by N. K. Smith
“Wow,” Liliana whispers and looks at me with something like awe in her expression while Collette’s eyes examine me as if I’m a science experiment. Liliana licks her lips.
“Well said.” Collette smiles. She nods toward Julie who is staring at me with a certain kind of hunger I usually only see in bars and clubs when women are beyond tipsy and looking to get laid. It boosts my confidence, and I stand up straighter. “Julie’s set us up over here.” Collette points to the couch and chairs. “You don’t mind if we record the audition?”
“No,” I answer as I sit down. Liliana sits down next to me, while Collette sits in the chair and Julie perches on the arm.
“You don’t mind doing the audition in my office, do you? I know it’s a bit cozy, but I’m here all the time. If you prefer, we could go into my editing room, or the conference room down the hall.”
I feel a bit awkward about how comfortable she tries to make me. Maybe my fear has translated onto my face. I try to shift my expression into something neutral and say, “No, this is fine. It’s almost bigger than my apartment, but I feel good here.” Jesus, that sounded stupid. “I mean, I think this is just fine for the audition.”
“Good. As long as you’re relaxed. You’re on a very short list of actors for the role,” Collette says. “That video you sent in was pretty incredible. I was going to ask you what you thought of the script, but you’ve already shared that with us, so tell me why you want to play Jamie.”
I respond with what I rehearsed with Natalie. Although it isn’t as passionate as my words before, I can tell by their nodding and smiles that the women like it.
“Well, let’s start with the reveal scene.”
I look around for my script. I thought I’d set it down on the sofa when I got here, but now I can’t find it. I don’t have any of the lines memorized. “Uh, I can’t . . .” Damn, I left it in the car.
“Need a script?” Julie asks, rising to give me her copy.
I take it and give her a faltering smile before flipping quickly to the scene in which Jamie shows himself to Liliana’s character. I clear my throat and begin. “Maya, you don’t know what you’re—”
“Talking about?” Liliana cuts in right on time. “You’ve been messaging me, asking me to trust you, promising me that we’ll meet, and you never follow through. You haven’t even sent me a picture! I mean, what is it? Are you, like, disfigured or something? I don’t get why you don’t come out from the shadows and let me see you. I want to see you!”
The scene is set in a darkened high school auditorium, so I imagine Jamie hiding in the safety of darkness while Maya stands in the middle of the aisle, surrounded by empty seats. I need to be on my feet, so I grab Liliana’s hand, pull her up, step away from the couch, and place her in the middle of the room while I slink away. I curve my back because I think Jamie would try to keep hidden, out of the light.
“You don’t understand,” I read with inflection. “I can’t send pictures, or meet you at the coffee shop after school.”
“Why? Why can’t you?”
“Because I . . . because I’m . . . I’m not like other boys.”
“Jam–”
“I am disfigured, Maya!”
“What?”
“I was in an accident when I was five, and now—”
Liliana cuts in. “You don’t have to lie, Jamie. If you don’t want me, don’t want to be with me, just tell me.”
“I don’t just want to be with you. I need to be with you. I can’t think of anything else, but I’m not stupid enough to think you’ll be able to love me once you see me.” I pause for dramatic effect before straightening my back and take a step toward Liliana who is looking the other way. “I . . . I want to show you, but I’m afraid.”
“Are you being serious?” Her voice is soft and holds all the insecurity needed for the character.
“Who would lie about this?”
Liliana changes her voice into something a little more snotty. “Lots of people, you know, guys who’ve started something they can’t finish.”
“Well, that’s not me.” I pause, then take another step forward. “Here I am,” I say with a strong voice that shows both Jamie’s willingness to prove himself to Maya and his fear of doing so. Now close behind Liliana, I hover my free hand over her shoulders, and just like in the script, she has goose flesh.
“Great. Wonderful. That was . . .” Collette turns to Liliana.
The younger woman nods.
Collette says, “Well done. Now, could you both turn to scene ten, where Maya convinces Jamie to take their relationship to the next level?”
