CHAPTER THREE
Lucas
A week later, mid-January, I had signed the legal contract that bound me to my uncle’s game and was making myself comfortable in front of a blazing fire in the den at the Céleste Chalet in Vail, Colorado.
I’d accepted that I was a pawn in the game and arranged my life to fit in under a week, appointing a trusted colleague to oversee my business engagements. It would all be worth it in the end.
The chalet was massive and was beautifully decorated for the upcoming holiday season — if you like hearts and shit. Valentine’s Day… the day of love. Just the thought of it made me curl my lip.
A stiff butler, dressed in formal butler attire, entered the great room. “Your dinner is served in the dining room, sir.” His tone was so formal, it was obvious he’d gone to butler school to hone it to perfection.
The thought of sitting down to drinks and a light dinner with Mason was painful. Since this was day one of too many to get my head around, I decided to make the best of it. We were served salad, salmon with tarragon sauce, and Sauvignon Blanc and ate in awkward silence for a while.
“We have to live here with these women for a month and compete in god only knows what ways. You know I have more talent with women.” He took a bite of salmon with his fork facing downward — a European habit that got on my nerves. “I can take any woman I set my mind to away from you, Lucas. The past tells the tale.”
I bristled at his reference to Amber. Mason was trying to undermine my confidence. I laughed and hoped it sounded completely confident. “The old man is nuts. If he chooses total coo-coo brains, you might need me here to protect you.”
Mason huffed. “I’ve seen the women he puts in his magazines. I’d go a few rounds with most of them.” He threw his hands out and drew two curves in the air for the curves the women were sure to sport.
He was right about the magazine. The women Uncle featured in his magazines were gorgeous — all tits, tiny waists, fucking legs for days, nice round butts. Who didn’t want to get a woman like that on her back?
It was the other women I was interested in, the ones he wasn’t considering. The ones featured on the website with a streak of freak running through their blood. And if she had more than a streak, it was only a few weeks. Who cared if the one picked for me was wild if she had a ball gag in her mouth and her hands were tied to a post. I could deal with any kind of crazy for a short amount of time, especially since I was fairly certain we’d be having a fuckathon. Just thinking about it made my dick hard.
“You really think you’re going to spend a month with a centerfold?” I almost snorted through my nose. “More like you’ll end up at the submissive end of a bullwhip like some of the guys on the website.” Okay, so I was exaggerating, but Mason didn’t know that. I’d guessed correctly that he didn’t check out the website like I did.
Mason stopped chewing and looked up at me. “Uncle has a sick imagination, but he wouldn’t…” I could practically see his mind filter through all the extreme things he had heard about the site over the years. “Surely not.”
“You seriously think he picked a homecoming queen for you? Probably the opposite. You really think you can spend all this time with someone you don’t like? Someone who might want to handcuff you to the bed and use battery operated tools on you?” I made a zzzt sound as I bored a hole in the middle of my salmon steak with my knife.
He pointed his fork at me. “Shut up.”
I laughed. “Women are moldable, Lucas. If you had half my charm, you wouldn’t be worried about chains and whips.” I could so go two weeks with a girl in chains… where could I sign up for that? “There’s nothing wrong with a little chains and whips, cuz.”
Mason shook his head. “He’s the designer of this competition. Can you imagine what he’s going to have us do?” This was probably the crux of his worries, but I didn’t want him to know it was also mine. Even I didn’t want to imagine what my crazy Uncle Harv was planning.
I liked my fair share of naughty but having my uncle dictate it was heading toward creepy town.
“Yeah, that might get a little intense.” I took a bite to keep my mouth busy so I couldn’t say more.
“A little intense? Have you seen some of the shit on his website?”
“I happen to like Hedon very much,” I mentioned, leaving that fact there for him to digest.
He whipped out his iPhone and asked Siri to bring up Hedon.com. “Okay, here’s a recent headline for you: DIY… Do It Yourself Dildos for the Daring. The article shows how to make dildos the chick can shove up a man’s ass. But it mentions how she has to “toss the salad” first.” His voice rose a caliber. “You want to tempt this kind of crazy? You actually like stuff like this?”
“When on the island,” I offered as I lifted a piece of salad with my fork and slipped it into my mouth.
A spark of competitiveness lit in Mason’s eyes. Mason and I were about to go head to head against one another, what we did best. And my uncle, being litigious to a fault, had surely outlined rules for engagement which were almost unbearable.
As it turned out, I was right.
Uncle Harv joined us in the library for after dinner drinks. He’d just arrived and looked a little weary reclining in the old-fashioned wing chair, and I wondered again if he was feeling all right. Before I had a chance to inquire, he greeted us in his usual booming manner and moved straight to the topic of the contest as he ordered us to sit.
