I shrugged. "She could have been a professional actress. The first time we played the scene I was absolutely convinced she was a novice, a reluctant partner, but by the end I kind of figured out the game. By the fifth or sixth time, I really started admiring her acting talent. Her distress was beautiful. She would stare and gasp while her dom put me through the paces, flogged me, made me masturbate. He'd talk to her the whole time. 'See how she does what I ask as soon as I ask it? Whatever I demand? That's what you'll do too.' Then he would make us stand together, and he'd take whatever he'd put on me and put it on her. Collars, clamps, cuffs, harnesses. Sometimes he made me put it on her instead."

He looked over at me. "You liked it."

"I got off on it a little, yeah. She played the innocent so well. I felt like her sister, her mentor."

"And you and she..." He seemed enthralled by the possibilities.

"Yeah. I would pretend to console her, soothe her while he watched. It went on from there."

"Wait, you can't just say that. What do you mean, it went on from there? Details."

I shrugged. "You know, it went on. He would dom us both then, tell us what to do to each other, make us get each other off while he watched."

"You ate her out? She ate you out?"

"Not allowed. We did other things."

"Like?"

I laughed. "There was lots of licking and sucking. Making out. We kissed and toyed with each other's tits. There was lots of grinding our horny little hips together and talking dirty."

"Oh yeah, that's good stuff." He shifted beside me. "So how did that make you feel?"

"Pretty horny, Jeremy."

"It's making me pretty horny too. Was she talented?"

"Yes. Crazy talented, a hell of a lot more talented than me. And gorgeous. Huge, perky tits, responsive nipples. I could feel them harden right under my tongue, and I'd tug on her nipple rings with my teeth." I was just teasing Jeremy now. He was all but quivering beside me. "And she had this amazing mane of long blonde hair I would twist up in my fists. Even the way she smelled was gorgeous, sort of musky and woodsy when I'd bury my face in the side of her neck."

"Go on," Jeremy breathed.

I shrugged. "Well, it was just work, you know? Ultimately the scene was between her and her dom. I was kind of beside the point."

"Just the facilitator."

"No, not at all. He was the facilitator. I was only the prop. I was always the prop, the thing people used to get off."

"'The thing people used.' Did you really think of yourself that way?"

"Yes, Jeremy, I still do. That's what I am. It's what I've made a career out of. I don't care."

His lips pursed a little, and he leaned close to me.

"I think you do care."

I looked down at my book. I really wanted to get back to Vinminen and the Maid of the North.

"What's your real name?" he asked.

"I don't tell anyone my real name."

"Why?"

"I don't know, maybe for the same reason you keep employees instead of girlfriends. Personal space."

He crossed his arms over his chest and sat back with a frown. So he didn't like that. Too bad. My real name was mine and mine only. It wasn't for use at a sex club, by a dominant, or by anyone who was paying me for my time.

"Nell is part of it, though? At least tell me that much. Nell is short for your real name?"

"Yes," I said. "I'll tell you that much. Nell is short for my real name."

"Lucynell?"

I laughed. "No."

"Janelle?"

I closed my book with a sigh and put it away. It was going to be a long, long flight.

"Danielle?"

I shook my head and leaned against the window, trying to wedge the flimsy airline pillow into some semblance of comfort.

"Here," he said with impatience. "Lean against me if you're going to try to sleep." He took my pillow and propped it against his shoulder, and I rested gratefully against his warmth and solidness. He was quiet a long time, until the hum of the airplane had nearly put me to sleep.

"Eleanor?"

I shook my head against his shoulder, and finally, somewhere over the black ocean, I fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.

Taking off had been nerve-racking, but arriving in Bangkok was completely insane. A massive press of humanity waited outside the airport: photographers, fans, crazy people yelling and gesticulating. "Jeremy Gray! Over here! Over here!" My instinct was to hang back, to hide behind someone, but Jeremy propelled me forward.

"Smile and look happy to be with me," he directed under his breath.

I was exhausted and sore from the flight, but I looked up into the wall of blinding flashes and gave what I hoped was a movie-star-girlfriend-caliber smile. The crowd converged on us, and I slowed. There was absolutely nowhere to go.

