11. Chapter 11
11
Miles
Shit.
Shit, shit, shit.
Why? Why, when Honey told me what a forehead kiss would do, do I want to place my lips right where she doesn’t want them? It’s an innocent enough gesture, but I know that my reason for doing it is less so. I thought maybe an extra hour at the gym last night would help me work off the jitters. It didn’t. Not even a little bit. This is ridiculous. You won’t get far in porn if you fall for every performer you work with.
Standing here with her, with Honey Dee Vine, is about as close to a dream come true as I’ll ever have. The afternoon light reflects off of a few golden strands of her hair, the glow amplified by the coral color of the walls. There’s warmth in this room and it’s not just the color scheme. It’s her. She lights up the whole fucking space. She’s the sun and I'm a flower waiting to bloom in her presence.
A flower? Ok, sure. A flower.
“How do you want to start things?” she asks. “My tripod is the tallest I could find, so if you want to start with oral, we can get a good shot from above of you eating me out. If that’s ok to start.” Pink tinges her cheeks.
“Are you kidding?” I blurt. “If we didn’t have to get it all on camera, I’d have thrown you on the bed already to get between those thighs.” I worry I’ve just put my foot in my mouth until Honey laughs .
“Well, you get an A for enthusiasm.”
“Can I get extra credit, Miss Dee Vine?”
“Oh, we are definitely doing a teacher scene at some point.”
I clear my throat, bringing myself back to reality rather than allowing my mind to wander to thoughts of her in a tight button-down shirt, short pencil skirt, and thick-rimmed glasses with a ruler she can use to-
“I’ll take some closeup stuff of you on the bed.” My voice is strained, but if she notices, she doesn’t say anything.
Honey hands me her phone and I slip mine into my tripod, focusing it on the bed so I can get her whole body. I begin recording with her phone while she turns away and crawls up the bed from the end. It takes every ounce of focus not to let the phone drop and instead watch her luscious backside move away.
Keep your breathing under control, dumbass. I can’t be salivating for this woman while I film. How creepy would that be?
Honey slowly turns to sit, smiling seductively at the camera. I don’t hide my growing erection. It’s obvious beneath my shorts and her eyes twitch in one quick, singular downward motion before landing back on the camera lens. Her eyes are bright as she lifts a hand and curls a finger, beckoning for me to join her.
I lower the phone and move the camera up her legs, toward her belly and her breasts. She grabs one, massaging it, and bites her lip when she knows her face is in the shot.
“Come join me, baby,” she breathes, making my dick jump.
I have to fight the urge to take a deep breath with my face so close to the phone’s mic. Blood rushes to my growing erection while I pull back down her body and then mount the phone in her tripod, making sure that it has a view of the bed without the other one getting in the frame. Once it’s in place, I turn my eyes back on Honey and see the same fire that burns in me. She slowly scoots further up the bed to allow me room as I kneel between her legs. I gently trail one hand up her shin, over her knee, up her thigh. Goosebumps erupt along her skin beneath the tattoos scattered across her flesh. I can’t tell if the slight tremor is acting or if she’s as excited as I am.
“Lay back, baby.”
Is that my voice?
I’ve never heard it so full of longing. I slide her panties down and toss the offending garment to the side before spreading her legs a little further so I can settle myself between her thighs. I have the perfect view of her cunt, glistening with need .
“Lay back and close your eyes for me. I want you to feel every single thing I do to you. Every brush of my fingers.” I use two fingers to spread her glistening folds and she moans softly. “Every flick of my tongue.” She’s not prepared when I lean forward and briefly slide my tongue softly against her clit. “Every vibration as I moan against you.”
She said not to worry about her orgasm, but I intend to pull at least one from her pretty pussy. More if I can, but let’s start with one. She smells so fucking good and I want to really taste her, not just the passing flick of the tongue from a moment ago. First, I’m going to tease.
Propping myself up on one elbow, I use my free hand to draw a line down her center with one finger. Her hips move down, trying to tell me what she wants, following the path my digit just took.
