Playing a Little

by Breanna Hayse

  “How…”

  “I know every shortcut and turn of this place, brat. Are you having fun?’

  “Actually, I am. I am experimenting with my character. Kicking your butt playing Candy Land last night motivated me. I really had fun, especially when I won.”

  “You cheated,” Erik grunted, taking her hand and leading her toward the kitchen. “I can’t believe you woke me up though. Did you really call me an old man?”

  “It’s good to know your hearing isn’t impaired yet,” Camille giggled, dodging his hand as it swung in the direction of her backend.

  “You are just asking for it today, aren’t you? Give me chance to have some coffee and wake up. No, you may not have coffee.”

  “That’s not fair.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I heard you.”

  * * *

  Camille could not decide whether it was the brisk weather, having the best night’s sleep that she could remember, or the fact that she was walking, hand in hand, with the most handsome man that had ever appeared on the silver screen—whatever it was caused her to keep erupting into episodes of tiny giggles.

  “You are certainly in a wonderful mood today. What gives?”

  “Honestly, I don’t know, I just feel… Well, free. No cameras, no paparazzi, no schedules or agents breathing down my throat to set up another audition. It feels wonderful.”

  “Haven’t you ever taken a vacation?” Erik asked, helping her across a small ditch as they made their way toward the lake.

  “Never. The only time I was ever alone was when I was in my room. And even then, my mother was outside the door screaming at me to learn my lines. Plus answering all the fan mail and blog posts… that was a great idea, by the way.”

  “To put your blog on vacation? I do it all the time. Trust me, it will not hurt you to take a break. Here we go,” he announced as they arrived at the lake’s edge. “See that yellow rope? It is a border marker and tow line. Never, ever go past it, and if you see the ice is black, stay off. This part of the lake is fairly shallow, but you can still get hurt if you fall through.”

  “Why would I care about the ice? I mean… Skates!?” Camille clapped her hands gleefully as he pulled out two sets of ice skates from his backpack. “I’ve always wanted to ice skate! Can you teach me? Please?”

  “It will be my pleasure, baby. Sit down and I’ll lace you up.”

  Camille could hardly sit still, her excitement brimming over in abundance. Erik helped her to her feet, supporting her carefully as they stepped upon the ice. She clutched him tightly as he pulled her toward him, making her stand on wobbly blades. Coaxing her, he began to skate backwards, holding her hands as she struggled to stay upright. When he finally let her go, Camille squeaked loudly as she took three steps before falling. Erik rushed to help her up, fussing over her as though she were made of china. Camille laughed again, grabbing his arm to steady herself. Erik caught her mid-fall and grabbed her around the waist. He steadied her again, holding her firmly as she faced him, his hands spanning her waist as she clutched his shoulders tightly. Camille looked up into his eyes, beautiful blue orbs that matched the sky. She felt herself relax in his grip and gazed at him with pure trust.

  Without warning, he crushed his lips against hers, esuriently pulling her to him in a powerful embrace. Camille had never been kissed before. Not like this. His lips were both soft and firm against her mouth, his breath sweet as his tongue began to probe. She hesitated before joining him, darting her tongue in a tiny dance around his. He drew her even closer, lifting her face with his hands. His kiss was like him—sweet, demanding, confident, and possessive. When he released her from his hold, Camille found herself panting. Her hazel eyes were wide as she lifted her fingers to touch her bruised mouth. That incredible kiss had nothing to do with age-play!

  “I think we should skate some more,” she forced out, trying to convince herself that her legs were shaking due to the skates. Erik simply nodded and took her hand, guiding her patiently over the ice. Her nervous giggles had subsided and she concentrated on learning the skill of staying upright and moving forward. He praised her frequently, always touching her in one way or another, and Camille found herself pretending that she finally was a princess who may have found her very own Prince Charming.

  But it was just pretend. Things like this did not happen to girls like her. She had to remind herself that this whole thing, including the kiss, was an experiment in human nature and designed to sell theater tickets. She grew quieter as the minutes ticked by. The change of her mood did not go unnoticed.

  “Are you all right, Cami?” Erik asked with concern in his voice.

  “I’m getting tired. This is hard work,” she answered, avoiding his eyes.

  Erik lifted her chin to look up at him. “I can tell when you are lying to me. Let’s call it quits for the day. We can talk later about what is bothering you.”

  “I’m not lying!” Camille said defensively, watching as he raised his eyebrow. “I really am tired and my ankles are sore. And I am getting cold.”

  “But that isn’t all, is it?”

  “That is all I want to talk about right now. I…” Her words were interrupted by another kiss. This one even sweeter and more demanding as he lifted her off the ice. Slowly, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back, feeling as though she could never get enough of his embrace. His presence was like honey to a hungry bee, and she hated herself for this weakness. Even more, she hated about how right, and utterly good, it felt. This time, Erik was the one who pulled away, panting for air.

  “Um, let’s get you home. I will make you some hot cocoa,” he said briskly, putting her down and leading her off the ice. He kept her at arm’s length as well. Camille frowned in confusion. Did I do something wrong? Was that second kiss just an act, too? Part of the character exploration?

