by Anthology
Wardrobe will kill me if I mess my costume up before we’ve even started filming.
Shit, Drew wished he could see Sydney right now. He desperately wanted her here to keep him calm, but it was beyond selfish to ask his girlfriend to be on set while he filmed a love scene with a woman who had made Sydney’s life miserable.
Besides, if I had to watch Sydney mess around with another guy, fuck, I’d lose my goddamn mind.
A hand gripped Drew’s arm and he flinched, twisting around to see who laid their hands him. Of course. Drew rolled his eyes and took a steadying breath.
“Kiera,” he said coldly. Drew had told her dozens of times that he didn’t like to be touched, yet she continued to ignore him, forcing herself into his personal space again and again. Her advances were really beginning to piss him off.
Drew reached down and plucked Kiera’s hand from his arm. Carelessly, he pushed it to her side. Kiera sneered in anger, her pretty face twisting into a hideous grimace for a blink and you missed it moment before her phony smile was back in place.
The woman all but purred and rubbed against me like a cat in heat. “Andrew, if you won’t let me touch you, how are we going to get through this scene?”
Copious amounts of alcohol?
Drew suppressed what he really wanted to say. No matter how he felt, he would have to do his best to remain professional. Well, except for smelling like chum that sat in the hot sun for half a day. Drew bit the inside of his cheek so he wouldn’t laugh in her face.
“That’s for work, Kiera. You know I don’t like to be randomly touched.” Drew gnashed his teeth in annoyance.
“By fans, Andrew. I thought you didn’t like being touched by fans. I’m… well, I’m me. Surely you don’t mind me touching you.” She fluttered her eyelashes. How she thought anything she said or did would change his mind, Drew didn’t know. The woman was delusional.
“No Kiera, I don’t want to be touched by anyone who doesn’t have permission… from me.” He gave Kiera a stern look. She smirked so Drew spun on his heel and stalked away before he said something stupid. “Dan!” Drew called out to the director. “What’s our schedule? Are we starting soon or what?”
I need to get this shit over with and shower off the filth, and I don’t mean the sweat and sex.
“Yes, get ready okay? It should only be another five,” Dan said. The director adjusted something on his screen and turned to chat with the assistant director.
Frustrated, Drew unbuttoned the shirt that he threw on over his microscopic wardrobe and tossed it aside. The only things he was wearing were loose tan cargo pants and the ridiculously uncomfortable modesty patch, aka ‘cock sock’, underneath.
“Clear the set! Places!” the AD called out.
Drew inhaled, cracked his neck, and put on his Andrew Forrester acting mask. He refused to let the entire crew see how miserable the thought of touching Kiera made him.
I’m a professional fucking actor. I can do this. I’ve done dozens of love scenes.
He went to the side of the bed and waited while most of the crew vacated the set. In his head, Drew went over the different shots and angles they had to get along with his lines.
Out of nowhere, Kiera sauntered up next to Drew. She already shed her robe and was only wearing a tiny satin nightie. The crew made sure to crank down the a/c on days they filmed love scene since it got incredibly hot under the lights. Because of the cold temperature on set, it was clearly obvious that Kiera wasn’t wearing her required pasties.
Jesus, it literally never ends with this psycho.
“Dan!” Drew called out and waved the director over.
He hustled to the set. Dan wouldn’t want to waste time, but he knew that my happiness was paramount to getting his all of his shots in without any delays.
“Yes Andrew?” Dan asked. He gave me a placating smile that made me want to punch him upside the head.
Drew stabbed my thumb in Kiera’s direction. He refused to give her the satisfaction of looking at her.
“Dammit, Dan. She’s not in full wardrobe. There are no nude breast shots in the scene, so why aren’t her patches on? Is this not a professional movie set or are we doing porn?”
Dan’s mouth dropped open and his eyes flicked over to Kiera’s chest. Her protruding nipples proved my point to the director.
He squirmed uncomfortably. “Ummmm, uh, Kiera, you can’t expect us to… ummmm.”
Fuck professionalism.
