: Chapter 3

‘Come in Ms. Jenkins. I trust Mrs. Cosgrove has seen to your needs?’

Sylvie nodded meekly. Something about him gave her the shivers. She looked around the room; the walls were literally covered with matted, framed book jackets. If she had to venture a guess, she’d say there were between seventy-five and a hundred books up on the wall. She recognized almost all the titles and all the authors, or rather pen names. She was pretty sure they were all pseudonyms and had been written by none other than Mr. Connor Hudson himself. When did he find time to eat, sleep, and poop?

‘Please sit over there Ms. Jenkins,’ he said, pointing at a chair next to his desk. ‘Your name’s Sylvie isn’t it? May I call you Sylvie?’

‘Yes of course, Mr. Hudson,’ she said, giving him a nervous smile.

‘We’re not formal around here. Please call me Connor. I didn’t give the employment agency very much information about the job, so I’m sure you must have a lot of questions. I want to give you an idea of what your duties will be and what’s expected of you. Nothing’s written in stone. We’ll probably make it up and modify it as we go along. Is that OK with you?’

She nodded.

‘You probably know that I previously interviewed other people for the position, but didn’t feel they were right for the job. I paid them for their time and trouble and sent them back to the city. I’m hoping you’ll be different.’

Sylvie couldn’t help wondering if the fact that he walked around the house with his dick and balls on display had anything to do with that. It might give a new hire pause. It certainly did her!

‘I’m working on a new book. Something much different from the kind of thing I’ve written in the past.’ His hand made a sweeping gesture at the walls.

‘Your body of work is very impressive,’ she said, trying not to sound like a kiss-ass.

‘Well, this will be a real departure from my normal comfort zone,’ he said. ‘I’m fine with murder and mayhem, fantasies and sci-fi, thrillers; but this one will be different. My characters are sometimes unprincipled: they swear, they lie, they cheat, they kill, and sometimes they have sex; but my books are PG at best. Sex is not something I dwell on in my stories. Certainly nothing I devote pages and pages of description to. But this new book will be different. Way different. I guess you’d call it an erotic romance, what they’re now calling Mommy porn. Are you familiar with the genre?’

‘Yes.’ She felt like she was admitting to being a perv or a degenerate.

‘You’ll be doing extensive research for the book. The story is set in the city and I want it to be believable. I’m a stickler for research. You’ll tell me where the young ultra-rich of Manhattan go to eat, drink, and be seen. I want to know the restaurants and bars they frequent. And what’s on the menus. I want to know where they live. What the interiors of their homes look like. Where they vacation. I want to know the stores and boutiques they shop in. The designers they wear. Think trendy! I want this book to be authentic! You’ll be the fashionista and decide what clothing and accessories the characters might wear. You’ll provide the pictures and I’ll turn the picture into words.’

‘I don’t know much about fashion,’ she admitted. Didn’t he notice the way she was dressed? The out of style print skirt she’d had since junior high school. The faded pink tee shirt that Meagan threw out and Sylvie retrieved from the trash. The scuffed-up shoes she’d bought at Goodwill.

‘This isn’t finding a cure for cancer,’ he said dismissively. ‘What’s to know? Say I have my characters go to a benefit for the Metropolitan Museum of Art. You’ll research what women wore last year, then find me a designer gown for the heroine to wear, something readers can see in a magazine or on the web, and that I can describe in the book. You’ll find out what women wear to go sailing in the Caribbean or clubbing in Paris. Since a good deal of the book will have the characters walking around in various stages of undress, I need to know about bras, panties and all the other kinds of lingerie women wear. Always recognizable brands, always expensive, always chic. Are you getting the picture? It shouldn’t be that difficult. This isn’t rocket science. Look in Vogue, InStyle, or Elle!’

Sylvie nodded. But she was in way over her head and she knew it. Most of the clothing she owned came from Walmart’s, Kmart’s, or thrift shops. She was hardly a fashionista.

‘You’ll also be doing a lot of research on sex.’

Her eyes widened, but she didn’t say a word.

