Would it really have been worth the risk to take him up on his offer to let him come over and fix the wall? They both knew the wall was just an excuse to get him over to her place and into her pants. It seemed like a valid excuse, really.
He’d followed her down Eric’s driveway. When she tried to open the car door, he leaned his hip against it, blocking her from leaving. “Let me fix your wall,” he said. “I promise nothing will happen. Whether that guy on the phone is a boyfriend or not, I won’t touch you. Promise.” She’d tried to tell him that she’d already fixed it. The sarcastic rise of his dark brow told her he knew better.
Abigail looked over at the plaster mess splattered like a white blob on the wall. When he’d pulled her against his strong body, she’d lost the battle. He’d said, “Please, baby, let me fix this. Please.” She’d let him hug her for what seemed like forever, then pushed him aside and sped out of the cul-de-sac.
Abigail padded into the kitchen and poured another cup of coffee. She had to get back to the office, back into the swing of things.
Back to being lonely
. Thankfully, the phone didn’t ring with anymore creepy messages from her ex, and the only e-mails she’d received were updates from her mother regarding the Fourth of July party at the lake house. Panic shivered up her spine. Only two weeks remained until she had to make the flight to New York. The thought of skipping her parents’ party crossed her mind. The thought of her mother’s chastising rant also crossed her thoughts. She was afraid of her mother’s tirade, her father’s questions, her sister’s curiosity about why she was still single, returning to the same state as her ex. Driving past the cemetery.
Her life had been spread across a creek, feet treading from one stony fear to the next, trying to skip from birth to death. She was the one who’d coldcocked Jimmy Davidson in the fourth grade for calling her fat.
One stone
. She was the one who’d mowed lawns to buy her first car, a 1985 Camaro, without her father’s handout.
One stone
. She was the one who’d survived spilling a third of her blood onto the floor.
One stone
. Yes, she was capable of being more than a victim.
I am capable of living.
“Penelope, let’s get ready! We’re going to work today,” she said as she carried a fresh cup of coffee into the bathroom. “I’m not going to hide in here, waiting to die. Not anymore.”
* * * *
“You want to plan a party?” Ron asked as he sat in the chair across from Abigail’s desk. “What kind of party?”
Abigail flipped another glossy page in the costume catalog. “Something intimate. Just you and me and Eric and Sean. We could go camping. I’ve decided not to go to my parents’ annual cookout. I’m sure Carl would let us use his place. We could have hot dogs and s’mores.”
“You’re crushing on this guy really hard.”
Abigail snapped another page. “Don’t look at me like that,” she said. “He can come and help set things up, you know? I’m going to need help getting things ready and it’d be great if—”
Ron laughed. “Slow down, Abs. I get it. Do you want something like a hog roast or campfire stuff?”
“Campfire stuff, I think. Oh, let’s make it like a summer-camp theme. It’ll be fun. Carl’s got some tents we could borrow. We could play badminton and volleyball.”
“Well, all right, Ms. Moneybucks. I’ll call Thomas. We can use the money in petty cash. I’d think since you’re inviting Sean and me, and we’re employees, we could use business money.”
Abigail held up the magazine. A buxom blonde was sprawled on a chair dressed in a French maid’s costume. “I want to order this in all the sizes. Get them in black and pink. Oh, and I’m letting Thomas go. He couldn’t manage a checkbook, let alone my business. Hey, what about ribs?”
Ron stood up so fast the chair tipped back. “What the hell, Abigail? He’s been with us since the beginning. He’s a really nice guy.”
She went back to flipping through the catalog. “Yes, he is, but I have to do what’s best for the business. Sean checked my books and found out that he’s not such a wise accountant. He had my books in a mess. So I’ll pay for the party out of my personal account. And you get a raise.”
“Well,” Ron said, “sounds like Sean really knows his stuff. That college degree wasn’t just something pretty to put on his application.”
“No, he’s really smart, and he knows how to do accounting and investing. He can keep books, manage accounts, and even put together different business plans. He’s really amazing. What? Why are you smiling like that?”
“Oh, no reason,” Ron said as he rounded the desk to plant a kiss on the top of her head. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’ve got a major crush on our new performer.”
Abigail swatted at his arm. “Shut up. I do not. He’s just… He’s really nice and smart. That’s all.”