  Neither spoke as they walked back up to the house and settled before the blazing fire in the middle of the living room, warming their cold hands around mugs of steaming French Vanilla Cappuccino Latte with a dash of cinnamon.

  “I thought you didn’t want me to drink coffee,” Camille said quietly, sipping the beverage in delight.

  “I don’t want your little to drink coffee. You are not a little right now,” Erik said, his voice sounding strained. She watched as he shifted uncomfortably next to her.

  “Erik? Please tell me. Did I do something wrong?” Camille asked, holding back frightened tears.

  “No, baby, not at all. In fact, you are too right,” Erik sighed, placing his cup on the table. He turned to look at her. “I should not have done that. I am so, so sorry.”

  “I’m confused. Done what?”

  “Kissed you like that. It is too soon and… Oh, hell.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I am drawn to you like a moth to the fire, Camille. I want you. All of you. But I also know that you need to find yourself first.”

  “You want me?”

  “Don’t look so surprised. Yes. Every day that we spent together, before we came here, I found myself growing excited to bring on the next day just so I could be with you. I have never had that desire before and it confounded me. You have done something to me that I can’t explain. I want your heart, body, and soul. I want to own you, possess you, be everything that you have ever wanted. And I am so afraid that… That I will fall short of your expectations.”

  Camille’s mouth hung open as she listened to his confession, stunned to learn that, in many ways, he was as insecure as she was! He suddenly became very human to her and she felt her heart begin to hammer in her chest.

  “I really want to try this age-play thing with you. You are right,” Camille whispered. “I realized today how much of life I have missed out on because my little girl was forced to grow up too quickly and what little was there, was not wanted. Will you help me? And her? Please? Can you maybe teach me how to have fun and not worry so much about what people think? Like you?”

  “You want to be like me? But you hear…”


  “I know the tabloids exaggerate and manipulate everything they can. You have pursued your dreams. You don’t put up with any guff from the directors or other actors. You are strong and confident, and yet you still know how to enjoy the things that life gives you. I want to be more like you are. I am so tired of being the perfectly behaved Camille LeCroix who, except in her role as Pippi, never smiles.”

  “I am not that happy, honey. I…”

  “Okay, you need to learn how to laugh more and goof around, but maybe this… this thing we are doing can help both of us. Please, Erik. Teach me. I saw you play last night. When you caught me cheating, you almost let go of your need to be stoic. I really liked that side of you. It made me laugh and I want to see more.”

  “I don’t know what to say. I mean, I am both surprised and thrilled that you can see who I am past the image of the media. As for the playful side, I give you the credit; you bring it out in me. I have been engaged in this lifestyle for a long time and I have never been more relaxed and free with a little as I am with you,” he admitted quietly.

  “I also need to know what having a real friend feels like. I have never had one. My life was filled with acquaintances—tons of people who I never knew intimately or learned to care about. For the last eleven years, I hid in my dressing room between scenes to avoid being ridiculed by my costars. When I got home, I holed myself up in my bedroom to escape my mother. I am so tired of hiding.”

  “Believe it or not, I am a loner as well. I never had the time, or desire, to make friends. Mainly because of my trust issues. I was the opposite of you. It took me a long time to accept that late-night parties and greedy women did not satisfy my need for intimacy. So you see, I do understand. More than you realize,” Erik responded contemplatively. “I guess we have both chosen to live a very lonely existence, huh, kiddo? You… Even in this role… Satisfy my need for intimacy.”

  “Then can we work on helping each other? I know that I need this, Erik. I did not realize how much until I woke up this morning and felt so alive. Will you teach me? I want to explore the very depths of this character inside of me and I can’t do it alone.”

  “Of course I will, baby girl. Anything that you need, I am here for you.”

  “Good. And that need goes both ways.” She put her mug down on the table and stood in front of him. “Right now, I need you to be consistent. I managed to divert you this morning and, by nature, I can be a little manipulative. I don’t like that part of me and want to change it.”

  “Really? What do you suggest I do about it, dear?” Erik raised his eyebrows with amusement at her doughtiness.

  “You can start with spanking me for breaking your house rules of jumping on the bed and swearing.” She attempted to appear brave, hoping that he would admire her integrity.

  “Seriously?” He looked taken aback. Soon a small smile covered his face. “You do understand that breaking house rules means a more severe punishment than what you have previously received, don’t you?”

  Camille nodded, lifting the Life Alert button from her neck and tossing it on the table. She was determined to see this through, without an escape. It was time for her to stop hiding from herself and the world. She needed this. “Yes, Uncle Erik, and I don’t need, or want, a way to run from what you have to teach me. I… I trust you.”

  “Trust is a gift that I don’t take lightly, darling. May I ask what really brought this on? Yes, we kissed, but…”

  “I had an epiphany, that’s all. I realized that I need to start somewhere in this healing process if I am ever going to be any good for anyone else I might end up with in my life,” Camille said softly. “I owe this to myself, and Stan, to at least try. I have to find a way to wipe out the past and not allow the words spoken to me in cruelty to have the power to dictate my future. No one can do that for me, but I need to learn some tools to help myself.”

