He smiled and patted the couch. “Come on, okay?”
She shrugged and sat down, still irritated that he’d denied her.
He pulled her into his body; she fought him then relaxed into his shoulder. He was warm and strong, and felt good. She shifted to get comfortable. “Ouch.”
“Sore?” He rubbed her arm.
“Uh, not there,” she said.
He laughed. “Just let it burn in for a bit. I want you to feel that punishment a little longer before I soothe you.”
“Burn being the operative word,” she said. “I feel like I should spank you, so you get to feel the burn this afternoon, too.”
“Not a chance,” he said immediately. Then he said, his voice lower, “But I promise that I’ll be thinking of you every single fucking second for the rest of this day, and waiting for the next time we’re together, when I finish what we started here. I’ll think about how I turned your ass pink, then red, and how you squirmed and cried out, and let me do it. How you got so wet for me and how you begged me for release. And how good I’ll make it for you once I say yes.”
“But I don’t want to wait,” she complained. “I want to come right now. You do too,” she accused, wiggling on his lap. “I can feel it. I want to fuck you.”
“But you don’t get to,” he reminded her, with a smug smile. “So you need to make the best of it. Take that thwarted passion and pour it into your work this afternoon. Let it flow out of you in your words and actions on stage, that unfulfilled desire. I promise, the audience will love you all the more for it.”
“So you’re just doing this for the play?” Pissed, she pushed back, adjusted her body, and sat up. “It’s all a kinky game just to get better acting out of me?”
He looked away quickly, and a muscle clenched in his jaw. Then he looked at her and touched her face, smiled. “If it wasn’t the play, you could use that energy to kick ass on a work project, or anything you like. You have no idea how much you can get done with a little extra passion to burn off. It’s like a shot of adrenaline. You’ll see.”
“But I don’t…” She couldn’t put her thoughts into words. She was still turned on. She was also irritated and frustrated with him. “I don’t think you should get to unilaterally make decisions about my orgasm status.”
He laughed. “But you gave me that power, so I’m exercising it. I won’t make you wait like this all the time, Cleo. But I might, sometimes, and knowing that is going to make you more submissive. Knowing that your orgasm depends on your obedience? Imagine how good you’ll be for me. And that will make our passion even more powerful. Each orgasm you get will be so much more amazing and fulfilling, when you know that it might not have happened at all. Delayed gratification can lead to explosive sensation.”
She glared at him and winced. “Ouch.”
He smoothly turned, grabbed her, and lifted her onto his lap. “Want me to massage you to take away some of the sting?”
Without waiting for an answer, he turned her over his lap with the expert maneuver of a Kung Fu master. He softly stroked her skin, the barest of touches, and she flinched, then relaxed into his touch.
“That feels good,” she murmured, closing her eyes. She still had that almost-ready-for-an-orgasm feeling in her core.
“I know that hurt in the moment,” he said, rubbing her thighs with both hands, “but it’s going to fade fast.”
He reached to the side table and pulled over the tube of lotion. She heard it snap, then felt a cool sensation as he rubbed some of the emollient into her heated skin. “This has aloe and arnica and it will soothe the sting,” he said.
She didn’t answer, but gave a big sigh and loosened her body over his thighs, enjoying the feeling of his hands rubbing her skin. The glaring pain was gone; all that was left was a nice erotic burn that reminded her of spanking, submission, his stern look… and sex. Fuck, she wanted sex. Right now, too. She made a slight noise and moved on his lap.
“Axel?”
He must have heard the need in her voice. “Not now, Cleo. Don’t ask again, or next time I’ll automatically give you ten extras with the brush. Understand? Tell me yes.”
She knew the whole thing was a game, so why was she so pissed and turned on at the same time?
“Yes,” she muttered, feeling angry for playing along, even though playing along made her very, very hot and aroused.
“Sometimes,” he added, his voice low and firm, “I’m going to spank you and not let you come right away. You’re going to accept that, and you’re not going to complain about it. Tell me yes.”
“Yes.” She was going to die if he didn’t fuck her right now! But she had to wait, and it was killing her.
