by Sahara Kelly
He grinned. “Got to have something to keep us awake around here.”
She relaxed a little as the warm liquid soothed her nerves, and glanced around. “You mean all this stuff doesn’t?”
The bright fluorescent lights clearly revealed the neat racks of videos and DVDs, and the enormous amount of mammary tissue that seemed essential for the successful merchandising of their contents.
“After a while you don’t pay much attention.”
Daphne heard his words, but having just noticed a particularly lurid cover in the stand next to her, found them hard to believe.
“I’m Jack Foster, by the way.” He held out his hand.
“Daphne Littlewood.” She juggled her coffee and her papers and dropped several sheets in an attempt to reciprocate.
He picked up the papers, took her binder from her arms, set everything down carefully on the table and took her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Daphne.”
She swallowed. He was holding her hand. Warm and strong, his fingers encased hers, and for a moment she let herself wonder if they’d feel as nice elsewhere on her body.
Good grief. It must be the environment. Surrounded by such blatant sexuality, she was already having dreadfully lascivious thoughts. She had to accomplish her mission and get out of this place, before she did something quite dreadful. Like drool.
Of course, he did have a rather nice smile. And he was quite the most gorgeous man she’d seen in years. She’d always had rather a thing for green eyes, and this…Jack…had a pair on him that could probably melt her panties.
She realized she was hanging on to his hand for dear life, and dropped it quickly, looking away to hide the color she knew was flooding her cheeks.
“So tell me, Daphne. If you’ll forgive the trite question…what’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?”
He leaned one hip casually against the table and sipped his own coffee, looking interested. Huh. He’d probably lose that look and be gone in a flash once she told him what she was doing.
Oh well. It had been a nice moment while it lasted. “I’m here for research.”
He tilted his head inquiringly.
“For my master’s thesis.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really. It probably sounds ridiculous, but there is some information here that could be useful to my research topic. Some additional facts and figures—overall impressions—all of which my thesis advisor and I think would…would…” She searched for the right words. “…would add an additional dimension to the entire paper.” She glanced around again. “And not, I might add, a 40-double-D.”
He laughed, a rich sound that seemed to surprise him as much as it did her. “What’s your topic?”
Good lord. He was actually asking her about her thesis. Wonder of wonders. He was probably just being polite. “Um…well, it’s about the media and sexuality.”
“The media and sexuality, huh? That’s pretty wide-ranging?”
Daphne swallowed more coffee. “Yes, it is. So I narrowed it down a bit…I’m focusing more on the literature and publicly available material in the last couple of generations or so. How what our parents could see twenty or thirty years ago compares to what we have available today. What sorts of things women’s magazines discussed back then versus what they discuss today. How self-help manuals have changed. What the bookstores carry on their front shelves as opposed to what used to be buried in the ‘adults-only’ sections. You know the sort of thing…”
She paused. Damn, she was rambling. Any minute now he’d lift that lovely butt off the table and disappear on her.
“That’s fascinating.”
She blinked. “Really?”
“Yes. Taking an in-depth look at how sexuality is portrayed today and contrasting it with how it was portrayed to our parents…well, hell. It’s a great perspective on social development, isn’t it?”
“It is?”
“Absolutely.” He shifted his hip, but made no move to leave.
Daphne was astonished. Especially when he didn’t laugh, didn’t make any inappropriate comments, and genuinely seemed interested enough to grasp what she was saying.
“Your research is in one particular area, granted, but it reflects much of how far society has come, the changes we’ve undergone, and—in some ways—how far we have yet to go.”
“Well, yes…I suppose so.” Do not let my jaw hit the floor.
“There’ve been so many huge social impacts over that time period too.” He gazed thoughtfully around the store. “The pill, of course. AIDS. An assortment of obscenity rulings from the Supreme Court. Women’s Lib.”
She nodded. “All of which have contributed in their own way to changing how we view sexuality.”
“Ah, but have they?” His green eyes turned back to her and nailed her to the spot. Darn. He is—gorgeous.
“Have they really changed how we view sex?” One eyebrow rose a little in query. “For example, how do you view sex?”
From underneath you, please.
Chapter Three
Jack could have bitten his tongue off as soon as the question was out. Fuck. He didn’t want to scare her away with double entendres or off-color comments.
But she didn’t seem scared. Just thoughtful.
Her brown eyes blinked at him and she carefully removed her glasses. “Well, that’s really neither here nor there, is it?”
It was Jack’s turn to blink. Without her glasses, she was quite lovely. In a dainty, unenhanced kind of way. Natural, Jack, natural. That’s the word he was looking for. No cosmetics of any kind plastered over her creamy skin, no massive amounts of mascara weighing down her eyelids, and no out-of-proportion implants swelling the silk shirt. Her own breasts seemed to be doing that job quite nicely.
He jerked his thoughts back up to her face. “How do you mean?” What did you say? I was staring at your shirt and wondering what your nipples look like.
“My thoughts on sex are irrelevant to this project. It’s focused on society in general. How an ‘everywoman’ or ‘everyman’, if you will, views sex. And what they have available to view.”
