Shock Waves

by Colleen Collins

  “Thank you.”

  He blew out a long breath. “Now that that’s covered, what about tomorrow night?”

  She smiled. “Yes, let’s get together.”

  “Good, because if you’d said no,” he warned, his husky voice tinged with mirth, “I’d have come back anyway.” He checked his watch. “I need to leave in a minute. But before I go, about tomorrow on the set. It’s going to be crazy busy for me because I’ll be stepping into the director’s seat, but I’ll try to catch up with you.”

  “Thanks for letting me know.”

  He slowly fisted the fishnet material in his hand and pulled her toward him, his eyes darkening to the shade of a moonless midnight.

  She came willingly, until she stood mere inches from him, so close she could feel the heat radiating off his body.

  He released his grip, dropping both hands to her hips. He kneaded them slowly as he released a strangled groan, then moved his hands around, cupping her buttocks and pulling her closer.

  “Kiss me,” he murmured, his words puffing warm against her mouth.

  She slid her arms up his chest, around his neck, and rose up on tiptoe. Angling her head slightly, she slanted her mouth on his, their lips almost touching.

  But she didn’t kiss him.

  She pressed her bikini top against his chest and rubbed her breasts against him, once, twice, until she felt her nipples go hard.

  “Do you feel that?” she whispered against his mouth.

  He released a strangled “Yes.”

  She liked feeling her sexual power, knowing she was exciting him, giving him something to remember until tomorrow night. Pressing her groin against his erection, she moved against him with small, tight circular motions.

  “Do you like that?”

  His voice cracked as he spoke. “Yes.”

  “I like it, too,” she murmured, pressing her lips against his.

  His lips were firm but full, and incredibly, deliciously soft. She moved her mouth against his in a slow, sweeping movement, her lips nibbling, sliding, pecking. She was so excited, her entire body was shaking, her breaths ragged, but she wanted more, now, because this was all she was going to get tonight.

  A moan escaped her mouth as she eased her tongue between his lips. He tasted like cotton candy and lemonade, sweet and citrusy. She swept the warm, wet cavern of his mouth with slow, broad strokes, then, with a light flick, coyly teased his tongue to come play.

  With a low, guttural sound, he jerked her closer, invading her mouth with his. His hard legs sandwiched on either side of hers, he ground his erection against her sex as his mouth made love to hers, his tongue tangling and sliding and licking at a frantically building pace, until, with a loud moan, he jerked back his head, ripping free from the kiss.

  For a long moment, they stood stock-still except for their heaving chests, holding each other at an arm’s length.

  “If that’s just a kiss,” he muttered, “I’m dog meat.”

  8

  ELLIE LEANED AGAINST the other side of the closed front door, her eyes closed. That was, unequivocally, the best kiss she’d ever experienced. Ever.

  She ran her tongue over her lips, tasting Bill again. Warm and sweet. And the barest trace of citrus.

  She opened her eyes and looked around Team Java Mamma’s beach pad. “Sara? Candy?”

  No answer.

  She raised her voice. “I can’t believe you guys! I’m ready to spill about the steamiest kiss I’ve ever had, and you’re not here!”

  Silence.

  “Your loss.”

  She pushed off from the door and walked like a zombie toward her bedroom. What she’d planned for this vacation had turned upside down. Instead of hanging out in the beach house all day and wandering out at night, she was doing the exact opposite.

  She turned a corner and shrieked.

  As did the woman who faced her.

  Ellie paused, her mouth still open.

  As was the woman’s.

  “Jeez,” she whispered, staring at her reflection, “you scared me.” She blew out a breath. “I’ve got to remember this mirror is here, or I’ll be shrieking all week long.”

  Calmer, she checked out her made-over self. Tousled, blond-streaked hair had replaced the black spikes. Tanned skin had replaced the pale look. And those pastels—light green on her lids, peach on her cheeks—had replaced the bright blues and decadent reds.

