[Enthrall Sessions 01.0] Enthrall

by Vanessa Fewings

  Maybe I should have taken that job in Best Buy, though the pay wouldn’t have come close to what Enthrall paid. It was exciting to hang out with Richard, even if he did seem overly confident. It was his worldliness, his charisma, that made him fun to be around. And he’d just spanked me in the playroom I was banned from, rounding out my education into his lifestyle.

  My legs weakened and I wondered if I’d ever be able to tell Bailey.

  Within a minute or two we’d made it to the front door of my ground floor apartment, and I made a mental run through of how I’d left the place. Tidy, as far as I could remember.

  “Next time choose a second floor apartment,” he said. “It’s safer.” He frowned towards my left neighbor’s front door; gunshots from a television poured into the courtyard.

  We stepped inside my place and the noise dimmed.

  “This is a studio.” His horrified stare roamed the bedroom, sweeping over to the bathroom door.

  “Yes.” I strolled over to the kitchen, wondering how long he was thinking of staying and hating the idea of him judging me.

  “I thought we were paying you well?”

  “You are.”

  “Do you have tea?” he said. “Caffeine free?”

  “I can make you coffee.”

  He looked amused. “Thought you didn’t have any?”

  Didn’t he know the I have no coffee code?

  He followed. “Is it decaf?”

  “No.” I opened a cupboard and reached for the Nescafe jar.

  “Oh, instant. Yum.” He stared at it. “Just water for me then.” He leaned back against the counter.

  With a twist of the tap I poured him a glass of water from the faucet.

  “You haven’t lived in L.A. long have you?” he said.

  “How do you know?” I offered him the glass.

  With a wave, he declined it. “You can’t drink the tap water here.”

  “Why?”

  “Tastes nasty. Amongst other things. Do you have any bottled water?” He widened his gaze. “Not that that’s any safer.”

  “How do mean?”

  “The plastic’s absorbed into the water.” He shrugged, and his steady gaze studied my fridge. “How old is that thing?”

  “My best friend gave it to me.”

  He opened the freezer door, reached in, and removed one of the low fat meals.

  “Would you like one?” I said.

  He shoved it back. “It would certainly serve as a reasonable punishment for what happened to you tonight.”

  “Oh.”

  “Why are you eating low fat? You’re tiny.”

  “Kind of grabbed them quickly.”

  “You live here alone? Do you have a boyfriend?”

  “I live alone. No boyfriend.”

  “Hence being a virgin.”

  I blushed. “Are you married?”

  He hesitated before answering. “No.”

  “Do you live with someone?”

  “Yes. Winston.”

  And yet Mistress Scarlet had told me Richard wasn’t gay. Maybe Winston was his son.

  “He’s British and quite dashing.” Richard gave a roguish smile. “I am of course biased.”

  Richard had managed to keep this secret from the girls.

  “He’s a British Bulldog,” he said.

  “You don’t bring him to work?” I tried to save my embarrassment from Richard’s all-seeing stare.

  “Sometimes. But he loves the garden.” He neared me and took the glass of water out of my hand, tipping it down the sink. “I’m worried you’ll drink it.”

  Something past between us and it caused a wave of giddiness.

  “Listen, Mia,” he began, his tone soft and coaxing. “Tonight was a dreadful mistake and I can’t apologize more.”

  “Already forgotten.”

  “I’d like to offer you two weeks pay—”

  “You can’t fire me now.” I panicked. “I’m fine, really. Please Richard, I love working at Enthrall and I get on great with all the staff.”

  “And they all adore you, Mia. Only…”

  “I have to pee,” I said, and scurried off to the restroom.

  Inside, I stared at my reflection, trying to come up with the words I needed to persuade him not to fire me. I reached for my brush and ran it through my knotted hair, trying to ease out the windblown clumps. Richard’s open top adventure had left its mark.

