The Blue Cantina: Anna's Surrender

Chapter One-3

Steeling herself for her ordeal, Anna climbed the three stone stairs and advanced to the door. She hesitated only a moment before ringing the bell.

Just as he had a week ago tonight, Devlin’s tall, lanky, male servant opened the door. He was swarthy, with jet black hair and a long, suspicious face. He was dressed in a black suit with narrow lapels and a thin, black tie. There were traces of grey around the sides of his head and he looked to Anna to be in his middle to late fifties. Last week, he had hardly said a word to her and he was equally unloquacious now, admitting her with a small, condescending nod.

The entrance hall to Devlin’s mansion was laid with shiny, gray slate and surrounded by deep bronze, polished oak paneling. An expansive, red carpeted staircase led to the upper floors of the house. Devlin’s office was off to the right. Anna slid off her gloves and handed them to Devlin’s servant who waited patiently while she removed her overcoat. He placed the gloves in the pocket of the coat and hung it in a closet embedded in the wall close to the entranceway. He signaled wordlessly for Anna to follow him.

The tall, elegant servant strode across the stone floor towards the entrance to Devlin’s office. His footsteps were quiet, highlighting the loud, echoing click-clacking of Anna’s heels. He was dressed in a dark, well pressed suit appropriate for his station. Anna wondered, as she followed him, how much he knew about the purpose for her visit. He undoubtedly was well versed in Devlin’s playboy lifestyle and she imagined that he had escorted dozens of Devlin’s conquests across this large, cavernous foyer. She also wondered how public her upcoming ‘relationship’ with the servant’s master would be. There would be nothing unusual in itself for her to have become enamored of the good looking, dynamic businessman. Eyebrows might rise among the Board of Trustees, but there was nothing unethical in itself for the executive director of the Center to be dating the president of the Board. Things would work out, they just had to.

The entrance to Devlin’s study was secured by a large, ornate, dark stained door. The servant opened it and stood back, letting Anna precede him into the room. It was a large room, lit by an elegant, central chandelier and finely chiseled, glass sconces on the walls. The lighting was bright, yet soft. The rug was a thick, gold carpet and the walls were painted a creamy off-white. Facing the front and side of the building were large, arching, French windows offset by long, thick, brown curtains. The room was divided in half with an expansive, leather couch facing the window, a wide and long, glass coffee table in front of it and two over stuffed, fabric covered chairs on either side facing each other.

Behind the couch was Devlin’s aircraft carrier sized desk. Devlin, dressed in an expertly tailored, light blue dress shirt and tie, was sitting behind it. His cuffs were bound by gleaming, gold cufflinks. Behind him, on the wall, was a large mural depicting a scene from antiquity. Anna had seen it before and deemed it appropriate for the hedonistic bachelor. It was called, if she remembered correctly, ‘The Rape of the Sabine Women’, memorializing the ancient Romans’ seizure of women to populate their nascent city. The fierce, Roman men, bandits really, were grappling with the buxom, semi draped, protesting women prefatory to hauling them off as captives. Anna had a new insight as to how the women must have felt.

Devlin was on the telephone arguing with someone about pricing and delivery dates. Anna did not see the servant leave and knew that she had been left alone with the fearsome man only when she heard the sound of the heavy door closing behind her. She stood for a moment, watching Devlin’s animated face but tuning out the conversation. Her heart was beating wildly and her arms were trembling. She was standing at the corner of the desk and was unsure of whether she should take a chair or await her prospective despoiler’s command. Devlin looked up at her, his eyes roaming her body knowingly and then directed his attention back to the call.

“I don’t care what your problem is,” he said. “You promised me Tuesday and it better be Tuesday or we’re going to have to revisit our relationship!....No, I don’t understand….Well, that’s your problem, isn’t it…I’m just going to say this one more time. Deliver the goods on Tuesday or don’t deliver them at all! And the price stays the same, got it?” He slammed the receiver down into its cradle.

Devlin looked at his watch and then up at the primly, but elegantly dressed, young woman. “You’re five minutes late,” he noted with disdain.

Anna was taken aback by his hostility. “I, I’m sorry,” she began to sputter. “I was…”

“I don’t want to hear your excuses,” Devlin interrupted rudely. “When I say seven o’clock, I mean seven o’clock. Understand?”

“Yes, Mr. Devlin,” Anna replied meekly. Things were not getting off to a good start. Maybe this was all a mistake, she thought. Her trembling had spread from her arms to her knees and she hoped that the callous man didn’t notice it.

“Did you bring the letter?”

“Yes, Mr. Devlin,” Anna answered. She could not suppress the tremulousness in her voice.

“Give it to me,” he ordered.

The frightened, nervous woman edged her way closer to the desk and reached into her small handbag. She had written four or five versions of the note, trying to set down the terms of the confession that the man had demanded in a way that would at least give her some wriggle room should it be disclosed and setting forth what she hoped would be extenuating circumstances. She had settled on a short and sweet statement: “I, Anna Addunizio, admit to embezzling the sum of $227,475.28 from the Wayne County Young Women’s Center.” She had signed it but left it undated as per Devlin’s instructions.

Anna leaned over the broad desk and handed the note to Devlin. While he perused it, she took a seat in one of the straight backed, padded chairs in front of his desk. As she sat down, she wiped her sweaty hands on her soft, light tan skirt.

Devlin looked up. “Who told you you could sit down?” he asked accusingly.

“N-no one,” Anna replied.

“Then stand up while I read this.”

“Y-yes, Mr. Devlin,” Anna answered obediently.

“And don’t give me all of this ‘Yes, Mr. Devlin. No, Mr. Devlin,’ crap. When I give you an order, just do it.”

