Undone Rebel (Undone Lovers, Book One) (2 page)

“Delightful.” Helen looked relieved at having finally found someone all three of them could agree on. She straightened the scarf draped over one shoulder. “Now all I need to do is convince her. She’s stopping by in,” Helen checked her watch, “fifteen minutes.”

“Does she know what the project is about?” Lane asked. He stood but didn’t leave the conference room with the other Doms. The woman in the image fired his imagination. The mix of defiance and grudging submission in a beautiful woman was like waving a red flag in front of a bull for him.

“No, all we told her was that we were interested in having her model. I think it will be easier if I can show her other books. We lost several promising candidates after I failed to successfully explain what the project was.”

Lane could understand the women’s hesitation. He’d hesitated himself when he was approached with the project. For him, BDSM was something he craved in the bedroom, but he was far from rabid the way men like Alton were. He had a normal life, a normal job, and wasn’t sure he wanted to risk that all for a porn book. It wasn’t until he met with Helen and saw a prior book—one focused on foot fetishes—that he understood that C&C’s projects really were informational and artistic more than porn.

That wasn’t to say he wasn’t looking forward to introducing a beautiful woman to the world of BDSM—he was, especially if it was the dark-haired Latina in the pictures.

Carrying her portfolio, dressed in her best retro suit complete with real stockings, Addie entered the nondescript office building in North Hollywood. While it seemed nice enough, with discreet name plaques beside doors, a security desk and potted palms in the lobby, it was in the north part of North Hollywood. It wasn’t far from here to Van Nuys, the porn capital of the world. The proximity was reawakening Addie’s fears as to what exactly this modeling job was for.

Addie spotted a bathroom and stopped to check her appearance one last time. She’d done her hair up in big rolls with Lulu’s help that morning so she looked both professional and retro. While keeping her trademark red lipstick, she’d toned down the cat-eye eyeliner, which made her brown eyes appear rounder and softer.

She checked the placement of the wide belt and then the cute little flares at the back of her jacket to make sure they hadn’t creased in the car. With five minutes to her meeting time, she struck a few test poses.

“You can do this, Addie.” She put her hand on her hip, tipped her chin and smiled. “If it’s porn just walk out and all it cost you was gas.” Flipping to the other side, she put her fingertips on her shoulders and thrust her chest out in a pose she’d seen in an old pinup calendar.

Confident in her appearance if nothing else, Addie left the bathroom and headed for Suite 1430, which said “C&C Productions” on the plaque beside the door.

She knocked softly, then opened the door. A small waiting room with six chairs was just inside. Behind a reception desk, a hallway stretched to the left and right. A bell chimed when she walked in, and Addie wasn’t surprised to see someone appear from the left hallway seconds later.

The woman was heavyset and well dressed with a sharp haircut. If wouldn’t take much for her to look frumpy, but she looked anything but, with her hand-painted silk scarf and raw-silk suit jacket. Butterflies fluttered to life in Addie’s belly—it didn’t seem likely that this woman was recruiting girls for porn, so maybe this was her chance at another big modeling job. As much as Addie loved Lulu’s, the money she made there was usually only enough to help her get by, not get ahead, and modeling income would really help.

“Adelita?”

“Please, call me Addie.”

“I’m Helen, thank you for coming in.” Helen held out her hand and they shook. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll take you to my office.”

Behind the reception desk, right turn, down the hall and then another right into a well-appointed office. Addie perched on the edge of her chair with her portfolio on her lap, her small, hard-sided cherry clutch on top of that.

“Addie, let me first start by once again thanking you for coming in.”

“I was excited to receive your phone call.”

“That’s good to hear. The second thing I want you to know is that the other models involved in this project, who are also the writers, have agreed that you’re our missing piece.”

“I’m flattered, but I have to ask…writers?” Addie hoped she wouldn’t be expected to write anything. She hated writing.

Helen smiled. “Caught that, did you? If you do this, you’ll give those three a run for their money.” Helen stood and pulled a large book off the shelves to the left of her desk. She brought it back and placed it facedown on her blotter.

“What my company wants to produce is a book that is not only informative—hence the writing—but beautiful. It’s not an instructional book, or a guide for morons, it’s an art piece, maybe some would even call it a coffee-table book. It’s going to tell a story in both pictures and words about a world most people would never dare to be a part of.”

The fluttering in Addie’s stomach had morphed from excitement back to vague dread.

“And what is the subject of your book?” Addie asked slowly.

Their gazes met, held. “It’s BDSM.”

Addie’s breath released in a little rush and she looked own at her fingers, which were gripping her clutch bag so tightly the individual rhinestones were making impressions in the pads of her fingers.

“Do you know what that is?”

“Yes, it’s sex—
porn
—bondage, domination, uh, something else.”

“BDSM stands for bondage, domination, sadism and masochism.”

“Sadism?” Addie stood. She was trembling slightly, though she wasn’t sure if it was from the shock of hearing the seemingly innocuous Helen talk about sadism or raw anger that this was, as she expected, about porn. “Thank you very much for your time. I’m sorry, but I’m not the right person for your shoot. The photos you saw that made you call me were about lingerie. I’m not really into those things in the pictures. I’m certainly not into sadism.”

Addie turned on her heel and left Helen’s office. If she’d looked back, she might have seen Lane lurking just down the hall. If she’d waited in the lobby, she might have overheard the conversation between Lane and Helen.

“How much of that did you hear?” Helen asked.

“Most of it,” Lane said. “She didn’t reject BDSM altogether. She just was frightened by the sadism.”

“Who isn’t until they see it done right?” Helen shook her head. “I didn’t get to show her the book. She called the project porn, and if that’s how she thinks of it there’s no getting her on board now.”