A Hollywood director with as many films under his belt as Dan should be able to control any situation.
“Jesus Dan, I’ll say it.” Drew spun to face the crazy actress. He was getting more and more pissed by the minute. “Go back to your dressing room and get wardrobe to put your goddamn pasties on, Kiera. This isn’t a porno and I’m not in the mood for your bullshit.”
Kiera gave Drew a knowing smile. Her mouth pulled up on one side, as if mocking him.
“Dan, remember? We spoke about this. I’m allergic to adhesive. It’s in my contract.” Kiera shot Drew a cocky look, one eyebrow arched, and satisfaction clearly written all over her smug face.
If my face is as red as I think it is, it’ll be another hour before I calm down enough to appear on camera.
“You manipulative bitch,” Drew began. His hands curled into fists at his sides.
Dan stepped between the two actors and pushed Drew back with a hand to Drew’s chest.
“Andrew, she’s right. It’s in her contract.”
“And no one thought I needed to be aware of that?” he roared. He didn’t give two shits who heard him at this point. Dan shrugged, it wasn’t his problem that Drew didn’t like it and the director knew it. Drew was trapped. Everyone on the set was waiting to begin and not wanting to be in contact with a beautiful woman’s tits wasn’t going to be a good enough excuse to hold up production.
“Fuck!” Drew shouted. He spun away from Kiera to calm down.
Dan came up behind him and gave his back a manly slap.
“Dude, it’s going to be fine. They’re just breasts, right?” Drew heard Dan sniff. “And by the way, you need a fucking shower, you reek.”
Dan jogged back to his place behind the screens and cameras. “Places!” The A.D. called out.
Drew turned to face Kiera. He gave her his own evil grin.
“Ready to get up close and personal with the real Andrew Forrester?” Drew jogged in place, then dropped to the floor and did twenty push-ups to work up a nice sheen of sweat. When he was done, the rank smell wafted up, surrounding him… and man, it wasn’t pretty.
He edged up to Kiera’s side and angled his body until the actress was nice and close to his underarms, where the smell was the worst. Drew could tell the second his stink hit her. Her nose wrinkled in disgust and she took a step back.
Leaning down, Drew whispered in the conniving bitch’s ear, “You’re not the only one with tricks up your sleeve, Kiera. Enjoy.”
The horror on her face made everything we were about to do worth it.
Let the games begin.
“Action!”
Drew recited his lines and crossed the room. He pulled Kiera into his arms and almost broke character when her nostrils flared. She looked like she was choking down a gag.
Good.
“I’ve missed you so much, baby. Please. It’s my last night in town. I need you.” Drew ran his hands down the sides of Kiera’s satin nightgown.
“I-I…” Kiera inhaled and Drew nearly burst out laughing when her eyes bulged.
Oh yeah, get a good whiff. You wanted me? You got me.
“Cut!”
Dan stalked over and pulled Kiera to the side. Drew turned his back to them and chuckled. The woman could barely get her lines out he smelled so bad.
“No Kiera, we can’t do this tomorrow. We have two hours to finish this scene.” Dan backed up to speak to both of them. “I expect professionalism from my actors. Enough of the petty crap. Deal with your shit and do your goddamn jobs.” The di
rector stomped back to his seat.
Drew smirked at Kiera’s put out look. When she finally managed to spit out her lines, Drew grabbed the hem of her lingerie and pulled it over her head, making sure his armpit was nice and close to her nose. He caught her swallowing down another gag and internally cheered.
“Oh god, baby. You feel so good.” Drew kissed her, struggling not to gag himself.
He pushed her down on the bed and unbuttoned his pants. They dropped to the floor. Kiera stared up at him from the bed and licked her lips. They were both naked except for his cock-sock and her nearly transparent panties. Kiera licked her lips and recited her lines, but Drew knew she was checking him out.
Easy to do when I’m too far to smell, sweetheart.
He crawled onto the bed and laid his body on top of hers. Drew braced his elbows on either side of Kiera’s head as written in the scene. She was completely surrounded by his body odor.
