by Luke Young
“Okay,” Jim replied.
“And be as explicit as you want,” the producer said with a wink. “We’ll bleep or edit out anything that we can’t air.”
“All right.”
Victoria put her hand on Jim’s shoulder. “Oh, he can be very explicit when he wants to be.”
All three shared a naughty smile.
Ten minutes later, Victoria wore just about the sexiest black string bikini ever as one camera crew filmed her by the pool while another stayed in the house capturing Jim’s comments about his lovely wife. Steve stood out of frame prompting the conversation and driving it precisely where he wanted it to go.
For the next week everything went smoothly with Kaylie occupied by Miss Perfect Nanny, Jim logging more time at home in front of the camera and Victoria meeting with the pretend clients the producers set up. Victoria had to admit that the stories were turning out to be quite compelling. With four episodes in the can, the production went into the home stretch to shoot four more before the season premier scheduled six weeks out.
48
Victoria and Jim’s alarm blared at the godforsaken time of 4:30 am for what was to be the reality show’s biggest day of shooting so far. With Kaylie not needed for the day, she’d spent the night over at Jillian and Brian’s so she wouldn’t have to get up so early. Victoria jumped in the shower first and groggily survived, barely maintaining a standing position, while Jim went to make the coffee. An hour later the crew arrived and Victoria headed over to make-up. By seven the production was in full swing with the sex therapist meeting with several clients most of whom were actors pretending to have serious and or comical issues with which to be dealt.
The production broke for lunch and when it continued, Victoria returned to her office for her next client. When the woman walked in, Victoria thought she looked familiar, but she couldn’t quite place her. Just as she was searching her memory, Jim was sitting down for an interview outside by the pool.
Seated across from him, the interviewer asked, “So what’s it like being married to a sex therapist?”
Jim chuckled. “Well, it’s never dull that’s for sure. She’s the most interesting woman I’ve ever met.”
“Well, I think we’re all coming to know that. We imagine that she challenges you in the bedroom. What can you tell us about your sex life?”
“Um, I…” Jim stammered, looking into the camera. “We have a fairly active sex life. I mean, even with a young daughter we still find time for each other.”
Steve stepped from behind the monitor and yelled, “Cut! Can we adjust the screens? I’m getting way too much glare.”
Just as a production assistant, carrying a large cup of coffee, rushed toward the table a lighting technician bolted into action. The two collided near Jim sending the tepid coffee directly on the interviewee’s head. He gasped, his mouth opening wide with cream filled coffee soaking his hair, his face and dripping down his white polo shirt.
The production assistant apologized for a good thirty seconds while two members of the crew rushed over to assist in the clean-up.
Jim stood, shook the coffee off his hands and accepted a towel. “It’s okay. I smell like a barista, but I think I’ll survive.”
Frowning, Steve stood by scolding both the production assistant and tech then headed over to Jim. “I’m so sorry about this. It’s late. I think we’re going to break for lunch. We’ll pick back up this afternoon.”
“Okay, that’s fine,” Jim replied. “I think I could use a shower.”
“Thanks for being such a good sport.” Steve patted him on the back. As Jim was walking away, he added. “Victoria mentioned she wanted to see you when we broke. We’ll let her know you’re free.”
“Great.” Jim headed into the house.
Steve made eye contact with Darrius and they shared an evil smile. Once Jim disappeared through the door, the two headed in as well.
A few minutes later, Steve, Darrius, a production assistant, along with Michelle stood inside the master bedroom just outside the partially opened bathroom door. Michelle now without glasses and with her hair no longer in a bun wasn’t wearing a thing. She looked spectacular, her body nearly flawless and perfect hidden under those conservative clothes for so, so long. The production assistant held a miniature wireless camera above the door.
Watching on a portable device, Steve had a clear but high angle view of Jim in the large open air shower as he rinsed his face. The moment Steve spotted him reach for the shampoo bottle he pointed to little miss perfect tits and mouthed, ‘Go!’
Springing into action, she slipped through the door and made her way behind Jim as he worked his hair into a lather. The production assistant held the camera steady capturing the moment just as Michelle wrapped her arms around Jim’s waist.
Stunned, he opened his eyes slightly then grimaced crying out in pain when the suds stung him. “Victoria!”
Pressing her naked body against his back, Michelle snaked her hand down his stomach. She took hold of his penis as he held his head under the shower spray, rubbing his eyes.
“Victoria, you’re crazy.” He swatted one hand back at her.
She kissed his back and slipped one hand between his legs, taking gentle hold of his balls as she began slowly stroking his swiftly growing erection.
“Oh, fuck…” He rubbed his eyes once more then leaned forward, spreading his legs wide, resting his elbows on the tile wall.
Michelle glanced back to see Steve, poking his head around the door, and she smiled. Returning her attention to Jim, she stroked his now fully engorged cock.
Jim bent over further as Michelle stroked him harder and faster. She slipped her fingers behind his balls and toyed with him there as his body trembled, shower spray shooting all over her as it bounced off of his back.
