Aspen smoothed down the lapels of his jacket and brushed lint off of his pants.
“Aspen, be sure you stay in your room during filming,” Eagan said.
The woman glanced at him and nodded.
“I’m not ashamed of what I do with you or this Lifestyle, sir.”
“I know. But I understand about your children. They have families and I know you’ve told me that they don’t approve of your desired choice in how you live your life. Being seen on camera would hurt you and them, and that’s not what I’m about.”
“I know that, sir. That’s what I love about you.” When she smiled, the wrinkles around her eyes spread in thin lines like sunrays.
“I love you too, Aspen, which is why my offer of setting you up at The Westin for the duration of the show still stands.”
She shook her head until it look like it would pop off if she kept going. “No, sir. My job, my life, is here with you. I want to serve you.”
Eagan kissed her forehead. “If you’re staying, I want you to at least wear a mask. There are cameras set up everywhere in the house. I don’t want to chance that you’ll get caught.”
She smiled. “I still have my veil. I will wear that.”
“Great idea. I’ve also instructed the editing team to blur out your face just in case. Since tonight is the live show, you’re going to have to make yourself scarce.”
She kissed the back of his hand. “Yes, sir.”
“You’re dismissed. Go to your room for the rest of the evening.”
Without a word, she turned and sashayed back to her quarters.
As Eagan straightened out his cuffs, gazing at himself in the full-length mirror in his walk-in closet, he’d hoped that Cine-tastic would have called him and told him that they had changed their minds.
Just the opposite. They fell over themselves being accommodating. In an era of pushing envelopes, the cable channel offered Eagan anything and everything he wanted … including women to satisfy his needs until the show started.
To see how far they were willing to go, Eagan had made some outlandish demands. He stopped short of hinting at bestiality. Even he couldn’t go that far to get out of this deal.
At the time Phil pitched the idea, Eagan wanted to do it. Could it be that easy to find his next submissive through a reality show? And could he stoop so low as to get his next submissive that way?
“Fuck it. I’m going to cancel this.” He undid the top button of his shirt and turned to the door to give the cameramen, boom operators, and potential submissives the bad news.
As soon as he opened the door, Phil stood on the other side.
“You’re not backing out.” Phil put his hands to his hips in a smug manner.
“I wasn’t going to do that.” In an equally defiant move, Eagan put his fists to his hips.
Phil pointed up.
Directing his gaze to the ceiling, Eagan saw a camera with a small microphone next to it.
“Damn. There goes my privacy.” Had he actually agreed to let them record his every move? “My dance studio and office are off limits, right?”
Phil shook his head. “Just your office and your bathroom. Of course, we want to know what’s going on in every room of your house.”
“Of course.”
Nina scurried down the hallway and planted herself in front of Eagan. “The submissives are ready. And it’s about twenty minutes to show time.” She buttoned his top button and smoothed down his lapels.
“Good. Keep them waiting. The longer they wait, the more I’m sure one or more will crack under the pressure.”
“Are you kidding? This is live. You’d be wasting valuable air time.” Phil dragged his fingers through his espresso-colored hair.
“Since I’m the executive producer, it’d be my money I’d be wasting. Besides, what I’m looking for is a reaction. Be sure to keep the cameras and mics right on them. You need to capture their every thought and concern.”
“You are the king of mind games, aren’t you?” Phil patted him on his back. “I’ll make sure the host knows what’s going on so he doesn’t assume you flipped out on us.” He reached the door, then directed his attention to his friend again. “By the way, I am directing this, aren’t I? For a minute back there, it sounded like you were trying to take over.”
Eagan smiled. “Habit.”
Looking a tad remorseful, Phil shook his head. “Do these women know what they’re in for?”
“Trust me. They’ll soon find out.” Eagan directed his attention to his full-length mirror again.
Eagan wanted to see his prospects, give them all a once over. Even if he let them wait over thirty minutes, he needed to look presentable. He smoothed his hand over his hair, parted on the side. As he adjusted his cuffs, he straightened his posture. These women would be expecting a true Master. A Dom. He would be that and then some.
“Mr. Morton,” a male voice said over his home’s intercom system. “Fifteen minutes, sir. Nina will bring you down when we’re ready for you.”
No, Nina would wait. Eagan would go when he was ready. He strolled to his desk where he had the show’s agenda for that night. For this pilot episode, Eagan had to introduce himself, have the ladies introduce themselves to him, then they would all sip champagne and eat strawberries as a way to ease viewers into the show and not jar them just yet.
Eagan snickered. “Bullshit.”
Ducking into his closet, he grabbed a black overnight bag he used as his goody bag. When he traveled with his submissive, well, when he used to travel with her, he carried the bag as a way to keep up the bondage and discipline on the road. At one time, as a lark, he thought of selling his idea of a BDSM bag for the road to those in the Lifestyle. He just didn’t have the time or energy to take on another project.
“Those twelve women want to be introduced into BDSM? They’re going to get it.” Eagan unzipped the bag, then smiled at the contents. Some items made him laugh out loud.
At the sound of his laughter, Nina opened the door. “Are you ready?”
