Donāt be reading this story if youāre under 18. To the best of my knowledge, none of the acts described here are true, itās all just my imagination running wild. If you want to post this story somewhere, thatās great, just please leave my name and e-mail on it.
Thanks once again to Rich Wilson and my beloved flatmate (who shall remain nameless) for their valuable advice. The same goes for Pete Grunigan, who is surprisingly helpful for an Englishman. Also a very big thank you to those who sent me feedback on my first effort, you know who you are. Feedback of any sort is again welcome, send it all to the link below. Happy reading.
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Rob picked himself up off the stones and wiped the blood from his jaw before attempting to get into a fighting stance. He had just raised his guard when a foot thudded into his side, knocking the wind out of him. Despite this, he lashed out with a sharp right and was rewarded by the familiar crack of breaking bone. Ignoring the manās cry of pain, he delivered a knee to his forehead, ending the attackerās pain for the moment. Just as he spun to face the second assailant, he felt an almighty pain in the back of his head and dropped to his knees, barely staying conscious. He did catch the click of a switchblade and felt a rush of despair. He tried to meet his killerās eyes, but could only make out a shadowy figure lunging at him, knife arm outstretched. Rob desperately tried to raise his arms in self-defence, knowing he was too late and this wasā¦
āCut!ā The directorās voice boomed out. āThatās a wrap everybody. Great work guys, I think we nailed it that time. Get out of here, weāre done for today.ā
It probably wasnāt as graphic to Rob as I described, but it sure looked that way from where I was standing. This was right at the back of the set of course. I sure as hell wasnāt needed here and I wasnāt looking to get thrown out, so I stayed as unobtrusive as possible. I thought of going over to see if Rob had avoided injuries this time, but saw he was already receiving assistance.
āI didnāt break anything this time, did I?ā
Rob would have likely responded with sarcasm to this question, had it been posed by almost anyone else. Instead, he smiled at the questioner and took the proffered hand. His sore muscles groaned at being exerted again and he checked himself over for any obvious damage. He needed a new vest, as this one was dirty and ripped way past the wardrobe departmentās specifications. Besides that, it seemed all he had to show for it was a few more bruises.
āNo Michelle, you seem to have gone easy on me today. No broken bones or internal bleeding as far as I can tell. I only hope that my left arm still has enough feeling in it to lift a pint.ā Rob smiled at his co-star, hoping she wouldnāt choose this moment to again show how much tougher than him she was. Rob was no lightweight but he was totally outclassed here by a woman who could beat him without breaking sweat.
Obviously Michelle Rodriguez had decided heād suffered enough for one day, choosing only to give him the finger in response to his comments.
āI canāt believe you. I show you how much fun a night of drinking only tequila slammers can be and you want to go back to your English beer? That stuff tastes like itās been left in a cellar about fifty years too long.ā
āWell some of us want to be able to have a few drinks and then be able to get out of bed in the morning. Your idea of having a few drinks is to consume enough alcohol to stun a buffalo and then spending the next day in bed recovering. I have no objections to that normally, but not when I have to shoot fight scenes the next day.ā Rob rubbed his aching temples while saying this, still feeling the effects of all that tequila.
āOh you poor little baby!ā It didnāt take a telepath to realise there was some sarcasm in that voice. āSeriously, come to my trailer and Iāll make it all better.ā