Acting Dominant

by Tigger

©2008

Chapter 20: A Glorious Morning Have We Seen

  

Something was 'not right,' Juana thought, her mind still muzzy with sleep. Maybe it was just too early to get up - being awake when you should be sleeping was about as 'not right' as things were allowed to get in ShaJuana Price's highly ordered world. Cautiously, she peaked open one eye to look at her alarm clock. Things went from 'not right' to dead-wrong in half a heartbeat!

First, her clock was not where it was supposed to be, and second, there was a softly snoring man-lump behind her in her bed. . .

Make that three things, she realized as her brain finally started to catch up - this was not HER bed, nor was it her room. How the hell. . .

And then it all came flooding back to her. That damned party and Solange's setting her up so Ty - make that Tina - would beat her in that also-damned Hall of Horrors thing.

Damn! Why wasn't she totally pissed off about that? She hoped she wasn't getting mellow . . .

Oh, yeah, she thought as she rolled over in the bed - hours of having yourself loved blind and brainless did things like that to a woman.

She went instantly still as she played back that thought. She'd used the "L" word, not the "F" word, and she'd meant it. Aw hell, now she'd gone and done it, she thought. She'd fallen in love with Tyrone Evans! She was at once deliriously happy and utterly terrified. She didn't know how to be in love, dammit. Being 'in-LOVE!!' was a girly thing - like pink underwear, for god's sake. What did a towering she-hulk like her know about being in love and all that happily ever after stuff??!

She tried to imagine herself as his woman - her brain wouldn't let herself use the other "w" word. She couldn't even manage that imagery!. Not unless Donna Reed grew half a foot, wore six inch stiletto platforms, a latex house dress and a leather apron! She wasn't made to be the 'little woman', dammit!

"Hey," a soft voice behind her called, "You're thinking awfully loud for so early in the morning." She shivered as Ty pressed a kiss to the base of her neck and pulled her body back closer to his own, spoon-fashion.

She could feel the strength of him when he did that - she often forgot just how strong he was because of their relative sizes - and then he kissed her again. "What's up, Juana? You've gone all tense."

The gentleness of his tone and question undid her as nothing else would have, and she was crying before she could do anything to hold back the tears. She wanted to curl up into the fetal position and hide until she got over it, but Ty was having none of it. Using that strength again, he had her rolled over, facing him and wrapped up tight in his arms before she quite knew what was happening. "Hey, hey, what's the matter, baby? Did I hurt you?"

"No, dammit, you didn't hurt me!" she snapped, angry at him because she was angry at herself for crying. And it was HIS damn fault, too!

"Then, why?" he asked, worried.

"Because you loved me, you jackass! Just like I was a real girl!"

"HUH?!?" His oh-so-male one-word answer infuriated her so much she punched him - which hurt him - so she did it again. She was winding up for a third when he bear-hugged her so she couldn't get another clean shot at him. "That hurts, you little witch - cut it out!"

"I'm not a little anything, you . . you . . " she was struggling now, trying to get out of his arms - trying to get away before she truly humiliated herself.

Ty was having none of it, and rolled her to her back so he was on top, looking down into her eyes. Here there be dragons, he thought. "Juana-love? You are a real girl - as real as it gets, okay? As real as it will ever get for me. You're my girl."

She stopped struggling, but the tears continued to stream down her cheeks. "How can I be your girl, Ty? I'm a bitch-domme, for heavens sake - a sex-worker. I freakin' tower over you. And. . . And. . .and I'm black!"

He didn't answer right away, just kept looking down at her. Finally he smiled. "You done?" he asked, and then continued before she could answer, "Because if you are, we're home free. One - you're black and absolutely gorgeous inside and out. I can't imagine my girl being any other way. Two - your height. I'm not in the least intimidated by that, and in fact, find it both attractive and exciting. I can't imagine my girl being any other way. As for your profession, what you are is an actress and artist who uses your God-given acting ability, your empathy and your compassion to help people. Yeah, sex is involved, but not in anyway that bothers me. News-flash, Juana, I'm sorta in the same line of work just now!"

She swallowed hard, looking up into his eyes. It was still dark in the room, but there was enough light for her to see them. "You say that now. . ."

"And I'll say it tomorrow, and tomorrow, and every tomorrow after that," he told her. "Like you yourself told me - you don't ordinarily even touch the guys on their, um, male parts," he paused, reflectively before continuing, "Well, you certainly touched mine during our two scenes. . " Juana mumbled something. "Hmm? You say something?"

Embarrassed, and certain she was blushing furiously, Juana tried to look away from his face, only to have a gentle hand cup her chin and turn her back to him. She sighed. "I said, that was just with you. I might strap one on and take a guy up the ass during a session, but he does the jerking off. Solange gets pissed if we do too much of that, so I try to do none."

