by Harley Rayne
“You really are a piece of art,” he murmurs before he kisses my forehead. “You make me crazy, and I can’t get enough.”
“I’m always here,” I tell him, and I kiss his chest, my fingers slipping up to toy with the hair there.
“I wish I’d known sooner.”
“Me, too.”
I fall asleep there, like this, wrapped in Rob’s arms, and it’s difficult to convince myself that this is anything other than an absolutely wonderful dream.
When I wake up the next morning, it’s to Rob’s alarm, but he’s already pulling on his clothes. I sit up in bed a little, wiping sleep from my eyes, and ask, “Do you ever sleep in?”
Rob glances over at me, smiles, and crawls back into bed to kiss my lips. “Morning, kid. You wanna ride in with me? We can get breakfast from crafty.”
I nod, realizing that taking time off isn’t an option for either of us. He’d offered, and at the time, I’d agreed, but in the light of day, I’m feeling better. And if I had the energy to sleep with Rob, I have the energy to go into work.
“Just give me five and I’ll be ready to go.” I scoot out of bed quickly and Rob watches me go to the small closet that’s attached to my room.
He’s my addiction already. And that’s a problem.
Chapter Fourteen: Brett
Rob isn’t the first to set today. In fact, I beat him there. It’s a once in a lifetime thing, I imagine, but I’m having breakfast with a few crew members when he walks in.
Kylie is on his arm. Fuck.
She’s hugging it, their hands are clasped together, and I suddenly feel sick to my fucking stomach. They see the other people on set, and they withdraw from one another, suddenly professional, but anyone who was looking would have seen the inevitable. They slept together. Great. How fucking typical of a director like him.
Karen approaches me, her eyes on them, too, and she speaks in a conspiratorial whisper. “You saw that, right?”
I don’t want to get involved, so I dig into my container of salmon and take a bite. “Saw what?”
“Oh, come on. Rob? And Kylie? He took her home yesterday after her little incident -- and, by the way, who the hell passes out on a movie set anymore anyway? -- and it looks like they had their way with each other.”
I mumble, “Glass houses.” Karen shoots me a look.
“What was that?”
I look at her now, irritated. “I said glass houses. You can’t exactly give someone else shit for something that you’ve done.”
“I haven’t passed out.”
I give her a look, a raised eyebrow, and she recoils, sinking into herself slightly, saying, “Right. That. Well, whatever, we were consenting adults.”
As if Rob and Kylie aren’t. I still think it’s bullshit, but I’m not going to continue to make this comparison. I step away from her to look for Melanie, who isn’t quite on set yet. I can’t handle the idea of another moment looking at the new happy couple, so I retreat, letting Keith know that I’ll be in my trailer.
I’m restless once I get there, and I’m not even hungry anymore. I hit the floor, my feet hooked under the couch, and frantically begin a few reps of sit-ups. With each huff of air that leaves my lungs, I feel simultaneously better and worse.
Kylie is too good for Rob. I know she doesn’t feel that way now, or she thinks he’s exactly what she needs, but he’s not. He’s a snake in the grass, and maybe he doesn’t think so now, maybe he thinks he’s doing the right thing by her, but he’s manipulative and shady.
If I’d taken her home last night, I never would have touched her. And I sure as hell wouldn’t have encouraged her to come on set today. If she’d insisted, I would have refused. She’s sick. She needs time to recover.
Thirty-three… thirty-four… thirty-five…
I try to concentrate on the count of my sit-ups instead, but I wind up frustrated, losing my own count somewhere between fifty and fifty-seven. If it can’t be exact, I don’t want it.
So I crawl out and flip over, beginning a line of push-ups. I usually do them until I’m exhausted, so I start quickly, one after the other.
I wonder if Rob has any morals, or if he’s just abandoned them for this particular situation. I can’t see how any self-respecting man can actually take advantage of a girl like this. He’s a veritable Benedict fucking Arnold, and he has to know it. Everything he does is calculated.
