Excerpt of Love My Way

Love My Way

Chapter 1
In the harsh glare of the stage lights, Ananda stretched her leg behind her along with arching her back
until she felt as though she would snap at any moment. Pushing her body like this shouldn’t be this
painful, this hard.
With delicate grace, she spun out of the move, twisting and twirling over the empty stage, keeping her
gaze forward.
Smile, damn it! Sell it!
Not that she could see her buyers. The dimmed lights masked whoever sat in the audience. However
she only wanted to catch the eye of one man. Eagan Morton.
As the tempo of her music sped up, so did she. Spinning on her toes, dancing her heart out until with
the organ’s constant pounding, she thought she was doing just that. She controlled her muscles,
making sure to stick each position, nothing sloppy. Nice and precise.
Damn, she needed this job.
“Miss Zelder!”
The loud voice snapped Ananda out of her trance. Freezing in the middle of the stage, she noticed
right away that her music had stopped. She glanced stage left and found the next auditioning dancers
waiting in the wings, chewing their bottom lips as they peered out into the seats, probably to see what
Ananda had been seeking since she got there.
“Why did you choose your music?” a female voice asked her from the darkness.
“Seemed appropriate.” Ananda stood up straight and made sure to stand in a perfect first position
without bending her knees. Looking the part of a dancer was just as important as the dance itself.
“Mary J. Blige’s ‘I’m Not Gon Cry’ hardly seems appropriate to dance in a classic ballet style.” This
time a male voice cut through.
Ananda’s heart thudded. Could that be Eagan? As the top TV, movie and any-damn-media-he-
wanted producer, she’d remembered how his voice sounded from TV interviews and his hit shows.
Even through her TV at home, his deep voice vibrated through her floors and walls. The man who
spoke didn’t have that kind of resonance. She still gave him her full attention.
He continued to speak. “If you wanted to dance to a hip hop song, that would have been fine with us.
We’re looking for different styles of dancing, not just classical.”
“Are you saying that what I did just now wasn’t good enough?” The muscles in the back of Ananda’s
neck tightened.   Her shoulders made a slow trek up toward her ears.
Relax. Hear the man out at least. Don’t be so antagonistic. Not this time.
“No, that’s not what I’m saying. Actually, I think that--”
“Thank you for coming in, Ms. Zelder,” a deep voice said, cutting off the first man.
Ananda’s stomach tightened to a ball. Her knees buckled. She recognized that voice immediately.
Knowing that he watched her, the Eagan Morton, she brought her shoulders back and took in a deep
breath. Poised. Confident.
“Next dancer, please.”
Deflated. She released a long breath.
“What?” Ananda didn’t mean for her thoughts to materialize into a shocked verbal statement. “Am I
picked for the show?”
A pause lingered before he said, “No,” in such a harsh way that it echoed in the expansive auditorium.
“Next dancer, please.”
“May I ask what I did wrong so that in future auditions I can correct whatever it is I did?”
The second pause lasted longer than the first. While she waited for an answer, Ananda chewed the
soft, fleshy inside of her bottom lip. “At least can I see your face?”
A small desk lamp clicked on from about twenty rows away from the stage. The dim light cast an eerie
glow to Eagan’s face, accentuating shadows under his eyes and nose. He could make the devil shake
in his hooves.
“You’re not what we’re looking for. Accept that answer and leave the stage.” The rumble of his voice
roared through the Virginia Wesleyan auditorium.
A gasp from the other dancers echoed off of the high ceiling. No way would Ananda leave defeated.
When the next dancer waltzed on stage, Ananda took the opportunity to execute three back flips, a feat
in her ballet shoes, then did a pirouette before sauntering off stage, her way of saying ‘fuck you’ but
with class and grace.
“Asshole,” she muttered as she snatched up her borrowed Nike gym bag.
“Cool move,” one dancer said as he stretched his leg over his head. “How did you do that on those
pointes?”
Ananda plopped on the floor and snatched off her shoes. “Practice.” Her toes throbbed as soon as
they were released from their pink satin prison. She could almost hear her little toes shouting a thank-
you when she slipped her feet into her favorite pair of flip-flops.