Jim moaned and groaned as the camera captured a wide angle shot of the shower coupling, catching the tensing of his muscles along with his desperate cries for release. Suddenly it came, fast and hard. He let loose with a loud gasp as he rose up on his tiptoes, moaning loudly.
Michelle kept on milking him as he pressed his cheek to the tile, his mouth opened wide, gasping for his next breath.
Steve retreated into the bedroom as Michelle slipped from the shower and grabbed a towel. Jim turned around, his eyes slits as he struggled to regain his faculties. “Michelle?”
She turned to look at him, drying her breasts. “Yes, Jim.”
“What the fuck!” He reached for a towel and quickly secured it around his waist with his eyes now bugging out of his head. “What are you doing!”
“I’ve seen the way you look at me, Jim.” She said bending forward languidly, drying off her legs.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
Dropping the towel, she took a step closer to him, running her hands down her stomach and resting them just above her shaved pussy. “I knew you wanted it the moment I saw you.”
“How’d you get in here?”
“Don’t worry. I was careful. Everyone’s at craft services.” She placed her hand on his chest, her gaze dipping down to his towel. “I could finish you off again, but in a better way.”
“Get the hell out of here now!”
“Really?”
“Yes, I’m serious!”
She cocked her head, gripping his towel just under his belly button. “But you still look a little hard under there. I could check it out for you.”
He backed away, cringing. “Get out!”
“Fine.” She replied, insulted. Turning on her heels, she slipped out the door, pulling it closed.
Set up in the bedroom, the production assistant recorded Michelle’s grinning exit then Steve slipped a robe over her shoulders and they all rushed away.
Ripping the door open, Jim stepped into the bedroom to find it empty. He made his way through the room, then poked his head out their bedroom door to find the house empty as well. He turned around, closed the door, dropped his head into his hands and s
ighed.
49
Sitting on the edge of the bed now fully dressed, Jim closed his eyes. His thoughts were racing. Did he lead Michelle on? Could he have possibly done something to encourage what had just happened. Did anyone see her slipping out the bedroom? Should he tell Victoria?
He had to tell Victoria.
There was no way around it.
He had to get Michelle out of their house. That he definitely had to do and right now.
He headed out to the craft services tent, passing a dozen crew members and rushed straight to Steve. The buff producer looked up from his plate of veggies and narrowed his eyes. “Jim, you okay?”
“Not exactly.”
“What is it?” Steve slid a carrot into his mouth and chomped down on it.
Glancing at the crew nearby, Jim frowned. “Can we talk in private?”
“Sure. Sure.” Steve motioned for Jim to follow as he headed across the lawn and into the house.
Leaning against the kitchen counter, Steve asked. “So what’s up.”
“It’s Michelle.”
“Isn’t she great?” Shaking his head, Steve lifted his eyebrows. “And so fucking hot, am I right?”
“She’s… ” Jim exhaled sharply, rubbing his head. “Look, she needs to go. We need to find someone else.”
“What? Why?” Steve replied, stunned.
“She just… ” Jim added softly, “… sexually assaulted me in the bathroom.”
Steve’s expression was an odd combination of shock and disbelief. “What the hell are you talking about?”
The victim glanced around to be sure no one was within earshot then whispered, “She came in when I was showering and jerked me off.”
“What?” Steve lifted his hands up. “Why didn’t you stop her?”
“I didn’t know it was her.”
“Wait, that makes no sense.”
Jim let out an exasperated breath. “Remember when you guys interviewed us about our sex life weeks ago?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“We told you about that thing Victoria does to me in the shower where I’m facing the wall and we pretend it’s someone else?”
“Oh my God.” Steve scoffed. “No way. She did that to you?”
“Yeah.” Jim widened his eyes. “And I want her out of here now!”
“Oh, definitely. We have a strict zero tolerance policy on sexual harassment.”
“Good.” Jim shook his head. “How the hell do you think she knew about that?”
“Fuck.” Steve closed his eyes, rubbing his temple and sighing. “Oh, man I’m so sorry.”
“What?”
“Michelle asked to go through some of the background material the other day. Shit.” The producer pressed his lips together into a frown. “So we let her watch the tapes.”
“I need to tell Victoria, right now.”
“Wait, no.” Steve placed his hand on his shoulder. “She’s with a client. And you know how stressed she’s been about this whole thing lately.”
“I know. I know, but I can’t keep something like this from her.” Jim exhaled sharply, plopping down in a stool at the counter, holding his head in his hands.
“Hey buddy. I hear you.” Steve joined him at the counter. “It was just a hand job, right?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s not like she blew you or something. Come on, is a hand job really cheating?” Raising his brows, Steve cocked his head.
Jim met his gaze, his brows knitted together. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure it’s cheating.”
“Yeah, maybe if you had known who’s hand it was, but come on. Look, Michelle is gone. I’ll take care of it right now. Did anyone else see you with her?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Look, I’ll talk to her and make sure she hasn’t told anyone and I’ll ask around to be sure no one knows a thing. We’ll get her to sign a non-disclosure and pay her to sneak away quietly. Victoria doesn’t have to know.”
“I don’t know.” Grimacing, Jim stared out the window. “I can’t keep this from her.”
