Though we were too busy to escape the office and secretly fuck our brains out, lunch was my favorite part of the day. Ordering in or grabbing something from our commissary, Olive and I spent time in my office or the conference room reviewing storyboards for the upcoming Donut King commercial. Olive was still in shock that she was cast as The Big O Girl. I had negotiated an excellent deal for her, and if the commercial was successful, she would make a lot of money and become a household name. I’d be lying if I didn’t say that sometimes this possibility disturbed me. The thought that she might become America’s Sweetheart and be loved by every Tom, Dick, and Harry drove me insane with jealousy. Olive could only be loved by one man. And that man was me.
Okay. Let’s stop with the bullshit. The real problem wasn’t Olive. It was me. I kept my word and refrained from having sex with her in the office. All day long I suffered from a disease, which I dubbed boneritis. I had a constant hard-on from fantasizing about all the ways I could fuck my princess. Once I even fantasized her slipping a donut over my cock and eating it off me though in reality my fat cock wouldn’t fit through the hole. My manhood throbbed all day long, and there were times I thought it might burst right through the fabric of my slacks. There was no cure for this malady except jerking off, but I couldn’t be doing that all day long. I had work to do. Plus, I was getting callouses on my fingers as it was. I tried to stay seated at my desk as much as possible so as not to display my condition to my staff.
There was something else on my mind besides sex. Something bigger. I’d found the time to go to my safety deposit box at the bank and take out my mother’s wedding ring. It was now sitting in a small vault at my house. I was dying to pop the question to Olive, but wanted to wait till after the shoot. Even though I suspected that Jaime Zander knew that Olive was something more to me than my assistant, there was no need to arouse any kind of suspicions as to why Olive had been cast as The Big O Girl—either with his staff or mine. Though she won the coveted role fair and square all on her own, people liked to talk and jealousies abounded. Most of all, I didn’t want to incense Clint, who was surprisingly behaving like a good soldier. I didn’t trust her. Not one bit. She was like the calm before a storm. A cobra ready to strike. I had to be on guard and protect my princess from her fangs.
I did, however, have my proposal scenario all laid out. I was going to take her out dancing. While the haunts my parents frequented were long gone, I’d done some research and discovered that every Saturday night at the Beverly Wilshire Hotel—the one where they filmed Pretty Woman—there was dancing to a big band. The posh hotel would be ideal. I’d make her wear one of my mother’s prettiest dresses, take her for a fine multi-course meal with champagne, dance with her to all the greats, and then pop the question over dessert. I was still thinking of some creative way to surprise her with the ring. Hopefully, an idea would come to me soon.
The days leading up to the shoot were busy ones. Production meetings with Jaime and his team abounded. There were read-throughs and run-throughs as well as discussions about wardrobe, hair, and makeup. It was amazing how much work went into producing one little thirty-second spot. Something you could miss if you had to leave the TV to get a beer. Jaime wanted to preserve the Donut King’s retro spirit. Retro was hot right now. While his Director of Photography’s primary concern was having enough donuts around in case any melted from the hot lighting, mine was my princess. I didn’t want anything to happen to her.
The day of the shoot, we arrived on location at six in the morning. The place was hopping. Jaime’s production manager had managed to secure the strip mall parking lot exclusively for our use. And already double-parked inside it were dozens of cars along with a food truck just outside on the street. I parked my Hummer in my reserved spot right next to what must be Jaime’s Porsche as the vanity license plate read ZAP!, the name of his agency. Already a crowd of people was gathered around the mall, hoping to get a peek of some Hollywood action. Security guards were holding them back.
“Oh my!” exclaimed my wide-eyed Olive as I helped her out of the car. I took her hand. It felt clammy. Through she was well-prepared for the shoot, clearly she was nervous. I couldn’t blame her. Anticipation was pulsing through my bloodstream. I had a lot riding on my Big O Girl. And on this commercial. It was going to make us or break us. But whatever the outcome, it wouldn’t come between my princess and me.
