Bex is floored; I can understand that. That beautiful mouth of hers hangs open, and I can think of a few different ways I’d like to fill it.
As the silence drags on, I nudge her with my knee. “Say something.”
She shakes her head, then reaches for her beer and sips. And sips. And, well, at this point, she’s chugging it, gracefully somehow, which makes me laugh.
“That bad, huh?”
Bex finishes her beer and slams the glass down on the bartop. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. “No, not… no, it’s not, really.”
I’m still laughing as I say, “Sure, sure.”
“No, it’s really not,” she stammers, heat flooding her cheeks. That blush is making me wonder what other parts of her get pretty and red like that when she’s embarrassed, or nervous… or turned on. My cock twitches and internally I shout at it—you’re a professional, for fuck’s sake. “It just explains why I didn’t recognize you, that’s all.”
“Not your thing, huh?”
“Porn?” She shrugs and looks down at her hands, now twisting nervously in her lap. “I’d be lying if I said I’ve never watched it, I just…”
“Don’t have a favorite actor?”
“Right, I don’t watch enough to have a favorite,” she mumbles.
Reaching out, I put two fingers under her chin, tilting her head to look back at me. “Eyes on me.” She bites her lip, and fuck, at this point I’ve been semi-hard for hours. It’s painful. “You’ve got such beautiful eyes,” I murmur. “Let me see them when you speak to me.”
I’m turning on my dominant side. I know I am, but it’s a natural instinct with her. Bex is ranging from straightforward and bratty to shy and nervous, and I’m feeling desperate to find a comfortable balance with her.
Women are generally pretty easy for me to read. I’ve been in close to 1,000 adult films over the course of my career, so while I know how to handle women in front of the camera, I’ve also gotten close to them off camera. Notthat kindof close, but friendly, conversational—probably the opposite of everything people think happens on the set of an adult film. Most of the time, we’re relaxing and playing card games when we’re not shooting, albeit some of us are wearing robes and nothing elseunderneath. It’s more of a professional workplace than people would expect.
As badly as I want to learn more about her in this line of questioning, I drop my fingers from her chin and slide back into my seat. Everyone thinks they can fuck a porn star—and I mean everyone. We’re easy targets, because the assumption is that we fuck all the time. And we can fuck whoever we want to as well, because they’ll obviously be into our bodies and our experience. It’s a load of shit, and my goal here tonight is not to fuck Bex.
I wasn’t being facetious or misleading when I said I wanted to get to know her. There’s something about her that sparked my interest in the Regency Room, and I’m nothing if not determined to know her as a person first. And then, yeah, we’ll probably fuck, but that’s not the priority tonight.
“Where are you from, Bex?” I ask, signaling the bartender back over to refill Bex’s drink.
“Another beer?” the bartender—Janie, her faded name tag seems to read—asks Bex.
“Actually, can we get two tequila shots with limes? And then I’ll take a Corona,” Bex says quickly. She gives me a guilty look. “Think I need something stronger,” she says, laughing softly.
“Why? Because of what I do for a living?” I know that’s why, but I want her to say it. I want to know what she’s thinking, what she’s seeing when she looks at me.
Janie deposits our shots and Bex’s beer and hustles away to serve a new group who rolled up to the other side of the bar.
Bex passes me the salt shaker and shrugs. “Honestly, it doesn’t bother me… too much,” she says. “But it’s intimidating as hell. I’m sure you can understand that.”
Nodding, I say, “Yeah, I get that. I don’t really act anymore. It’s mostly directing or producing.” As I say the words, I feel a twinge of guilt. It’s a bit misleading, since I haven’t completely given up acting, but it has been a few months. “That’s just work to me, though. Do you talk to your dates about the work you do at the casino, serving drinks?”
“Is this a date?” she asks with a coy smirk before raising her hand to her lips, slipping her tongue out and wetting the small space on the top of her hand, between her thumb and pointer finger. She doesn’t take her eyes off me the entire time, and it’s hot as fuck. I’m glad I’m sitting down. Otherwise, she’d see proof of how she’s making me feel via the bulge in my pants.
I lift the salt shaker and deposit some on her hand, then lick the same spot on my hand. She runs her tongue along her lower lip while she watches me—damn, I really wasn’t planning on fucking her tonight, but she’s challenging my thoughts with every passing minute.
We raise our shots toward each other, tapping them.
Before we toss them back, I smirk and say, “Sugar, this can be whatever you want it to be.”
Her eyes widen as we toss back our shots, not taking our eyes off each other until we’re reaching for our limes.
“Fuck,” I say, biting into my lime. It’s been a bit since I’ve done a tequila shot like that—there’s a reason I prefer the smokey burn of bourbon.
Glancing at Bex, she’s taken her shot like a pro. She sucks on her lime with a smile on her face and, for the second time tonight, I wonder what those lips would feel like wrapped around my cock. Those brilliant green eyes staring up at me, filled with whatever spark is filling them right now. I wonder if she’s imagining the same thing.
