Playing a Little (8 page)

“Truthfully, this is the first time I am working under the gun, too. With a script, we know how to respond to the other players. It is predetermined and there are no surprises. It makes it much easier to maintain a professional distance. With what we are doing, though, the idea is to not be burdened by professionalism and to allow human nature to dictate our character involvement,” Erik said, gently stroking her calf. “I will admit that I am also concerned about my own feelings. I don’t want to expose my heart any more than you do, but we have to in order to be genuine. That is what Arthur envisions this piece to show and he wants nothing less than raw truth. But, both personally and professionally, I do accept the risk of being exposed and vulnerable as needed to see this through. Worst-case scenario is that you and I become close friends.”

“Or we grow to hate each other,” she sighed. “I am sorry to be so blunt in my naivety. Erik?”

“What, baby?”

“Do you ever consider that there is a chance that… never mind.” She stopped her question, looking away from him in embarrassment. She felt his hand cup her chin, forcing her to look into his warm, blue eyes.

“That I could be interested in you other than as a costar? Yes, which is why I am also afraid. You are everything I could ever want in a woman and more.”

“I really am having a difficult time believing that you are telling me the truth. Seriously, you are the one and only Erik Renault. How do I know you aren’t putting on a show for me? Telling me what you think I want to hear.”

“You don’t. Only time will prove my sincerity. Like I told Stan, for all I know, you will never want to lay eyes on me after we are done here. But that is the chance I am willing to take. But until you accept the wonderful things about yourself, and know what you add to a relationship, I have to try to guard my own heart.”

“You have your pick of any beautiful, successful woman you could want. Why me?” Camille felt another heavy tear drip down her face.

“Because you are unspoiled by your beauty. You are real, natural, and responsive to the tiniest touch. I can guide you in a way that others will not allow. This,” he gestured to her clothing, “is something I desire in my life. I can train you from the beginning in what I enjoy, at the same time teaching you how to grow in yourself.”

“I’m not that compliant,” Camille wrinkled her nose. “I have somewhat of a stubborn streak in me.”

“I know,” Erik smiled, “which makes it so much more enjoyable. If you haven’t guessed, I like to spank.”

“You are weird.”

“Yep, and that is not ever going to change. You accepted this role knowing this. Why? Do you deny that something inside of you is intrigued by the thought of being bare-bottomed over my knee?”

“You are embarrassing me.”

“Get over it. Answer me and be honest. And get used to looking at me when we talk about uncomfortable issues. Watch my eyes. You won’t ever see any judgment or mockery in them.”

“That is easy for you to say. I want to just climb under a rock.”

“Then I will pull you out by your ponytail. Answer me. Are you intrigued with the thought of me paddling your bare bottom? Of being forced to lie across my knees and be exposed to my view?”

Camille’s face burned with embarrassment as she forced herself to meet his eyes. He was right. They were filled with warmth, patience, and understanding. She took a deep breath. “Okay, yes. It started with that scene we did when I was twelve… it never left my mind. It made me feel warm inside, like someone actually cared. Especially when you held me after and told me to call if I ever needed you. I mean, if Pippi ever needed you. That part was not in the script.”

“I know,” Erik laughed. “If I recall, the script read that you jumped off my lap and kicked me in the shin. I was even wearing shin guards to protect myself. You didn’t, though. Why?”

“I told the writer that it was inconsistent with the character of Pippi. She was supposed to be the strongest girl in the world, and she would have broken your leg,” Camille shrugged.

“The truth, Miss Cami. I can tell when you are fibbing.”

“Geesh! It was because I wanted to be held like that. I wanted… I needed to believe that someone loved me, even though it was make-believe.”

“It was make-believe then, but not now. Would you like me to hold you like a little girl again?”

Camille hesitated before nodding. Erik easily pulled her onto his lap, cradling her lovingly in his arms as he eased her against his broad chest. He rested his lips on top of her head and gently began to rock, singing quietly into her hair. Camille found herself curling deeper into his embrace and he leaned back against the comfortable couch and began to stroke the side of her face. The last thing Camille remembered before she drifted to sleep was the warm beam of mid-morning sunlight that gently warmed her cheek.