This was a strange thing, this dom/sub thing they had going on. She wasn’t sure she totally understood what they were doing. She supposed they were just trying things out. Well, later on, he’d better try out fucking her and giving her some massive orgasms, or she’d have a few things to say.
* * *
The afternoon went by in a blur of activity. She didn’t think she’d be able to focus on the play at all, figuring the spanking and almost-orgasm would make it far harder to concentrate. To her surprise, though, she was able to take her pent-up energy and throw it into the play. Doing the scene over Martin’s lap as Anna, she felt nearly the same emotions as over Axel’s lap, and after the practice was over, the cast applauded. Even Chelsea’s face showed grudging admiration, albeit with a scowl. It seemed that the better Cleo got at the role, the more pissed it made Chelsea.
Not wanting to think about Chelsea’s pinched features and sour attitude, she rushed to hug Laska. She felt like she was flying across the room, her feet barely skimming the floor. She was nearly giddy with the joy of doing a great job and being recognized for it.
“Cleo! That was literally unbelievable.” Laska threw her arms around Cleo. “I mean, you were real. It was real. I honestly felt like you and Martin were real, you know?”
“Thanks!” Cleo could feel her smile radiating out, rays from a setting sun. “I figured it out, Laska. I learned the secret to unlock the part and now it’s mine and I’m never giving it up.”
“Good. You keep that, Cleo. You’re getting better and better. It’s almost magical. Every time you go on stage, I see the improvement.”
Cleo’s smile faded. “So you mean I’m that bad, that you can see me get better?”
“No! God, no, Cleo, not that at all.” Laska grabbed her hand. “You’re good. Come on, you know that. Please. What I mean is that every time you do the part, you add something new to it. It’s impressive.”
“Okay.” Mollified, Cleo smiled again. “Sorry to be insecure. I’m not insecure, except when I sometimes am.”
“Ugh, you actors. Balls of stress and ego,” joked Laska.
“Ugh, you set designers. Full of paint in your hair and dust on your face,” retorted Cleo. She picked up a stand of Laska’s hair, matted into a stiff quill at the end with dried brown paint, and dropped it.
“Shut it.” Laska raised her eyebrows for a second. “Everyone’s coloring their hair these days. In fact, to be different, you have to not do something shitty with pink and gray and purple. At least I did brown, right, to match my original color? I’m being ironic.”
“Oh, that’s awesome,” applauded Cleo. “Let’s call Alanis Morissette right now and see if she has time to work you into a new song.”
“Whatevs.” Laska scoffed. “You’re so silly.”
“Me?” Cleo giggled.
“I’m not on call tonight. And Derek is working nights in Cardiac this week.” Her voice turned glum at the mention of her husband, and she wrinkled her lip in irritation, but then perked up. “Want to grab dinner and watch Ice Pilots on Netflix?”
“Um, I’m not… sure.” Cleo snuck a glance over her shoulder, but didn’t see Axel anywhere.
“Aha.”
“There’s no aha.”
“Yes, there is. You looked. I asked you to hang out, and you checked for a b
etter offer. It’s okay. I’m not offended. Tell his penis I said hi.” She put her two fists on top of each other and twisted, and spoke into the top fist in a high, feminine voice. “Hi, Axel! It’s so good to taste you again.”
“Laska!” Cleo screamed out a small burst of laughter. “You’re so bad. I don’t—I’m sorry. I just, I don’t know if he and I have plans?” She bit her lip. “We sort of do, but I’m not positive.” She looked around again, but still didn’t see him. “Did he go to his office?”
Laska shook her head, a cautious look on her face. “I don’t know.”
Cleo bit her fingernail and sighed. “It’s complicated.”
“So I see.” Laska nodded slightly.
“I mean, do you need me? If you need to talk, I’m there.”
“No, you can go chase that piece of ass you call boss. I’ll be fine. We can get together later.”
Cleo searched Laska’s face, then nodded. “I think I’ll just go check his office. I love you, you know that? How about we get together tomorrow for Mikey and the DC3s and the C46s and some Thai?”
“You’ve got a deal.” Laska rubbed a spot of dirt on her shirt. “Okay, I gotta go get some things moved around and then I’m taking off. Talk to you later, girlie.”
