I feel my phone buzz in my pocket so I grab it, seeing that Cassie is calling me. I hit ignore and quickly text her that I’ll call her as soon as this meeting is over.
“Any questions?” the woman asks, putting her clipboard down at her side and scanning her eyes across our group. “No? Good. You all have an appointment to get fitted for a suit, since you are going to be visible and on camera.”
She gives each of us her business card and a copy of our itinerary for the next few days. We’re here to look after the girls, but there is one girl that I won’t be able to keep my eyes off of.
I say goodbye to the men I’m going to be working alongside as I see Cynthia coming over to me from the corner of my eye.
“Hello Jason,” she says, meeting me by the edge of the stage. “Good to see you again. I was hoping I could get a quote from you.”
“A quote about what?” I ask, slightly bemused. I wish I could give this woman a piece of my mind, but in deference to Cassie’s wishes, I’ll stay polite and cordial toward her even though she doesn’t deserve it.
“A quote about anything,” she shrugs, “it’s up to you.”
“I don’t know,” I say, “I’m happy to be here. How about that?”
“Oh come on Jason, give me something better than that. How about something about how excited you are for the talent portion of the competition.”
The truth is that I’m not all that familiar with the different parts of the contest. I guess I’m vaguely aware that each of the girls has to perform some kind of talent - baton twirling? Tap dancing, maybe - I never really gave it much thought before.
“Yeah,” I nod, “that. Use that as a quote. I’m excited for the talent portion.”
“Come on Jason, give me something better than that.”
“Fine,” I say, growing impatient. I pull my phone out of my pocket and pull up Cassie’s number. “I can’t wait to see what these girls have to offer. They’re all such beautiful young women, but they’re also smart, talented and capable. Good enough?”
“Perfect,” she says, snapping her notebook closed and slipping it into her purse. “Thanks, Jason.”
She starts away from me and looks back over her shoulder as I wave goodbye and start to call Cassie.
“Hey!” Cassie answers brightly, “what’s up?”
“I just finished up at my orientation,” I say, “what are you doing?”
She pauses for a moment before responding. That’s something she does when she doesn’t want to answer.
“I’m practicing my talent,” she says sheepishly.
“Oh?” I say, pushing my hair away from my face. “I was just talking to Cynthia about the talent portion.”
Making my way backstage, I weave through groups of girls sitting in front of big mirrors doing each other’s hair, some of them toiling away at musical instruments or shimmying into leotards. For a moment I think I shouldn’t be here seeing the girls get into character, but then I remind myself with a shake of my head that I’m supposed to be here.
It’s so different from being security for a band. Bands are rowdy. You don’t know what the hell to expect, and the girls are all trying to get backstage. Here, the girls are already backstage and there aren’t many men around. I like it like this. It’s refreshing.
And if the worst behavior I have to be on the lookout for is a girl dancing on a table or barfing into a garbage can, then this should be a piece of cake.
“Yeah,” Cassie replies as I push an exit door open, leaning against its big metal bar. “Practicing my talent.”
“And what is your talent, baby?” I ask. It’s still the morning, and I haven’t had a morning where I wasn’t a little groggy from the night before in a long damn time. It feels really good to have the sun beat down on my shoulders and feel clarity for the first time in a long while.
“Guess,” she says with a smile in her voice. “You’ll be able to get it.”
“Huh,” I say, walking across the boardwalk to the beach. The sand is dotted with colorful, big umbrellas with families congregating under them, trying to get out of the stifling heat of the sun. There’s a few girls sunbathing on their bellies with their bikini tops undone and their boyfriends smearing sunscreen on their backs.
“Being pretty?” I say, taking a seat on a bench facing the ocean.
“No, Jason,” she says, “that’s not a talent. Try again.”
“It’s one of your talents,” I say.
I consider Cassie Blake for a moment, turning her over in my mind. She’s always loved animals; maybe her talent is throwing a frisbee around and having a dog catch it. I saw that on TV a few days ago, and the dogs were really super cute and talented.
But no, that’s not it.
“Recorder? You could play a mean recorder back in the day.”
“No…”
“Singing?”
“One more guess,” she laughs.
I think back to what she was really interested in in high school. They say that the person you are around age eighteen through your early twenties is the “real” you, whatever the hell that means.
“Oh,” I say, a lightbulb going off, “it’s your skincare products, right?”
“Close,” she says, “that’s very close. It’s not that, but it comes from that.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s speaking. Selling.”
“I don’t get it.”
“Okay,” she says, “so, I have my products, but that’s only one part of it. My talent is public speaking, and coaching people, helping them feel like they can get up in front of people and sell anything.”
“Cassie,” I say, kicking my legs out in front of me and putting them on the metal bar on the edge of the boardwalk, “I have to admit that I still don’t really get it.”
“I guess it’s a little bit hard to explain,” she says, “so why don’t you come over and you can help me practice?”
“That sounds really fucking good,” I say, “I’ll be over soon.”