She wanted to tell the guy waiting to audition that hunger was the best motivation for anything. Hunger
for food. Hunger for a better life.
“Get off the stage!” screamed the man cloaked in darkness to the dancer who had come behind
Ananda.
Hunger for sex.
Ananda wrung her hands. No matter how much of an asshole Eagan was, the command in his voice
triggered her libido. Her nipples hardened with only the inflection of his voice. Poverty must have
made her crazy.
Slipping on her sweat jacket, Ananda zipped it up to cover her body’s response. In only a pink
camisole top, she was sure people would ask her if she suddenly felt cold despite being the middle of
June in Virginia Beach, Virginia.
“Man, that guy is tough.” A young, pretty blonde galloped to the backstage area where the other losers
congregated to lick their wounds.
The dancer’s bottom lip poked out and her eyes rimmed with tears.
Hold it together, girl. He wants to see you cry.
Another reason Ananda had chosen the unorthodox song. No matter what, good or bad, she wouldn’t
allow anyone to see her cry. Not again.
“I figured if he rejected you, there would be no way I would make it.” The lithe blonde wiped her eyes.
“You’re, like, way better than most people here.”
Ananda wasn’t about to refute the woman’s claim. Although she wasn’t looking to join in her pity party,
Ananda wanted to see if Eagan would pick anyone today. Creeping to the curtain, she peeked at the
next performer.
The woman, a little thick in the middle and legs that seemed tied down with weights, floundered all over
the stage with a big grin. Most people backstage snickered at the dancer’s clumsy moves. Not
Ananda. No matter how silly someone looked, it’s never cool to laugh at a person’s dream.
Once the dance ended, the woman struggled to catch her breath. It was what was said next that took
away Ananda’s.
“I want to see you again,” the deep voice said. “Can you prepare another routine?”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Ananda hoisted her bag on her shoulder. “I’m out of here. This place
is a joke.”
Good thing the audition location was relatively close to her apartment. She could have taken the bus
to take the five-mile trip back home. The long walk, though, would do her good, help clear her head.
As soon as her hand touched the door leading outside, she heard her name.
“Ms. Zelder! Please, wait.”
Not the voice of the mysterious Eagan Morton, she still stopped and turned around. The man who had
gotten her registration information ran toward her. Being a little shorter than her five-foot-ten height
and just about as wide around, to see him run looked painful.
“Look, I’m just trying to get home before it hits high noon and I won’t be able to stand the heat.” She
clutched the thick strap to the gym bag as she faced him.
“I promise I won’t hold you up.” He extended his hand. “My name is Carter.”
Ananda hesitated before taking his hand. “I remember you from registration.”
“I must apologize for my boss, Mr. Morton.”
His boss certainly lived up to the derogatory nickname that the media and everyone else had come up
for him. The man’s ego could fill a stadium and the parking lot. Ananda guessed having a personality
like he had was the reason he made millions and could bark orders like a spinning class instructor.
“You can’t apologize for other people.” Ananda glanced at her watch. Coincidently, the watch had
stopped fifteen minutes ago. Even it knew that if Ananda didn’t make this job that her dancing career
was over.
“I know.” He scratched his head making his chocolate brown dreadlocks wiggle around. “I just wanted
to let you know that I think you did an amazing job back there. You should have definitely been picked
for Morton’s High Stepper show. Honestly, I think he passed you over because you look like a
professional already.”
Ananda snickered. “So I’m penalized for being too good.” She shook her head. “Apologizes and
praises will not pay my rent and put food on my table.” When he lowered his gaze to the floor, an
instant pang of guilt struck her belly. “Thanks for the kind words. I guess I’m not what Mr. Morton is
looking for today.”
“Don’t give up though. I’m sure something else will be popping up soon.”
Unless it came in the next few minutes, Ananda was out of options, out of money and out of time.
“I still have your resume. If I hear anything, would you like for me to call you?”
