After Glow

by Autumn Jones Lake

  “Jesus, they’re intense,” Z mutters.

  I grunt in response.

  The porn stars move on to the anal portion of the program and so help me, but Z wanders closer. He gets so absorbed in the action, the cameraman has to remind him to get the fuck out of the shot.

  Seriously.

  He wanders back a lot less embarrassed than he should be. “You miss this?” he asks.

  “Miss what? Sex in a hotel room with a group of strangers evaluating my performance and filming every thrust?”

  “You know what I mean.” He gestures toward the bed. “There’s no way your wife’s letting you do that to her.”

  I snort, because I haven’t found anything Hope won’t explore with me yet. Despite our earlier touchy-feely conversation, there’s no way I’ll explain something that personal to Z.

  “Don’t worry about what I do with my wife, jackass.” I tilt my head. “You have a really warped idea of what marriage is and isn’t.”

  “Aw.” He places his hands over his heart and stares up at the ceiling. “You two are living the dream.”

  “You’re an asshole,” I growl.

  A few orgasms later, Z pipes up again, but this time he seems more serious. “You’re really not… I don’t know, any less interested now that she’s…” He curves his hand in the air in a way that I guess I’m supposed to interpret as pregnant. “Bigger?” he finishes.

  I must be getting soft in my old age, because somehow I refrain from ripping off his damn head. But there’s no hint of laughter in his tone or expression. I don’t sense he’s asking the question to be disrespectful.

  No, more like he genuinely wants to understand.

  Since things seem “chill,” Z and I step outside the bedroom.

  “You really want to hear the truth?” I cock my head to indicate I’m willing to answer his obnoxious question.

  He shrugs, but for the first time today, he’s focused on me instead of the noises coming out of the bedroom.

  How do I explain? “Hope and I made this… life together. I don’t see her getting bigger. My daughter is. All those changes that drive her nuts turn me on because that’s my kid she’s growing.”

  “So you’re still attracted to her as much as before?”

  Attracted? That doesn’t even come close. “My attraction, infatuation, obsession, whatever you want to call it, burns hotter than ever.”

  He nods slowly and doesn’t crack any jokes about my confession. Not that I’d give a fuck if he did. “Damn, brother.”

  A shriek comes from the bedroom, and we both turn to check it out.

  “We’re only supposed to break it up if she screams ‘puppies,’ right?” Z asks.

  “That’s what she said.”

  He moves closer to the door and watches the action for a few minutes before roaming to my side of the room.

  “Christ, my balls fuckin’ hurt watching that. Who knew the dude had to stay hard for so fucking long?”

  “Yes, my whole life I’ve been dying to know.”

  He snorts.

  Finally, they wrap it up, and Garrett emerges from Stella’s lair.

  “That was a lot of pussy-licking, bro,” Z says. I’m not sure if he’s congratulating the guy or trying to butter him up for oral tips.

  Garrett chuckles. “A girl gives up the ass, you gotta make the rest of it all about her, right?” he jokes, not at all insulted or bothered by Z’s annoyingness. After a quick glance over his shoulder, he drops the grin and leans toward us. “I’m glad you two are here. You seem to take this job seriously. Please keep a close eye on her later. I hate these randoms she films. I’m worried she’s gonna pick up a psycho one day.”

  “That’s what we’re here for,” I assure him.

  “Usually I’ll stick around and make sure she’s okay, but I have to catch a flight. We kind of scheduled this last minute.”

  “We’ll be here ’til the end,” Z says.

  “Cool. Thanks.” He gives each of us a quick handshake before heading out.

  Stella saunters out of the bedroom with a satisfied smile on her face.

  “Successful morning?” Z asks.

  I shoot him a shut-the-fuck-up look, which he ignores.

  “It went well.” She prowls a little closer. “You know, we have this hotel room for two more days. I find biker culture fascinating.”

  She stares at me as if I’m supposed to be impressed that my life is some sort of entertainment for her.