“Ah, ah,” I breathe. “I want to take my time with this perfect cunt.” She shudders at the last word and I grin up at her, but she’s not looking down. Her eyes are closed just as I ordered. “Such a good girl, following instructions.”
She feels too good not to slide a finger in, wet and waiting for me, so that’s exactly what I do. As the last knuckle disappears, I hear another moan escape her throat. I wish I knew if it was real or fake, but I’m going to do my best to make sure it’s the former.
“Do you want another?” I ask, my voice coming out in a growl. “Use your words, babygirl.”
“Y-yes,” Honey whispers. “Yes, please.”
“Good girl.”
As I speak, I slide a second finger into her dripping slit and curl upward. The movement makes her hips squirm and I grin, working her harder. Honey’s thighs try to close around me, but I push on them with my elbows.
“Oh no, I want full access to you.”
“Please.”
I’m dying to taste her and her begging isn’t helping my resolve.
“Please what?” Maybe if I keep talking, I won’t want to use my mouth for other things.
“I need-” She gasps when I push a third finger inside, stretching her before I press my palm to her clit.
“Come on, baby, use your words.”
“Oh god, I need-” She ends with a moan instead of a fully formed word.
“I know what you need.” That’s it. My resolve has crumbled .
Sliding my fingers from her causes her to whimper, but I use both hands to spread her thighs wider. I don’t particularly care how visible her pussy is for the camera. I’m going to taste her. I’m going to drive her wild and I will make her come undone.
A moan rumbles in my chest as I lick her first before closing my mouth around her clit. She tastes so fucking good and my cock is dying to sink into her warmth, but not yet. Sucking and using my tongue to swirl around her is clearly doing something. I moan, sending those vibrations through her before licking her again. She writhes before me while I work, whimpering and moaning, lost for words.
“I can feel you shaking, baby,” I mutter against her. Her hand slams onto my head, fingers threading themselves into my hair.
“Oh, keep going,” she whines when I slip two fingers back inside.
I can feel her walls beginning to tighten. Just barely.
“You gonna come for me, baby?” I ask. I can hear the movement of her hair on the pillow as she nods, but her belly is blocking my view. “Come on my mouth. That’s it. Fucking come all over my face.”
I flatten my tongue against her clit before raking my teeth over her it. The sounds of pleasure rising from Honey get louder, her movements more frantic, until her body tenses. Her fingers dig into my scalp, but I don’t stop my onslaught. If she’s acting, she’s doing a damn good job and if she’s not, I’m not going to stop until she begs me to pull my mouth away. Her thighs overpower my grip and clamp around my head, holding me in place.
Every muscle tenses around my fingers. If she’s making noise, it’s muffled by her thighs on my ears. Even though I can’t hear her, I feel her begin to convulse, taking my head and fingers with her as she tries to roll over and away from me, but I still won’t stop.
Eventually, she relaxes, her thighs dropping to either side as she pants. Her hand falls from my hair. I can see her breasts heaving with the effort of bringing her breathing back under control. I remove my fingers and raise my head, my tongue wanting to stay on its new favorite meal. She’s not looking at me, her eyes still closed.
“I’m gonna ask you something that I think we’re both going to cut in editing.”
My own breathing is nearly as heavy as hers. I crawl up her body, trailing kisses over her belly, her breasts, up her throat, until I’m eye-to-eye with her. Her eyes flutter open and her gaze is just as fiery as ever.
“Don’t ask questions,” she pants, “you don’t want to know the answer to. ”
Liar. She knows it. I know it. I’m sure she has her reasons for answering that way, so I won’t argue. For now.
The taste of her arousal is heavy in my mouth and I’m going to share it with her before I fuck her senseless. I lean down and kiss her. Honey’s lips part to allow my tongue inside and she moans against me as she rolls her hips.
“Fuck me, Lance,” Honey breathes against my lips.
