I opened a new message and selected a picture of the view from my room—snowy mountain tops and a glistening blue sky. Real-life postcard shit.
Me:Miss you. You would love it here. Dad would hate it.
Mama Mia:The man is half lizard.
Mama Mia:Love you too all the way from KC
She sent back a picture of Dad asleep in his recliner with a half-eaten deli sandwich on his chest.
Even when they were disappointed or embarrassed... I’d always have home.
Over the last week, Winnie and I found ourselves sneaking into nooks and corners to rub our bodies together. We were like two high school kids looking for any excuse to be alone.
Winnie’s hand job game was getting so good that it took actual mental fortitude to last longer than a minute or two.
But it was all over this afternoon when she lured me into the makeup trailer during lunch and locked the door behind her.
After I tore off her panties and ate my lunch right then and there, she pulled down my pants and sank to her knees. “I want to suck your dick,” she said. “Can I?”
“Uh, does Nicolas Cage andNational Treasurering a bell?” I said as I ran my fingers through her hair, before holding the back of her neck and gently pulling her toward me.
Her lips slipped over the head of my penis, and I saw fucking stars. What Winnie was lacking in experience, she made up with enthusiasm.
After cleaning up, we thought we were being so sneaky as we slipped out of the trailer.
“There you two are!” said Jack as he walked toward us with Miss Crumpets strapped to his chest in the doggy version of a BabyBjörn.
“We were running lines,” Winnie said just as I said, “We were looking at lipstick.”
Winnie’s gaze darted to me as she swallowed back a smile.
“Both of those things,” I said with a nod. “Lipstick and lines.”
Jack arched an eyebrow before spinning on his heel and heading back to set. “Sure.”
“How do you raise one eyebrow like that?” I called after him. “I’ve never been able to do that without looking like I have to take a shit.”
“Maybe I do,” he said over his shoulder.
“Did he just make taking a shit sound cool and mysterious?” I asked Winnie.
“I’m pretty sure he did,” she confirmed before pinching my ass. “Let’s go make some fake-sex movie magic.”
I leaned on the hood of the red ’57 Chevy parked at the center of town.
“I think we just need a few more takes of this one,” Gretchen said as Winnie walked back over to her mark.
My character was supposed to be picking up Winnie’s character for a date at a tree farm outside of town, but our car would break down before we even made it to the farm and then we’d get stuck at an inn with only one bed available—a scene I was looking forward to a little too much.
“Winnie, play it a little sweeter and more coy this time if you could. You’re doing great,” Gretchen told her. “We just needoptions for the cutting-room floor.” She turned to me. “And Kallum, husky yet jolly as usual.”
I crossed my arms over my chest in the most lumberjack-esque pose I could strike. “You got it, G.”
“From the top!” Gretchen called, and then to Winnie, “Ready when you are.”
Winnie closed her eyes and then shimmied her shoulders like she always did when she was getting into character. It reminded me of late nights sitting on the couch with my mom watchingI Dream of Jeannie. Watching the shows that Mom used to watch with her mother was always a guaranteed way to get out of bedtime. That’s how I started watching Winnie’s movies. When I outgrew Nick at Nite, I needed another comfort watch, and Winnie was comforting in more ways than one.
Winnie dipped her chin down and smiled with her lips closed in a bashful sort of way as she walked toward me and the car. Her blond hair rustled behind her in a gentle breeze.