We end the call and I get up, stretching my arms out over my head. I can’t wait to see Cassie’s talent. I might not get it, but if she’s really that good at selling, I’m sure I’ll understand it soon enough.
14
Cassie
I have my assortment of skincare products in clear glass jars on the small table of my hotel suite’s kitchenette.
One is for moisture. This is the most important one. I researched the best natural moisturizers when I was developing this back in high school.
It was a pain in the freaking ass, I’ll say that much, but I continued with it because I really enjoyed it, despite what an annoyance it was. This was back before every person in a given household had internet on their personal devices. Up in rural New York, we only had one crappy dial-up internet connection on the one crappy computer in our dining room.
The thing was useless. I had to rely on library books to do my research, and I traveled to the small town of Woodstock to obtain the supplies I needed.
Another bottle contains a product for blemishes. Still another is for overall skin texture.
I probably could have done something more with these products. I probably could have worked a little bit harder, scaled up, obtained a license to produce them for commercial consumption instead of just gifting them to my friends and family, and sold them to small shops in my town.
I sigh and survey what I’ve laid out before me on the table. Jason’s on his way to help me practice my talent, but I’ve been giving this presentation for so long, helping people with their public speaking skills since I was in college, that I could do this presentation in my sleep.
A knock at the door makes my heart flutter.
I go over to the door and open it without checking the peephole. I’m too excited to see him.
“Hi babe,” he says casually, wrapping his big arms around my shoulders. “Alright, what are we working with here?”
I feel like I’m floating as we make our w
ay into the kitchenette, where Jason takes a seat at the table.
“This is my talent,” I say, “teaching people how to be confident speaking in front of others.”
“Intriguing,” Jason says, leaning back in his chair. I feel a spear of heat between my legs.
This is getting ridiculous.
“Thank you,” I say, nodding with a smile.
“So, public speaking. Does that mean you tell people to picture the audience in their underwear?” Jason smirks.
“You might be laughing, but yes, kind of, I do. It’s about taking the pressure off. Thinking about your audience as people who are equal to you. So, if you feel vulnerable, you need to think about the audience as vulnerable too. And there’s no better shortcut to that than imagining them in their skivvies.”
“Underpants,” he says, “the great equalizer.”
“Something like that.”
“So Cassie, let’s see you do it. Sell me on something.”
“Okay, so let’s see. Well, first of all, these are just props. The idea of being confident with public speaking is tied into believing that you have something to sell, like I was saying before on the phone. So, when you’re selling something, the idea is to make it seem like the person who is buying will be better off with what you’ve got to sell.”
“It helps if you’ve got a good product, which I know you do,” he says.
“Remember when I poured Elmer’s glue all over your hands and told you that it was an exfoliator?”
“Of course I remember,” he replies, “and of course I believed you. It seemed logical.”
Just because something seems logical doesn’t make it right.
Right now, what we’re doing seem logical, but my heart is still unsure whether it’s right.
“Okay,” I say, “so for the pageant, I am going to take a volunteer from the audience to come out on to the boardwalk with me and grab a passer-by.”
“A passer-by who has already been fully screened and approved, right?” he interjects.
“No,” I say, “it’s genuinely going to be a random person.”
“Fine,” he says incredulously, raising an eyebrow, “and then what?”
“Then I am going to just be myself. The secret, I believe, is not being overly aggressive. The secret is making a genuine connection with the person.”
I am aware that I sound a little bit ridiculous, but I swear this stuff works. More importantly, the whole point is not to really sell something, but to make the person you are instructing feel important - because they are. Everyone is. It’s just up to them to find it within him or herself and believe it.
“So sell me this stuff,” Jason says, eyeing the line of products on the table. “Make me buy.”
“Okay,” I say, flashing him a nervous smile, my belly flipping over. Maybe I’m not so good at this after all. “Sir, you have beautiful skin. But I have something that might keep it beautiful. I use it myself.”
“Ma’am,” he replies, standing up slowly and putting his hands on the table, “you don’t get a guy alone in your hotel room to sell him a bottle of moisturizer.”
“Jason,” I say thickly, my heart pounding, “am I going to show your my presentation or not?”
I looks me up and down, stepping around the table to my side, picks me up and puts my ass down on the table.
“Not.”
“But I have to practice!” I laugh, even though it isn’t true. He knows it. I know it.
We both know why he’s here.
He pushes my legs apart on the small table and grinds himself into me, picking me up as I wrap my legs around him.
The man of my damn dreams carries me over to the bathroom and flips the lights on.
“I have to go to this stupid suit fitting,” he says, “and I haven’t taken a shower yet today. I wanna get nice and fresh for the fitting. You care to join me?”
I watch in awe of his incredibly sexy body as he peels the shirt over his head, shedding it like a second skin. He unbuckles his belt and pushes his pants down so he’s standing naked in front of me, then walks over to the shower in the large bathroom.
I can’t help but look down at his ass when he walks away from me. He catches my glance in the mirror above the double vanity and winks as he keeps walking toward the shower.