There’s no way I could last through a blowjob at this point. I yank my shorts down, pulling them off awkwardly before Honey’s hands fly to the bottom of my shirt, pushing it up. I allow her to remove it and toss it aside. My eyes meet hers while I line myself up with her wet and waiting entrance. She cups my face and nods.
I slide myself gently through her folds and my god, the feeling is divine. Dee Vine, if you will. I smirk down at her.
“Is this what you want, baby? You want this big cock to rearrange your guts?”
This is the worst dirty talk ever. There are so many other things I’d rather ask her, say to her, whisper to her. The phrases and words I choose now are meant for a porn audience. They're the things I know people expect to hear.
“Fuck yes,” she whines, closing her eyes and wiggling her hips as if in hopes it will make me move faster.
“Tell me,” I growl, lowering my face and running my nose along her jaw. Her hand slides through my hair as I do so. “Tell me you want me to fuck you.”
“Please, I want you to fuck me.”
I slap my cock against her clit a few times, causing her to twitch and moan beneath me. But then I return to the movement from before, sliding up and down instead of in. I want her absolutely wild with need before I fill her.
“Tell me you want to feel,” I breathe against her ear, “this thick cock sliding into your wet cunt.” Honey shivers and I grin, chuckling as I lower my face further and bury it in her hair.
“I n-need,” she gasps when I slap her with my cock again. “I need to f-feel your thick cock in m-m-my cunt.” The last word is a high-pitched whine as I thrust myself deep inside her in one go.
Raising my head, I stare down at her, holding still to allow her to get used to my size. Her eyes are shut tight, though I don’t see any indication that she’s in pain. I’ve seen what many of her co-stars are packing and even though I’m bigger than most in every sense of the word, she handles it well. Honey takes a moment to open her eyes, but when she does, I think I might die from the sheer lust staring back at me.
“Fuck.” The word comes out in a growl.
Propping myself on one arm, I use my free hand to slide up her thigh, over her belly with a squeeze, and then to her breast. I bring my forehead down to rest against hers as I pull out, almost all the way. Honey whimpers, but seconds later, I push myself back inside. My movements are slow as I roll my hips into her. My lips graze hers before I kiss her gently.
“That’s it, baby,” I breathe. “That’s it, you’re taking me so fucking well.”
Curses fall from my lips as I speed up, her wet heat spurring me on as she writhes and squirms beneath me. One hand still in my hair, Honey runs the other down my side before her nails dig into my ass cheek. I imagine the crescent-shaped marks they’re going to leave and I want her to mark me further.
“Pull my hair,” I whisper, still nose to nose, sharing air with her. I lift up and away from her, just a few inches, to watch her face before she acts.
Her grip tightens and when I moan, higher in pitch, I see a mischievous grin playing on her full lips. Her other hand releases my ass then slides up to my chest. She wraps her fingers around my throat, a question in those beautiful brown eyes. One nod is all it takes from me before her delicate fingers squeeze the sides.
“Just like that,” I choke out. “You’re so good to me, Honey. Fuck, you’re so good.”
I speed up, thrusting harder as I feel Honey’s fingers gripping me tighter. She doesn’t have the strength to cut off blood flow completely, but it has the desired effect.
“You want this cum inside you?” I grunt, knowing I won’t last much longer.
“Fuck yes,” she moans. I drop my hand between us to play with her clit.
“I want you to come with me, baby. Come with me.”
She’s tightening, her walls spasming around me. Her grip falters on my throat, but it doesn’t matter because I’m so close now. Panting and whimpering, I know I’m about to reach my own orgasm, but I desperately want her to get there first.
“Come all over this cock,” I growl. “Be a good girl and come all over this cock before I fill you up.”
Honey gasps, her eyes shut, and that’s when I feel her lose control. Her hand squeezes my throat again, nails digging in, as her pussy tries to milk everything from me .
“That’s a good girl.” I grunt every word before my breathing stops as my release floods her. “Fuck,” I hiss. “Good girl, good fucking girl.” I repeat the words as I convulse with pleasure.
