"Are you alright, miss?" His voice asked me. A voice my mind could not yet register, but my body did. Warm, husky, accented with Spanish. Slowly my synapses called themselves to order, and I forced myself to open my eyes. The image was fuzzy, but I stared anyway at the lean, dark, slightly muscular form in the director's chair next to me. I couldn't focus on his face, but that did little to keep me from staring blatantly at the sensual presence.
"You look pale. Here, let me help you out…" The young man's voice continued, and I sighed in relief as long fingers brushed a cold washcloth against my forehead and tender eyelids. "Thank you," I whispered to the man, and he laughed softly. "Ah, it is nothing. Are you feeling better now?" He asked me, and I nodded, feeling slightly dizzy but otherwise healthy. Indeed, all my body's responses to my surroundings - and to my rescuer - were positively amorous. It was then my eyes finally focused, and I recognized my hero.
"It's you!" I exclaimed in an awed whisper, trying not to let my feelings be too obvious. There was that dazzling, toothy smile I knew so well from the choice photos I had hidden in a secret folder…used for, shall we say, entertainment purposes. The thought of those purposes suddenly filled me with urgent guilt, and I asked my new friend where my boyfriend was. He gave me an impish shrug, that smile still curving his full lips - now framed, my mind noted, by a delicious 5'o clock goatee.
"He'll be along in a while. Don't you worry about him; believe me, he's not hurt in any way. I'm more concerned about your well being." He purred, his brown eyes gazing in the direction of my short denim skirt. I wondered if that was all he was concerned about as I realized how far up my thighs the garment had traveled. I also wondered how concerned I should be that I can't take my eyes off of the spot where his shirt had opened, leaving much of his bare chest showing brazenly.
"Look, I appreciate what you did for me back there, and I love your work and everything, but I really should get back to my boyfriend now." I said, hoping I sounded convincing enough for him to let me leave. What I did not say was how anxious I was about the thought of leaving my man alone with those two starlets, and myself alone with someone whose presence dominated my deepest sexual fantasies.
I stood up from the couch, but as I had expected, he met me at the dressing room door, grasping my wrist gently when I reached for the doorknob. "Please, don't leave. You should have adequate time to recover from your scare outside, and besides, I haven't had company other than my co-stars for ages." Our eyes met and battled one another sublimely. His other hand reached up to brush a strand of long brown hair from my face, again turning my attention to how long his fingers were, how strong his hands were built. I wondered how many women he had pleasured intimately with them.
"You haven't even let me offer you a drink yet," He pouted, grinning. "I've got some Kahlua here, some vintage wines…or just ice water. Whatever you want." He said, allowing his last words to be infused with double meaning. Despite my mind's objections, my body seemed to want the last word. And I did want to get to know him better, him being my favorite actor and all. Finally, I let my hand down and smiled sweetly. "All right, fine, you win. But not for too long, okay? My boyfriend will be worried."
The smile faded slightly so that it played upon his lips. He leaned in close enough to let me breathe his scent and kissed my cheek so close to my neck, I swore he was initiating something. My skin tingled and goose bumped from the light, arousing contact. "He won't know the difference…and neither will you, my dear." Then the moment was gone, and he was rummaging in his fridge, searching for the brown bottle. I sighed like a little schoolgirl and managed to settle myself into the other foldout chair, hoping I could keep my composure.
TBC
