Games We Play by Dana Isaly

 

Chapter One

The doorbell rang, and I groaned outwardly, probably loud enough for her to hear through the door. The only reason I knew the interviewer was a woman was because my lawyer had brought the papers by to show me she had signed all of the NDAs, her loopy scrawl painted across each page.

It wasn’t really my choice to sit down for an interview, and I really hoped as I made my way to my front door that this wouldn’t take longer than an hour. Hopefully she had done her homework on me, and I could get her in and out and go back to hiding away.

I tugged my hoodie over my head and pulled it down across my forehead as much as I could. The mask I wore for streaming had a wild, manic-looking smile on it, and I pulled that up over the bridge of my nose.

I opened my door to a pretty face surrounded by a halo of dark auburn waves. She smiled up at me with a mouth full of straight white teeth. I saw the small scar on her bottom lip that looked like it was from an old piercing. Dressed the way she was in her tight slacks and buttoned blazer, I would’ve never pegged her for the type to have piercings.

She was a good foot shorter than me, which caused her to have to crane her neck back to look at me, giving me a glimpse straight down into her ample cleavage. My dick twitched.

Fuck, she’s gorgeous.

“Oh, hi!” She reached out her hand as she took in my covered face. “I’m Quinlan. You can call me Quin.” I reached out and took the slender little thing in my own. “I signed the NDAs. You don’t have to wear the mask.” She pulled her hand back, and I stepped to the side to let her in. Even through the mask, I could smell her sweet perfume.

“I have trust issues,” I said with a wink. She gave me a shy smile and walked the rest of the way in, looking around my open-plan apartment. I shut the door and ushered her into the kitchen. She hopped up on one of the barstools and pulled her laptop out of her messenger bag, instantly making herself at home.

“Do you want a drink?”

Her big brown eyes swiveled to me, and she blinked before a blush crept over her cheeks. “I…I can’t. I’m working.”

“I meant water or something, Quinlan,” I said with a soft laugh. The blush turned into a bright red stain, blotchy and too fucking cute. I wondered what other parts of her would look like lit up like that.

“Oh, no, I’m fine. Thank you.” She cleared her throat, opened her laptop, and pulled out her recorder. “Did you just wake up?”

I leaned my hip against the counter and looked down at her. “About thirty minutes ago. Why?”

“You sound like you’re still half-asleep.” Her smile was soft and teasing.

“This is just my voice, love.” Had she not done any research on me? “I’m primarily known for my voice. Didn’t you do your homework?”

She shook her head, typing away on her laptop and getting everything set up. “I like to try and go in as blind as possible. I feel like it helps me ask better questions. More authentic.”

I groaned inwardly. That meant it wasn’t going to be a quick in-and-out type of interview. This was going to take a while.

She paused and looked up. “I don’t know a thing about you, Joker. Does that wound your ego?”

Yes, I thought instantly. I wanted her to know about me, be impressed by what I’d built for myself. Why did it bother me so much that she didn’t know who I was?

“Come on, then,” I said, walking around the counter to where she was sitting. “Let me show you what I do for a living before you start asking questions. Give you a glimpse into my world.”

“Okay,” she drawled. “But I’ve seen plenty of gaming setups. It’s kind of my job.” She jumped down, and I had to force myself to ignore the way her tits bounced underneath that blazer. I wanted her to take it off. I wanted to see the smooth skin of her shoulders and slender arms.

I mentally shook myself when I realized she was just staring at me, waiting for me to lead the way. I took off toward the back of my home where my gaming room was.

“It’s your job, but you don’t know anything about the people you go to interview?” I flicked a switch as I entered, lighting the entire room up in blue LEDs. She stood in the doorway watching me as I made my way over to my computer and started pushing buttons and getting everything turned on and lit up.

“I know of you. I just don’t know a whole lot about you. I like to learn as the people learn.” She smiled and looked around the room, taking everything in.

“So this is where the magic happens,” I said, gesturing to the desk that was now backlit in a bright green.

She took a few steps in and made her way around the room, looking at all of my posters and running her fingers over my shelves that held all of my manga. I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned against the wall to watch her.