With my last remaining ounce of strength, I roll off of her as I come down from the high. This woman might just be the death of me.
Without looking at the phones that are still recording, I have no idea how long we’ve been filming. I try to catch my breath, panting and sweaty, lying beside Honey who’s doing the same. Our hands are next to each other on the bed and every place our skin touches seems to bristle with electricity.
I should get up and get a final shot of the mess we’ve made as it leaks out of her, but I just cannot gather the strength. The way she drained me…
“Think we should stop the recording?” Honey asks with a laugh.
“Probably.” Neither of us moves to stand, though. I reach up to pat her thigh with a few light slaps and then leave my hand there, rubbing circles with my thumb. “That ok for a first scene?”
All Honey does is make the ok sign with her hand, letting loose a breathy chuckle. I match the sound as I roll onto my side to face her, propping myself up with one elbow, and holding my head in my hand. There’s a sheen of sweat covering her and a few wisps of hair are stuck to her temples. I didn’t have the patience to take off her bra, so her breasts are still half hidden beneath the lace. Her eyes are closed as she tries to control her breathing.
“What do you usually do after filming?” I want to reach out and trace her tattoos with one finger, but I resist.
Honey hums with a faint smile playing on her luscious lips.
“Usually get fast food and veg out for a couple of hours. Especially after an exhausting scene.”
“Would you let me join you?”
Her brown eyes snap open and find me. I hold her gaze and reach out, pushing my fingers over her stomach, around her waist. Then I pull myself closer to her. I’m not sure what’s driving me to react this way to her, what’s making me break my usual rules. I just hope I’m not crossing a line.
Honey’s throat works hard as she swallows, unanswering. I can’t read her expression, but she’s not pushing me away. My fingers press gently into her soft flesh and I try to hold her gaze, but when she catches her bottom lip between her teeth, I fail. My eyes drop to the movement and I’m lost .
My lips descend, crashing against hers in a kiss unlike any we shared in our scene just minutes ago. She reaches up to grip my neck, the other is caught between our bodies with my torso halfway on top of her. When Honey moans into the kiss and parts her lips, I slip my tongue inside. This definitely isn’t like the ones we shared previously. I can feel a sense of urgency in both of us that wasn’t there before. My fingers on her waist dig in further. I don’t want to spoil this, don’t want to ruin whatever spell has been cast on us. I don’t want to cheapen it, despite the fact that we’ve already fucked.
Honey pulls away just far enough to speak, her warm breath fanning my lips.
“I’m sorry, I can’t.”
“Fuck. No.” My response is immediate. “I’m sorry, Honey. I shouldn’t have-”
She shakes her head as I lift mine so that I can meet her eyes again.
“No, it’s just- I mean, I don’t- With co-stars, I don’t-” Her lips form a tight line and she falls silent.
I sit up next to her, allowing her space. The realization of what she’s trying to say is like a bucket of ice water. There’s a rock in my stomach, weighing me down. I force a smile.
“Let me, er, get my stuff.” I roll over to scoot off of the bed and begin searching for my shorts. I think I threw them off toward the door.
“Lance, I’m sorry.” She sounds so vulnerable, embarrassed, even.
Fuck.
I stand, shorts in hand, holding them over my waist as if I need shielding from her gaze. She’s sitting up now, cross-legged on the bed, completely at ease with her nakedness. I want to sink back onto the mattress with her. Crawl up her body, trailing kisses, tasting her, showing her just how much I want her , not Honey. I suppose addressing her by her legal name would be a first step, but I didn't pay attention to our release forms.
“I overstepped.” Understatement .
I have always made it a point to make sure co-stars feel comfortable. I know how much trust it takes. I’ve heard the horror stories of women in the industry, but like a fool, I pushed her boundaries. I thought I saw something that clearly isn’t there.
Honey bites her lip again and drops her gaze. Her hands are clasped in front of her.
