We had already done enough, and I didn’t want to overwhelm her.
19
Lana
My breathing was ragged and shallow, and my heart felt like it was pounding against my ribcage. I had just experienced my first orgasm, and the intensity of it still lingered, leaving me both exhilarated and unnervingly exposed. I could still feel the memory of his mouth on me and the way his hands moved over my body. The awareness of him hovering so close that every nerve in me seemed to tingle was a sensation I had to get used to. The experience was overwhelming, more than I had expected, and it made me realize how much power he had over my body, even when he wasn’t touching me.
Callan shifted, his touch finally easing, his body pulling back just enough to give me space. I could see the change in his expression. The raw heat in his eyes softened into something controlled and serious. “We have to stop here,” he said, his voice firm but without any sharpness. There was weight behind it, an unspoken understanding of why we couldn’t go further, but he didn’t elaborate. He didn’t need to.
I nodded, almost automatically, because I understood exactly what he meant. I wasn’t ready to fight him on it. The reality of what had just happened pressed down on me, and the room seemed quieter all of a sudden. My body still hummed withtension, with my pulse still racing, but I didn’t feel capable of handling more. What he had done was already too intense, and I needed time to process it, and to let it settle in.
Callan moved back fully, getting out of bed. In an instant, the intimacy disappeared, replaced by the professional and composed demeanor I had seen before. He ran a hand over his head, as if trying to straighten out the last traces of chaos, and his eyes fixed on me with a mix of concern and determination. “You okay?” he asked, his tone soft but steady, observing me closely as I pulled the blanket up over my legs.
I sat upright, hugging the blanket around myself, and was suddenly aware of how exposed I still was. My skin between my legs felt sensitive, almost too aware of where his mouth had been, and a shiver ran through me. “Yes,” I said finally, my voice small. “I’m okay.”
Callan gave a brief nod, his gaze still unwavering. “Good,” he said, but there was something lingering in his eyes. It looked like relief and regret, but I tried not to read too much into it. I was sure he had to let this sink in first, too.
Then, with one last once-over, he left.
The door closed behind him with a soft click, and the room was silent. I remained on the bed, still wrapped in the blanket, letting my body relax into the mattress. The quiet was jarring in comparison to the storm of sensations I had just experienced. My mind kept replaying every touch and every look.
I stayed like that for a long time, just letting the darkness surround me. The reality of what had just happened pressed on me in a way I wasn’t ready to unpack fully. And even as I sat there alone, I couldn’t stop thinking about him, about how he had made me feel, and how much I wanted to understand what that meant for both of us.
I was still his fluffer. That hadn’t changed. But we hadn’t spoken about the next time I’d have to help him get ready for filming. I’d let him come to me.
***
Holland’s birthday came two days later, which gave me an excuse to escape the house and the heavy thoughts that had been following me since that night. She wanted to celebrate at a bar downtown, nothing too fancy. She wanted loud and crowded, flashing lights, music, and people who didn’t care who was watching her dance.
We got dressed at her place, with music playing from her phone while we shared the mirror and our makeup. I thought about telling her what happened, that I had let Callan make me reach my very first orgasm, but every time I thought back to it, my heart skipped so many beats I thought I would suffer a heart attack.
So, I pushed all the thoughts of Callan aside, ignored the tingling between my legs, and focused on Holland’s big night. She chose a black mini dress and heels that made her look like a Hollywood star, and with her blonde hair all blown out in big waves, and her glamorous makeup, she was ready to paint the town red. She insisted on doing my makeup too, and I let her brush a shimmer across my eyelids until I barely recognized myself. I loved it. I was bad at makeup, even though I liked putting it on, and I was always happy to let her turn me into a whole new person.
I chose knee-high boots, a fitted skirt, and a cropped top that showed some skin, and when we looked at each other, all ready to go out, we grinned and nodded.
“We looksohot,” she said. “We’re going to have the best time.”
“Oh, yes,” I replied, admiring her beauty before looking at myself in the mirror. “Okay, but we have to leave now, or our Uber will leave.”
We grabbed our purses and left her apartment, ready to dance all night. The bar was packed, and the music was so loud that we had to shout over it. Holland danced right away, carefree and wild, her hair whipping around her shoulders as she pulled me along. It took me a moment to let go and match her energy, and when I did, my body moved without thought. My laughter blended with hers as we lost ourselves in the rhythm of the crowded bar.
Between rounds of shots, we met a few people. Guys who tried too hard, girls whom we’ve met around campus before, and even one of our professors was out dancing tonight. Holland thrived on the attention, and I mostly stood there, watching her like a proud mom.
It was late when we finally left. Holland was tipsy but happy, leaning on me as we walked back to the car she’d called. She rambled about how perfect the night had been, how she wished every birthday felt like this, and how ready she was to jump into bed and sleep. I supported her through it all, encouraging her to keep her spirits high because seeing her so happy made me smile.
I accompanied her to her apartment, brought her inside while the Uber waited for me to get back, and once I was sure Holland was safe at home, I got back to the car and let it drive me up the Hollywood Hills to Callan’s mansion.
The front door was unlocked, and it was an unsettling thought that there had probably been many nights in which I wasn’t safe from actual intruders. Despite Callan’s security guys hanging around on filming days, there were none aroundwhen it was just us in this house. So it wouldn’t surprise me if strangers randomly walked in here without an invite.
I locked the door when it closed behind me. I saw the TV glow in the living room, and with all the rest of the house being silent, I knew it was Callan sitting in there. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to go talk to him, but after ignoring everything I felt for him all night, I felt a strong pull toward him. I set my purse down at the bottom of the stairs and took off my boots before walking into the living room where I found him sitting on one of the three large couches.
I stepped around the couch and took a seat at the other end, leaving some space between us. Quiet at first, I needed a moment to gather my thoughts. I hadn’t had too much alcohol at the bar, but the smallest buzz lingered in my head. Crossing my legs, I rested my hands on my knees and kept my gaze mostly forward. I didn’t want to break the tension. Saying the wrong thing felt like a real risk. I could feel the subtle shift of his posture, but he seemed relaxed. He was probably tired, and I wondered if my intruding on the quiet he’d been sitting in had been a mistake.
But then, finally, he shifted and leaned back as his eyes flicked toward me with that same intensity I’d felt days ago. “Your mother called,” he said. His voice was calm, but it carried a sharpness I wasn’t used to hearing.
I froze. My stomach sank, with a mix of dread and irritation pooling inside me. “She did?” I asked, trying not to sound as rattled as I felt.
“Yeah,” he continued, turning fully to face me now, his elbows resting on his knees. “She had a lot to say about me. And then about you. She wasn’t exactly polite.”
