by M. S. Parker
As I made a pile of things that needed to be shredded, the phone on the desk rang. I picked it up and reminded myself to speak slowly. “Good morning. Alix Wexler’s studio. Miss McNiven speaking.”
“You managed to get into the studio and he’s letting you answer the phone. Good work.”
I blinked. I could tell it was a woman, but that was about it. “May I ask who’s calling?”
“It’s Jean Holloman, Miss NcNiven.”
“Oh, good morning, Ms. Holloman.” I’d only spoken to her the once when I’d been hired. “If you’ll hold for a moment, I’ll get Mr. Wexler.”
“I didn’t call to talk to him,” she said. Her tone was brusque, but I had the impression that was simply her way. “I wanted to know how you were doing.”
“I’m well,” I said. “I’ve started organizing the office.”
Ms. Holloman barked a laugh. “Good luck with that. Alix doesn’t know shit about organization.”
“It’s a good thing you hired me then,” I said.
“That part’s needed,” she said. “But there’s something more important that I need you to do. It’s why I called you.”
I glanced toward the door. Something in her voice made me wonder if Alix knew about this conversation.
“Alix is rich.”
All right, that wasn’t exactly what I’d been expecting.
“Not like owning a Mercedes and a home in the Hamptons rich, but the sort of rich that could probably maintain the economy of a small country.”
I leaned back against the desk, suddenly light-headed. I’d already thought I would be out of my depth here, but that revelation made it painfully clear. I hoped Ms. Holloman didn’t think I was going to try to–
“The reason I hired you is because I knew you wouldn’t look at Alix and see a meal ticket,” she continued. “In fact, I need you to protect him from people who’d take advantage of him, try to cheat him out of what’s his.”
I nodded, then remembered she couldn’t see me. “Of course.”
“If you think someone’s going to do that, and you don’t think he’ll listen to you, I want you to call me. Will you do that?”
“I will.”
“Good.”
And then the call was done.
My head spun as I shuffled papers on the desk, my hands needing something to do. I’d need to shred even more of these things than I’d thought. I couldn’t risk anyone finding something they could use to steal his identity. I would be his assistant…and his protector.
I walked over to the door of the office and looked out to where Mr. Wexler was staring at one of his photos.
He seemed...intense.
I didn’t know why that particular photo captured his attention, but whatever the reason, he seemed to be caught up in those thoughts. I turned back to the office, knowing I couldn’t spend the day watching him, trying to figure out the type of man he truly was. I supposed I’d find out soon enough.
If he didn’t fire me first.
Which meant I needed to make sure I was invaluable.
So I went back to work.
I realized Mr. Wexler had a strange sort of order to his things. I’d always had a knack for seeing patterns, which sometimes gave me a different insight, and now, it was showing me that he was more organized than I initially gave him credit for. Not that it would appear that way to someone who couldn’t find the order under the chaos. Since my new job was to keep things in order, I decided to make my own filing system, but first I needed to clear out a few items laying around the office before lunch.
I picked up the various lens and parts, putting them all into a now empty box, then took a deep breath. As I stepped into the studio, the first thing I noticed was the lighting had changed, but it wasn’t because it was now early afternoon.
He was working.
He had an entire set up of lighting equipment with names I didn’t know and was moving around the pile of pillows at their center. His back was to me, but I could read the intensity coming off him in waves. I couldn’t even imagine being the focus of that sort of intensity, that...passion.
I couldn’t imagine having that sort of passion.
If my time at the temp agency had taught me anything, it was that a difference existed between a job I didn’t mind doing and one about which I was passionate. I’d seen that sort of purpose with my brothers for the family business, but I’d yet to have found my own.
As Mr. Wexler stepped to the side, I saw the subject of his focus.
An absolutely gorgeous woman.
Who was wearing very little.
Apparently, landscapes weren’t the only thing in which he was interested.
4
Alix
Six fucking hours wasted.
