her room. I did, innocently thinking she just needed me there for security. I got into her bed, chaste, fully clothed and devoid of any immoral thoughts. As the night progressed, she had wrapped her leg around my thighs and started working her hand over my bulge, through my clothes. She was as awake as I, and knew exactly what she was doing. I tried, unsuccessfully, to move away. She pinned me and took off her shorts. My hands stayed with me at all times and my eyes closed in pleasure and fear, all at once. As she moved her hand over my hardening cock, her fingers sloshed in the juices of her pussy and her moans got louder. All the noises, the smells, the thoughts in my head. I had to shut it all out. I closed my eyes tighter, if that was even possible, and gathered all my will to get out of the room. As I sat up, she pulled away. I locked my eyes with hers, which were full of lust and need. I knew I couldn’t go through with whatever was happening. Her hand gripped the top of my trousers and I took in a sharp breath, regulating my urge to lose control. Her fingers retracted from her folds and she pressed them against my mouth.

Fuck! I was going to succumb.

She smeared her juices against my sealed lips and started chewing on the corner of her bottom lip as she pulled back her fingers. I tried desperately not to taste or move my lips even. But it wasn’t possible. The scent and feeling of her juices made spit gather in my mouth and I swallowed. The sudden dryness made me open my mouth and as I forcefully shut it again, pressing my lips together. My tongue darted to taste her now that she couldn’t see that I literally had her juices in my mouth. Fuck! If I didn’t leave, I’d have cum at the taste of her.

I pulled out from under her and she fell dramatically on her bed. I wasn’t about to fall into another trap. I left her, untouched by my hands, and locked myself in my room to finish off what she should never have started. Luckily, I had enough restraint to override the camera in my room before bursting out of my lounge pants and wanking off to the memory of Miss Baker’s touch and smell and sounds – and fuck, fuck, fuck – her taste which was still on my lips. She had played me. Whether she was really scared or not, that was not happening. If she wanted, I would stay with her in the living room. Not her room. Not again.

Today was no different. I straightened up and caught her wrists, glancing down for a mere millisecond to assess the situation. She was dressed. Thank fucking god. I’d seen her naked a couple hundred times but my eyes and cock always wanted more. I dropped her hands by her side and reset my collar and did up my jacket button. She hadn’t undone it. But I shouldn’t have walked in here with it open.

“Have you sent any snaps to anyone else?” I asked.

“No. Just you.” She said, making her way to her bed.

I sighed. “Please, Miss Baker, do not send intimate images. They can be saved and Mr Baker…”

“I’m not stupid. The only person who will ever get to see me naked is you.” She said, and oh, how I wish that were true.