  When I don’t respond, she continues, “I’ve wanted to do a series of biker films for a while now,” she purrs, letting the invitation hang in the air. Her gaze slides to the patch on my cut, and she trails her fingers down my arm. “President would be a good place to start.”

  Next to me, Z coughs and shifts. I barely restrain myself from punching him.

  Instead, I carefully remove her hand from my arm. “Not. Interested.”

  She raises an eyebrow as if it’s the first time anyone’s ever turned her down. Hell, maybe it is. I couldn’t care less. I can’t stand women who aren’t my wife touching me. And nothing I saw earlier gave me the urge to get into the porn business.

  My patience is stretched way too thin for this bullshit. “I’m sure Sway would be happy to indulge your fascination.”

  She flinches but doesn’t give up. Nope, she rakes her gaze over both of us like a female octopus, on the hunt to mate and consume one of us as her extra nourishment for the day. “You’re both much better suited to the camera.” She reaches up to touch my cheek, and I block her hand with my arm, stopping to flash my wedding ring in her face.

  “Married.”

  “Oh.” She takes a step back, dialing down the predatory expression on her face. “That wouldn’t stop most guys.”

  Z finally decides to have some mercy on me. “He’s still in the obsession stage of marriage. She’s pregnant out to here, and he can’t keep his hands off her.”

  A simple, “pick me! pick me!” would’ve been sufficient.

  Z drops his grin when he notices my death glare. Fucker is well aware of how much I hate having any information about Hope or my personal life shared with strangers.

  Stella drops her come-hither attitude. “That’s actually really sweet.”

  Relieved we seem to have moved past the awkwardness, and she won’t attempt to touch me again, I smile back. “She’s a big fan of yours.”

  Too late, I realize that probably sounded like some weird three-way invite.

  “You could have brought her today,” Stella says. “I wouldn’t have minded.”

  “That’s okay.” Hope’s more open-minded that some might think, but there’s still no way I’d expose her to this scene.

  Z’s giving me the strangest look, so I feel like I should clarify. “I mean, she’s a fan of the column you write.”

  Her eyes widen, and she actually clasps her hands over her chest. “That’s wonderful.” She gestures at the scene behind her. “I love making films, but writing’s my real passion. I’m so happy someone actually reads my column.”

  After that, the day only gets weirder. Stella returns to the bedroom to rearrange things for the next scene. Apparently that includes a change of sheets and a few other decorative touches.

  I use the time to text Hope.

  Miss you.

  Miss you too! She writes back immediately, adding a couple hearts

  A few short words from my wife help wash away my lingering irritation.

  Unfortunately, the next buzz of my phone is from Sway.

  How’s it going?

  Fine.

  She talk to you about her biker series?

  That motherfucking piece of shit.

  I should’ve known there was a reason he was so insistent I had to be on set today.

  I call Z over and show him Sway’s message. “Did you know about that?”

  “Fuck no.”

  “What a fucking asshole.”

  “Prez, I think you just confuse him.” His
dark blue eyes gleam with mischief. “He can’t comprehend there’s one biker in the world who doesn’t want to cheat on his wife.”

  I glare at him. “I hate you.”

  He claps my shoulder and leans on me. “No you don’t.”

  I growl in response and he laughs even harder.

  “Come on. We don’t know many brothers who’d say no to her. Married or not you gotta admit she’s hot.”

  “I’ll admit that you seem to worry about where your brothers park their dicks a lot more than I do.”

  He doubles over with laughter and turns away for a second. “Guess I had that coming,” he finally sputters.

  “Ya think?”

  “She could use more padding.” He actually stops and pats his stomach and thighs, in case the meaning of padding was lost on me. “But you really don’t think she’s attractive?”

  I stare at the ceiling and count to ten. Don’t strangle Z today.