Ananda had been around the business long enough to know a line when it was being fed to her. At
least this guy didn’t follow his offer up with, ‘Let me take you out to dinner to discuss your future.’ That
usually ended up with the guy’s hand on her knee, or worse, her ass. Then she would make sure to
introduce her knee to the jerk’s family jewels. However this guy’s kind, full brown eyes left her little
doubt to his intentions. He wanted to help her.
To be polite, she smiled and nodded at his inquiry. She would bet her dancing shoes that she wouldn’t
be hearing from him again.
And now she had to break the news to her roommate. No show, no contract, no money, no chance.

* * * *

“Let’s take a five minute break,” Phil said into the microphone.
Under the haze of the small desk lamp that illuminated their workspace, Eagan glared at his director
as the workers and dancers milled around on the stage.
“What the hell are you doing?” Eagan snapped. “Did you forget your place here? This is my show. I’m
running this.” He gritted his teeth so hard he thought he would crack his molars.
“Then maybe you should get out of whatever funk you’re in to recognize crap when you see it.” In the
darkness, Phil’s brown eyes looked black.
“Maybe we should take this conversation to another room.” Nina gathered the dancers’ photos and
other notes in her arms and stood, waiting for Eagan to make a move.
When he glared at her, she kept her gaze down to the floor, only occasionally glancing up at him. Each
time she brought her head up, she pushed her wire-rimmed glasses up her slender nose then instantly
swept her fingers behind her ear to push her stringy red hair from her face. Even in the darkened
theater, her pale skin accentuated her dark hair and eyebrows.
When he stood, she took a step back, allowing him room.
“Follow me.” Eagan had been given the use of a professor’s office while conducting his auditions.
Although he never thought he would have to use the space, his staff felt otherwise.
Like ducklings, Phil and Nina followed him to the assigned room. On the way, Eagan rolled up his
sleeves. His heart pounded with each step. He shouldn’t have been there that day. From his actions,
his crew must have picked up on his sour mood.
When they got to the office door, Nina raced around him and opened it for the duo. She kept her gaze
cast down, not letting her sky blue eyes be seen, as Eagan and Phil strolled inside of the room. Then
she shut the door behind herself.
“What the hell is going on with you today?” Phil slammed his folder full of papers onto the cluttered
desk.
“Take the tone out of your voice, Phil.” Eagan put his fists to his hips. “You’re my director, not my
equal.”
Crimson shaded Phil’s pecan-colored skin. Eagan had been friends with Phil for over seven years
when he first had him directing commercials and music videos. It was a fast hop, skip and a jump to
the two feature films Phil directed that collectively earned well over five hundred million dollars. Since
then Eagan struggled for another hit, any hit. Unfortunately the media knew that and grabbed onto that
story like a co-ed accepting the first cool job offer.
Phil ran his fingers through his black hair, probably the reason the man, at the young age of thirty-one,
had a growing bald spot.
“I thought I was your friend.” Phil leaned against the desk and crossed his feet at his ankles.
“Outside of work you are. Here,” Eagan pointed down, “I’m your boss. I’m the executive producer of
this damn show, and if I decide to pull it, I damn sure will.”
“Fine. Pull it. At the rate you’re going, your show will be off the air before you can get the first show in
the can.” Phil braced his hands on the desk. “How could you pick that horse over the gazelle?”
“What are you talking about?” Eagan knew exactly what he meant. As soon as Eagan had told the
last dancer to come back, he knew his mind wasn’t in the game. With everything that had happened to
him in the last few days, how could it have been?
“You let that incredible dancer go, the one with the graceful arms who did that thing with her leg.” At a
diminutive height of about five-foot-nothing, Phil attempted that same dance move albeit in an
awkward fashion, kicking his leg back until the man almost knocked over a floor lamp and a plant.
The dancer, that woman, Eagan knew exactly who Phil was talking about. Long caramel-colored legs,
high, rounded ass, full lips, and hair she kept in a ponytail. A beautiful Nubian goddess. He wondered
what it was like when it was all down and around her face, and over his body, and brushing his genitals.
“Perfect arabesque.” Eagan thought fondly of the woman.   He allowed a slight smile to creep up at the
corner of his mouth, something he hoped neither Phil nor Nina caught.