“It’s just- When I work with someone new,” she says, not lifting her eyes, “I have to flip that switch in my brain, you know?” She looks at me again, begging me to understand. “I have to think ‘this person isn’t a viable romantic partner’, you know? Not that that’s what you were wanting or that I- I mean, I don’t even play off-camera with the people I work with. I try to keep things professional. ”
I feel one corner of my mouth lifting into a supportive smile. I wish I’d known. I wish I’d met her under different circumstances–in a bar, at a library, anywhere . I wish I could convince her to give me a chance.
I take a deep breath and smile, hoping it reaches my eyes.
“Got it. Professional from here on out.” I salute and then slip my shorts on before grabbing my shirt from where it landed on top of my backpack.
“We could still grab food,” she offers as if trying to placate a child after telling him he can’t play with his friends. “If you want.”
Her voice is so small. Does she think I’m mad at her for turning me down? It would break my heart if that’s the case.
“I want to,” I say as I move to stop my phone and take it off of the tripod. Oh great, I caught all of this awkwardness on film. “But I don’t want to push you. Rain check.” I’m still smiling, even though my eyes are on the tripod as I shorten it.
“Rain check,” Honey confirms. I see her nod out of the corner of my eye when I squat to pack up the tripod.
She turns and scoots to the far edge of the bed, bending over to open a drawer in the bedside table. She pulls out a package of wipes and, realizing what she intends to do, I turn away. I should’ve offered to grab her a towel or something. Moments later I hear the drawer shut and turn to watch as she stands, walking to the dresser and taking a robe from one of the hooks on the wall nearby. It’s a simple black, cotton robe, but it cuts off above her knees and hugs every single curve of her body when she ties it around her waist.
“I’ll walk you out.”
I wonder how Brody’s date went last night. We haven’t seen each other since he left in that fancy new outfit of his. When I pull into the driveway, his car is in its usual spot–not that there’s any reason it shouldn’t be. The man works from home and the only time he goes anywhere without me is… Actually, except for errands or a workout, he almost never goes anywhere without me. That’s why I’m forcing him to try to date.
Walking into the quiet house, I make sure to close the door without slamming it like I’ve been known to do in the past. I tiptoe away and look down the hall toward Brody’s side of the house. His office door is closed .
I chew on my bottom lip debating on whether or not to interrupt him. He was so nervous, but the excitement was there too. It’s nice to see him enthusiastic about something as simple as a date. Usually, he only gets amped up about new tasks at work, maybe a video game.
I’ve never understood the computer stuff, but I listen to every word he says when he talks about it all. I’m not entirely sure he’s figured out why, but I came to terms long ago with the idea that he never will.
With a sigh, I turn away from Brody’s half of the house and walk down the hallway to drop my backpack off in the studio before heading to the bathroom. I peel off my clothing, which still smells like Honey’s apartment. A part of me wants to hold it to my nose and inhale deeply, but I resist the creepy urge.
That’s stalker shit, Miles.
Stepping into the shower and turning on the water, I move through the motions robotically. As my hands spread the body wash over my stomach, they drift down further. Without thought of actually cleaning myself, visions of Honey appear in my mind. The way she tasted–sweeter than her name if truth be told. The way she moaned for me. The way she moved beneath me. The way it felt when her walls tightened around my cock the first time I thrust inside her.
“Fuck,” I growl. I actually growl, like a goddamn animal. For her, maybe I am an animal. A caged animal in need of rescue or a predator in search of its prey, I can’t say which.
I slowly stroke my cock as it hardens. My head falls back, lips parting as the water cascades down my back. I’d give anything to have Honey right here, right now, her hands all over me. I haven’t gotten to feel her mouth on my cock, but I’m looking forward to that. I know it’ll be better than anything my imagination can cook up, but I’m still going to try.
A knock at the bathroom door startles me, ruining the fantasy.
“Hey, man, how long you gonna be? I need to start laundry.”
