Playing a Little

by Breanna Hayse

  “Do you think we can do this? We have to live together for up to three months and I want to make sure you aren’t going to try to kill me in my sleep.”

  “I wouldn’t kill you. Bite you, maybe… I mean… ohhhh.” Camille’s face reddened as he laughed loudly.

  “You are too easy to embarrass. I’m going to have fun with you. Just wait.”

  “I haven’t made up my mind yet, so don’t push it. Do we even have any idea of the plot?” Camille asked, sinking deeper into the couch as though she were trying to hide.

  “Not really. Arthur mentioned it to be an experiment in the genre of age-play,” he stated casually, unable to share that she was the plot, “but I’m sure we’ll find out the details soon enough. Let me get you back to the cottage so you can sleep. It’s already two in the morning and I’m sure your dad is worried about you.”

  “I don’t have a father. Stan is my agent slash manager, nothing more. I’m his meal ticket.”

  “I’m sorry. I assumed Stan was your father. So, no dad? Uncles? Brothers?”

  “Nope. Bastard ran out on us the day I was born. Guess he didn’t like redheads,” Camille said sadly. “I just have my part-time mother who also sees me as a meal ticket.”

  “Well, I happen to love redheads, so good for me! Stay here while I bring the car around.” Erik blew her a kiss before he walked away on long legs that were finely shaped by rigorous exercise. Struck by the icy cold as he walked to the driveway, Erik wondered if he would have the chance to be warmed by the pretty little redhead before the filming was through. Having very few strong male influences in her life would make his role as her ‘uncle’ much more interesting, He thought of her rounded bottom and grinned.

  * * *

  Erik suppressed a smile while Stan bellowed his discontent as Camille entered the guest house and headed without a word to her room. The agent turned to squint at him.

  “I don’t know what you are so happy about, but if she gets herself sick because of her stupid temper…”

  “She very specifically asked for us not to call her stupid,” Erik interrupted, “and, if she does get sick, she will be cared for. I promise.”

  “By who? You? I did not bring her here so that the playboy of the year could get his rocks off with her! When Arthur broke the news to me that you would be her partner, I was more than displeased. And no, I haven’t let on to that yet.”

  “Stan, the media do not always paint the kindest pictures of people. They paint what will sell. Those articles about sighting me massaging all those naked women left out the fact that I was training in massage and pressure point therapy and they were my subjects. Under an instructor’s supervision. The other ones, like catching me with my hands on that woman’s breasts in the restaurant, made me sound like her secret tryst. She was choking and I was trying to dislodge it, despite the size of her boobs. Give me a chance. Please.”

  “You hit her before,” Stan growled.

  Erik sat down and looked straight at him. “She sank her teeth into my leg during a scene we were playing. And this was after she pulled several other uncomfortable pranks on me throughout the day. Yes, I smacked her bottom twice before she let go. That was it. I would never harm her,” he reassured. “Arthur said that they are going to have surveillance cameras going 24/7, in every room of the house, so nothing can happen without evidence. You knew about all this before. Why are you suddenly so concerned?”

  “I did not know you would be her leading man. I don’t trust you,” Stan sneered. “That kid has been like a daughter to me, I do not want her hurt. I don’t want her falling in love with you and then being trashed because she is not your type.”

  Erik rubbed his eyes before leaning into his hands, trying not to glance at his watch. It was very late and he was tired and wanted to wrap things up. His elbows rested on his knees and he looked down at the floor, considering the best way to practice the art of persuasion.

  “I understand. I honestly do. All I can do is to give you my word and promise that I will do everything I can to protect her heart and her honor. As for my type, I beg to differ. She is sweet, sassy, smart, and absolutely adorable. Yeah, Stan, don’t look so surprised. I do find her incredibly attractive and in more ways than just the physical.”