“Oh god!” Kiera shouted, and it wasn’t in pleasure.
She shoved him off with a hand to his chest and leapt from the bed, retching.
“Kiera, is there a problem?” Dan dropped his headset and glared at my co-star.
Eyes wide, Kiera looked from Dan to the few other people in the room. When she realized no one was going to help her out or give her any sympathy, she fixed her expression and stood tall.
“I’m fine, Dan.”
“Good. Start from your last line, Drew.”
Kiera climbed back into the bed. Drew could feel her trembling beneath him. She was struggling to control her gag reflex. Drew grinned down at her and she shot him a furious look. He leaned down and whispered in her ear low enough that the boom mike wouldn’t pick it up.
“You wanted this, Kiera. I hope you enjoy every fucking minute of it, because I plan on using the entire two hours to torture you.”
“I hate you,” she hissed.
Drew smiled. “Now I have everything I ever could have wanted.”
She was still glaring when Dan called out.
“Action!”
The End
About Heather
* * *
I like to write angsty, dark stories with a side of humanity. When I’m not spinning tales of the tortured and famous, I’m a full time procrastinator. I love chocolate, dogs with squished in faces, and the Boston Red Sox.
Heathercleighauthor.com
Happy Birthday, Jesus
HJ Bellus
“Want to go to dinner with us?” Olivia tosses her purse over her shoulder.
“No, I’m good.”
“Scout, you can’t live on Hot Pockets and cheese sticks forever.”
Oren steps up behind her, planting a soft kiss to her temple, and pulling her back into his chest.
“I have plans.” I blow my ratty hair from my face.
“And Chuck Norris has a vagina.”
“He might,” Officer Lady Boner adds.
“I do. So screw off.”
“What are they then?” She pops her hip and places her hand on it like a real badass. Ever since that girl has had active cock in her life you’d think she was fucking Rambo.
“I’m going to church.” I stick my tongue out at her as I stand up.
“You better wear flame retardant clothing then, Scout,” Oren says between his laughter.
A love-scorned chick like me should despise these two, but I don’t. In a sick and twisted way, Olivia and Oren are my only forms of comfort these days besides tormenting Pedro.
“For real, whore, what are you doing?”
“If I’m lucky, I’ll be doing Paxton McNeal.”
Olivia’s face lights up like a child on Christmas morning. “Paxton McNeal. As in the Paxton McNeal from high school?”
“Yeah.” I pick at the raveled hem of my t-shirt.
“Oh my god, Scout, is he back in town?”
“Just for the holiday and we’ve been chatting on Facebook.”
“So, let me get this straight you’re meeting up with The Paxton McNeal, the hottest guy to ever walk the halls of our high school.”
“Settle down, tiger.” Oren tugs on Olivia’s shoulder. “You’re hurting my manly ego here.”
Olivia turns to Oren, taking the heat off of me for the time being. “Sorry, baby. You’re still the hottest on the block and my lady boner.”
“We were suppose to have dinner, but he canceled so later on I’m going over for Netflix and chill.”
That gets Olivia’s ripe old attention. “Seriously?”
“God, Olivia, you’re so easy.” I chug back a glass of water. “I’m going over there in a couple hours.”
“To Mr. McNeal’s house?”
I nod.
“Won’t it be awkward since you work with him?”
“Wait, you guys work with a hot guy?” Oren asks.
“No, we work with his dad. He’s the PE teacher.”
“Thank God, thought I had some competition.”
“Oh no.” I pat his shoulder as I stroll by him. “This gem is all yours and only yours.”
“Text the details, Scout. We’re going over to Dad’s afterwards to stuff Easter eggs for the community hunt in the morning.”
“You got it.”
The slamming of the front door comforts me. Pedro scratches at my feet so I snag him up and curl him under my arms. I’m going to die when Olivia and Oren get married and get their own house. I love this damn dog. I’ll never admit it, but I love the little dry humping machine.
