Morgan's Point of View
The morning sunlight streams through my office windows, casting geometric shadows across my pristine white desk. I run my finger along the edge of my laptop, savoring the moment before I make the call. Yesterday had been... illuminating. Adam's resistance was stronger than I'd anticipated, but his vulnerability was exactly what I'd hoped for. The pieces are falling into place.
I pick up my phone and dial Leo's number, watching the seconds tick by on my Cartier watch. He answers on the second ring.
"Hello?" His voice carries that familiar nervous tremor. He knows better than to ignore my calls.
"Leo, how goes winning your ex back?" I keep my voice light, conversational, as if we're old friends catching up rather than what we actually are.
He clears his throat. "Morgan. I... it's complicated."
"Complicated?" I repeat, letting just enough edge creep into my tone to make him uncomfortable. "I thought my instructions were quite simple. You requested her for scenes and now you're supposed to be reeling her back in."
"She's completely devoted to her loser boyfriend," Leo protests, his voice rising with frustration. "You should have seen her on that podcast. She practically glowed talking about him."
"Leo, watch your tone," I snap, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "You will not refer to him as a loser."
I hear Leo gulp audibly through the phone. His breathing quickens.
"I... I'm sorry, Morgan," he stammers.
I tap my perfectly manicured nail against my desk, the soft clicking sound filling the silence between us. "I did watch the podcast, Leo. When I asked you if you could do this, you said you could steal her back, no problem. Those were your exact words, weren't they?"
"Yes, but…"
"No buts," I cut him off. "I don't accept excuses. I expect results."
"The scene next week. That's your opportunity. Make her remember why she spent three years with you."
"And if I can't?" Leo asks, his voice small.
I smile at my reflection in the glass. "Then our arrangement changes. I'm sure you'd hate for those videos of you raping that unconscious girl to find their way to the police."
"That's not fair," he whispers. "You promised…"
"I promised discretion in exchange for cooperation," I remind him. "So far, I'm not seeing much cooperation."
Leo's voice turns desperate, almost whining. "It's impossible, Morgan. She barely liked me while we dated. I was always her second choice, she was always thinking about him. You know that."
I tap my fingernails against the windowpane, considering his pathetic excuses. "Is that so? Then perhaps we need a different approach."
"What if we go another route entirely?" I say, my mind already formulating a new plan.
Leo's breathing changes on the other end of the line. "Another route?"
I smile, tracing a pattern on the glass with my fingertip. "It's more important that she leaves that boyfriend of hers. That's all I really care about at this point."
"And how exactly will we manage that?" Leo sounds skeptical.
"Perhaps I can fabricate some rumors about you two dating again. Little whispers in the right ears." I pause, the perfect strategy crystallizing in my mind. "Better yet, what if we get Adam into the studio for your scene with her?"
"What?" Leo's voice cracks with surprise.
"Think about it," I purr, excitement building in my chest. "You put on a show that would devastate him. Make it look like there's still passion between you. Something so convincing that even she might get confused about her feelings. I'll send you the new script to send to the producer"
"Morgan, that's..." Leo hesitates.
"Brilliant?" I finish for him, turning away from the window. "I know."
"But how would you even get him there?"
I laugh softly, thinking of Adam's uncertain eyes, his vulnerability, how easily he trusted me. "Oh, Leo. You underestimate how persuasive I can be. Adam and I have developed quite the... connection."
"Jesus," Leo mutters, clearly uncomfortable. "You're obsessed with this guy."
My grip tightens on the phone. "Don't confuse obsession with infatuation, Leo. Unlike some people, I understand what real love is."
"Alright, alright," Leo says, his voice strained with resignation. "Then you'll get rid of the video of me and that girl?"
I hang up, not bothering to address his concerns. Getting Adam to the studio is going to require delicate maneuvering. He's already wary of me, and while our night together created a powerful connection, he's still clinging to his precious Lana. Men can be so stubborn about their first loves.
I open my laptop and pull up the footage from our hotel encounter. The camera angle is perfect, capturing every moment of Adam's surrender. His expression as he came inside me was exquisite, a mixture of confusion, pleasure, and that fleeting moment of horror when he realized who was really riding him.
