"I thought I scared you off for good last night," he said.

"Jury's still out on that one," she admitted. "But-"

Blue eyes. Dark hair. And so tall...several inches over six feet at the very least. Her breath quickened at the sight of him, adrenaline pumping through her veins. She felt almost as if she'd already slept with this new, dominant Ian, since he'd starred in her masturbatory fantasy last night. Ironic since the sex they had together when they dated was very missionary and non-fantasy-inducing.

Seeing him now, it seemed clear why their relationship failed, despite their feelings for each other. Perhaps he left because he wanted to do things to her, whip her, hurt her...and he never breathed a word about it. He had let her go without even asking if she'd want to try his kink.

Grace stood rooted in one spot directly between her car and the studio. Between safety and security and something slippery and dangerous and unaccountably desirable.

"But you wanted to see for yourself." He looked different, taller perhaps. Like he didn't regret finally coming clean about his new career, his new life.

"I drank too much wine last night." She blushed. "I don't know why I thought it would be a good idea to show up. I-" Grace turned around helplessly and started back toward her car.

"You did knock, right?" Ian asked pointedly.

"I did." Screw it. Let him see he couldn't scare her off with...whatever it was he was into now. He had made a mistake leaving her with no explanation. Turning back to face him, she strode toward the door and stepped inside the studio before she could change her mind. "I didn't hear anything inside so I thought you were closed or something."

"The building is pretty well soundproofed."

Of course. That made sense. But... "Then why do you gag the girls?"

"Because," he said, standing over her, his muscles apparent under his ubiquitous tight black T-shirt. "It turns me on."

"Oh." The word came out like a gasp, not at all as she intended. She laughed nervously and tugged on the hem of her denim cutoffs, wishing she'd worn something less revealing. "I had no idea you were into this stuff when we dated."

"I never told you." He paused, as if he wanted to say more, but just shook his head. "Tell me the truth-are you here to see me, or to judge me?"

"I not judging you. At least, I'm trying not to. But you finally tell me after all this time that you left me for this-" she gestured around her, "I have a right to see what it's all about."

"Damn." He grinned and she laughed, getting a glimpse of the Ian she had come so close to falling for in the past. "I can't believe it's really you, here. You look good. Even better than I remember." He reached out his hand as if to brush away some stray hair, but pulled back at the last moment.

She pushed her hair back herself. "Thank you. You look good too. Different, though."

"Everything's different, Grace. And I suppose you do have a right to see what I'm about now."

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" she wanted it to sound tough, like she didn't care really, but it came out quiet and almost plaintive.

"We have catching up to do, but now's not the time," he replied. "Excuse the expression-but what's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this? Why not meet me for drinks?"

"You would never have done that," she reminded him.

"I might have reconsidered our rule about not seeing each other if you had responded to my text the same way you had responded when you thought I was gay."

She frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Before I could tell you I was a Dom, you texted me and said we were still friends-that you didn't care if I was gay. But when I said wasn't gay, that I was Dom, you...you didn't really respond."

"You didn't even give me a chance to decide for myself if I was...um, into whatever. BDSM."

His expression proved she was right about that. As far as he knew, she didn't belong in his world. Was there anything she could do to change that impression? Did she even want to?

"Grace, it's great seeing you again, but I'm at work. I can't rehash our relationship and the last three years without you in the next ten minutes."

Ouch. "I didn't only come to see you," she said primly. "After seeing what you did to those girls I wanted to meet them for myself-"

"I didn't do anything to those girls. We played together. It's not just me randomly tying up some unwilling person and beating on them. It's mutual. Safe, sane, consensual, got it?"

"Well then, are any of those other girls here?"

"Not yet. Ricardo's on a call in the back office, though."

"Ricardo?"

"The set manager. Don't get on his bad side-he and his wife own the business," he said, gesturing around the building. It looked like a dungeon, with several areas filled with different...stations?...for scenes to be played out. Various implements and bondage gear, ropes, gags, metal things that looked positively dangerous, hung on the walls near each area.