  That was the word, adventure. Yes, these people had a funny way of living and working, but it certainly beat the day to day drudgery of being a Wal-Mart employee, which was where I might be headed if I couldn’t convince Richard tonight had no effect on me.

  It was strange, in that dungeon he’d acted so masterful, kind of pissed off actually, but in my apartment he seemed so normal. So regular. Well, as regular as a hot guy oozing enough sexual energy to power a major city can be. Caressing my lips with a fingertip, my mind wandered, taking me back to that blood red room and Richard’s touch…down there. I pushed thoughts of his slaps away and focused on how he’d stirred pleasure. It would be easy to get used to that kind of attention. Addicted to it in fact.

  Obsessed.

  If I trespassed into that dungeon again would I be treated to the same punishment? The temptation to stray once more into that dark, red room was seductive.

  Wanting to look pretty for Richard, I applied a quick touch-up of lipstick and a dab of mascara and felt ready to face him again. Halfway out of the restroom I realized I hadn’t flushed the toilet, having not actually gone. I had two choices: hope Richard hadn’t noticed or go back in and risk looking odd.

  From here, I could see Richard holding a piece of paper. He had in his hand one of the bills I’d left on the counter.

  A look of worry flashed over his face. “Mia, are you sick?”

  “No.” I walked over and snatched it from him. “This is personal.”

  “This medical bill is for twenty-five thousand dollars.”

  “My step-mom’s not well,” I said. “She lost her job along with her medical insurance.”

  “I’m sorry.” He glanced back at the stack of bills.

  “That’s why I need this job,” I said. “The billing department have threatened to cut off her medicine if I don’t pay them.”

  “Why are you paying this? Where’s your father?”

  “He died in a motorcycle accident. Lorraine took me in soon after. She’s an actress.”

  “You mean waitress?” he said, unaffected. “Let me guess, Denny’s?”

  “That’s not very nice.”

  “Well I imagine SAG would have covered this.” He glanced at the bill. “I’m sorry, Mia. I had no idea.”

  “So you can’t fire me,” I said. “Tell me you won’t.”

  “Do you want to be an actress?”

  “No.” I put the bill back with the others.

  “That’s lucky for you. Your nervous rash would have its own SAG card.” He laughed at his joke. “Do I really make you nervous?”

  I slid the bills out of his line of sight.

  “I don’t mean to.”

  “Then don’t be so…”

  “My therapist tells me it’s all part of my death wish.” His face fell. “Still, at least no one would be left grieving.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “If everyone loathes you they’ll be glad you’re gone.”

  That didn’t make any sense. “The girls think highly of you.”

  “I’m sure they’d like being referred to as ‘the girls’.”

  “Anyway, they seem more scared of Cameron.”

  “Most people are.”

  Hoping he’d say more, I tried to read his face.

  He scanned the room.

  “What’s your place like?” I said.

  “Bigger.” His gaze settled on my bed in the corner.

  Bailey had told me to buy a room divider and right now I wished I had.

  He looked over at my television. “You need a flat scr
een.”

  “It was a gift.”

  “Bailey?”

  “Yes.”

  “Awkward bringing boys here.”

  I chewed my lip. “Do you have a girlfriend?”

  “Why?”

  “Just wondering.”

  “Not right now, no.” He tilted his head. “So, this Bailey?”

  “She’s gay but we’re just friends. I mean we don’t…you know.”

  He rolled his eyes in feigned shock. “Have sex?”

  I twisted my mouth to hide my frown.

  He gave a shake of his head. “Poor Bailey.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “She gave you a fridge and a TV and you still have no idea how much she’s in love with you.”

  “We’re not like that.”

  “Bit defensive.”

  “We’re not. We’ve known each other since fifth grade.”

  “Oh well then, she can’t possibly want to sleep with you.”

  “She’s has integrity.” I held my head high.

