“Yes,” I whispered, taking another sip of tea. It had cooled considerably. Jude’s eyes dropped from my mouth to the tea cup, then lifting a hand, he gestured for the waitress to bring more hot water. Without me saying a word. If that were Jack sitting here? The hot tea could have been delivered over ice cubes and he wouldn’t have noticed.Or maybe he noticed and just never cared. I clutched the contract tighter, sadness sitting heavily in my chest. Instead of dwelling on it, carving the sadness out like a cavity, I ignored it and kept reading. Because everyone knows if you ignore a cavity, it just goes away, right? Right.
6)Ifsweet girlchooses to masturbate, she must call Jude, wearing her collar of bells so that he may listen to her as she orgasms.
My blood roared in my ears and the tips of my breasts tingled. Holy hell, that sounded hot. And twisted. A collar with bells on it? Like some sort of fucked up elf from Santa’s workshop? I cleared my throat, uncrossing and crossing my legs again and squeezing them to ease the throbbing ache of my clit. “So… this um, bell collar thing… does your sub say anything when she calls you?”
His lopsided smile was wicked and sexy and I wanted to run my tongue along the crooked curve of his lips. “No,” he answered. “That’s part of the fun. The collar of bells is kept in her nightstand. She calls, puts the phone down, says nothing… and that’s how I know what’s happening, when I hear the bells. Sometimes I talk to her while she’s masturbating. Other times, I just listen.”
Holy. Shit. I licked my lips and set the paper down, clenching my hands beneath the table. “I can tell you now, I won’t be doing that. Hard limit.”
“I understand. Keep in mind, you can try these things with Omar. This week is about you learning the lifestyle, experiencing parts of it… but it doesn’t have to be with me.”
A laugh snuck up on me and came out like a honk. “With Omar? God, no.” The words were out before I could stop them and I pressed my lips together so hard, that my teeth bit into my soft flesh. “I just mean… uh, I can’t see us doing something like that—”
Jude shrugged, but the intensity of his eyes betrayed the casualness of the gesture. “You don’t have to explain anything to me, Marly.”
I set the contract aside. “Why don’t I finish reading that later? Like you said, it can take a while, right?”
He nodded. “Okay, then. As I was saying before, you will be in my ‘possession,’” he threw finger quotes around the word, punctuating it with his damn dimples, “tonight through Wednesday afternoon, at which point you’ll go home and spend the rest of the evening relaxing before your Thursday audition.” He clicked a pen with his thumb, setting it precisely parallel to the paper. “This is the last contract and it’s from the BDSM club we’ll be at for the week. It’s the most important. The club protects both of us; it makes it so you can truly see the lifestyle without participating. You can watch what BDSM sex looks like, without us ever having to touch. Are you okay with that? Is there anything you don’t want to see inside those walls? Let me know and I’ll keep you from those areas.”
I might be watching people have sex alongside of Jude? I closed my eyes, imagining what sorts of scenes we might see inside of the club. Would I be able to keep my wits about me? Yes, for the love of God, why would I risk everything for something as fleeting as a night with Jude? If I were to give in to these feelings, then all the rumors… everything Jack had ever said about me would be right. I felt things with Jude I’ve never felt in my whole damn life with anyone else… but maybe that’s what method acting was all about. Maybe I was only feeling these things because I was already tapping into Holly in a way I never needed for other roles. And now… we’ll be watching others have sex. Together.
The bottom line was… I wanted to see what this sort of intimacy looked like. How could I expect to play the part of Holly if I’d never seen the effect it had on women? Porn wasn’t the same. Those women were essentially actresses, too. I needed to see a real orgasm. The real pleasure. The real pain. Not the over-dramatic screams of a young woman getting paid to act like she was having fun. “I want to see everything. But if I’m uncomfortable, all I have to do is say my safe word and you’ll get me out of there?”
“Exactly. Your safe words will be your safety net,” Jude said. “If you are uncomfortable with anything at any time, you simply need to state one of the safe words created tonight and the act will immediately stop.”
“Safe words,” I said, repeating him. “You keep mentioning them in the plural… I thought you only had one?”
“Most submissives have at least three—one that means slow down, one that means stop, and one, um, non-verbal signal. For example, yellow to slow down—meaning you need a breather or a quick break, but you don’t necessarily want to stop. Red would be to stop. You need everything to cease immediately. And the non-verbal… usually, it’s snapping. Something easy to do if your hands are tied and you’re gagged.”
Holy. Shit. What was I getting into? How far was Jude going to push me? Was he intending to make me use these words?
I gulped hard, a shiver tumbling down my spine.
“So,” Jude said, “while I grab our check and use the restroom, you read the LnS contract.” He stood, walking across the diner to the cashier.
I scanned the page and wet my lips at the legalese. The language in this one was completely different than the other two. Much more formal… threatening almost. The standard non-disclosure agreement was different. I’d seen a million of those in my career. Every time a new script passed my desk, I had to sign one. But this? It was different. And Jude should know it was different. He could have sent this paperwork ahead of time. Could have messengered it to my house or faxed it. What was he hiding?
I sipped my tea once more, the cup clattering as I set it back down. My hands trembled and I lifted the pen, resting my other hand against my planner. Steadying me. I took a deep breath, skimming over the first two pages, only understanding every other word. I sighed, frustration rising from my stomach, lodging in my throat.
I could feel myself retreating. Backing away from the opportunity of a lifetime; the opportunity to learn the lifestyle, learn insight about Holly I couldn’t get from a freaking Google search.Backing away from being taken seriously.
“Oh my God, are you Marlena Taylor?” A middle-aged woman at the table next to me leaned over, squinting as she tugged her glasses from atop her head down to the bridge of her nose.
“Uh—no,” I tried to say, my voice cracking as I tugged at the wig.
“It is you!” she cried, clapping her hands together. “Oh, my daughter and I loved you in Bridesmaid Retreat.”
“Um, thanks.”
The woman crinkled her nose, smiling in a way that I’ve been smiled at my whole life. Like I was meant to look cute and smile pretty. Vapid. A pretty face, nothing more. “Is this new look for a role?” she asked, whispering.
“Something like that.” I strung my fingers through the plastic strands of the wig. Even with the wig, I was still recognizable. As a rom-com girl. Nothing more. I was interchangeable. Clutching the pen tighter, I scribbled my name at the bottom of the last page. “I, uh, have to go. Have a good night.” I collected my things off the table and tucked them into my purse before grabbing my rolling bag and rushing for the door. Jude could find me outside… I needed to get the hell out of there before anyone saw us together. Recognized me out with another man.
It didn’t take him long to find me. He came barreling through the doors, heaving a sigh when he found me outside, leaning against a parking sign. “I thought maybe you left,” he said, his breath heavy. His words quiet, but urgent.
“No,” I said. “A woman recognized me and I didn’t want her seeing us together.”
He nodded, but offered nothing more. I grabbed the contract from within my purse and handed it to him. “Here you go.”