  “She is too vulnerable and naive…”

  “I don’t want to be hurt either, okay? For all I know, she may hate me before we even get close to finishing this project because of the content. But I can promise you this. She will be a different woman by the time we are done. I will help her find her voice, her self-respect, and her inner beauty. You already know that I am a licensed life coach and that it is Arthur’s hope to produce a spectacular film based on the reality of how effective my specific type of behavioral modification is.”

  “I get it, okay? Arthur is known for taking risks and discovering hidden truths behind the scenes. He is famous for that, and for exposing controversial subjects to the world. We are talking about my girl here, and her reputation and safety. When it came to this age-play thing as he described it, I really thought she would be matched with someone… Old.”

  “It would not make the subject any less taboo, Stan. Besides, to her, I already have one foot in the grave,” Erik chuckled, shaking his head. “I will tell you what. How about if she has a Life Alert installed that will allow her to cut a scene if she feels it is too intense? A Hollywood version of 911. That will trigger the end of the moment and allow her complete control.”

  “Well…”

  “I will also make certain that no one views any of the footage before I do, to save her dignity. Put aside your concern for her income and career for a moment. You care about her. Would you deny her the opportunity to become stronger than she is? More confident? Less fearful?”

  “Of course not, but…”

  “Then give me a chance. Like Arty told me, this is my way of paying it forward for all the things he did for me. She’s a good kid and deserves to see that she is so much more than what she perceives about herself. I truly believe I can help bring her there.”

  Erik studied Stan’s expression as the older man struggled with his decision. It also gave him a sense of relief that Stan was concerned for the girl beyond the money she would make for him. It raised the agent up a notch of respect. Stan finally sighed, nodding.

  “Very well. But have that alert button in place and no one better have access to anything that will harm her reputation or cause her mockery. And boy?”

  “Yeah?” Erik responded, amused by the term.

  “Don’t even think of hurting my girl. I will find you. It is still her decision, though, and I am not going to try to influence her.”

  “Yes, sir, I understand. And thank you. I promise you will not regret this,” Erik said with relief. “Are you going to come with us in the morning? We are heading to the set to get a feel for the script.”

  “The non-existent script? Yeah, I will come. What time?”

  * * *

  The alarm buzzed exactly three hours from the time Erik had dropped his tired body into bed. He groaned, smacking the offensive clock with his left hand as he stared at the dark ceiling. Five-thirty in the morning was too early for any self-respecting human being to be awake. Hell, any time before ten was too early to be awake. But then again, he had a job to do. After throwing on sweats and his running shoes, Erik ventured out into the snow-covered world of Arthur’s estate. Relieved to see that the roads had already been cleared, he stretched lazily, trying to psych himself to begin the run. He could see his breath as he sharply inhaled the icy air and willed himself to begin.

  The stillness of the morning helped clear his head and he began to think of ways to introduce Camille to his special, secret world. A secret that would cease to exist once the cameras started to run. He was relieved by Stan’s insistence that nothing be revealed prior to his own review. That would afford him to really indulge in the activities that he wanted to attempt. It was just a matter of convincing Arthur of the wis
dom behind his decision. And, of course, convincing Camille to accept the role.

  A shock of red hair zoomed in front of him and, with a grin, he raced to catch the other runner. She gave him a good chase, skidding around corners and sprinting up hills as though she were born to the snow. He finally found her, wheezing behind an old, snow-laden tree.

  “Have fun running from me?” he asked, handing her a bottle of water.

  She looked at him with innocence. “I didn’t even know you were there, so don’t flatter yourself, Erik. What are you doing up so early?”

  “I wanted to get a run in before we met you for our trip to the set. You?”

  “I am always up before the crack of dawn. You better get used to it if we are going to be hanging out together 24/7.”

  “First house rule. No waking me before seven in the morning on a weekday, or before ten on the weekend,” Erik scowled.

  “Oh yeah? And what if I do?” Camille asked, steadying her hand on a branch just over her head.

  “Then you will be receiving a real spanking. Not like the play one, either.”