  “Those two things aren’t mutually exclusive.” He folded his arms. “I’m only like this with friends I care about.” He arched an eyebrow, seemingly surprised with his admission. “I imagine all your friends are smitten. You’re quite the prize. But you don’t think that do you?”

  “Why are you here?”

  “We need to talk about what’s lurking in your fridge.” He leaned back against the counter. “Or we can choose to discuss something a little less scary.”

  My chest constricted and I broke his gaze.

  “Thursday evening, when you came into my office with Cameron and asked, if we can call it that, for your job back.”

  I blinked up at him, nervous of where he might take this.

  “To be honest, your brave move had Cameron and I both convinced you were sexually experienced before ever working at Enthrall.” He paused. “I know this is difficult for you, but it’s important we get this out of the way. May I go on?”

  I gave a nod, my voice evading me.

  “During the time you showed yourself to me, Cameron first asked your permission to touch you. Do you remember?”

  “Yes.”

  “You understood what he was asking you?

  “Yes.”

  His frown lifted. “He also asked if you wanted him to stop. Remember that?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why didn’t you tell him to stop?”

  “I didn’t want him to.” My words came out faint, nervous.

  “You liked it?”

  “Yes,” I muttered.

  “It was a highly charged sexual experience. Do you regret it?”

  I blushed. “No.”

  He looked pleasantly surprised. “The thing is Mia, the brain’s sexuality is wired in a certain way. A delicate way. The majority of people never get to explore, or want to, what it is we do at Enthrall. It’s an unusual lifestyle choice, but one—” He paused. “It’s a very mature and well thought out decision only a well adjusted and—”

  “I understand,” I said. “You’re trying to say that environment might not be good for me.”

  “Or worse. I’d never forgive myself if this experience caused you distress. You are my concern.” He shrugged. “Just because a few of us choose to live life in a decadent fashion…” He looked for words again. “You don’t strike me as someone who’d normally do something like that. And I’m sorry you felt the need to.”

  I suspected what Richard’s next words were and my heart sank.

  “Would you like to comment on anything I’ve said?” he asked.

  My gaze made a passing sweep of the bills. “Tara’s seen your dungeon too.”

  A look of confusion passed over him. “You know Tara?” Richard blinked. “That’s how you knew about the job.” Another revelation swept over him. “Tara set you up to perform in my office? It wasn’t your idea was it?” He caressed his forehead.

  “The music was my idea.”

  He gave a kind smile. “Are you sure you want to be around people like us?”

  “More than anything.”

  He shoved his hands into his pockets and his gaze lingered upon me. “How would you like to be my executive assistant? It’ll entail pretty much what you’re doing now. Of course the new position comes with a pay rise.”

  “Richard, I don’t need your charity. I’m more than capable of taking care of myself and those.” I pointed to the stack of bills.

  “I don’t doubt it.”

  “You were going to fire me weren’t you?”

  “I can’t remember now. Listen, if you ever want to leave, if you’re ever uncomfortable with anything you see or hear, you must come to me and we’ll discuss it. Understand?”

  I gave a nod. “That thing you told me in the dungeon about Cameron wanting to see me burn?”

  “I was angry with him for taking you down there. I wanted to be the one to do it when I deemed you ready. Just show you around. Nothing kinky. Cameron’s always trying to save someone. His methods are a little dark I’ll admit, but so is our lifestyle.” He reached into his pocket and removed his BlackBerry. “Talk of the devil. He wants to meet me for a drink.” Richard texted Cameron back.

  Taking advantage of having him distracted, I studied his sticking up blond locks and the way he chewed his lip when deep in thought, and that dreamy way his eyes crinkled into a smile.

  He looked up. “Cameron wants to know if I’ve damaged you.”

  “What did you tell him?”

  “To mind his own business. Of which he has plenty.” Richard tucked his phone away. “Mia, would you do something for me?”

  I held my frown.

  “If Cameron so much as looks at you,” he said. “If he talks to you, if he breathes in the same room as you, text me immediately.”

