Hollywood Lies

by N. K. Smith

His eyebrows furrow and he chews on his bottom lip. “Vincent.” He opens his mouth to speak, then closes it again without a word.

  I take his hand and lift myself up. It has taken me a long time to realize this, but I’ve found that many men like to be soothed after sex. Little touches reassure them that I’ve had a marvelous time and like what just happened, but since Vincent will never be anything more than some guy I had sex with, I forgo the overly sappy, lovey-dovey bullshit. I decide to be sensual and fun instead.

  I pull away and let just the tips of my fingers trail down his body.

  His muscles twitch as his flesh rises in response. An involuntary shiver visibly courses its way down him.

  I laugh. “Ticklish?”

  “No,” he denies, but his upturned mouth tells me otherwise.

  Playful now, I reach to tickle the sides of his torso.

  He catches my wrists and keeps me from it. “So, um . . .” he begins, but trails off and darts his eyes to the door.

  “You ready to call it a night?” I twist my hand out of his grasp. I bring it to his softened cock, and it jumps against my palm. I get close to him again and attach my mouth to his nipple as I gently knead his dick back to semi-hardness.

  When I’m satisfied by his body’s response, I pull away and walk backward a few steps. “I have the most amazing shower in the world. Two overhead spigots, and a line of five jets shooting out from each wall.”

  He takes a step toward me and allows me to take his hand.

  “Want to go clean up so we can get dirty again?” I tug him toward the bathroom, but his feet stay planted. “What is it?”

  Vincent’s eyes are cast down as he says, “Well, that’s what I want to ask you. What . . . I mean . . .”

  When he looks up, I look away. This is the part I hate; the part that might destroy the whole evening. Not every guy asks the question, some already know, but then there are the guys like Vincent, a little more sensitive than others, a little too quick to let their dicks trick their minds into believing that sex is the beginning of love or a relationship.

  I give him a little shake of my head and tighten my fingers on his. “I’m sure you’re an awesome guy, worthy of someone’s investment, but I don’t do relationships. When I do, they go to shit.”

  His tongue moves out to run over his bottom lip. After a moment, I tug on him again, and he nods. “I get it.”

  “Get what?”

  “This is just sex.”

  When our eyes connect, I shake my head and smile a bit. “This isn’t just sex; this is the height of bodily awareness. It’s an all-night exercise in worshipping each other in a way that is ancient and primal. There is no better way for two people to connect; to share. We’re contributing to each other’s supply of peace, calm, and harmony.”

  He laughs, the sound of it lightening my mood. “Damn, you’re a good actress, ‘cause that was a bunch of bull.”

  “Come shower with me,” I whisper. This time, when I tug, he follows.

  I adjust my sunglasses, then pick up my cup of mocha from the table. Something about sitting outside at this little café makes me uncomfortable, though I know it’s good for me to be outside. I’m not agoraphobic, but being out in the open isn’t something I do much.

  Whenever I meet my friend, Jesse, he picks the venue, and it’s almost always outside.

  We live in one of the best climates in the world, girl! Why sit around inside where no one can witness our fabulousness? he said once.

  He doesn’t carry the same burden of celebrity and fame as I do, even though he is an accomplished musician. In fact, he is my oldest friend since I met him back on the child dog and pony tour, otherwise known as the child musical phenom circuit. We played several concerts together, me on the piano and him on the violin.

  Jesse is also an established documentarian. He was probably born with a camera attached to his hand. Indeed, he documented my recovery after what happened with Rodney Douglas years ago. While he promised he wasn’t going to sell it, when I was healthy and he showed me the edited footage, I couldn’t let him waste it, so I gave him permission to sell it if he wanted to. He still works on it in between other projects, though. I think he’s dragging his heels to see if I do anything else interesting enough to earn a place in the documentary. Honestly, it’s probably something he won’t sell until he feels it’s good and ready, and he won’t sell it to just any gossip show. He thinks of it as art.