“Nice and smart—right. That goofy grin on your face has nothing to do with his killer smile and kick-ass abs. Oh, and let’s not forget his edible bubble butt. No, it couldn’t be those things!”
Abigail tossed the catalog toward the door where Ron was heading. “Stop it!”
Ron caught the catalog. “I’ll order the outfits online and get the supplies in order. I left the phone messages on your desk. That guy called again wanting to set up an interview. We could really use more bodies for the scenes. What do you want me to tell him?”
Abigail sighed. She wasn’t quite ready to jump back into everything just yet. “Tell him the Monday after the Fourth. That’s only a little over two weeks away. He can wait. Are there any shoots going on here today?”
“Two in the studios, one two-guys-on-one-girl, and Sean’s.”
“Sean’s?”
Ron rolled up the catalog and shifted it from one hand to the other. “Yes, he added one on this week.”
Abigail knew he was stalling. “What did he add on?”
“Abs, I think you should just relax, kick back here in the office. Look,” he said and pointed down to the pink bed where Penelope was chewing on a bone. “Penelope is already comfortable.”
“Ron, what scene is he doing?”
“Let me get you some hot tea. We can go out for lunch.”
“Goddamn it, Ron! What scene is Sean doing today?”
“Abigail…”
Abigail felt her stomach burn. The toast she had for breakfast was probably going to come up, but she had to see for herself what Sean was doing. What had he agreed to that had Ron so nervous for her to find out? “Move, Ron. Get out of my way!”
“Abigail!”
The
clickity-clack
of Penelope’s claws followed her down the hall. She pushed open the door leading to the main floor. The largest studio was at the back of the warehouse, while the two smaller ones were situated on either side of the large building. As she walked through the warehouse, two performers sat on one of the many couches, rehearsing their lines. She gave a quick wave and continued on her way, Penelope in tow.
“Abigail!” Ron yelled from behind her.
One of the studio doors was open where Stacy, the staging girl, was prepping the room for a scene. The other door was closed with a sign taped on the outside.
“Filming, my ass,” she whispered and turned the knob.
SEAN COULDN’T SEE a damn thing but heard Carl just fine when he told Camilla, the other performer, to kneel. The scene called for him to be blindfolded and handcuffed to a chair. It took thirty minutes for him to get his nerves under control enough to sit in the chair. This was going to be his first scene that wasn’t a solo or a group of guys masturbating. This was different. When the pretty African-American woman leaned against him to fasten the silky blindfold, he freaked and nearly jumped out of the chair.
Sure, the woman was stunningly gorgeous with her caramel skin and kinky curls hanging in ringlets. Her long legs brought her eye to eye with him when she wrapped her arm around his shoulders, trying to calm his breathing.
“It’s okay, sweetie,” she’d said.
He smiled. Abigail had said he was shorter than she’d expected. This supermodel made him look like a shrimp.
Now the cool metal of the handcuffs almost soothed him in the self-imposed darkness. Slender fingers pressed into his naked thighs. Camilla had moved her narrow hips between his legs.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
“Shh, it’s okay, sweetie. Nothing’s going to happen that you don’t want. I’ll go slow. Breathe in and out. That’s it. I’ve done this a million times. Just relax and enjoy this. Wow, Sean,” she whispered so only he could hear her, “you’re built like a horse. I’m going to enjoy this. I can’t believe they’re going to pay me to suck on you.”
“Pl-Please don’t say anything,” he whispered back. “I can’t…I can’t concentrate.” He felt warm fingers creep up the inside of his thighs. “Wait, I thought you were just going to jack me off.” If she had other plans, well, shit, he didn’t need a new TV that bad.
“That’s the plan, but I thought maybe after we could, you know?”
Sean slid his ass against the back of the chair. “No, that’s okay. I only want to do what the order was for.”
“All right, honey. Don’t panic. It’s okay. I’ll do what you’re comfortable with.”
Sean felt his shoulders ease as he focused on the images dancing behind the blindfold…
* * * *
Soft auburn hair spread on a white pillow case. “Hey, baby, I’ve been waiting for you. Come to bed.” A soft giggle tickles his ear. “Come on, silly, I want you to kiss me. Did you turn off the lights?”
“Yes. Lights off, coffeemaker set, and doors locked.”
The sheets are cool as his tired body slides into bed. Their bed. “I missed you today,” she says as she glides her arm over his chest, using her tiny fingertips to explore his nipple. She giggles again. “You like when I do that, don’t you?”