“What?” Nina craned her head toward him to catch what he’d whispered.
“The move. It’s called an arabesque.” And Ananda had executed it perfectly. He even remembered
her name.
“You do remember her.” Phil pointed to Eagan and his eyes widened. “I thought you barely looked at
her before you gave her the boot. She was good. Damn good.”
“That’s right. She was good.” Trying to remain in control, Eagan took a seat behind the desk forcing
Phil to stand and make his way to a chair across from him. “She was too good. The show is
supposed to be amateurs dancing with professionals, not semi-pros dancing with pros.”
“So is that why you wanted to see the last girl again?” Nina asked.
“No.” Eagan brushed his pant leg. “I wanted to see her again because I wasn’t paying attention and I
made the offer before I thought about it.”
Yes, that reason sounded plausible. If only Eagan could convince himself that the first woman’s look
didn’t matter, he would be okay.
“So you are preoccupied today. Man, let’s just wrap this up and go home. We can finish the auditions
another day.”
“No, I have to finish this. Besides, there’s nothing for me at home.” Eagan swiveled the chair around
to look out of the window.
College students crawled over the campus. Ophelia was about their age. Young. Too fucking young.
So much for the young being trainable.
“What are you talking about?” Nina asked.
Eagan kept his back to the duo. The news would have come out sooner or later. He was just hoping
for later than sooner.
“About a month ago, I released Ophelia.” He didn’t have to look at his two closest friends to know they
knew what he was talking about.
“Oh God!” Nina gasped then ran around the desk.
His hand in the air halted her. The last thing Eagan needed was a sympathy hug or gesture. Sure
Ophelia had been special. She’d been the perfect submissive. Attentive. Open. Willing.
He would get over her. He would have to.
“Ophelia? You mean Ophelia, Ophelia?” Phil’s small face squished into a ball as he contemplated
who she was and why she would be important to Eagan. Within a matter of seconds, Phil’s face
relaxed and he shook his head. “Your sex slave?”
“Submissive. Don’t call her a sex slave.” Eagan wasn’t defending Ophelia. He defended the Lifestyle
and terminology.
For him, being a dominant wasn’t all about sex. Hell, Ophelia even did that well. Being a dominant
meant he had control, control over his life, another’s and his world. Somehow his Lifestyle and his life
weren’t mirroring each other. Control slipped through his fingers. He had to find a way to gain it all
back.
“No wonder you’re so upset.” Nina kept her arms wrapped around her body.
Eagan could feel her anticipation. She wanted so much to hug and hold him. Not now. He didn’t need
anyone showing any type of affection.
“I’m not upset.” He stared pointedly at Nina. “She wanted to go and explore the world. Her heart wasn’
t into the Lifestyle anymore. I’m better off without her.”
“Bullshit.” Phil slapped his hand on Eagan’s shoulder. “I don’t really understand all of this ABCD stuff--”
Eagan cut in. “That’s BDSM.” Then he brushed his friend’s hand from his shoulder.
“Whatever. I just know that you cared a great deal for her. Sorry it didn’t work out.”
Eagan jerked to his feet. “Like I said. It was for the best.”
“I’m sorry, sir.” This time Nina managed to touch his arm as he passed her. “I’d say we stop auditions
for today and go home. Would you like for me to come over, Mr. Morton?”
Eagan shook his head. “Not tonight. Just not in the mood.”
As tempting as the offer was, Eagan didn’t want to get Nina’s hopes up. He’d trained her a little when
her curiosity got the better of her. Even played with her on occasion. He could tell right away she
wanted something permanent. As nice and as beautiful as she was, she wasn’t for him.
A submissive who acted submissive didn’t appeal to him. His desired submissive would have to have
a mind of her own while still willing and wanting to please him. With Nina, although she had been more
than willing to please him, she also didn’t express her feelings, even after Eagan pressed her before,
during and after play. He didn’t want to collar her like he wanted to with Ophelia.
“Let’s just get back to work. No use wondering about my relationship woes.” Eagan headed to the
door with Nina close behind him to open it for him.
“Hey, wait. I have an idea.” A grin a big as the school’s campus covered Phil’s face.
