The Shoot Pt. 02

The Shoot. Part 2

My original intention was to have 'The Shoot' be a one part, stand alone story. I often think that sometimes it can be better to have readers imagine for themselves what happens next. But given the number of comments and texts I received asking for a sequel, including from my own muse who kept popping ideas into my head, I couldn't help but put my own imaginings to print. So here are my thoughts on what happens next in 'The Shoot. Part 2'. I hope it doesn't disappoint.

As always, it would be best to read the original story first, to better understand and appreciate the characters and happenings in this one.

*************

That first Saturday was magical. He arrived at my door at 8 AM on the dot.

"Good Morning, Alan" I greeted him with a smile, inordinately thrilled within that he had indeed come. I had no desire to appear, or be, nasty, stern or domineering. That was not me. I would be demanding and expect obedience, and as long as I received it to my satisfaction I would always be pleasant, and at times when I so wished, even more.

"Good morning, Miss Angela" he replied with that delightful sheepish smile of his own. He was dressed in jeans and a work shirt. I didn't know what his expectations or hopes were, but I had no intention of having him toil in the raw. We were far, if ever, from that point.

I ushered him in and gave him a quick tour of my apartment. It was a one bedroom, with a reasonably sized living room, a dining area, and a full sized kitchen. There was a fair sized bathroom off the hallway to my bedroom, and next to it an enclosed nook with a washer and dryer. Also, two storage closets in the hallway, and a larger one in my bedroom. It wasn't fancy or much, but with night school it already stretched my salary with tips as a waitress. That's why my part time 'acting' was so useful and necessary.

The place really was a mess. I had had a class the night before, after the shoot, and I hadn't had any chance to tidy up, so it was even more unkempt than usual. Perfect for my needs today.

"I've drawn up a list of your chores for the day" I said to him as I handed it to him, after we had completed our circuit. "Every room is to be thoroughly cleaned, and there are some other tasks there as well."

"I hope to complete them all beyond your expectations, Miss Angela" he said upon reading it.

"Well, I expect no less. Even beyond" I grinned back. "I'll be in the living room, catching up on my emails and texts, and doing some reading. Maybe even take a nap. It's been an exhausting week."

"I'll try to be as quiet as possible, to not bother you, Ma'am."

"That would be nice. But feel free to ask any questions along the way. I don't want any mistakes made out of ignorance. That wouldn't please me at all. Do you have any now?"

"Not that I can think of yet, Ma'am."

"Good, then it's time for you to get to it. Hip hop."

I smiled again, and turned to settle down on my living room couch with my lap top and cell. I had no real plans for a nap, but I also wasn't going to follow him around and watch over his shoulder as he worked. How relaxing would that be? I would be making a full inspection at the end of the day, but I did intend to keep furtive track of his doings throughout. That was an important part of the kick.

He made his way first down to my bedroom, and for a long while it was silent in there. I imagined him changing my used bed linens and making my bed with fresh ones, and then picking up my strewn worn clothes, before straightening up my closet and my mussy bureau top and night stand. After a time he closed the door and I heard the muffled sound of the vacuum go on. He really was taking seriously trying to be as quiet as possible.

When the vacuuming there was done, I heard him open the door, and out of the corner of my eye I saw him put two large baskets just outside of it in the hallway. He then came down to me in the living room.

"Excuse me, Ma'am. I hate to bother you, but I want to get the laundry started as I'm doing other jobs, and I thought I should really have to ask you; do you wish me to hand wash your ... intimates?"

My laundry!!! It had not actually been on my list. I had never thought he would have enough time with everything else. Yet it was the household burden that I hated the most, and usually put off for as long as possible. There had to be well over two weeks worth in the large hamper, in addition to a full laundry bag in my closet. And hand wash my undies? I never did that myself, and to have him do so seemed to be very far away from where we currently were.

"Uh ... yes Alan ... Uh, the laundry" I stammered. "Uh no, I usually never hand wash anything, so I don't want you to do so either."

