21

Elena

It had been four days since our spanking lesson, and in that time we’d attended an industry party, meetings for the film, and finished out the table read. My brain felt like it was going to melt from making small talk.

Alex and I had done some more work on his scenes, but something still wasn’t clicking. Reaper’s monthly party was happening that evening, so it seemed like high time to expose him to the real deal.

I sent him a text that said, “Play party tonight. You game?”

“You know I am. What time should I pick you up?”

“Eleven. We can talk ground rules at my place. Dress to impress. No jeans.”

He arrived at my house in a designer tuxedo and his signature dazzling smile. He knew exactly how good he looked.

I was still in a robe, so I quickly ushered him inside.

“Of course you show up in a fucking tux. Come on, we’ll fix your outfit and I’ll finish getting ready.”

“Nice to see you too, sweetheart. Happy two-week anniversary. You’re halfway done with me.”

“We’re running a little late. I meant to get there before it gets crazy, but we’ll make it work. Now let’s figure out what to do with your outfit. That’s way too many clothes for where we’re going.”

He spread his arms and spun in a circle, smiling unselfconsciously despite my criticism. “Constantly coming up with new reasons to get my clothes off…” He tutted.

“Lose the shirt and it’ll be fine. I’ve got a mask we’ll put on you.”

I left him in the living room to do as instructed and ran to my bedroom to finish getting dressed. I had to squeeze and shimmy into my strapless latex minidress, carefully pulling and snapping the stretchy fabric until it sat snuggly where it was supposed to. It was like squeezing my way into a balloon, nothing graceful about it, but thankfully I didn’t have an audience.

I pulled on a pair of platform thigh-high boots, grabbed a bottle of lube, and headed back to find my date. I didn’t want to leave him unsupervised in my house for too long.

Evidently, that had been long enough for him to go snooping around because he was brandishing three DVDs. He waved them at me. “You own no fewer than three films that I’m in—look that’s me right there on the cover—and yet you claimed you had no idea who I was?”

I broke into a fit of laughter at how indignant he looked. “To be fair, Kate Fucking Brannan is on that cover with you, so I don’t see anything else. She’s a goddess.”

There was a moment of silence in which we both finally noticed what the other was wearing and the vibe of the room shifted.

Having him take his shirt off was a terrible idea. I didn’t have many fetishes, but as bizarre as it was, suspenders drove me wild. Seeing his perfectly sculpted naked torso in suspenders was almost my undoing.