When I found this film and got the script and started fighting for the role, I knew immediately Rob would put me in. But he made a big fucking deal out of it, drove down what I’d get paid for it, playing Lori like a violin. I hadn’t said a damn thing, not wanting to rock any boats, but I’d known what he was doing.
Low budget. So cut the budget on the porn star, and get a no-name for the female role so you can give her opportunity but little pay. Smart business. Shitty person.
My arms are starting to burn, so I pick up the pace. I need to hit my second wind.
I have no idea what time it is anymore or how long I have until I need to be on set. But all of this seems irrelevant at the moment. If he wants me to play the stereotype role, fine. I’ll step into it. I’ll be late. I’ll fuck up my lines.
It’s petty of me, I know, but I’m feeling petty at the moment, and used.
By the time my arms are worn out and I push myself until I’m standing, I’ve decided that the planning is enough. I’m a professional at the end of the day, and I’m not going to fuck that up just because the director is a dick.
I let out a breath through my nose, wipe the sweat from my brow with my arm, and I’m feeling slightly more spent as I return to the house, five minutes early and ready to work.
I’m getting my hair and makeup done when Kylie approaches, smiling. I mirror the action, even if there’s very little behind it.
“Thank you for checking up on me yesterday,” she says, and I nod politely.
“No problem. You got us all freaked.”
“I hadn’t really eaten. I think that’s the problem.”
I fold my arms over my chest a little, eyes darting to her. And even just looking at her, I feel slightly better. Everything is cheerier when Kylie is around. My smile turns genuine. “Yeah, well, not eating does tend to lead to loss of consciousness. You should probably look into that.”
Kylie gives me a childish nyeh nyeh look. “Yeah, well, I watched a documentary once about this religion of people who let their elders die with dignity. And at a certain point, the elder stops eating and basically starves himself, or herself, because after a certain point, there’s a feeling of euphoria, so they die pretty easily and feeling pleasure, not pain.”
I lift an eyebrow at that. “It’s a good thing you aren’t an elder then. You’d probably be applauded, and still on your hunger strike. Speaking of which…”
“Yeah, yeah,” she says, and she begins retreating. “I’ll go hit up the table now.”
As she leaves, I realize that she has a confidence with me that she doesn’t have with him, and it helps. I wonder if I just have to wait this out for a little while until she comes out of this fairytale. Whatever happens, I’ll be here, waiting for her on the other side.
Chapter Fifteen: Kylie
There’s something that makes the work day go by quicker, knowing that Rob is on the other side of it. He even smiles when he gives me his coffee order. I’m over the moon. I feel like I haven’t felt in years, and it’s all because of him.
I’ve never been the type of girl who put her happiness in the hands of other people. I’m independent and find a way through everything on my own. But I can’t help the sheer joy at knowing that fantasies sometimes come true. Rob has proven that.
And I’m already craving him again. My body is thirsty for more of him, for his lips and his body and his cock. I want to feel him on me, and inside of me.
We act professional, and no one on set seems to suspect a thing. Except maybe for Brett.
This morning, I saw him cat
ch a glimpse of me holding Rob’s hand, and though we parted quickly, I made an effort to talk to him and see what his observations were.
He was cagey. It was weird. And he disappeared for a while into his trailer. I’m almost self-conscious about the whole thing, but when I have those moments during the day, I turn my attention to Rob in his zone, remember his lips on mine, and the feeling dissipates.
I have the right to be selfish once every so often. I can’t be worried about the fragile egos of porn stars.
During lunch, I’m back to watching the camera, but this time Rob joins me. He has a plate with him, sandwich on it, and hands it off. “No more passing out,” he says.
I can’t help but smile from my place sitting on the bed. “No more.” I take the plate from him and take a bite. Two meals in a day, and a boyfriend? I’m on a roll. “Thank you.”
He reaches forward to brush some mustard from the corner of my mouth, and he sucks it from his thumb. “I want you to know that you’re doing a great job, kid.”
“Inside the bedroom or out?” My eyes are lit with amusement.