"See? As long as I'm special that way, I don't mind your work. Hell, I'm starting to think some of it is sexy! Especially your costumes!"

"Perv," she muttered, fighting back the elation she felt bubbling up inside her.

"And whose fault is THAT?" he asked, grinning.

"Natural talent, asshole," she answered, then went still again. Ty cocked an eyebrow at her. "I can't be Donna Reed, Ty, not even for you," she managed to choke out.

And was instantly furious again when he started laughing so hard he lost his hold on her. She rolled on top of him, pummeling him again until he caught a wrist in each hand. "Thank GOD for that, Tall-booty! I grew up with Donna - she's my Mom! I don't want to be my Dad, and I sure as hell don't want a girl just like the girl who married dear old Dad, either. That's not me!"

She was mollified with that. "So, if you're not going to do fuel injectors in West Podunk, what are you going to do?"

Ty released her hands, and pulled her to him. Finally, she relaxed and laid her head on his shoulder, liking how they fit together that way. "I'm not sure, but it will have something to do with the theater. I've still got the business degree, so I might be able to get something in management, but I'm working on something else just now, too."

"Gonna tell me, or am I gonna have to put you over that spankin' bench and torture it out of you?"

"I've been accepted at the Actors Studio Drama School," he told her, "In the director's program. In my time here, I've helped orchestrate any number of scenes for the ladies - you know, staging, planning, costuming - that kind of thing? I like it, and they all said I was good at it, too. And I thought, 'Hey, this is a way I can still be involved with the theater creatively.'"

"When do you start?"

"After New Years, if I can work out the finances. I won't ask Dad for help - not for this."

Understanding dawned. "That's why you wanted to do the on-call TV slave thing? You wanted the money?"

He nodded. "But that's not going to work."

"Why not?" she asked.

"Because there's only one woman I'm giving that part of me, and I won't 'sell it', not even for that." He was suddenly being strangled, kissed and cried on, all at once. "DAMMIT, Juana, I can't BREATHE!" he yelped, and took in a couple of deep breaths when the grip eased.

"Thank you," she said softly, and then pressed on before the tears started again. "So, what are you going to do?"

"Keep working here, doing the odd scene as I have been doing, and working more with Solange in the planning and business end of the dungeon. Using that damned business degree."

"No shit?"

"No shit," he affirmed.

"Like how?"

He grinned up at her smugly. "Like, did you know, that we don't have a health care plan here for the ladies and other staff?"

She looked at him as if he'd grown three heads. "Health Care? For cripes sake, white boy, this is a freakin' DUNGEON!"

"And your point is? Did you know that Solange has a city-issued business license for this place? I forget what the technical term she used to describe it in the paperwork, but the whole thing is legal and above board. She even pays taxes. I think she currently gets the girls health care at reduced prices by exchanging services with a couple of doctors, but that doesn't help with things like hospital care and prescriptions."

"Health insurance in a dungeon?" she said, wonderingly. "What's next? Retirement plans?"

"I am looking into tax sheltered annuity plans," he told her seriously, and then smiled as she dissolved into giggles. He stopped those by taking possession of her mouth, kissing her with a sweet thoroughness that thrilled her. "Better?" he asked.

"Oh, yeah," she growled, her juices bubbling. "JUST fine, now, cutey."

Ty felt her hand reach down, find him, stroke him and then her mouth took his. "Get ready to be had, little man, MY way!"

Suddenly, a sharp knock sounded on the door. "HEY, you two!" Solange's voice called from the other side. "I've got paying clients coming in to use this room today, and I'm sure it needs a thorough cleaning!"

"Go away, Solange!" Ty yelled, reaching up to grip Juana's hips. "Come back in twenty minutes or so!"

"An hour!" Juana retorted loudly as she settled herself around him, "At least an hour!"

~-~

Acting Dominant

Interlude: Bad Angel Fire Her Good One Out

Solange offered Tyrone the steaming cup of tea she'd just poured and prepared with all the grace and ceremony of a Regency duchess. Accepting it, he grinned. "Now I know how Tina should have served you and Juana in that first scene of ours."

Bowing her head with regal acceptance, she replied,"One should always handle the social niceties, such a serving tea, properly, and with due respect and solemnity," and then grinned. "Besides, this tea is hot so I have to handle it carefully."

Accepting the offer of a cookie, Ty set his cup and plate down so that he could pick up his journal. "I was a little surprised we didn't put off this week's reflective meeting," he told her as he paged through the notebook, "I mean, I didn't do any learning sessions this week."