Was that a flicker of disappointment in his face? Maybe not. But it was further than I was ready to go. Maybe someday, came an unbidden thought.

"Just wash and dry everything, fold them, and put them all away" I hurriedly concluded.

"Of course, Ma'am. And I'll iron anything that needs it."

"That would be wonderful" I responded, astonished. My iron and ironing board hadn't seen the light of day in ages. I was surprised that he had even seen them, buried in the corner of the hallway closet.

"I'm happy to do anything that you need, Miss Angela."

This was hardly a convincing appearance of a Domina in complete command. But I felt a real warmth inside that he had taken the initiative on his own to do a job that I loathed, even as he didn't know that. And he had even made it seem that it had all been my idea. The warmth began to intensify in a particular area of my body, and I knew that I had to distract myself quickly. This was not where I wanted things to head. I turned my eyes back to my open lap top, and he thankfully took this as his cue of dismissal.

After he put the first load of wash in, having carefully separated the colors from the whites, the bathroom was his next order of business. As it wasn't as far away, I could faintly hear him scrubbing and brushing, far more than I would have thought necessary. He came out a number of times to transfer a load of clothes into the dryer, and put another load into the wash. When the first set finished drying, he took it out and transferred the next load in. He carried the basket of dried clothes, with the ironing board and iron, back into my bedroom. I was dying to watch him in action, but I refrained. I didn't want to signal any interest or approval until everything was done. It was close to an hour before he came out to collect the final dried load, and over a half hour later before he came out to put the iron and board away. It was well past noon as he came down the hall and approached me again.

"I was wondering Ma'am, if you would like me to make you some lunch, and while you're eating, I'll clean the living room."

"There's not much in there to make" I answered, startled.

"Well, I did see a number of eggs in the fridge, along with some cheese and mushrooms, and an onion. I could whip up an omelet. I do make a mean one, if you allow me to boast a little bit" he added with that sheepish smile I was coming to covet.

"Then how can I refuse" I responded with a little laugh. "But only on one condition" I said with an addition of my own. "You can clean the living room later. I want you to make one for yourself as well, and eat with me."

His smile became one of delight.

His omelets were even better than advertised, seasoned to scrumptious perfection. But it was our conversation during that was even more enjoyable. He was so easy to talk to, and he listened avidly as I went on and on, more than I had ever before, and certainly more that I thought anyone would ever want to hear. I told him all about my job as a waitress, that I probably had two more years of night school to get my degree, and finally become a teacher, then likely five more years of night school for the required master's degree to continue on in my dream profession. It was why I moonlit in the films that we did, to help in any way to pay for it all.

I drank in the quiet but sincere laudatory praise he offered about my aspirations, and my work ethic to attain them, when I realized that I hadn't asked him anything about himself. There wasn't much to say, he asserted. But you're a writer, I insisted, and as he had indicated before, a fairly successful one. He acknowledged that this was true. I asked what kind of stories he wrote, and he said they were mostly in the Fantasy genre. I admitted that this was a field where I hadn't read much, but that I would very much like to read one of his. His smile was a joy to behold.

"I truly hope that you have enjoyed our conversation as much as I have, Miss Angela" he suddenly interrupted as if he was afraid of losing himself in the moment, "but I really do need to get back if I'm going to complete all of my work to your expectations by the end of the day. With your permission, may I please do so."

As much as I might have desired to continue our discussion, for even the whole of the rest of the afternoon, that wasn't the purpose of this day. For either of us.

"Of course, Alan" I smiled demurely, "I wouldn't want to be the cause of any failure on your part. I'll go spend some time in my bedroom while you attend to the living room, and to this mess here," indicating the dining table. "Come for me when you're done with these two rooms, so I can come back out."

"Yes Ma'am" he promised as he pulled my chair out for me to depart.