“Boys, I want you to realize that though the nature of your assignments will be almost entirely sexual in nature, you will be under strict rules and regulations.”
Almost entirely sexual?
Hearing these words come from my uncle’s mouth was disturbing but also a dream come true. An entire month of almost entirely sexual assignments. There really was a god.
“Your partners for the game will be here at any moment. Before you are introduced, I have a list of instructions that will need to be followed. Then the competition can begin.”
Mason smiled. “Then the game will begin tonight?”
My uncle frowned. “This isn’t a game, son. It’s a competition, yes, with the perks of two beautiful women added, but it’s serious. The end result will dictate who takes over the company I’ve spent my life building.”
“Yes, sir.” Mason nodded, and his expression took on a more serious look.
Uncle glanced at me, and I guessed he could tell I was ready. “Rule number one, it is forbidden to leave the chalet grounds without permission during the game, if you do so you will be disqualified. Also, you will be given clothing and won’t wear your own, and you will have to hand over your phones.”
I ached to stand and argue Harvey’s logic. I had a certain image I liked to portray. I adjusted my tie and hoped suits were in the new wardrobe. I’d been planning on making an excuse to go check on my business at some point, and my heart dropped as I realized I was truly stuck here for a month with no outside communication. With Mason. And a couple of bimbos.
“You will accept the woman I…” Uncle Harvey continued, “chose for you without complaint and agree to being filmed at all times, except in the bedroom. For sexual challenges, a rating card will be provided for the women that will weigh heavily in who wins that round. I assure you the strictest privacy is in place.”
I had to try. “About the cell phones—”
“Ahh, yes, I almost forgot. You are only allowed to use cell phones for the first week. After that, phones as well as computers, tablets, and other devices will be confiscated. If there is anything urgent, it will be screened, and the game will be paused to handle the urgent matter. However, barring any emergency, you won’t be allowed to communicate with the outside world at all until the competition has concluded.”
I could feel sweat gathering on my brow and beneath the back of my shirt. As excited about the entire arrangement as I was — a month of possibly unlimited secret pleasures with a woman as ready as I was to play — I was expected to hand over everything that made me who I was. It put me in a vulnerable position. But I couldn’t forfeit the game. The prize was so coveted. I needed to win at all costs.
“I don’t think either of you have been to Céleste Chalet since you were kids,” Uncle commented, bringing home the point that Mason and I had been at war for a very long time. “I bought the place because I loved skiing and making a profit on a passion was always a great sideline. We have closed the resort so we can host this little competition and will reopen after Valentine’s Day. I wanted my family to enjoy the chalet, which never really happened. Now, I’m forcing your enjoyment. One doesn’t live forever, I’d like to see it used as it was intended at least once.” He laughed, knowing something we obviously didn’t.
Mason and I looked at one another, united in our discomfort.
I felt the pressure mounting as my chest tightened and my breathing constricted. What the hell was I getting myself into? I wanted to run his empire, but not be “all his” in any scenario. I had shit I wanted and needed to do, and I didn’t want those things regulated by anyone.
“You’ve done a great job, Uncle Harv, letting us know what we can’t do, but can you give us an idea of what we will be doing?” Damn, my voice was shaking. I clenched my fists. I wouldn’t let Uncle’s shit unravel me.
There was a twinkle in Uncle Harv’s eye. He was actually getting off on seeing me squirm, crazy ol’ bastard. He’d put a lot of time and thought into this, which I soon discovered, as he took great pains to explain what our next few days would look like.
“The game will consist of twelve tasks, six I have devised and six the two of you will come up with individually. You must create these tasks by thinking of ways you can challenge yourself, each other and the women who’ll be playing with you. Each team will have to complete all of the tasks together in order to stay in the game and move on.”
Mason interrupted with another resounding note of confidence. “Now you’re talking, Uncle Harv.”
I rolled my eyes. These two were from Mars. Who did this shit in real life? Unless you were on “Survivor” playing for a million dollars with a camera crew and a nearly scripted experience… And then it dawned on me. The filming, the CEO position — this was “Survivor,” just of a different variety. Would Uncle Harv be turning this into a reality show? The question bothered me.
“What kind of tasks are you thinking of exactly? And this won’t, by any chance, be made public, will it?” I asked for clarity.
“Well, as far as creating tasks go, just choose anything that isn’t criminal, won’t cause any lasting bodily injury, and won’t make the women you’re playing with want to pack up and go home. The sky’s the limit outside of the rules already mentioned. The challenges should include sexual play, fantasy, and alternative lifestyle choices. They may even veer into the darker realms of sexual exploration, but again, don’t scare off the ladies. And yes, why wouldn’t some pieces of this game be made public? Everything within reason in that sphere of taste I think would be appropriate.”
“Does it have to be whips and chains?” Mason asked.
