Play With Me(5)

“Damn.”

“Yeah, exactly.” Chase leaned his chair to a near-reclining position and brushed the hair from his face. He was about three weeks past due for a haircut and it wouldn’t stay out of his eyes.

“Did she have any idea what she was asking for?”

“Probably not. She’s asked a lot of questions since she arrived and we’ve both been completely honest with the extent of what we do here, but I doubt our little submissive wannabe has any real clue of what she’d be getting herself into.”

“Not to mention you’ve got the worst hard-on for her.”

Chase looked sharply at his friend. “Fuck you, man. I’ve seen you staring at her rack every chance you get. You’re lucky she hasn’t called sexual harassment on your ass.”

“Me? Please. I’m not the one on the verge of biting her head off because you want in her pants so bad you can’t think straight half the time.” Murphy pulled himself from the couch and paced the length of the room. “I say we give her a chance. Show her the contract. If that doesn’t scare her off, then maybe you’re wrong about her.”

“Easy for you to say. You just f*cked your brains out.”

“You know I can’t resist a woman who begs. And she’d have been happy to service you as well. Jennifer is a sweet little professional subbie.”

Chase tried to shake the images his camera captured today. A photographer was the ultimate voyeur and while he knew how to maintain control, this long dry spell he’d put himself through had begun to take its toll. It was time to head to the club and begin a new search. Someone there would surely make him stop thinking about a certain bewitching little receptionist who dared him to take her with a guileless look.

“You can’t resist any subbie. You’re such a f*cking horndog.”

“Yeah, and since when is that a bad thing? You’re either getting uptight in your old age or it’s time for you to examine why this woman is under your skin.”

Chase hated it when his friend was right. “Was she really crying when she left?” He loved to see a woman in tears, but not from his rejection. He’d rather see her writhing in his restraints, alternating between crying her eyes out and begging him to f*ck her. His half-hard dick swelled more.

“Yeah, I was ready to run after her until you told me the deal. Since I’m not the one who rejected her, I think she needs to hear it from you.”

Professionally he should stay the hell away from her. Personally he couldn’t let her go. Not without talking to her.

With any luck, he’d explain what would be required of her and she’d run for the hills. There were reasons he didn’t do hard-core shoots with amateurs. They were strenuous and fraught with high emotional impact. Not everyone could handle it.

“Chase, stop thinking about it and just talk to her. Not everything in this lifestyle has to fit your rigid standards.”

“Don’t give me—”

“Just f*cking talk to her.”

*

Chase stared at the rundown apartment building in front of him and compared it to the address he’d hastily written on his notepad. The fact they matched stunned him. Why the hell did Eve live in a place like this? He pressed the lock button on his car remote and approached the building cautiously. The neighborhood didn’t seem safe, much less the structure she lived in.

According to the address she provided she lived on the second floor. Chase opened the door and was immediately assaulted by a horrid smell. A mixture of pine cleaner and old. At least someone had given a halfhearted attempt to mask the fact this place threatened to crumble at any moment.

He gave a sideways glance to the elevator and decided against it. The stairs had to be a better choice. The open-to-the-outside stairwell did improve his opinion marginally as he took two steps at a time. In fact when he reached the landing he could have sworn he’d walked into a different building altogether.

Eve’s door was the first on the right and he gave it a hard knock. He had half a mind to drag her out of here and find somewhere safe for her to live. Like his condo. The crazy thought formed before he had a chance to stop it. No way. Talk about your bad ideas with a capital f*cked-up.

He heard noises from within the space and waited as patiently as possible for her to open the door.

“Chase, what do you want?” Her muffled question sounded through the door. Guess the peephole works.

“I’d like a few minutes of your time.”

“No.”

Her quick and abrupt answer brought a smile to his face. Turnabout was certainly fair play with this one. “C’mon, Eve, give me a chance to explain. I am still your employer after all.”

The only response he got was metal sliding on metal and a few seconds later she yanked the door open a few inches, a safety chain crossing in front of her face.

“I pretty much figured after I walked out today, my job would be gone.”

She’d scrubbed her face clean of makeup and she wore a simple spaghetti-strap tank top and yoga-style pants that gently hugged the curves of her hips and legs. Without those insanely sexy shoes she wore every day he noticed how short she really was. Instead of looking like a child, her clean face and simple clothes gave him a sense of sweet vulnerability. Now he wished he’d brought his camera.

“Is that what you want? To quit?” Chase shouldered the door and moved closer. “Let me come in for a few minutes so we can talk about it.” If she really wanted to leave, then he finally had his way out of the torture he’d suffered. He could simply walk away now and be done with the whole mess. He’d go to the club tonight and find a willing play partner and go from there.