by Tara Sivec
Wait! What am I doing? Am I seriously manhandling a Hollywood movie star?
I should let go of his arm. He can walk by himself without me pulling him. And yet, I can’t bring myself to let go. Now that I’ve grabbed onto him, it would be weird to immediately drop his arm like it’s on fire, right? And apologize for just reaching out and grabbing him all willy-nilly like he’s an unruly child, and not like he’s a famous person whom I barely know? Yes, that would be weird and awkward.
Oh look! We’re already at the door. The voices in my head can stop arguing now.
“It sure was lovely meeting you, Jameson!” Sharleen gushes. “Heidi, I’ll be sure to tell your mother what an… interesting job you have.”
I sigh in defeat and hang my head. “Have a good day, kiddo!” my aunt shouts to my back as Jameson and I turn around and he opens the door for me. “You should use the back door next time. I’ve heard it’s much more thrilling going in the back way.”
Jameson chuckles as I quickly walk past him and into the office, shaking my head with a groan.
“I guess it’s my turn to apologize. But look on the bright side. Your aunt is hilarious,” he says as he follows me over to the front desk and I stow my purse in one of the drawers.
“Oh, it’s fine! No big deal!”
Jameson slowly shakes his head at me with a grin.
“You’re too nice. My wife would have already threatened to chop off my balls if I said something like that in front of people she knew, without realizing they were standing there.”
A tiny smile forms on my lips as an idea begins to bloom. “How soon before she gets here?” I ask eagerly.
“That’s who I was on the phone with. Her plane just landed, so she’ll be here as soon as her Uber driver finds the place.”
Boldness and self-confidence, here I come! As long as my mom doesn’t kill me first.
Chapter 10
“It wasn’t that bad. You were adorably drunk. And look! You had seven more views on the second podcast than you did the first one. It’s pretty rare for someone to be absolutely amazing at something the first time they do it. You just need more practice.”
Aubrey Kenter, aka Penelope Sharp, aka Jameson’s wife, hands my phone back to me in the break room at EdenMedia, where she convinced me to let her listen to my podcasts. I met her exactly an hour ago when she burst through the front doors and flew into Jameson’s arms, where I practically swooned in my chair behind the desk, watching them reunite after being apart for several weeks while Jameson was filming. After they broke apart and Jameson introduced us, he disappeared into a recording booth and Aubrey dragged me in here for some girl talk.
Just like with her husband, I immediately felt at ease with her—like I’d known her for years. Since Jameson had already told her a little bit about me and my recent dilemma of being unable to do anything about the crush I have on Brent, I filled her in on the rest, including how unhappy I’ve been with my life, and that if we hear a fifty-six-year-old woman screaming from the reception area, “Heidi Marie Larson, come here right this minute!” we should run and hide in the nearest closet. Which then led to her convincing me to pull up my podcasts, where I covered my ears and hummed the tune of “Mary Had a Little Lamb” until she was finished.
What surprises me the most about Aubrey is how… normal she is. I’ve seen pictures of her and Jameson on red carpets over the years, and she’s always looked so stunning and glamorous. She sits across the small, circular table wearing an oversized Cleveland Indians sweatshirt and a pair of ratty jeans. Her long blonde hair is piled up on top of her head in a messy bun with strands falling out all over the place like she just woke up from a nap, and she’s not wearing a stitch of makeup. She’s definitely pretty, but I don’t feel like I thought I would sitting next to her—small, and inconsequential, and boring, and like an ugly troll who could never catch the eye of her handsome neighbor. I feel like I’m on even footing with her. Like, if we were both out in public somewhere, a man’s eyes wouldn’t immediately dismiss me and latch onto her.
Aside from the fact that she might get heckled walking down the street for not wearing a Minnesota Twins sweatshirt, she looks like any other Minnesotan. She looks like me on a Sunday afternoon when I used to curl up on my couch and grade papers. This is what shocks me the most. That an average, everyday woman—whom I recently found out used to work from home as a medical transcriptionist before she quit to write full time—could get a guy like Jameson Kenter to fall in love with her. It gives me hope.
