His Dark Secret - Part 1 (Erotic Romance Serial Novel) (9 page)

His way of doing things, his
assessment of my own sexual desires, intrigued and excited me, especially when
we were together. But thinking it over, the idea of giving myself over to a man
that did not love me was hard to accept. Whether or not I was in love with
Scott, it was too complicated, too soon to tell.

“How much better is it when they
love you?” a dark voice spoke from the back of my mind. I thought of Jamison,
back in Elgin. He had loved me, and I had loved him throughout our time
together. Those first years together, back in high school, it had been easy, wonderful
even. Hanging out with our friends, finding times to sneak off and be alone
with each other had been exciting, wonderful.

I remembered our first time
together and how starkly different it had been than my first time with Scott.
Awkwardly we had fumbled to get our clothes off, his coarse hands pawing at me.
It had hurt, but it was good knowing that we could share this together. We
eventually got the hang of things, and I could honestly enjoy myself being
caressed by Jameson. But it was nothing like being with Scott. The desire there
was of a different kind. It went beyond the privilege of possessing my body; it
was the desire to share a life with me.

When I went away to college, I
felt lost, afraid to be away from him. Consistently we kept in touch, writing,
calling when the time allowed. I was jealous of the couples on campus, able to
be together whenever they wanted.

When Jameson would come to visit,
I would feel a great burden lifting from my chest. Each time, he would lift me
up, holding me tightly to his chest, and I felt safe encompassed within him.

But what had all those moments
added up to in the end? For all the love we had, our relationship had turned
bitter. Jameson resented everything college had given me and I couldn’t endure
his torments any longer. Even apart, hiding away in the back towns of Iowa, I
loved him, was scared of how much I loved him after all he had put me through.
My love for him had cost me so much, I was afraid to meet anyone new. In my
time alone, whenever pursued by a customer or a coworker, I was quick to stave
them off.

Then Scott comes along and I give
over to his arrangement of sexual domination. No attachment, only the surrender
to our desires.

Maybe this is the best that I can
do, I thought. Love, the true love of everlasting happiness, is meant only for
a special few. And I am not one of them. But sex is universal. In a purely
sexual relationship, Scott and I can enjoy our time without the pretense of our
emotions. The chance of us falling love is nonexistent, so why try to change
things? This arrangement would be the best way to explore my new concept of
relationships, and who better a teacher than Scott Rushmand?

There was still the issue of the
sex tape. For all his assurances, I didn’t want the least chance of another
getting out to the public. It may be all right for him, he may be able to
handle the attention, but I didn’t want to go through another week like this
past one, hiding away in my bedroom, waiting for the world to forget me.

I was thinking of the event
earlier in the trailer, when I had, if only for a moment, exerted something
unexpected on Scott. My cell started ringing, jolting me from my thoughts. It
was a private number, which was enough to tell me who was on the other side.

“I was just thinking about you.
After last time, I didn’t expect you to call so soon.”

“The girl does have a sense of
humor. Listen, I’m freed up tonight and was wondering whether you wanted to
have dinner with me.”

“That sounds nice. Where at?”

“I’ll have things prepared here at
the suite. Do you have a car?”

“No. But I can find my way if you
give me a refresher on the directions.”

I showered and changed into a new
outfit: a white blouse and black pants that Jenny had helped me select a few
weeks back. I packed extra change of clothes before checking myself in the
mirror again. The outfit was exactly how I wanted to be: casual, but not overly
laid back. At the last minute I remembered to leave a note for Jenny, posting
it up next hers, explaining I’d probably be away for the night, with details to
follow the next day.

Riding the elevator up, I didn’t
know what to expect. I knocked on the door to the suite and Scott called out
that it was open, so I let myself in. The suite smelled of fresh lemon and
spices, and the constant bubble of a pot was punctuated by the sound of
somebody working the chopping board. The image of Scott sitting comfortably on
his couch, sipping a dark red wine while white clad chef prepared our meal
sprang to mind. Rounding the corner, I found my assumption was off. Scott was
alone, dressed in blue jeans and a white t-shirt, a kitchen towel thrown over
his shoulder. I set my bag down and grabbed one of the counter stools to see
what he was preparing. He didn’t raise his eyes, all concentration on the work
at hand.

With concise, quick strokes, he
sliced up a dozen or so button mushrooms that he threw into a lightly oiled
pan, letting them sauté until they were a golden brown. Finished with these, he
piled them into the churning pot, which I saw contained multicolored risotto.
Next some cilantro was diced and into the pot it went. Next he grabbed a pack
of chicken breast from the fridge, slapping each one onto the board to slice
away the fat. The cuts were clean, professional. These were placed into a glass
pan, drizzled with olive oil and lemon juice, and lightly sprinkled with salt
and pepper before being slid into the oven. A few dashes of spices, which he
grabbed from the cupboard without looking, went into the pot before he stopped to
take a breath. I clapped.

“What’s that for?”

“I didn’t know you could cook.”

“I’m pretty good at number of
things, as you know.”

I let this comment slide, pushing
on.

“Where did you learn to cook like
that?”

“My parents taught me. Do you want
some wine?”

“Sure.”

He grabbed a bottle, wrapping it
in the towel before uncorking it. He grabbed two glasses, pouring into each
without spilling a single drop. His presentation was perfectly rehearsed. We
moved to the living room, sitting on the couch. The wine was tart, dry,
refreshing. Scott continued.