He rolls over and pulls her soft body against his own. He wore his underwear to bed because it had been a long day at the office. She’d been late getting home from a shoot. They were tired. Her little fingers continue to tease the hard nub, making him want to itch where she was playing. “You know I do.”
She wears one of his T-shirts to bed. He loves when she does that. “I want to feel you.” He tilts his hips so she can slide her hand into his underwear. “I love your cock.”
He smiles because that’s what he always does when she teases him. “It loves you.”
Her hand feels like a hot vise as it strokes his hard cock. He hasn’t taken a shower. She doesn’t care. She never does. The pleasure is about feeling him in her hot little hand. She loves how big he is. He knows because she tells him over and over. “I love how it gets so thick in my hand. It makes me so wet.”
He knows if he slides his hand into her pretty white panties, her shaved pussy will be dripping for him. He tries to reach down, but she shakes her head, telling him no. “I want to touch you, baby,” he says.
“No, just lie back. Let me stroke you. Give me this, Sean. Give me your big cock.”
“Goddamn, baby. Harder, stroke it harder.”
Her hand moves faster, forcing his balls to tuck up into his body. He’s going to give her what she wants. His fists clench, wanting to reach for his woman. With each tug, his hips thrust to meet the tight grip of her hand. “Come for me, Sean,” she pleads. “I want you to come for me…”
* * * *
“God, Abigail! Yes, God, you feel so fucking good. Baby girl, don’t stop. Fuck!” Sean felt his spine tighten, springing his hips forward. “Abigail!” He came into the hand pumping his shaft. A hard gasp resonated in his ear.
Abigail!
“Get this fucking blindfold off me. Now.”
The light blasted his eyes, forcing him to blink. Soft auburn hair came into focus. A yelp shifted his glance down. It was Penelope.
Oh God.
“C-Carl, I’m sorry to interrupt. I was just…um, just wondering if you had a minute after the shoot. I need to see you before you leave today.”
How long had she been standing there? He looked down at Camilla, who’d grabbed a towel and started wiping her hands. Stacy, the woman who’d set up the scene, was unlocking the handcuffs. The moment the metal clicked open, his hands sprang to hide his dick from Abigail. He didn’t want her to see him like this. The damage was done. Abigail had obviously watched him come with Camilla’s experienced hands. The expression on her pretty face gave him no fucking clue as to what was going through her head.
“Hi, Camilla,” Abigail said. “I-I hope I didn’t mess up the scene.”
Carl fingered the fat cigar hanging from the side of his mouth. “No worries, boss lady,” he said in his bellowing voice. “We got the shots we needed. Sean’s a great performer. However, Sean? Do you think you could do a solo real quick? You were mumbling something, and you yelled out Abigail’s name, so we need to do some splices to cut that stuff out.”
Sean wanted to sink through the fucking chair. “Yeah, sure,” he mumbled. He was damn sure his face wasn’t the only body part that was bloodred from embarrassment.
“I’m planning a get-together,” Abigail blurted out. “Well, Ron and I are planning it. Sean’s invited. There’s going to be s’mores and camping and volleyball.”
“That sounds great, boss lady, but we’re burning daylight here.” Carl went back to adjusting something on the camera.
“Oh yeah. Sure. Sorry. Come on, Penelope.”
The dog ran up to Sean’s chair. “Hey, girl.” He leaned over the side and gave her ear a good scratch. “What have you been up to?”
“She’s been living under the dining-room table,” Abigail said from above him.
Keeping one hand over his crotch, he petted Penelope with the other. “She’ll come around eventually.”
Abigail picked at her fingernail. “I hope so.”
“She just needs some patience and a gentle touch. That’s all.”
She looked to Carl, then back down at the dog. “It sounds so simple.”
“It could be.”
Her sad smile made him want to pull her onto his lap. Fuck the camera. Sean watched as Abigail sashayed her cute round ass out the door. When the latch clicked, he turned back to Carl. “Let’s get this done. I’ve got a wall to fix.”
* * * *
Abigail stuffed another tank top into the duffel bag sitting on the bed before padding back into the bathroom to grab the tube of travel toothpaste. She stepped into the dining room and peeked at her handiwork on the kitchen wall. The white blob of drywall mud stared back at her—a constant reminder of how mad Sean could get, but also a reminder of the tile she needed to fix in the bathroom.