Really, Brody? Really?
“Five more minutes!”
After switching the water to cold, it takes less than that for me to finish up and step out of the shower, using the towel to try and dry my hair as much as possible before I wrap it around my waist. I grab the dirty clothes from the floor and leave the bathroom to get dressed .
“Done?” Brody’s voice drifts from the living room where our washer and dryer are hidden away in a closet.
I shout a confirmation and disappear into my room. When I reenter the hallway, I can hear that the washer is already going.
“You done for the day?” I ask, running a hand through my damp hair as I round the corner. Brody is sitting on the couch, one arm spread out along the back, his other hand holding the remote as he scrolls through Netflix.
“Yeah, I started a little early this morning.” He checks his phone when it buzzes on the couch next to him.
“Who’s got you smiling like that?”
“The girl from last night. She was nice.” He shrugs.
“Nice doesn’t have you grinning like an idiot at your phone less than twenty-four hours later.” I point at the device in his hand for emphasis. “Nice is ‘hey, I’m also seeing someone else and it’s getting serious, so I don’t want to lead you on, but I don’t think this will work out.’”
“Is that what ‘nice’ is to you?” He raises an eyebrow before returning his focus to his phone while he types out a message.
“Are you gonna tell me how last night was?” I would have thought it would be the first thing out of his mouth. Unless it was bad. Was it bad? Do I want that? No… right?
“I thought you’d never ask,” he chuckles, turning to face me as I round the corner of the couch and sit on the opposite side.
I turn to face him slightly, propping one knee up on the cushion. Brody grins, his green eyes shining. I’m not sure I’ve seen him this happy in a while. That’s what I want, isn’t it?
“Well? Don’t keep me waiting.”
“She’s amazing.” Did he just sigh? “I mean, she’s beautiful, man. She sent me a picture before we met, but fuck, it didn’t do her justice.”
I grin at him because I know exactly what that’s like. A certain amateur porn star just about knocked me over when she opened the door. Her smile was so dazzling, I think I stopped breathing for a moment.
“You haven’t been on a date in years,” I remind him with a chuckle. “Don’t fall for the first girl you meet just because she’s beautiful.”
Brody shakes his head .
“There was barely a second where we weren’t talking,” he goes on. “I’m not saying I’m in love or anything,” he adds with a laugh when he sees my expression of concern. “I just didn’t expect my first date in years to go… so well, I guess.”
“I’m glad it did.” I lean sideways, against the back of the couch. “Anything happen?” He knows what I mean, but Brody’s face doesn’t change, doesn’t betray any sign of insecurity.
“I kissed her, but…” He trails off, but it looks more like he’s lost in thought than that he doesn’t know how to finish the sentence.
“And she didn’t run away screaming?”
“I’m surprised too,” he laughs. “Think she’ll go out with me again tomorrow if I ask?”
I raise my eyebrows in surprise.
“Brody Torrence,” I muse. “A man with absolutely no chill.” He laughs again, shaking his head and looking down before his eyes meet mine again.
“Zero,” he says with something like pride in his voice.
“Have you talked at all today?” I ask. “Texted her or anything?”
“I said good morning, but she told me she had a busy day with work.”
“The ol’ brush off, huh?” It’s a tease, no hint of truth, but I regret my words instantly. A shadow of doubt flits across Brody’s face. I scoot closer and pat his shoulder gently. “I was kidding. I’m sure she can’t wait to see you again.” His phone buzzes in his pocket. “Ask her about tomorrow. Go see a baseball game before the season’s over or something. I’m sure you can find tickets.”
“Is that what you’d do?”
The question surprises me. I keep forgetting Brody’s not used to this. He’s been on maybe five dates in his life, including high school. I doubt anything happened in college, given that he graduated a year early. I’m sure he always had his nose in his books or his eyes on the computer screen.
“I, er, I’d probably do some kind of activity. Not just watch a game, but I don’t know, that wine and painting thing we did one time?”