“No.”
Eagan zipped the bag closed. When he sat in his favorite armchair, he noticed Nina’s bottom jaw dropped.
“The women are waiting.” To punctuate her point, Nina jutted her thumb over her shoulder to direct him to the downstairs area.
“I know. They’ll just have to wait.” He crossed his legs. “Don’t worry. Phil is aware of what I’m doing.”
Nina’s shoulders hunched around her ears out of nervousness.
“Relax.” Eagan held his hand up hoping to calm the petite woman.
“I can’t. I just want to make sure this show comes off perfect, you know? As associate producer, I have a stake in this, too.”
Eagan grabbed the arm of the chair again. “We’ll be fine. You’ll see. This will be the biggest show since Singing Sensation, the show where they find the next big pop singer.” It used to be that anything Eagan touched turned to media gold. Now, even Nina questioned his validity in the business.
Nina laughed. “You’ll be the new snarky judge.”
“So you think I’m cruel and unfeeling?”
Eagan watched Nina’s expression go from jovial to horrified in a matter of seconds.
“No! Of course not. I just meant that you’re direct and some people may not appreciate that.”
“And some people might.” Eagan stared at her for a moment.
Although it was summertime, Nina wore loose-fitting jeans, Birkenstocks, and a plain white T-shirt sans bra, obvious by her dark pink areolas. As a right-hand woman to him, Eagan found he couldn’t operate his day-to-day business without her.
As a potential submissive, the bond wasn’t there. After playing with her a month ago, he knew for sure that she wasn’t the one for him. If she wanted to be his submissive, she had to trust him. That’s why he’d brought out his bags of tricks early. He needed to see who could trust him and who couldn’t.
“You need to calm yourself.” Eagan held his hand up.
She peered over her shoulder first then turned her gaze up to the camera in the ceiling. “They see and hear everything.”
“You have something to hide?”
She shook her head. After setting her clipboard on the floor, she glided to him. She released a long, haggard breath then lowered herself to his feet. Like a cat, she curled her body next to his legs, hugging them, as she set her head on his knee.
Without missing a beat, Eagan stroked her silky hair. “You’re an amazing woman.”
“Thank you, sir.” She squeezed his legs tighter.
“However, you still need to work on your confidence, right?”
She didn’t verbally answer. He felt her head move, but couldn’t tell if she nodded or shook it.
“Again,” he demanded.
“Yes, sir.” Her tiny voice projected throughout his bedroom.
“Very good. I wished you understood how very special and wonderful you are.” He stroked her like a cat.
Small trembles riddled her body.
Eagan asked, “Are you okay with this whole thing? Do we need to talk?”
Nina paused before answering. “No, we don’t. You have been more than generous with me, sir.”
“Are you telling me the truth?”
“Yes, sir. I’m fine.” She sniffed.
“You know I’m always here for you. You and I will always be special friends.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Now, if he could get her to stop this damn show, he would consider this woman his very best friend in the entire world.
“Eagan, do you know when you’ll be coming downstairs?” Phil asked through the intercom.
Eagan didn’t answer. He still had to clear his head. Didn’t help that he had a whole bag full of tricks to present to a group of potential submissives. God help him.
* * * *
Ananda noticed the other women shifting their weight from one foot to the other. The spiked four-inch stilettos the show had given to her and the other eleven women were not the most comfortable in the world. However, Ananda had an advantage. She rested her weight on the balls of her feet. Dancing came in handy in all aspects of her life. Besides, how in the world could she turn down an opportunity to wear a pair of Manolo Blahniks?
That didn’t top the clothes. Ananda had decided to wear a simple beige Calvin Klein dress. Since the dress hugged the body, Ananda thought it would give her an edge. The other ladies wore something short or with plunging necklines or high slits on the sides. These women were really putting themselves out there for this man.
So what if he had a lot of money? In her eyes, he was still the same asshole that passed her over for the dancing job. She’d never forget that. And at the end of this show, the end of her time on the show, he would know that.
“Okay, ladies, listen up,” one of the associate producers said. “The show is about to start. I need you all to slip on your masks.”
“Masks?” one woman spat.
“Please, do not act surprised. Everyone’s contract clearly stated that while you’re an active contestant and have not been eliminated, you will wear a mask the entire time. Aside from being eliminated, the only time you may take the mask off is when you’re bathing. Eventually, that may change as well.”
“Depending on what?” Ananda asked.
“Depending on what Mr. Morton likes.”
The room became deathly quiet. It was clear then that this was real and not a game.
“Now slip on the mask and line up in a single file.”
Ananda and the other women went to a table where masks were lined up in two rows. Although they were all colorful, looking more like Mardi Gras masks than BDSM ones, they were sturdier. The mask covered the top portion of her face while leaving everything below her nose exposed.
Hair stylists and makeup artists swooped down on the group of unprepared women. Cameras came into the room and took footage of the skittish contestants.
As soon as the restrictive adornment covered her face, she then noticed the different body shapes and sizes. Ananda took a quick inventory in her mind. Out of twelve women, four, including Ananda, were African-American. Four were white, two looked Hispanic, one was Asian, and there was one whose origin Ananda couldn’t pinpoint.
