Authors: Kelly Favor
She couldn’t believe it. She was going into another place, the place she went when her body was completely unselfconscious and she was taken over by pure sexual bliss.
“Fuck me, Hunter. I want you. Please, Hunter.”
“I’m going to, Kallie. Be patient.” He continued to work his way inside. “There we go,” he sighed.
Suddenly, it was as though she’d loosened up her back entrance—like she’d gotten wider or he’d gotten somehow more slippery. Whatever it was, he magically slipped the rest of the way in, and she could feel him back there, stiff and hard—
penetrating her deeply.
“Is it too much?” he whispered. “Just tell me.”
“No,” she said, shaking her head as she focused on just enjoying it.
She could feel his body against hers, shaking now with intense delight as he took her anally. He began pumping in and out, slowly at first, but then gaining in confidence.
“Please, I want everything—I want you to empty your cock inside me,” she told him.
“No one has ever been able to take me this way,” he told her. “Not like this.”
“I told you I’d do anything.”
His hands slid around to her breasts, then down to her wet and moist entrance. He began fingering her clit while he fucked her anally, his shaft moving in and out seamlessly.
Kallie felt herself come, giving into the momentum and the dirtiness of it all.
As she came, she felt Hunter giving in as well. “I’m going to come, too,” he gasped.
“Come inside me—inside me,” she pressed.
“Okay. Okay then.” He started to come. She could feel him spurting inside, and then he started to pull out and spurts of semen roped against her anus. “I’m going in again,” he told her.
“Yes,” she said, grinning now, knowing that she could handle him.
He was still coming as he once more penetrated her anus, flooding her with his semen. He slid in and out, and she could feel him—hot and wet and slippery as he managed to fuck her more still.
Finally, they were done, completely spent and exhausted.
“You’ve surprised me yet again,” he told her.
“That’s the idea. I can’t ever be too predictable.” She smiled.
“What’s gotten into you?” he said. “How did you do all of that? Have you been practicing or something?”
“No. Maybe it’s just knowing that we’re in love.”
He looked into her eyes, then. “I do love you, even though I’m completely fucked up.”
“You’re not completely fucked up,” she said. “You’re just mostly fucked up.”
Hunter laughed and shook his head. “I shouldn’t let you get away with that kind of talk, but I can’t resist you Kallie.”
She smiled again. “Didn’t I tell you things would be better if you’d just let me in a little bit?”
His eyes widened. “So this is what you meant? Why didn’t you just say so? I would’ve signed on the dotted line that first day we met.”
She playfully slapped his shoulder. “Don’t be a jerk, Hunter. I’m serious. Isn’t this better? Aren’t we better like this?”
He nodded, but his expression grew pensive. “I just wonder when I’m going to screw it all up and lose you again.”
“You’re not going to. I won’t let you.”
He shook his head sadly. “I’m too damaged. Sometimes, I can almost convince myself that I might be normal. Sometimes, I think I might really be able to get past…everything.”
She wanted to ask him what had happened to him, what it was that he didn’t think he could get past. But she was afraid. He had already given in on so many accounts, given up so much for her, and she sensed that at any time he might withdraw again and go away for good.
Kallie didn’t press him to tell her more details. Instead, she stroked his hair. “I love you, Hunter. And I won’t give up on you, even if you’ve given up on yourself.”
“I don’t deserve you,” he replied.
“You don’t deserve what you’re doing to yourself,” she told him.
“What does that even mean?”
“It means, stop making everything so difficult. Let’s just enjoy what we have.”
He smiled. “Okay. I’ll try.”
***
That night, Hunter held her close. Periodically, Kallie would wake up—
sometimes from a nightmare—and find herself wrapped in Hunter’s strong, protective arms. He was like a shield—he was her armor. The moment she awoke and found herself safely in his grasp, Kallie would feel a surge of joy and warmth in her body.
So this is what it’s like to be loved, she thought.