  Camille raised her eyebrow and pulled, sending a mound of snow over the top of his head. She ran off before he had a chance to recover from the shock.

  “Oooo, you are gonna get it for that little prank, Miss LeCroix,” Erik growled, brushing off the snow and shaking the ice from inside his sweatshirt. “You just raised the ante, Cami-girl.”

  Two hours later, Erik frowned from his seat in the Hummer as they traveled to the set. Camille sat next to Stan, pretending to ignore him as she played a game on her tablet. Arthur and Stan were involved in a lively discussion about media trends, including the elevation of the more taboo elements, including spanking.

  “… Very true,” Arthur was saying, “you are seeing it more and more as an excepted demonstration of both affection and discipline. I always found it interesting how the public embraces the seduction of things like bondage and rough sex in film scripts, but would put up such a ruckus if they witnessed a man spanking a woman. Doesn’t make much sense to me.”

  “I guess they view it as archaic,” Stan said, “but you never hear a fuss about that same man slapping her across the face, which results in a type of foreplay in the same type of film. Maybe it is a matter of stimulating the dark side of the audience. They love to see sex, and are uncomfortable but excited when the sex becomes animalistic because it sparks their interests.”

  “Agreed. Camille? What do you think about this topic? You are awfully quiet,” Arthur asked.

  Camille glanced up. “I wasn’t paying attention. Sorry.”

  “He wanted to know what you thought about a man spanking a naughty woman’s bottom. Like after she dumps a bough-full of snow on his head,” Erik stated, ignoring the laughter that followed.

  “I think it is barbaric and ungentlemanly,” Camille sniffed, “especially if said man deserved a face-full of snow.”

  “Really, Cam? You didn’t,” Stan exclaimed.

  “She most certainly did and if anyone deserved a good spanking, I would say she did. Don’t you agree?” Erik frowned again, his handsome, dimpled stare causing Camille to fidget uncomfortably.

  “You are ridiculous. It was just a little snow,” came the response.

  Erik watched her shrink into the leather seat as he began to stare at her with more intensity. “We will discuss your prank later when we have some privacy. Stan? Did you inform Arthur and Camille about our agreement? It was rather important, don’t you think?” Erik asked, not taking his eyes off the reddening girl. Her face was nearly the color of the tight bun of hair that she had piled on the top of her head. The style did little to disguise the mess of unruly curls that threatened to spill from it and he found it alluring.

  Chagrined, Stan relayed the discussion, including the assurance that all the cameras would be kept private until after Erik’s review, and the emergency button for Camille. Arthur frowned, protesting the degree of privacy and how it would inhibit his screenplay from unfolding.

  “I disagree, you old pervert,” Erik replied grouchily. “You won’t have to see what is happening. I will email you a full report every day and, if I feel the videos will help you develop your story, I will allow you access. These are my terms, Arthur. I do not want this girl having to worry about being followed into the bathroom by your camera crew!”

  Arthur’s expression nearly brought Erik to hysterics. His face turned pale, then reddened, then elevated to a lovely shade of purple before he spouted several profanities. Camille’s eyes widened.

  “I will apologize for his lack of manners, Miss LeCroix,” Erik said, staying in character, “he is not accustomed to anyone standing up to him, even when he is wrong. You will have your film, Arthur, but not the way you planned. Camille has not signed the contract yet, so it is this way or no way.”

  “You…”

  “End of discussion. For this to work, Camille needs to trust me to look out for her best interests. She can’t if she is afraid of being judged, even by you. Am I right, Cam?”

  Camille just stiffly nodded in agreement, taken aback by the way in which Erik had stood up to the producer for her sake. With a grunt, Arthur agreed and, before they arrived on set, the contract, with revisions handwritten in, was signed.

  Arthur stood by Erik’s side as Stan and Camille exited the vehicle. “You sneaky little bastard. I didn’t know you had it in you. I know that you love to terrorize every producer and director you work with, but me? I was like a father to you!”