  I gave a nod, actually grateful Richard was doing something right for a change.

  “I have to go.” He fished out his phone again and read a text.

  “How am I going to face him again?”

  “Well you faced me,” he said. “And I did a lot worse to you.”

  “But you’re not him.”

  Richard’s gaze left his BlackBerry and shot up to meet mine.

  CHAPTER 10

  CROSSED LEGGED, I SAT on the floor in front of my TV.

  The remote was playing up again and I opened the back of the controller and tried my trick of removing the batteries and putting them back in. I pushed the button and nothing happened. “Grrrr.”

  The doorbell rang.

  Easing the blinds back and peeking out the side of the front window, I almost stopped breathing permanently when I saw Cameron. It was too late to pretend to be out. He’d seen me. Dressed in my PJs, I was hardly ready for company. What the hell was he doing here?

  Seriously, couldn’t he have called first?

  I opened the door. “Hi.”

  “Hey Mia.” He gave the biggest smile. “You don’t answer your phone?”

  “Didn’t hear it.” I glanced down at the Saks Fifth Avenue paper bag in his hand. There was another bag behind that one.

  Cameron eased past me and came in, uninvited. I waited for him to react like Richard had when he realized I lived in a studio.

  He didn’t. “How are you?” he said.

  “Everything all right?” I made it polite, despite still being annoyed with him for tricking me into that dungeon. That kiss. He’d played with me like a pet. I couldn’t understand why he was here.

  As though sensing my nervousness he stepped back, putting some distance between us. Richard wanted me to contact him next time Cameron spoke to me, yet I wondered how I’d make that call with him right in front of me. Richard wouldn’t be happy about him being in my apartment, I knew that.

  Cameron’s gaze rested on my sketch pad on the floor. He made his way toward it. “These are good, Mia.” He looked up at me. “You drew these?”

  I gathered them up. “Just playing around with a few ideas.”


  He watched me like a hawk as I hid them behind a pillow. I’d never shown anyone my artwork, not even Bailey. These fashion designs still needed a lot of work and I didn’t feel confident to show them to anyone yet.

  “Are you an aspiring fashion designer?” said Cameron.

  “Can I get you a drink?”

  “No, thank you.” He stared in horror at the kitchen counter “What the hell is that?”

  “What?”

  “That.” He strolled over and picked up my Pot Noodle.

  “It’s my dinner.”

  “Not on my watch.” He flipped open the trash bin with his foot and dramatically threw it in.

  “Hey!”

  “How often are you eating like that?”

  “Um…every night, kind of.”

  “I feel like I’ve just stepped into a William Burroughs’ novel.”

  “A what?”

  “Naked Lunch,” he said and on my reaction added, “It’s a book. Adapted for film.” He waved his hand as though bored with explaining.

  “Why are you here?”

  “We have a VIP client who arrived in from Sicily earlier today.” Cameron shook his head in frustration. “Senator Marcello DeLuca.”

  I tried to work out why he’d want to share this with me.

  “Richard’s not answering his phone either,” he said.

  “I’ll text him.” I made my way across the room and reached into my bag.

  Cameron took my phone out of my hand. “He’s probably busy.”

  “He won’t mind.” I reached for it.

  He hid it behind his back. “I have a present for you.” He raised the bags with his other hand.

  Annoyed he thought I’d be distracted with shopping bags, I reached for my phone again and caught sight of the Manolo Blahniks insignia on the other one.

  “These are for you,” he said.

  “Me?” I stepped back.

  “How would you like to earn some overtime?”

  “I can’t tonight, sorry.”

  “I’ll make it double time.” He frowned at my PJs. “Like you have other plans.” He tucked my phone back into my handbag. “Come to dinner. Help me entertain the Senator.”

  “Have you tried Scarlet?”

  “She’s in Vegas.”

  “Lotte?”

  “My client’s conservative.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Lotte’s not his type.”