While I was disappointed in the ending of our talk, I was very anxious to see what all he had accomplished in my bedroom. The bed been made with almost military precision, certainly top flight hotel level. I was almost surprised that there wasn't a chocolate on top of the pillows. Opening the folding French doors of my closet, I was immediately struck by the top shelf which ran the length of it. It is usually a jumble of thrown in sweaters, sweat shirts and pants, a large number of scarves, and a variety of baseball type hats that I like to wear. Now they were all smartly folded and lined up, or stacked very nicely across.

Likewise, all of my hanging clothes were neatly arranged, including those just washed and pressed. My two waitress uniforms had never looked so crisp. While I don't have much of a shoe collection, mostly cross trainer walking shoes for comfort as I'm on my feet most of the day waitressing, they're all usually in a pile on the bottom. Now they were all paired and set up in a row, and the few pairs of boots and real shoes that I own had indeed also been shined.

I next looked at my tall bureau. The myriad odds and ends on top, as well as on my night stand, had all been organized. Opening each of the drawers of my dresser, I found all my clothes carefully folded, including all of my freshly laundered lingerie. I was astounded by it all, but as I heard the vacuum being shut off in the distance, and he finally came to tell me that I could return to the living room, I made sure to maintain a non-committal and serious appearance. His evaluation would come at the end of the day, not before.

His last order of business was the kitchen, where there were a goodly supply of dirty dishes and pots and pans from the last several days. And the oven hadn't been cleaned in months. It was over an hour before he came out to let me know that he hoped that everything was now ready for my inspection.

I had already seen everything in the bedroom, and while waiting, had taken note of the living room and dining area. With him in tow we marched down to the bathroom where all the porcelain of the sink and toilet was scrubbed and sparkling, all the wall tiles were gleaming, including the perpetually dirty grout in the corners of the shower which were now clean and white, and the medicine cabinet and vanity perfectly organized. The hall closets were well ordered, and the kitchen was immaculate, all of the dishes, pots and pans cleaned and put away, the oven scoured and spotless, and the countertops all glistening. The entire place was as if in new and move-in condition.

I said nothing throughout, and as we returned to the living room my face remained impassive as I sat on the sofa and he continued standing before me.

"Kneel" I said. And he did.

"I promised you a compliment" I began, "IF your work here today met my expectations, which by your own measure you vowed to exceed."

I slowly moved my gaze around the room before settling back down upon him. And brightened.

"I find it all exemplary, and I couldn't be more pleased."

His face first reflected relief, but then he couldn't hide his elation. And I couldn't suppress my own delight.

"And I think that I also suggested that there might be something more."

I slipped off the old flip flops that I had been wearing all day, and pointed one of my bare feet toward him.

"You may express your gratitude. But only as you did upon greeting me in the shoot."

He reverently took my foot in his hands and then slowly brought his lips down, first to the base of my toes, then the center of the top, and finally just below my ankle. I strenuously fought the urge to demand so much more, which I so much wanted. But this all had to be taken slowly, before I committed to more. Instead I raised my other foot for the same veneration. As he did so, he spoke.

"Thank you, Miss Angela, for allowing me this wonderful opportunity and privilege to be of some service to you. I truly hope that there may come another time when you might have need to use me so again."

I let out a silent breath.

"Next Saturday seems about right" I replied. "Same time, same place. Be here."

"I will, Ma'am" he responded fervently. "Be sure of it. Thank you again.

**********

The next week couldn't have progressed more slowly. All I could think about was the coming Saturday. I purposely didn't maintain any of the upkeep in my apartment, not even the minimal amount I usually did to have it be livable. I wanted a full amount of work there for him to do on my behalf.

He wasn't present for my next shoot on that Thursday, as I had hoped he would be. For that one there was another actress there about my same small size, apparently to accommodate better action. It was to be a video of pony play, and both male 'steeds' were prepared with butt plug horse tails, skull cap flowing manes, bits and bridles, and each had a small saddle for us to ride upon. In the large back yard of the house a rink had been set up, where we put them through their paces of dressage, working them up to fine lather, finishing up with a race around the circumference of the yard, which my opponent won, whipping her 'horse' to victory more vigorously than I had it in my heart to do.