  “Look at you! Outside in full view of the shutterbugs!”

  I turn at Jesse’s voice, stand to embrace him, then whisper in his ear. “This is going to make all the magazines.”

  “Won’t that make Terell jealous?”

  I should’ve known he would have that reaction. As we sit down, I ask about his boyfriend. “How is Terell?”

  “Talented, intellectual, spiritual, enthusiastic, sexy.”

  How could I not laugh at that?

  “So what about you, Colebaby? You okay?”

  His question sobers me up quickly. I think about my failed interview yesterday and the sex with the guy from the club last night. I don’t even remember his name now. “Lonely.”

  “So when are you going to let yourself get another boyfriend? And by that, I’m asking when are you going to have someone around for more than your carnal desires.”

  “Carnal desires?” I take a sip of my mocha. “You’re so dramatic, Jesse. It’s sex; it’s not a clandestine, torrid affair.”

  “You mean a series of affairs, and don’t kid yourself, they’re torrid. I can’t imagine anything with you being tame.”

  I shift to my left and find about fifty photographers jockeying for a better position to shoot from across the busy street. “You make me sound like a dirty whore. Thanks.”

  “Please,” he says with exaggeration. “You know I don’t think that about you. Men go spreading their seed around the world and they’re heroes; it shouldn’t be any different for women. But you’re a tender little flower sometimes, and I just have to wonder if these men even serve a purpose.” Jesse readjusts himself and faces the cameras. He fixes his hair, raises his arm in a wave, and smiles widely.

  “Don’t encourage them,” I say, trying my best not to look at the photogs. “Why don’t we trade lives for a while and you have those guys follow you around all the time?”

  “No thanks, I’ll just bask in the glory of being photographed for the moment.”

  I return our more serious conversation. “And I’m a little too old to be a tender little flower.”

  “Fine. You’re an old over-thirty hag, is that better?” Jesse turns back to me. “But seriously, Cole, you’ll never be able to delete that night. Rod—”

  “Stop.” I don’t want to hear anyone say that man’s name again.

  “He did what he did to you. No amount of sex is going to take it away.”

  “I’m not trying to—”

  “You use your encounters with these guys to remind yourself you’re in control now. I get it. I mean, I got it way back when you first started doing it, but he is dead. He hurt you. You survived. You don’t have to prove that—”

  “I do. I do have to prove to myself that I’m in control. He took every good thing inside of me and for the past ten years, I’ve had to figure out how to get it back or recreate it.”

  “Know what will help?”

  I raise an eyebrow because I know he’ll tell me anyway.

  “A relationship with an intelligent, thoughtful man who will explore all those deep, dark recesses of your mind with you. Like what you had with Oliver or Quin. Know what won’t help? Continuing to pretend that meaningless sexual experiences will cover the pain, or fill the void created by that horrible man. You’re better now, so stop acting like you’re still that wounded victim. You survived.”

  This is why I keep Jesse in my life. No matter how much I don’t want to hear his words, they burrow into me. And even though I tell him I won’t think about what he said, I know I will.

 
Chapter 3

  Devon

  I smile as I curl the script into my hands and tuck it into the back pocket of my jeans. I still can’t believe this is my life: workouts, table reads, and studio conferences. We are now in Boston, and the filming is about to begin.

  I’m not shy, but I like to be alone more than I enjoy being surrounded by people and being the center of attention. I sometimes have a hard time connecting with new people, but the rest of my cast mates accepted me into the group easily. It’s refreshing to not have to push myself to interact with people I have just met. It just feels natural in this situation.

  While Liliana and I are the leads, the supporting cast is composed of young actors at the start of their careers as well, so I feel like we’re on equal footing. A couple of the guys are beefy, obviously gym fanatics, but it’s not like I feel out of place with them. Although I’ve been working out as a stipulation of my employment, I never liked lifting weights. But these guys aren’t vapid gym rats. They keep themselves fit in order to land roles and modeling gigs.

