Page 40 of Wardrobe Malfunction

I get up and walk away, heading for the restroom, without acknowledging Charly even though it pains me to do so.

Vaughn

The cameras are rolling. Music is pumping out in the makeshift club on set, The Weeknd’s “Starboy” thrumming in my ears. Natasha—or as I should say, Lexi—is currently gyrating on my lap, dancing for me—well, for my character, Drew Asher.

Only thing is…I can’t seem to get my head in the scene and off Charly.

I don’t get why she’s infecting my thoughts so much. It has to be because I can’t have her. Forbidden fruit and all that.

I force myself back into character. On cue, Drew gets to his feet, picking up Lexi, and carries her over to the bar where he deposits her on the top, none too gently.

Personally, I would take a little more care of my woman, but this isn’t me. This is Drew, and Drew’s an asshole; therefore, I’m currently an asshole.

Well, I am an asshole, too. Just not in bed. I like to make sure my woman is happy and taken care of, putting her needs before my own.

Lexi pulls Drew into her body, using her legs wrapped around his waist.

Drew kisses her hard. His fingers buried deep in her hair, controlling the action.

A flash of kissing Charly like this appears in my mind.

Holding her like this, pushing my tongue into her mouth.

I can feel myself start to lose hold of Drew, imagining this is me kissing Charly.

Jesus Christ. Drew is kissing Lexi. Get with the fucking program, Vaughn.

It’s not like me to lose character like this.

Dragging myself back, Drew grabs ahold of Lexi’s legs and pulls them from around him. Stepping back, sliding his hands down her legs, he parts them wide, hooking each of her heeled feet onto the barstools on either side of them.

My eyes come up.

Charly.

She’s standing there, right in my eye line, watching.

What the fuck is she doing here?

I know she has to be on set, but couldn’t she stand somewhere else?

This scene is hard enough to do as it is without the current source of my dick’s desire right where I can see her.

I feel a rush of anger at her.

Unable to do anything, I throw the feeling into my character.

Fixing his eyes on Lexi, Drew yanks his jacket off, throwing it aside. He rips off the shirt he’s wearing, sending the buttons scattering. His shoes are kicked off. Belt buckle is the next to go. The zipper is pulled down, and the pants are off.

And then Drew is standing there, stark fucking naked.

There’s always that moment when my brain catches up to the joke—that it is actually me who’s naked, but for a cock sock, in front of all these people.

Quick as a switch, I flick my brain back to Drew.

Drew doesn’t give a fuck that people can see him. Or that he’s about to fuck a stripper on the bar in front of them all.

Stepping back up to Lexi, Drew rips her panties off, making her gasp.