“Hmmm.” He tapped his chin with his index finger, eyes on her, and she wriggled in her chair at the scrutiny. “Tell me why I shouldn’t pull you and put in Chelsea or someone else.”
“No!” Startled, she struggled to sit up and forward in her chair, leaning into the desk. “I can do this, Axel. I don’t want to leave the play.”
“You certainly haven’t shown any strong inclination to stay,” he observed, shrugging.
“I’ll try harder! I’ll research. I’ll read about the stuff the character… does.” She wrinkled her nose. “I’ll get into her head.”
“Why should I believe that you can start getting into the character’s head now, when you can’t even say the word spanking to me? Tell me the truth. Are you unable, or just unwilling?”
Panic engulfed her. “I guess, maybe, unwilling. It scared me. But I’ll change that! Look, I’ll say it to you. Okay? Sp. Span… king.” She felt her face burn hot and rubbed her cheek. “See?”
He laughed. “You look like you think you’re going straight to hell.”
“And you’re the devil who’s torturing me,” she shot back.
He raised one eyebrow. “You think this is bad?” A small smile played on his lips. “You really haven’t done your research, have you.” He waited a beat and then sighed. “Look, I think that there’s something really bothering you here, underneath the bravado. Tell me what’s going on in your head, or I can’t help you.”
“I just feel like it’s—like I shouldn’t be doing this role, I guess. Like it’s an implicit sign of approval for domestic abuse. And at first I figured, oh, it’s fine, it’s just a play. I was so excited to work with you—great for my career. Honestly, this is an amazing opportunity and I’m very grateful. But doing the scenes now, I feel—I just don’t understand why the character does some of the things she does. Okay? That doesn’t mean I want to quit! I just need some help to figure this out.” She bit her lip, hoping he wouldn’t point immediately to the door and tell her to get the hell out.
He nodded, face serious. “Okay. So here’s my take on it. I don’t feel the play is anti-feminist at all. In fact, I might argue it’s feminist at the core, because it shows a woman making a choice about what she wants in life, although yes, the choice itself is different from the norm. But she chooses it because she likes it, and that’s the point. Yes?”
Cleo tipped up one shoulder. “I mean, yeah, the play makes it clear that she likes her lifestyle and that she thrives in society and work and family and whatever. I just don’t feel it. Viscerally. I think that’s why I haven’t been able to really channel the role. I want to! I just—I need help.”
He put his long fingers together. “There are people in the world who are strong, powerful, and rule any situation they enter into. And yet they crave something different in the privacy of their home, a relationship where they can escape into a fantasy world to provide relief from the need to be perpetually strong. In this other world, someone else makes the rules and holds them accountable. These people don’t do it because they’re weak. They do it because they want to relax into someone’s care, and they’ve found someone strong and honest, someone they can trust to take on that leadership role. They like being given rules and sexual punishments because it’s incredibly erotic to them, it’s fun, and it’s a respite from the stresses of the daily grind. They choose this, and they can choose to stop, too, at any point.”
She nodded. “Fine. Okay. I understand that.” But she looked away from his gaze.
“Do you?” he said, a challenge. “When I say it’s erotic, I don’t think you see how that can be. And that’s the main element that’s missing from your interpretation of the part, I think. The ability to show the audience the eroticism at the core of dominance, submission, and domestic discipline.”
“Well, I want to get it! I still can, if you give me a chance. Just—help me understand the dynamic, how someone can enjoy that kind of game. How it can be fun. Just a little more information about it, please.”
He was silent for a long moment, and she panicked, thinking she’d shown too much ignorance. But when he looked back up at her, there was a sparkle in his eye, a predatory look that made her at once nervous and excited, a mixture of emotions she didn’t understand.
“Another chance,” he mused. “You have tantrums daily, you insult me in front of the entire crew, and you want another chance?”