‘Unusual sexual practices, fetishes, and proclivities like bondage and discipline, sadism, masochism, sex toys, erotic art, pornography…well, you get the idea. Is that going to be a problem for you?’ He stared at her, waiting for an answer.

Sylvie could feel her face turning red…bright red. Without looking him in the eye, she shook her head no. She had a bad feeling about this. The pervert wanted her to research perversion? What the fuck?

‘You’ll also be expected to proofread and edit my work; offer suggestions; but most importantly, I want you to give me a woman’s perspective on things. A lot of the things I ask you to do will be, shall we say, not the traditional duties of a research assistant or a copy editor. The work environment around here is entirely different than what you’d find in an office. I know you were a little shocked by what you saw when you came in. The nudity is part of the writing process for this book. I adopt the persona of the lead male character in my stories. In this case the fellow’s name is Elias Rivers. He fits the formula for these types of books. He’s very rich and very screwed up. His sexual appetites lean toward BDSM. Are you at all familiar with that sort of thing?’

Sylvie didn’t know what to say. Of course she knew what S & M and B & D were. Didn’t everyone? But she’d never experience them. If she said no he’d probably think she was some prim and proper stick in the mud…a prude. Too naive for the job! If she said yes, then he’d think she was a pervert. There was no winning! ‘Not from personal experience,’ she admitted, squirming in the chair.

‘Tell me Sylvie; are you familiar with the Master of My Soul trilogy?

‘Yes.’ How could she not be? The books had been on the Times bestseller list for nearly nine months.

‘Have you read them?’

She nervously averted her eyes. ‘Yes. I’ve read them.’ She decided not to tell him that she’d spent six weeks on the library’s waiting list just for the privilege.

‘What did you think…honestly?’

‘I don’t want to be overly critical, but I’d have to say that I thought they were poorly written and poorly edited. I was kind of shocked that they made it to the Times bestseller list, but you can’t quibble with success. The reading public certainly loves them.’

‘That doesn’t say much for the reading public does it? I think it’s more accurate to say that women love the books. I don’t know very many men who’ve read them. I agree with your assessment. They’re amateurish. They read like a first draft and a poorly written one at that. They’re redundant; the same phrases keep appearing over and over again in each of the books. If I had to read ‘their tongues entwined in a rising tide of…’ rapture, ecstasy, desire, passion, whatever one more time I was going to puke. If she said it once, she said it at least fifty times. And ‘flicking her nipples’…every time you turned the page he was ‘flicking her nipple with his hot, wet, slick tongue.’ Give me a break! I can’t for the life of me figure out why so many women are buying them. Have we raised a society of female illiterates? What about good taste? What about good writing? Doesn’t that matter anymore?’

The questions were rhetorical. Sylvie didn’t know whether she was supposed to offer an opinion or not. But what the hell. ‘I think anonymity is the key to their popularity. At least it was in the beginning. The Master of My Soul books started out as self-published ebooks. Ebooks are by their nature anonymous. You download them onto your Kindle, your Nook, or your iPad and nobody knows what you’re reading. It’s not like holding up a paperback so everybody can see the cover. You can be reading the most vile and disgusting thing in the world and no one will know. Most women are reticent about advertising their interest in unusual forms of sexual activity. Buying an erotic ebook is not like going into an adult bookstore and heading for the porn section. No one can see you. No one can judge you. You can indulge your fantasies, your hidden desires and no one is the wiser. The books were already ebook bestsellers before they ever made it into print. Once they achieved bestseller status, the taboo was lifted and women felt that they could buy the books out in the open because everybody else was too. It was on the Times bestseller list. Ergo it can’t be porn. It must be an acceptable form of literature! The books have spawned a kind of sexual awakening among women. Once the cat was out of the bag, other writers rushed in to join the gravy train and self-publish similar stories. Actually, in some cases it’s the same exact story once removed. I read Ties that Bind and The Good Little Girl too, and except for the characters’ names and the cities they take place in; everything else is pretty much the same. As you said, there’s a formula. Uber-rich guy meets poor, hardworking girl. He’s a handsome, brooding libertine who’s tormented by dark secrets. She’s beautiful, skinny, and naive. He’s into domination and sexual experimentation; she’s into virginity. He wants to tie her up, spank her, and maybe stick a butt plug in her bottom; inexplicably…she lets him. They have hot, graphic sex every fifteen pages or so. And have no sense of decorum. They do it every place imaginable: in elevators, limos, at the office, on boats, in airplanes, in castles, in penthouses, on mountains, in deserts, in fields, and forests. Outdoors or indoors, it makes them no nevermind. They copulate on every possible surface: kitchen and dining room tables, marble floors, granite countertops, mahogany desks, grand pianos, sports car hoods, pickup tailgates, bathroom sinks, perched on rock cliffs; and in one case, on a Spanish tile roof where the neighbors could see. The books are basically a retelling of the Cinderella fairytale only kinkier and X-rated.’ She was going to continue, but he was frowning at her. Uh oh. No one likes a know-it-all. She’d just told him the entire plot of his new book!

