This is a work of fiction. Unless otherwise indicated, all the names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents in this book are either the product of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
***
"Jenny, can you to put the props in the Prop Room before you head home? You know how Alan is about things being in their place."
"Sure," Jenny gave her coworker a weary smile as she went to grab the props.
Working in Hollywood seemed like it was going to be a glamorous gig. Oh sure, it's the old cliche: small-town girl goes to big city to make it big.
Jenny hadn't wanted to be an actor; she wanted to be a director. BIG difference. Okay, she knew it was the same trope, but no one in her small knit hometown in Missouri believed she could do it. And being the fiercely independent woman she was, Jenny sought out to prove people wrong.
'So what do I do?' Jenny thought to herself as she gathered the props from the show. 'I join the first gig I can and end up stacking cans!'
Working on a reality food show hadn't been the dream, but Jenny knew it was a step in the right direction. As a set assistant, she could honorably work her way up the ladder, unlike some of her colleagues who preferred to, ahem, flat back it.
She sighed as she entered the lonely pantry, stacking cans and small parcels of food on the shelves.
Blue eyes paired with devious thoughts watched Jenny from a short distance as she entered the pantry.
'Look at her go,' he practically licked his lips. 'Smart, beautiful...look at her dick sucking lips.' This thought made him stand up straighter as he adjusted his throbbing erection. He couldn't wait to break her in.
It was time.
Back in the pantry, Jenny checked her phone to see if her friends sent her the details of their hangout tonight. 'No reception,' she rolled her eyes. 'Of course.'
Whoosh, the double doors of the pantry closed. Jenny jumped, she hadn't even realized she had left them open.
In the doorway stood the show's star Alan Ettleman. An older gentleman pushing mid to late forties, Alan had a wicked sense of humor and a killer smile to compliment his baby blues. His lean muscular frame stood pressed next to the door, flashing that famous smile at Jenny.
"Oh hi Alan," Jenny quickly smiled back at him. They'd chatted quite a few times before, so it didn't quite dawn on her that he closed them off in the pantry.
"Jenny," he crooned, slowly inching closer to the tired set assistant. "They've got you working so hard, don't they?"
Jenny chuckled as she tucked a blonde tendril of hair behind her ear. "Most days, yeah. Usually it's so we can make folks like you look good." She shot him a grin before turning back to stacking.
"Is that right?" Jenny wasn't looking at Alan but could swear she heard a smirk in his voice. "You have a way of making people look good, don't you?"
This time Jenny's chuckling was more uncertain. "Ha ha, I don't know what you mean."
"Oh." The word was breathed into her ear as hands gently touched her hips. "I think you do."
Jenny moved to turn around but was pressed against the shelves with Alan's body weight. She hadn't heard him move; he was deceptively strong and though there was spacing between the shelves, he had her pinned tight.
"I remember you mentioning once before," Alan's hot breath seemed to wrap around Jenny's neck, "that you were a unique combination of wild and dependable."
Jenny gulped as she flashed back to a casual conversation they'd once had. Filming was halted for a few hours, so over coffee Alan had provoked her, tauntingly mentioning that the women he had previously dated were gold-digging flakes. Jenny's hypnotic green eyes looked back at him and boldly told him that she was the most wild and dependable woman he'd ever meet.
Jenny could kick herself for assuming that comment had gone unnoticed, especially now that she felt Alan's hands lazily moving up her body, taking in every curve and enjoying the smoothness of her pale skin. She hadn't thought anything of wearing her usual shirt and yoga pants except now she felt every move Alan made.