“I’ll do anything.” An image of Chelsea popped into her head, the woman on her knees. Then the image changed, and it was Cleo on her knees, and the faceless man was Axel, tossing his head back in passion, fisting her hair with urgent demand, pulling her mouth closer to his body. She sucked in a breath and looked at the floor. She didn’t mean that!—God, she hoped he didn’t misunderstand. She wasn’t a whore.
“Anything? That’s a bold offer.” His voice was a murmur and a challenge, and she didn’t answer, but risked a glance up at his face. He was looking right at her, his eyes burning. “You can continue in the role on one, and only one condition.”
“One—one condition?” She stumbled over the words, heart racing. Was he going to suggest—sex? An affair? Part of her wanted him to say it, more than anything; another part of her was horrified that he might. She’d think less of him if he did.
Or… a slightly different thought rushed into her mind. What if he wanted to actually… spank her? So she could see what it was all about? For some reason, that thought—which she would have assumed would be intolerable—stayed in her mind for more than a few seconds, as she tried it out, mentally positioning herself over his lap, watching him stroke her skin, seeing herself push up into his touch. God, his touch; how she longed to feel his fingers on her skin.
“Yes. Do you want to hear it?”
“Yes.” She licked her lips, and saw something flicker in his eyes.
“I’m going to tutor you, off hours. I’m going to teach you what you need to know to understand this role from the inside out, and convince the audience that you not only know what domestic discipline means, but that you also want it in your life.”
“You’re going to tutor me?” She felt dumb, repeating his words, but she was still processing.
“That’s right. Every day after rehearsal, you’re going to stay behind and practice your scenes. I’m going to offer you… correction… when you don’t get it right. Do you understand?” His voice was silky and smooth, but dangerous, and the words seemed both a threat and a promise. He tapped one hand on the desk, a light slap, but the look he gave her was anything but soft.
“Uh, no. I don’t. What exactly do you mean, correction? You’re not going to…” Her voice squeaked and her pulse hammered against her wrist. A slow burn started deep in her abdomen, and she felt a tingle surge through her. Holy fuck, he did want to spank her! Although the thought had been titillating a few seconds ago, the actual threat of it made her prickle in defense. But to her surprise, the arousal she felt filled her body with anxious, eager adrenaline and she nearly wanted to tear her clothes off and leap at him, right across the desk, into those hard, muscled arms.
“We’ll discuss terms.” He raised an eyebrow. “I’m going to go out there and tell the crew to take off for the evening. We’ve already stayed an extra hour because you were unable to focus. Please wait for me here.”
Chapter Two
He strode from the room, and it seemed only a few seconds before he was back. She thought she saw a satisfied expression flit across his face when he returned, but her bravado made her say, “So what are you planning now, Mr. Oh High And Mighty Director?” She was more aroused than before; the few minutes of absence had only made him loom larger in her mind, and increasingly sexy and provocative scenarios played out across her field of vision.
He gave her a steady gaze from his dark eyes. “Why don’t you give a guess, Cleo.”
“I—I can’t guess.” She felt her face turn hot. “I don’t know.”
“You thought I was going to spank you,” h
e murmured. “Is that still what you’re thinking?” His tone was teasing, but still powerful.
“I wasn’t thinking that.” Her voice came out aggressive and her face burned.
“No?” His mouth twitched. “Are you sure? Because I think you were.” He raised an eyebrow.
Butterflies whirred. “I—But you can’t. Right? I mean, that’s crazy. I never said you could. You wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize your job. That’s not even legal! Right? That would be insane.” But a surge of arousal in her body let her know it wasn’t so insane. Part of her wanted nothing more than to feel his body against hers, his hand on her ass. Stroking, touching… slapping. Not too hard, but just enough to make her sting, before he—
His voice got even lower. “Of course not without your permission. But maybe you’d ask for it. Is that what you want, Cleo? Maybe part of your confusion about this role is the fact that it actually turns you on, even if you hate to admit that?”
“Axel. I don’t—how can you say that?” A mix of panic and anticipation flooded her veins. Was it what she wanted? Sure, she’d fantasized more than once, since this play had started. It was only natural to be curious about how it felt, right? I mean, she was acting out the role of a kinky woman who liked getting her butt whacked. It was only human nature to wonder about how it might feel for herself, during sex with a hot guy, especially since kink was, in many ways, becoming way more mainstream.