“I’m finished with my anal sex and it was magical!”
Aubrey and I glance over to the doorway as Jameson walks in.
“That sounded much better in my head,” he mutters before walking over to the table and giving Aubrey a kiss on the cheek then taking the seat right next to her. “I’ve got a thirty-minute break. What are we discussing?”
“I just finished listening to Heidi’s podcasts, and we were getting ready to move on to how she’s not comfortable around men and what we can do to fix that,” Aubrey explains. “Particularly, initiating conversations, flirting, making the first move, stuff like that.”
Jameson rests his arm on the back of her chair. I can’t stop the sigh that comes out of my mouth when I watch him rest his palm against the back of Aubrey’s neck and gently start massaging it.
God, I want that. I want a guy who doesn’t even think about doing it, who just sits down next to me and has to touch me.
“I think Heidi is plenty comfortable around men. She’s fine with me. She’s funny and talkative and adorable. And I’m Jameson motherfucking Kenter. It doesn’t get much more manly than that.”
“If you want to get laid in the next century, never speak those words out loud again.”
“Noted. But, another point in Heidi’s favor, she made the first move this morning by grabbing my arm and dragging me away from her aunt and friend. She touched a dude without giving it a second thought.” Jameson shrugs.
Oh, I gave it a second thought. I gave it so many second thoughts I almost had a nervous breakdown on the sidewalk.
“Um, excuse me,” I speak up. “It’s true. I do feel comfortable around you, but that’s probably because I don’t want to make out with you. I mean, no offense. You’re really pretty. You’re just not my type.”
Aubrey throws her head back and laughs, and Jameson presses his hand over his heart.
“You wound me, Heidi. You seriously wound me.”
Once Aubrey stops laughing, she leans over to the side away from Jameson and digs around in her purse that’s on the floor by her feet. She pops back up a few seconds later with a notebook and pen, smacking them down on the table.
“Okay, let’s do a quick little word association thing. It will help clear your mind so I can get a better idea of how you feel about this Brent guy,” she explains as she scribbles a few things in her notebook. “I’m going to say some random words. Just say the first thing that pops into your head when you hear them. Don’t think about it; just say what comes to you first.”
I nod, folding my hands in my lap as she begins.
“Clouds.”
“Fluffy,” I reply.
“Heart.”
“Love,” I say with a smile before she really gets down to business and we start the rapid-fire round.
“Tablecloth.”
“Dinner.”
“Boat.”
“Water.”
“July.”
“Fireworks.”
“Tomatoes.”
“Garden.”
“Brent.”
“Sex.”
My hand flies up and smacks over my mouth as soon as that word flies out in relation to Brent’s name.
Aubrey let’s out a loud, whooping cheer, dropping the pen and notebook to throw her hands up in the air.
“Yeah, that’s right, you dirty girl! I knew I’d find you in there somewhere!”
“I didn’t mean to say that! Wait. Did I mean to say tha
t?”
“Of course you meant to say that. You did exactly as I asked. You didn’t think; you just said the first word that came to mind. And you, my sweet, adorable, new friend Heidi, have sex on the brain,” she says, turning in her chair to look at Jameson. “Honey, don’t get me anything for Christmas. This is my present, right here.”
Jameson chuckles before giving me a pointed look.
“See? I told you my wife would be over the moon about playing matchmaker. She can’t help herself.”
“I successfully set up Eric and Lindsey, didn’t I?”
“Yes, yes you did. My best friend and your best friend are blissfully happy,” Jameson concedes. “But are you forgetting about Alison and Colby?”
“Colby was a manwhore who couldn’t keep his dick in his pants, and no one gave me the full disclosure ahead of time about his wandering dick. That doesn’t count. Heidi is lovable and charming and beautiful, and she needs someone who will appreciate that. We just need to find out more about this Brent person to see if he fits the bill.”