“This had better be good.” Eagan halted in his tracks, turned to him and crossed his arms over his
chest.
“Reality shows are all the rage now. ‘Date My Dad’, ‘Date My Mom’, ‘The Bachelor.’ Hell, even that 80’
s rapper has his own show. Um, Taste of Love or is it Spice of Love? I don’t remember. You get
where I’m going with this?” With a far away look in his eyes, Phil strolled around the office.
Eagan shook his head.
“We can do a reality show with you where you find your perfect sex slave.” He held out his arms like
one of Barker’s Beauties showing off a car or a refrigerator on The Price Is Right.
“Submissive,” Eagan corrected. A sex slave was what Nina wanted to be and he wanted no parts of
that.
If Eagan hadn’t stared at his friend for several seconds to see if he would start laughing, he would have
thought he was kidding. What was Phil thinking?
“You’re joking, right?” Eagan reached for the door but Phil quickly slithered his way in between him
and the door.
“It could the hottest thing on the planet.” Phil braced his hands on Eagan’s shoulders. “It’s not like the
whole world doesn’t know about you and your Lifestyle anyway since you admitted it on that Barbara
Walters’ special.”
“She asked. I answered.” Eagan felt no need to hide his true self from anyone.
Of course coming out on national television that he had women strung up in his dungeon and he
spanked them with paddles on a regular basis didn’t garner him a lot of female fans.   Feminist
attorney Judith McClowan wanted his head on a platter. Most women and some men wanted his head
on a platter. Some didn’t understand him. The rest wanted to be the next submissive.
He suspected that his chosen Lifestyle was why his numbers for each of his projects were
plummeting. The Nielsen ratings for all of his shows couldn’t beat out rerun shows for other reality TV
shows. The box office takes for his movies went from blockbuster to just above tanking. All of his
projects were sure-fire winners. He didn’t understand how the public’s perception had shifted.
He did know this. He needed a hit and he needed it in the worst way. A fresh take on the old reality
TV show market could boost his popularity again.
Picking someone to fill Ophelia’s spot couldn’t just occur on some cheesy reality TV show. It had
taken months for Eagan to get Ophelia to trust him, and even longer to train her. A special bond like
that couldn’t just happen over a two-month period in front of cameras.
“Since everyone knows that when you’re not directing Emmy-winning shows that you’re Master Eagan
in your off time, I’d say we put on a show to find your next submissive.” Phil rubbed his hands together
in a sinister fashion. If the man wasn’t wearing Dockers, an R.E.M. t-shirt and loafers, the look may
have worked.
“I don’t know,” Nina piped in. “Sounds awfully risky to me. What if you get weirdos or some woman
trying to prove something to you or try to change you?”
“That will never happen.” Eagan crossed his arms over his chest and puffed it out for emphasis.
“Dude, this could work.” Phil headed to the desk where he grabbed a pad and pen.
“It couldn’t and I don’t want it to work even if it could. Finding a submissive or any romantic partner is
not as simple as television makes it seem. There’s a lot of thought involved. You have to build trust.
You have to get to know the person gradually. I can’t do that in a matter of weeks.”
“I’m thinking nine to ten weeks. Sound good?” Phil scribbled some notes on the pad.
“You’re not even listening to me.” Though the idea sounded ludicrous, Eagan slowed to leave. He
paced the floor to hear more just to be sure it was as crazy as it sounded.
“Where would I find the women to be on this show?” Eagan glanced at Phil as he marched back and
forth.
“I’d say let them be a mixed group. We’ll get half of the women from real TCB dungeons.”
“BDSM,” Eagan said with a heavy sigh. Next time his friend screwed up the name, Eagan would get a
yard stick and discipline him like he would to any of his submissives.
“Whatever. And the other half can be ordinary women who never thought about doing the Lifestyle but
are very interested in it.”
“And where would you find them?” Nina asked. She split her attention between Phil and Eagan.
“Around. I’m sure we could find five or six hot chicks to be willing to do this show. Do you see the crap
people eat on ‘Survivor’ and ‘Fear Factor’? A little spanking should be nothing.”
