The cast party.
The other chapters of this story can be found here.
I milled around the cast party, sipping my Mercury mojito and willing it to work faster. The show had been a stunning success, and everyone was all smiles… now.
But as I flitted from person to person, I couldn’t help but reflect on the past two months.
“I need you,” my best friend texted me, eight weeks ago.
“I know, baby. Ready for my mouth on your sweet pussy?” I typed back. I was only half joking, and I knew what her answer would be. But how could I have passed up an opening like that?
“Not that, lol. Dirty girl.”
I imagined her cute blush, and it made me smile.
“I need your help to put on a musical. Help me not go crazy working with these people,” she replied. “You can help me stage manage.”
It had been ages since I had done any theater — not since the costuming incident of 2009 — but there was no way I was going to say no. I could never say no to her. “Of course I’ll help, Ivy.”
The rum heated my throat as I took another sip.
Oh yeah, she had needed help, all right. I remembered the production meetings, and how the director talked to her — dismissive, entitled, downright hostile. I remembered holding her hand, my fingers rubbing over her knuckles, as she cried.
Anger still burned in the pit of my stomach. I wanted to fucking slash their tires.
How dare they make her cry.
And now I had to sit at this goddamn party and keep smiling.
Always the woman with impeccable timing, Ivy sidled up to me, wrapping her arm around my waist. “How’s it going?”
“Talking myself out of an act of violence.” I took another sip of my drink.
“Honey, it’s okay. Really, I’m fine. I’m just so glad you were here to help me.” She squeezed against me. “Thank you. I really couldn’t have done this without you.”
I took a deep breath. There is no Netflix in prison. There is no Netflix in prison. Some of my anger seeped away. “It just hurts to see people be mean to you. I tolerate it only because I know this is important to you. But it’s not right, and you know it.”
“I know, but it’s fine. It’s over, the show was great, and now we don’t ever have to do this again.”
I nodded, watching one of the actors mingle at the other end of the room. He’s fucking hot. A tiny shiver ran down my body, just thinking about him.
Ivy leaned up against my ear, her gaze following mine to the man across the room. “Looking at Rico? Every time I see him, I swear I have to change my panties.”
Now it was my turn to blush. “I know. I watched you practically climb him backstage.”
Gotta love theater.
“Tell me you don’t want to do exactly the same thing.” She batted her eyelashes at me.
I ground my jaw. “He’s hotter than fuck. You’re not wrong.” I poured the last of my drink between my lips, thinking about all the places I’d like to have rather put my lips on his body. “What’s his story? He was a last-minute addition to the show.”
“He plays his own gigs. I heard he’s quite the popular boy at the bar.”
So, a rock star — out of my league. Got it.
“Hmm,” I responded noncommittally. I pictured him onstage; an involuntary noise escaped my throat as I remembered the set of his body, his sexy-as-fuck saunter, the power of his voice. My pussy clenched. “I guess that doesn’t surprise me. He’s… certainly something else.”
“He sure as hell is. You should go fuck him.”
I turned to look at her, as a mask of innocence washed over her face. I wanted to smack it off of her. “What? No, absolutely not. No.”
But fuck, I want to.
Ivy pouted. “Well, I can’t do it. My husband would kill me.”
I gave her the look the comment deserved, then sighed. “He’s too fucking beautiful. And talented. This guy is so far out of my league. Not to mention, you know… my husband.”
Now it was her turn to give me a look. “Stop it. You’re beautiful. And your husband gets off on you fucking other guys.”
“No, he gets off on me being happy. That’s why he gets to be the husband. Plus he’s got that sweet side piece now, so that helps.”
“Sometimes I really don’t understand you two.” She looked wistful.
I shrugged and squeezed her hips against mine. This wasn’t the first time we had had some version of this discussion, and I was sure it wouldn’t be the last.
“My point stands, though,” she continued. “Go get your ass over there. I know you want to.”
Anxiety washed through my veins. Did I? Yes. Definitely yes.
You know what? to hell with it.
I did want it.
Maybe we don’t need to fuck, per se. Maybe we can just go out to lunch, and I could just make heart eyes at him… And then take care of myself at home later. With some plastic and my imagination.
Yes. Yeah, that’s a much safer plan.
I don’t need to be an uncontrollable slut. We can play this cool.
I can be cool. …Probably. Maybe.
I crossed the room, my heart fluttering in my chest. His latest female companion had gotten up from the couch, leaving me a perfect opportunity to slide in next to him. “Hey.”
“Hey,” he said, in that languid voice that made me… feel things.
I bit my lip. Fuck.
Be cool, bitch. Just be cool.
I worked hard at controlling my breathing. I’m pretty sure I failed.
“Hey, so…” I started, willing myself to create the words in the air between us. “So, I just wanted to, um… tell you that I think you’re…” I trailed off, letting out a too-shaky breath. “Sorry, I’m pretty shy, I don’t normally do this. But if you, like, wanted to get lunch some day, that would, like… be awesome.”
Inwardly, I cringed. Star-struck bimbo. Awesome. Good start.
A smile spread across his face, and his speckled blue eyes sparkled. “Yeah. Yeah, fuck that’d be great. I think you already have my number from this play thing, so just text me.”
I blinked; I guess a part of me didn’t think this would actually work.
“Oh, shit, I guess I do.” I couldn’t stop the blush from crawling up my cheeks. Fuck me.
His smile broadened. “Good. And it’s cool that you stepped out of your comfort zone to ask.” He laid the full weight of his gaze on me.
Words. His fucking words slayed me. It was such an odd and genuine thing to say. As a shy girl with a communication fetish, that one sentence undid me. Why? I don’t know. It seemed like such a small thing, but fuck.
I laughed nervously, praying that my blush would fade. Somehow, I didn’t think that was going to happen.
I want you to take me out of my comfort zone, Rico. Make me blush. Make it worse. Show me all the things that your body can do. Let me show you all the things I can do.
No. Fucking hell. It’s just lunch.
Just lunch. I can handle lunch with this beautiful man. I got it.
Right. Of course.
What’s the worst that can happen?
Photo by Alexander Krivitskiy on Unsplash