My dick twitched. This little crush was going to get me in trouble. How was I supposed to keep my downstairs flaccid when we were pretending to have sex if her just leaning close enough for me to smell her citrus-scented shampoo was enough to make me feel like a teenage boy?
“I’m worried I can’t do it,” she whispered, and then clapped her hand over her mouth, like she’d take it back if she could.
I forced my inner horndog to shut up. “Can’t do the scene?” I asked. “Or the whole movie?” I was so excited to be working with Winnie that I hadn’t even taken a moment to realize how off-brand this all was for her. But I just thought maybe she was branching out after her divorce or that this was the Hope Channel’s way of keeping their die-hard fans happy.
“I just don’t know if I can be, uh, sensual. On camera.”
Down, boy, I reminded myself. “Oh, there’s nothing to it,” I assured her. “A fake orgasm isn’t all that different from a real orgasm. At least, that’s what I’ve been told,” I added. “My knowledge about fake orgasms is limited, given that my only foray into adult content was one-hundred-percent real pleasure—hers included.” I gave her a wink—and oh my God, was that smarmy? That felt smarmy.
“But I’ve never had an orgasm,” she blurted.
My whole body froze, except for my dick. Because of course it didn’t.Whaaaa?I mouthed. Winnie Baker had never had an orgasm?
Winnie Baker had never had an orgasm.
I pursed my lips together to stop myself from smiling.Winnie Baker had never had an orgasm.
And that sucked. But holy fuck. What I wouldn’t give to show her what it meant to truly give herself over to feeling good...
Okay, dick twitching again.Be cool, Kallum. This is a job. This is a professional setting. Winnie is mycoworker. This is watercooler talk or whatever!
Her hands flew up, fingers bracing against her temples. “Oh my... I’m so sorry,” she said as she began to step back so that she was flush with the bathroom door. “That was really inappropriate, I shouldn’t have—”
“No, no,” I said, holding up my hands.Say something, man.But not a stupid thing. But what if this was my moment to put myself out there? I wanted so badly to take Winnie’s hand and march her right out of here to the brand-new and pointlessly modern hotelthe Hope Channel had put me up in. What would it feel like to drag my nose past her collarbone and between her breasts, just drinking her in?
But no. Winnie had confided in me. I couldn’t just throw myself at her. That’s what Wedding Hookup Kallum would do. And I was done with that.
“This is important stuff,” I said, as I realized she was holding her breath, just waiting for me to speak, and all I wanted was to comfort her in any way I could and to let her know that she was okay and normal, and if she had this problem, other people did too. But instead I talked out of my ass with absolute confidence. “And I’m glad you told me, because I have the perfect solution.”
“You do?” she asked, full of hope.
I nodded solemnly.
Don’t saySit on my face. Don’t saySit on my face. Don’t saySit on my face.
“I do,” I said. “Research.”
“Research?”
“Actors are always talking about research in their interviews, right?” I asked, the words spilling out of my mouth faster than I could think of them. “Well, in this case, your research will be the best research in the world—orgasms. Having them, watching them, having some more. Until you have a few good ways in mind that you can fake them for the camera.”
“Research,” she repeated faintly.
I gave her a big grin and had to literally stop from patting myself on the back. “That’s all acting is, right? Taking what we know from real life and turning it into make-believe? We’ve gotalmost a week before we’re in Christmas Notch, and I bet that’s more than enough time to get your PhD in poon-monsoons, Winnie Baker. Hell, Jack Hart himself is basically a living textbook. You should search for some of his videos this week. Maybe not the Hoover Dam one though.” I’d seen that one and it was definitely an upper-level course.
“I—ah. Okay,” she nodded astutely. “Research. I’ll do my research.”
“Okay, let’s see what we’re working with here,” Luca, the head of the costuming department, said as he knelt in front of the tailoring pedestal. “You sure you don’t want me to leave the room while you try it on?”
“Should you buy me dinner first? Maybe even just a food truck snack, or something,” I said. “Uh, but no. I’m fine.”
Luca smirked. He had light beige skin, highly coiffed black hair, and today was wearing an oversize black sweater and black leather pants. Even back home in KC in the midst of a late spring snowstorm, I’d be sweating my ass off in his outfit. Forget the greater LA area, where air-conditioning was about as strong as someone gently blowing on your neck.
“That depends. On the dinner,” he clarified. “I’m vegan, pizza boy. Well, I guess technically I’m currently vegan-curious. At least while I’m Stateside, and away from real gelato. And this isn’t a date, or even a hookup. This is a fitting.” He held his hand out to reveal a diamond-studded band on his left hand. “Besides, I’m engaged.”
I nodded as I stepped onto the pedestal and began to unbuckle my belt. “Right. Sorry. That was a bad joke. Not thatthis is a sexual thing... I mean, it’sfora sexual thing. But not a real sexual thing. Sorry. Nerves. Congratulations, by the way.”
“Surely you’re not nervous about this?” he asked, swinging his measuring tape around like he might hypnotize me. “You didn’t seem so shy during your latest... motion picture.”