It was a fetish in which I also had little to no interest, but found less distasteful than some. But who was I to judge. To everyone their own, I guess, as long as it's consensual ... and safe. And I knew that to most of the people there, and the viewing audience especially, my own proclivities would seem obscenely tame. I did have one advantage over most of them though. Mine were beginning to become real.

Saturday finally came, and he arrived promptly at 8. I handed him that day's list with another smile, this time including the laundry. He briskly took off to attend to his duties, and I took my place in the living room, this time more blatantly observing and enjoying. As he had done so much the week before, despite my week's worth of total neglect there was still somewhat less for him to do, including only a week of laundry, and he was getting it all done more quickly. A little after noon, he approached me humbly, and asked once again if he could prepare a lunch for me. This time he had brought food with him to make sandwiches, if I didn't think that was too presumptuous. I enthusiastically said that would never be so, and accepted his invitation as long as he again shared lunch with me. He, as enthusiastically, agreed.

On fresh rolls he placed fried eggplant, thick slabs of fresh deli made mozzarella, fresh picked basil, and fire roasted peppers, adding a balsalmic vinaigrette to the roll, it was absolutely delicious, but once again the highlight of our lunch was our conversation, I told him all about my week, and especially about the shoot. He shared my limited enthusiasm for that particular kink. I then asked him why he hadn't been there.

"I'm taking a hiatus from that now" he replied.

"Why?" I inquired, a little bit perturbed.

"I'm finally embarking on my long held goal of delving into writing non-fiction" he answered. "I've done most of the research. I even traveled to England for a month a while back to search for original data."

"What will you be writing about?"

"It's a biography on one of the greats in my genre."

"Who?"

"Tolkien" he responded.

Even I had heard of him. "I really loved the movies" I said.

He smiled. "If you ever have the time, I think you'll really enjoy the books even more."

"Not as much as one of yours" I averred.

"Oh, mine pale next to any of his."

"I'll be the judge of that" I insisted. And we both laughed.

Once again, lunch time passed far too rapidly, and with my inwardly regretful permission he went back to work. At the end of the day, after a much quicker inspection, as he knelt before me, he received his more than well earned compliment. This time though, when I extended my bare foot, I added ...

"I think you should say thank you to my toes as well."

And he did, kissing each one on both feet softly on top and bottom, as he offered his heart felt gratitude once again. It took all of my will power not to press them through his lips into his mouth for further succor. And when he made his plea to further serve me again, I couldn't say 'next Saturday' fast enough.

**********

And so it went for the next several weeks. I also began to come up with some small, and some not so small, projects for him to attend to on many of those days, from replacing a broken shelf in one of the hall closets, to painting my bathroom walls over the hideous color it had been since I had moved in. I had also begun to completely abstain from any housework on my own, which coupled with my growing projects, made it increasingly difficult for him to get everything done in one full day. And with no work contribution on my part, my place really did begin to resemble a sty by mid week. My solution for this was very simple, and I indicated it to him one Saturday after his pre-departure plea.

"I realize that it's become very hard for you to get everything done, Alan," I started. "I have night classes on Monday, Wednesday and Fridays and get home late. But you can come on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons while I'm still at work, to ease some of your Saturday load, and I'll still be able to get home in time to inspect and see you off. "And," I concluded benevolently, "I don't think there will be any more need for written instructions. Except for special projects, you know what to do."

I looked at him expectantly.

"It will be my very great pleasure, Miss Angela."

"I knew it would be, so I made an extra key to the apartment" I concurred as I handed it to him. "I'll see you Tuesday evening."

The next Tuesday proved to be an especially busy day for me at work, and it seemed that I never stopped running from table to table without a break. I was bone weary as I made my way home, and I didn't know if I had it in me to 'play' with Alan when I got there. At least the place would be clean. Opening my front door, I was immediately struck by a mouth watering aroma. Following it to the kitchen, I found him huddled over the stove, stirring something in a big pot.

"Alan, what's all this?" was all I could think to say.