Stick thin women mixed in with healthier-sized women and a couple of women who were pleasantly plump. Standing in the back of the line, Ananda clasped her hands together.
“Follow me, ladies.” The producer led the way.
A small trickle of sweat rolled down her back between her shoulder blades. Aside from her purse, Ananda had no personal belongings with her. They all got confiscated when she came to Ego’s house.
“I don’t know about you, but I feel like I have a damn good chance of making it,” the woman standing in front of Ananda whispered to her.
“Why is that?”
The producer leading the group turned around when Ananda spoke. Although he didn’t tell them all to remain quiet, for some reason silence seemed to be what was expected.
“A man like Eagan Morton can’t have some porker on his arm. He needs some eye candy.” She snorted when she laughed. “I understand what men like him want.”
“I have a feeling we’re in for some surprises with this show.” Ananda’s knees knocked together the closer they got to the main foyer of the house.
“Honey, I’ve been on three shows like this. It’s a piece of cake. Tell the guys what they want to hear and they’re putty in your hands. I’ve had two marriage proposals from two of those shows.”
“Why aren’t you married?”
The line stopped at the entryway to the foyer.
“The show was over. What the hell did I need him for?” She snorted again. “By the way, I’m Iona.”
“I’m—”
Iona cut her off. “Don’t bother, honey. You probably won’t be here that long for me to remember your name anyway.”
Heat rose to Ananda’s face. She hadn’t care about winning before. Now her game-face was on. She at least wanted to outlast this chick.
Through hidden speakers throughout the house, a blaring rendition of the Psychedelic Furs’ song “Love My Way” sounded through them. Ananda scanned the opulent room. Marble covered the floor with a big E.M. in gold in a center crest. Marble steps went to the upstairs. Good God. Was that an elevator?
She directed her attention to a screen next to the camera crew. The opening credits rolled. It was apparent the show would be about Eagan and no one else. Every shot had Eagan working, playing, dressing, undressing. If wearing masks and putting up with Ego got her work, she would do it.
The last shot in the opening credit showed a confident Eagan Morton. He stood in the middle of the screen wearing a distinguished suit and a cocky smile. The camera pulled back in the shot and Eagan cracked a whip over his head. At the tail end of the whip, the show’s name flashed across the screen.
Every woman gasped. A couple turned to the doorway then turned back. This was no longer a game. Would Eagan actually use that whip on one of them? All of them? Ananda wrung her hands together. What the hell had she gotten herself into?
After the opening ran, the room stilled. Ananda scanned the other women. They, too, started to glance around the room. So where was the man-of-the-hour? Where was Eagan?
“What the hell is going on?” Iona asked from the side of her mouth.
Afraid to verbally answer this time, Ananda shrugged. Perhaps Ego was going through some stage fright. That would be funny. Or maybe the man just wasn’t there.
Ten minutes had gone by without so much as a word from anyone. What the hell kind of show was this? Ananda watched the women shifting from one side to the other. Even the shoes were getting to her feet, too. Without moving her neck, she peered up to see where the hidden cameras were stowed. One red light blinked in between some books in a massive bookcase across from her. Next to an Oriental vase, another red light flickered. She could only imagine the number of cameras in their
sleeping quarters.
“The perks of a live show, folks,” the host joked.
The host, Tony Artini, an aging child star who once starred on a show that had teenaged vampires, started the show by introducing himself. Ananda guessed this was his last chance at glory, too.
He talked to each woman. When one tried to say her name, she was quickly hushed by the host.
“Eagan Morton requested that no one reveal their names,” Tony said, then playfully put his index finger to the woman’s lips.
If he still didn’t carry that baby face, the move may have come off as sexy or alluring. As it was, it looked like a creepy younger brother trying to put the moves on his older sister’s friend.
He got toward the end of the line.
“And where are you from?” Tony, the host, shoved his microphone into Iona’s face.
“I’m from Mitchell, Nebraska.”
Thank goodness for the masks. Ananda blinked at the woman’s admission. She thought for sure Iona was from California or even Florida. Nebraska seemed too wholesome for her.
“Ah, a Midwesterner. Welcome to the show.” Tony patted her hand. “Anything you want to say before we start the show?”
“Only that I can’t wait to serve my Master.”
Ananda tried hard to hold back her snicker. It came out like a light sneeze.
“And last but certainly not least, where are you from?” Tony put the microphone under Ananda’s chin.
She took a step back. Considering she towered over the man, he should have felt grateful. Ananda opened her mouth to answer when someone caught her attention.
At the top of the stairs stood the man himself, Eagan Morton. Even though he was twenty minutes late, he acted as though he didn’t care. How in the world could the man be twenty minutes late when the show was taped in his house?
He strolled down the huge staircase taking five minutes, it seemed, for each step. As he descended, he stared at each woman. At the last step, his gaze fell on Ananda. His burning stare bore right through her body. However, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of cowering. She maintained her stare until he approached the group. It was only then that she noticed the bag in his hand, which he set on a circular table next to them.
Love My Way Page 5
