“Yes, darling, I know you are a big girl, but I like to brush hair. Make old Uncle Erik happy and mind him, okay?”
“You are old. Did they have cars when you were a kid?”
“Yes, and telephones and electricity. Get over here, brat.” His voice softened playfully. Camille suppressed a giggle and handed him the brush, plopping on the floor and crossing her legs in a most unladylike manner. She closed her eyes as she felt him gently run the brush through her tangles, easing the knots out with his fingers. Even she was not as patient with her own locks as he was! Once the bristles were free to travel down the length of her hair, Erik began to brush firmly, lifting the heavy mane from her shoulders as he hummed an unrecognizable tune. Camille felt herself relaxing under his care and leaned against his leg as she wrapped her arm around it. Strange as it sounded, she felt completely safe and secure anchored between his strong legs.
“How pretty is that?” Erik asked after tying her hair into two high, loose ponytails. “So shiny and soft. Did you like having your hair brushed?”
“I did. A lot,” Camille admitted.
“Then that will be a reward for good behavior for you. Now pick up all the clothes you left on the floor and put them in that hamper. We keep things tidy around here.”
“I don’t like to clean,” Camille said, pouting as she tossed her jeans and shirt into the wicker basket, and then tucked her boots in the closet.
“You don’t have to like it; you just have to do it. Do you want to stay in your room and play for a while, or explore?”
“Explore!” Camille said excitedly. “Are you going to come with me?”
“Of course. I don’t want you getting lost. Hold my hand.”
Camille was, once again, overwhelmed with the size and directions of the compound. Erik told her there were sixteen bedrooms on the north side, and that the only room she was not allowed to enter was Arthur’s. He informed her that the reason being was that she would be lost in Arthur’s mess and she would never be found again. He then showed her his room, which was the largest and with custom furnishings, including a huge, circular bed built onto a high platform. Surprising even herself, she ran to the platform, climbed onto the bed, and spontaneously started to jump on it.
“What do you think you are doing, little one? That is a bed, not a trampoline,” Erik asked, catching her before she fell.
Camille snickered. “I am getting into character. Isn’t that was little girls do? Jump on beds?”
“Some do, yes. Have you ever bounced on a mattress before?”
“Nope. I always wanted to, though. Mother said it was undignified.”
“Well, Mother is not here. Go on. Jump to your heart’s content. Just be careful.”
Camille squealed, launching herself back on the high mattress and jumping as hard as she could. Erik, arms crossed and eyes peeled, simply smiled as she allowed her adult self to disappear. When she started panting, he ordered her to stop.
“But I don’t want to!” Camille argued, jumping higher.
“You have had enough, baby. Come down now.”
“Noooo… ow!” she yelped as her ankle twisted under her and she fell.
“This is why I told you to stop. Does it hurt?” Erik asked, sitting next to her.
Tearfully, Camille nodded. “Yeah. Real bad.”
“Next time, you will listen, won’t you?”
“Yes, sir, Uncle Erik. I’m sorry. Ow!”
With a sigh, Erik lifted her easily into his arms and carried her to the bathroom. Setting her on top of the vanity, he pulled off her shoe and sock and looked carefully at her foot.
“Just a little twist. No swelling yet. Let’s get some ice for it and then have a long talk about what I expect from you when I tell you to do something.”
Camille bit her lip, forcing back shameful tears. “I’m sorry, Uncle Erik. I’ll listen better next time. I promise.”
“There won’t be a next time. No more jumping on beds.”
“But… you’re mean.”
“I think I heard you tell me that before. Up you go.”
Camille pouted as he placed her on the couch in the living room and covered her ankle with a bag of ice. He looked up at her and frowned.
“Why the face, baby?”
“I wanna jump on the bed again. It was really fun. Please? I’ll be more careful, I promise.”
“I already told you no. House rule,” he said, ignoring her groan. “Uncle Erik does not repeat himself. Please don’t test me. You are already very close to getting a spanking for not minding me as it is.”
“It’s not fair.”
“In this type of age-play relationship, there are going to be many things that you think are unfair. But they will always be in your best interests. Now, sit here quietly while I get you something to occupy yourself with.”
“My tablet is in my purse…”
“Sorry, but my little girls only play video games with me. You can read, color, or watch cartoons. What do you want?”
“To play Candy Crush. I’m on level 161 and…”
“Camille Loren, I said no. Must I repeat myself?”
“No.”
“No, what?”
“No, Uncle Erik,” Camille forced out with a scowl. The man seriously needed to learn how to relax a bit.
“I will also bring you some milk and cookies. Would you like that?”
“Coffee, please.”
“No.”
“Oh, come on! Coffee isn’t going to hurt me!”
“Young lady, do you remember what I said about arguing with me?”
Camille swallowed, seeing the seriousness in his face. “Yes. I’m sorry. This is going to take some getting used to.”
“I know, but don’t think I am going to be so lenient with you because it’s new to you. Any more lip will result in a time out. Got it?”
“Yes, sir,” Camille answered quietly. She wrinkled her nose at the tray that contained a large glass of milk and two macadamia nut, chocolate-chip cookies. A firm look from Erik made her pick up one and nibble it delicately.