“Later.”
Cleo waved to Martin and a few others, feeling very conspicuous as she walked away from the exit and back to the office space.
His door was closed when she arrived, and she wasn’t sure if she should knock or not. Based on what had happened earlier on his desk, part of her felt like she owned that fucking office and had the right to not only enter, but also to hold a mud wrestling event in there, if she so desired. But another part of her, the one that felt a small trickle of icy doubt along her spine, hesitated. In the end she knocked softly, then opened the door while she called out, “Axel?”
When she peered inside, he was sitting with his back to her in his rolling chair, phone to his ear.
“No, I didn’t say that. You know me better than that.” His voice was low.
Cleo jumped when she smelled a floral scent. To her surprise, Chelsea stood beside her, a smug smile on her face. “Guess you have to wait like the rest of us,” she whispered.
Cleo didn’t answer. So far it seemed like Axel hadn’t noticed them in the doorway, and her unease grew exponentially. Standing here beside Chelsea, both of them hovering at the threshold, made it seem like she was equal to Chelsea in lack of power and importance in Axel’s life. Come on, she’d been naked on his desk—that very desk—just hours ago! Surely she had rights here?
Still, she was a member of the cast, bound by the contract she’d signed, and unofficially yet ethically obligated to keep their relationship quiet, not to flaunt it, to avoid misunderstanding and bad feeling among the crew. Plus, he was on the phone, and it was clearly personal. So she stood there, feeling more and more awkward and irritated, waiting alongside her frenemy.
“Lo, I remember that very well.” He gave a laugh. “Listen, if you come to town tonight—” He broke off at Chelsea’s small cough, swiveled abruptly. “Hang on.”
“Can I help you?” His voice went up on the last part, but the emphasis he gave the words indicated a distinct lack of welcome, as did his frown. “Ladies, I’ll need five minutes. Please wait by the stage, okay?” He raised an eyebrow, then turned his back on them again and directed his attention to the phone. “Look, you were the one who…”
Chelsea pulled the door shut, and Cleo tried to swallow her horrible embarrassment as the two of them walked without speaking to the auditorium.
Cleo rubbed her eye and picked up her backpack. “You know, I’m just going to get going. I’ll catch him later. See you.”
“Good idea,” said Chelsea, her voice smooth. She sat on the stairs leading up to the stage, and crossed her legs. “I’ll stay.” She smirked.
Cleo hadn’t meant to respond at all, but startled, she fumbled with her backpack strap and the pack slid to the floor. “Fuck,” she cursed, picking it up.
Chelsea went on. “Lo is his ex. Alyssia.” She smiled. “Hope that doesn’t make you too sad to keep up your stamina and emotion for the play.” She tilted her head and made her eyes wide. “Because that would so suck, you know? I mean, I know you have a hard time controlling your temper and all.” She smiled and bobbed her top leg, then reached into her purse for a lip gloss. “Oh, I love this stuff! Have you tried the new Mac gloss? The. Very. Best.” She applied it with an expert hand, no mirror needed.
“Chelsea, you’re—” Cleo took a deep breath. A cunt? A terrible person? A sad, pathetic bitch who deserves to get smashed like a roach by a dirty Chicago garbage truck with dog shit on its wheels? A stupid beeotch who’s about to get a fist sandwich? Who, surprisingly, looks better with the horrible old lipstick than her modern upgrade? “Way out of line, and you know what? Your attitude isn’t helping you. Why don’t you think about who’s lead and who’s… not.”
She allowed some of her anger to seep into her words. “It takes more than stamina to get and maintain a lead in a play like this. I’d encourage you to work on improving your own abilities instead of criticizing those of others.” She strode down the sloped, red-carpeted path to the back double doors, then turned and shot back over her shoulder, her words still and cold, “Have a wonderful evening.”
“Oh, I will,” Chelsea called back, her voice honey sweet, phony as all hell. “I’ll say bye to Axel for you.”
