My Master's Slave

DESCRIPTION:
It was vacation time in the summer, and it was pretty slow for an interior designer. I started freaking out. I was practically doing rain dances for business. But then Labor Day arrived, and the phones started ringing again. That was when I met Gavin Reeves. I became his sex slave, and I'll never be the same. Here is how it all happened.

EXCERPT:
I'm all decked out in a rented, strapless Prada gown, and I'm ready to go. Daddy picks me up in a limo, we chat about what's going on in our lives, and then we arrive. Red carpet, cameras flashing. I'm such a poser. But I lift my head up high as Daddy escorts me into the ballroom. I am Cinderella for tonight, at least.

As we walk around the room, saying hello, lots of back slapping going on, I suddenly hear a buzz that can't be mistaken for anything but what it is. Gossip. Craning my neck, I see a tall and utterly gorgeous man making his way through the crowd. Who is he? I've been around this crowd for years and have never laid eyes on him before, but I know exactly where to go to find out. The ladies' room. When I get there I see I'm not the only one wanting the deets on this guy.

Isn't he gorgeous? I hear he's loaded to the gills with money! Who cares about his money? I just want his ass! And all the ladies laugh. What's his name, I ask. Gavin Reeves, a woman blurts. He's a Brit who is moving to New York City for the foreseeable future, opening up shop in the U.S. DING DING DING! He'll need an interior designer! SCORE!

******

"Mr. Reeves?" I say, breaking the spell. "In what way can I help you?"

"I need a designer. I just bought the top floor of the Bradley Building and will need some work done during and after construction is over."

"I see, and when will that be?"

"In four weeks. Do you have the time for an estimate?"

"Of course, I'll schedule it right now. If you give me your business card, I'll call you in a couple of days to come and see the space. Does that sound okay?"

"Aren't you going to ask me what I want as far as my tastes are concerned?"

"No, that's okay. We'll talk about that when I see the space."

"Nevertheless, I want the space to be very masculine. Dark woods, low lighting, with furniture conducive to certain of my proclivities."

"Proclivities?"

"Yes, I am a man of discerning tastes, you might say, and my home must be arranged where anything of the moment might happen."

"Oh, of course. I understand."

"Do you? Do you think you understand?"

"Yes, you want to be able to engage in sexual acts at any moment, anywhere in your home. Correct?" I'm so good at this blasé thing, right? I think he's getting angry!

"What if I were to demand that you indulge me while we figure out the plan?"

"I would say no."

"You would say yes. I will not tolerate anything but your complete obedience."

What the heck is this guy talking about? My obedie…..oh. I get it. My heartbeat starts ramping up, I feel my scalp begin to perspire, and I need to get out of here.

"You're pulling my leg, Mr. Reeves." I stand, signaling that this little whatever it is, is at an end.

"Sit down, Miss Suddith. I'm not done yet."