Ricochet Chapter Eleven


Rick trudged to the make-up trailer, yawning: yet another early start without waking up with a sub in his bed, or a sweet ass to spank. After nearly three weeks of this he felt like he was walking through mud. Petra was watching his every move at work, and the paparazzi were watching his every move the minute he left the studio.


He felt stifled, listless and bored, and he woke up every morning with a headache that left him foggy for the rest of the day.


“Sheesh.” Estelle was in the trailer having her make-up applied when he walked in. “Looks like someone had a bad night.”


“Bad night, bad week, bad fucking life,” he snapped, thumping himself down in the seat next to hers and sprawling there, gazing at himself moodily in the mirror.


“Well, there’s only one cure.” Estelle gave a throaty chuckle that sounded completely obscene, as only she could.


“Kill myself?”


“Hell no, sweetheart! That’s just admitting defeat. No, what you need is to find a nice sub and fuck their brains out.” She gave a ribald laugh and leaned towards him. “If I was thirty years younger, I’d let you tie me to the bed and have your way with me.”


“Oh, I agree with the cure, Estelle, but how the hell can I find a sub to oblige when I’m under Petra’s house arrest?”


“Oh, please!” Estelle waved a hand in the air. “One does not have to go to clubs to meet beautiful sexual partners. I met my best lovers on various film sets over the years.”


“I don’t think that really works for me here,” Rick said. “I mean, Daniel’s great, but you know, no. And the twins are cute, but they’re looking for twin doms, and some gigantic big love affair, so that rules me out on both counts.”


“What about Matthew?” Estelle asked.


Rick laughed. “Matt? No! He’s my best friend.”


“And why would that make him an unsuitable lover?” Estelle raised an eyebrow. “My fourth spouse, Erica, was my best friend, and we had a very happy marriage until she died. I’d almost given up on finding anyone who could handle me, but she tamed me. No other dom has measured up since,” she said sadly. “I shouldn’t really have married spouses five and six. But Erica… what that woman didn’t know about Japanese rope bondage wasn’t worth knowing.” Estelle gave a happy sigh. “Amazing knots, tied in the most deliciously arousing places.” Rick stared at her. “Sorry – I got carried away.” Estelle winked. “So, if it worked for me and my best friend, why not for you and yours?”


“Because I’m me,” Rick said flatly. “And I’ve got no intention of fucking Matt up with a bunch of romantic promises I’ll break.”


“Why would you break them?”


“Because I will.” Rick shrugged. “Anyway, Matt’s too sensible to think of me that way.”


“Ah yes. Matt’s the most sensible kid I’ve ever met, such an old head on young shoulders. I swear the boy’s never had any fun in his life.” Estelle shook her head sadly. “But surely you must have a little black book with the numbers of your old conquests in it, Rick? When I was a young sub, newly arrived in this town, I couldn’t move for suitors. Had about five little black books, with some very famous names in them.” She winked at him and tapped the side of her nose knowingly. “Those were the days! I fucked hundreds of beautiful doms and don’t regret a second of it. Nowadays, you probably keep all that in an e-phone or whatever it is young folks use to keep track of their beaus. Why don’t you call up a few exes and see if you can arrange a reprise of your good times together, huh?”


“I don’t do reruns,” Rick said automatically.


“Maybe not, but you’re in a pickle right now, my darling, and you might have to change your ways a little – yes?” She stood up, deposited a little kiss on the side of his head, and then left the trailer.


She did have a point. Rick took out his cell phone and flicked through it. He didn’t usually take subs’ numbers but some had stolen his phone when he was asleep and put themselves into his address book anyway, anxious to snare a TV star. One more night with someone he hardly remembered from the first time around wouldn’t put much of a dent in his no reruns rule, so he called one of the numbers. A sub called Sherry, who he vaguely remembered as having been a real firecracker in bed, answered.


“Hey, Sherry. It’s Rick – Rick O’Shea,” he said in his sexiest voice. “It’s your lucky day. The handcuffs are ready and there’s a play collar with your name on it hanging from my finger right now. All you have to do is say the word.”


There was a shocked pause, and he grinned to himself, imagining her surprise at getting his call.


