His Huge Rock

by Sarah J. Brooks

  I was so new to acting that I felt I would never be good enough for the stage. Hell, I would settle for being good enough to have my movie actually make money or to be asked to be in a film that was made by a major studio; that was a dream. The film I was doing now would do well enough; I’m sure we would turn a profit, but I wanted people to talk about my acting. I wanted the dream of getting nominated for awards and having others tell me I was unbelievably good. It was a silly dream; I knew it, but still one that I couldn’t get out of my head.

  Chapter 5

  Dean

  She was already trying to cancel our date; this girl was a fake for sure. But there was something about her that made me smile. I had to meet her. I wanted to see that white dress she promised to wear.

  “I can’t meet any earlier, but please let me know if it doesn’t work out. I don’t want to get stuck dancing alone at the club,” I messaged her back as soon as my afternoon performance was complete.

  She didn’t answer back. I checked my phone at least a dozen times between the afternoon performance and the start of the evening show, but nothing. She had only said she might not be able to make it, never that she wasn’t going to come. I thought about her throughout my show. Mainly I thought about having her in my bed; the things she had sent me in her messages had me thinking totally about sex with her. I couldn’t help myself. I pictured her as this vivacious and outrageous woman that would take control of me and screw me all night long. The idea intrigued me.

  “I’ll be there. Are you in the show at the Showman Theater?” she asked through the messaging system.

  She had figured it out. If she didn’t know who I was before, she certainly knew who I was by that time. I was disappointed; I couldn’t deny it. I really liked the idea of going out with someone who didn’t know who I really was.

  “Yep, that’s me. See you later tonight.”

  “I heard there was a bit of a stumble during your afternoon show; hope you are alright.”

  “Yeah, at least I didn’t fall flat on my face.”

  “So you did stumble?” she asked.

  Something was so different about this girl. When we had been messaging before, she was fun and upbeat. She was flirty in every single message, even erotic in them, and now she was drilling me with questions about my show. I was so disappointed. She had figured out who I really was, and now all that mattered would be her asking questions about me and my career. The fun was totally out of it for me. I had been on enough dates with girls who liked me just because I was famous; I didn’t need another one of those.

  “Hey, I think I’m going to have to go out with my co-stars after the show after all. Maybe we could do our drink another night?”

  “Ha! I see; you’re busy now that I’m asking you actual questions.”

  I paused as I looked at her message.

  One of my friends had met a woman online, and he thought she was stalking him and trying to get with him because of his money. Another of my friends had met a woman who really ended up being a man when he finally tracked them down. Online dating wasn’t exactly the best way to meet someone if you wanted an honest person.

  “It’s been a long day; I think we should talk another time.”

  “Sure, whatever. I get you aren’t interested in meeting up with someone. Just like texting and messaging. You definitely aren’t the real Dean Morrison then; he wouldn’t be scared to meet a girl for a date.”

  Oh, wow. I had to laugh. This girl thought I was messing with her. She was the one that looked like a model in her photos; if anything, she was trying to pull one over on me. She probably didn’t even look like her photos at all; that seemed to be a theme with the girls online.

  “I’m not scared,” I replied impulsively.

  “Then show up at eleven like we planned.”

  “Fine, I will.”

  This girl had me all worked up. My blood pressure was boiling, and I wasn’t about to let this girl think I was afraid to meet up. She had actually gotten under my skin, and even if I just showed up and proved I was who I said I was, that was enough for me. To see the look on her face when she realized she was wrong about me, man I couldn’t wait.

  I also couldn’t wait to call her out for the fake-looking photos she had online. With the last girl, I had been kind to her and not really pushed the fact that she didn’t look like her pictures. But this girl deserved to have a little more fun after her questioning of me. I was going to grill her about her photos when I saw that she didn’t look like them. These girls needed to realize they couldn’t just Photoshop themselves and think guys wouldn’t notice. We notice.

  As soon as I got back to my place, I hopped in the shower and shaved. I was planning on looking damn good when I met this girl. She was going to be so sorry she hadn’t believed I was who I said I was. I mean who would really lie about being me? It didn’t really make sense. If I were going to lie about being someone famous, I certainly wouldn’t pick the older, out of film work actor; I’d pick some hot hunk who was more popular.

  I couldn’t wait to see what this girl really looked like. She was probably chubby, out of shape, and totally stole the pictures she was using. If anyone was trying to scam someone, it was her; there was no way a woman like her would be hanging around Instamatch.

  The more I thought about meeting up with this girl, the more I got worked up. I just couldn’t wait to rub it in her face that I was really who I said I was. How dare she even think I would lie? I mean, I get if someone is a little suspicious, but she was flat out calling me a liar before she had even met me. Nope, I wasn’t going to have it.

  I slipped into a custom tailored navy blue suit with a relaxed collar and a white button up shirt. I looked damn good as I went out the back door and got into the waiting car. The paparazzi still had the front of my place covered, so I was fine with sneaking out the back again. They would move on from the story in a day or two, and I could get back to my life.