She allowed these thoughts in her bed, late at night; so tired that her thwarted desires could come out to play without fear of reprisal. But in real life? Now that was an entirely different thing.
Her eyes widened. Her entire body was primed for him, and she was terrified he could see, feel, smell her arousal. How could he not? How could someone—even the best actor in the world—hide their visceral, physical reactions from a trained observer?
He didn’t reply, but carefully unbuttoned the cuff of his right sleeve, and rolled up the white dress shirt. Just as deliberately, he repeated the motion on the other side. “And if you did ask? Maybe, Cleo, I’d start by doing… this. To get ready. While you think about what I’m planning.” He kept her gaze while his fingers worked.
“You… would?” Mesmerized, she licked her lips. Those corded forearms—God. He was so sexy.
He smirked at her, and when he was finished with his sleeves, he crossed his arms over his chest, making the muscles bulge. “I’d let you wait and wonder, and I’d know you were getting turned on, because I’d see your chest rise faster, and hear your breathing hitch,” he murmured, eyes moving over her body, then locking with hers. “And the moment of anticipation would excite us both—me, knowing I was going to take you over my lap. And you, knowing you’d be there in a few short minutes, waiting for my hands on your body.”
Unable to talk, she swallowed hard. She could feel her breathing quicken, her pulse beat through her body like a drum.
“Then I’d stand up,” he continued, pushing back from the table and getting to his feet. “And I’d smile at you, Cleo. And then I’d tell you to move over to the couch. Because it would be time. And you’d do it, because even though you’d know that a spanking stings, it’s followed by something so fucking amazing that you’d walk over hot coals to get there. What do you think about that?” He raised one eyebrow.
She blinked under his intense gaze. “Axel?” As if watching from afar, like a member of the audience, she heard her tone, high and breathy. The quiver. The defensiveness mixed with arousal. And what surprised her was the knowledge that it was this: This was what she needed for the part. Next time she was doing the big scene, she needed to inject this exact mix of conflicting emotions into her voice, her face.
He laughed. “Do you hear it?” His laugh faded, and he sat back down in his chair and leaned in, over the desk, eyes blazing. “Did you hear your fucking voice?” He raised an eyebrow. “That’s what I need from you in the role. Of course I’m not going to spank you, Cleo.” He leaned back in his chair and shook his head. “But I want to teach you why some people like it. I’ll tell you about it.” He smirked. “Like you suggested.”
“Okay.” Her words came immediately and she couldn’t meet his eyes. She wasn’t sure which emotion was more powerful: Relief, or regret. Obviously, she was relieved that he wasn’t offering something illicit or unconventional. That would be so inappropriate! And power hungry. Patriarchally shitty. And all sorts of—bad things. Right? She didn’t want that… of course. Even though being over his lap suddenly seemed very sexy. She shook her head. “Okay.”
“Did you hear it, Cleo?” He leaned in again, body taut with concentration. “Do you get it, the emotion I want you to portray in the scene?”
“Yes. I got it, just now. I get it.” She was embarrassed, but yet exuberant; this kind of breakthrough was like learning a new skill: flying without wings. A new language. “Anna needs to feel it, that crazy mix of adrenaline and anger and excitement. She wants it and she doesn’t want it, and neither of them know if she’ll really say yes until her very next word. I can do this!” She shot to her feet, paced, threw out her arms, excited by her insight. “Axel. I get it.”
He smiled briefly, but then his face turned earnest. “So you can see how it’s both real and a charade, then?”
She stopped. “A charade?”
“It’s a game, Cleo,” he said, looking back at her, his eyes dark, his expression unreadable. “It’s a game that you make real, both of you, together. You make the rules, you make the consequences. And if—at any point—it gets to be too much, you stop. If you don’t like it anymore, or at all, you stop. It’s that simple.”
