Behind the Scenes

by Christina C Jones

  I sighed.

  Of course she was thinking about this practically – and that was important. The damage would be mitigated, the story turned into something else to shift attention, all that. Most likely, this wouldn’t affect the show.

  If only that was the sole consideration.

  “Hey,” she spoke up, reaching her foot out to nudge my leg. “You kinda zoned out on me just now… I hope you’re not really taking this shit to heart.”

  “How can I not?” I shrugged. “This has been my worst fear, since I pushed forward to actually do this. I’m already getting the fucking label, just the burnout kid of a Hollywood legend trying to be something I’m not.”

  “That’s a lie, though,” Logan countered, frowning. “Like, flat out. I’ll say it again, Pierre – you are whole. With some fleshing out to do still, yeah, but you are so much more than this bullshit ‘article’ or misleading pictures. And I believe you know that. Maybe you didn’t before you started this, but with all we’ve done – all you have done… you gonna sit in my face and tell me the lie that you believe this over what you see in the mirror?”

  I shook my head. “Nah. I mean… I know what I’ve accomplished. I know what I’ve done. I’m still working out the who I am part, but… I know it’s not what they’re saying. But knowing the truth doesn’t make the lie less irritating, or significant. I don’t want those labels – I don’t want people thinking that shit about me.”

  “Fuck what they think.” Logan slid more in my direction, her brows pulled together in a scowl as she repeated. “Fuck what they think. Fuck them, fuck Sienna, and fuck anybody else who sees that bullshit and think it still defines you. It doesn’t! And look, I know it’s easy for me to sit here and say oh don’t worry about when the headline isn’t about me. I know it’s different for you, it’s deeper. But you’re not who they say you are – you are who you are. There’s always going to be someone who wants you to be still, and not be more or different than what they expected. You can’t affect that. What you can do, is keep thriving. Keep working, stay sober, maintain your focus. Do not give these words the power to shake you up.”

  She… was right.

  Logically, I understood that – that not letting this shit sway me was absolutely paramount, bigger than anything.

  But it was hard.

  “Look,” Logan said, pulling my attention again to show me something on her phone. “I was coming to tell you this anyway, but then Anthony was here, and… whatever. Your piece in Sugar&Spice goes live at the end of the week in digital, and it’ll be in the print version next month. You look at this, and tell me what is more representative – you looking good as fuck in a respected magazine that honors your legacy and highlights you as someone to look out for or some bullshit tabloid that has to use pictures of somebody who isn’t who you are anymore?”

  I took the phone from her to scroll through the pictures and look at the article. And man… those pictures really were hard as fuck. The article wasn’t a full-blown profile or anything, just a quick piece, but still effective. It did touch on my alcoholism, but my current sobriety was presented as the triumph it was, not some tenuous thing I was barely holding on to.

  A completely different tone.

  “For everybody working against you, with nothing but negative things to say… there are just as many, if not loads more, who are on your side. We believe in you, Pierre. And I know you believe in you. Everything else? That’s just noise.”

  I thought about that for a bit, then nodded, mentally committing to seeing this shit her way – or at least, trying.

  Trying my damndest.

  “Aiight, Ms. Motivation,” I teased, standing up. “How we go from me trying to get you to brush shit off, to you having to tell me?”

  Still seated on my desk, Logan coyly arched her back. “I am quite good at that, aren’t I? I like to think it’s a specialty of mine.”

  “You are full of those, aren’t you?”

  “I really do try.” She planted her hands on either side of herself on the desk as I moved to stand in front of her. Tipping her head back, she stared up to meet my eyes. “What?”

  “You know you’re too good for that nigga right?” I asked her, gesturing toward the forgotten flowers on the desk.

  She let off a dry laugh. “It’s not… serious. Not yet.”

  “Not ever,” I countered, and she raised an eyebrow.

  “Maybe not. But you said that like you know something I don’t.”

  “Because I do,” I said, reaching to play with the little ties on the side of her dress.

  She glanced at my hands, then back up to match my gaze. “What’s that?”

  That I’m about to do what I threatened months ago.

  I didn’t say it out loud though – I kissed her, and hoped she’d get the message. Unlike last time, I didn’t pull back from it either.

  And I wouldn’t be saying I was sorry.

  Because I wasn’t.

  Especially since she wasn’t hesitating to kiss me back, and she tasted so damn good. My hands slipped under the hem of her dress as she welcomed my tongue into her mouth, draping her arms around my neck to pull me closer.

  Inviting me to do more.

  Still, she sucked in a breath when my fingers grazed the waistband of her panties.

  “We’re supposed to be meeting Nick on set, not… doing this,” she whispered, unconvincing.

  “He’ll be just fine until we get there. Is that your only objection?”

  She ran her tongue over her lips. “No. I… don’t have office sex,” she said. “This isn’t me.”

  I moved my hand, skimming over her clit through her panties before I pressed harder, drawing a whimper. “But it could be,” I murmured against her lips. “I think you want it to be,” I told her, making her whimper again as I pushed the fabric aside to touch her directly. “You want me to make you cum, don’t you?” Instead of answering, Logan closed her eyes, dropping her head back as I pushed my fingers into her, but I stopped there, leaning in to demand. “Say it, shorty.”

  “I want you to make me cum,” she breathed, sounding a bit desperate as she moved her hips to create the friction I wasn’t giving.

  “Right here on the desk?”

  “Yes.”

  “Right next to Anthony’s flowers?”

  “Yes.”

  Say less.