“What if I’m lactose intolerant?” she suddenly asked, distastefully eyeing the milk.
“Are you saying you are?”
“I might be.”
“Lying is a definite spanking offense. Are you?”
“No.”
“Then drink your milk. You can watch any of these channels.” He handed her the remote and pointed to the yellow button. “They are programmed for your age group. I am going to get changed into sweats and will be right back.”
Camille watched Erik leave the room and sighed, her heart pounding wildly in her chest. His presence was awakening something inside of her, something forbidden. Her mother used to warn her about men, telling her that they were only out for two things… a woman’s body and her money. She was warned never to trust any of them, no matter how nice and sincere they pretended to be. Men are the world’s greatest performers, her mother said, and they are all after the same trophy. You don’t need to worry though; this will never be an issue for you.
Camille bit her lips, contemplating her mother’s words. She did not want to believe that Erik was like that. He seemed to genuinely care for her well-being. He had shown it since the moment she had fallen into the koi pond that night. Plus, he had much more money than she ever would. But then, he was an actor. One of the best in the business. He also had the sordid reputation of being a ladies’ man. And this, she looked around the room, was nothing more than a movie set to him.
Camille reached to rub her aching ankle, feeling the tears threaten to spill again. How could I be so foolish to believe he would like me as more than his costar? She stared blankly out the large window at the breathtaking view below. The lake stretched for miles, its frozen beauty both compelling and frightening. In the background were mountains larger than she had ever seen in California, reflecting a blue haze off the snow.
“Sweetheart? Why are you crying? Does you ankle hurt?” E
rik’s gentle voice startled her. Camille just nodded, her voice caught in her throat. He settled next to her and pulled her foot onto his lap, his warm hands gently rubbing the injured limb. “Talk to me. I need to know what is on your mind.”
“I’m confused… and scared… and I feel like a total idiot,” Camille choked out, avoiding his face.
“What are you afraid of? I’m not going to hurt you.”
“No, not that. I’m afraid of my character and how she might end up feeling for her teacher. Erik, you are giving me something that I have always wanted and I don’t know how to deal with it. It really scares me. I have never been in this situation and have no idea how to handle the emotional issues that have the potential of arising. You have played parts like this before, haven’t you? How do you handle it?”
“Truthfully, this is the first time I am working under the gun, too. With a script, we know how to respond to the other players. It is predetermined and there are no surprises. It makes it much easier to maintain a professional distance. With what we are doing, though, the idea is to not be burdened by professionalism and to allow human nature to dictate our character involvement,” Erik said, gently stroking her calf. “I will admit that I am also concerned about my own feelings. I don’t want to expose my heart any more than you do, but we have to in order to be genuine. That is what Arthur envisions this piece to show and he wants nothing less than raw truth. But, both personally and professionally, I do accept the risk of being exposed and vulnerable as needed to see this through. Worst-case scenario is that you and I become close friends.”
“Or we grow to hate each other,” she sighed. “I am sorry to be so blunt in my naivety. Erik?”
“What, baby?”
“Do you ever consider that there is a chance that… never mind.” She stopped her question, looking away from him in embarrassment. She felt his hand cup her chin, forcing her to look into his warm, blue eyes.
“That I could be interested in you other than as a costar? Yes, which is why I am also afraid. You are everything I could ever want in a woman and more.”
“I really am having a difficult time believing that you are telling me the truth. Seriously, you are the one and only Erik Renault. How do I know you aren’t putting on a show for me? Telling me what you think I want to hear.”
“You don’t. Only time will prove my sincerity. Like I told Stan, for all I know, you will never want to lay eyes on me after we are done here. But that is the chance I am willing to take. But until you accept the wonderful things about yourself, and know what you add to a relationship, I have to try to guard my own heart.”
“You have your pick of any beautiful, successful woman you could want. Why me?” Camille felt another heavy tear drip down her face.
“Because you are unspoiled by your beauty. You are real, natural, and responsive to the tiniest touch. I can guide you in a way that others will not allow. This,” he gestured to her clothing, “is something I desire in my life. I can train you from the beginning in what I enjoy, at the same time teaching you how to grow in yourself.”
“I’m not that compliant,” Camille wrinkled her nose. “I have somewhat of a stubborn streak in me.”
“I know,” Erik smiled, “which makes it so much more enjoyable. If you haven’t guessed, I like to spank.”
“You are weird.”
“Yep, and that is not ever going to change. You accepted this role knowing this. Why? Do you deny that something inside of you is intrigued by the thought of being bare-bottomed over my knee?”
“You are embarrassing me.”
“Get over it. Answer me and be honest. And get used to looking at me when we talk about uncomfortable issues. Watch my eyes. You won’t ever see any judgment or mockery in them.”
“That is easy for you to say. I want to just climb under a rock.”
“Then I will pull you out by your ponytail. Answer me. Are you intrigued with the thought of me paddling your bare bottom? Of being forced to lie across my knees and be exposed to my view?”