  And the ladies of the cast? They are so beautiful, but not intimidating. I can easily hang with them and not be stunned stupid by their looks, whereas every time I catch a glimpse of Cole, I feel that flutter inside my belly. I find it daunting to try to talk to her, as if her beauty threatens me in some way.

  But her assistant, Julie, is a different story. That woman has come on to me every time I’ve seen her, and now that we’re on location, I see her a lot. The production company has practically rented out a hotel for our use. We just finished a short read-through of tomorrow’s scenes—the first ones we’re shooting—and everyone has gone their separate ways, but I’m surprised Julie hasn’t followed her boss.

  Usually they’re inseparable, but today Cole just took off with her bodyguards in tow, which leaves Julie to tidy up the conference room.

  “Don’t you think the hotel staff will do that?” I ask while she gathers up empty water bottles.

  She looks up and gives me a half smile. “Probably.”

  Bent over like that, I can see her cleavage perfectly. Her breasts look perfect, and I wonder if her coming on to me has been an act. One thing I’ve learned in Hollywood is that everyone acts.

  I decide to help her. “So if the hotel has people who’ll do this, why are you doing it?”

  “Because cleaning up after other people is what I do. It’s usually not physically cleaning up, though.”

  I grab another bottle and a ball of paper from the table in front of me and then walk toward her. “Ms. Stroud’s really needy, then?”

  “She hates being called Ms. Stroud. Just call her Cole like everyone else. And no, she’s not really needy the way some people are. I have friends who work for other Hollywood elite types and, believe me, compared to their stories, I’ve got nothing to complain about.”

  Julie meets me halfway and sorts through the garbage in my arms. She separates the plastic from the paper and puts it in the appropriate container. When she finishes, I stand awkwardly and look down at her. Her hair is shiny and looks like silk.

  “I guess I’m cleaning up because it gives me time away from her. Spending too much time with anyone gets old and puts a strain on—”

  Her words stop as I twirl just a few strands of her hair between two fingers. It is silky as it slides through my fingers. When the hair is back in place, I bring my hand back down to my side. “Sorry,” I say when I see her looking up at me. “I didn’t mean to do that.”

  She hesitates. Just the very tip of her tongue pushes out at the corner of her mouth, then retreats back. It’s good that it didn’t make a complete sweep of her lower lip because that would be too much of a turn on.

  As if I’d never touched her hair, she pivots on her heel and finishes clearing the tables. It must be my dismissal. Rejection sucks; I feel like a toad. But just as I’m about to take a step toward the door, I hear her and stop.

  “You never called me.”

  “I know, I . . . um, I’m not really good with . . .”

  Julie laughs as she stands up straight and regards me with narrowed eyes.

  I fidget and wonder what she thinks about while she sucks her bottom lip between her teeth.

  “Come here,” she says.

  I’m next to her in an instant, my heart thumping hard in anticipation, not sure what will happen, but eager to find out.

  “Sit,” she says after pulling out a chair.

  I comply without argument and feel like I can’t breathe when she sits down on top of me, her legs on either side of my hips.

  She studies me again for a few seconds that seem like hours, and I can’t help but feel the heat between her legs on my thighs. My hands move to the small of her back, and I pull her closer by a few centimeters. Another inch and that heat would be directly above my dick, which is where I want it to be, but I decide to let my hands move down to her ass. It’s firm. I knew it would be. Her form-fitting clothing hasn’t left me without a clue as to what her body would feel like.

  Julie lets out a breath close to my ear, and shivers run through my body. “Let me give you some advice about Hollywood. Timid people don’t get anywhere. If you see something you want, take it.”

  I tighten my grip on her ass as she sucks my earlobe into her mouth. She presses her teeth into the meat of it and scrapes it as she slowly releases the lobe. It’s slightly painful, but not too much, so I start licking her neck, which leads to sucking on it. When she moves her head back, I trail up to her jaw and kiss it with an open mouth.

  “Maybe I’m not so timid,” I mumble against her flesh.

