Page 48 of Interview with a Sadist
“Oh, of course,” I answer, standing up with dread in my chest as Chase turns around to lead the way to his office.
Shit. What is this going to be about?
Chase takes his seat behind the desk while I claim mine in front of it, and once we’re comfortable, he stares at me with a furrow in his brow. If he’s trying to hide the giant question mark on his face, he’s failing miserably. His expression is so intense, it actually makes my face scrunch up.
“You okay, Chase?” I ask.
“How are you, Bree?” he counters. “I feel like you haven’t quite been yourself lately.”
My eyebrows raise. “I haven’t? How do you figure?”
“Well, usually I don’t have to seek you out for updates about a story,” Chase says. “I know you never really wanted this story, Bree. I know you’re a more conservative woman, and I know the subject matter was a bit much for you. So, I just wanted to make sure you weren’t having a problem completing the assignment.”
“Absolutely not,” I fire back quickly. “Chase, this story has been … life-altering.”
“Life-altering?”
“Yes. Nolan is amazing, and seeing everything that goes on in the club really opened my eyes to things I would’ve never considered …learningabout before. It’s been out of this world.”
Chase pauses, that old look of confusion coming back full force, and I wonder if I may have said too much. My excitement about Nolan and learning I’m a masochist has me spilling information I should be keeping close to the vest, and I wish I could pull every word back and swallow them down again.
“That’sinteresting,” Chase says, sinking me even further into my seat. “How’s the story coming along then?”
If I sunk any lower, I’d be sitting on the floor.
“Umm … the story is going … you know, it’sgoing. Sometimes stories go, you know? Go here, go there. Stories can go all around whenever they get to going—”
“Bree, stop. Why haven’t you submitted a draft for this yet?” Chase asks, dicing through my bullshit. “This is what I mean when I say you haven’t quite been yourself. I didn’t expect a draft the next day, but it’s been over a week, and I haven’t seen anything on it. I want to publish this while the interest is still high. So, what have you got?”
Explicitly detailed memories of what I’ve done with Nolan flood my mind and threaten to steal my focus. What have I got? I’ve got the experience of bending over on Nolan’s couch while holding a wand to my clit, while he flogged me to an orgasm. I’ve got a sore chest from him slapping me last night, and I’ve got the memory of him caressing my skin and taking care of me after we were done. I’ve got an attraction so strong that I can’t even begin to explain it.
“Bree, you okay?” Chase says. I shake my head again, realizing I just lost myself inside my own mind. Nolan has that effect, but I still don’t know how to write about it.
“I’m fine, but the truth is that I have nothing right now, because I haven’t written anything,” I admit, because it’s easier than coming up with a lie on the spot. “I’ve recorded a ton of Q&A, but I haven’t dissected it and written anything down in a manner that would substantiate a draft for the story. I’m sorry, Chase, but I’m on it, I promise. I just need a little more time.”
He pauses to glare at me again, and I realize I have a new pet peeve.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks, frowning as he tilts his head to the side like a confused puppy.
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”
He pauses again, and I let out a loud exhale to let him know that it’s annoying.
“Don’t get lost in it, Bree,” he says. “It’s best to just keep a story a story—separatefrom your life.”
My heart drops into my feet.
“Of course,” I say weakly, my voice sounding like a scared teenager who knows she’s caught but won’t admit it until all of the evidence is on the table—too ashamed to tell the truth.
“Okay,” Chase says. “I want a draft by the middle of next week.”
“Right. Yes. Absolutely,” I say, nodding my head.
“All right,” he says. There’s a brief pause between us before he nods toward the door. “You better get back to it then.”
“Right. Yeah. Thanks, Chase,” I say, before scurrying out of the office with my tail between my legs.
I slam myself into my seat once I’m back at the desk. I should’ve known from the moment I saw Melissa standing on the sidewalk that today would be trash. It seems she has cursed the entire thing, because now I’ve embarrassed myself in front of my boss and committed to a deadline I probably won’t be able to meet. Chase has given me less than a week to turn it in, but I still don’t even know where to begin. The cloud above my head grows darker and it begins to pour.
