His Dark Secret - Part 1 (Erotic Romance Serial Novel) (7 page)

 

No matter what, I thought, this is
my last day working here. Tonight I’m going to start looking for a new job, and
that will be it. No more stupid costumes, no more stupid props, no more stupid
Scott.

 

One of the production assistants
was walking towards me, looking for all the world like an indignant bird,
holding a clipboard in front of him, his elbows stretched to his sides.

 

He even squawked like a bird,
“Stand up, you’re going to ruin the costume. It’s worth more than you. I could
get you fired for this.” I added to the list in my head: no more stupid
production assistants.

 

I stood up, barely coming up to
the young man’s chest. Standing with my fists on my hips, fixing him with the
most I’m-too-tired-for-this stare I could muster I said, “Is that what was so
urgent, you came all the way over here?”

 

His indignation fell from his
face, replaced with consternation. He addressed the space an inch above my
head.

 

“Mr. Rushmand wishes to see you in
his trailer after the shoot.”

 

“Did he specifically use my name?”

 

The assistant looked confused.
“Yes.”

 

I nodded. I stepped closer to him.
“So what you’re telling me is you walked over here, yelled at me for sitting in
a costume that is meant to look dirty, threaten to have me fired, with the
knowledge that Scott Rushmand, director of this movie, founding member of this
studio, has asked for me personally. Now does that sound smart to you?”

 

The assistant didn’t even respond.
He just shook his head, eyes filled with terror, and turned to go. I looked
around and saw that Gary was standing not too far away. He seemed surprised
more than anything else. I nodded at him, as if to say, “I mean business.”

 

As strong as my demonstration had
been, my hands were shaking as I put on my boots. As nice as it was to know I
could tell someone off, I was definitely not comfortable with this yet. Had the
guy been a little more determined, I really could have lost my job.

 

Chapter Five

 

The rest of the shoot was
uneventful, what with more walking interspersed with bouts of standing. I felt
sad as I disrobed, not wanting to give up my fatigues. Slipping into my orange
and yellow sundress, I felt almost naked against what I was about to face. I
wanted to be fierce; I wanted to be suited up for war. But in the dress, I felt
as vulnerable as when I had worn the slave girl outfit for the first time.

 

Outside it was dark, the
California night warm as I made my way to the trailer of “Mr. Rushmand”. I felt
like a bundle of frayed nerves, uncertain as to how things would play
themselves out. The lights of the trailer were on and I could see a silhouette
pacing back and forth. I pulled together my resolve and knocked on the trailer
door, and the silhouette stopped mid pace.

 

“Come in.”

 

Inside, the trailer was filled
with smoke. Scott stood there in a blue suit, sans the tie, looking crisp and
coiffed as ever. A half-burnt cigarette rested in his hand and there was a
glass ashtray on the table.

 

“I didn’t know you smoke.”

 

“Only in passing.”

 

He took a drag and squished it out
in the ashtray. There were already three butts in it. I took a closer look and
realized it was brand new. Looking back up at Scott I said, “You’re nervous.”

 

He sat at the table, ignoring my
comment completely. He raised an eyebrow.

 

“Gary tells me you made quite a
scene during the break. Really chewed out one of my assistants.”

 

“He deserved it. And you deserve
more than that. What’s going on? You have your greasy little assistants call me
up specifically so I’m on set; they harass me and threaten me while I’m here,
and you? You treat me like you never met me before.”

 

“While I can’t speak for my
assistants personally, I assure you I’ll have them reprimanded. I can speak for
myself though, and I apologize for being so cold to you today. But had you not
hung up on me when I called, we wouldn’t be in this situation.”

 

He didn’t even flinch when I
slammed my hands on the table, doing my best to tower over him. The ashtray was
knocked off the table and bounced harmlessly on the floor. The action seemed to
surprise me more than Scott, who looked at me stony as ever. But I couldn’t
back down now. I was done with this, his concise manner of addressing me, as if
he were explaining a hard fact of life to a child for the first time.

 

“Cut it out Scott. You’re doing it
now. Just cut out the bullshit. I’m in this situation because you filmed us
having sex, and it got out. Now I’m in every tabloid, every gossip column, and
all over the Internet. You screwed up somewhere and it’s hurting me. You may be
used to this kind of attention, but I’m not. But what pissed me off the most
was the fact that it took the scandal for you to actually call me up. If that
video hadn’t leaked, you never would have talked to me again. I was just something
you used. Right now, you’re not even talking like I’m equal, like I’m an adult.
To you, I’m just an animal, a plaything.”

 

Hot tears were searing my eyes,
falling onto the table. My throat was dry.

 

“You’ve ruined my life. I wish I
had never met you.”

 

I felt exhausted now. I slipped
into the seat across from Scott. I wanted to leave, but just didn’t have the
energy to move. Scott was sitting next to me with an arm around my shoulder. I
didn’t fight him. I didn’t give into it either, remaining rigid and still. He
reached into his blazer and I began to shake my head, ready to refuse the
handkerchief. I stopped when he placed a yellow sheet of notepad paper neatly
in front of me. It was the note I had left after our night together. It had
been folded over and the creases were dirty with handling. Scott read the
message to me.

 

“‘Thanks for letting me into your
world. Hope to see you soon.’ Do you remember writing that?”

 

I nodded, gulping back my tears.

 

His eyebrows were knit together as
if he was searching for the right way to express his thoughts.