Scene ten is where Jamie and Maya touch for the first time. The touches give way to some pretty hot stuff—at least hot for a PG-13 rated film.
This time, Liliana reaches out for my hand, and leads me back to the sofa. Julie follows our movements with the camera. I glance down at the script and read, “You don’t have to pretend to be okay with how I look.”
The softest smile plays on Liliana’s lips as she recites, “You’re beautiful. There’s no scar in the world that can change that fact.”
The dialogue ends and the make out scene is next. Jamie is supposed to be a bit nervous and scared, something I feel myself.
Liliana leans in and grazes my cheek with her lips and whispers, out of character, “Relax.”
It’s all I need to toss the script to the side and move my hands to her waist. I pull her closer and kiss her full on the mouth. Liliana Addison tastes delicious, like strawberry shortcake. Her lips are plump and soft. I dip my tongue into her mouth, and it zings as it touches hers.
There are no characters at this point. At least not in my mind. It’s just me and this hot woman. I bring her onto my lap and grip her hips as she straddles me. Liliana arches her back and breaks the connection of our mouths, so I lick and suck at her neck and the exposed portion of her chest. Without thinking about it, I put a hand against her breast. I press my palm against her hardening nipple as I tighten my other arm around her small waist and crush her body to mine.
Someone coughs. I pull back and find the other two women watching us. I’ve got a semi-boner, and if Collette hadn’t stopped us, I would have been ready to take Liliana right then and there.
It takes a moment for Liliana to catch her breath, but when she does, she moves off and settles down next to me.
Collette says, “While I appreciate your bravery and passion, we need to protect the PG-13 rating, and while we’re adults, the audience will most likely be teenagers. I want this to be a movie their parents will take them to, not something they’ll sneak out and see without permission.”
My face flushes with embarrassment, but I sneak a peek at Liliana.
She nibbles on her lower lip and her face is tinged pink as well.
“Well, thanks for auditioning. We’ll be in touch soon,” Collette says.
It’s over already? That seems abrupt, and I struggle to keep up. “Oh, yeah, thanks for having me.”
Collette reaches out her hand.
I take it, my palm sweaty but tickling with energy as it presses against hers.
“It was a pleasure meeting you, Devon.”
“We’ve met before,” I say quickly.
“Really?”
It’s as if we’re alone. Both Liliana and Julie disappear as I remember that day so long ago. I’ve thought about it often throughout the years, and it’s kept me going during times when my spirit was low. “Well, sort of. You were filming From Here to There in New York, and I stood out in the rain with my acting class just to see you. During a break, you came over, shook my hand, and told me to keep acting.”
I can tell she doesn’t remember, but that doesn’t matter. I’m just one in a million fans she has spoken to throughout her career. Although I would have liked the spark of recognition in her expression, I’m not embarrassed for sharing the memory. It was one of the most significant interactions of my life. Our eyes are still connected when she finally drops my
hand.
I’m not sure what to think, but I force myself to turn away. “Thank you for your time today,” I say to Liliana.
On the way out, led by Julie, I feel like I’m on top of the world. Right before I walk outside, Julie’s hand on my forearm stops me. “You did extremely well. I can tell they were both impressed. Tell your agent to expect a call by Monday.”
I feel my smile widen. “Thank you.”
“Here.” She pushes a piece of paper into my hand. “If you need anything, or you know, just want to grab some coffee sometime.”
I unfold the paper and pride swells within my chest. I’d come for an audition of a lifetime and am leaving with a hot girl’s number. Today is an awesome day. Maybe my life truly is starting.
“Thank you,” I say again.
With a nod, Julie closes the door.
I walk back to my car with a lightness in my body.
At home, I have nothing left to do but wait for the outcome of the audition. I grab a beer and a pack of opened lunch meat from the refrigerator as I check my voice messages on the landline.