  When I’m confident I won’t choke him, I glance at Stella who appears to be preparing for some solo footage to be shot of her rolling around on the bed giggling and flashing her pussy. Creamy skin, pin-straight dark hair—that’s apparently her natural color—and pouty red lips. She has a pin-up, Goth girl sort of vibe to her. Her breasts are almost non-existent, so they’re probably real, something that’s unusual in the porn world, so kudos to her for not caving to industry pressure. But as Z so adorably mentioned, she’s almost painfully thin. Much thinner than has ever appealed to me. But overall, she’s pretty. Graceful in the way she moves, which suggests she might have dance training.

  “If she’d applied for a job at CB when I was there, I wouldn’t have thrown her application away.” And that’s the only answer Z’s getting out of me on this subject.

  He nods. Guess he was dying to have my opinion.

  More moans and giggles drift out of the bedroom and Z taps my shoulder. “You care if I take her up on the biker movie?”

  “Christ you’re disgusting.” I look him up and down, then poke his VP patch. “I don’t care where you stick your dick, but do not let them film you in this.”

  “I’m not stupid.”

  My are-you-sure stare doesn’t seem to discourage him from this new career path.

  I glance at Stella again. She’s kneeling in the middle of the bed and has an extensive collection of anal toys lined up next to her. The cameraman leans in to get a close-up as Stella dribbles lube over her ass. “Seriously?”

  He lifts his shoulders. “What? She’s sexy and smart.” He glances over at her. “And a very dirty girl. Just my type.”

  That’s it. I’ve had it. “Fantastic. Enjoy your new career. I’ll be outside.”

  I take out my phone, ignoring the three follow-up texts from Sway and call Hope.

  “Hey,” she answers. “On a break?”

  “I needed to hear your voice before I killed Z.”

  “Aw.” Soft laughter flows through the phone instantly calming me. I lean against the wall, closing my eyes for a second. “Don’t be mean to Z.”

  “Trust me, he’s earned it today.”

  “I doubt that.” That’s my girl. Always defending my brothers, even when I want to choke them.

  Already she’s put a smile on my face.

  “Definitely gonna kill Sway though.”

  “Now that, I’m on board with, Mr. President.” More laughter follows her words.

  “How are things at Charlotte’s?” Teller had driven Hope down to Charlotte’s office this morning.

  “You should see the pile of papers we’re wading through. Almost none of it relevant. It’s a mess. But,” she says with a cheerful note in her voice, “It’s a lot more fun when it’s not my ass on the line.”

  “Hey!” I hear Charlotte yell in the background.

  “Good.” I know she’s been bored and feels “lazy” being home all the time—even though from what I can tell pregnancy is a 24/7 job she won’t get a break from for another couple months. “I’ll let you get back to it.”

  She hesitates. “I’m glad you called.”

  “You don’t know how badly I needed to hear your voice, baby doll.”

  Half an hour later, I’m bored as shit and beyond annoyed with my fuckwit degenerate VP. Finally the door opens, and he steps out.

  “Make your porn-star debut?”

  He gives me a half-shrug. “Eh. I changed my mind. Maybe another time when I’m not getting squeezed in between anal and a three-way.”

  The disgusted face I pull makes him laugh. “What the fuck you been doing in there all this time, then?”

  He shrugs again and looks away. “Nothing. Just talking.”

  I stare at him for a second, but don’t get a chance to question him, because the two wanna-be film stars show up for the afternoon shoot. They’re a baby-faced pair of jacked-up frat bro types.

  As we show them into the suite, Z and I do the silent, menacing biker staring thing we were hired for. The dopey grins slide off their smooth, round faces real fast.

  Stella emerges from the bedroom in what I guess is supposed to be a “college co-ed” outfit of a tiny pleated skirt and a sweatshirt from Empire U.

  “Nice touch,” Z mutters.

  I don’t acknowledge his comment. Instead, I keep my eyes trained on dickwad number one, because he has that look about him that says ‘I can do whatever I want to her, because she’s a sex-worker’. Dealt with plenty of assholes just like him at CB. I’ll be more than happy to rearrange his thought process. With my fists.

  Stella outlines the script for them several times, making it clear what is and is not acceptable. The two dweebs are only concerned with getting her naked and making her “airtight” as one of them so charmingly puts it.

