The Contract
(The Agency Series, Book Two)
By L.C. Lockwood
Copyright © 2013 L.C. Lockwood
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not be constructed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Cover photo © Sex Mode & Digestion vs Gary Alan Holzauer
Designed and Edited by L.C. Lockwood
Things were going pretty damn well. My agency was succeeding more than I had ever imagined, my bank account had enough to last me for five more lifetimes, and having Mason Cooper at my beck and call was exhilarating to say the least. The sex was incredible and the extra help around the office was welcome. The man definitely knew what he was doing both in and out of bed, and on my desk, and in the backseat of my car, and on the roof of the Dodger Stadium ticket booth (let’s just say we both hit home runs that day). Things were going so well in fact, that I was beginning to consider promoting Mason back to an agent. He knew what he was doing after all and my client list was starting to grow past even my own expectations. With him working as an official agent, taking on some of my clients, I’de be able to focus more attention on particular actors.
The loss of control over him was the only drawback to a promotion. I realized I was starting to become addicted to having him in the palm of my hand. I was never the type of girl who would be a submissive little kitten and sign some sort of contract agreeing to be beaten up for sex. But now I found that I was turning into the one who wanted to give the contract. I wanted to have him do what ever I pleased, when I pleased. So I figured, why the hell not? I was going to promote him eventually, but I was going to do it under my rules. There was also something else tickling the very back of my mind. Something that just wasn’t right. I needed to be 100% sure Mason was trustworthy before I gave him complete access to the actors I represented.
So the next best thing I could think of was to talk to Sharron, an old friend of mine who always knew just what to tell me. Sometimes she knew what to tell me even before I asked her about it. I swore she had some sore of psychic ability. It was a slow day so I decided to invite her over for some wine and cheese.
“Blair! I’ve missed you, my darling!” she said in her faux French accent. She spent a year over there traveling with her husband and swore that she was born with a baguette in her hands.
“Sharron, you look great! You lost wait, what are you 15 pounds now?” I said, poking at her ribs.
“Are you calling me fat?!” she falsely exclaimed as she brushed past me and into my foyer. I was in the midst of remodeling, so things were slightly out of order, but she still managed to find her way almost instantly to where I stored all my finest wines. She grabbed only the most aged white I had and led me out to my own backyard, which looked out over all of Los Angeles. I felt as though I the guest.
“You know I’m going to have to charge you for that. I’m not running a soup kitchen here.” I told her, grabbing the bottle from her hands and using my I Love Lucy wine-opener.
“Honey, if this were a soup kitchen, then call me homeless because I could have some wine and potatoes any day.”
“Not sure what potatoes have to do with anything but I’ll figure something out.” I said to her, pouring each of us a glass of wine. I took a sip of it and layed down on the hammock hung between my two palm trees. She took a seat over by my pool and looked dreamily out to the streets of Los Angeles. From our vantage point, you could see the huge amount of traffic building up on the 405 freeway. It was almost calming, watching people go about their lives. It gave me a sense of being.
“So… do you remember Mason Cooper?” I asked after a few minutes of enjoying the view.
“Of course! That extreme hunk of man-meat that turned out to be an uber douche-bag. You know I heard he did so much coke, he almost died.”
I hadn’t heard that one.
“Yeah well, he contacted me the other day. He’s… my assistant.” I said, hesitantly as I observed her reaction. Sharron always had a much better intuition when it came to guys. I was always the one in high school falling for the football player, thinking we were getting married while Sharron would tell me he was going to end up getting some chick pregnant. Sure enough there were two prom babies that year, both of them born in a bathroom stall and both of them his.
Except this time, she was unreadable.
“Honey, you’re confusing me as much as the Leaning Tower of Pisa did. I mean really, how could it lean like that? But back to you… you’re joking right? Mason called you so much crap all over the press. I mean people in France were talking about it.”
“Really? My name spread that far?” I asked, a little astounded that people across the globe were talking about me. I was also a little flattered.
“Of course, Blair. The beautiful billionaire heiress now turned agent was stealing other agents’ actors and sleeping with all of them? That’s just a Gossip Girl episode waiting to be written.”
“Ok first off, I’m not an heiress. My father was a sniveling asshole that left all his fortune to his illegitimate son, not to me. Also I think to become an official heiress you need to have a sex-tape these days”
“Yeah but you won it all back in a lawsuit didn’t you? And I’m sure there’s some sort of footage of you floating around,” She had a point. On the lawsuit thing, I actually wasn’t 100% sure if there was footage of me. I could only hope if there was that the lighting was at least flattering.