It wasn’t Giselle’s fault. She was gorgeous and willing to do whatever I wanted. She’d made that exceptionally clear, even though I always made sure my models knew it when they signed their contracts that I wasn’t part of a benefits package. She’d handled my subtle rejection well, but it hadn’t made any difference to the utter failure of the shoot.
I’d changed the lighting. Arranged and re-arranged the pillows she’d posed on. Gave her different costumes to wear, if those bits of lace and ribbon could be considered costumes. She’d looked amazing in them, each curve and dip of her body perfectly sensuous. But as gorgeous as she’d looked, I couldn’t capture the pure and true essence that made the difference between erotic art and pornography.
Erotic photography had been my bread and butter for years. Well, that wasn’t entirely true, since I had a trust fund so large that the interest alone was enough for me to live off comfortably for decades to come. Add to that my cousin Izett’s knack for wise investments and my eventual inheritance, I could’ve gotten away with never working a day in my life.
Maybe I’d taken my gift as far as it could go. Giselle was a new model for me, but I still felt like the photos were repetitive. Technically, they were perfect, exactly like all the others I’d taken. That was the problem. Like the landscapes hanging on the walls of my studio, they were beautiful, but not inspired. I could probably still get paid decent money for them, but I felt like I’d lost the sense of true art.
I pushed all that aside as I flashed my membership card at the doorman, giving him a polite smile as I stepped past. I wasn’t at Gilded Cage to wallow. I needed stress relief. If I was lucky, it would be enough to help me find my footing again.
I was late, so the others were already here. I made my way through the crowd to our usual table. The oldest of the group, Jace Randell, was already scanning the crowd, looking for a partner for the night. Like me, he wasn’t interested in relationships, but rather a pleasurable encounter without any strings.
My cousin, Erik Sanders, had been like that up until recently when he’d fallen for a sweet girl named Tanya Lacey. I’d never thought I’d see my cousin ready to settle down, but even after only a month, I could see that he was captivated. It’d been a rocky start for the two of them, but this past weekend, I heard things had changed. Erik had wanted us to meet tonight to fill us in on what happened.
Erik’s former college roommate, Reb Union, had a girlfriend, but he hadn’t brought her to the club the last few weeks. That, plus his recent increase in alcohol consumption made me think that things might not be going as well as they had been. I hated to see my friend hurting, but I couldn’t say I’d be sorry to see Mitzi go. None of us really liked her.
“Running late?” Erik asked as I took the open seat next to him. “I ordered you a Highland Park.”
I nodded my thanks and turned my attention to my cousin as he filled us in on what’d happened since last time.
Listening to his story, I was half-way through my second glass when I eyed a slim redhead on the dance floor. She reminded me of Sine for some reason. Maybe the hair.
As soon as Erik announced he was leaving – he was expecting a call from Tanya – Jace excused himself to find whoever had caught his eyes.
When Reb told me he was about ready to leave, I decided to go after the redhead.
Gilded Cage wasn’t your typical club you would visit to dance and pick up women. It was a BDSM club that catered to those of us in the lifestyle. Not only was this a safe place to express our sexual preferences without fear of judgment, it also offered rooms VIP members, such as myself and my friends, could enjoy without having to arrange a private space ahead of time. All four of us were Doms, though we each had different taste when it came to whom we found attractive as well as the particular aspects of our preferred role.
The redhead had kept her eye on me as she danced, so as soon as I started toward her, she stopped and ducked her head, assuming one of the usual positions a Sub would take when meeting an unknown Dom.
I was glad she had at least some experience. I wasn’t in the mood for introductory lessons tonight. We’d have a quick chat to ensure we were both on the same page, then set up our safe word before I took her back to one of the rooms. The routine was familiar, comfortable. The prelude to a few enjoyable couple of hours.