“Listen, at least wait until the end of the shoot. We only have a couple episodes left to film before we wrap.”
Jim sighed, closing his eyes. “I’ll think about it.”
Rising to his feet, Steve gave him a thumbs up. “Good. I’ll get rid of Michelle right now. Don’t you worry. Why don’t you take the rest of the day off? Go to your club and hit some balls or something.”
“Wait, don’t you need me back out to finish up from earlier?”
“No, that can wait.” Steve waved his hand at him, shaking his head. “Go.”
After pausing a moment to think, Jim nodded. “All right.”
Fifty feet away in Victoria’s office, the sexy therapist sat behind her desk reviewing notes when Carrie appeared at the door. “We have your next client.”
“Great. I’m all set. Just finished reviewing her file.”
Two cameramen entered the room followed by a soundman and they quickly set up. Steve walked in next and after some preliminary shots, he motioned to Carrie who turned toward the hall. A middle aged, curvy woman entered the room. She had short, red hair and wore a pair of dark sunglasses.
Victoria motioned to the chair. “I’m Dr. Wilde. Please have a seat.”
“Nice to meet you,” the woman began as she sat. “I’m Rebecca Miller.”
“It’s good to meet you. I understand you had a falling out with your best friend over a man.”
“That’s right. I’m trying to reconnect with her and apologize. I don’t know where to begin or even…” the patient’s words trailed off into soft sobs.
Pulling a tissue from the box, Victoria extended it to her new client.
“Thank you.” Rebecca grabbed the tissue and after removing her sunglasses, dabbed it under her cheek.
“How long has it been since you’ve seen your friend?”
“Going on five years now.”
Victoria flipped through the notes pausing a moment then said, “This man was your friend’s…?”
“Her husband.”
“I see.”
“And we had an affair. It went on for almost a year.”
“And when did your friend discover this?”
Rebecca dabbed her eyes once more, sniffling. “Well, not until after he died.”
“Oh my. That must have been traumatic for her.”
“It was.”
Victoria’s eyes widened a bit as she cocked her head, studying her patient’s face. “How long had you been friends?”
“Since college. A long time,” Rebecca began. “Victoria, I came to apologize.”
The realization smacked Victoria in the face. This was the woman who slept with her late husband David more than six years earlier. She rose to her feet. “What the hell are you doing here?”
One of the cameramen stepped back to get a wider angle shot.
“I’m…” Rebecca glanced to Steve then returned to Victoria. “I’m here to apologize.”
Victoria glared at her producer. “What the hell is she doing here? Who set this up?”
“Look, she came to us.” Steve raised his hands up.
“I told you I never wanted to see you again.” Victoria turned to her ex-friend. “What part of that did you not understand?”
“I thought enough time has passed and—”
“You were wrong.” Realizing that the cameras were still rolling, Victoria put her hand up in front of her face. “Stop filming.”
“What?” Steve shook his head. “This is good stuff. Keep going. Roll with it. Let’s see where it goes.”
“Fuck you Steve.”
“Yeah, that’s it. Let it all out.” Steve smiled. “But have a seat.”
“Again, fuck you.” Victoria returned to her ex-friend, cringing. “And you… you changed your hair and what, got a face lift all to come here and ambush me?”
“No, I didn’t. I just wanted to see you.” Rebecca dabbed her tears. �
��And I have something else to say.”
“I don’t want to hear it.” Sitting down, Victoria dropped her face into her hands.
“I believe that you killed your husband. I don’t believe he truly died from that brain tumor.”
“What?” The therapist looked up to her accuser, gasping.
“When no one was looking you pulled the plug.” Rebecca moved to the edge of her seat. “I don’t blame you for it. I know he was suffering. But I want you to admit it.”
“You’re crazy.” Victoria rose to her feet once again, pointing at her producer. “Turn these damn cameras off and get her the hell out of my office.”
“Keep rolling.” Steve waved his hand around.
“I’m serious.” Victoria shot him a deadly glare. “If you want to keep all your male parts intact, you’ll turn off the fucking cameras.”
“No, this is gold,” Steve said. “If you take a minute to calm down, you’ll see that—”
“Okay.” Victoria stomped toward the door. “If they won’t leave then I will.”
Grinning, Steve pointed to one of the cameramen and motioned toward the hall. He rushed after her with the soundman close behind as they chased Victoria through the lobby of the office, out the door, past the pool and into the house. When she reached her bedroom, she slammed the door and locked it.
Grabbing her phone, she sent Jim a text message and waited. After a minute with no reply, she sent another then followed that up with a phone call, leaving a voice mail. She sighed, sitting on the bed.
There was a knock at the door. Rising to her feet, she approached it. “Jim?”
“No, it’s Steve.”
“Go away Steve.”
“Look, please open the door. We need to talk about this.”
Turning against the door, she slumped back and exhaled deeply, gazing at her phone awaiting Jim’s reply.
There was a soft knock at the door. “Victoria, please.”
After taking a deep breath, she said, “Are the cameras rolling?”
“No.”
She unlocked the door, opened it a few inches then backed away, plopping down in a chair.