We were greeted by total insanity as we set foot inside the shop. Production personnel were skittering about prepping for the shoot, adjusting lights, cameras, and mikes as well as making sure that trays of colorful, mouthwatering donuts were lined up perfectly on the shelves. Jaime, dressed casually in a T-shirt and jeans, took note of us immediately and jogged our way. Holding a chocolate frosted donut in one hand, he gave me a man hug.
“How you doing, man?”
“Good. How’s it going?”
“Great.” His eyes darted to Olive, who was soaking in everything.
“You ready for your close-up, Olive?”
“I-I hope so,” my princess stammered, her voice small and uncertain. I could feel her grip my hand tighter as Jaime took a big bite of his donut and grinned.
“Super! Let’s get you into hair and makeup.” He shouted out to two production guys, Trent and Gray, to come our way. They were both skinny with spiky black hair and clad in black jeans and T-shirts. One sported a sleeve of tattoos on his right arm.
“Hi, beautiful!” he gushed as he fluffed Olive’s blond hair. “I can’t wait to work on you.”
Though he was probably gay, I cringed at having another man call my Olive beautiful and touch her intimately. I swear I wanted to punch him out for even coming near what was mine. Only mine. I clenched my fists by my sides so I wouldn’t do anything rash. Stop it, Owen, I willed myself.
“Where are Marge and Nathan?” I asked Jaime, trying to relax.
“They’re already in hair and makeup.”
“Can I watch them do up Olive?” I asked, thinking that would be a way to keep my eye on her and make sure no one touched her in places they had no right to be. The thought of someone undressing and dressing her made every nerve in my body light up like sticks of dynamite.
“It would be better if you didn’t. We’re doing hair and makeup as well as wardrobe in the room next to the kitchen, and the space is really tight, plus we’ve got the extras in there too. Just grab a cup of coffee and a donut and relax until it’s your turn. Olive’s in great hands.”
Though he didn’t mean it literally, the vision of other hands touching my Olive made my nerves ignite. Another familiar voice turned my head.
“Hello, Owen. I’m sorry I’m late. I stopped off at a twenty-four hour liquor store to pick up a couple of cases of champagne. I thought we’d all celebrate after the shoot.”
It was Clint. Standing behind her were two production assistants, each struggling with heavy boxes filled with champagne bottles. She flashed a smug smile as her gaze shifted to Olive.
“Break a leg.”
I don’t know if she meant it literally or figuratively, but coming from Clint I’d bet on the former. I now had a reason not to accompany Olive. I had to keep my eye on Clint. While she’d been very cooperative over the last week, I still didn’t trust her. And to add insult to injury, she was holding a cup of Starbeans coffee in her hand. I bet just to piss me off. Before I could say a word to either her or Olive, my princess was whisked away by the hair and makeup guys.
Thirty-five long minutes later Olive re-emerged. Holy fucking cow! She looked ravishing. Dressed in a hot pink full-skirted dress that belonged to my mother, the sweetheart neckline scooped low to show off her enviable cleavage and nipped at the waist to show off her luscious curves. My princess was a natural beauty, but the cherry-red lipstick and smoky eyeliner made her even more beautiful as did her glossy blond hair, which fell over her shoulders in soft waves. She was a fucking knock out! A total pinup girl. My cock rose in my jeans, giving her a standing ovation. I knew I sho
uldn’t have worn tight jeans, but that’s what Jaime wanted me to wear for the shoot along with a Donut King T-shirt. A big mistake. I was going to fucking ache in them all day, longing to take off her dress and eat her up alive.
“Okay, quiet, everyone!” shouted the director through a megaphone after I returned from hair and makeup. “Take your places. We’re going to do a dress rehearsal and then we’re going to shoot this baby.”
Everyone got into their places…the extras in the booths, Marge and Nathan behind the counter. But Olive, she just stood there as still as a statue. All the color drained from her face and she began to shake. Fuck. She looked like she was about to pass out.
As her legs began to buckle, I ran up to her and caught her in my arms just in time.
“Everyone, take a break. Take a walk down the block. And give us some time.”
“Aaah-love.” A deep, tender voice hummed in my ears as soft fingertips dusted along the side of my face, bringing awareness into my body. My eyes fluttered open. Owen King was sitting beside me on the edge of a couch, a smile curling on his lips as I regained consciousness.