“My parents had a passion for
food, Italian, French, Japanese, you name it and they could cook it. They ran a
joint called Castiglione. Some of my earliest memories are in the kitchen. Dad
used to joke that mom would breast-feed me while working the grill. I must have
worked every job in that place from about the time I could start walking:
dishwasher, busboy, line cook, bookkeeper.”

“Why aren’t you running the family
business now?”

“I could have. When I graduated
high school, I could have moved on to some of the best culinary schools. But
there was a reason that I got to work so many positions at the family
restaurant. We were going under. Even if you have the best cooks working under
you, if you haven’t got a head for business, you’re not going to make it in the
culinary world. My parents, they worked so hard, but were barely getting by.
That wasn’t what I wanted and I told them as much. They weren’t happy about
this, so I left home, got a flat of my own.

“As a teenager, I’d been spending
less and less time in the kitchen. When I really wanted to get away from
everything, I went to the movies. I’d watch anything while I was there,
fantasy, romances, comedies, didn’t matter, just as long as I wasn’t thinking about
home. Through high school, my friends and I would fool around with the camera,
throw together costumes, and make our own little scripts. Kid stuff for the
most part, but we got good at it. Gary was there from the beginning, you know.
Known each other since we were kids. After leaving home, I called him up with a
proposition: make a go at it with the movies. We had the talent and the
creativity; we were already in the home of the industry, so why not just make
them ourselves. Those first few years, I thought I had made a huge mistake. We
were struggling more than Castiglione had. Worse since we weren’t making money.
We were working third shift jobs by night, trying to film during the day. If we
ever slept, it wasn’t for more than a few hours at a time. But it would count
for something in the end, once we were rich. How’s the wine?”

I was thrown off by the
interruption in his story. I stammered, “Very good actually. Like nothing I’ve
ever tasted.”

He smiled. “Good. That’s what I
hoped. Hold here for a second.”

He crossed to the kitchen,
checking the pot, the oven. The smell of the chicken in oil wafted over the
room. Scott returned to his seat.

“Just about ready.” He took a sip
of his wine. “I hope you didn’t eat before coming here. I couldn’t decide whether
it was too late for dinner.”

“I didn’t but I would have come
anyway.”

“Well isn’t that something.”

“So what happened with your
movies? What changed?”

“Oh right, well we were living in
this desperate kind of hope at this point. We swayed back and forth from utter
despair to a driven madness, thinking we were on the verge of really making it.
Gary would come in each week, new script in hand, saying ‘This is it, Scott,
this is the one to break us through.’ Of course none of them were. We had a bit
of a local following, but were still unnoticed by the big studios.”

He smiled at this point, his eyes
glazed with memory.

“It was the stupidest fucking
thing. Wasn’t even one of our best-written scripts. But we loved it, and
thought it would be a ball to shoot, to step back from trying to break in for a
while. This campy horror movie,
Mirror Woods
. We got our regular actors
to be in it, used the same equipment, and even brought in some new guys to do
creature effects and costumes with us. Learned a good deal during that
production. We were working on nothing, but we were having fun. Something
clicked. Maybe it was just the right time for a movie like that. We got noticed
at film festivals, were winning awards. ‘Reinventing the genre,’ was one of the
reviews. And that was when the offers started coming in. I worked for a number
of studios directing after that, but what I really wanted was something of my
own. Gary and I and all of the old crew got back together, pooled together our
resources, and founded Mythic Studios.”

Scott blinked a bit, the
excitement receding into the cool mask of his face. “I think the food should be
ready.”

He got up quickly, bringing our
glasses to the table. I sat down, and waited as he served up the chicken,
risotto, and a salad that had been chilling in the fridge. Everything was
perfect, presented on the plate in the best fashion. And it tasted even better.
The chicken was tangy and moist, the risotto smooth and earthy with the
mushrooms, and the salad was refreshing. After a few mouthfuls, I looked across
at Scott.

“This is impressive.”

He wiped his mouth, raised his
hands as if to wave off the compliment.

“Nothing special at all.”

“Well I’d like to see what is
special, because this is truly amazing.”

I set down my knife and fork and
picked up my glass of wine, dissecting Scott with my gaze.

“You take great care in everything
you do.”

“I should think so.”

“I think you really do. You made
this dinner, it is beautiful, it tastes great, and I know that it got this way
because you enjoyed making it. You do the same with your movies don’t you?”

It was his turn to put me under a
scalpel stare.

“What makes you say that? How many
of my movies have you seen?”

“Few actually. I’m not familiar
with a whole lot of films these days. But I’ve worked on one of your films and
I’ve seen the attention to detail that has been put in. Now
Chimera
, I
have only seen the parts of the script that involved my own work. Honestly, my
guess is that this movie could be terrible or really great. I don’t have the
knowledge to judge that. But I’ve seen the set. I’ve seen the costumes and the
props. As an extra, I was given this dagger that had so much detail put into
it, I was genuinely surprised.”

I couldn’t read Scotts look as he
stared into his wine glass. “You’re lucky to work on a film I believe in. This
one is a bit of a pet project for me. If I think a movie is going to make us
money, I put in a little bit more on it. If I really love what the film does, I
get my best people to create the world for me. Luckily
Chimera
satisfies
both of these criteria. If I could, I would spend all my time making movies
that I love, that I could spend all of my time on. Like the ones I used to
watch as kid, where even if the cast and crew were working with absolutely
nothing, they did their best to keep you from knowing that; did their best to
suspend your disbelief, and completely immerse you in the moment of the film.”