"Looks a bit different from when I used to visit you at work."

He laughed, flashing bright white teeth and the expensive orthodontia from his adolescence. He took her trembling right hand in his and held it, their first physical contact in way too long. She missed this...she missed him. But was it the old Ian she still held a flame for, or this sexy new one who sparked a new, hotter burn deep inside her?

"Being a lawyer was great training for this job, believe it or not," he said. "As the Dom for the scenes, I do a lot of negotiating, playing. I'm the one who-"

"Holds the whip," she finished for him. "Sorry. Didn't mean to interrupt."

"Grace, be straight with me. What on earth are you really doing here?"

"I'm checking on the girls to see if they want to be here."

"No, I don't think you are." His words were clipped. "You came to see me-but this is not the time or the place."

The flush rising through her meant she was blushing, she knew it. Damn. Plan C it was, then. "Well, then, I came to audition. Maybe. Can you show me around?"

Ian gave her an unreadable look. "You came to audition."

"Yes. Maybe. I don't know."

"Turn around."

"Wh-what? Why?"

His voice softened. "I want to see something. Turn around."

Grace obeyed, feeling like she was turning her back on a predator with long sharp teeth. Her heart fluttered in her chest in anticipation.

"Grab your ankles."

Grace's panties dampened at his words, and she started to slowly bend over, readjusting her purse over her shoulder. Wait. What was she doing? She stood up so quickly that as she whirled back around she swooned, reaching her arm out to steady herself-and feeling only rock-hard muscle as her hand landed on Ian's chest.

"Sorry," she said, but didn't move her hand. "Orthostatic hypotension. I mean, head rush."

Ian only smiled in return, gently removing her hand from his chest. "You're not submissive. You've never done this before, and we both know it. Maybe you are here to see the other women," he mused. "You don't look particularly hungry."

"Hungry?" The word slipped out even as she realized what he meant. He thought she needed money, or rather, he thought she didn't.

Just then the front door opened, letting in a rush of humid air and blinding sunlight, along with Nikki-the girl from the video.

Nikki blinked at Grace as if in confusion. "What's she doing here?" she asked Ian. "Is Ricardo hiring girls again? He knows I need as many scenes as I can get."

Grace's mouth went dry. She hadn't planned this very well. "Um, hi Nikki. I know your name from your work. Very...nicely done. So..."

"What are you doing here?" she repeated, walking over to her.

"I'm...here to audition." Grace wished her voice could be as strong as Nikki's right then, but her words came out a near-whisper. "Or, I could help you find another job if you're not happy here."

"Let me get this straight," Nikki said, nodding over to Ricardo-the owner-as he emerged from his back office. "You want to 'help' the poor little cam-whore find a job but you think that you might want to give it a go? Really? Do I have fucking idiot tattooed on my forehead?"

Suddenly the full breadth of Grace's stupidity came crashing down on her. Who on earth did she think she was to barge into a place of business on an unasked mission to save someone who didn't want-or need-saving?

If that was all she wanted, she could have placed an anonymous phone call and had the place checked out by professionals. Grace wouldn't even know what to look for if she tried. What had she expected? That she'd walk out of here with a tattered group of beaten girls ready to go out into the sun and find "real" jobs?

It was clear that everything on the set was fine. Nikki did have a "real" job, and that job deserved her respect, just as Grace wanted to be respected for her work at the doctor's office.

"Y-you looked like you enjoyed working here," Grace said, her eyes down. "I watched the videos. I know what you do."

Ricardo clapped his hands twice, as if to gather their attention. He was shorter than Ian, but had a similar muscular build. He was dressed in a button-down shirt and tie, as if he had a business meeting to attend later. For all she knew, he did.

"Listen to me, young lady," Ricardo said. "We're an onboard, legitimate company, capiche? We jump through every single hoop we have to stay that way. But what we don't do is play around with spontaneous visits from Good Samaritans who have absolutely no idea about consensual BDSM play when they see it. I don't need you watching us shoot and then running to the cops with some bullshit about abuse or sexual slavery or whatever the hell you think it is we do down here."