  She stopped by her bedroom, looked around. Its white rattan furniture, sea-foam green walls and tropical print curtains were the antithesis of her antique furniture, Victorian wallpaper and red velvet drapes back home. Seemed everything in her immediate world had been made over. She flashed back to tonight when they’d all hooked up at the Hot Shot booth. Even her brother, Matt, had been made over!

  She felt too keyed up to sleep so she decided to get ready for bed, then listen to that CD Tish gave her, a surf-goth group called Vampire Girls on the Beach. If Ellie recalled correctly, they’d done a cover of “Good Vibrations.”

  As she was fishing in her suitcase for her Siouxsie Sioux T-shirt, which doubled as her jammies, she ran across a girl’s best friend.

  Her favorite vibrator, OhMiBod, and its trusty sidekick, the wireless remote.

  No more frustration for this girl!

  She kicked off her shoes, whipped off her clothes and slithered into OhMiBod, adjusting its elastic bands over her hips so the butterfly-shaped vibrator sat right there over her clit. After slipping on her long T-shirt, she grabbed the Vampire Girls on the Beach CD, and looked around for her CD player.

  Not here. She headed down the hall, checked the bathroom, finally found it in the living room. Cool. Considering she forgot to bring her headphones, she’d have to hook it up to the speakers in here.

  In her West L.A. apartment, she could use her OhMiBod wherever she pleased, but the living room in this beach house was communal property.

  She crossed to the front door and locked the dead bolt. Problem solved. As it could only be opened from the inside, by her, she could enjoy her OhMiBod without a worry.

  She slipped on the CD and selected the “Good Vibrations” cut. Not bad. An interesting mix of fifties’ surfer music with a dark, pulsing undertone. She preferred bands like Siouxsie & the Banshees and The Cure, although goth-surf music had its pluses. She bobbed her head in time to the music.

  She fingered the remote, an ivory plastic device with three speeds and four pulsations, which made any woman a masturbation maestro. If she wanted to enjoy a classical experience, low speed with a slower pulse. Jazzy, medium speed with a higher pulse. Rock and roll? Full speed ahead and max the pulse, baby!

  Surf-goth was a more classical experience, she decided. She pressed the buttons.

  A light, incessant buzzing quivered against her clit. She sucked in a breath, giving herself over to the delicious sensations. She’d endured hours of foreplay today with Bill. All that teasing and taunting and touching had made her one worked-up, strapped-on, ready-for-relief woman.

  She eased down onto a chair, leaned back her head and closed her eyes. She imagined herself at this morning’s audition again, alone on the stage, wearing nothing but the OhMiBod and those stilettos. In the audience was one man, Bill, who’d paid her to pleasure herself as he watched. With one caveat. She had to share her fantasy, down to the most minute detail, as it unfolded in her mind.

  She spread her legs, imagining him sitting in the very first row. His dark eyes glistened, a look of hunger on his face, as he waited to hear her innermost secrets….

  Ding dong.

  She snapped open her eyes. Oh, great. Somebody was at the frickin’ door.

  With an exasperated huff, she punched off the remote. She stood, smoothed down her T-shirt so it hit midthigh, then shuffled to the door and peered through the peephole.

  Her heart leaped into her throat.

  Bill!

  She hated to be caught in the act. It was an insult, wasn’t it, for a guy to find a woman he’d ju
st left to be in the throes of masturbation?

  No sweat. He didn’t have to know what she’d been doing.

  Opening the door slightly, holding the remote in her out-of-sight hand, she said a bit breathlessly, “Hi.”

  He held out her cell phone. “Figured you’d be needing this before tomorrow night. Forgot I had it on me.”

  “Thanks.” With her free hand, she accepted it.

  He cocked his head. “That’s ‘Good Vibrations,’ isn’t it?”

  She nodded.

  “Never heard that version before. Practicing for tomorrow night?”

  She tightened her grip on the remote. “Sort of.”

  “Since we’re getting together, how about if we both enter? Double the points for Java Mambo?”

  “Java Mammas.”

  “Right.” He flashed her a smile. “I’m feeling a little odd with a door between us.”

  “Oh, sorry.” She opened it a bit wider, still keeping the remote out of view. “Thought you needed to leave right away again, you know, to see that producer.”