Many people outside the lifestyle think that everyone into BDSM enjoys the same things: handcuffs, whips, leather, and chains. The recent influx of modern romance books and movies with their bossy alpha males hadn’t helped change that impression. Sure, I knew plenty of Doms who were into all that but not me. No, my preferences leaned toward artistic bondage. Ropes and scarves caught my attention.
Which was why Rae would be trussed up on the massive bed that took up most of the far wall. As soon as we’d stepped into the room, I’d told her to strip, but there hadn’t been much for her to take off. Her tight, tiny dress had been the only thing she’d been wearing. Once it was off, she stood with her hands clasped behind her back and let me look her over.
Small breasts that were barely a handful, with tight pink nipples. A bare pussy, with the tattoo of a butterfly right above it. The name Rae at the small of her back in fancy script, which meant she was using her real name. No piercings or scars.
Once I positioned her on her stomach on the bed, I opened one of the drawers beneath it and pulled out a series of silk ropes. They were softer than regular ropes, and more colorful, which was what I wanted.
I turned on the speaker that pumped the club music in, so even though neither of us spoke, the room wasn’t silent. I let my fingers trail across her skin as I positioned her just the way I wanted, and her eyes followed my every move. I slid my hand under her, ran my thumb across one hard nipple, and saw her shiver. She whimpered as I parted her legs, brushed my fingers against her damp core.
When I finished, I stepped back to admire my work. Her legs were spread and bent, tied with the rope. I’d bound her arms behind her back too, then connected wrists to ankles. The colors of the rope showed up nicely against her skin. A perfect image.
Perfect image…
That was when it clicked.
I’d taken erotic photographs, but never anything like this. Granted, I’d never done anything quite so explicit, but this could be a good idea.
Rae wriggled on the bed, reminding me that this wasn’t the time or place to be musing on my artistic issues. I could figure that out later.
Right now, I had a naked Sub on the bed in front of me, and a body full of tension that needed release.
I walked around to the other side of the bed and moved onto my knees in front of her. I reached up and grabbed a pillow, arranging it under her chest to raise her up enough to keep her from getting a crick in her neck. Some controlled pain was one thing, but general pain was something else. Some Doms might have liked to make their Subs uncomfortable, but that wasn’t my thing. I never kept my Subs bound beyond what was necessary. I was all about the look and the control, not the pain. Not that I’d ever judge those who were into the more masochism side of the lifestyle. It just wasn’t me.
I brushed some hair away, stroked my thumb down the side of her face, let it brush the corner of her mouth. She wasn’t wearing much make-up, which was a plus. I always preferred the natural look, the more minimalist, the better. She was beautiful without it. High cheekbones and big eyes. She had the sort of lips I couldn’t wait to see wrapped around my cock.
For a moment, I had a flash of another set of lips, ones curving into a teasing smile, and wondered what it would feel like to have those in front of me.
I pushed the errant thought aside and reached into my pocket for a condom. Rae licked her lips as she watched me unzip my pants. I didn’t take them off. I rarely did when I was here. It was just sex.
I pressed my thumb against the seam of her mouth. She sucked it into her mouth, flicked her tongue against the tip, and I made a sound in the back of my throat. I rolled on the protection and put my hand on the back of her head, holding her in place as I guided my erection between her lips.
Her mouth was hot and wet, even through the latex, and I flexed my fingers in her hair. Shallow thrusts mingled with incredible suction had my balls drawing up, pleasure coiling at the base of my spine. She knew what she was doing.
I let the sensations wash over me until, finally, I backed away, sliding from her mouth with a faint popping sound. Her breathing was harsh, but as I moved around behind her, I could see how wet she was. Still, I slipped my fingers between her legs, parting her until I could stroke her already swollen clit. Even as I moved from making firm circles over that bundle of nerves to sliding two fingers into her cunt, I had the eerie feeling of deja vu, like this was something I’d done so many times that it had become rote.
“May I come, Sir?”
The question snapped my attention from the strange path my thoughts had been taking.