Anna felt her eyes begin to water. Humiliated at the man’s coarse tone and brisk manner, she suppressed her polite reply to his churlish instructions and stood. She gripped her handbag tightly in her right fist as Devlin read the note twice. He put it down on his desk.

“Okay, that’ll do,” he said with finality. Anna felt like some terrible threshold had been crossed. He looked over Anna’s trembling form. “I thought I told you to get all dressed up,” he said, disdain in his voice.

“I-I did, Mr. Devlin.”

“You don’t get it Anna, do you? You’re a w***e now. An expensive one, I’ll grant you that, and maybe, to your own mind, for a good purpose. But you’re a w***e nonetheless and you’ve come dressed like your going to a PTA luncheon. I assume that that’s the best that you have.”

“Yes, Mr. Devlin,” Anna squeaked out. She was mortified both at Devlin’s coarse assessment of her new status in life and his insulting evaluation of her best efforts to look sexy. This was not starting well at all.

“We’ll have to do something about that. Have you eaten dinner?”

Anna was surprised at the question. She had, actually, eaten dinner—a bowl of soup. She had promptly thrown it up. She doubted that she could keep anything down now, although she was hungry.

“No, Mr. Devlin,” she answered.

“Okay. We’ll eat,” the man announced, matter of factly. He pressed a button on his phone. A man’s voice answered.

“Yes, Mr. Devlin?”

“Is dinner ready?”

“Yes, Mr. Devlin.”

“Set a place for Miss Addunizio. She’s to be our guest for the weekend.”

“Yes, Mr. Devlin.”

Devlin began to rise from his chair. Anna felt a surge of courage. “Mr. Devlin, you haven’t said anything about the money. How do I know that you’ll pay it?”

The sharply dressed man looked at her angrily. “Are you doubting my word?”

Anna courage took a steep dive. “N-no, Mr. Devlin. But the money needs to be deposited by Monday. I have to pay the Center’s bills and make payroll.”

Devlin sat back in his chair. “You’ll get your w***e’s wages Monday morning, Ms. Addunizio. It will be all cash and deposited in your personal bank account. You will then write a check to the agency. This will ensure that there is proof positive that you took the money. Is that all right with you?” His question was clearly rhetorical, but Anna answered it anyway.

“Yes, Mr. Devlin,” she replied.

“All right then,” he said. “Come with me. Leave your pocketbook here. You won’t be needing it.”

Devlin led her from his study back to the foyer and then down the long hallway to the right of the stairs. They entered a small, elegantly appointed room with a dark blue rug and light green, pastel walls. In the middle was a small, mahogany table set with fine china for two. Tall, crystal glasses of water sat at each place setting with sparkling, silver utensils on each side of the elegant plates. Devlin indicated Anna’s chair and she sat down. He sat down across from her.

Dinner was surreal after the coarse greeting the man had given her. His servant wheeled in covered dishes on a cart from the adjoining kitchen and served them both. Devlin peppered her with questions during the meal. How old was she? Where had she come from? Where did she go to college? His tone was, if not amiable, at least polite. Anna answered, at first, in short, direct replies, but when the conversation came to the Center and how she got it started, she became more expansive.

The meal started with a fresh, crisp, Waldorf salad and was followed by medallions of veal covered with a light, white wine sauce, small, roasted potatoes with rosemary sprinkled on them and crisp stalks of asparagus. Anna watched as Vincent, she had heard Devlin call his servant by name, poured out large servings of the pleasant, dry, white sauvignon. Devlin encouraged her to drink it down and insisted that she have a second glass. Anna welcomed the softness and warmth the wine brought to her body. It would make what she had to do later just that much easier to have her senses dulled. It also made Devlin seem just a little less foreboding, a little more attractive.

Vincent had cleared away the remnants of their meal and had served Anna a decaffeinated latte at her request. Devlin ordered and received a demitasse of espresso and a snifter of cognac. He leaned back in his chair after taking a long sip and perused Anna’s body. The room was ominously silent.

“Okay, Anna,” he said after a few moments. “Let me see your tits.”

The order was shocking in its callousness, especially after the refined and civilized meal they had just consumed together. Devlin’s insulting attitude back in his office had faded from Anna’s mind. This brought her right back to reality.

“Here?” she asked incredulously.

“Of course, here,” Devlin replied. “Are you stupid or something?”

“B-but, Vincent...”

“Let’s get something straight, Anna,” Devlin said harshly. “You’re my w***e. For one year. You do what I say, when I say it. If you’re not willing to do that you can get out right now. I have your confession. It’s all I need. You’re not my lover. You’re not my girlfriend. You’re my w***e and you better start acting like one. If I tell you to strip, you’ll strip. If I tell you to suck my c**k, you’ll suck my c**k. Do you understand?”

Anna’s eyes had welled up with tears. This was not what she had hoped it would be. She had been deceived by Devlin’s brief, polite treatment of her.

Anna’s unhappiness was compounded when Vincent reentered the room. He had a small plate of mints and, setting it down on the table, he started to brush up the crumbs from the delicate, lacy tablecloth. When he was finished he stood by the side of the room awaiting his employer’s desires.

“I’m waiting, Anna,” Devlin insisted. “Don’t worry about Vincent. He’s seen t**s before. And I’m guessing yours aren’t anything special anyways.”

Anna leaned back in her chair. There was about four feet separating her from Devlin across the small table. This was the moment of truth. Either she complied with his coarse demand or she didn’t. There would be no negotiation. Any chance that she would be able to convince the authorities that she had nothing to do with the theft of the Center’s funds was lost as a result of her confession to Devlin. So it was either suffer the shame and humiliation of being her cruel benefactor’s plaything or the scandal of being exposed as a thief.