She bit her lip, her previous concerns coming back in. “But they make it sound like—in the play, at least, they make it seem like Anna doesn’t have a choice and she has to do this, even when she doesn’t want to. Like she’s locked into it forever.”
He laughed again, but his laugh was wry, almost dark. “Nothing’s forever, Cleo, especially not this.” He looked off into the distance, then shook his head. “Relationships are always morphing, changing, adjusting. People like to use the word always to convince themselves, really, that what they have lasts.” He paused. “Maybe as if the words will make it so.”
For a split second, Cleo—seeing the grief etched into his face—wanted to ask if someone had hurt him; taken his forever and turned it to trash under her heel. But it wasn’t the time; it wasn’t her right.
She bit her lip. “So, okay, in general. I’m just clarifying. The women who get into this—who like to be punished. They actually like it. Right? They like it.”
“I’m saying they love it,” he corrected, with a small smile. “Because it turns them on. Even if they don’t have sex immediately afterwards, the act itself spurs sex later on to be more phenomenal for both partners. The dominance, the submission, the mindset, the whole mind game—it gets the couple to a level of excitement that they don’t otherwise find.”
“I don’t think I’d ever want to be spanked and not get sex right away,” mused Cleo, then put a hand to her mouth. “Oh, God. So inappropriate. Please forget I said that.”
He smiled. “Oh, I tend to agree with you. But once in a while, you’d be surprised at how amazing it can be to indulge in a little delayed gratification. Sometimes waiting makes the final event that much more… phenomenal.” He raised one eyebrow, and Cleo couldn’t help but look at his strong hand. She blushed. “And that’s what I want your character to know, to tell us, without those words. With her tone, with her expressions, with her body language, with her voice, she’s telling us this: This is fucking sexy. I like this. Letting him spank me now and not fuck me until later? This is the best, the biggest rush I can imagine, and I fucking love it.”
“So she’s scared of it, but she also loves it and craves it,” mused Cleo. “All at once. And she can say no, but she doesn’t even think of it. Not because she’s abused, but because she likes this.”
“Exactly.” He smiled. “And if you can tell us
that in your acting, you’ll win a Tony award someday.”
She laughed. “Yeah, someday. Maybe today I’ll just be grateful that I’m not getting, you know, fired.” She licked her lip. “Just to clarify: I’m not. Fired, that is. Right?”
Axel chuckled. “No. But you need to step it up and really get into this role.” He tapped the table with one finger. “I know this topic is a little out there for typical conversation,” he said. “But if we get it out into the open, Cleo, we can figure out how to help you tie into the character’s motivations. Frankly, you’ve been doing this role like you’re a wooden test dummy. I know that’s harsh, but you can do better. I hired you because you are excellent. Like you said, it’s not too late. I know you can do this.”
She swallowed hard, the truth bitter and coarse in her throat. “Well, okay, so I’ll do better.”
“You will.” He sounded sure. “And when you do, the entire cast will follow suit. You’re a leader, Cleo, not just because of your personality, but because of the role. The entire cast feeds off of your energy, as the main female lead. When you’re on, when you’re hitting it, they all swell with their own talent. It’s like a positive feedback loop. You do well, they do well, you feed off of them, they feed off of you, and everyone fucking rocks it. And that’s what we all need, in order to get the rave reviews to feed our careers. So you need to be on top of your game all the time.”
“But no pressure.” She gave him a wry grin.
He raised an eyebrow. “It comes with the territory, Cleo. Lead roles in plays aren’t the lead for nothing.”
She sighed. “I know. I do want to inspire the team so we can all do our best.”
“So we need to establish some ground rules,” he said. “No more insults from you. No more diva brat. When you’re unsure of something, just fucking say it. You need help? You ask me. Nobody will think less of you, and we’ll get past it faster. Yes?”
His gaze was firm.
She nodded. “But you, okay, can you also meet me halfway? Insulting me in front of everyone doesn’t necessarily build up my confidence. Just saying.”
His Firm Direction Page 3