"Keep walking. Don't stop. They'll move out of the way."

He pulled me closer, guiding me through the crowds. I was jostled and pulled, and then I felt Kyle at my back, urging us both forward. "There's the car," he said.

The three of us dived into the limo, and the driver shut the door. The sudden silence was shocking after the pandemonium outside. I looked down at my hands. They were shaking.

"You okay?" Jeremy asked.

"Yes," I said. "No. I don't know. That was crazy."

I was sitting beside him, and though I wanted him to hold me, to comfort me, instead he leaned away from me, his face drawn and tired. He still looked like a movie star, even exhausted, but I thought I must look like absolute hell. Kyle rode backward, across from the two of us, wearing his usual smart-ass grin.

They talked about Jeremy's work schedule while I drifted. I watched Kyle from under my lids. We'd had a few tense conversations since our rendezvous at my apartment. I flat out hated the man, but the vibe I got from him was more that of a jealous friend. I suppose he'd been Jeremy's golden go-to pal until I got thrown into the mix.

I watched Kyle lean forward and explain the hotel arrangements. There was something between them that struck me. A closeness. No. It couldn't be. Jeremy was straight as an arrow. But it was a little weird, the way they talked to each other. The way they worked so easily together. As if they shared some kind of intimate connection. To be honest, I suspected Kyle wasn't totally straight. The man had highlights in his hair, for God's sake. He was a flaming metrosexual, and looking at his tight, sexy body and supermodel face... I suppose someone as sexy as that could swing just about any way he wanted to. If I'd learned anything the last few days, it was that anything was possible in the world of the rich.

But no. No. No. Kyle was his personal assistant, that was the only reason they seemed so close.

Kyle looked over at me then, and I quickly looked away, but not before I saw it again, that same look. Jealousy. A moment later he was looking at Jeremy. Jeremy didn't notice. His face was propped on his hand as he stared out the window. My own eyes started to close. I was too tired to analyze it anymore.

"How far to the hotel?" I asked.

I don't remember any answer. The next thing I knew, I was in Jeremy's arms in an elevator, the beat of his heart against my ear. Then I vaguely remember him carrying me down the hall to our hotel suite and laying me in bed.

When I woke fully rested, I realized to my chagrin that it was night again, nearly ten. I was still wearing my jeans and top from the flight, and my shoes were arranged beside the bed. I was alone in a beautifully appointed hotel room, my suitcases stacked in the corner beside a tufted armchair, a bureau, and a huge decorative vase. There were two paintings and a small desk on the other wall, and a door that opened to the bathroom. The other door, I assumed, let out to the main room of the suite.

So I would have my own room. I lay back on the starched white sheets and pulled the coverlet up. I was wide awake, and the long, dark night stretched ahead of me. It was utterly silent. Jeremy was either away or sleeping or engaged in some activity that made no noise at all. There was no window in my room, which made it feel strangely confining, even though the door was open wide.

I got out of bed with a sigh and ran my hands through my unruly hair. A trip to the luxurious, mirror-walled bathroom revealed that I looked just as bad as I thought I did.

A shower was in order. I went to my suitcase and dug out a pair of the formfitting pajamas Jeremy bought me before we left. Fortunately, they were as comfortable as they were sheer and sexy. I went back into the bathroom, which we apparently would be sharing, since his things were spread out on one side of the counter and his toiletries were in the shower.

I stared at them as the hot water ran over me. Jeremy's soap, Jeremy's exfoliating face wash, Jeremy's shampoo and conditioner right there next to mine. Surreal.

It still felt great to get clean, to shave and wash and just stand in the steam and steep. I probably showered for twenty minutes or more, then got out and dried off with a lovely, fluffy thick towel. No thin, sandpaper-like hotel towels at this place. I put on the pajamas, which left nothing to the imagination, and considered the spa robes hanging on the wall. They didn't say His or Hers anywhere, and neither looked as if it had been worn, so I chose the one closest to me and wrapped up in it.