“That’s an impressive collection,” she said before moving around the room and stopping at my desk. She plopped her short frame right into my chair and did a spin. “Comfy.”

“I spend a lot of time in it. It needs to be.”

“Does every surface in here light up? What is it with gamers and LEDs?” She laughed, and I found I liked the way her face lit up.

“Not every surface,” I said. “But when I stream, I don’t like any bright lights. It’s easier to keep my face hidden if it’s a bit darker in here.”

She nodded and took another look around. “It’s nice. Why don’t we do the interview in here? It’ll be more in your element. Help you not be so nervous.”

“I’m not nervous.”

“Stop fidgeting, then,” she said with a grin. And then she was out of the room to go grab her things. When she came back, I was sitting in my computer chair, and she took up residence on the couch across from me. She shrugged out of her blazer, exposing the brightly colored tattoos covering every inch of her arms and shoulders.

“Sleeves?” I asked. “I never would’ve expected that.”

That slight blush crawled across her cheeks again. The little scar on her lip made more sense now.

“I try to dress professionally. It doesn’t mean I’m a prude. Do you have any tattoos?”

I was dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved hoodie. Not an inch of skin was showing on me besides my hands, a bit of my neck, and my eyes. So she couldn’t see that I was actually covered in them.

“Off the record?”

“Sure,” she chirped.

“I do. I just don’t really tell anyone about them for the whole identity thing. I’ve got my left arm done and a few on my chest. My legs are almost completely covered.”

“I have my hip tattooed, like my upper thigh and up onto my hip bone, and holy shit that hurt. Leg pain is a whole different type of pain.”

My eyes grazed across her body and settled on her hip for a moment, wondering what kind of tattoo she had there. She cleared her throat, and I looked back up at her, our eyes meeting for a moment longer than seemed professional. The air between us felt heavy and charged. I watched her slender neck move as she swallowed nervously.

“What questions do you have for me, Quinlan?” I asked to break the silence that had stretched on too long. I would have loved to sit there and watch her squirm under my gaze, but I figured with this being a professional meeting and not a personal one, I shouldn’t make her too uncomfortable.

But I couldn’t stop thinking about her arms and legs tied to the bed, her body open and waiting for me. Or maybe her on her hands and knees,a collar around that pretty petite neck, following me around like a good little girl. Her mouth wrapped around my cock. That ass painted red from my toys.

“Let’s start at the beginning,” she said, startling me out of my daydream. I crossed my legs and pulled my hoodie down a bit, hoping to hide my growing erection. “What got you into all of this?”

She pulled her feet up under herself and settled in. Her wide brown eyes settled on mine, and I wondered if she could see that one was blue and one was brown. It was probably my biggest insecurity. And, of course, it was normally the first thing anyone noticed about me and couldn’t help but comment on. But she hadn’t said a word.

“Money,” I stated bluntly. She gave a small laugh. I leaned back in my chair and got comfortable, trying to get the blood pumping to my brain instead. “I always enjoyed gaming, and once I realized I could make money off of it, I decided I might as well try streaming. I got better and better at it. More people were joining every time I played. I honestly think a lot of people started joining mainly to listen to me talk and not because I was actually good at what I was doing.”

“And you were okay with that?”

“Sure,” I said and shrugged. “Money is money. If they want to sit there and listen to me talk, who am I to stop them?”

“Do you get requests? Like do people ask you to say certain things or say hi to them?” She chewed on her lip as she asked the question and typed a few notes on her laptop. I stared at it as I answered.

“Yes. All the time. And a lot of the time it’s sexual.” Her eyes went wide, and she stopped typing. That adorable fucking blush crept up her neck again, and I smiled under my mask. I loved that I was the cause behind that.

“Sexual?” she asked as she pulled her eyes from her screen to me.

“Oh yeah, Curly Q,” I said, leaning forward and propping my elbows on my knees. “You’d be surprised with the things people have paid me to say to them.” I watched her swallow again, my mind straying to something else she could swallow. And when her next question came out breathy and strained, I knew it was over. She was about to be a fly caught in my web.

“What kind of things?”

I grinned.