And once or twice, Hunter was also woken by her stirrings, and he wasn’t bothered or annoyed in the least. Instead, he just told her over and over again that she was the only thing that mattered now, and that he would do anything for her.
Near the end of the night, Kallie was finally able to sleep deeply and there were no more bad dreams.
She didn’t notice Hunter getting up and leaving the bedroom, but when she snapped awake again, it was after eight in the morning. Sun was streaming through the windows in large beams of light that made the whole room look bright and welcoming.
Kallie yawned and stretched. She smiled, picturing the love she’d felt throughout the evening. That was what she wanted—it was all she really needed. She didn’t need Hunter’s money, or whatever fame he might possess, and at the end of the day she didn’t even care if he lost his looks.
She just wanted him to hold her and look at her with eyes that told her she was the only one, and there would never be another.
That was the look she’d seen pass between Nicole and Red so many times since she’d begun to stay with them.
Speaking of which, Kallie thought—she needed to get a new phone to replace her old one so she could check in more regularly with Nicole. It wasn’t right to just leave her and Red hanging high and dry with a newborn baby and a crazy mother-in-law.
Kallie got out of bed and hopped downstairs with her crutches, wearing nothing but a long t-shirt. When she got down to the first floor, she found Hunter in his study, typing away.
“Morning!” she said cheerily, balancing on her crutches and waiting for his response.
He glared back at her over his shoulder, grunting something unintelligible. His eyes looked bloodshot and his hair was tousled.
How long has he been awake and working? She wondered, backing away from the study, and heading for the kitchen.
Most of her good cheer had evaporated by the time she’d hobbled to the kitchen.
It was hard enough making coffee on crutches, with a bad ankle—but worse was the fact that Hunter seemed to have reverted back to his old self already.
Kallie made herself a cup of coffee and drank some, trying not to let herself get too down about Hunter’s morning mood. Maybe he was simply more of a night person, she thought.
The coffee was strong and good. She sat with her hurt leg propped up on another chair and sipped from her cup, reading the front page of the New York Times, which had been left on the table.
Not long after that, she grew restless and worked her way down the hallway towards his study again. The door was only partly ajar and she could see him hunched over his computer, furiously typing away.
Across the hall, another door was open and she noticed there were reams and reams of paper stacked inside. It looked like some sort of writer’s supply closet or something. As she crutched her way closer to it, she noticed that the stacks of paper were not blank sheets.
They were manuscripts.
She drew close enough to pick one up and Hunter spun around in his chair.
“What are you doing now?”
She glanced at the front sheet. It said:
CRITICAL MASS
by Roger Starr
Beneath the name, on the lower left-hand corner of the page, was contact info.
“What’s this?” she asked. All the manuscripts were different, with different titles and written apparently by different people.
Hunter sighed. “That’s private. Why are you snooping again?”
“I’m not snooping. Just a little hint—if you don’t want me to see something, don’t leave it out in the open for me to see it.” She slammed the manuscript down on top of the pile. Then she started off, as quickly as her crutches could take her.
“Hold on—hold on.” Hunter came running after her. “Wait a second, Kallie.”
She wouldn’t look at him. “Will you please let me go?” she said. “I don’t feel like having a conversation with you at the moment.”
“Hey, I’m sorry,” he said, coming around in front of her. “I just—I get weird when I’m trying to write.”
“That’s not my problem. Close your stupid office door then.” She felt tears (once again) near the surface and fought them back.
“You’re right, it’s not your problem. I’m sorry I was being a dick.”
“Sorry isn’t meaningful if you just keep doing the same thing over and over again.”
He nodded. “You’re right. It’s just—“ he sighed. “Those things—the ones you saw in that closet—they’re scripts. Screenplays.”
She turned and looked back at all of them. “There must be hundreds.”
He grinned. “I have another five or six boxes of them upstairs. It’s my private hell—my slush pile.”
“What’s that?” she asked, her curiosity momentarily causing her to forget her anger.
