Close Up and Personal by JS Taylor

through his hair.
    “I didn’t have sex with you because you don’t have a great deal of experience,” he says.
    I try not to look offended.
    “That’s not a bad thing,” he adds. “It’s just very different to what I’m used to.”
    He is staring steadily into my eyes.
    “I have never wanted to fuck anyone as much as I want to fuck you,” he says.
    I swallow. Oh .
    “But in my relationships , I am the man and the woman is the woman.”
    Ok. So he’s some old-fashioned guy. But I knew that. Didn’t I?
    “That means that I also wield the power to exercise discipline.”
    Discipline? I think back to the rumours about him on set. The controlling nature. Dictating who his actresses date.
    “Is this related to how you work?” I ask.
    He shakes his head. “This is something different entirely. Which is why I do not form relationships with my actresses.”
    He takes a sip of wine. Something in his eyes has changed. As though he is assessing me.
    “Do you remember when you first acted Juliet for me?” he says.
    I nod, taking a sip of wine. I need it.
    “That is how I would have you in our relationship,” he says.
    My eyes widen. “You want me to plead with you? To beg you?”
    “There would be times when you would need to beg me, yes,” he says, choosing his words carefully. “But I more refer to the wider context of that relationship. Juliet is submissive to Lord Capulet’s will. She is his to do what he wants with.”
    What ?
    “But Juliet doesn’t do exactly what Lord Capulet wants,” I counter, feeling all at sea in the conversation. I have no idea what he’s talking about. “She pleads with him, but she’s also contradicting his will.”
    “Very well-observed,” says James. “In our relationship, you would be mine to do what I will with. And if you defied me, I would punish you. Discipline you.”
    Discipline me?
    “What do you mean by discipline?” I whisper. My mouth is dry and my heart is beating fast. What is he suggesting?
    “Physically discipline you,” he says. “In a manner in which I see fit.”
    “What if I don’t want to be disciplined?” I say.
    “Then you have every right to refuse,” says James. His voice sounds casual , as though he’s scheduling an office meeting. “But I think a relationship between us might be difficult.”
    He looks apologetic for a moment. Then he sighs.
    “Something in you, Isabella, makes me gentle. Gentler than I have ever been. But I think it is too late to change the man I am. I don’t deny that I want you. But it must be on my terms.”
    “What do you mean by physical discipline?” I ask, wondering how deranged this conversation can get.
    “A manner in which I see fit,” he repeats.
    “ Explain to me an example,” I demand flatly.
    His eyes flick to mine, assessing, testing.
    “Your lateness,” he says.
    “Yes.” I’m not sure I like how this is going.
    “Lateness is a sign of disobedience,” he says. “That first time I had come to collect you in the car. I was exercising courtesy. You were late. That was discourteous.”
    “I … I’m sorry,” I say, uncertainly. It’s true that lateness is a bad habit of mine. I’d never thought of it as impolite.
    “Do you know how much I wanted to pull down your panties and give you a good spanking in that car?” he says.
    Oh.
    I flush crimson. But there’s another feeling too. I can’t deny it. His words arouse me.
    “That,” he says, “is what I mean by discipline.” And he places a forkful of food in his mouth.
    I find myself standing up. I feel dizzy, confused. It’s all coming to me at once. I like this guy. More than I’ve ever liked anyone. And he wants to turn me into some medieval female stereotype.
    “I wouldn’t share this with you,” adds James, “if I did not see something in you which wants to comply to my wishes.”
    Something in me? Sure I’m quiet and I let people boss me around. But do I want to be spanked for showing up a few minutes late? It’s