Taking a deep breath, I went out to the main room, feeling like I was trespassing in someone's house. It was quite large, with a dining area and kitchenette on one side, and a sitting area on the other side with an overstuffed sofa and chairs and a wide-screen television mounted on the wall. It was a lot like Jeremy's mansion, beautifully decorated, only compacted into one oversize room. Beside my bedroom was another door, which I assumed led to Jeremy's room.

I crossed between the sitting and dining area to the opposite wall, which was one huge window from ceiling to floor. I felt like tiptoeing. I didn't belong here. It was too rich, too fine. As I reached the window wall, I looked down and then jumped back with a gasp.

We were high up. We were high up. I'd never been so high in the air in any building ever, and I felt a sudden panic in my chest, a sick feeling in my stomach. If there's a fire...

"Nell."

I spun with a stifled yelp, clutching my chest.

"Oh God. You scared me."

He stood in the door to his bedroom, sexy man in loose pajama bottoms and no top. He was sculpted like a statue, all pecs and six-pack and biceps enough to make a girl go wild. I was caught between the sudden stab of lust between my legs and the sick, lingering panic at how high up I was.

"What's wrong?" he asked. It was so, so quiet in the room. He didn't move, didn't cross to me.

"It's so high. This room... This hotel..."

"Eighty-fifth floor." He smiled. "Don't worry, though. Hotels almost never fall over."

"It's just so high. God, it's beautiful, though."

He came to stand at the window beside me, looking out at the urban lights and miles of buildings in every direction. "Welcome to Bangkok, your home for the next four weeks. You didn't see much of it from the limo last night."

"Yes. I'm sorry I fell asleep. I was so tired." I looked down self-consciously. "I guess you had to carry me drooling and limp to the room."

He laughed. "It wasn't a problem. You didn't drool much. And you're a little slip of a thing."

"And you work out." I slid a look over at his golden, heavily muscled torso. "That's pretty clear."

"Are you flirting with me?"

"Is that allowed?"

"It's encouraged." He laughed and moved a hand up into my wet hair. He began to knead my nape with skilled fingers. He had no idea what it did to me...or maybe he did.

"Are you cold?" he asked.

"A little. Not too much."

"I'd like you to take the robe off then, if you don't mind."

His tone was like a cold bucket of water washing over me. For a minute it had almost felt romantic between us, but no, he was still my boss. I took the robe off and held it in my hands, the submissive now.

"Go and hang it in the bathroom. I've ordered us some dinner. It should be here soon."

I crossed to do as he told me, knowing full well that his gaze was glued to my ass as I left the room, and to my boobs as I returned. My nipples were hard, poking through the practically transparent cotton of the cami top. He finally met my eyes after staring his fill at my tits.

"I like that look on you. Sleepy pajama girl. We'll both have to try to sleep later, to get ourselves back on schedule, but we'll eat first. You must be hungry."

"I am."

"A little dinner, and then some sex. A nice involved scene to tire us both out a bit."

"Yes, Jeremy," I said, my clit already throbbing. There was something about a half-naked, Adonis-like man letting you know he planned to use you for sex sometime soon.

I was starving, though, I realized. Yes. Food first.

As if on cue, room service arrived with a cartful of late-night goodies. Pizza and salads, exactly what I was hungry for. There was also cold American beer in a silver engraved cooler. We sat at one end of the large, rectangular table, and he dived into the pizza nice and messy like a real man, not the refined movie star he sometimes pretended to be.

"I didn't know they had pizza on the menu in Bangkok," I said, watching him chew and take a deep drink of his beer.

He shrugged. "Everything's on the menu in Bangkok, if you have money. They sent out for the pizza, I think. It's good. Have some."

I took a slice and bit into it hesitantly. It was so delicious, I almost moaned. "It tastes like New York pizza."

"Doesn't it, though? You know me," he said, looking me up and down. "I don't like to go without the comforts of home, no matter where I am."

"Are you flirting with me?" I blushed, my food forgotten. The way he was looking at me...

"Come here."

As soon as I was near enough, he pulled me astride his lap. He toyed with my nipples through the thin material of the pink lacy camisole. Of course, they stood at attention the moment he passed his fingertips over them.