“Hmm.” Jack considered this. “I’m not sure about the accuracy of that statement.”
One eyebrow rose challengingly at him. “Really? I fail to see—”
“Daphne, you’re writing this thesis. Just think about that for a moment. You can’t possibly write clinically about it. You’re a human being writing about a very human subject. Your own views are bound to color your words. I don’t see how it can be otherwise.”
“But this isn’t going to be anything…condemnatory. I’m not criticizing or judging here, Jack. I’m merely reporting. What I see and what I learn.”
“And you’re going to present conclusions, yes?”
She frowned at him. “Well, of course. That’s the whole point.”
“That’s my whole point. You are going to draw those conclusions. You’ll be defending them during your oral presentation. You’ll be questioned on them, grilled on them if I remember correctly, and they’d better be valid.”
Her eyes narrowed a little as she stared at him. “You’ve been through this.”
Jack shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. “Um…yeah. Years ago though.”
“You have a degree?”
The amazement in her voice irritated him for some reason. He never mentioned his education. His crew, busy filming assorted people fucking in assorted ways, couldn’t give a damn what his qualifications were, just that they got paid.
“Yes, I have a degree. For what it’s worth. But this doesn’t apply to our conversation. We’re talking about you and sex.”
She blushed. “Actually, we’re not. We’re talking about sex in general. I don’t factor into this particular equation. Not at all. Except as a bystander.”
Jack looked at her. Saw the color in her cheeks and watched her eyes as they dropped from his in embarrassment. And felt a pang of lust shoot from his balls to his throat
like a hot knife.
He wanted her. He wanted to factor into her “equation”. And a couple of other places while he was at it.
And he couldn’t for the life of him figure out why. She was so far removed from the women he’d dated that it was laughable. She wasn’t glamorous, or even well-dressed. She was bright, pretty much unaware of him as a man at all, awkward with a discussion of sex—which was his damn life, for God’s sake—and she was throwing him for some kind of a loop that made him dizzy.
He wasn’t about to lose her until he’d had a chance to figure this odd shit out.
His mind began to work furiously. “How about we take a look around to start with? Perhaps I can answer any questions you may have.”
“Are you sure it’s not an imposition? I mean, you must be busy…”
“Not at all. It would be my pleasure.” And yours too, I hope.
“Well, that would be delightful. Thank you.” She carefully tucked a paper napkin into her cup, soaking up the coffee dregs, and dumped it into a nearby trashcan. “Shall we?”
Oh yeah, baby. We shall.
* * * * *
Daphne swallowed down her nervousness as Jack casually took her arm and strolled with her over to a rack containing a large number of DVDs. The sign on top said “Best Sellers”.
“We might as well start with the most popular ones, yes?” Jack was coolness personified. He might have been discussing Shakespeare’s plays, or the latest baseball scores.
But he wasn’t.
They were standing in front of the most lurid display of female flesh Daphne had ever seen. Luscious nymphets of every size, color and dimension were displayed prominently on each shelf, breasts thrusting out proudly, and other portions of their anatomy displayed according to the needs of the film.
Cute Cunnie-Bunnies showed a buxom blonde attempting what looked to Daphne like some kind of cheerleader maneuver. And she was doing it over the heads of two men who were, apparently, performing a visual cervical examination without the rubber gloves and the speculum.
She gulped.
“Do you need to take notes?” Jack’s voice sounded uncomfortably close to her ear and she jumped.
“Uh…uh…yes. Yes, I do. Thanks for reminding me.” She lifted her hand to her pinned-up hair and reached for the pen that she always tucked inside, grabbing on to the first hard thing that met her fingers.
“You write with a hairpin?” He sounded amused.
“Darn.” Flustered, she rummaged in her bag and produced her errant pen. “I usually stick a pen into my hair during the day…it keeps it handy, and pens walk off my desk with amazing frequency…”
Shut up. You’re rambling.
“I know what you mean.” Jack grinned at her, and said no more, simply leading her to another rack of those god-awful DVDs. “Now here is a selection of titles that has a less specific appeal…”
“Less specific?” She tilted her head and looked at him. It was a pleasure. His green eyes were alight, his lips curved in a smile, and holy heck! He was sending little chills of pleasure down her spine.
Cut it out, silly. He’s not going to be interested in the likes of you.
“Less targeted. These would be rented by, let’s say, a couple…looking for some general erotica to spice up their sex life perhaps. Those…” He nodded at another rack. “Those are targeted at specific audiences. Male. Some for younger males, some for older males. Then we have ones targeted for the special interest groups…gays…lesbians—”
“Yes, yes…well, I don’t need that. I’m not looking to get that specific here.” Daphne interrupted him before she died of embarrassment.
“But you do need to know that this particular field is treated much the same as any entertainment product. Markets are analyzed, audience demographics studied…it may not be showing at your local Cineplex five times a day, but the fundamentals of publicity and marketing are similar.”
“But I thought…” Daphne paused.
“Thought what?”
“How can these companies afford to do that? I mean we’re not talking major studios here. This isn’t some Hollywood production with stages, expensive sound equipment and so on. I thought most of these were kind of shoot-it-in-your-room and then edit the heck out of it on your computer type things.”