“A slush pile is the random slush that gets sent my way by various agents, writers, producers, directors. I get tons of scripts every month and it’s impossible to keep up with it all.” He brushed the hair back from his forehead and smiled. “So I don’t keep up with it—I stopped even trying. And the piles just grow. And grow.”
Suddenly, Kallie had an idea. “Could I read some of those scripts—your slush pile scripts?”
He shrugged and laughed. “Why?”
“I don’t know. You’re in your office working and I don’t have much to do.”
He thought about it for a moment, and then he laughed and nodded. “Sure, you can read some scripts. In fact, you could even do some coverage if you want.”
“Coverage?”
“Well, typically my script readers make notes about the plot, what works and doesn’t work in the screenplay, so that I can get a quick idea about it and whether or not there’s anything worth reading for myself. Maybe I’ll like something enough to have the writer revise it and show it to me again, that sort of thing.”
“I could try,” she said, not sure if the idea truly appealed to her, or if she just wanted to do it to get closer to Hunter.
“Grab a red pen in that drawer down there,” he told her, pointing. “Grab any script, and then just tell me what you feel about it. Write it all down.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“You can’t be any worse than the clowns who usually read those things. I had to fire ninety-nine percent of my readers because they were completely useless.”
Hunter went back to his study and Kallie took a pen and a screenplay, limping to the TV room to settle on the couch and try to try her hand at being Hunter’s script reader.
***
It turned out Kallie enjoyed reading scripts.
At least, she enjoyed reading the screenplay she’d grabbed from the top of Hunter’s pile—and not because it was a particularly well-written movie, either. There was just something fun and exciting about reading something that could potentially make it on the big screen someday, with real actors and actresses playing the roles.
Kallie had always loved movies, and although she wasn’t very familiar with the odd format that screenplays were written in, it didn’t take her long to fall into the groove.
As she went along, she made notes in the margins, like a teacher grading a student. It didn’t take a very long time to read through her first screenplay. It was only around ninety pages in length, so she finished it in just a couple of hours. Then she flipped to the back page, and wrote a quick synopsis of the story with some of her major thoughts and feelings about how it could be improved.
When she was done, she looked at her own handiwork and felt a twinge of embarrassment.
Hunter’s going to think this was a waste of time. He’s going to tell you not to
bother doing this anymore, because you’re no good at it.
She knew she was being silly, but the truth was that she cared what Hunter thought about her. She wanted to please him, wanted to show him that she was more than just a sexual being.
You don’t have anything to prove, she told herself.
But she felt like she still had something to prove. Maybe it was wrong, but it was how she felt.
Okay, so maybe I’ll do coverage on another script. I can only get better at this.
She left the finished screenplay on the table and went back to the pile and grabbed another one. As she was hobbling back to the couch to start the next one, the doorbell rang.
She jumped, startled by the sound as it echoed throughout the house.
Hunter appeared shortly thereafter, looking dismayed. “Wait here,” he said, moving to the door and peering out the window beside it.
“Fuck,” he swore under his breath.
“What?”
“It’s that detective again,” he said, shaking his head. “This can’t be good.”
“Maybe he’s found a lead.”
“I highly doubt that.” Hunter opened the door and greeted Detective Phillips with about as much friendliness as he would have shown to a Jehovah’s Witness.
“Mind if I come in for a moment?” the detective asked.
Hunter stood there, blocking the doorway. “Do you have something new to tell us?”
Detective Phillips peered around Hunter and saw Kallie standing in the hall. He nodded to her—then looked at Hunter. “I’d like to catch you up to date on the investigation so far. There have been a few developments.”
The three of them went to the terrace and sat down at the small table. It was nice outside, and there was a steady wind, but it wasn’t too cool.
“How are you feeling, Kallie?” Phillips asked. Today, he was dressed in a nice blue suit with a blue and gold tie. He looked somehow more stern and intimidating than he had last time—but no flash of gun as he sat down on this occasion.
“I’m doing well,” she said, nodding.
“You look better.”
“She’s got a great nurse,” Hunter said, winking at Kallie.
“Do you have a nurse coming in then?”