  They sign paperwork and hand over their driver’s licenses. The whole time we stand there, arms crossed over our chests, staring them down.

  “Yeah! Let’s do this!” dickwad number one yells, thumping his fist against his chest. The other one keeps mumbling something about being afraid his parents will accidentally find the video and watch it.

  Was I that much of an asshole at that age?

  Z glances at me and rolls his eyes.

  They get down to business, and Z’s thankfully less interested this time.

  I keep an eye on things to make sure Stella’s okay, but otherwise couldn’t care less.

  The only woman on my mind is my woman.

  Maybe going home and recreating something similar to the morning session with her in our basement fun room. The sweep of her dark auburn hair against soft pale skin as I bend her over—

  “Rock?” Z snaps his fingers in front of my face. “You okay?”

  “Yeah. They almost done?”

  “Uh, no.” He tips his head toward the trio. Dickhead number two is staring at Stella’s pussy as if he’s never seen one before and is afraid it might chomp his face off if he gets too close.

  I groan and grind my teeth, annoyed as fuck I got roped into this today.

  “Think she’ll be offended if I want to take her to dinner later?” Z asks.

  “Only if you say it’s because she needs more padding,” I remind him of his earlier remarks.

  He nods and wipes his palms on his jeans. “I’d never say that to her.”

  This is new. I can’t remember the last time Z asked a woman out or cared so much about her answer.

  “I’m not a total asshole.” He glances over again. “She’s worked pretty hard. Poor girl’s probably starving.

  “Your consideration is touching.”

  We stand there watching for a few minutes while they set up the next shot.

  This session lacks everything the first one had. The few minutes I watch are cold, impersonal, and boring as fuck. A whole lot of insert tab A into tab B.

  Would I have even noticed or cared about something like that before Hope?

  Z creeps closer to me. “This is going to sound weird—

  “Weirder than you wanting to star in her next fli
ck?”

  He chuckles. “Yeah.” He points to his crotch—something I could really do without. “This is doing nothing for me. The whole thing feels kinda cold.”

  “Planning a career as a film critic now?”

  “I’m serious. It’s nothing like this morning.”

  “No shit.” I rock back on my heels, remembering back to when I was a lowly prospect. “Reminds me of when I finally got to work at Crystal Ball.”

  One corner of his mouth slides up. “Grinder let you bounce when you were like sixteen.”

  “Outside checking licenses, yeah. He and Ruger didn’t let me inside until I earned my prospect rocker.”

  “Sounds about right.”

  “When I finally had a peek behind the curtain it was a lot less interesting.”

  He smirks. “Because the wizard had no clothes on?”

  A chuckle rumbles out of me. “Because the girls were hustlers. Pretending to be so interested in the guys, making them think they had a chance, then laughing at the suckers behind their backs while counting their cash. Not a damn thing sexy about it.”

  He traces a circle in the air with his finger. “Not much different than MC vs. Civilian most of the time, bro.”

  “True.” I shrug. Hell, Z still runs Crystal Ball. Took over so I could get away from it. Maybe I offended him.

  “Besides, all those girls always had a thing for you.”

  Before I can comment on the idiocy of that statement, Stella lets out a noise that sounds more like pain than pleasure. I cock my head. “Check on her. Make sure she’s okay.”

  I didn’t need to say it. Z’s already on his way. I follow behind.

  Stella seems more annoyed than relieved at our intrusion which I take as my cue to step the fuck outside.

  Z stops me with a hand on my shoulder. “Stay. Just in case.”

  Yeah, he’s right. I need to stop being such a dick and do what I promised to do. I flop down on the couch and pull out my phone, scrolling through my emails while listening for signs of trouble from the next room.

  Nothing but fake moans and shrieks of, “Fuck me harder!”

  One of my emails is from a jewelry company I’ve ordered stuff for Hope from in the past. I scroll through and find a charm for one of her bracelets and order it. Lord knows she deserves something for not even blinking when I told her where I was headed today.