Erik opened his eyes, his nostrils filled with the fresh scent of Camille’s hair. Strawberry. He carefully shifted her in his arms and gazed down upon her sleeping face. Her pink lips were slightly parted and her cheeks still had the sweet remnants of baby fat, making her look so much younger than her tender year of nineteen. He kissed her forehead and closed his eyes, thinking of how he had been living his life before he met her.

He had always been interested in older women. Their maturity, lack of inhibitions, knowledge of what they wanted in their lives held a great attraction for him. Several had young children, and he found himself enjoying playtime as much as the little ones. He loved their laughter, their freedom, their innocence, and longed for a time when he could have experienced the same. Like Camille, he had been a child star and had been forced to mature before his time because of the responsibility that came with his job. Sadly, he could count the times he remembered laughing on one hand. Arthur had been good to him, but treated him as an adult in most circumstances. No, the freedom of childhood had never been an option for the solemn boy.

He was submitted into foster care at three years old by his single mother. He had been a precocious child, always into something mischievous, and a true challenge for the homes he had been sent to. Lack of a stable, solid foundation led to him having a tremendous amount of anger and he would often get into fights with his foster siblings, or disappear for long periods of time as he explored new neighborhoods with the hopes of finding a place he could call his own. He was also considered ‘pretty,’ which increased the degree of teasing he encountered as he grew older. Even though he was tall for his age, his lanky build made him the favorite target for bullies. He learned to fight to defend himself, unfortunately using whatever he could grab as a weapon. The last time, before he was shipped to the final family, he had grabbed a wooden plank and beat his aggressor senseless.

His only salvation was that his assailant had a juvenile record of assault and battery, and the courts allowed one last opportunity to be placed under the condition that he was to be kept under strict supervision. There were four other siblings in the little house, all much younger than he, which kept the foster parents too busy to notice his disappearances. Then he met Arthur, a grouchy old director who seemed to believe that the boy had something that no one else had seen. Arthur had given him a second chance at life and had made him successful as both a man and an actor. And now, thanks to his old mentor, he had a chance for real happiness with the woman of his dreams. And he would never had known that it was her, except for this movie.

Camille had been right when she said he could have had any woman he wanted. The problem was he’d never known what he wanted until he met her. She was unbothered by his stardom. In fact, she was completely disinterested in him as a celebrity. Her low self-esteem made her shy and nonintrusive, and her lack of vanity was something which he found beguiling and mysterious. She was smart, funny, and painfully honest with herself, another trait which he found lacking among the typical female he had been involved with. He loved that she knew her weaknesses and fears, and that she would accept them as part of her character. She was not afraid to learn and grow, and her humility touched his heart deeply.

“Uncle Erik?” Camille said sleepily. “I’m hungry.”

Her addressing him in character surprised him. He smiled down at her tiny frame and hugged her gently. “I’ll get us some lunch. Is there anything you won’t eat?”

“Most people ask what I like,” she grumbled, sitting up straight and stretching. “Your back must be killing you after holding me so long.”

“Not at all and it was only an hour. I happened to have been very comfortable, I will have you know. Now, what won’t you eat?”

“Lima beans, Brussels sprouts, and liver. Yuck to all of those,” she shuddered. “Oh, and creamed corn. I
hate
creamed corn.”

“Shame, because I love it. I even make it myself. Hey, don’t look so surprised. I can cook.”

“Where did you learn?”

“Arthur taught me. Two single guys needed to eat, and takeout got old real fast. He wasn’t always rolling in dough like he is today. How about gourmet hot dogs?”

“Hot dogs? I thought you were a health nut,” Camille smiled as he stood.

“It is my little secret. I love junk food, but the tabloids don’t know it. Gotta give the public what they want, you know. Well? Are you up for it?”

“I love hot dogs. Yeah.”

“Then you stay there and I will bring us a tray. Be a good girl,” Erik said, brushing a kiss to her mouth. His keen eye did not miss her raising her hand to her lips, lightly touching the place where his lips had caressed hers.

