19. Noah
Noah
“Clearly, Amy’s not showing up.” Omen tosses his phone onto the glass display case of the record store.
“Why did you have to mess around with her?” A drawn out raspy scrape fills the air as Tony and Vince lug in a large strip of black tarp through the emergency exits on the other side of the store.
“She legit told me she doesn’t want to be near you.
” I tap my fingers on the glass, already dreading the cleanup tonight.
Any second now, they’re going to drag in buckets of smooth, slick mud. “Noah! We are fucked.”
“We can find another girl to shoot the video with us.”
“She’s the only one who really fits the description.” Omen runs a hand through his uncombed hair.
“Give her another week and she’ll be obsessed with someone else. You know how she is.”
“We don’t have another week for this video.”
“Okay, we can think of something else. We are already going to have one hell of a mess after finishing this.”
“The last thing we need is some groupie who makes shrines of your baby pictures strutting around with tits hanging out.”
He’s right. If I come across another post of someone digging up pictures of me, I might vomit. I’m tired of seeing myself online, and of a variety of women wanting some sort of sexual interaction with me.
“Noah, we aren’t gonna find a girl with dark hair, blue eyes, and pale skin.” He points the qualities out on each finger before taking a bite. “She was perfect.”
“I get it. You want Snow White with an apple, but... wait, I have an...”
He raises a hand and cuts me off. I tap my foot on the old carpet, pressing my lips together. “I got my hands on a green python. We get him for two hours for the shoot. He’s going to be here within forty-five minutes.”
“Badgering me isn’t going to change the fact she sucked on my nuts and I ended it.”
The sun will start setting in an hour, and we planned on filming parts of the video right at sunset. I closed the store early for this, in order to make this music video, and we are running behind, and who we need here is a no-show.
“Do you know anyone who could show up here in thirty minutes that would be okay with this?”
“Yes, let me make a call.” I step out the front door and lean against the display windows littered with old tape and flyers for local bands and concerts.
The fresh air fills my lungs as I check my phone and dial her number. It rings a few times before there's a shuffle. “Hi,” she says sweetly. “Long time no see.”
“Hey, Trouble, how are you doing?” I ask, watching cars drive by, and tourists glancing inside the store before strolling off.
“I’m okay. Just finished watching a movie with Payton. What are you up to?”
“I wanted to see if you could help me with a project?” I ask.
There’s a pause. “Oh... well, you haven’t really messaged me. So it depends... What kind of project?”
“A music video, but it’s up to you. I don’t want to ask you to do anything you might be uncomfortable with.”
“Sure, where do I meet you?”
“The record store.”
“Give me twenty minutes.” She hangs up.
I stand outside with arms crossed, watching each car pass by. When a silver car emerges around the corner, my heart speeds up, and I have to wipe my face of sweat skating down my temples. That one isn’t hers as it makes a right turn.
Then, a white muscle car revs its engine as it cruises down the street. The window rolls down as a stocky blond glares straight at me before hacking and spitting. A hot foam wad of spit lands near my feet. I stare back at him with no expression before he flashes me a middle finger and speeds off.
That’s California for you. I ignore him and continue checking the time on my phone. Impatient because each time I glance back at my screen, barely a minute passes. Then I spotted the Civic parallel parking on the opposite side of the street. My eyes locked on her.
As she steps out, shutting the door behind her, my breath hitches. Her dark curls tumble down her shoulders, shimmering in the sunlight. Those grey eyes glue onto me like a predator, and she's smiling, chewing on her gum.
I’m daydreaming as she gets closer, and all I want to do is run a hand across those high cheekbones and kiss her dimples that cave in as she smiles.
Her shorts hug her curves, and her breasts bounce with each step.
She’s wrapped a cord around my neck, and my heart is in trouble.
Her hot-pink nails scream at me. I’m in danger, my head goes fuzzy as she clenches on her purse, and what I wouldn’t give for her to dig those claws into my back.
“Hey you,” she pushes me on the shoulders playfully.
A stupid chuckle comes from my lips as I compose myself. “Hey... Uhh let me show you what we are doing.”
“Okay.” She seems hyped up, leaping between each step as we go inside the store.
I explain to her what we planned, and I watch the glimmer in her eyes shine as I tell her about the python we want to wrap around her shoulders. About her holding the apple. Once I tell her we want her top off and mainly naked and that we plan on drowning both of us in mud, her mouth gapes open.