I wave my hand toward the two nearly identical paintings hanging on the wall by the front door. For his birthday three years ago, I gathered a few of our friends and we rented out the whole studio for a class. None of the paintings turned out well, but we display ours with pride anyway.
“That’s not a bad idea,” Brody says with a nod. I can see the confidence coming back, at least .
“Then do that. Done.”
“Oh sure, easy!” Brody rolls his eyes. “What if-”
“Brody, shut up. Just call her.” I stand from the couch. It might be too early to start dinner, but I have to do something to stay busy.
“What if she expects-”
“Most women don’t want to have to say no to going home with you on the first few dates,” I say, answering the question I know he has in his head. “I promise she’ll be relieved that you’re not moving too fast.”
“But when-”
“Brody,” I cut him off, turning to face the couch. He is twisted around to watch me. “I will absolutely help you when the time comes, but there’s no use panicking about it now, ok?”
No use asking me how to broach the subject of never having had a woman in his bed when I know damn well this is going to end up the same way.
“Look, if you really think you’ll take that step, be prepared.” I sigh when Brody just stares. “Go get tested. I have condoms if you want them.” I shrug.
“Tested?”
“Bro.”
“No, I just mean, is there- Do I just ask my doctor?”
Jesus, I hate the American education system. It would benefit everyone if schools just taught actual safe sex instead of abstinence.
“I’ll send you a link to the clinic I go to. You’ll be all set.” I pull my phone out to type out the info. “You can usually get results within a day or two. Go tomorrow morning if you can.”
I press send and Brody’s phone vibrates on the couch. I almost want to celebrate this moment. He’s never asked me about STI testing before. He must think this woman is worth it.
“You gonna tell me how your shoot went?” Brody asks after a beat.
He knows I filmed with someone for the first time. He also has a vague idea of just how obsessed I was with Honey before I even reached out to her. I wouldn’t shut up about her, though I haven’t shown him her content. I guess I want to keep her to myself.
“I’m in trouble. She’s fucking perfect.” I throw my head back with a groan. When I don’t elaborate, Brody remains silent, staring me down when I drop my head. I may be able to read his mind, but it means he can do the same with me. It’s annoying. “I’d ask her out if we’d met under, you know, normal circumstances.”
“I thought all you did was fuck them and dip.” He doesn’t mean it as an insult. It’s a simplified explanation of the process and not incorrect. “How is she perfect?”
“She’s funny and charming and her touch just-” I shake my head, not sure how to continue. “It sends electricity through me. I’m talking major sparks.”
“Are you writing a romance novel?” Brody laughs.
“Brod, I’m serious. I wanted to cuddle afterward. Cuddle. Me.”
“Lance Kixxx doesn’t do cuddles.”
“Exactly!” I shout, throwing up my arms in frustration. “And neither does Miles Corning.”
“I mean, if she’s perfect like you said, what’s the harm in asking her for a drink? Getting to know her? Maybe you’ll find out you don’t like her after all. Maybe she’s the worst person alive.”
“She’s not Donald Trump.”
“Touché. Seriously, though. Why not try?”
“I’ve told you how careful women in the industry can be,” I remind him. I haven’t tried to date anyone in my line of work in two years, but I’ve heard stories from the women I’ve worked with. I’ve seen how jaded they can become.
“Yeah, but you’re not an asshole.”
“Oh, thank you.”
“You know what I mean. Ask her or don’t. But my recommendation is that you do. Maybe you won’t be so grumpy anymore.”
“I’m grumpy?” I press a hand to my chest, feigning shock and indignation.
“Yeah, you’re a big grump. I want my friend back. You need to get laid off -camera.”
I suddenly realize that he’s right. Not about being grumpy, of course, but about my sex life. Almost all of it recently has been for my fans, on-camera. I’ve been with women outside of filming, but only a few and not in months. Other than my time with Honey, on-camera orgasms just don’t hit the same.
“Fuck, you’re right.”