“That’s not all I do.” Eagan planted his hands on his hips and glared at this idea man.
“Good. Whatever it is you do in your special dungeon you can do each show to eliminate the women
one by one.”
“Anything? We’re talking paddles, canes, wax play, electric play, nipple clamps.”
At the mention of the last item, Nina sucked air between her teeth. Her body recoiled in response as
though he had put the clamps on her just now.
Knowing that Nina still responded to the toys accelerated Eagan’s pulse. He glanced at his watch.
Maybe he did have some time after the audition to unwind a bit.
“No actresses.” Strolling back to the desk, Eagan assumed the chair behind the desk again. “I don’t
want anyone doing this to get a fucking part in one of my shows or movies. And I definitely don’t want
someone faking her emotions as some sort of exercise. This is my life. I take this Lifestyle and my
involvement in it very seriously.”
“Okay.” Phil scratched through something he’d written on his pad.
“Wait, wait, wait.” Waving his hands in the air, a crucial thought hit Eagan. “What network would air
this? There’s no way in hell any network in their right minds would broadcast me stringing up half-
naked women and deciding which one would be the right submissive.”
“Hmm, good point.” As usual, Phil drummed his pen against the pad of paper.
“Phil.” It was all Eagan had to say to get his friend to stop his nervous habit.
“Sorry.” When the realization of the moment hit him, Phil stood up straighter. “Hey, I’m not your
submissive. You can’t tell me what to do.”
“And yet you stopped.” The power to control tickled Eagan’s insides.
“You’re good, man.” Phil took one stroll around the room before stopping in the center. “Hey, doesn’t
Skintastic owe you a huge favor for fucking up your broadcast of the Satellite Excellence Award show?”
“That’s Cine-tastic.”
“Whatever. As much soft-core porn as they show, that’s what they should be named.”
“And yes, they do owe me for cutting out the audio in the last hour of that live show.” Thinking about it,
even two years later, made Eagan tighten his jaw.
Something in what Eagan said made Phil smile, laugh and jump around with joy. “You are a freakin’
genius!”
“I know that.” Eagan smirked. “But what for this time?”
“That’s how we’ll pitch it. The show will be completely live. That’ll cut down on production time.
Skintastic is just doing reruns of that mobster show now. Plus they do that show called ‘Limousine
Loving’ where couples have sex in a limo. And they’ve aired that stripper show called ‘The Pole’. I
don’t think a BDSM show will throw off their programming.”
“At least you got the name of my Lifestyle correct this time.” So much for having to resort to the
yardstick. “The show couldn’t all be live though.”
Phil furrowed his bushy eyebrows. “Why not?”
“There’s no way I can adequately play with twelve women within an hour. The first show can definitely
be live.”
“And the last show,” Phil quickly added.
“Of course. The grand finale. That would have to be live.”
“Everything else we can tape a show per week and edit. Yeah, that would make sense. It’ll be hard as
hell but it can work. I’m sure you have a ton of set up for each one of your,” Phil waved his hand in the
air, searching for the right words, “events.”
“Play. We call it playing.”
“Whatever. I would never let my kids play the way you do.”
Eagan chuckled. “Okay, so I’m a network executive.” To punctuate his point, Eagan leaned back in a
swivel chair and rocked back and forth. “Sell me on this show idea. Right now I’m not feeling it.”
“Fine.” Phil set the pad and pen on the desk and rolled up his sleeves. “Picture this. Twelve women
come to your mansion in Virginia Beach and stay with you for nine to ten weeks.”
“All twelve the entire time?” Nina didn’t speak up much but when she had something to say, she piped
in very quickly.
“No, of course not. Every show Master E. will eliminate one potential submissive. Just like on every
other reality show, they’ll go through a reward challenge and a test to stay in the house.”
“Who sets up these challenges?” Eagan asked.
“You would.”
Eagan cocked his eyebrow. “I’m TV exec right now, remember?”
Rolling his eyes, Phil corrected himself. “Fine. Eagan Morton would. Since he’s most familiar with the
Lifestyle and what tests he would want the women to endure, he would be the best one to make that
call.”
