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Authors: Harriet Lovelace
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grip still
strong, but his touch and caresses soft. We had burned ourselves out during the
earlier power play and were giving in to the simple feel of our bodies
together. On the floor of the trailer, under the slow rocking of Scott inside
me, my body gave out in a silent shudder. Begging him to be careful, that every
part of me felt hypersensitive, Scott assured me that he was close. Moments
later he had collapsed beside me, his body spent, his breath coming out in
haggard gasps.
Settled in the crook of his arm, I
was tired and happy. In the back of my mind I felt a swirling mass of triumph
and fear, but let it slip away in the moment of relaxation. With a sigh, Scott
turned over to look at me.
“The whole shoot today, all I
could think was how I wanted you. Especially the way you were dressed today.”
I got up on one elbow, responding
with a tired smile.
“Was that get up your idea?”
“No. That was more dictated by the
script. Really it fits with the continuity of your previous scene as the slave
girl. But did I think you would look good in it? Yes. This whole time here,
while we were talking, I thought to myself how great you looked earlier today.”
“You want to see me wear it
again?”
“I can easily arrange that.”
I leaned in for a kiss. “I’d like
that.”
We righted ourselves, getting
dressed, gathering together our things. Scott said he had a few more things to
finish up at the studio before he left, but assured me he would call again soon
to see me. I believed him. The whole bus ride home I was glowing from our time
together and expectant of our next meeting. I twitched in my plastic seat,
thinking of how my body had been touched not long ago. When I got home, the
glow had faded and the concerns I had pushed away began creeping back to the
forefront of my mind.
The apartment was dark, and
decidedly empty. Jenny had left a note, saying not to worry, she’d be working
late tonight, and to give her a call if I needed to talk. I reached for my cell
and then decided against it. I needed to order the conflicting jumble of
emotions in my head before trying to tell anyone about them. I dragged myself
back into my room, ignoring the stagnant air, and fell heavily into bed.
Just this morning I had wanted
nothing more than to never see Scott Rushmand again. But through the shoot,
through our talk together, I was drawn back to him. I could no longer deny that
I wanted him, that there was something between us. But I was hard pressed to
define what exactly was going on. When he said that he desired me and that he
thought of me, I knew he was being honest. He had promised he would protect me
from another scandal, but I couldn’t help but think that it was more out of
concern for him than it was for me. And that was part of what had bothered me,
what I had sensed while we were together in the trailer. Our relationship was
of a purely sexual nature.
Though I could convince myself
that he enjoyed sleeping with me, enjoyed the knowledge that he could please
me, I wasn’t so convinced that he cared for me as a person. He had apologized
for the scandal, but there was no owning up to the fact that his actions
directly brought it on. As far as the discussion of how things would be between
us, it had been a number of decrees from him, and almost all of them were
concerned with sex. Everything was to be in his control, and I was merely the
object of his desire. I decided that Scott Rushmand didn’t love me.
His way of doing things, his
assessment of my own sexual desires, intrigued and excited me, especially when
we were together. But thinking it over, the idea of giving myself over to a man
that did not love me was hard to accept. Whether or not I was in love with
Scott, it was too complicated, too soon to tell.
“How much better is it when they
love you?” a dark voice spoke from the back of my mind. I thought of Jamison,
back in Elgin. He had loved
strong, but his touch and caresses soft. We had burned ourselves out during the
earlier power play and were giving in to the simple feel of our bodies
together. On the floor of the trailer, under the slow rocking of Scott inside
me, my body gave out in a silent shudder. Begging him to be careful, that every
part of me felt hypersensitive, Scott assured me that he was close. Moments
later he had collapsed beside me, his body spent, his breath coming out in
haggard gasps.
Settled in the crook of his arm, I
was tired and happy. In the back of my mind I felt a swirling mass of triumph
and fear, but let it slip away in the moment of relaxation. With a sigh, Scott
turned over to look at me.
“The whole shoot today, all I
could think was how I wanted you. Especially the way you were dressed today.”
I got up on one elbow, responding
with a tired smile.
“Was that get up your idea?”
“No. That was more dictated by the
script. Really it fits with the continuity of your previous scene as the slave
girl. But did I think you would look good in it? Yes. This whole time here,
while we were talking, I thought to myself how great you looked earlier today.”
“You want to see me wear it
again?”
“I can easily arrange that.”
I leaned in for a kiss. “I’d like
that.”
We righted ourselves, getting
dressed, gathering together our things. Scott said he had a few more things to
finish up at the studio before he left, but assured me he would call again soon
to see me. I believed him. The whole bus ride home I was glowing from our time
together and expectant of our next meeting. I twitched in my plastic seat,
thinking of how my body had been touched not long ago. When I got home, the
glow had faded and the concerns I had pushed away began creeping back to the
forefront of my mind.
The apartment was dark, and
decidedly empty. Jenny had left a note, saying not to worry, she’d be working
late tonight, and to give her a call if I needed to talk. I reached for my cell
and then decided against it. I needed to order the conflicting jumble of
emotions in my head before trying to tell anyone about them. I dragged myself
back into my room, ignoring the stagnant air, and fell heavily into bed.
Just this morning I had wanted
nothing more than to never see Scott Rushmand again. But through the shoot,
through our talk together, I was drawn back to him. I could no longer deny that
I wanted him, that there was something between us. But I was hard pressed to
define what exactly was going on. When he said that he desired me and that he
thought of me, I knew he was being honest. He had promised he would protect me
from another scandal, but I couldn’t help but think that it was more out of
concern for him than it was for me. And that was part of what had bothered me,
what I had sensed while we were together in the trailer. Our relationship was
of a purely sexual nature.
Though I could convince myself
that he enjoyed sleeping with me, enjoyed the knowledge that he could please
me, I wasn’t so convinced that he cared for me as a person. He had apologized
for the scandal, but there was no owning up to the fact that his actions
directly brought it on. As far as the discussion of how things would be between
us, it had been a number of decrees from him, and almost all of them were
concerned with sex. Everything was to be in his control, and I was merely the
object of his desire. I decided that Scott Rushmand didn’t love me.
His way of doing things, his
assessment of my own sexual desires, intrigued and excited me, especially when
we were together. But thinking it over, the idea of giving myself over to a man
that did not love me was hard to accept. Whether or not I was in love with
Scott, it was too complicated, too soon to tell.
“How much better is it when they
love you?” a dark voice spoke from the back of my mind. I thought of Jamison,
back in Elgin. He had loved
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