I pause the footage, freezing on Adam's blissful expression as I claimed him. Such a perfect moment. But not enough.
My thoughts wander to a more pressing task. Maybe I can escilate this slower. First I need Lana to agree to let Adam co-star in my final film, my personal masterpiece. A femdom scene would be perfect. I've already pitched the concept to the studio, and they're intrigued by the novelty of featuring a real amateur for the male lead. Then he won't be so afraid of the studio.
Lana must be drowning in guilt right now after their fight about Leo. This could be her chance at penance, her opportunity to prove her devotion to Adam by supporting his curiosity about the industry. I could frame it as therapeutic, a way for them to process their complicated feelings together.
I smile at my reflection in the darkened laptop screen. I know exactly how to approach this. I'll need to be delicate, sympathetic. Poor Lana, so desperate to keep Adam, would likely jump at any suggestion that might strengthen their bond.
I reach for my phone again and compose a text to Lana.
Still on for the salon at 2? You sound like you could use some girl time after everything.
Her response comes almost immediately.
Yes, please. I need to talk to someone who understands this life.
Perfect. She's vulnerable, seeking validation from someone who "gets it." I'll be her understanding friend, her industry confidante who just happens to have the perfect solution to her relationship troubles.
I close my laptop, tucking it carefully into my designer bag. Adam's fate is sealed, though he doesn't know it yet. Soon, he'll be mine entirely, serving me, living for me, loving me as he was always meant to.
—
The salon is one of those high-end establishments where privacy comes at a premium. Perfect for the kind of conversation I have planned. I arrive fifteen minutes early, ensuring we get the secluded corner stations.
When Lana walks in, the evidence of her emotional turmoil is written all over her face despite her attempts to hide it with makeup. Her eyes seem to have lost some of their luster, and there's a fragility to her movements that wasn't there before.
"Morgan," she says, her voice brightening with relief at seeing me. She slides into the chair beside mine, immediately kicking off her sandals. "Thank you so much for suggesting this. It's been the most awful twenty-four hours."
I reach over and squeeze her hand, the picture of sympathetic friendship. "I saw the podcast. Amber went way off script with those questions about Leo."
Lana's eyes widen. "You watched it? Oh god, it was a disaster." She leans her head back as the technician begins filling the foot bath. "Adam saw it too. He disappeared all night. I thought he might have left me for good."
I pretend to look shocked, as if I hadn't orchestrated the entire podcast fiasco myself. "But he came back, right?" I ask, leaning closer with perfectly calibrated concern. "How are things between you two now?"
Lana's shoulders slump as the technician begins massaging her feet. "We talked it out. He was so hurt about Leo, about me keeping it from him." She bites her lower lip, blinking rapidly to keep tears at bay. "I thought I'd lost him, Morgan. I've never been so scared."
"But you didn't," I prompt gently, maintaining my facade of supportive friendship. "He forgave you?"
"He said he's not going anywhere," she whispers, and the naked relief in her voice makes something cold twist inside me. "But I feel like I'm walking on eggshells. Like one wrong move, and everything will fall apart."
I nod sympathetically, calculating my next move. "Did he ask you to quit?"
Lana's eyes meet mine, vulnerable and uncertain. "He asked what I would say if he did. I told him I couldn't, my contract, our finances..." She trails off, looking down at her hands. "I think he understands, but it's eating him up inside."
"I'm sure Adam has his own insecurities about your work," I say delicately, leaning closer as the manicurist begins filing my nails. I lower my voice to a confidential whisper. "Men can be so fragile about size comparisons. He must wonder if he... measures up to your co-stars."
Lana's eyes widen for a moment before she lets out a small laugh that catches me off guard.
"Oh god, that's actually the least of our problems," she says, shaking her head. "Though I guess most guys would worry about that."
I press on, determined to find a crack in their relationship. "Well, it's a legitimate concern, isn't it? I mean, you work with men who are selected specifically for their... attributes."
"Honestly?" Lana lowers her voice, glancing around to make sure no one is listening. "I actually have to fake my reactions sometimes with Adam.
She quickly adds. "But not in the way people think."
My eyebrow arches with genuine surprise. "What do you mean?"