“Wow.” She chuckles in between heaving in uneven breaths.
“We are putting a blindfold over you. No one is really going to recognize you. There might be one snapshot of zooming out of your eyes. We’ll see how it goes.
” I attempt to swallow, but it’s bricks in my throat.
“I also bought these.” I dig through a grocery bag, pulling out the black X pasties for her nipples.
She takes them into her hands, licking her rosy lips.
She blows out a shallow breath. “This will be fun.” She scrapes the tape off the box with a nail and asks, “So you were going to have another girl do this?”
“Yeah,” I say, and she rolls her eyes subtly. A tight band squeezes my chest. “She’s a bit complicated.”
Charlie’s quiet, ripping the box open and pulling out the pasties. Her jaw clenches, the muscles twitching, and my ears ring, a high-pitched whine heightens the silence between us. “I’ll go change.” She struts off to the bathroom and my head fills with static.
When she emerges from the bathroom, she’s only wearing her silky underwear. Her arms are pinned to her chest, bunching up her breasts. My mind goes blank, my vision blurring. I shouldn’t be this stupidly nervous. I massage my face with both hands to wipe away the tightness in my chest.
The guys finished setting up the set. “We finished getting some shots outside.” Tony comes into the store, adjusting the smoke machines pooling out a white mist casting an eerie glow on the black backdrop.
Charlie takes the stage, a vibrant green python draped across her shoulders.
It seems rather relaxed as it flicks its tongue out.
Tony gives her some instructions, such as not smiling, as he does a few quick shots.
Then he hands her a crimson apple, having her pretend to take a bite almost two dozen times, before he tells her to actually take one.
It took almost forty minutes to get the damn shot.
The snake wouldn’t stop moving. It was all muscle and instinct, constantly trying to slip away. Even the snake got a break. Fifteen minutes of freedom before we reset everything.
Charlie sat off to the side, wrapped in a towel, her hair sticking to the back of her neck.
She watched quietly while Tony took a few shots of me alone, running through the song again and again, the mic stand being my only prop.
My voice felt like sandpaper by the time he finally said, “Alright. Let’s bring her back in. ”
The track loops again. The same haunting melody, the same pulse of drums vibrating in my chest.
Tony positions us carefully. He tells me where to stand, where to look, how close to get. Then he reaches out, grabs my wrist, and guides my hand to Charlie’s shoulder.
She’s blindfolded, standing perfectly still. Her skin is warm beneath my fingertips.
I brush my fingers down her upper arms, slowly, soaking in how soft she is. Her breath hitches, the air between us thickening by the second. The mic’s still on, the track bleeding into the speakers, but all I hear is the sound of her breathing, it’s shallow, trembling, uneven.
I lean in, close enough that my mouth grazes the shell of her ear as I sing. The lyrics roll off my tongue like a confession. Goosebumps rise along her skin. Her lips part. A small sound slips from her throat. It’s not quite a moan, not quite a breath, but it hits me like gasoline on fire.
I move behind her, sliding my hands across her chest, feeling the thrum of her heartbeat under my palms. Her pulse races, wild and frantic, like she’s fighting not to lean into me.
I’m singing, but the words are blurring and I’m losing them and I think I’m losing myself.
My mouth drifts to her neck. Her skin smells faintly of vanilla and nerves.
When I press my lips to the crease of her throat, she trembles.
When I bite, she whimpers. My hands are steady, but my body isn’t.
Blood rushes south, and my chest tightens, and my dick is granite with the kind of hunger I can’t let her see.
I should pull away. I should remember the cameras, the crew, the reason we’re here.
But all I can think about is how her body feels against mine, how close we are, how easy it would be to lose every bit of self-control I have left.
When my hands slide up and curve gently around the base of her neck, she gasps. It’s barely audible over the music, but I feel it, the vibration of it under my palms, the shiver that runs down her spine. She’s shaking. And I’m falling apart.
As I sing into the hollow of her throat, every note tastes like sin.
I can already imagine how she’d sound, and what she’d look like under me on a bed of cotton.
The devil’s louder in my head than God right now.
If Charlie asked me to sleep with her, if she even whispered the word please... I know I’d give in.
We end up running through the song three times before Tony signals for the mud.