 

“That night, I invited you into
two very distinct, but interconnected worlds, with their own rules and ways of
operation. The first was the world of Hollywood, of stars and artists. You get
the clubs, the fun work, and the nice penthouse with that, but at a cost:
scrutiny. By entering that world you become an object of the media, everything
you do is watched, examined, dissected for other people’s entertainment and,
yes, ridicule. I am deeply sorry you had to experience it first hand and in
this manner, but the fact is we can’t change what happened. The video got out,
I don’t know how yet, but I promise you that we will find out who did this.” He
paused for a second and I could tell that he was bothered by it, even though he
was trying hard not to show it.

 

“Regardless, we can’t simply
retract it. The best we can do is to find a way to deal with it. I apologize
for my cold behavior today, but in my opinion it was the best course of action.
I didn’t want to draw undue attention to you, and so on set I kept things
completely professional.”

 

While he had been talking, I had
nestled deeper into his embrace, but at this point I pulled further away.

 

“But still singled me out. You had
your assistants make sure I was on set, got them to ask for me during the
break. Doesn’t that also draw attention? Why not send somebody who knows about
us?”

 

Scott laughed at this, crisp and
hearty, pulling me back to him.

 

“I still wanted to see you. What
would you have me do? Come to you personally? Have Gary come and fetch you?
That would draw even more attention. Having the assistants talk to you could be
better explained. You were featured in an important scene of the movie, it
makes sense, as far as continuity goes, that your character be present for
subsequent scenes. As I said, easily explained.”

 

At this point he propped me up by
the shoulders, turning to face me fully. He reached out caressing my cheek. I
couldn’t bring myself to move with the touch, but couldn’t stop myself from
closing my eyes.

 

“You said you wished you had never
met me, but, if I may be so frank, you enjoy my company, enjoy the way I touch
you, look at you, treat you. And with that comes a whole other set of rules. My
needs are specific, precise. I enjoy control and conflict, how they work with
and against each other. Together they create struggle and to me there is
nothing more beautiful.”

 

I opened my eyes. “So you want me
to submit to you?”

 

There was a glint in his eyes now.
“Yes and no. More than anything, I like being in control. But if it was as
simple as that, then I would be as bad, no, worse than what you thought of me.
Because of my position, the way I am viewed in this town, I could get that
complete submission from anyone. But with you, it’s different. I got a sense of
it when we had sex, but didn’t understand until today. You enjoy being in a
position where you are told what to do and what not to do-“

 

I interrupted his line of thought
there. I was reminded of my time living with Jamison and recoiled at the idea
of being controlled.

 

“I don’t enjoy that at all.”

 

“Let me finish. Or rephrase it I
guess. You enjoy being in the position of being told what to do, because
struggling against that oppression gives you a sense of empowerment.”

 

“Honestly, as I recall, I was
pretty submissive to you that night.”

 

“You may have given in to the act,
the situation, but in it you still struggled. You may not have noticed it, but
you’ve changed in these past two weeks. You seem more confident.

 

I hadn’t felt that way, not in my
time working at the yogurt shop, feeling I had been swept up in something
larger than me, and then cast to the side. I thought back on my days confined
to my room, Jenny doing her best to get me out of my depression.

 

“Before everything came out, I
felt helpless, that everything was out of my control.”

 

“It was wrong of me not to call
you back. I wanted to, more than anything else, but honestly I was just as
helpless. This studio is pretty small and requires a lot of work, from top to
bottom.”

 

“And afterwards, I just sunk
further into myself. I wasn’t taking care of myself. I can’t believe anyone
would see me as competent, let alone confident,” I continued.

 

“Why not? Look at what happened
earlier today. My assistant tried to control you in his petty little way. He
took the smallest infraction and tried to use it to raise himself to a level
above you. And what did you do? You fought back, and intelligently. You could
have submitted, you could have just yelled at him, but you used the very
information he had provided and twisted it on him. How did you feel after
confronting him?”

 

“Honestly, I was scared. I really
thought I could have lost my job”

 

“Not after you thought about. The
instant after you had told him off.”

 

I thought back to the situation. The
fear in the assistant’s eyes, the nod of confidence I had given to Gary, who
had witnessed the whole thing. Scott spoke for me.

 

“You felt empowered. You enjoy
being controlled because you enjoy the struggle. I can make you feel that way
better than anyone else. You just have to accept the rules of my world.”

 

Scott’s hands moved to my wrists,
which he pinned behind my head. I felt awkward, slightly uncomfortable as my
back was pressed against the wall of the trailer, but my legs still sat in the
booth of the table. He was kissing me, holding both my hands with one of his
own, the other exploring the curves of my body.

 

“Scott,” I said. “Just hold on,
oh.”

 

His hand had slipped under my
dress, fingers inside me. He was kissing my neck now and I had to suppress a
moan of pleasure to get my words out, and then only in a whisper.

 

“Yes, that is nice Scott. But the
tape, you taping me.”

 

None of this was stopping him, his
mouth on my lips again. I wanted him, I wanted every part of him, but I needed
him to listen. There were parts I still couldn’t accept. He was slipping my
panties off.

 

“Scott, we need to talk about
this.”

 

He let go, pulling back from me
completely. His eyes were not angry, but flashed with frustration, as if I was
failing to understand a simple law of nature. I felt vulnerable under that
stare, my spine twisted, my panties halfway down my thighs. He exhaled through
his nose.

 

“What is there to talk about? I
thought I was being very clear. If you want to be with me, to sleep with me,
things have to be done in a certain way.”

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