Make Me: Twelve Tales of Dark Desire

by Aleatha Romig

  We small talked awhile, mostly him asking questions. Where are you from? How did you end up in L.A.? Previous jobs? I edited of course, feeling slightly guilty about it. Would he hire me if he knew I’d worked at a private BDSM club for the last five years? And was it totally dishonest of me not to mention it? There was always a chance that something about my former job might come out and make him look bad. But I didn’t think so. BDSM people were nothing if not universally, protectively discreet.

  And Jeremy was so encouraging and funny. God, I desperately wanted to work for this man.

  The food arrived, but I was almost too freaked out to eat it. My hand shook as I reached for my wineglass. Of course he noticed.

  “Are you nervous? Don’t be. I’ve already decided I want you for the job.”

  “You have?”

  “If you want it, yes, it’s yours. I decided it a while ago. That first night I met you actually. When I came in late and you really just wanted to go home, but you were nice to me instead.”

  I smiled. “I try to be nice to everyone. It’s one of the worst things about me.”

  “No, not at all. I think it’s great, Nell. I really do. And I hope you really are available to travel, and you really do think this job would be a good fit, and that you’ll find my salary is fair.” He told me a number then that made me choke on my salad.

  “I know it sounds high.” He paused as I tried to compose myself. “But I have to admit, I haven’t been completely honest with you yet about the demands of the job.”

  “You must have a lot of stresses and inconveniences to deal with on location.”

  “I do. It’s extremely difficult to go to one of these shoots, constantly traveling, working, doing PR, all the little things. I really need someone with me who I can depend on. I mean, it’s a complicated job, but it’s really very simple. I just need someone to get me what I need when I need it, to keep me happy and focused and able to work.”

  “Sure,” I said, but the look on his face was weirding me out a little. He reached for the small portfolio he’d carried in.

  “I brought this paperwork along, just for you to look over. You don’t have to sign anything or agree to take the job right now. This just sort of lays things out for you, what your duties, tasks, expectations would be.” He opened it up and handed me a long, single-spaced document in dense legalese.

  “To start, this is your typical confidentiality agreement. These are, unfortunately, a necessary evil in my business.”

  Yes, I thought, my old business too. I had signed many a confidentiality agreement in my old line of work.

  “I understand,” I said soberly. “Of course you can count on absolute discretion on my part.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. So perhaps, before we go any further, you might just sign this document. Because the rest of these papers contain more personal details about the day-to-day demands of the job, and somewhat more personal details about me.” He looked at me expectantly.

  “Of course,” I said. “If you like.”

  I signed the paper after scanning it to be sure it read just like all the other ones I’d signed. By this time the food was getting cold, but I was too spellbound by his attention to eat another bite. We were going over papers. I was about to learn his personal details. Oh my God.

  “Now, Nell,” he said with what almost sounded like a sigh. “Let’s talk seriously about the job.”

  Chapter Three

  Requirements

  ‡

  Jeremy slid the papers across the table.

  “Why don’t you just read them? Let me know if you have any questions.”

  There were five or six full pages of job description. I smiled, resting my head on my hand. Okay, the high salary made sense now. I began to scan the first page, also written in something akin to legalese.

  “I guess you keep your lawyers busy with all these papers and contracts,” I said.

  “Yes, I do. But I think it’s important to have everything perfectly clear and written down in black and white. It’s easier for everyone involved.”

  “Yes, of course.”

  The document began with more verbiage about privacy, discretion, the outward appearance of normalcy. Outward appearance of normalcy. Okay, that was a little weird.

  Near the bottom, it got even weirder. The applicant will tender public displays of affection as needed…

  The applicant agrees to cooperate with photo opportunities and/or candid interviews regarding the love relationship of Jeremy Gray and the applicant with a positive, convincingly affectionate tone…

  I stopped reading, my pulse suddenly beating in my ears. “I don’t… I’m not… Okay. I’m a little confused.”

  “About what?”

  “So…this sounds like I’m supposed to pretend to be your girlfriend.”

  “Yes, that is part of the job. A big part of the job actually. The public part.”

  The public part. I wondered what the private part amounted to. I flipped over to page three, page four.

  The applicant agrees to provide sexual relations on demand, to include vaginal, oral, and anal sex. The applicant agrees to comply with regular blood testing and remain monogamous while in the employ of Jeremy Gray, excepting group sexual encounters at the discretion of Jeremy Gray, to include but not limited to m/m/f, f/f/m, f/f/m/m, m/m/m/f encounters.

  The applicant understands that she will act as submissive and/or sexual slave to give comfort and relaxation in private, and function as a loving and affectionate girlfriend in public, and under no circumstances will behave in any way that exhibits or suggests her submissive status in public.

  The applicant understands the protocols and expectations of the dominant and submissive relationship and agrees to comply with all requested protocols in private, to include obedience, sexual subservience, and constant availability.

  Sexual subservience and use may include but is not limited to sexual intercourse, the use of erotic toys and aids, the use of multiple partners and multiple penetration, the withholding and control of orgasms, sexual objectification, and diverse sexual practices, which the applicant may or may not find repugnant.

