Holding the yapping ball of fur in her arms, she prances up to me. All eyes are on the statuesque beauty. She looks stunning, dressed in a tight hot pink sweater dress with matching thigh-high suede boots, her platinum hair cascading over her shoulders in perfect, soft waves. The little white dog is wearing a matching outfit—a same shade pink sweater along with a bow in his hair and a pink rhinestone-studded collar. An unsettling thought crosses my mind—shit, maybe they’re diamonds. I wouldn’t put that past my extravagant fiancée or to put the astronomical charge on my credit card.
“What are you doing here?” I snap, avoiding eye contact with the beast.
Katrina holds Zoey in her rabid gaze. “What’s she doing here?”
Smiling, Zoey holds her own. “Brandon invited me.”
Another PA lopes up to us with a last call for donuts. He’s holding a box with the remaining few. Zoey surveys them.
“Katrina, you should help yourself to one before they run out.”
“Puh-lease. Donuts are for peasants.” She directs her snide comment at Zoey and then smacks her mouth on mine. Coated in a bright pink lipstick, her billowy lips taste nothing like Zoey’s. I pull away. Zoey stares at her icily.
Clutching the ravenous looking dog in the crook of one arm, Katrina runs a long manicured finger around my lips. “I’m sorry, darling. I got lipstick on you.”
I grit my teeth and don’t move as she continues.
“Since I wasn’t shooting today, I thought I should come by and wish you the best of luck on your first day back on the set. Plus, I really wanted you to meet Gucci. I just know you’re going to fall in love with him.”
Him? By now, all the crew members have taken notice of Katrina and her new pretty in pink cross-dresser dog. Or should I say, our new dog? Many have gathered around to congratulate her on our engagement (and glimpse the rock I gave her) and to admire the fluffy designer mutt. Everyone’s a sucker for a cute dog. Being the center of attention, America’s It Girl is in her glory—with “It Dog.”
“Darling, why don’t you pet him?” she purrs.
I want to bark at my fiancée. Tell her to get the hell out of the studio and take the damn dog with her. But with all these people around us, it sure won’t look good to have a fight. Or for it to get out that I don’t like dogs. That’s just not the kind of publicity I need right now. Besides, I love dogs. I had a Chocolate Lab growing up. I just don’t like little yappy ones.
Hesitantly, I lower my hand to the dog’s head, but as I’m about to touch down, the mongrel growls and bares his tiny razor-sharp teeth. With a vicious snap, he almost takes off my fingers. I yank them away just in time.
“Jesus,” I mutter under my breath, happy to have my digits intact.
“Brandon, are you okay?” asks Zoey.
Katrina shoots Zoey another predatory look and then shifts her attention to me.
“Darling, he just has to get to know you better.” She makes goo-goo eyes at the monster. “You’re a very sweet little dog, right baby boy?” She kisses the still growling beast on his head, leaving an outline of her pink lips on his white fur.
The PA named Janine impatiently butts in. “Brandon, we’ve got to go. It’s getting late.”
“Katrina, I have to get ready,” I say, happy to have an excuse to get away from her. The hostile dog growls at me again. I’ve had it. This time I growl back. It whimpers. Ha! I’ll show the furry little beast who’s the alpha male around this joint.
Katrina fires me a dirty look and comforts the shaking pup. “Poor baby, don’t let him scare you.”
Zoey cups her mouth to stifle her laughter. We exchange an eye roll. Score one for me.
Five minutes later, I’m back on the set. I’m wearing a bathrobe, monogrammed with my name, but beneath it I’m stark naked except for a flesh-colored cock sock. Jewel, in a similar bathrobe, joins me. Her hair coiffed, she looks ready to get started.
I spot Zoey. I’ve had a PA set her up in my folding chair by the director’s camera. I’ve told her the best way to watch the filming is on his monitor. Numerous cameras will be in play to capture different angles, including an overhead one on a crane and a handheld one for close-ups, but the director’s monitor captures the first cameraman’s master shot. In editing, they’ll splice together the various angles to make the scene dynamic and then later in post add sound effects and music.
Niall Davies, the episode’s wiry director, strides up to us. In addition to being the show’s Emmy-winning primary director, he’s married to Jewel, my co-star. They met on the set.
“Ready to rehearse the scene, my man?” he asks in his charming British accent.
“I don’t need to rehearse it. I’ve got it nailed.” I shoot Zoey a look. Our eyes connect. Smiling, she gives me a good luck thumbs up. Smiling back, I suddenly realize Katrina’s nowhere in sight. Maybe she took the damn dog for a walk. Just as well. The last thing I need is for the mutt to start yapping in the middle of my scene.
Niall turns to his wife. “Are you all right with that, gorgeous?”
Jewel smiles. “Let’s go for it, baby.”
Stripping off our bathrobes, we step into the already steamed up shower. Water sprays from the many overhead jets. In seconds, we’re soaked and in position.
“Quiet on the set,” shouts out the first AD.
The next three words are music to my ears. It’s as if I’ve heard them my entire life. Is my memory coming back?
“Lights. Camera. Action!”
Zoey
“Lights! Camera! Action!”
The words echo in my ears. I’m so wet I may stain Brandon’s canvas chair. When I first saw Brandon in the raw—just seconds ago—my jaw crashed to the floor and my heart almost rocketed out of my chest.
I’ve seen him in Speedos and tight jeans and I’ve given him massages in his boxers, but nothing’s prepared me for the sight of his manliness full on. Sure, he’s wearing some kind of flesh-colored sheath that wraps around his genitals like a bag of leprechaun’s gold, but it doesn’t camouflage his size. Holy mother of God! I mean, I knew he was endowed when I felt his hardness against me in the shower. But not this big. And his enormity is sans an erection.
Still in a state of shock, I soak in the rest of his body. It’s as if he’s been sculpted by an Italian master. A seamless combination of lean muscle and bronze with washboard abs, a perfect pelvic-V, long worked-out legs, and a chiseled ass that belongs in a museum. As the cameras start rolling, my temperature rises and hot tingles storm my body. I’m throbbing so hard between my legs I can hear it.
I can’t keep my eyes off him. My pupils dart back and forth between the director’s monitor and the set, a near replica of Brandon’s home bathroom. It’s bathed in a cloud of steam and sensually lit in a way that makes Brandon and Jewel glow like two ethereal lovers. Like the stars they are.
Under the powerful spray, Brandon and Jewel magically transform into the characters they play—CIA agent Kurt Kussler and his beloved wife Alisha. Alit with love and lust, Brandon holds his co-star in his arms just as he held me. After he tells her how sexy she is, he fondles her perfect, nipple-covered tits and nuzzles her long, slender neck. I relive every moment, every word. New sensations overtake me, both emotionally and physically. An unexpected bolt of envy shoots through me. Brandon and Jewel look so beautiful together. So comfortable in their skin; so comfortable with their nudity. So oblivious to the cameramen surrounding them. Passion dances in their eyes as the water pounds them. Their flesh glistens. The steam intensifies. I know they’re only acting, but every word, every action seems so real. I wonder—did Brandon ever fuck Jewel? With her blond goddess looks, she’s just his type. Are they possibly drawing from experience?
The thought fades as I watch the scene unfold on the monitor. I hardly blink my eyes as I glom on to every word. I know them so well they’re forming on my lips, and I hear myself saying them in my head. As Brandon sensuously touches Jewel in all the places he touched me, my breathing grows shallow. His moans and groans sing in my ears, causing a fresh rush of hot tingles to swarm me. I can’t stop reliving every minute of my shower with Brandon.