Jack raised his chin. “Certainly not.”
Good lord. He looked offended. “I certainly didn’t mean to imply that these were garbage, Jack. Don’t get me wrong. I know you run this store, and it wasn’t a criticism of any kind…”
Shoot. She’d blown it. She knew she’d blow it and she had.
He relaxed slightly. “Daphne, have you ever seen one of these?”
She snorted. “Good God no.”
He raised an eyebrow at her. “Really?”
She stared back at him steadily. “Really.”
“And yet you are going to include this entire field in your thesis? I bet you read plenty of research material in the literary field, yes?”
“Well…yes…”
“Let me guess. Anais Nin?” He tapped a finger on his chin. “Probably some Henry Miller? Edwardian or Victoria erotica?”
Impressed in spite of herself, Daphne nodded. “Don’t forget endless back issues of women’s magazines too.”
“Well there you are.”
She looked at him. “Where?”
He reached past her to the rack of DVDs and pulled one down, handing it to her. She took it like it was on fire, carefully, and with her fingertips.
“You’ve done a thorough research job on the printed word. Don’t you think it appropriate to be as thorough with this facet of your work?”
Daphne sensed a challenge beneath his tone as she looked at the title. Love Lights.
A woman was stretched full-length on silky blue sheets across the cover. A man stood in the shadows looking at her. It was erotic, sensual and not quite as explicit as some of the others—until she realized the woman’s hand was resting on top of…her…there.
Ohmigod.
She swallowed. “You expect me to watch this?”
“Why not?”
“But it’s…it’s…” She looked at him standing so close to her, all green eyes and gentle smile, and her body shivered at his expression. “It’s porn.”
He tipped his head. “Actually, that one isn’t, if you follow the strict guidelines set down by the local codes. There is full frontal nudity, of course, but no penetration is actually shown.”
“No?”
“No. And it has a pretty decent plot line, based on a story written by a well-known romance writer. She did the screenplay too.”
“Really?”
“Yes. The actors have done a couple of mainstream things, so they’re not your grunt-and-come dummies. The settings are pretty exotic…” He gestured to the package in her hand. “You really should rent it. Watch it. Get a feel for what’s going on.”
“A feel?”
“Yep. A sort of ‘Beginner’s Guide to Porn’ experience.” He steered her to the next DVD rack. “For example, here we’ve got a bunch of country lasses.”
Daphne looked at the covers and blushed. She really doubted that the hardworking members of the dairy industry actually dressed like that.
“So you see the covers, offering the titles, star information, ratings, and so on. But what can you actually tell about the movie itself?”
She tried to focus on the cover and wrench her awareness away from Jack. “Um…well…it was cold in the barn that day?”
He laughed. “Exactly. You can’t tell a damn thing from the presentation, can you?”
She shook her head.
“So? Easy conclusion here, sweetheart. You have to watch one. At least one.”
He called me sweetheart. Her mind skipped back into sixth-grade mode. Perhaps he likes me.
She blinked and gathered the shreds of her self-possession around her like a cloak. But she wasn’t cold. Hah. Anything but. “I do understand your argument. B
ut I’m afraid it’s not possible. I don’t have a DVD player. Just the old-fashioned VCR.”
“Not a problem. There are players for rent here.”
“Oh no—I couldn’t. Really I couldn’t. All those wires and fiddly bits?” Daphne grimaced. “I’m afraid it would need to come with a ‘Beginner’s Guide to Electronic Component Setup’ to do me any good.”
A slow smile spread across Jack’s delectable lips. “It would be my pleasure to help you out, Daphne.”
Her body moaned. Silently, quietly, it moaned. Take him up on his offer, and ask if he’d mind you licking him from head to foot while he made the right connections. Visions of some of the connections she’d like him to make darted across her consciousness.
No. No. Bad mind. Bad.
“I…uh…”
Jack straightened. “Look, I’m about done here for tonight. I’d love to help you out here, honey. For research purposes only, of course. I’ve been a grad student. I know something about the pressures of getting it right, and looking back on it I could have used a helping hand.”
He extended his arm towards her. His palm looked warm and inviting and would have felt just perfect on her breast.
Daphne’s nipples hardened beneath her turtleneck, and she bit down on something that would have been a groan if she’d let it out.
“But…I don’t know you…” Every instinct screamed at her to not let a stranger into her apartment. Absolutely not. No matter how much she wanted to, or the hundred and one things she’d like to do when she got him there. Most of which involved him naked.
He tilted his head. “You’re right. You don’t. I can assure you I’m not an axe murderer, or a serial killer.” He chuckled. “I’m not married and I’ve never been married. Hell, I’m not even dating anyone at the moment.”
“You’re not?” She blinked.
“Nope. Got tired of the whole thing. The bars, the parties…the endless stream of…well…you know.”
“Er…yes.” Her dating experiences recently had been limited to the one associate professor she’d met at a faculty tea. Not quite the same thing at all.
“So what do you say? I don’t know you either…but something tells me you’re not an axe murderer, and I’m willing to take a gamble. How about you?” He waited.