Groaning, I bury my face in my hands and shake my head.
Jason Anderson has caught me staring at his ass. Of course.
I feel like that girl again, the girl with the crush. Because, really, that’s what I still am.
Jason turns the shower on and the bathroom quickly fills with steam, making the air between us hot and moist. I always hated that word - moist - but I suddenly like it. I watch as he steps toward me and takes my face in his hands, kissing me as though he possesses all of the confidence in the world.
When we signed that document, I didn’t know what I was getting into - and how could I have? This is thoroughly foreign territory, of course. And when I told him we had to act like that first night at the hotel never happened, I was guarding my heart.
But I can’t say no to him. I can’t help myself when I see him with his shirt off, and then when his hands begin to roam my body. I’ve just wanted this for too damn long, and even if this is just a fling for him, I have to be okay with it. I have to be okay with accepting the possibility of just going back to being friends after this.
Because I have no other option.
And I couldn’t say no to him right now. I don’t want to. I want to scream yes all night long, beg him to take me over and over again.
Jason pushes me into the shower, pulling my robe off me and kicking it aside. He guides me under the steaming hot water, just approaching slightly too hot, making any doubt in my mind about the situation wash off my skin like silk falling from my shoulders on a warm summer evening.
Pinning me against the wall, he slides down my body, making a trail of kisses down my chest until he gets to my breasts. I feel my pussy becoming engorged with blood and so damn wet as he flicks his tongue and fingers against my nipples, making them rock-hard and soaked with the hot water pounding down on us.
I let out a low moan as he slides farther down my body, placing sweet, eager kisses on my belly. When he gets just above my pussy, he spreads me open, kissing my clit gently before snaking his tongue around it.
“Jason, that feels incredible,” I breathe. I am soaking wet, and all I want is for him to enter me, fill me up and make me feel so damn good - forget everything, and most of all, forget myself.
No - most of all, I need to forget that I don’t know how this whole thing is going to end.
He slips a finger inside me and swirls his tongue in fast circles against my clit, making the pressure inside me build so fast that I’m about to cum already.
“Jason, please fuck me,” I beg as he bends one of my legs and slips it over his shoulder. He puts his hand under my ass and squeezes, kneading my flesh as he eats me out.
I look down as he shakes his head, my hands grabbing onto him.
“Please?” I groan, my head falling back gently on the wall of the shower.
He just keeps licking and sucking my clit, pushing his finger in and out of my pussy firmly but gently.
God, is he really going to make me beg for his cock?
“Come on,” I groan, “gimme.”
“You can keep begging, baby,” he says with a chuckle, pulling his lips away from me, “but I’m not in the mood to give you my cock right now. I like to hear you beg, and I like the way you taste.”
He puts his lips back onto my pussy, kissing and licking my clit like he can’t get enough of it. I lace my fingers through his hair, and even though I want his cock right now, I could get used to this, too.
Fuck.
No - don’t get used to this, Cass. Don’t.
“Please,” I sigh again, unable to control my words, unable to control my thoughts. “Jason, please...I need it.”
He pulls away from me softly and
I watch as he smiles up at me, sending a dull ache through my heart. I feel myself clench up on the insides, my belly turning over with everything I want to say to him right now.
And he keeps going, bringing me so damn fast to the point of no return - I cry out, the orgasm rolling through my body like crashing, crushing heat through my core, my limbs. He doesn’t stop or even slow down, and I pant hard and crush myself against him, forgetting myself completely.
I nearly forget where I am, but I know who’s here with me.
Jason kisses my belly as he moves up, caging me against the wall of the shower as he makes his way up my body.
“Okay,” he says, kissing me on the cheek, “now stop distracting me. I have to take a shower.”
He smirks and runs his hands through my hair, and I collapse against his chest, throw my arms around his neck, and can’t stop smiling.
I feel like I’ve been hit with a truck of emotion. In a good way, if that makes any sense. It’s as though I’ve been run over in the middle of the road, and I’m just laying here, looking up at the sky, unable to move. I don’t know what’s going to happen to me, but when Jason kisses my cheek and squeezes some shower gel into a loofah and looks back at me like he feels totally comfortable with me being here, I feel my breath hitch deep inside my throat.
Don’t get used to this, Cass.
Don’t.
“Hey, Cass?” Jason says, scrubbing the loofah against his back. “I wanted to ask you something.”
I watch him as he turns slightly, tipping his chin over his shoulder. His lips are so damn kissable, and the way he’s looking at me right now is making me melt inside.
“What is it?” I ask, taking a step forward and putting my arms around his waist.
I don’t know what’s gotten into me. I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t resist myself. I lean my head against the back of his big, broad shoulders, the steam rising around us as the hot water falls down on us, and I close my eyes.
I don’t know what to feel. I don’t know what to think. This all feels too damn real.
“You know how they have that gala thing tomorrow night?” he says casually.
Second Chance Bride: A Fake Fiancee Romance Page 9