  “You are wise beyond your years,” Erik sighed. “Are you going to allow me to direct you in any way that I see fit?”

  “Yes, sir. I will try not to fight you. No promises, though. If I am going to react, then it might also include noncompliance. I have to take the risk that being myself will not drive away the people I care about.”

  “I expect that. May I also touch you? Intimately?”

  Camille hesitated and then nodded her head. “I am just not ready for sex. I mean…”

  “Me neither, baby. With you, I would want to make certain that there is something more between us than a movie contract. You deserve that. Nothing less.”

  “Thank you,” Camille whispered. “That means a lot to me that you said that.”

  “Go to your room, Cami. You are to find a nice corner and put your little, freckled nose in it while you wait for me. I will be there shortly, after I straighten up in here and put the skates away.”

  “Yes, sir, Uncle Erik.” On impulse, Camille reached down and hugged him tightly before racing out of the room.

  Chapter Nine

  Erik leaned back against the sofa, watching the young woman scurry away. Then he reached forward to pick up the Life Alert button, holding it thoughtfully in his hand. What happened? he asked himself. It was just a kiss. Two kisses…

  No, not just a kiss. Not for him, anyway. The taste of her lips on his was the sweetest thing he could ever remember having experienced. She had abandoned her fears for him, trusting him to guide her through this journey into womanhood. Like him, she was tired of living her life in the way that others desired; she wanted to live for herself. Staring at the little device in his palm, he began to plot out his mission. First, to bring her to a place of true abandon and absolute trust and second, to make her his own possession. His fingers wrapped around the object in his hand, closing to a fist. She truly trusted him. She had no illusions about their future together and no hidden agenda. She simply wanted to heal. So did he.

  The clap of his boots along the wooden walkways rebounded off the walls and under the bridges. Erik had never noticed how hollow it sounded before, perhaps because his steps had not previously taken him to discipline his little girl. My Cami-girl, he thought to himself with a soft smile. She loves being called Cami… her eyes just shine with joy, he recalled. As though she knew it was her special name, given to her by a loving uncle and a true friend.

  Erik paused in the doorway of her room to study her posture as she stood obediently with her nose to the corner, hands clasped in front of her body while shifting back and forth from left to right as though she did not know what to do with herself. He settled a stern look upon his face and sat on the edge of the bed.

  “Camille Loren? Come here, please.”

  Camille bit her lip as she approached him, wringing her hands nervously. He reached out and took them in his own, squeezing gently. “How old are you?”

  “I’m nineteen. You know that.”

  “No, Camille. How old are you now? How old do you feel as you are standing in front of me, about to get a very firm spanking?”

  “About twelve. Like when we were on set,” she said, her voice nearly a whisper as her lower lip began to quiver.

  “That is an honest appraisal. Very well. This is where we will start. Follow me.”

  Erik led her out of her room and across the walkway that led away from the nursery. He stood at a closed door, waiting for her to catch up, and then reached for her chin.

  “Arthur had several different rooms designed for this experiment. Since you are feeling more like a pre-teen, I think this room will suit you better right now. Just remember that this is temporary, because I plan to get you back into the nursery as soon as you are ready.”

  Camille’s mouth hung open as she entered her ‘big girl’ room. It was decorated in hot pink and zebra prints, and had posters on the wall. Of Erik! He grinned with a shrug as she looked at him with a disapproving frown.

  “This is Arthur’s doing. He had it decorated like the normal, American teenage girl. He put my posters up to embarrass me. I have to admit, he did a good
job. At embarrassing me, I mean.”

  Camille lifted her brow skeptically and then returned to peruse the room with her eyes. A black metal desk with hot pink trim and a matching dresser were placed against the far wall, complete with a stereo, TV, and video station. On the floor was a giant faux fur zebra skin rug, also trimmed in hot pink.

  Erik pointed to an empty corner. “Even bigger girls get corner time with me. Go stand there, hands on your head, and think about how naughty you have been. I will be right back.”

  He returned ten minutes later, carrying a book in his hand. He called Camille over, handing it to her. “When we are done with your spanking, you will sit, bare-bottomed, at your desk and write 500 lines. They will say, ‘I promise to mind Uncle Erik and all his house rules or I will be getting spanked on my bare bottom again.’ Understand? Now write it down so you don’t forget it.”

  “Yes, sir, Uncle Erik,” she whispered, hand trembling as she took the notebook from him. He watched as she wrote the sentence, her handwriting shaky as she eyed the large, broad hairbrush that he had placed on her new bed.

  “Very good. Since you are a big girl, I expect different behavior from you during your punishment. When you are over my knee, you are to keep your palms flat on the floor and no kicking or squirming. Big girls are expected to accept their punishment because they know better how to behave.”

  “Is it too late for me to be two?” Camille asked, drawing her brows together.

  Erik nodded, cupping her face in his hand. “This time, yes. You will have plenty of time to find the age where you feel the least constrained in how you react. Right now, though, you are twelve. Turn your bottom across my lap, young lady. Let’s get this done with.”

  “I’m scared.”

  “Your bottom should be scared. It is going to be very, very sore by the time I am done with it. Now mind me.”