  “Mr. Morrison, where are we off to today?” my driver asked.

  “Club 64.”

  “Yes, sir. Also, sir, I believe there is a photographer following us.”

  I turned around in my seat and saw a motorcycle close on our tail. It was one of the paparazzi I was familiar with from in front of my apartment. I wasn’t too worried about him. One photographer could be handled; it was when there were dozens of them that things got out of control.

  “It’s okay; let’s just get there so I can get inside quickly.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  My driver was excellent and had me dropped off at the door in less than ten minutes. For New York traffic, that was pretty damn good.

  “Would you like me to come back for you, sir?”

  “No, I’ll get myself home. Thank you.”

  I quickly went past the doorman and into the club. I had been there before with my friends Merrick and Wyatt. Actually, I had been to the club many times since I had arrived in New York, although not so much in recent weeks. The girls that frequented the nicer clubs like this one were often out of my league. Not that I couldn’t land one if I wanted, but in general, the girls were interested in the financial millionaires and other elites of New York; they weren’t looking for struggling actors on Broadway.

  It was funny that I considered those women out of my league. Only a few years earlier, I wouldn’t have thought any woman was out of my league. I had grown up a lot with the financial difficulties I had.

  Financially, I had to admit I wasn’t the poster boy for struggling. I still had several houses across the world, and I was able to pay my bills just fine. But I had gone from a bank account with so many zeros I never bothered to look at the balance, to a bank account that I actually looked at before buying something big. To me, that was a big difference. I was also spending much more time learning to invest and tried to meet up with my investment friends at least a couple of times each month. They were my only true friends outside of the theater while I was in New York.

  The club
was packed with people, which always surprised me. It was Sunday night, most of the people in the club had work the next morning, yet there they were, ready to party the night away.

  My eyes were peeled for Angelina, or whoever it was that I was supposed to meet. I had forgotten to tell her what I’d be wearing, so all I had to go on was looking for a woman in a white dress who was drinking a blue martini. There were a lot of women in white dresses on the dance floor, so I skipped past them to look on the edges.

  I was absolutely prepared to find a homely woman sipping a blue martini. What I wasn’t prepared for at all was a woman that looked identical to her pictures, standing in a floor length, body hugging, white dress. There were several people around her talking to her and taking selfies with her.

  Why were people taking photos with this woman? I couldn’t decide what was going on, so I waited and watched for a little while. She was stunning, though, absolutely beautiful. Her long brown hair flowed seamlessly down her back. The white dress she had on was so tight I was pretty sure she didn’t have a stitch of clothing under it.

  Instead of rushing over to her, I stood for a minute and observed what was going on. There were a lot of women coming up and talking to her; they were laughing and hugging her and taking selfies with the girl. When the group of women left, I swept in and stood next to her while I ordered a drink.

  “Bourbon straight,” I said to the bartender when I caught his eye. Then I turned toward Angelina. “That’s a nice looking blue martini,” I said with a smile.

  She turned, and the look of shock on her face made me smile. It was clear she wasn’t expecting it to really be me, but all my animosity about that situation had disappeared when I realized she really was the same beautiful girl that I had seen in her photos. Plus, the way she smiled at me had my heart jumping up and down like a teenager.

  “Well, this is a pleasant surprise.” She laughed nervously.

  “You thought I was lying?”

  “Yes,” she said simply and then sipped on her drink.

  Her eyes avoided looking at me, and a red flush came to her cheeks. This girl was stunningly beautiful, though; even in the midst of total embarrassment, she was more elegant than most women could hope for

  “Angelina, Angelina, can we please take a picture with you?” two young women said excitedly as they came up and pushed me out of the way.

  “Quickly ladies, I’m on a date here,” Angelina said sweetly as she obliged the girls.

  It dawned on me that this woman wasn’t actually in the finance industry at all. I didn’t know her, though I probably should have by the way the girls were so excited to get their photos taken with her.

  “So, the finance industry has groupies, that’s interesting,” I said dryly as I sipped my drink.

  “You know, people love to make money.”

  Angelina looked over at me, and I could have sworn she was turning an even darker shade of red. She was hiding her embarrassment well, a little too well; I started to think she was an actress of some sort. What a beautiful woman she was. Her long brown hair was swept back in a simple low ponytail; she had flawlessly clear skin and huge brown eyes that I could swear were looking right through me.

  She was much quieter in person than her personality seemed over the Instamatch app. Maybe that was because I had shocked her by being real? Or maybe she just didn’t like the chaos of the club. She couldn’t seem to look me straight in the eyes and continually looked away after even a moment of glancing at me. I think I was making her nervous.

  “That dress is one hell of a dress.”

  She smiled at me and looked down without saying a word. It didn’t seem to matter that we weren’t talking much, though. I sipped on my drink, and she sipped on hers. There was so much chemistry between us, I felt it pulling me closer and closer to her. She didn’t pull away, and she didn’t move away. She wanted to be there with me: I could tell by the way she looked at me. Yet, she couldn’t muster much to actually say to me.