‘They say women actually experience orgasms while reading them. Is that true?’

Why was he asking her? The question was impertinent! It was none of his damn business if she came or didn’t come while reading the books. She didn’t, but still… What the hell did he expect her to say?

‘Too personal?’ he said, sensing her discomfort.

She nodded and glowered at him. She didn’t like where this conversation was going.

He studied her a moment. He couldn’t help himself; he found her blushing, demure demeanor attractive. ‘I’ve never written a book from a woman’s perspective before. This will be a first for me,’ he said changing the subject. ‘The lead female character is twenty-two. I’m thinking of calling her Samantha, Sam for short. What do you think?’

‘I like it. Elias sounds dark and mysterious. Sam sounds sweet and innocent. It works in the context of the story, the formula.’

‘Perfect. Glad you approve. You’re going to be Sam.’

‘Excuse me?’ she asked. ‘I don’t understand.’ Had she missed something? Were they going to be acting out parts of the book?

‘It’s very simple really. I’m going to write the story and you’re going to tell me how a young woman would react or feel when placed in that situation. Take for example…’ He walked over to her chair and grabbing her arms pulled her to her feet.

Before Sylvie could protest he brought his lips down on hers. She felt like she should shove him away and slap his face, but she didn’t. His hands held her fast. His warm, full lips pressed against her mouth. The feeling was intense, sensuous. Like nothing she’d ever experienced before. He kissed her hard, crushing her lips. His mouth opened. Something warm and wet pressed against her lips, forcing them apart. She tried to resist, but his tongue was insistent. It burrowed into her, filling her mouth. It tasted sweet. He teased her; pushing it in, then withdrawing it. With each thrust his tongue delved deeper and deeper. He stroked her tongue with his. First tickling then circling it. Their tongues dueled, parrying like swordsmen for control. Her breathing became strained and there was a strange twitch between her legs. Things were getting out of hand! Shouldn’t she knee him in the groin or something? Or maybe bite him? Why was she allowing him to do this to her? The twitch intensified. Because it felt good, that’s why! Their tongues hungrily circled each other. Sylvie could barely catch her breath. Wow! Mr. Connor Hudson was sure as hell a good kisser. Sylvie felt like she was melting. There was a fire growing inside her. He pulled her to him. Her breasts flush against his rock hard chest. But it wasn’t his chest she was focused on. Something hard was pressing against her belly. A second later, Connor pulled away, staring at her. What the hell was that about?

‘How did that feel? How would you describe it?’

Sylvie looked shocked and confused. What sick game was he playing? ‘You want me to tell you how I’m feeling? Are you serious?’

‘Exactly!’

‘I’m not used to being manhandled,’ she said indignantly. ‘I was shocked at your behavior. You made me nervous and uncomfortable. I felt threatened. I didn’t know how to react. You’re my employer for God’s sake! My first inclination was to punch you in the nose if you must know. My second was to knee you!’

‘Ouch,’ he smirked. ‘That’s a bit excessive! OK, I’ll accept the fact you’re a tough lady. Why didn’t you?’

‘I’m not sure,’ she glared at him. What did he expect her to say…that it felt good? That she enjoyed it?