Jameson and Aubrey both look at me expectantly, and I just shrug my shoulders.
“I don’t really know that much about him other than he’s really nice and sweet and he takes time out of his day to talk to me and ask me how I am.”
“And he looks good with his shirt off. Don’t forget to add that to the plus column,” Aubrey adds.
I can feel a blush heating my cheeks when an image of sweaty, shirtless Brent flashes through my mind.
“That!” Aubrey shouts, making me jump as she points at my face. “That’s what we need to work on. Your confidence. We all know you just thought about this guy half naked and sweaty. My husband—who is extremely hot, mind you—is sitting right next to me, and even I’m thinking about Brent half naked and sweaty and I’ve never met the guy. Own it. Be proud of the fact that you think he’s hot and want him. There’s no shame in that.”
“Tell me again how hot you think I am, and I’ll forgive you for picturing another man naked,” Jameson tells her with a smile.
“Bite me. You already know how hot you are. I am not here to stroke your ego. You have plenty of adoring fans for that.”
“I love it when you talk all sweet and romantic to me.” He laughs, pushing back his chair and standing up.
My heart flutters as I watch Aubrey reach up, clutch the front of his shirt in her fists, and yank him back down to her.
“How about I make it up to you later by talking dirty to you? I’ve got a scene I’m working on that needs some research. It involves chocolate sauce, a vibrator, and me wearing nothing but a smile,” she speaks softly, her lips right up against his as they stare into each other’s eyes.
“Anything in the name of research,” Jameson whispers back.
Aubrey gives him a quick kiss before pushing him away. He gives both of us a wave before he walks around the table and out the door to go back to the recording booth.
“Teach me how to do that,” I tell her once he’s gone.
“How to do what?”
“How to just… grab a guy and pull him close and say stuff like that to him. I want to learn that.”
“Ahhh, grasshopper, you’ve come to the right place,” Aubrey replies, rubbing her hands together like an evil mastermind. “We’re going to start off small and work our way up. Jameson said you asked him how I could write all those dirty sex scenes knowing people would read them, and that’s exactly how I did it. I started small. My first drafts were a mess and read like police reports with just the facts. Man on bed. Woman lying on top of him. They roll around. Clothes come off. End scene. I freaked out, thinking about my mom or my grandmother reading it and what they would think of me. It came down to me getting out of my own head and discovering what I wanted. It was my story and I needed to tell it how I wanted to. And I wanted my story to be real. People have sex. People have hot, dirty sex, and it’s glorious. You just need to find out how you want to tell your story. How you want to live your own life and do what makes you happy without worrying about what other people will think of you.”
“I want to be bold and fearless,” I tell her.
“Then, let’s make you bold and fearless.” She smiles. “Let’s do another game. I’m going to say some words, and you just repeat them back to me.”
I take a deep breath and nod for her to continue.
“Kiss,” she says.
“Kiss,” I easily reply.
“Sensual,” Aubrey states.
“Sensual,” I repeat back.
“His kiss was sensual.”
“His kiss was sens-s-s-s-sational. Oh, cripe. What is wrong with me?” I complain. “It’s like there’s a roadblock between my brain and my mouth that won’t let me put those words together.”
Aubrey laughs, grabbing the seat of her chair and scooting it around the table closer to me.
“I’m giving you two pieces of homework tonight. You’re going to do another podcast, and I’m going to give you a few excerpts from the book I’m working on now to practice reading during it.”
She quickly reaches over and pats my hand when she sees the look of anxiety on my face.
“Don’t worry; they’ll be tame. Just something small to start you off so you can work your way up to the good stuff.”
“Okay, I can do that. What’s my other homework?” I ask.
“You’re going to initiate a conversation with Brent.”
“Like, talk to him? As in, say something to him before he says something to me?”
“Exactly. But I’ll start you off small there too. Do you have his cell phone number? You can just send him a text.”