What’s wrong with whips and chains?
“Certainly not, son. Whatever you deem worthy of a challenge… could be knitting, I don’t care. It just has to fit within the guidelines.” He gave a lecherous grin.
“What parts of this are going to be broadcast?” I had to ask, my heart was palpitating so fiercely. I’d been so careful to keep my sexual appetite under wraps. Would my reputation suffer from my Uncle’s twisted sense of humor?
“The appropriate parts, none of the naked bits, I assure you,” Uncle said, nodding as if he knew exactly what was bothering me.
Excitement built in me even as trepidation rose higher. I could tell by Mason’s questioning he was not comfortable with BDSM, or the dominant, subservient sexual lifestyle, but I thrived on it.
I knew the good looks and powerful persuasion I possessed was enough to convince any woman to try whatever I wanted and push her to the very limits my expertise would allow. Mason, on the other hand, would be challenged beyond his ability and would most likely fail — after I wrote challenges that he couldn’t win.
I had the upper hand. Excitement shot through me at what was to come.
As I glanced over at Mason, he looked as if he felt the same way. He even had the audacity to smirk at me. He had no idea what I was going to hit him with.
“Bottom line is, I need one of you to win this and both of you to come on board as soon as possible. The more family I have in this thing, the better.”
I was ready to move on, but the idea of handing over the reins of my investment business to a manager was a shock. I liked having control over everything in my life. Even thinking about giving up the lead in business I’d started was hard.
“Surely you don’t want us to give up our own enterprises?” I asked incredulously, knowing my cousin had nothing he had to worry about.
My uncle’s voice took on compassion. “I understand your concern, Lucas. You have built a commendable business of your own. I’d suggest you find a way to marry them. Find a trustworthy successor as I am doing with the two of you and lock it in with some cross trading. I’m sure there’s a thing or two my company has to offer that is of interest to your investors.” He winked at me in his signature style.
Uncle Harv was an interesting man. One moment he seemed button-downed and by the books, then the next his devilish side and his sexual interests popped out. It was hard to believe a man of his age still had them, and even veered toward the deviant.
“I’m all on board. I’ll create my share of the challenges tonight.” As I said it, I held Mason’s gaze, making sure I communicated that they would be challenges he would not win.
“Very good. My secretary will be staying here at the chalet to ensure the challenges are met. A host of other staff will be arriving shortly. Trust me, your needs will be well met.” Our uncle gave us verbal reassurance, but his expression was surly and conniving. “Have you any last questions?” I could tell by the look on his face, we weren’t going to get any straight answers.
Mason raised his hand. What was this, kindergarten?
“What if we don’t like who you choose? I mean, there’s a lot riding on this competition, don’t you think we should choose our own partners?” He was being his typical cocky self, and I loved it. Go ahead, Mason, piss Uncle Harv off.
“No. You can’t be trusted. I’ve spent my whole life creating the most successful publishing empire in the world, I’m not letting a cocky little shithead and a control freak fuck it up. I’ve got my reasons for doing things this way. I don’t care if you dislike who I choose for you because I’ve chosen a woman I think both of you need.” I watched as Uncle Harv smirked and wondered if there was more to his concocted competition than met the eye. “Hey, what did one boob say to the other boob?”
Mason slid his eyes sideways to me then back to Uncle. “You’re my breast friend?”
“Impressive,” said Unc, gesturing toward me, “but say it to him. You boobs need to be each other’s best friends before this is over.”
Mason blanched, his face turning a light shade of gray.
We’d both been dressed down well enough that when my uncle excused himself to meet the incoming women, Mason and I were left speechless.
“What the hell is he thinking?” Mason finally asked, so incensed his face was now turning red.
“Like he said, it’s his business, his rules. You don’t have to compete if you don’t want to.” How great would it be if he just ditched now before we even started?
Before I could continue on that subject, the door my uncle exited from opened again, and a long-legged beauty stepped in. Then another.
I stood, barely breathing, forgetting the hope that Mason’d throw a tantrum or storm out. Instead, my interest and his both focused on the women.
I barely registered the first, only to note that she was centerfold worthy. My senses homed in on the second, the one with long chestnut hair and hesitant blue eyes. Despite the fact that the blonde was more my usual type, I felt drawn to the other. She was beautiful and had a timidness about her that I liked. She didn’t seem to be the take-charge girl the blonde presented herself as being.
The brunette looked artistic, quirky — softer, more vulnerable. Out of her element. My mouth watered. And entirely not my type. She was a little too bohemian for my tastes but had beautiful natural tits and a tight stomach. Something about her made my pulse speed up, made me want to get to the challenges my uncle had dreamed up in hopes that I could taste her.
God, I wanted to put my mouth on that long, graceful body and feast.