  The papers fluttered from my fingertips. There was more, much more, but I had seen enough. The knot in my throat made it impossible to speak, and I couldn’t look at him, so I simply stood and started to walk. Walk away, walk outside, walk home. I didn’t care. I didn’t care as long as I was walking away from him.

  But of course he followed. He took my elbow, and we waited for his car. He helped me in like nothing in the world was wrong, tipped the valet, started driving. I fumed beside him on the seat. How dare he? Just because he was some big-time movie star, that gave him the right to try to hire me as his personal slave? To spring his contract on me, to humiliate me?

  “Nell, listen…”

  “Please, just take me home.”

  “Talk to me.”

  I turned on him. “What do you want me to say? You said you wanted an assistant. Someone to help you, keep you organized—”

  “It does help! It does keep me organized!”

  “You lied to me! Do you have any idea how humiliating this is? You wanted to hire me to be your sex slave. You might have mentioned that sometime before now—”

  “And if I had, what would you have done? The same thing you’re doing now. Pretending to be outraged and running away—”

  “Pretending? No, I’m really outraged, Jeremy! This…this setup, those documents—it’s all sick, reprehensible—”

  “Reprehensible? A little perverse, yes. But this is what you do, isn’t it?”

  He looked over at me, but I refused to meet his eyes. I clamped my mouth shut and crossed my legs more tightly. So he was hot. So what? He didn’t turn me on. If that’s true, a voice inside me whispered, why are your panties so damp? I huffed again to myself and stared out the window.

  “Look, let’s cut the drama. Okay?” Jeremy said. “I know that you’re for sale, and that you’r
e available. I know you’re a professional.”

  “You know that how?”

  “Because I already have a personal assistant who does things for me. Like find other types of assistants.”

  “Let me guess.” I seethed. “His name is Kyle.”

  “Yes.”

  “You and your assistant are the reason I’m out of work!”

  “Yes, but I never intended you to be out of work very long. I wanted you to work for me.”

  “Why this song and dance? Why didn’t you just come to me at the club?”

  “Come to you at the club? I’m Jeremy Gray. I’m a little bit famous, in case you hadn’t noticed. I don’t think you or Mistress Amelia or any of the other clients there would have appreciated the paparazzi camped at the door.”

  “It was your two thousand dollars! You sent him there to—what? Try me out?”

  “I sent him to find someone for me. He knows what I like, what I’m into. Yes, he tried you out.”

  I thought of our daring, exquisite night of pleasure, now reduced to Kyle’s tawdry work assignment. “That’s just…repugnant.”

  “Repugnant. Another nice word. Kyle’s good at what he does. I asked him to find someone intelligent this time. I know you’re not stupid, Nell. I know your mind isn’t closed. I know you understand the lifestyle, and I know you’ve lived it. Put yourself in my shoes. How do you get what you need when you’re in the spotlight twenty-four-seven? When cameras and gossip rags and web sites are recording your every move?”

  I couldn’t wrap my mind around it. It was just so depraved. I knew rich, superstar actors lived hedonistic lifestyles, but this was just plain sick. “Your last girlfriend—she was this too? A personal assistant?”

  “Yes, she was. She signed those same papers you just read. We worked great together for a while.” He said it like it was perfectly reasonable. He was crazy. He pulled up to my apartment. I wanted to get out, to slam the door in his face and go upstairs and shower until I could feel clean again.

  But I didn’t. I sat still, still as he did, and for some reason I asked him, “What happened? Why did she quit?”

  He sat a moment in silence, biting his lip. “They all leave eventually. You will too.”

  I snorted. “No, I won’t. Because I’m not going with you in the first place. I’m sorry that you’re in this situation, I really am. But I’m not… I can’t—”

  “All right,” he said. “Before you make any final decisions, I want you to think about this. You’re out of work. Your real work. Waitressing can’t be paying the bills. You’re good at what you do. I’m good at it too. And I think you and I would get along. I know I went about this the wrong way, and I see that I’ve made you angry. It was never my intention to humiliate you or hurt you. Trap you, maybe. But only to make you consider things. So don’t run away so quickly. Take a few days to consider—”

  “The only thing I’m considering now is whether I’m going to take out a restraining order on you and your creepy bitch-boy Kyle. Good night.” I got out, slammed the door, and went into my apartment without looking back. I don’t know how long he stayed there, parked out in front. I was afraid to look. I was afraid to admit I cared.

  I was afraid, because under the blazing anger burned a small ember of desire.

  Chapter Four

  Scared

  ‡

  If I were a nice person, a gentleman, I would have left her alone. I would have let her out at her apartment and never thought of her again. Her reaction to my proposal left no room for misinterpretation. She wasn’t interested. Not in the least.

  So perhaps I’d miscalculated. I might have perceived signals that weren’t really there, although as an actor I was pretty good at reading people. But I wasn’t perfect, no more perfect than anyone else.

  No, if I were perfect, I would just let her go. I would just move on. I had a few days left, plenty of time to find an acceptable candidate. Unfortunately I was more selfish than perfect. I wanted her.