Back to my whole heiress issue, see, my father was the owner and creator of Parashout Pictures, a multi-billion dollar entertainment company that he sold off in his later years. When he died of a drug-overdose, I found out he left most of his fortune to someone named Eric Conway, a brother I never knew I had. When I reached out to him, he insisted that I didn’t deserve a single penny. This was around the same time I was opening up my agency and could have used the capital, so I did what any other American would do and I sued him. I won most of it back and sent a simple note to Eric saying “Fuck You.” I was the one that came away with daddy-issues, therefore I was the one that deserved the money. At the same time, my mother was undergoing her cancer treatments and we were both going into unmanageable debt. Luckily with the amount I gained from my worthless father, I was able to pay off all her medical treatments and buy her the house she always wanted right off of the Santa Monica pier. I also kick started Elite Society and bought some really nice shoes to top things off.
“Yes, I gained some money. But that’s not the point. Sharron, there’s just something about him.”
“Yeah, the fact that he looks like a, pardon my language, fucking sex god?” She always knew how to make her words sound like a classy soliloquy.
“Wow, France has refined you so much.”
“Ok listen. You worked for him before, had great sex, almost fell in love with him, which thankfully I was able to snap you out of, and now you want to start that cycle all over again? Why don’t you find a nice guy, whom you can actually keep an eye on and have a little control over?”
“That’s the thing, Sharron! I can control Mason! And I didn’t almost fall in love with him. Sure, I got a little mushy, but can you really blame me?”
“Yes.”
“Ok fine,” I replied, shooting her a poisonous glance, “but what’s so wrong with that anyway? Maybe he’d be good for me, relationship wise.”
“What makes you think that? His devilish good looks or his snake-like manipulation techniques? The guy’s no good. Plus, why is he working for you? Mason has some serious connections.”
Leave it to Sharron to always bring up the obvious, but purposefully overlooked, points. I always knew it was weird that he would decide to work for me, but part of me thought that he did it because he liked being controlled by me. Because he liked being around me. Possibly just because he liked me.
“Fine, but I don’t think you should promote him yet. Play with him first. Oh, oh! You know what I was reading the other day? 69 Shades of Aquamarine. Have you read it? Soo steamy! But anyway, darling, I was reading it and in the book there’s a striking man who takes control of this naïve little doll-faced woman. Well, long-story short, he writes up a contract for her, outlining all the hot, sexy stuff they do. It also made sure the guy always kept control. Why don’t you write one up for Mason?”
“That actually doesn’t sound like a bad idea. Good job, Sharron! I knew all that smut you read would pay off one day.”
I was already thinking up of some things I could write in the contract, things I wanted to incorporate into our already steamy sex. It could definitely be a fun idea and it would buy me some time to figure out what Mason was really about.
“Oh it’s paid off plenty of times. You should see all the new stuff I know now! Also it’s not smut. It’s just romance for an advance crowd.”
“Thanks, Sharron, maybe you can join me and Mason then? Show us some of your moves,” I said playfully, knowing she would never take the bait.
“No thanks, my love. I’m more of an Italian sausage gal myself. But thanks for the offer. We wouldn’t be true best friends without giving each other a shot at a threesome,” she said, giggling and taking another sip of her wine.
“You’re right on that one. Now let’s take a little, how do you say… siesta, I have a contract to write up later.”
Chapter 2
It was the next morning after Sharron’s wonderful contract idea. It didn’t take me long to whip something up and print it out, already excited at the new encounters this would bring. There was already a certain dynamic between Mason and I, but with the contract, that dynamic would be solidified. It would also help me figure out Mason a little better. If he didn’t decide to sign it, then maybe Mason wasn’t as committed as I hoped, but if he did, well then maybe there was possibility for a future.
“Hey Mason, yeah listen can you meet me at that little coffee shop in Los Feliz? I want to talk to you about something?” I said to him over the speakerphone in my shiny new BMW. I threw a glance over at my Louis Vuitton purse that held the all-important document.
“Fucking shit! Get out of my way! Ugh, no not you Mason, unless you were the one driving that damn Escalade that almost knocked me off the road. Anyways, yeah meet me there. Oh and put all my meetings for this afternoon on hold, I have plans.” He agreed and hung up. He had no idea just what my plans were, but they were definitely going to be fun. It was always fun when Mason was around.
In fact, Mason was around a lot more often these days. And not just for work purposes either. And on top of that, I wasn’t sure if it was the mind-blowing sex or the fact that Mason was incredibly good at weaseling out of situations, but I was already forgiving him for the badmouthing and shit-talking he had done during our fall-out. It’s not like his slandering had devastated me. My agency actually did better with the publicity. Of course, there was a tiny, miniscule part of me that was hurt by being called a “cock- gobbling slut in a monkey suit” but I bottled those emotions away like I was used to doing. I didn’t want to explore those feelings any further, especially because I wasn’t sure if I was hurt by the names or by the fact that it is was Mason calling me those names. I was always able to separate sex from romance, but I was also human and lines weren’t always clear. Especially lately where there just didn’t seem to be any lines at all.