  “This wasn’t a ploy to get them to sign. I am serious about this, Arty. I don’t want anyone having access to those cameras until I look at them. There will be too many things that can hurt her if they ever got out to the public, and I won’t take that risk. Trust me, you will get a movie like you never expected. But you have to allow me to do my job.”

  “You got her to sign the contract. That is all I need. You still pissed me off, Mr. High and Mighty.”

  “You’ll get over it. Now, let’s go show them around the compound. Miss LeCroix? May I do the honors?” Erik asked, holding out his arm for her to take. She accepted with a shy smile, wrapping her cold hand in the crook of his elbow. With a reassuring pat, he led her inside the lake house.

  Chapter Five

  The magnificent structure was named so not because of the massive, ice-bound lake behind it, but because it was built atop a large pool designed to look like a Japanese pond. Inspired by his trip to Japan, Arthur had the house made like a giant dojo, with each room separated by arching bridges and accented with Asian art and luxurious planters filled with blooming flowers and thick ferns. Erik slowly slipped Camille’s jacket from her shoulders as she stood in silent shock, taken by the beauty before her.

  “This is incredible,” Stan stuttered. They stood in the foyer, a large granite platform that stretched into two bridges before them. The walls around them dripped happily with water into the pool below, the occasional stray drops striking tiny hanging chimes.

  “I hate this place. It makes me want to pee,” Arthur commented with a shrug. “I mainly bought it for entertaining, but barely use it anymore. Erik comes here the most to escape. The private living quarters and guest bedrooms are to the right. The left is the community rooms, kitchen, recreation, and gym.”

  “After you, madam,” Erik offered. Camille flushed before him again and followed Arthur to the left-sided bridge. They walked into an enormous, open room decorated in oriental red and black, with high windowed ceilings separated by red timber. Black leather and lacquered furnishings encircled an open fire pit whose black hood sat suspended from the ceiling. Asian artwork, framed in black lacquer, covered the red walls with tiny planters of orchids that softened the harshness of the room. The far side opened to a tremendous kitchen, done in bright chrome and black. Windows inhabited every outside wall, encouraging rays of light to penetrate and bathe the area in the sun’s natural warmth.

  “It is especially lovely here in the winter on
a sunny day,” Erik said, slowly reaching to release Camille’s hair from the bun. “The color reminds me of your hair during sunset. Shh, let me take it down. It is beautiful, you know.”

  Camille lowered her face as her hair tumbled over her shoulders. Erik gently ran his hand over it.

  “Over here,” Arthur cleared his throat, “is the billiards room and bar. Let’s head to the garden room where the caterers set up our breakfast. We have to go through the aviary, so watch your heads. The hummingbirds are very territorial.”

  “This is breathtaking,” Camille whispered to Erik. “Are we really going to be staying here for the filming?”

  “Yeah. It took me nearly a month to find my way around the first time I came here. There is over 28,000 square feet of living area, not counting the grounds. My only suggestion is to not go swimming in the pond. Some of Arthur’s koi can swallow you whole. Plus, it pisses him off. He loves his damn fish.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me after discovering he keeps a heated fish pond during the winter,” Camille giggled, holding her hand over her mouth in a way that Erik found very appealing. Her smile was contagious and he found himself wanting to find ways to bring it out even more. They walked down several curved stairs and into another large room that contained splashing fountains, ornamental trees, more orchids, and giant masses of ferns. Lounges and reading chairs were nestled in different parts of the garden, and sounds of quiet wind chimes echoed from behind the trees. Several hummingbirds flitted above them, diving toward the invaders with high squawks announcing their intent to guard their tiny nests.

  “Damn little birds are meaner than shit,” Arthur grumbled, ducking one. He gestured toward the adjacent room where a table was laden with fruit, Danishes, breads, and plates of Nova Scotia salmon, caviar, and smoked trout. “Please, help yourself. Just keep the aviary door closed otherwise those darts with wings will come in and stab you.”