“Both.” He glances outside of the room to make sure no one is there, then dips his head in and catches my lips with his in a quick kiss. “God, I wish I could fuck you right now.”
I set the paper plate on the bed, worried I’ll drop it. Rob tends to make me weak at all turns. “You could, if you wanted.”
Delight dances in his eyes for a few moments, but he refuses with another quick kiss. “I’ve got some asses to crawl up and angles to set. Later?”
I nod. “Good enough.”
“I don’t know how long I’ll be stuck here tonight, but I’ll come over when I can.”
“Take your time.”
Rob has a process, and his devotion to this film is admirable. The last thing I’m going to do is keep him from it, even if my body wants him now completely. He’s made me voracious. I’ve never been like this before.
He squeezes my shoulder briefly before he backs up towards the door. “Eat that sandwich,” he says, and he turns to leave.
I pick back up the plate and nibble as I wait for the rest of the crew to return from lunch and relieve me of my camera-watching duty. But suddenly, the job doesn’t seem quite so bad.
Chapter Sixteen: Brett
It’s the second time we’re trying to film the sex scene. Production had been halted completely yesterday. It was the first time I’d ever seen Rob leave set early, taking Kylie home. We have a lot to catch up on.
It’s almost a complete repeat of yesterday, except now, Rob and Kylie are exchanging glances. Instead of being drunk, Melanie is hungover.
At least it seems to be taking care of some of her nerves. She doesn’t give a shit about being mostly naked in front of a crew anymore; her robe is hanging partially open, and her tits are fairly visible. She’s wearing the pasties again, but one of them is off center and her areola is in partial view.
No one cares.
They’re too busy setting up the camera, or brushing up on our hair and makeup. I try to keep my attention away from the new happy couple.
There are crumbs on the bed. I task myself with brushing them away.
It plays out a lot like yesterday, just in slow motion. Melanie takes off her robe, I take off mine. I rise. The crew gets the camera rolling, sound rolling, and Rob calls action.
Today, however, Melanie has lost some of that sexy spark she had yesterday. She was toying with me before. She was playful and slurred. Now, she looks like she’d rather be anywhere but here. She looks sick.
I kiss her, and all I taste is toothpaste and mouthwash. She’s trying too hard to cover the taste of stale alcohol from her breath. I want to tell her that it’s okay, we’ve all been there, but I don’t. I pull back to look at her, and her eyes are red and hazy.
And suddenly, Rob calls for the camera to cut. I glance back at him as the wardrobe mistress hands back our robes. He looks bewildered. “Melanie. Honey. What’s going on with you?”
Melanie sniffs once and digs her palm into her eye, smudging some of her eyeliner. “I’m sorry, I’m just…”
“You’re out of it. I see that. Can you rally for me? What do you need? Coffee? Tea? Hair of the dog?”
She looks apologetic. “No, I just… I don’t know, I guess I’m not feeling sexy right now.”
Rob pauses, nostrils flaring. I can see the thought going through his head now. Why didn’t you say this before I dragged in the whole fucking crew?
He’s looking at her for a long moment before he finally gives a little motion. “Come here for a second.” She obeys, following Rob behind the camera to look at the video display. Rob gives Kylie a small tap on the shoulder. “Go into frame for me, kid.”
It’s Kylie’s turn to look surprised. “What?”
I don’t like where this is going.
Rob insists, “Just get into frame, on the bed. I want to show Melanie the placement we did the other day.”
I’m practically fuming as Kylie goes, climbing high onto the bed. She lies on her back, her legs partially spread, pushed up onto her elbows, as Rob motions to the monitor. “See that? How she’s got that body language? That’s enough. Just body language. At least give me that. Here… Brett, go through the blocking.”
I pause. Did he just ask me to climb on top of Kylie? Kylie doesn’t look thrilled by the prospect, but gives me a look with raised eyebrows. Just do it. I take in a slow breath and obey, slowly crawling onto the bed over her. I can’t see Rob and Melanie from this angle, so I wonder how intently they’re actually watching.
I settle between Kylie’s legs, looking down at her, and murmur, “Don’t worry, I’m not going to kiss you.”