  “When you finish that drink, I’m going to take you for a spin on that dance floor,” I said as I watched her slam down the remainder of her drink.

  I held my hand out for her, and she grabbed it so I could guide her out to the dance floor. The music was bumping, and not at all meant for a slow dance, but I didn’t care. Nothing seemed to matter at all at that moment. This girl was something on a whole different dimension than I had experienced. The way she looked at me had my insides stirring and my thoughts imagining every possible way I could kiss her right there. But I held back. As much as I wanted to feel her lips against mine, I wanted to get to know this girl first, and that was the first sign she was going to be a hell of a lot of trouble to me.

  It had literally been years since I felt like I truly wanted to get to know a woman. It had been longer than I cared to remember, and I really loved how it felt. She was mysterious, sexy as hell, and standing there with me. She wasn’t looking at anyone else; her beautiful brown eyes were locked onto mine as I wrapped my hands around her waist and pulled her near me. We were quiet, but we probably couldn’t have heard each other talk much if we had decided to talk; the music was much too loud on the dance floor.

  Her body language told me that she wanted to be there with me. Her hips pressed against mine. Her voluptuous breasts touched my body like they were urging me on to play with them. Every moment I was there with her, I felt my body tingling more and more. The way she looked at me was the way I had always imagined a woman would look at me. Not just any woman, but I had imagined it would be a woman that I also couldn’t take my eyes away from.

  We didn’t talk with words, but man oh man did our bodies do a lot of talking. My hands stayed at her waist, but hers slid up my back and squeezed me toward her. Angelina flashed me a small smile as she let her head rest on my chest for a minute, and I pulled my arms up to wrap her in them. I felt like I was protecting her from something; I wasn’t exactly sure what it was, but I was fine with being there to protect her.

  My arms stayed wrapped around hers, and her hands slid down to my waist and held onto me, and she pulled back slightly. She smirked and shook her head as her eyes looked me up and down.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Dean,” she said loudly as she leaned in toward my ear.

  “You too,” I mouthed back to her.

  After dating dozens, maybe even hundreds of women, I was positive I had been thoroughly washed out of the market. There was something about me that made it impossible to find a woman that I liked; I was convinced of it. But then this girl happened. I was smitten by her after hardly talking to her. I wanted to be there with her all night long. Sure, I wanted to talk to her too. I wanted to see her again the next day. There were so many thoughts running through my head of how I could not screw this up.

  Whatever happened, I needed not to mess up like I did with every other woman in my past. I had to say the right things. I had to do the right things because I wanted this feeling to last. I was hooked already on Angelina, and I hardly knew a thing about her.

  “Is there a place to talk around here?” Angelina said in my ear.

  Give me a mission, and I damn sure will make it happen. I grabbed her hand and pulled her off the dance floor. We went straight to the owner of the club who was sitting in the corner; I stood there for less than a second before the man hopped up and shook my hand, but then he shook Angelina’s hand too. I watched how he looked at her and knew I was missing something big about this girl.

  “Private room?” I asked the owner.

  “Of course,” he said and motioned for one of his men to take us somewhere.

  As many times as I had come to the club, I hadn’t been interested in a private room before. I liked being out on the dance floor and in the main area of the club so I could find beautiful women. But at the moment, I was holding the hand of a very beautiful woman, and all I wanted to do was talk to her. I actually wanted to talk to her. Angelina had me wondering who she was; she had me thinking about dozens o
f questions to ask her. I couldn’t wait to get her alone so we could talk.

  The bouncer opened the door to a back room and shooed away a group of men who were in it. Within two minutes, they had the room cleaned up and cleared out. It was nice to be important enough to kick other people out of a room. But I wasn’t sure if it was me or Angelina that the owner had been so eager to please.

  “I’ll have them bring you some bottles,” the bouncer said as he closed the door and was looking at Angelina.

  “Why do I have a feeling that they did this for you and not for me?” I laughed as I refused to let go of her hand and pulled her toward the corner bench.

  The small room reminded me of a strip club, just because it had leather benches around the edges. I had gone to a high class club with one of my friends when he was trying to convince everyone he wasn’t gay. Eventually he came out and was happier than ever, but I still had that damn club burned into my memory. I glanced around at the high quality art on the walls and expensive tables for our drinks, it was clear this room was meant to show off a person’s wealth and not a woman’s tits. Yet I still had the odd feeling there was a lot of sex happening in this private room.

  “You don’t know who I am?” She giggled.

  “That’s supposed to be my line.”

  She seemed embarrassed that I didn’t know who she was, and I felt bad that I had no idea. She looked familiar, but even my own past co-stars looked familiar. I just couldn’t pin down who she was. Maybe she was in a different Broadway show? Perhaps she was in one of my previous movies, and I had just forgotten?

  “My family has had a reality show for the last few years. The Kent Family Mayhem.”

  It all started to fall into place. She was one of the daughters on the show, now I remembered. Although I hadn’t actually watched the show before, it was highly advertised, and you couldn’t exactly watch regular television without an ad or two popping up at some point.