"You tell her, Ricardo," Nikki chimed in.

Grace shrugged as if none of it mattered anyway, hoping they wouldn't notice her trembling hands. "That was never my intention. I'm very sorry for the intrusion. I'll just be on my w-"

"She said she came to audition," Ian interrupted. "I say we let her."

Nikki laughed. "You-audition? Do you even know what that means at a place like this?"

Grace shook her head.

"Well," Ian placed his hand on her lower back, right above where her shorts rested on her hips. "Would you like to find out?"

Yes. But the word hung on her lips, unspoken. Instead she stood very still, focusing all of her attention on the large, warm hand on the small of her back. Ian's hand. How could something so gentle make those marks on Nikki? On those other girls?

"Come over here," Ian said, leading her with an almost imperceptible pressure from his fingers. She walked over to the empty area with him, attached to him it seemed, as if their bodies were fused in that one spot right above her low-rise cutoffs where he touched her.

Ricardo mumbled something and disappeared into his office, reemerging with a few papers and a pen attached to a well-used clipboard. "First I need to photocopy your driver's license and social security card for my records. Then I need you to sign this consent."

Grace dug the cards out of her wallet, realizing she'd been clinging to her purse this whole time like a drowning woman clings to a life raft.

Her father had taught her never to sign anything she hadn't read, so she ignored Nikki's loud sigh as Grace took her time reading over the three pages. Basically, she was signing her consent to be videotaped, that she wouldn't have any right to the videotape, and that it became the property of the website. They had the right to show it on their site for no further compensation to her if they wished.

"I can't sign this," she said.

Ricardo balked. "Well, there's the door." He raised his eyebrows, but Grace didn't move.

"Can't...can't I sign something saying I consent to be videotaped for the audition, but that you won't put the tape online unless we decide to...work together? Because you're not compensating me for the audition, right?"

Ian laughed. "Don't tell me she's the first one to read the contract, Ricardo."

Ricardo shrugged. "Fine." He took her pen, made a big X through the whole contract except for the part about her consenting to be taped and that she had no rights to the tape, and initialed it before handing it back to her.

"Thank you," she murmured, signing her name at the bottom and setting her purse down out of the way.

Ricardo took the contract and her ID from her. He flipped a switch, and the spot of floor where Grace stood lit up perfectly. Looking at the lights, she could see they were all pre-set and marked on the floor with tape. If anyone bumped into one, she supposed, they could easily re-light the scene without having to stop for more than a moment.

Ricardo grabbed his camera off of one tripod and attached it to the tripod already in place at her...station. She really needed to learn their terminology.

Why? This wasn't supposed to be real. What was she still doing here?

Ian stepped back, looking at her appraisingly.

Oh yeah. That's why. Ian.

She'd thought she'd fallen for the sweet young lawyer he used to be, but she'd never seen him like this before. Never seen his dark side. The Ian she'd thought she was done with had become, in the course of a wine-soaked evening watching online porn, the most intriguing person she'd ever known in her life. And gorgeous. Hot damn, he was gorgeous.

"Whenever you're ready, Ian," Ricardo said, checking the viewfinder once more before moving back.

Ian smiled at her, that bright white grin of his, and she smiled back without thinking about it. Is this why all those tapes start off with the girls smiling? Probably. It was impossible to look at his smile and not give him one in return.

She took in a shaky breath.

"So, Grace, tell me why you're here." Ian spoke in a soft, commanding tone, one her body immediately responded to, as if he were speaking the words inside her head instead of from slightly to the right of the camera.

"Well, um, my...friend...told me about the website and I looked it up and found it interesting."

"That's it? Interesting?"

Arousing.

Grace's face heated up and she laughed nervously. "I couldn't help but wonder why all those girls seemed to like it so much."

"So you thought you'd try it for yourself."

"Yes." The word came out choked, as if against her better judgment.

Ian moved into her space, right next to her, probably because he knew exactly where he'd be in view on the camera frame. "What turns you on?"

You.

The whip.