  She smiles and her body is closer now. She presses her breasts against my upper chest and her heat radiates down into my groin. I’m half hard as I bring my hands up to her shoulders and press her down. I want more friction. I want to feel her pussy grinding down onto me.

  Julie rocks her body. I steal her air as I close my mouth over hers and plunge my tongue into it. She groans a little and tightens her legs around my hips. Her movements quicken, and I start to think this could actually happen. I could actually do this woman in the middle of this conference room.

  She snakes a hand down between us and deftly pops open the button of my jeans. The zipper is down and her hand is inside. I buck up into it as she curls her fingers around my fully erect cock. The cotton fabric of my boxer-briefs is harsher against my sensitive skin than I want.

  I want the delicate softness of her hand against the silky skin of my shaft. Just when she makes a move to grant my wish, her cell goes off. For a moment, she ignores it as she scrapes her teeth over my lower lip, but then it makes the sound again, and she pulls away.

  “Damn.” Julie rises and stands on one leg. Without completely removing herself from me, she stretches to reach her cell a few feet away on the table.

  I keep my hands on her waist. Once she has it in her hands, I bring her back down to me.

  She rocks her body on top of me as she reads the message on the cell. Julie tosses her head to shake the hair away from her face and dials the number. “Sorry.”

  I bring her close to me. My mouth connects with the smooth flesh of her chest left bare by the deep V in her shirt. Her collarbone is delicate, and I trail my tongue over it as I listen to her conversation.

  “Hey, Cole. Just cleaning up a bit. What do you need?” Julie pauses for a breath. “Yeah. Okay. No problem. I’ll set it up.”

  I hear the thud of the cell as it lands back on the table.

  “I’ve got to go.”

  Julie is still straddling me, so I continue to pull and shift her. The mimicking of sex has me turned on, and I’m not ready to let go of her yet. I bring a hand up to sneak under her shirt, shove it up under her bra, and press my palm against her breast. The large nipple pressing against my hand sends yet another wave of lust straight to my cock. Her hands bury in my hair as her body continues to move like we’re actually having sex.

  I can hear her breathe. It’s paired with quiet, lit
tle moans that are sending my body into full-on sex mode. My dick is so hard, my mouth is salivating for a real taste of her, and my mind can think of nothing else but maneuvering us so I’m deep inside of Julie.

  Her cell goes off again, and we both groan at the interruption. Julie tries to move off me, but I won’t let her. Instead, I hold her close as I stand up, then bring her down onto her back on one of the long conference tables.

  But the cell won’t shut up, so she reaches blindly for it. My instincts tell me the only way I’m going to get a piece of her right now is to knock the cell away, but I’m too late.

  “Yes?” she says breathlessly into it. “I’m on it. Cole already texted me.”

  As I drive my hips into her, I wish again we were really fucking instead of this playacting.

  She grunts. The sound is satisfying. “Yep. No, I’ve got it. I’m setting it up now.” When she disconnects, the hand holding the cell moves to my chest, and she pushes at me. “I have to go.”

  Disappointment doesn’t even begin to cover how I feel about this development, but I move back so she can sit up. My legs are still in between hers, my hands on her hips. “Can’t it wait?”

  Her tongue makes an appearance to sweep over her bottom lip, and I pull her closer. My hard-on presses into the junction of her legs, and she twists the hand not holding the cell into my shirt. “It can’t. But don’t worry. We’re just pausing for now. I don’t plan on wai—”

  I don’t let her finish as I pull her from the table, spin her around, bend her over with a heavy hand on her back and thrust my dick against her tight ass. I want to give her something that motivates her to return, so I drive my hips against her a few more times and watch her profile.

  Then I let her up, turn her to me, and smack her ass. I have her now. I can see the want in her eyes. She’ll come back to me when she can, and we’ll fuck long and hard. “Don’t keep me waiting too long, okay?”

  Julie steps back and shakes her head. “And here I thought you were a shy guy. Thought you might play hard to get.”