She snorts a small laugh, responding, “Good, because this is weird enough.”
I stay here, frozen between her legs, thinking about anything else that I can, but my body responds anyway. I feel a slight wave of arousal that threatens to stiffen my cock, and it’s all from the depth of Kylie’s eyes. We’re looking at each other, really looking, and it’s the most intimate I’ve gotten with a woman in a long time.
Kylie seems to feel it, too. I see a slight flush across her cheeks, I see her breath pick up. My hair is mercifully falling so it blocks my face from the rest of the crew. It would have been so obvious what I was thinking and feeling otherwise. I am beyond aroused, but it’s so much more than physical.
I’m coping with this new feeling when I hear Rob’s voice calling out, “Brett! That’s good, you can get up.”
I do. I climb back and pull my robe in tighter, just in case my reaction has been obvious. Kylie pushes up from the bed, too, crawling off, and Melanie takes her place, resuming the position Kylie was in. Yes, it does open Melanie up. It makes her look more appealing.
It reminds me so much of Kylie.
I watch as Kylie takes her place next to Rob, and he leans in to murmur something to her. A smile grows on her lips, and he looks pleased by it. I don’t realize my jaw is set until Keith clears his throat and gives me a pointed look. Danger, Will Robinson, danger.
Yes, this whole thing is dangerous. Rob and Kylie on one side, and me on the other side of the wall, stuck wanting what I don’t have. I had a sample of what it was like, small as it was, and all it’s done has made me ravenous for more.
I remind myself to be professional and turn my attention back to Melanie, my reluctant scene partner. She seems to have some of her wits about her, and as Rob orders the camera to reset, she says, “Thank you for getting me home safely last night.”
I’m standing at the foot of the bed, but I lean in a little. “Don’t thank me for that. I just did what anyone else would.”
“Not anyone else. Very few people would do that.”
I shrug. It’s true, but I don’t need to lecture her on things she already knows. “We all need a little help every now and then.”
Once more, Rob’s voice punctuates the room. “Are we r
eady?”
I look back behind me, and Kylie is back to looking at Rob again, practically drooling over him. I don’t want to focus on this anymore. “Yeah.”
When action is called this time, I put all of my remaining energy into the scene, channeling my desire for Kylie into desire for Melanie. It seems to work. We finish the scene in three takes. Just like that, the nightmare is over. Kylie is back to menial tasks on set, and I’m back to avoidance. It seems to be the only way to cope.
Chapter Seventeen: Kylie
It’s late. I’ve stuck around on set for longer than was needed, but it’s mainly because I’m hoping Rob will finish and we can leave together. Part of me is secretly worried that this was all some one-night-stand dream and he’ll forget about me the second I’ve left.
He’s pouring over the dailies in the living room when I find him, and I sit next to him, my head resting on his shoulder. “Did everyone else go home?”
“Mmhm.” He kisses the top of my head in acknowledgement, even though his eyes don’t leave the screen.
I catch a glimpse of skin, hear a soft moan, and avert my eyes out of near respect. I’ve already watched Brett get off before on tape, I don’t need to do it again, faked for an audience.
“I think it’s coming together,” Rob mutters, but it doesn’t seem to be directed towards anyone in particular.
He’s not wrong. I was surprised by how well the scene went today. The way it was filmed seemed tasteful. I should have trusted Rob from the beginning. He knows what he’s doing. He knows himself as a filmmaker. He’s one of the best in the industry, and this proves why.
I don’t want to interrupt his process, so I remain relatively silent, only answering with a, “Yeah,” and a small kiss to his shoulder.
He pauses the dailies and gives me a look, his attention on me for the first time since I got here. “You can go home if you want.”
I bring my head up and look at him, eyebrows knitting slightly. “I don’t mind. Unless you want me to go.”
Rob’s expression softens at that, and he leans in to lay a kiss to my lips, soft and sweet. “You don’t need to. I’m happy to have you here.” I’m relieved, until he adds, “Just maybe give me a few to review this on my own.”