Play With Me(3)

She tapped the earpiece and said, “Altered Ego. This is Eve. How may I help you?” She cringed at the breathless tone of her voice while she slowly moved from the dressing area and in the direction of the restroom. She squinted against the bright lights after being in the darkness, making her way mostly by memory.

“I’d like to speak with Chase Miller,” a snide female voice demanded.

“He’s in the middle of a shoot and unavailable for calls. I could either take a message, or if there is anything I can help with…” She hoped not. She could barely talk as it was. Eve pushed into the bathroom and locked the door behind her. She doubted anyone would be coming out of the studio anytime soon, but you never knew.

“I have a custom order for him. An urgent one.”

“No problem. I can take the basic details and then send you the art form to be filled out. Although I’m not sure of Mr. Miller’s availability. I would have to consult with him.”

“No, no, it must be right away, but I’m certain once he finds out who his client is, it won’t be a problem.” The confident assistant annoyed her. A sure trait of the rich and famous and the select few who work for them.

“Okay. Then if you’d like to download the form from modelmayhem.com and submit it, I can be sure that Mr. Miller gets it as soon as he’s finished with his current session.” The loud sigh in her ear had Eve rolling her eyes.

“Fine. I will do that now and will expect a call back this afternoon, the moment Mr. Miller is free.”

“Sure, no problem.” The caller disconnected, and Eve pressed her earpiece to off.

Standing in front of the sink and mirror of the opulent bathroom Chase provided, she leaned heavily on her hands and gulped for air. A glance into the mirror was a stark reminder of exactly what she’d been up to. Her blouse was unbuttoned with her bra still pushed above her breasts, and her skirt sat bunched up around her waist. Thank God no one had walked into the receptionist area while she’d been peeping, or they’d have gotten an interesting eyeful when she’d answered the phone. Not like anyone familiar with Chase’s fetish work would probably blink an eye though. A half-dressed woman around the studio was hardly uncommon.

She quickly washed her hands and put her clothes back to rights. But her hair had somehow become a disaster. She’d started to sweat, so some of it had plastered to the side of her face, and it generally looked a mess. She grabbed the makeup bag she left on the shelf and pulled out a brush and lipstick.

Having long hair came with a lot of work, but she felt that the red tresses were her best feature. Her friends often complimented her on it, along with the remark that if she’d just shed some of her weight, she’d be stunning. Eve stood back and studied her hips and thighs. Yes, she would never be called skinny, but she rather liked her curves. Why did everyone have to be so obsessed with being tiny? What the hell was wrong with healthy? She shrugged and hurried out of the bathroom. Not something she had time to worry about at the moment.

At her desk, she swiveled toward the computer and hit the button to bring up her e-mail, but her mind drifted back to the studio and the scene still going on. She never got to see the full details on most of the hard-core orders because Chase held them strictly confidential, but after what little she’d witnessed, her imagination had gone into overdrive. How far would they go? Did a custom order include f*cking? The image of Murphy sliding his thick cock into Jennifer filled Eve’s mind, and a groan slid from her mouth, which she quickly smothered with her hand.


Get it together before you find yourself in more trouble than you can handle.

Eve’s e-mail popped up, and she took the distraction for what it was and scrolled through some of the junk to delete what she didn’t need. The rest she filed to look at later when her brain wasn’t mush. A new e-mail from the Web site popped open, and the subject line read:

Urgent Custom Order

No doubt from the caller who’d hung up on her a mere five minutes ago.

Curious, she clicked it open to find out more. As she expected, the order stated it came from a Mr. Smith. It wasn’t uncommon for some of Chase’s clients not to divulge their names on their paperwork. In those instances, he would take their private information directly. She scrolled through the particulars such as time of delivery, type of film, settings, and down to the model information.

Model must be redheaded and of a plus-size nature with full breasts.

Eve nearly choked on her sip of coffee. In all the orders she’d taken, no one had ever asked for a plus-size model. Whoever the mystery customer was, she already liked him. A larger woman would be a refreshing change around here. She clicked to forward the message to Chase and went back to the rest of her e-mails. If she focused on her work, maybe she’d be able to get her mind off the scene she’d spied on at least long enough to get through the rest of the day.

When she got home, all bets were off, and her vibrator would get the workout of its life. A wicked smile tugged at her lips. She desperately wanted to know more about Chase’s and Murphy’s private lives. Sure she knew a lot about their fetishes, but how deep into the BDSM scene did they go? Her pathetic and limited experience left her a little green, but mostly because she found it difficult to define her own needs, let alone find a Dom to click with.

So much of the local scene seemed to revolve around playing roles. Master and slave. Simply thinking the words made her * clench. Maybe one day she’d figure it out…understand how to be what a master sought.