‘What did it feel like? Did you like it? Hate it? What?’

She looked at him like he had two heads.

‘Can you describe it?’ he asked in frustration. ‘You know, for the book.’

What a slime ball! He accosts her and then acts like it’s research. Research my ass! ‘Elias held her fast in a viselike embrace as his tongue plunged into the warmth of her mouth. His tongue circled hers, demanding submission. Then thrust hard, driving into her with a ferocity that frightened her. She tried to push him away, flee, but she was trapped in his arms. There was no escaping him. She was his and he would not be denied.’

‘Very good Miss Jenkins. You certainly can turn a phrase. But you say it frightened her. It didn’t frighten you. As a matter of fact, I’m pretty sure you enjoyed the experience,’ he said, pointedly looking down at her breasts and grinning.

Sylvie looked down in horror. Oh God, high beams! Her nipples had betrayed her. They stood hard and erect, straining against the thin fabric of her tee shirt. They were standing at attention. It was as though they were saying ‘Look at me! Look at me!’ She folded her arms in front of her chest and tried to look mad in a vain attempt to conceal her perky nibs. She felt the heat creeping up her cheeks again. She looked away, unwilling to meet his gaze.

‘I guess we should really talk more about your duties and what I expect of you,’ he said, changing the subject.

Thank God!

‘I work all the time, everywhere I go, at all hours of the day or night. I’ll expect you to do the same. There’s a desktop, printers, and phones in the room across the hall. That’ll be your office. I’ll also provide you with a laptop, an android, and an iPhone, which you’ll take with you whenever we go somewhere. You’ll be responsible for screening all the calls I receive here. It’ll mostly be calls from my New York office or personal calls. I don’t like being disturbed when I work and it will be your job to see that I’m not. My New York office handles my business meeting schedules, so you won’t have to deal with that; but you will be handling the local stuff. Do you like the outdoors?’ he asked, completely off topic. ‘I mean things like camping, canoeing, hiking, fishing, and hunting?’

‘Oh yes,’ she said, trying to sound convincing. But she was lying through her teeth. Camping? Hiking? Did they have electricity and flush toilets in the woods? If not, she wasn’t interested. The idea of peeing in the woods didn’t appeal to her. Her father had taken her fishing once when she was little. She hated it. She’d cried for two hours until he rowed her back to shore. And hunting…what was that about?

‘That’s good,’ he said. ‘Because if I’m canoeing, you’ll canoe. If I’m hiking, you’ll hike. If I’m fishing, you’ll fish. If I’m up in a stand waiting to bag a deer, you’ll be right there with me. You’ll carry a steno pad with you at all such times so that you can take down any thoughts or ideas I have for the book. Some of my best stuff comes to me when I’m out in the woods or climbing a mountain. Something about clean fresh air that revs up the gray cells.’

She smiled weakly. Was he serious? ‘I really didn’t come prepared for that. I don’t have any of my equipment here.’ Like she’d left it home. Yeah right! Lying to your boss…was that grounds for dismissal?

He quirked his lips and raised an eyebrow. He got the feeling the little minx was pulling his leg. ‘Don’t worry; I’ll have Brady take you into town tomorrow to get some gear. We’re going to be hiking in the High Peaks with some of my old school friends next weekend so you’ll need to get equipped: boots, backpack, mountain tent, things like that. Just charge everything you need to my account.’

She nodded, resigned to her fate. He’d called her bluff. Hiking. That sounded like loads of fun…NOT! She was working for a woodsman pervert. Lucky her!

‘Well, are you ready to get started?’

‘Yes,’ she said, taking in a deep breath.

He motioned her toward the door. ‘Good. I need you to prepare a list of erotic terms for me. Synonyms and words and phrases that describe male and female anatomy, foreplay, kissing, cunnilingus, fellatio, intercourse, orgasms, that sort of thing.’

Her eyes widened. Was he serious? She could feel her cheeks burning.

‘Don’t worry,’ he assured her. ‘You’re a smart girl. You’ll figure it out.’

He hustled her out the door. Employee orientation was over!