“Really? You fuck my brains out, promise you’ll call, and then I hear nothing from you for six months, and you think you can just call me and I’ll drop everything and come running? I don’t think so, buddy.”


The call was disconnected abruptly. So, that hadn’t gone as well as he’d hoped. He tried another number, and a man’s voice answered.


“Oh hi, I’m flattered, Rick, but you shouldn’t have left it so long. I found myself a lovely dom, and she collared me last month. She’s so lovely.” The man sighed happily down the phone, and Rick made polite noises and ended the call.


On the third call, a grumpy sounding female voice answered.


“Hey, Marlene,” Rick said, immediately going into his patter. “It’s Rick O’Shea. Remember that night you spent in heaven in my arms? Well, we could do it all over again.”


“No, we fucking couldn’t, asshole,” the voice replied. “Marlene is my sub now, and I don’t care who you are – don’t fucking call this number again.”


“Not going so well, huh?” a pretty make-up boy asked, coming over to get Rick ready for his first scene.


“You could say that.” Rick glared at his phone.


“So, we’re giving you a bloody nose,” the kid said brightly.


Rick winced. “I think I’ve already been given one.”


“Aw, c’mon – it’s not that bad.” The young man smiled at him, and Rick remembered what Estelle had said about finding someone at work and took a proper look at him. He was probably in his early twenties, nice looking, with a very spankable ass. He wasn’t wearing a collar, and he gave off a distinctly subby vibe.


Rick flashed him a broad smile. “So… you’re new here, aren’t you? What’s your name, sweetheart?” he purred.


The boy laughed. “My name’s Tim, but don’t even think about it, Rick. I’ve heard all about you, and I prefer long-term relationships to one-night stands, however good that ‘night in heaven’ might be.” He grinned. “I mean, it’s still only one night, right? I think I’m worth more than that.”


Rick gave a little grunt. “Yeah, you are, honey. You stick with that attitude, and you won’t end up alone and grumpy like me.”


Tim patted his shoulder sympathetically, and Rick sighed; it seemed like the entire world was against him right now. Tim began applying his bloody nose, and Rick picked up a magazine that someone had left lying around and glanced at it.


Torn between two doms! the headline proclaimed, over a picture of Matt and Karl talking intently, their heads close together. Karl was holding a plate of cake in one hand, his fork raised as if he was about to feed it to Matt. Rick recognized the picture from Karl’s recent birthday party, and he knew nothing happened between Matt and Karl then, but the intimacy of the photo implied that they were sharing a plate and for some reason that annoyed the hell out of him.


Couples only shared a plate when they were in a serious relationship. It was a courtship ritual and not one that Rick had ever had any interest in before. The idea of hand-feeding a sub wasn’t something he’d ever expected to do, or had any wish to do, so why did the idea of Karl hand-feeding Matt bother him so much? Especially when he knew it hadn’t actually happened.


Next to it was a picture of Matt and himself, taken outside his house a few weeks ago. They were both sitting on the Harley, with Matt nestled between his arms. It looked equally cozy, giving every appearance that he and Matt were an item. No wonder the magazine’s readers believed the crap that was made up about them.


Between the two pictures was the image of a tear down the middle, separating them, tying into the Torn between two doms! headline.


Rick flicked through the magazine to find the article.


Is Matthew Lake the luckiest sub alive? The Collar Crime cutie has two of the hottest doms in town begging him to wear their collar. Who should he choose? Super-sexy and smooth Brit Karl Morgan? Or rough, ready and randy Rick O’Shea? We asked our online readers to decide!


“Rough, ready and randy?” Rick rolled his eyes, feeling irrationally annoyed. He knew it was all garbage, yet it rankled all the same. He scanned the selection of reader comments irritably.


I think he should go for Karl, one gushed. That gorgeous British accent makes me go weak at the knees! Karl Morgan can tie me to the bed any time.


Definitely Karl, another one said. Because, let’s face it, Rick is damaged goods. Every sub in town has slept with him.


“Damaged goods?” Rick threw the magazine down and shoved his chair back. “That’ll do, Tim. It looks great.” He glanced at himself in the mirror to see that he now had a convincing black eye and fake blood stuck to his nose and jaw.


Damaged goods sounded just about right.


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