“Yes, I know. Now do as you’re told and ask her out.”
“Let’s grab a drink. I need a distraction.” I do a double finger gun gesture and grin when Brody rolls his eyes.
“Miles, I- ”
“Just let me get some of this footage uploaded and then we’ll go. And call your sister.” I had nearly forgotten Isla’s sixteen texts to me since yesterday. “She wants an update.”
“An update?”
“On your date, dipshit.”
My eye twitches while I wait for the footage to upload and I lean my head from side to side, cracking my neck.
How long has it been? Two hours?
Nope. Seventeen minutes.
“Think I can leave my phone here?” I shout through the open door, hoping Brody is still in the living room.
“Up to you, man. Don’t you like sharing stuff on your pages when you’re out?”
“Fuck!” I do. A non-zero number of my fans like paying for my dates, nights out, trips, and just about everything else one can think of. All I have to do is make a post about it.
After another ten minutes of muttering and glaring at the computer screen, the upload has finished. I race from the room to find Brody in another one of his new outfits. The light blue button-down is tailored perfectly to his torso and the sleeves are rolled up to reveal a third of the tattoos on his right arm. His fitted tan pants would make anyone’s ass look good and I feel the eye twitch return.
“You dressed up for me.”
“And you…” Brody raises an eyebrow.
“You don’t like the shorts?” I throw my arms out and spin to give him a good look at the pastel, blue shorts that stop mid-thigh.
“Ready?” He ignores my little fashion show and grabs his keys on his way to the door.
The sports bar is one of our usual haunts, having left the club scene behind when we entered our late twenties and realized it wasn’t fun anymore. We’re lucky to nab a couple of seats at the bar, directly in front of the Dodgers game. They’re losing to the Kansas City Royals in the bottom of the fourth inning, but there’s still time.
Brody and I order our beers and a basket of pretzel bites with an extra side of spicy mustard.
“What did Isla have to say?” I ask, bringing the beer to my lips .
“She asked if the girl I met is crazy.” He snorts.
“Well, she did go out with you. ”
“That’s exactly what Isla said.”
“So, is she crazy?” I raise my eyebrows. “Because I mean-”
“She went out with me because I’m obviously an amazing human being.”
“Ah, yes. How could I forget?” I pull out my phone and hand it over. “Can you?”
Brody doesn’t need any explanation. He snaps a photo of me holding my beer and staring at the camera without smiling. When he hands the phone back, I take a few minutes to create a post.
“What’s the caption this time?”
“Get on your knees and beg,” I reply without looking up.
“Clever.”
“I don’t need to be clever. I need to be hot.” I look up and grin. “Which I am.”
“Your fans need to get glasses.”
“Probably,” I snort.
Part of my online persona includes financial domination, though not the most extreme kind that some women, like Honey Dee Vine’s roommate, get into. It makes me uneasy to really do what are known as wallet drains–an entire session of texting or a phone or video call where I demand more and more money. When I first started posting, several fans wanted to send me their hard-earned money, to worship me, so I went along with it. Six years later, those kinds of tributes account for a big chunk of the money I bring in.
As the bartender sets down the basket of bready goodness with two huge cups of spicy mustard, I set my phone down. I’m the first to reach for a pretzel bite, dipping it in the mustard and popping it into my mouth. I instantly regret it. I forget just how spicy the spicy mustard is here. I love it, but my mouth is already on fire.
“What’s your schedule like this week?” asks Brody.
I have to finish chewing the enormous doughball in my mouth before I respond and Brody takes a moment to pull his phone out for photo evidence of my shame.
“We can’t just forget that happened?” I choke once the pretzel is gone.
“Nope. I'm sending that to Isla later.” He slips his phone back into his pocket. “Schedule?”
“Mostly filming this week, so I’ll be out a lot during the day.”
“You know I don’t mind it when you work from home, right?” Brody asks, taking a pretzel bite and picking up only a small amount of the mustard. Smartass .
“You spoil me.”