“Yes. We exchanged numbers the day he moved in, but I’ve never used it or anything. I can’t just text him! What if he only wanted me to use it in case of an emergency, because he was just being neighborly by giving it to me? Like, if my stove caught on fire, or someone was breaking into my house, or I got a piece of chicken lodged in my throat, or my fridge fell on me?”
“I’m concerned by the idea you’d be in a situation where your refrigerator would fall on you,” she muses. “Or that you would take a time-out from choking to death to text someone.”
“I am a single woman who lives alone. You have no idea what kind of horrors go through my mind on a daily basis.”
Aubrey gives my hand another squeeze of reassurance.
“All you’re going to do is text him, tell him you were thinking of him, and ask him how his day was. Easy-peasy.”
Easy-peasy my patootie.
“Looks like I’ll be stopping by the store on my way home for some more boxed wine.” I sigh.
Chapter 11
Heidi’s Discount Erotica, Episode 3
“Okay. Woooo, what am I doing? Okay. All right. I’m just gonna start. Start by starting. Set down the wine; I’ve had enough. Maybe one more sip. Okay, now I’ve had enough. I need a cracker. Hold on. I’m gonna hit pause.”
*
*
*
“I’m back! Why does wine make me so hungry? It’s made from grapes. So, I’ve basically had like… seventeen pounds of grapes. I shouldn’t be hungry. Anyway, welcome to Heidi’s Discount Erotica, do-do-do! Tonight, I’m gonna be reading some hot excerpts for you, kind of like the way you might go bungee jumping off Minnehaha Falls—by closing your eyes and just jumping right over the cliff, weeeeeeeee! Or maybe kayaking. Kayaking can be scary, right? I mean, what if your kayak tips over and your legs are stuck in the boat and you can’t get out while you’re just floating down the river and everyone thinks it’s just an empty kayak that got loose, when there’s really a person under there trying not to drown and no one can hear you scream, because you’re under water? Oh, God, I’m having heart palpitations now. Sorry. I need another sip of wine. Okay, that’s better.
“Where was I? Oh! Hot excerpts. Yes. So, these were given to me by a friend at work today. I haven’t even looked at them yet. She printed them off and then shoved them in my purse. She
said it’s my homework, along with a text I have to send, but we’ll get into that later. I have homework! I feel like one of my students, so this is very exciting. Except the homework my students had was more like coloring a picture of a dog. This is more like one of those adult coloring books with all the swear words in it. You know, without the coloring. So, basically, it’s just swear words. But hot swear words.
“Okay. Excerpt… One.
“Was that good? Like, kind of breathy? I feel like these should be read all sexy and breathy. Is breathy a word? I’m pretty sure it is. It’s a weird word. B-r-r-r-eathy.
“Okay, here we go…
“‘In all the years I thought about kissing him again, I pictured it exactly like it was in high school. Clashing teeth, sloppy tongues, and wiping the drool…’ Drool? Eeew. That’s gross. I’m sorry. Okay, let’s try this again. ‘…and wiping the drool away from our chins when it was over. This kiss is nothing like that. His lips are firm, and his tongue moves boldly as it swirls around… my…’ I’m sorry! I shouldn’t be laughing, but come on! His tongue moves boldly? Like, all I can think about is a tongue in a Superman outfit! His tongue moves boldly where no man has gone before!
“Okay, okay, okay! It’s serious now. Time to get serious. Tongues do not wear capes. This is serious and hot. We’re very serious and very sexy. Hold on, I need my spray bottle. Fun fact for you guys. I saw a narrator today at work with a spray bottle filled with water on his stand, and I was so confused. My dad had a spray bottle he carried around the house with him at all times, because Boots, the cat we had when I was growing up, liked to jump up on the kitchen counter and the dining room table. Whenever he’d see Boots sitting somewhere he shouldn’t be, my dad sprayed him with the water bottle. I thought maybe we had a cat at work no one told me about. But no. We just have narrators who get dry mouth from all that reading, so they spray water into their mouths.”