“Whatever,” muttered Cleo. She knew that Axel had zero interest in Chelsea, and the woman was only trying to get under her skin. Well, mission accomplished. It felt like there were a hundred thousand squirming little Chelsea viruses under her epidermis right now. Maybe this was what it felt like to be so strung out on drugs that you thought bugs were crawling out of your pores.
She gave a short, humorless bark of laughter to herself as she exited the dim theater into the bustle of the crowded downtown street. Immediately assaulted by taxi horns from several directions, the smell of exhaust, and scattered patches of sunshine that made their way between the tall buildings, she merged into the flow of people, letting the crowd carry her to the el stop, fuming the entire way, the walk doing nothing to dissipate her irritation.
When a businessman bumped his leather laptop case into her butt, she snarled at him. “Watch out!” evoking a “sorry,” given in a tone of voice that indicated he was not, in fact, sorry, and would probably like to toss her into the river. “Fuck you too,” she whispered, not willing to prolong the encounter, but needing to dissipate some of her unhappiness.
Having the laptop bump her posterior reminded her of the spanking from Axel, and made her focus on the slight tingle that was left there. If she was in a pleasant mood it would be sexy to think about him and be reminded of their tryst; however, given her current foul disposition, the whisper of soreness just made her mad. What the fuck—he thought he could just spank her into sexy submission, deny her an orgasm, and then blow her off and make her feel equal to Chelsea Bitch Fucking Cramer? Well, you know what? Next time he wanted to mess around? Maybe she’d say no.
She wiped her eye as she made her way up the flat, low stairs to the el, marveling, as always, at the numerous black splotches of old gum, avoiding the puddle in the topmost step. It hadn’t rained in days, yet that worn in dip was always full—so you knew it was probably a good idea to avoid any shoe contact.
* * *
That evening, she read a book and waited for Axel to call. Surely he would, right? After all, he’d spanked her in his office, and then talked about delayed gratification and explosive orgasms. He was going to call and apologize for whatever, and then they’d get together, and it would be phenomenal. Better than ever.
But as the hours went by and her phone stayed silent, her heart sank, and her mood with it. She tried to remind herself: Things came up all the time. He wasn’t with his ex, who might be in town this very minute. He was just busy, he got caught up in life.
But mo
re unpleasant thoughts came to remind her of other things. To her, their encounter today had been mind-altering and she was dying for his body. Maybe for him it was a pleasant dominant episode, but the kind of thing he could put out of his mind if something else came up.
And, the most critical one of all: He wasn’t available for anything more than directing and an easy-come, easy-go fling; he’d been completely honest about it, and she needed to just grow up and deal.
Still, later that night, trying to fall asleep, she felt tears prick her eyelids, thinking about his dismissive tone back at the office compared to the passion they’d shared earlier. It just seemed so wrong, unnatural, that one minute they could be so intimate; the next, like strangers.
Chapter Fourteen
“Everyone, let’s go out there and kill it!” Martin was exuberant as he exhorted the cast. Not yet into his part, although dressed for it, he looked like a kid in a Halloween costume, Cleo thought. A butterfly that had emerged too soon from the cocoon. But she knew, based on the quality of their rehearsals, that once he got onto the stage, he’d become Aaron, just as she’d turn into Anna.
She adjusted the waist of her skirt and the smooth pad protecting her butt from Martin’s hand. The number one question she got from audience members during the Q&A after the show was: “Does it hurt?” and “Is he really hitting you?” She had shown them the thick pad, which resembled the foam that some swim pool toys were made of, and explained that it made a good noise but protected her from the impact.
Axel was nearby, observing. He’d already given his speech and now he was standing back, letting them take over. Cleo was too busy preparing to think about him and their own issues, now was the time for her to delve into her role and wow the audience.
She pushed back her emotions to allow Anna’s to surface, letting the character emerge. To do it, she sat alone on a chair, her face in her hands, rocking just a little, blanking out her mind and letting Anna trickle into the edges of her consciousness. It was like waiting for a pot to boil or for an egg to hatch, but it was more momentous than either of those. For her, getting into her role wasn’t like a simple off-on switch, and the closer they got to the real play, the longer it took for her to fully immerse. Finally it happened and she stood up and took a breath: She was ready.
His Firm Direction Page 16