The two laughed playfully, trying to outdo one another on ‘decorating their dogs,’ as Erik put it. He had loaded every condiment available on the tray, including pickles, onions, chips, jalapeños, olives, green peppers, and sliced pepperoncini. He leaned forward, wiping ketchup off Camille’s chin as she bit heartily into her feast.

“You are making a mess, little girl.”

“I guess I am. Does that mean I get to take a bubble bath in the giant tub?” Camille asked hopefully.

“The tub in my room? House rule,” he ignored her groan, “no baths in that tub without me. Sorry, kiddo.”

“That’s not fair.”

“I am going to buy you a t-shirt with that saying on it. You have a bathtub in your room. It’s not as big but nice and deep.”

“What if I want to go in the big tub without you?” Camille asked slyly.

“Then you will be getting yourself a spanking for not minding me. Your choice.”

Camille grunted, pouting as she crossed her arms. She was unaware of the ketchup and relish that had smeared onto her cheek, or the piece of onion on her dress. Erik patted her thigh.

“Finished? Good. We might as well get this done with, kiddo. Bath time.”

“The big…”

“No. And stop pouting. I am not going to say it again, Camille.”

“You’re mean. I can walk. My ankle is okay… hey!”

Erik lifted her from the couch and carried her through the maze of bridges to her room, which was attached to his by a short walkway. He sat her on the rocking chair as he went to draw her bath, contemplating how to introduce the next phase to her.

“Your bath is ready,” he said as he laid out a long, flannel nightgown on the bed. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

“Let’s…? Oh, no way! Erik!”

“I am going to be seeing you naked every day, so you need to get used to the idea. You are my little, and it is my job to care for you. I promised I would not take advantage of you. Arms up.”

“No fucking way, mister!”

“I do not like your mouth. No swearing.”

“I refuse to allow you to see me naked. I don’t care about the damn contract. This crosses the line.”

“Do you remember our conversation about what this would entail and what I expected from you? I gave you the option to rescind and you refused. I was very specific too.”

“No! I changed my mind.”

Erik shook his head, his patience dwindling. “That option had expired. Now, I am going to count to three and…”

“I said fuck
no
!” Camille yelled out, kicking his shin. “Let me go!” she yelled as he grabbed her arm and pulled her across his lap. A loud swat, followed by an even louder
ow
filled the room.

“House rules,” he said firmly, smacking her panty-clad backside again, “no swearing.”

“Fuck your house rules! Let me go!”

“I warned you,” Erik said calmly, peeling the cotton panties away from her luscious, pale bottom. He captured her hands and held them to her side before she could cover herself from his view. “For the time that we are here, missy, this bottom belongs to me. Got it?”

“Owwieee!” Camille howled as his hand planted two strong smacks upon her bare flesh.

“I promised that I would not take advantage of you,” he spanked her again, admiring how quickly the snowy skin turned red, “and you agreed to trust me. This is how things are going to be. Am I understood?”

“Please stop, Uncle Erik. Please! Yes! Yes! I’m sorrrrrryyyy,” Camille begged, breaking into tears as he continued to spank her, his hand traveling to her rounded curves right above her thighs. She kicked and struggled against him, unaware that her panties had flown off and she was showing him everything that she was desperately trying to hide.

“Are you going to listen to me without arguing?” he asked, swatting her left cheek.

“Yesssssss, sir! I promise!”

“Are you ever going to swear again?” His hand impacted with a crack upon her right cheek, making her yelp with pain.

“No, sir! Please, Uncle Erik, I’ll be a good girl. I’ll be good!”

“Very well. I will take your word for it.” Erik said softly, resting his hand atop the smoldering flesh of her buttocks. They were beautiful, round, and red as the sunset, quivering delightfully under his hand as the heat radiated from their surface. He stood her between his knees and looked at her sternly. “You made a promise and I expect you to keep it. Did you like that spanking?”

“Noooo,” Camille whimpered, reaching behind to rub her bottom.

“Then I supposed you aren’t looking for another one anytime soon, are you?”