“Please, Sir.”
I could hear the strain in her voice as she tried to stop herself from squirming, and I twisted my fingers, searching for that sweet spot inside her.
“You may come when you’re ready,” I said as I brushed my knuckles against her g-spot.
Her pussy tightened around my fingers as she shuddered. She was strangely quiet as she came, but there was no mistaking the pleasure in her voice as she breathed, “Thank you, Sir.”
I grasped her forearms, using them for leverage as I slid inside her. She felt good wrapped around me, rocking back to meet each thrust. I set a steady pace that was neither too fast nor too slow. I didn’t want to drag out the experience, but I also wanted to make her climax again. I was a firm believer in the power of positive reinforcement, and nothing said you did well like an orgasm. And she’d earned at least two of them.
After several minutes, I increased my speed, shifting her body until I rubbed against her g-spot with every stroke. It wasn’t long before she came again, this time letting out a groan as her muscles squeezed me. I swore, eyes closing as I followed.
And for those several brief seconds, I forgot about my pushy agent sending me an assistant. Forgot about my lack of inspiration. Forgot about how this was just another physical release with absolutely nothing else behind it.
5
Sine
Three days.
That’s how long it had taken to organize the office, and then all day yesterday to get Alix’s bills and payment schedules synced with his appointments so that everything was all in one place. We’d had a bit of a row on Wednesday when I’d asked about handling his bills. He’d insisted he was an adult and fully capable of paying his bills himself. It probably would have escalated to the point where I would’ve said something I shouldn’t have, but in the middle of it all, as if God was sending a message, the lights went out.
He hadn’t apologized when I politely informed him that the electric company hadn’t received his payment...or when I confirmed that he’d paid his bill for his city apartment twice. He had, however, told me to call him Alix instead of Mr. Wexler, so I’d counted it a win.
With a bowl of cereal in my hand, I scowled as I looked at myself in my bathroom mirror. I’d made the mistake yesterday of taking advantage of the June sunshine after work and had gone for a r
un in Central Park. The run hadn’t been the mistake, but not buying stronger sunscreen was. I didn’t burn as badly as I could have, but my nose and cheeks were redder than I liked. With fair skin like mine, burns and more freckles were the only response to the sun, but this looked more like I was blushing, and I didn’t want Alix to think I was embarrassed by the subject of his photographs.
I’d been very careful not to show any reaction to the photographs he was taking or to the way his model pranced around half-naked. I wasn’t paid to be an art critic or his conscience. My job was to make sure the lights stayed on, and he didn’t double-book.
I put the bowl down and smoothed foundation over the sensitive skin, taking care to blend the edges. I rarely wore makeup, but I felt like representing a photographer meant being a bit more aware of how I looked. Alix hadn’t said a word to me about my attire, but I’d seen the looks Giselle had sent my way every afternoon when she saw me. I didn’t care what she thought about me as a person, but as a representative of Alix, I needed to make sure I always looked professional. Going to work with a bit of a sunburn made me look more like a child who’d been playing outside than an adult, so using makeup to keep the red to a minimum was necessary.
I needed to go shopping, I thought as I smoothed down my sundress. Back home, I’d always dressed comfortably, which for me had usually meant jeans with a variety of t-shirts and sweatshirts, often hand-me-downs from one brother or another. In college, I’d scoured thrift stores for slacks and blouses, and those had serviced me well in my previous jobs. Now, however, it was far too warm for pants and I certainly wouldn’t wear shorts, but I’d never fancied capris, which meant I’d be wearing dresses or skirts. I’d give Alix no cause to be ashamed of my appearance.
I tugged at the dress, wishing it was a bit longer. If I remembered to bend at my knees instead of the waist, I should keep from embarrassing myself. Alix and I had developed a tentative truce at the moment, and I didn’t want anything to spoil that, especially me accidentally flashing him a peek of my white cotton panties.