“Mr. Maddox, this is Cheryl from Doctor Harmon’s office, reminding you of your three-fifteen appointment tomorrow. If you—”
Delete. Stupid cavities. I shove three slices of turkey in my mouth.
“This message is for,” the automated female voice begins and pauses before continuing, “Devon Maddox. This is an attempt to collect a debt. Please stay on the line for a—”
I set the receiver back in the cradle and flop down onto my nearly threadbare sofa. My apartment is incredibly small. It’s in a shitty part of LA because I can’t afford anything else. When I lived in New York with my friends, I thought our apartment had been small, but that was only because three other guys were sharing it.
My cell rings and startles me out of the daze I’ve settled into. “Hello?”
“So how’d it go, man?”
I swig the beer and smile. Of course, it’s Brady calling. Of all of my friends, Brady is like a brother. “Good, I think.”
“Cool. So, tell me about it.”
I finish my beer and let the bottle drop to the floor. “It was crazy. Collette’s office is in this huge building. The actual office was bigger than my apartment. Never seen anything that massive before.”
“I didn’t ask what Cole Stroud said about your dick, dude,” Brady says with a laugh.
My cock swells at the thought of Cole looking at my naked body with her pale green eyes sizing me up, and her pink tongue running over that full bottom lip. What would that be like?
There had been a certain kind of energy passed between our palms when we clasped hands at the end of the meeting. I wonder how that electricity would feel passing through our most sensitive spots.
“Come on, tell me about the audition, man.”
I grab my dick as I remember scene ten and answer, “It was wild. I read with Liliana Addison, and we were all over each other. We had to do a dramatic scene and another where we made out.”
“Fucking lucky! She’s hot.”
“Yeah, it was cool. I grabbed her boob.” I laugh, then draw in a sharp breath as my groin stiffens even more at the memory of her soft flesh against my palm. “I guess I’ll know by Monday,” I say. “Man, I’m beat. I’m gonna hang up. We on for tomorrow night?”
Brady hesitates, then says, “I thought you wasn’t going.”
I had declined the offer when I still felt depressed and thinking about changing the whole direction of my life. Now, with the audition behind me and with the confidence it gave me, I want to go out to the bar. “Yeah, that was before. You guys are only in town for a few more days.”
“Good. Cooper’ll crap his pants. He thinks some A&R scouts are gonna be there for his music. He’s hoping to—what’d he call it—network.”
I squeeze my hard-on again. “Cool. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
Once off the call, I let my imagination run with a fantasy.
As I push my pants and boxer-briefs down past my hips, I think about Collette’s pale green eyes locked on me while she runs her hands down the backs of the Julie and Liliana who are kissing. With just a nod of my head, I tell Collette to come to me, and she does.
For a moment, we watch the younger women move from kissing to something more.
Julie trails her mouth down Liliana’s neck and shoulders, then pauses to lick each nipple before moving lower. My back stiffens when I feel Cole’s wet mouth mimic Julie’s. It’s not a tough decision to make when I turn and watch Collette swirl her pink tongue around the head of my cock.
Involuntarily, I shut my eyes and throw back my head when her mouth completely encompasses me. She doesn’t gag; she only moans, which sends thrilling vibrations through my flesh. I can only think of the fact that Collette Stroud is giving me head and loving it. The thought intensifies the sensations she gives me, and before I can try to hold back, I come.
I open my eyes and reclaim my breath as I relax my head back into the arm of the couch. I look down at my spent body and wish my orgasm had been more satisfying.
Although masturbation does the trick, the fantasy was unimaginative and lacking in details. Despite the emotionless encounter with Alicia earlier this week, I’ve been in a sexual drought, and now it’s affecting my fantasies. But all that might change soon. If I land the role, I’ll have sex thrown at me by adoring fans and movie industry people, and if I’m lucky, potentially one of the three women I met today.
I feel lucky.
Julie had given me her number after all.
I move into the shower and duck my head under the hot stream of water. The thrum in my body, be it my heart or something else, tells me I won’t have to wait long for the results of my audition.