“Hey.”
“What happened?”
“You fainted,” he replied, helping me into a sitting position. “Not so fast. Take it easy.”
I took in my surroundings. I was back in the small room where I had my makeup and hair done and was transformed into The Big O Girl. My pulse quickening, I could feel sweat clustering behind my knees.
“Owen, I don’t think I can do this. I don’t know what I was thinking, but I definitely wasn’t expecting such a big production. I’m totally freaked out.”
Owen chortled, curling a ringlet of my hair around one of his long deft fingers. “Princess, there’s no reason to be intimidated. You’ve just got to relax.”
The door to the room swung open and another warm familiar voice sounded in my ears. Marge.
“Hun, are you all right? I’ve brought you some water.” She headed our way.
Taking the plastic cup from her, Owen answered for me. “Thanks, Marge. She’s going to be fine. Just a little case of stage fright.”
That was an understatement. I was a basket case.
“Drink,” he commanded, holding the cup to my lips. I took a few sips, but the cool liquid did little to quell the butterflies swarming my stomach.
“Is there anything else you need?” Marge asked Owen.
“Just let everyone know that Olive will be back in a few minutes ready to kick some butt.”
Thoughtful Marge smiled. I could see the adoration she had for Owen in her eyes. “You’ve got it,” she said and then left us alone.
I took another sip of the water. “Owen, seriously, I don’t think I can do this.”
He took the cup from me and set it on the coffee table. His eyes seared into me. “Olive, you can do this. Everyone is counting on you.”
I gulped. He was right. I had no choice. And I couldn’t let him down. Nor the production team. Nor Marge and Nathan. Too much had gone into this commercial, both time and money-wise, and Owen personally had a lot riding on it. I shuddered…and a lot riding on me. This was my chance of a lifetime to do something I always wanted to do. What was wrong with me?
Owen’s gaze softened, his eyes traveling down my body and landing where the skirt of my flirty dress hit just above my knees. “Seriously, my princess, all you have to do is relax. Don’t let me down.”
He took my hand and put it to his crotch. Flying as high as a kite, his rock hard cock singed my palm.
“You have no idea how much I’d like to fuck you senseless right now and spill my cum down your legs, my beauty, but I can’t mess you up.” Slowly, he lifted the hem of my dress, exposing my garters and silk stockings. With a hiss, his hand skimmed up one of my thighs until it reached the apex. He slid his fingers under my panties and caressed my pussy.
“Jesus, Olive. Is this what being nervous does to you? You’re soaking wet.”
“I guess so.” I shrugged as he continued to stroke my sensitive folds. I was dripping with molten liquid. And love.
“Princess, put your hand under your pretty panties and find mine.”
Breathing heavily, I did as he asked. Our fingertips met and I could feel how wet his were.
“Good. Now, I want you to spread your legs and play with yourself. Close your eyes. Just relax. I’m going to be right here watching you come. Think about me. How much you want to please me. And how much I want you to pleasure yourself.”
I closed my eyes. I’d touched myself before but truthfully had never brought myself to an orgasm. But now, with the man I loved with all my heart watching over me, my pussy so hot and wet, the cluster of nerves between my legs buzzing with want and need, I began to rub my clit with vigor, fantasizing his enormous cock inside me.
“Good girl,” I heard him say as I threw back my head, biting down on my lip to stifle my half-sobs. “Now, put your other hand down there and put a finger inside your sweet little hole and pump it up and down.”
Again, I did as he asked, shoving my middle finger deep inside me. I’d never done this before and was surprised by what it felt like. So hot and wet and so soft, and as I pumped harder, it was like the walls were expanding and closing in on my finger. Like there wasn’t room for it. I pumped harder, faster, all the while rubbing my clit in ragged circles. My body heated up like an oven. Oh dear God! I was so close to coming, my heart racing and the pressure rapidly building toward the inevitable.
“Come on, Olive. Come for me. Let me watch your sweet pussy explode.”
Then it started, first with my clit. A quick burst of relief that was instantly followed by another burst of insane pleasure that juddered around my finger and then surged through my body like a tsunami.