Taking a sip from her own tea, Solange shook her head. "No, you didn't. You had something that could have been far more challenging to you," she averred. "You had the opportunity to dominate the woman you love for the very first time. You can passively accept the dominance of another when you bottom, but topping is active - something you have to initiate and take responsibility for the outcomes. I wanted to make sure that you didn't have any. . . lingering issues about your role in that scene with ShaJuana."

Once again, Ty surprised and pleased the experienced Mistress by not giving the typical knee-jerk male response of "No problem!" She let him mull over the question without further input from her, interested in what he might come up with in response.

Finally, he put the journal down and picked up his teacup. "You know, I wish I'd thought to journal that, but I didn't - mostly because I just felt so good about the whole thing afterwards. Kind of a super-afterglow."

"No negative feelings about 'forcing her against her will' or 'taking away her freedom of choice?' You are okay with that?"

"More than okay," he replied, reflectively. "Because basically, I didn't and wouldn't have. You might as well know that if she'd safeworded? No one but the two of us would have known, unless she told. As far as I was concerned, we could have spent the rest of the night eating snacks and watching the tube."

"So, you would have lied to me?" she asked, a finely formed brow arching in her query.

"Yup. And I would have lied about the victory scene, too, if that bothered her. Or maybe I'll request something I know she'll like doing as the domme."

"Is that what you want? I said you could have any scene you want."

"You had it right to begin with, Solange. She's the woman I love - she's the woman I want."

"And you're concerned that ShaJuana might have issues with you wanting to top her, or with you voluntarily playing with someone else?"

Ty considered that question, and then shrugged. "Dunno. I think. . . no, I KNOW that she enjoyed what we did together after the Halloween party, but that really wasn't too stressful on her ego once I released her from the bondage."

"Being loved - truly loved - is rarely stressful for a woman," Solange observed drily.

"Glad to hear that, 'cause I sure hoped that would be the case," Ty grinned. "But we haven't talked about it much beyond some morning-after pillow talk, you know? I'm just not sure where to go next with her, but I feel these conflicting needs to go slow and do whatever it takes to make her happy, and yet, on the other hand . . ."

"You want to rope her, brand her and make her yours right now."

"Well, yeah," he said, blushing at the imagery invoked as much for the knowing tone with which Solange delivered it. "Figuratively, anyway. I'm still not much into pain and marking things, though."

"Yes, I do see. Perhaps, I need to talk to ShaJuana and see what I can get out of her. She's been hard to pin down, these past few days - intentionally on her part, I think, because she wants to be annoyed with me. I'll give her a few more days to deal with that. Good for her to stew a bit more before I help her see figure things out."

"Thanks, Solange," Ty grinned sheepishly. "Sometimes, I just don't know what the rules are with her."

"You are a mere male, and therefore, if you did know the rules, we women would be obligated to change them so you didn't. I, however, am a superior female and I do know the rules." The pair shared a snort of laughter at that. "Let me deal with this and I will get back to you," Solange told him. "Now, I have another topic I would like to discuss if you still have some time."

"Sure! What's up?"

Solange held up her right index finger in a 'wait one' gesture as she picked up her phone. Punching in a quick number, she settled back into her chair. "It's me," she said into the receiver, a wicked twinkle in her gray eyes, "Please present yourself in my office immediately."

She'd barely replaced the handset on its hook when a confused Ty heard a polite three-knock rap on the office's door. "Enter," Solange ordered.

The man who entered in response to that directive was tall, thick through the shoulders and chest, and of middle years. He was impeccably dressed in a suit Ty was certain had not come off any department store sales rack. And, Ty thought, there was something familiar about him - Ty was certain that they'd met sometime in the past, but where. . . ?

He quickly crossed to Solange where he took the hand she held languidly up to him and pressed it to his lips. "Darling," she said, a world of affection in her voice. Then she turned her attention back to Ty. "Tyrone, I don't know if you will remember, but you have the acquaintance of this gentleman," she said, confirming Ty's recognition. "This is my husband, Roderick. He is something of a venture capitalist who specializes in helping to finance Broadway stage plays."

Ty went cold as he recalled precisely when he'd had the acquaintance of this man. "You were the producer who sat in during my audition for that leading-man role opposite Roxie Hunter." he said, a hint of accusation in his voice.

Still holding Solange's hand in his, the man turned to face Ty. "Yes, I was. You did quite well in that audition as I recall."

Bitterness bubbled up from Ty's core. "Not all that well, evidently! I heard what you said afterwards! I had to come back because I forgot something. You wouldn't even let the director consider me!"

"I didn't say you couldn't act, kid," the man snapped back, the temper Ty recalled from the audition showing, "I said you couldn't sing for shit and that you weren't tall enough for the damned part. You read just fine, but your body type was all wrong for that role!"