Regardless of my emotional conundrum, I still liked hanging out with Mason. And so I did, pretty often. Obviously I saw him on a daily basis, him being my assistant required a line of constant communication. Between scheduling a ton of meetings and fucking me senseless, I was shocked he even had time to eat. But at the end of the day, Mason was incredible at doing both.
And so there I was, at my favorite little coffee shop waiting for Mr. Cooper. I had on a plain white-tee with a plunging V-neck that showed off a very good bit of skin. Over it I was wearing a small, black leather jacket that complimented my dark gray shorts. I fit in pretty well with the hipster crowd that filled the room, working away at their various screenplays and webisodes and stand-up routines. I looked around as I waited for Mason, taking in the life that filled Hollywood. I absolutely thrived on the creative energies flowing through this town.
I didn’t have to wait long for Mason to arrive. His blue and white plaid button-down shirt seemed to barely contain the strength his muscles exuded as he walked over to me, commanding attention from everyone in the room. It was clear just how much confidence Mason had in himself, as he pulled out his chair and threw me a mischievous smile. There was something else in the air as well. It was almost a dangerous element, something I was feeling more and more often around Mason. I hadn’t put too much thought into it, but lately something was telling me I should.
“How’s your day been?” I asked him, connecting with the deep blue pools that he called eyes.
“Eh, it just got a lot better now,” he said, licking his lip just the slightest bit. He was almost predatory today.
“Well hold on to your horses. I could have told you to come here so that I can fire you.”
“Fire me? But I’ve been getting your coffee orders exactly how you like them. Only five grains of sugar and imported straight from the mountains of New Guinea.” He joked, a smile flashing his perfect teeth.
“I counted six grains of sugar yesterday. I’m sorry but I can’t have that.”
“I’m so sorry, how will I ever be able to repay you?” he said, his left leg brushing up against the bare skin on mine. The connection sent small electric shocks up through my thighs. Stay focused, girl. You haven’t even shown him the contract yet.
“I could come up with a few different ways. But I think I’ll let this one slide for now. Thankfully I didn’t die of a sugar overdose so there’s that to look forward to. In all seriousness though, I came here to talk about your position at Elite Society. You’ve been great in more ways than one. Your service has been exemplary and you’ve gone over and beyond what I’ve asked of you. Also, your extra-curricular work has been pretty earth shattering,” I said, letting a grin creep up my face.
“Thanks, you have been working me pretty… raw after all.” His voice was dripping with a sexual energy that immediately sent a flush of red throughout my body.
“Well, I think it’s time to give you a raise,” I replied, climbing my foot up his calf and resting it on his chair, between his strong thighs. The double meaning in my words was extremely obvious as I felt his body tense and his thighs no doubt pressing against his growing erection. I could feel the heat radiating out from the center, his eyes lighting up with not only joy but also a hunger.
“There’s just something I want you to sign first. Then after a few more months under this new arrangement, I’ll see if I promote you.”
“Sign? I’ll sign away my first born so that I could work alongside you, as an equal. But a few months? Blair, I need to start being a legitimate agent now. Please, give me the chance.”
The pleading eagerness in his tone was sending a rush through me. Everyone in that coffee shop was disappearing around me as I just began to focus on the growing wetness underneath me and the perfect man before me, practically begging me to give him what he needed.
“Oh babe, let’s not get ahead of ourselves here. No
one said you’d be my equal. And this… contract, will make sure of that.”
His look grew a little more confused as I reached into my bag and pulled out some papers, sliding them across the table. I watched his every reaction as he picked it up and read over the contract.
WHEREAS, Ms. Stone (hereinafter “Master”) and Mr. Cooper (hereinafter
“Submissive”) wish to engage in consensual activity most likely of a sexual nature amongst and between themselves (Master and Submissive collectively, hereinafter referred to as the “Parties”),
WHEREAS, the Master wishes to initiate sexual advances in any area, whether it be public or private, the Submissive must consent and perform willingly and eagerly.
WHEREAS, Master wishes to continue to remain in the public eye without
additional scandal and damage to her character, class and persona, whilst continuing to engage in behavior that presents risks to her character, class and persona,
NOW, THEREFORE, the Parties wish to summarize their understandings in this
agreement as follows:
1. Submissive agrees to not to divulge any Bedroom Secret(s), meaning the whole or any portion of any unusual ability, technique, improvement upon established technique, procedure or position that may be part of Master’s repertoire of methods for bringing, or attempting to bring, Submissive to climax. A Bedroom Secret is not limited to a bedroom and may include bathrooms, restaurant kitchens, limousines and private mansions.
The Contract (Billionaire Erotic Romance) (The Agency) Page 1