“I don’t know.” Lane took the fetish book from Helen. “I’m going to talk to her. Don’t start looking for a different girl until I call you.”

“She has to be willing, Lane.”

Lane snorted. “I’m not Alton. I won’t scare her off. I just want to explain it to her, give her a chance to ask me some questions maybe.”

“Nothing related to BDSM itself—save that until there’s a camera around to capture her reactions.”

“Fine, no specifics, but I am going to ask her what she thinks it is. Did you catch that she said she wasn’t ‘really into those things’? That’s not a flat-out denial.”

“When you talk to her, make sure you explain that she’d be signing up for physical contact and some pain, but that there’s no sex, no intimacy. And show her how much we’d pay her.” Helen disappeared into her office and grabbed the modeling contract.

“Thanks.” Lane tapped the papers thoughtfully against his leg as a slow smile stretched across his mouth. “I’m going to get the girl.”

Addie hung her jacket on its padded hanger before slipping off the matching skirt. She carefully folded squares of tissue over the edges before clipping it to a hanger and putting skirt and jacket in her overflowing closet.

Wearing her bra, panties, garter and stockings, she slipped on a white silk robe painted with a stylized pinup doll on the back, a gift from an old boyfriend, and headed into the living room.

Addie’s apartment was a chaotic mix of fabric and knickknacks. She’d given up on a couch in order to make room for a craft table and sewing machines against the one wall with a window, so she dropped into the extra-large chair positioned in front of her TV. Lulu had given her the whole day off to meet with the modeling-job people.

“Modeling, my ass.” Addie picked up a vintage top from the basket beside her chair and thumbed open the little bottle of beads she’d found to match the beading on the shoulders. She’d cleaned and repaired the top, now all that was left was repairing the beadwork. When it was done she’d sell it. She could use the money…plus it was too small for her.

She was only ten beads in when there was a knock on the door. Figuring it was her neighbor, Mrs. Gardener, who liked to keep track of Addie since Mrs. Gardener’s own twenty-something grandkids were too far away for the old sweetheart to pester, Addie didn’t bother to get dressed.

She opened the door, but it wasn’t Mrs. Gardener on the other side.

A six-foot blond in a black leather jacket was leaning against the wall just outside her door.

Addie put her hand on the door, pulled it closed a little, prepared to shut it in his face if the situation went south.

“Can I help you?”

“Adelita?”

“Depends who’s asking. What do you want?”

He pushed away from the wall and stood in the doorway, invading her space. “I want to have a conversation with a pretty woman.”

“And I,” Addie put her finger in the center of his chest and pushed, “don’t trust pretty boys.”

Addie closed the door, but the man slid his foot between the door and the jamb. Addie jumped back, prepared to run for a phone and call 9-1-1 if he made a move she didn’t like.

He pushed the door open again and held up one hand. “I’m not coming in, I just thought you might like it if I didn’t say what I have to say through the door.”

Addie cocked her hip, felt the robe slide open a bit. “And what is it you have to say?”

The blond’s gaze had dropped to her breasts and the lacy bra that was peeking out from the widening slit in her robe.

“I’m working with C&C Productions.” He leaned against the doorjamb. A few locks of hair fell across his forehead as he tipped his head down and smiled at her. He was handsome, if a little too clean-cut for her taste. She liked her men to be tattooed retro gentlemen who could refurbish a car as well as they danced. This guy was frat-boy handsome all grown up and sexy, though if he was a porn star it was a clean-cut veneer over skanky man-whore interior.

“Oh.” Addie pulled her robe closed. “I already told the lady I wasn’t interested.”

“I’m one of the other models. I thought we could talk about it.”

“Listen, porn star, I’m not interested.

“I’m not a porn star. I’m a systems engineer.”

“You’re what?”

“A computer geek. It’s true. Here.” He fished his wallet from his back pocket and pulled out a business card.

Addie took a tentative step closer and accepted the card.

Lane Therres

Systems Development

AIFO Consulting

“This is really you?” She held the card up. “Lane.”

“Yep. Lane Therres. It’s nice to meet you.”

“You’re a geek consultant.” Addie was still examining the card. Everything felt out of sync, as if she were dancing a half beat off the music. The blond—Lane—was a piece that didn’t fit with the day’s admittedly strange happenings.

He laughed lightly. “That sums it up. Maybe I should have that on the cards.”

“If this is really you, what are you doing modeling for porn? I think your geek boss will be upset.”

“I rarely interface with clients, I build systems on the back end. Plus, it’s not porn. It’s art.”

“And there’s a stack of ‘art’ pictures guys conned women into taking that end up as internet porn.”

“Can I show you something?”

“If you whip out your dick, I’m calling the cops.”

“No dick.” He looked over his shoulder. “I think.”

Addie lunged for her phone. “That’s it, alpha delta porno, I’m calling the cops.”

“Alpha what? There’s no need to call the cops.”

“The catchphrase of psycho porn stars everywhere, I’m sure.
Deja.
”

“
Deja.
” He rolled the word nicely. “That means ‘leave’, doesn’t it?”

“Very good. Buh-bye then.”

Lane ducked out of the doorway for a second and reappeared holding a book. “This is all I want to show you.” It looked like the same book Helen had tried to show her.

“Strangely, you haven’t left.”

“Weird, isn’t it? Can I come in?” He didn’t wait for her answer but stepped in, closing the door behind him. He made her happily cluttered apartment seem small.

Addie picked up a stone
calavera
—skull—decorated for
Dia de los Muertos
from the shelf at her shoulder. It easily weighed five pounds. “Do you regularly force your way into women’s apartments?”