"Roddy," Solange said very quietly, steel in her tone. "Language!"

"Sorry, Mistress," the man replied, visibly upset at his lapse of control. "My apologies to you, too, Mr. Edwards. That's not why I'm here. Please excuse my outburst."

Taken aback by the both the formal address and the sincerity of the apology, Ty nodded slowly. "Accepted." he said, wondering why he was here, and at Solange's direction.

Waitaminute, Ty thought, his eyes snapping back and forth between Solange and her husband - did he just call her 'MISTRESS?'

Roderick withdrew a parchment envelope from his inside coat pocket and handed it to Ty. "This is why I'm here - to give this to you."

Ty broke the wax seal and withdrew a sheaf of papers from within. The letter on top carried the letterhead of Pace University. "'Dear Mr. Edwards,'" Ty began to read, "'The Actor's Studio Program is pleased to award you the inaugural Jasmine Solange Devereaux Scholarship for select students in the Actors Studio Master of Fine Arts program . . .'" Bewildered, he looked up and repeated, "Jasmine Solange Devereaux?"

Solange smiled gently. "That's my full name, Tyrone. Roddy created the endowment in my name as a gift to me."

Ty considered that, and then glared at the man. "And you gave me this scholarship because your Mistress ordered you to?" he accused.

"Hell no!" Roderick thundered back only to be pulled up short by a warning tug on his hand from Solange. "Your pardon, Mistress. No, Mr. Edwards, you got it because you are talented! Look, you're never going to be more than a bit player on Broadway, okay? You wanna keep playing the mobsters in "Kiss Me, Kate" or maybe Bottom in "A Mid-Summer Nights Dream?" Fine, but you're not going to be Petruchio or Oberon because you're not tall enough. When Mistress Jazz told me you were thinking of being a director, I said - and I'll say it again now, that you could be pretty good - the best directors are really good actors, in my opinion. Okay, you also know Mistress and she likes you - that got you looked at by me first and then by the guys I hired to run her foundation."

"Looked at? Looked at how?" Ty asked. "I've never done any directing that was recorded in any way."

"Solange said you organized this year's Halloween Party - set everything up for her. I was there and saw how well it went." Ty saw an intimate look flash between Solange and her husband at that revelation and blushed at the emotional intensity between them.

"The way you orchestrated that party was as good an example of what directing is all about as anything I've seen. You set and dressed the stage. You had the right pace. You established the right balance between the script and the talents of your actors. Jasmine has also let me review some of the other scenes you've directed for her here, and I've talked to some of the players who were involved in them. They confirm your ability to set the scene and get the desired results. You won because you're deserving. I don't give free rides in the theater, kid. You only get what you earn and what your talent rates. Got that?"

Ty glanced at Solange for a moment and saw the pleased smile she gave her husband. He swallowed and then stood, offering his hand to Solange's husband. "Got it," he said roughly. "And thanks."

Surprisingly, the rough-tempered man blushed and accepted the offered hand almost bashfully. "You're good," he repeated, "And Mistress says you bust your ass to get better. Break a leg, okay?"

Shaking his hand hard, Ty grinned broadly. "Okay! And thanks, both of you!"

"You are welcome," Solange answered, and then looked to her husband. "You may run along now, dear. I will see you at home."

"Yes, Mistress," he said, kissing the hand again. "See you around, Edwards," and then he left without another word.

"Wow," Ty breathed, even as the door closed behind Solange's departing husband. "He's your slav. . . I mean, he's submissive to you. . . Oh hell, I'm sorry. That's none of my business."

"It's common knowledge among the staff here at the dungeon that I have a lifestyle relationship with Roderick that often has him submitting to me in the physical and personal aspects of our lives together as man and wife. However, you need to understand that his submission has absolutely no bearing on the conduct of his professional affairs. I asked him to consider endowing the scholarship and I asked him to see that you were given a fair opportunity to win that scholarship. That's all. You won that on your own merit and on his professional opinion of you as another theater professional."

Ty blushed at her directness, but nodded. "Thanks, Solange. I appreciate that."

"Are you going to be foolish or are you going to accept that scholarship?" and it was La Maitresse who demanded an answer.

"Juana would have my ass if I even tried to turn something like that down."

"And she'd be right. I'm glad the two of you are a team now. You are a very lucky young man."

"I know. For what it's worth? And remember, until ten minutes ago, I still blamed your husband for not giving me what I considered to be a fair shake? I think your Roderick is a very lucky man, too."

Solange's smile was feline-smug as she accepted the implied compliment. "Yes, he is - almost as lucky as I am to have him. I'm glad to hear, however, that you see there might have been some justification for his opinion, regardless of how. . . callously he might have expressed it when he thought he was in private conference."

~-~

  

  

  

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