I may have lied a bit to Olivia about tonight, but it won’t hurt a thing. Paxton’s parents are out of town tonight and tomorrow. We’ve been full on sexting and getting down via Snapchat over the last few months.
Dating has been dismal since Taylor and truth be told my heart still remains in shattered pieces. I may or may not obsessively stalk him and his new fiancé on every single social media platform. I’ve promised myself that if I ever find myself with night vision binoculars hidden in a bush then I have a serious problem and not until then.
I grab my phone from the counter and text Paxton.
Me: We still on for 8
Paxton: Damn straight we are
Me: See you then
Paxton: Wear that purple lace lingerie you always tease me with.
The reflection in the mirror screams extreme whore makeover. There’s no quick up-do or another layer of make-up that will fix any of this hot mess. Most weekends I look this way unless there’s a family function or Olivia drags me out.
“Go get your bone, Pedro.” I turn on the shower and wait for the water to heat up to a scalding temperature. I grab the purple panties and bra Paxton requested along with a pack of razors and wait.
“FKAT,” I mumble and then draw the letters on the top of my thigh.
“FFAT.” I repeat the same action.
First kiss after Taylor and first fuck after Taylor may possibly be going down tonight with Paxton McNeal. The high school football all-star who went on to play in college, and is now playing in the pro league might be getting into my panties tonight. It was all a crazy ass mistake of how we even started talking.
I had to show his dad how to use Facebook and Skype to keep up with his famous son. Mr. McNeal is the elementary PE teacher and fits the stereotype to a T from the whistle to the scary as hell scowl. My spine stiffens when I pass him in the hall and I always fear he’s going to yell, “Scout, give me fifty.”
One night, I messaged Paxton letting him know his father’s usernames and stuff and that there was a very slim chance that he’d ever figure out how to work it and we just started chatting. Paxton’s into the game as in eats, breathes, and sleeps the game and all the shit that comes with it not leaving him much lady time.
So our sexting and very inappropriate conversations flowed easily and rapidly to the point he took my breath away from his naughty pictures and promises. He only comes home a couple times a year and promised me a visit. Goosebumps prickle all over my skin just thinking about what the man could do to
me in his bed and then I smile, finally thinking life is good.
“The perfect FFAT.”
I climb into the shower and begin lathering myself from head to toe with my cherry blossom scented shaving gel. My fingers grow nervous with each swipe and I wonder where the foul-mouthed and over confident Scout drifted to. I shave like there’s no tomorrow and then when I think I’m finished, I lather up again and repeat the shaving motion.
By the time I head for my car, I could compete in a hairless competition with those ugly ass cats some people love. The drive is nerve wracking and I’m not sure if it’s because of the possibility of the FFAT or the fact I’m going to see Paxton McNeal, the hometown-fucking hero.
My luck, a world-class case of the sharts will strike mid-humping. That’s all I need is a shit fart combo to plague my night. My phone dings in my purse and I ignore knowing it’s Olivia going ape shit crazy over the fact I’m about to meet up with the stud of all studs.
My butthole puckers when I pass mine and Olivia’s childhood homes. Paxton lives two blocks down and three over. And even though he was an under classmate, Olivia and I use to spy on him in the summers, willing him to take his shirt off. One time he caught us ogling him and asked if we needed help. We both shook our heads and told him we were walking our dog. He pointed to a leash with no dog on it. Olivia’s bastard dog had escaped and we hadn’t even noticed it.
I kill the engine in front of his house and strum the steering wheel, feeling like that silly teenager with a massive crush on the star quarterback.
“What in the hell are you thinking, Scout? Abort mission. Abort FFAT, stat. You are not a qualified quarterback humper.”
In a rush, I fumble for my keys, but Paxton McNeal hollers my name before I can find them. When I look up, he takes my breath away standing on his front porch in lose blue jeans, a dark V-neck t-shirt, and messy blonde hair. My ovaries do a somersault taking in the gorgeous man.
I offer a weak wave before realizing I’m practically licking my fucking window. He effortlessly jogs down the few steps and his long sidewalk and opens the door for me.