"Like, I have to tone it down with Adam," she admits, a slight blush coloring her cheeks. "I'm terrified he'll think I'm treating him like I'm on set, you know? That I'm performing rather than just being with him. So I actually hold back a lot."
This isn't going as planned. I struggle to keep my expression neutral as I try a more direct approach.
"But surely the men you work with are more imposing?" I press, emphasizing the word with a meaningful look.
Lana shrugs, seemingly unfazed by my implications. "His size isn't impressive at all, but I'm so thankful he's not bruising my cervix all the goddamn time like at work." Her expression softens, becoming almost dreamy. "And he hits all the right spots, so I love it. It's perfect for me, actually."
I feel my smile freeze on my face. This wholesome appreciation wasn't what I was hoping for.
"Besides," she continues, oblivious to my frustration, "sex with Adam is about connection. When we're together, I don't have to worry about camera angles or looking pretty while I'm cumming. It's just... real."
I shift in my seat, struggling to hide my frustration. This approach clearly isn't working. Lana's devotion to Adam seems unshakable, but there must be a vulnerability I can exploit.
"That's beautiful," I say, forcing warmth into my voice. "But after everything that's happened, he must still be hurting about Leo."
Lana's expression crumples. "I know. I just wish there was something I could do to make it right."
Perfect. There's my opening.
"You know," I say, leaning forward conspiratorially, "there might actually be a way for you to help him understand your world better. A way to even the score a little."
"What do you mean?" Lana asks, her eyes suddenly alert with interest.
I pause dramatically as if the idea is just occurring to me. "Well, I've been thinking about my final scene before retirement. The studio wants something special, something different."
The manicurist files my nails into perfect ovals as I continue, "What if Adam were in it? With me?"
Lana's mouth drops open. "What?"
"Just hear me out," I say, raising my hand. "If he's struggling with the idea of you filming with other people, especially Leo, maybe experiencing it himself would help him understand. And I'm retiring, so there's no threat of it becoming a regular thing."
I watch her face carefully, seeing the conflict play across her features.
"But Adam would never..." she begins.
"Are you sure?" I interrupt. "Men are curious creatures. And it would be a controlled environment. Nothing extreme, just a simple femdom scene where he wouldn't even have to do much."
Lana bites her lip, considering. "I don't know..."
"Think about it," I press. "If he feels what it's like to be on camera, maybe he'll understand your experience better. He could even wear a mask. Plus, with me, you know he'd be safe. I'd take care of him." I touch her hand gently. "You trust me, don't you?"
Her eyes meet mine, vulnerable and uncertain. "Of course, I trust you, Morgan."
"Then at least consider it," I say, softening my voice. "It could be healing for both of you. And honestly, after what you've been through with the Leo situation, giving Adam this experience might help balance things out."
Lana's brow furrows as she contemplates my suggestion. "You really think it would help him understand?"
"I do," I say with conviction. "And more importantly, it might help him feel less powerless in all this. Right now, he's just watching from the sidelines, feeling like a spectator in your life. This would give him agency."
Lana stares down at her freshly painted nails, her teeth worrying her bottom lip. I can see the conflict playing across her face, the desperate desire to heal her relationship warring with her instinctive possessiveness.
"I don't know, Morgan. I really don't want him sleeping with anyone else. Even for a scene." She looks up, vulnerability naked in her eyes. "Is that hypocritical?"
I reach across the space between our chairs, placing my hand gently on her knee. "I imagine he feels the same way about you," I say softly, letting the implication hang in the air between us. "Yet he's tried to accept your career."
The barb finds its mark. Lana's shoulders slump slightly, guilt washing over her face.
"You're right," she whispers after a long pause. Her eyes meet mine, resignation replacing resistance. "Okay. I'll... I'll agree to it. If he wants to."
I fight to keep the triumph from showing on my face. "That's very brave of you, Lana."
She shakes her head, giving me a weak smile. "But I can't just spring this on him myself. It'd be so awkward." Her fingers nervously twist in her lap. "Could you maybe come over for dinner tonight? To meet him properly? I'm not sure he'd even want to do it, and I wouldn't know how to explain it right."
"Of course," I say, squeezing her hand reassuringly. "What are friends for?"
This is too easy.