  I stared at the menu, even though I already knew what I wanted. Nell would arrive for work any minute now. I was sitting in her section, and I’d purposely come at a slow time. Of course, she’d be far from happy to find me here. Oh well. I’d deal with her displeasure when it came.

  I picked at the sugar packets on the table and rearranged the salt and pepper shakers. Guillermo brought me a drink and thanked me for the fiftieth time for my patronage. I asked if he wouldn’t mind sending Nell my way when she arrived.

  “Oh yes,” he answered with a wink. “I will happily do this for you.”

  Well, at least someone would be happy about it. I felt sorry for Nell, I really did, but she wasn’t taking into consideration the positives of what I proposed. Hot sex. A great income for her. World travel, elegant dinners. The many trappings of fame and success. Who wouldn’t be happy with that life? You aren’t, came a voice in my head.

  Okay, maybe I wasn’t completely happy, but that’s why I needed someone like Nell. Someone fresh and pretty. Someone to sit beside me while I flew around the world on interminable flights. A woman to talk intelligently with when I was in the mood to talk. A soft, available receptacle for my cock when I wasn’t.

  Ah, here was the receptacle now. She crossed behind the bar. I watched her put her apron on over her sensible black work slacks, pulling the long strings around from the back to the front. I thought of corsets. I thought of cinching her wrists in those long apron strings.

  She greeted Guillermo with a smile. The smile faded as he pointed over to me. They had a short exchange, Nell protesting, Guillermo urging her my way. I knew Guillermo would take care of it. And sure enough, a moment later, there she was. She pursed her full pink lips as she flipped open her order pad. Lovely pique of temper. Well, she was a redhead after all.

  “The usual?” she muttered to a spot over my shoulder. Her clear green eyes stared off into space. I’d never win her over if she wouldn’t look at me.

  “Nell.”

  She didn’t want to look, but she did. That told me something. It told me that she listened, however doubtful she was. It showed me that some part of her felt compelled to listen, even though her pretty face was screwed into a scowl.

  “Why are you here?” Her peevish tone prodded the dom in me. I wanted to pull her over my lap. Don’t spank her. Talk to her.

  “You know why I’m here, Nell. What you probably don’t know is that I won’t stop coming here until I get my way.”

  “Well, I hope you like Italian food, then,” she said, rolling her eyes. “What do you want to eat, Mr. Gray? Because I’m not going to listen to anything you have to say. I’m just going to bring you your food.”

  “Chicken parmigiana. Raspberry-walnut vinaigrette.”

  She turned on her heel and retreated to the kitchen. A moment later she returned with my salad and placed it before me on the table with a bang. I figured she’d probably spit in it.

  “Do you mind?” I asked, tapping my half-filled glass. She sucked her teeth and swiped my glass off the table. I watched her stalk to the bar to refill it. Guillermo looked over at her and threw an exaggerated wink my way.

  “Nell!” Guillermo said in a jovial voice that carried across the room. “Why not go keep Mr. Gray company? The restaurant’s empty.” Nell cringed and made a frantic hand gesture to quiet him, but Guillermo did not possess the ability to speak quietly. “Go, go! I’ll call you when the order is up.” She shot a look at me and grimaced.

  “Go on. He is a good customer. You make him feel at home for me. Look at him sitting there, so lonely—”

  Again she tried to quiet him, leaning close to speak in his ear.

  “So what? We are family here. And you know, I think he likes you,” Guillermo added in a deafening stage whisper. “Go!”

  Nell dragged herself across the bistro to my table. I stood when she arrived. “Yes, make me feel at home, Nell.” I pulled out the other chair, gestured for her to sit. I didn’t touch her, but she was so clos
e for a moment, I could smell the fresh, flowery scent of her hair.

  I returned to my chair, leaned back, and looked over at her.

  “I sense that you have not yet calmed down from our conversation last night.”

  “You sense that? How intuitive.”

  “It’s too bad. I really hoped we might talk reasonably. Well.” I sighed, stirring my salad. “Maybe later tonight.”

  “I’m working tonight.”

  “Guillermo already told me when you get off.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest and pouted so darkly that I chuckled under my breath.

  “This isn’t funny,” she said. “What are you doing here? You enjoy this? Chasing me?”

  “No, I don’t enjoy the chase. Not at all. That’s why I need you to just say yes.” I tried to read her face. I needed to find a way to break down her walls, if I was going to get her. “Believe me, I wish you no ill will. I’m disappointed with myself for going about this the wrong way. But I can’t go back now. I can only say what I feel.”

  “Mr. Gray, I mean this in the most literal way.” She spoke slowly, enunciating every word. “I will never be willing to talk. I will never talk to you about this. That is all.”

  Her eyes were hard; her mouth was set. If some small part of her was willing to consider my offer, that part was buried away.

  “Okay,” I said.

  She waited for me to say something else, but I knew anything I said to her would fall on deaf ears. A moment later, some other customers arrived, and she bolted with a sigh of relief. I ate slowly, watching her, looking for those subtle signals that would tell me how to proceed. To my frustration, I just didn’t know her well enough. Not yet anyway.