My life is about to begin.
Chapter 2
Cole
I feel a wave of relief now that all the contracts are signed and the production schedule can go forward as planned. All of my first choice talent has agreed to do my low budget teen movie, but that doesn’t say much since almost all of the young actors are unknown with little experience and they’re chomping at the bit to be in any movie. Liliana is the only actor signed to Tortured Devotion with any kind of credentials. Although she has built a decent beginner’s resume, Lili can’t demand high salaries for her roles right now, but if I do my job correctly, that will change.
While I’m pleased with Liliana’s participation in the film, I want to see what Devon Maddox can do. When I first received his recorded audition, it impressed everyone at the studio, but I was wholly taken with the young man’s on-screen charm—especially when I walked into my office and saw him admiring my guitars. His aura filled the room. Sure, he looked nervous, but there was something raw and beautiful underneath his tense, but humble presence.
As my bubbly blond makeup artist finishes making my eyes smoky, I begin my ritual of getting into character for a scheduled television interview. First, I clear my mind of all thoughts, then only allow in the neutral ones that don’t reveal anything about my true self. Once I have a handle on the superficial part of my psyche, I open my eyes.
I banish all sensational emotions. The ones that can be provoked. The ones that can hurt. The character I slip into is the media-appropriate version of myself.
It’s only an interview, but I perform almost every moment of my public life. That happens, though, when I’m surrounded by people who would rather sell a tidbit of gossip about me than strike up an actual relationship. I rarely allow interviews and almost never allow myself to be interviewed by anyone other than Ronnie Reynolds, America’s Media Queen.
But Zara, my publicist, assures me that though I won’t be interviewed by Ronnie, I have nothing to fear. Zara swears Carmen Wolfe is a harmless up and coming media darling who just needs a prominent name to interview in order to launch her career. In return, I’d get great press for my upcoming projects and a good chunk of cash I’ll donate to one of my many charities.
“Ms. Stroud!
Ms. Stroud!”
A very excitable young man comes speed walking toward me, and I plaster on a smile.
“Ms. Stroud,” the young man, no doubt a production assistant, says again as he comes to a stop. I size him up. Broad shoulders. Nice, sculpted body underneath those clothes. Large hands—that always turns me on. But something in his eyes tells me I’m not his type. Unfortunately for me, this hot specimen is gay.
“Carmen’s ready for you, if you’re . . .” He pauses to catch his breath and then finishes, “if you’re ready.”
“Well, I’d hate to keep her waiting.” I stand, give a polite smile to my makeup artist, and motion to the stage. “Show me the way.”
The production assistant leads me to an area that looks like a comfortable living room. The décor is refined, no doubt what the television studio thinks my own house looks like. On the set, Carmen occupies a plush chair. The rich, brown fabric offsets her dazzling gold top. Carmen stands. Her toothy smile tells me everything I need to know about the young journalist. It’s insincere and gives the impression of her being nothing more than a hanger-on, ready to piggyback on others’ successes. She probably thinks everyone should be clamoring to make her life easier.
Despite my instant dislike, I allow myself to be swept up in a hug because it is expected.
The interviewer greets me as if we’re old friends. “So good to see you.”
“Pleasure,” I return and carefully extract myself from the embrace.
The assistant attaches and tests my mic, and I sit down in an overstuffed chair which is uncomfortable and hard.
Julie shows up and kneels on one knee beside me. “Zara says everything’s taken care of. Don’t worry.” She flips my hair behind my shoulder and flattens out a few flyaways as she tries to reassure me. “I know you hate this, but just grin and get through it.”
“No choice now.” Our eyes lock for a moment.
Julie knows how much I hate this; how anxious I get. She smiles a cheesy grin.
I can see my tiny reflection in her eyes. For just a second, my eyes are hard and my mouth is set in a straight line. Remember the character. No one cares or knows about the real Cole Stroud unless I let them. I paste on my most pleasant smile in the universe. It’s the smile I use in all interviews and red carpet events.