Camille’s face burned with embarrassment as she forced herself to meet his eyes. He was right. They were filled with warmth, patience, and understanding. She took a deep breath. “Okay, yes. It started with that scene we did when I was twelve… it never left my mind. It made me feel warm inside, like someone actually cared. Especially when you held me after and told me to call if I ever needed you. I mean, if Pippi ever needed you. That part was not in the script.”
“I know,” Erik laughed. “If I recall, the script read that you jumped off my lap and kicked me in the shin. I was even wearing shin guards to protect myself. You didn’t, though. Why?”
“I told the writer that it was inconsistent with the character of Pippi. She was supposed to be the strongest girl in the world, and she would have broken your leg,” Camille shrugged.
“The truth, Miss Cami. I can tell when you are fibbing.”
“Geesh! It was because I wanted to be held like that. I wanted… I needed to believe that someone loved me, even though it was make-believe.”
“It was make-believe then, but not now. Would you like me to hold you like a little girl again?”
Camille hesitated before nodding. Erik easily pulled her onto his lap, cradling her lovingly in his arms as he eased her against his broad chest. He rested his lips on top of her head and gently began to rock, singing quietly into her hair. Camille found herself curling deeper into his embrace and he leaned back against the comfortable couch and began to stroke the side of her face. The last thing Camille remembered before she drifted to sleep was the warm beam of mid-morning sunlight that gently warmed her cheek.
Chapter Seven
Erik opened his eyes, his nostrils filled with the fresh scent of Camille’s hair. Strawberry. He carefully shifted her in his arms and gazed down upon her sleeping face. Her pink lips were slightly parted and her cheeks still had the sweet remnants of baby fat, making her look so much younger than her tender year of nineteen. He kissed her forehead and closed his eyes, thinking of how he had been living his life before he met her.
He had always been interested in older women. Their maturity, lack of inhibitions, knowledge of what they wanted in their lives held a great attraction for him. Several had young children, and he found himself enjoying playtime as much as the little ones. He loved their laughter, their freedom, their innocence, and longed for a time when he could have experienced the same. Like Camille, he had been a child star and had been forced to mature before his time because of the responsibility that came with his job. Sadly, he could count the times he remembered laughing on one hand. Arthur had been good to him, but treated him as an adult in most circumstances. No, the freedom of childhood had never been an option for the solemn boy.
He was submitted into foster care at three years old by his single mother. He had been a precocious child, always into something mischievous, and a true challenge for the homes he had been sent to. Lack of a stable, solid foundation led to him having a tremendous amount of anger and he would often get into fights with his foster siblings, or disappear for long periods of time as he explored new neighborhoods with the hopes of finding a place he could call his own. He was also considered ‘pretty,’ which increased the degree of teasing he encountered as he grew older. Even though he was tall for his age, his lanky build made him the favorite target for bullies. He learned to fight to defend himself, unfortunately using whatever he could grab as a weapon. The last time, before he was shipped to the final family, he had grabbed a wooden plank and beat his aggressor senseless.
His only salvation was that his assailant had a juvenile record of assault and battery, and the courts allowed one last opportunity to be placed under the condition that he was to be kept under strict supervision. There were four other siblings in the little house, all much younger than he, which kept the foster parents too busy to notice his disappearances. Then he met Arthur, a grouchy old director who seemed to believe that the boy had something that no one else had
seen. Arthur had given him a second chance at life and had made him successful as both a man and an actor. And now, thanks to his old mentor, he had a chance for real happiness with the woman of his dreams. And he would never had known that it was her, except for this movie.
Camille had been right when she said he could have had any woman he wanted. The problem was he’d never known what he wanted until he met her. She was unbothered by his stardom. In fact, she was completely disinterested in him as a celebrity. Her low self-esteem made her shy and nonintrusive, and her lack of vanity was something which he found beguiling and mysterious. She was smart, funny, and painfully honest with herself, another trait which he found lacking among the typical female he had been involved with. He loved that she knew her weaknesses and fears, and that she would accept them as part of her character. She was not afraid to learn and grow, and her humility touched his heart deeply.
“Uncle Erik?” Camille said sleepily. “I’m hungry.”
Her addressing him in character surprised him. He smiled down at her tiny frame and hugged her gently. “I’ll get us some lunch. Is there anything you won’t eat?”
“Most people ask what I like,” she grumbled, sitting up straight and stretching. “Your back must be killing you after holding me so long.”
“Not at all and it was only an hour. I happened to have been very comfortable, I will have you know. Now, what won’t you eat?”
“Lima beans, Brussels sprouts, and liver. Yuck to all of those,” she shuddered. “Oh, and creamed corn. I hate creamed corn.”
“Shame, because I love it. I even make it myself. Hey, don’t look so surprised. I can cook.”
“Where did you learn?”
“Arthur taught me. Two single guys needed to eat, and takeout got old real fast. He wasn’t always rolling in dough like he is today. How about gourmet hot dogs?”
“Hot dogs? I thought you were a health nut,” Camille smiled as he stood.
“It is my little secret. I love junk food, but the tabloids don’t know it. Gotta give the public what they want, you know. Well? Are you up for it?”
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