  “I can walk there in ten minutes, and he’s not expected for at least twenty, so I have a few minutes to spare.”

  He leaned his head close to hers and gave her a smile that warmed her right down to her beach babe peach-tipped toes.

  She smiled back, her insides turning to mush.

  He leaned closer and brushed his lips across hers, igniting a flame that spread like wildfire over her skin.

  “I have a confession to make,” she whispered.

  “Hmm?”

  She handed him the remote.

  9

  BILL PEERED at the remote in his hand. “What’s this for?”

  “How soon do you have to leave?” she whispered, opening the door a little wider.

  “Five minutes?”

  She smiled, excited at the thoughts searing through her wanton mind. She glanced over his shoulder, not seeing anyone for several hundred feet, either on the walkway or the beach. With Bill blocking her, no one could see her…and if she saw anyone, she could quickly duck back inside.

  She lifted the end of her T-shirt, brushed her fingers across the elastic over her hip, leading his eyes down to the object positioned over her sex.

  He looked down, paused. “God, you’re so pretty,” he murmured. “Is that what I think it is?”

  “Yes.”

  Raising his gaze, he held up the object. “And this is…”

  “A remote.”

  “Well, well, well…” He held it inside the door to read the buttons. “Aren’t you the electronic-age wonder.”

  “I’d invite you inside,” she whispered, “but selfishly, I’d like to stand right here….”

  His eyes glistened with lust. “I wanted to make love the first time, not just…”

  She stealthily rubbed her thighs together in anticipation. “Let’s call this an appetizer before the main meal.”

  He leaned forward, his breath warm against her neck. “Appetizer, yes…I like that.” Fastening his lips on her neck, he lightly nibbled and kissed, causing her to writhe pleasurably.

  Then he pulled back and looked at her. “I’m selfish, too,” he said, positioning his finger on a button, “because I want to watch.”

  He pressed a button that brought Ellie onto her toes, the exquisite tremors zeroing right in on her sex. So intensely enjoyable, all it would take was a few more moments and she’d…

  Bill stared at the hem of her T-shirt that fluttered with breezes over the firm, creamy skin of her thighs. She was rising up on her toes, pressing together her lips to suppress the needy mewling noises that lodged in her throat.

  It was dark enough on the porch that it’d be difficult for someone to see unless they were standing in his shoes, plus his body blocked her….

  “Lift your T-shirt,” he murmured, “I want to see you.”

  She reached down and lifted it.

  “Ellie…” He pressed another button and she gasped. “I can’t wait to taste you…touch you….”

  Panting, she opened her eyes and looked at him, her hips rocking slightly. “More,” she said on a moan. “I want more.”

  Ellie felt the vibrations kick up a notch. She gasped as sheer, exacting need pooled hotly between her legs. The pleasure was so intense, so exquisite, she throbbed and ached for release from the soles of her feet to the top of her head as the tension kept building, building….

  Her breath caught as her body tightened and trembled. She was hot, wet, wound so tight. Her body needed it, demanded it…so close….

  For a singular moment, everything stilled…then her entire being rushed toward the point of no return….

  She bit back a groan as wave after wave of release ripped through her until, too shaky to keep standing, she slumped her lax, sated body into Bill’s arms.

  He dropped the remote as he held her close, her breaths warm and ragged against his cheek as her body relaxed into his embrace.

  Suddenly, she sputtered a soft laugh. “I think I just proved that old saying wrong.”

  “What saying?”

  “Never come between a man and his remote? Well, I think I just did.”

  THE FOLLOWING MORNING, at 8:00 a.m. sharp, Ellie reported to the assistant casting director, Peter, on the set of Sin on the Beach. She’d met Peter the day before at her audition, so she wasn’t surprised at his whirl of frenetic energy—chain-smoking, drinking coffee, ordering people around, all while talking into his cell.

  She stood nearby, waiting for him to end his call. This morning, before getting ready, she’d had coffee with Sara and Candy, but despite their guy-talk tell-all, she’d stayed mum about what had happened last night with Bill. Oh, she’d said she and Bill had kissed, but hadn’t breathed a word about the orgasm-in-the-doorway escapade. They would have loved hearing about Ellie’s crazy-hot encounter, but she liked keeping it private, something shared between her and Bill only.