“Fine.” He nodded.
“And we’ll get twelve of the most gorgeous women you’ve ever seen.”
Eagan waved his hand in the air. “I don’t base my decision on looks.”
“Really? I’ve seen some hot women on your arm. And Ophelia was the sexiest woman on two feet.
What was she? Part black and part Japanese?”
“Half Filipino,” Eagan glanced at his friend who suddenly got a smug expression on his face as though
he were Ophelia’s father, “and half African-American.”
“I knew she had to be part Filipino. She was gorgeous.”
“Anyway, I want all of the women to be hooded from the time they walk through the door to the time they’
re eliminated. At that point, then they can remove their masks.”
“Ohh, element of surprise. I like that.”
It may have sounded like an element of surprise to Phil. To Eagan it was a way of life. He never
judged a woman by her appearance. He only looked at her by the way she carried herself. Tall, short,
slender or voluptuous. Size, shape, race and age didn’t matter to him. As long as she had confidence
in herself, he could accept her as his submissive.
“Any other requests?” Phil asked.
“Are you asking me as Cine-tastic exec or as the Master?” He stared pointedly at his director.
“The Master of course.”
Eagan thought for a bit. The longer Phil talked, the more he could see himself actually going through
this idea, that’s if they could get it past the network.
“What prize would the one lucky submissive get?” Eagan clasped his hands together and set the
union on the desk.
“Well for one, they would be your submissive.”
“For how long?”
Phil furrowed his eyebrows. “Isn’t this sort of a lifetime deal?”
“It could be. But if we find we’re not really compatible, she needs an easy out plan and so do I. How
about a year with me unless otherwise agreed upon between the two of us?”
Nina sighed.
“A year in your home? Sounds like a good deal to me.”
“Plus she would get jewels and trips. All of that could be worked out later.” Eagan waved his hands in
the air, hating fussing over the petty details. “And another thing. Each woman would have to be
collared when they step into my house. I will own them and I will release them. And they cannot be
collared by anyone else while in my home.”
“I don’t know what all of that means but I’ll make sure of that.”
“I have a friend who owns a club. I’ll get him to pick out six women for me.”
“Cool.”
“So what about the other six women?” Nina asked.
A knock on the door stopped the brainstorming session.
“Enter,” Eagan called through the door.
Carter, one of Eagan’s assistant, poked his head through the opened door. “Are we going to keep
going with auditions or stop for today?”
Phil glanced at Eagan. “Well?”
“Give us five more minutes,” Eagan said. Just as Carter ducked his head back, Eagan called for him
again. “I’m going to be putting together a reality show. Do you think you can find six women who aren’t
skittish about nudity and who aren’t actresses?”
“Um, that’s a pretty tall order but I’ll try.” Carter scratched his head. “What kind of show is it?”
“A reality show about a Dominant looking for a submissive,” Phil said.
Carter volleyed his gaze from Phil to Nina to Eagan then back on Phil again. “I guess.”
“Don’t guess. Do it or don’t do it.” Eagan rose from his seat.
“Yes, sir.”
Eagan waved to Carter to leave. “Give us a minute and we’ll be right out.”
Carter shut the door on the trio.
“Hey, what are you all planning to call this show?” Nina asked as she gathered the photos and notes in
her arms again.
“I was thinking ‘Controlled Environment.’ How do you like that?” Phil clapped his hands in happiness.
“I don’t. It’s not very sexy or enticing. It sounds like a medical show or something that should be on
The Learning Channel.” Eagan crossed his arms and stared out into the crowd of people below
walking by them.
“What about ‘The Eagan Morton Show?’”
Eagan didn’t even have to look at his friend for Phil to know that he hated that show name. His
hunched shoulders spoke volumes.
“Fine,” Phil said.
As Eagan stared at each young woman walking by, he wondered what they were really like behind
closed doors. What did they really want? Their reactions fueled him.
“I got it,” Eagan said, still facing the window. “Love My Way.”
“Perfect.”
Yes, Eagan’s next woman would be just that. Perfect.

Copyright © 2006 by Bridget Midway. All rights reserved.