“All the more reason to have a drink or two first,” Mindy said lightly. “Come on. It’ll help you sleep.”
“Well...”
“Tradition must be adhered to whenever possible,” she added.
He sighed. “Okay, I guess you’re right.”
She smiled and tussled his hair a little. “I knew I could count on you,” she said.
They made their way to the private lounge. It was moderately busy since a lot of the crew that had been working on the parking lot scene had stopped in for their own blast of the good stuff. They went to the bar and ordered their drinks. Once they had them in hand, they found a secluded table near the back corner.
“I think we did some pretty good work today,” Mindy told him as she sipped from her martini.
“Agreed,” Greg said. “It should look very ... you know ... provocative when they put it all together in post-production.”
“It’s going to be hot as hell,” she said slyly. “That chemistry that you and I have developed for this project was shining through tonight.”
“Yeah,” he said thoughtfully. “I guess it was.”
“Filming scenes like that can be so awkward sometimes. You know what I’m talking about, right? Most of the time it’s with someone you’re not really all that interested in being that close to, but you have to do it anyway. It can be difficult to project the proper passion required to convince the viewer that you really are hot to trot.”
“That is true,” he allowed.
“But it wasn’t like that tonight,” she said. “We really clicked out there in that parking lot. Our chemistry was driving it, making us mesh just like two parts of a machine.” She gave him a sly smile. “It was fun in ... you know ... a naughty sort of way, wasn’t it?”
“Uh ... well...” he stammered, “while I’ll admit that our chemistry did enhance the scene to some degree, we were, after all, just two actors out there playing a roll.”
“Oh, come off it, Greg,” she scoffed playfully. “I was pressed up against you for more than an hour out there. I could feel that you were having fun, if you know what I mean.”
He felt himself flushing at her words. “I ... uh ... know what you mean,” he said. “I did experience an unwarranted biological response to our close proximity, and for that I apologize.”
“An ‘unwarranted biological response?’ Have you been hanging out with Nerdly Archer a little too much?”
“No, of course not,” he said. “I was just trying to explain how I got a ... an...”
“A hard-on,” Mindy said. “You got a hard-on rubbing up against me and feeling my body. And you don’t have to apologize for it. I would have been disappointed in you if you hadn’t gotten one.”
“Uh ... I see,” Greg said slowly, uncharacteristically at a loss for words.
Her smile got a little bigger, a little slyer. “I’m not trying to embarrass you, Greg, I just want things out in the open. And, in that vein, you should know that my panties were absolutely soaked when I took them off back in the wardrobe trailer.”
“Really?” he asked, feeling that flush of excitement overriding his embarrassment.
“Really,” she said sincerely. “I’m surprised you weren’t able to smell me though the door.”
Greg swallowed a large gulp of his scotch, hoping it would steady his nerves a little. She is going to invite me to go back to her room with her, his mind whispered to him. That’s where she is heading with this. He had no intention of taking her up on such an offer, of course, but things were going to get really awkward between them when he turned her down.
But she did not make the offer. She started talking about other things—neutral things like the upcoming SAG elections and their chances for Oscar nominations next year—almost without missing a beat.
They finished their drinks and then had one more apiece after that. And then they rode the elevator up to the top of the hotel.
“Good night, Greg,” Mindy said as she headed for her room. “See you in the morning.”
“Good night, Mindy,” he responded, watching her retreating derriere for a moment before heading to his own room.
He undressed and got into bed. His erection returned almost immediately and he took himself in hand, desperately needing some relief. It did not take him long to come up with a suitable fantasy.
Three nights later, in Coos Bay, it was closing in on eleven o’clock when Celia, dressed in a white robe and carrying a bottle of Napa Valley Merlot and a glass in her hand walked out onto the deck of the house for a little relaxation therapy in the hot tub. She was in a foul mood, worried, anxious, suspicious, and, even though she needed to get up in only seven hours to start getting ready for tomorrow’s session at the recording studio, she intended to drink the entire bottle of wine in her hands.
As she closed the door behind her and turned toward the tub, she noticed that, although the lights were out and it was pleasantly dark outside, the jets of the hot tub were running and the cover was thrown back. A closer look revealed that a shadowy human figure was already present in the water. She smelled the odor of burning marijuana overriding the smell of chlorinated water and sea breeze.
“Who is out here?” she called quietly. She had thought everyone else had gone to bed.
“It’s me,” a familiar voice said, just as quietly.
“Teach?” Celia asked, stepping a little closer.
“Yeah,” Laura said. “Just having a little wine ... and a little herb to go with it.”
She stepped closer still, until she was finally able to make out the redhead in the moonlight. She held a pipe in her hand. On the tray that hung over the tub was a bottle of chardonnay, a glass that was about half full, and a small baggie of marijuana.
“You okay, Teach?” Celia asked her carefully. Something in Laura’s voice sounded off.
“I guess,” she said, shrugging. “Are you coming in?”
“I was ... uh ... planning to,” Celia said, hefting her own bottle of wine. “Is that okay? If you’d rather be alone...”
“No, it’s okay,” Laura said. “Come on in.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure,” she said. “The water’s good. The bud is even better.”
Celia set her bottle of wine and her glass down on the other tray and then shrugged off her robe, leaving her in her red bikini. She then climbed up the steps and sat on the edge of the tub, letting her legs dip into the water. She felt the bite of the 101-degree liquid against her calves and then slid in a little further, to the first step, which submerged her hips and lower stomach but kept her chest exposed to the night air. “Ahhh,” she sighed. “That feels good.”
“I see you brought some wine of your own,” Laura said, nodding toward the bottle.
“It seemed a good night for it,” Celia said, unable to keep all of the sourness out of her tone.
Laura noticed this. “Having a bad night?” she asked.
“You could say that,” Celia told her. “How about you?”
“I’ve had better,” the redhead replied with a grunt. She held out the pipe and the lighter to Celia. “Want to try a hit? Sometimes it helps.”
“I’ve told you,” Celia said, “that stuff doesn’t do anything for me.”
“Everything deserves a second chance,” Laura said.
“How about a third one?” she asked bitterly.
Laura looked at her carefully. “Are we still talking about pot?” she asked.
Celia chuckled a little but did not answer the question. “All right,” she said. “Give me some of that shit.”
She took the pipe and the lighter from Laura’s hands and then inexpertly mated the two objects together in the fashion intended. The smoke went into her lungs, tasting strongly of skunk scent, and she coughed all of it back out.
“Hit it a little slower,” Laura advised. “And don’t inhale as much of it at one time. This is pretty potent stuff. You don’t need a whole bunch of it.”