“Oh, Oh, Oh, Oh!” I cried out, repeating the word louder and louder until there was no more of me my orgasm could claim. Riding it out, I blinked open my eyes to find Owen leaning into me, his grinning mouth just a breath away.
“That was so fucking beautiful. I’d kiss you to pieces, princess, but I don’t think I’ll be able to stop. I’ll take all of the lipstick off your delicious lips and then probably rip off your pan—”
“What the hell is going on here, Owen?”
The shrill voice cut him short. Mallory! She was standing at the doorway; neither of us had heard her enter. I quickly adjusted my dress, making sure it covered my legs. She shot me a scathing look. I wondered if she knew.
“Owen was just coaching me. I’m much more relaxed now.” I was both fortified and at ease from my mind-blowing orgasm.
She knew. She scoffed at Owen. “Just for your information, we’re running late thanks to Miss Prima Donna. We’re not budgeted to go into overtime.”
Owen, unaffected, remained business-like. “Clint, tell everyone to be ready to resume.” He shot me a wink. “Olive knows just what she has to do.”
It was time to let this woman know she could no longer insult me or deter me “Get out of my way, Mallory. I’m ready for my close-up!”
“Lights! Camera! Action!”
The words echoed in my ears. Adrenaline pumped through my veins giving me something that resembled a sugar rush. The dress rehearsal had gone perfectly—relaxed, I totally nailed it—and now it was time to shoot The Big O commercial. While Mallory seethed, a small victory for me, Owen gave me big smile. Oh yes, I was ready. So ready.
“One, two, three…rolling!”
CAMERA PAN: On extras in the booth drinking coffee and looking glum.
CUT TO: Me bouncing through the door. A big smile on my face. All eyes are on me. I march up to the counter. Cheery Marge and Nathan are behind it.
Marge: “What can we get you, sugar?”
Me: “Mmmm. They all look so yummy!”
A camera tracks the counter and the trays of colorful donuts with me.
Me: “Eeny, meeny, miney…moe!” (I point to a cream-filled donut.)
Marge: “Here you go.” (Smiling, she hands me the
donut.)
Me: (I turn around, put the donut to my mouth, and take a big bite.) “Oh! Oh! Oh! OH!” (The creamy custard pours out, some getting on my lips.)
CUT TO: An extra: “I want what she’s having!”
CUT TO: Another extra: “Me too!”
All the extras run up to the counter and order donuts until all the donuts are cleared off the shelves. (In editing, they’ll speed this up so it looks like the donuts are consumed in seconds.)
ANGLE ON: Owen: “I’m the Donut King. Let me put the big ‘O’ back in donuts.” (Stepping on a wooden box to make me look taller, I join Owen and, closing my eyes, lick the cream off my upper lip with a loud orgasmic moan. I then smack a kiss on Owen’s cheek. Grinning, Owen winks at the camera and makes a perfect A-OK circle with his thumb and forefinger. Via editing, a sparkling crown will magically appear on his head.)
“CUT!” I heard Jaime shout out. My heart was racing as he ran up to us. “You guys fucking nailed it. We’re going take a fifteen minute break, and when we come back, we’re going to do some close-ups, safety shots, and some B-roll.”
“Did you hear that, Olive?” beamed Owen as he lifted me off the box and swung me around. I was so excited I barely noticed Mallory stalk outside.
“That’s a wrap!” shouted Jaime on the top of his lungs.
Shouts of whoo-hoo, yes, and way to go mingled in the air. Ten long but exhilarating hours later, the new Donut King commercial was in the can. In addition to Jaime, many members of the production crew came up to congratulate Owen and me as well as Marge and Nathan.
“Olive, you have star power,” remarked Jaime. “Are you sure you won’t reconsider and do a commercial for my wife’s new plus-size lingerie line?”
Owen possessively flung his arm around my shoulders and answered for me. “Yes, she’s sure.”
Smiling, Jaime high fived Owen’s free hand. “Well, man, I guess you own her.”
“Yup. I own The Big O Girl.” Owen gave me a squeeze. “Every ounce of her.”
The Big O (An OTT Insta-love STANDALONE) Page 12