  “You!” Peter pointed at her with his cigarette, the other hand holding his cell to his ear. “I thought I said no black bikinis!”

  She started to stutter something, when he cut her off.

  “Next time follow directions.” He made a hold-it gesture while barking into the phone, “I don’t care what he says! It’s Thursday or nothing, darling.” He looked up at Ellie, pointing her to a group of people in bikinis and shorts.

  She headed over to the group of ten or so people, whom she assumed were her fellow extras. The girls all looked like Paris Hilton, the guys like Brad Pitt, which made the older gentleman in red shorts and a T-shirt that read Surfers Stay on Longer stand out.

  Probably because she kept staring at him, he approached her with the kind of pickup line that was right up her alley.

  “Want a cup of coffee?” he asked.

  His long sideburns and handlebar mustache were a throwback to another era. Reminded her of herself, modeling her glam style on stars of yesteryear. The two of them obviously marched to their own stylistic drummers, which put her instantly at ease with him.

  “No thanks.” She smiled. “Afraid I’m picky. I run a coffee shop.”

  He lit up. “Well, isn’t this a small world. My grandson’s new friend is rooming with someone who runs a coffee shop.”

  A few pieces fell into place. “Your grandson wouldn’t happen to run a surf shop, would he?”

  “Why, yes!”

  “Yes, it’s a very small world.” She held out her hand. “I’m Sara’s friend Ellie, the one who runs a coffee shop.”

  He shook her hand. “Pleased to meet you. I’m Gus.”

  They spent the next few minutes chatting about the surf shop, her coffee shop, Gus’s past surfing accomplishments. She didn’t take his flirting seriously. In fact, if he were forty years younger, and she weren’t besotted with Bill, she might’ve said yes…to a coffee date.

  “Hey,” said a familiar voice.

  Bill.

  Her heart shoved into overdrive. “Hey, yourself.”

 
; Gus gave a little salute and wandered off, leaving the two of them alone.

  “Should I be jealous?” Bill teased.

  Ellie looked over at Gus, who was already flirting with another extra. “No, I’m already a thing in his past.”

  Bill grinned. “Gotta get ready for the next take, so can’t stay long, but would you like to have lunch together? Wait, let me clarify that. When the set breaks for lunch, would you like to take a walk on the beach while eating whatever I can get delivered? With my busy schedule, that’s the best I can do.”

  “Love to,” she said. “Where?”

  “Just come over to my station.” He pointed to an oversize blue-and-white striped umbrella, under which were several canvas-backed chairs, a portable video monitor, a small table on which sat a laptop, some papers.

  She smiled. “Sounds great.”

  “Bill!” A red-haired kid wearing a Sin on the Beach T-shirt and blue baggy shorts barged in. “Video feed is having problems. Kenny needs to see you ASAP.”

  Bill touched her arm. “Gotta go. By the way, you look great.”

  “Sorry I wore black,” she said, but he was already walking away. Even as he talked to the red-haired kid, others kept approaching him, vying for his attention. The boy from the hood had certainly come a long way. Even back then, he’d had that cocky, I’m the-man way about him, which a guy had to have to stand up to, and often survive, the life on the streets. She wondered if he’d even have come this far if he hadn’t had that tough background.

  And yet, he seemed to despise the past that had nurtured this success. She didn’t get it.

  OVER THE NEXT THREE HOURS, what Ellie did get was that the film business was no way as glitzy behind the scenes as it was on the screen. The next several hours consisted of boredom, repetition and more boredom as the same scene—two people having a brief conversation—was shot again and again.

  At eleven the assistant director instructed everyone to take thirty minutes for lunch, and she headed over to Bill’s station, which was a mob scene with people demanding his time. She stood outside the umbrella while he argued with a lighting guy, gave instructions to several others, handled a call from Sullivan, all the while watching a playback on the video monitor of the scene they’d just shot.