  I dropped back into my seat, rolling it right up to her. She lifted up, letting me remove her panties and push that dress up around her hips before I spread her legs open. The sun streaming in through the window behind us gave me a perfect view of the perfect, pretty pussy I hadn’t seen in far too long.

  And that was exactly how I treated it, like a friend I hadn’t seen in far too long who needed all my care and attention. She tasted just as good as I remembered, and sounded the same, even through gritted teeth and clamped lips, trying not to alert the whole fourth floor of what I was doing.

  It was fine.

  She could get loud later, back at my house.

  For now, my primary concern was fulfilling her request – I ate her until she came all over my face, right there on my desk, right beside Anthony’s flowers. As soon as I stood to bring my face back to hers, she dropped a hand to untie the straps holding her dress closed, then pulled it open. One side, and then the other, revealing the simple, seductive bra underneath that matched the panties currently under my desk.

  I wasted no time stripping down to a state where I could join her, skin to skin, one hand teasing her breast, the other squeezing her ass as I buried myself as deep as I could get.

  So fucking good.

  I didn’t rest on that though.

  I brought myself right back to what I’d decided as my primary objective, making her cum again. With her legs locked around my hips, I drove into her again and again, watching the reactions on her face to tailor my every move to her pleasure, knowing that my own would come along with it.

  If I had her breaking all her rul
es, it would damn sure be worth it.

  If I had to judge, based on her teeth in my shoulder muffling her cries of pleasure and her fingernails digging into my ass cheeks, I would have to say I was doing a good job. My full confirmation came when she tensed and buried her face against my chest, trying her damndest not to scream as her pussy contracted wildly around me. She was so tight, so wet, so fucking perfect around my dick, I couldn’t have stopped that nut if I wanted to.

  Not that I wanted to.

  It was incredibly satisfying, emptying myself into Logan as she melted around me and then collapsed against me, contented and spent. After a few minutes to catch our collective breath, we went to the connected bathroom to clean up and make ourselves presentable.

  Logan, in her normal fashion, looked nothing like what I’d just done to her. At least, she wouldn’t to anyone else.

  I could see that she was a little flustered, knew exactly what had put that quiet smile she kept trying to hide on her face.

  And it didn’t have shit to do with those flowers on the desk.

  “So,” she spoke up, pushing out a breath as she looked at me. Involuntarily, she shuddered, then shifted a bit, fighting back that smile again. “We should probably make our way over to the set.”

  21

  Logan

  I’d never thought about what it might be like to wake up in Pierre’s bed.

  Seriously.

  I mean, I knew what sex with him was like, so there was nothing unexpected – in the best possible way – there. I’d spent the whole rest of our shooting day anticipating it, just knowing I’d have orgasms pulled out of me until I was weak and couldn’t keep my eyes open.

  He’d delivered on that.

  Just like he had before.

  This… was a bit different though.

  Waking up with his face tucked against the back of my head, his arms around my waist keeping me close, his dick hard and pressing into my skin just waiting for one of us to acknowledge it this morning.

  It was dreamy sigh inducing.

  I hadn’t had the imagination to conjure up how perfect and completely natural such a thing would feel.

  How good.

  I was still marveling over that when he stirred, and we were suddenly just… skin on skin.

  Another thing that was completely outside of my norm.

  Sleeping naked was just not my preference, but I don’t know.... Maybe it just wasn’t my preference alone, or with Les.

  I did know that when I tried to leave his bed in the early hours of the morning to slip on the pajamas from my overnight bag, he’d grabbed me by the wrist, pulling me right back into him. “Nah, shorty. Your pajamas aren’t welcome in here.”

  Why had that made me so wet?

  And he was doing it again now, arousing me with very minimal effort. My eyes were still closed, but I smiled at the feeling of him pressing a kiss to the back of my neck, then another and another, and then that hand around my waist was slipping lower. Between my legs, to play.

  And just like that, we were at it again.

  He pulled just my hips backward, putting me at the right angle to lift my leg and slide inside of me. I was already sore and overworked down there, but the pleasure of it all quickly overrode the discomfort as he took me with slow, deep strokes, peppering soft kisses over my shoulders and neck.

  Why didn’t we do this sooner?

  Pierre had this remarkable flair for making me feel like the easiest lay ever. What had been so difficult for others – and hell sometimes myself if I wasn’t in the right frame of mind – he made happen like it was nothing.

  “What is your fine ass trying to do to me?” whispered in his extra-deep early morning rasp, right in my ear while he was balls deep inside me seemed to be today’s particular trigger.

  The very next thing I knew, my thighs were shaking, body tensing as I came hard, barely registering his final stroke and release a few moments later.

  What was he trying to do to me?

  Once I’d caught my breath, I turned over onto my back so I could see his face.

  Handsome as ever.

  “Good morning,” he murmured, reaching out to caress my face with a smirk that incited the most powerful urge to climb on top and ride him. But with what he’d just done… I was pretty sure we were both fully out of commission for a bit.

  “Good morning to you, too,” I answered back. “I see you have no plans to let up on my IUD,” I laughed. “Which I do have, by the way, in case birth control has crossed your mind any of the times we haven’t bothered with a condom.”

  I don’t know what I was expecting as his response, but a full, belly laugh would never have been it, if someone had asked me to guess.

  “Logan, come on. Yes, I should have asked, but… we both know I didn’t have to.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means I know your ass wasn’t taking any chances with an unexpected baby,” he chuckled. “I’m guessing you’ve got at least two period apps on your phone, plus some kind of tracking in your regular calendar. Not to mention, I’m sure you keep it in your head too. You’ve probably got a gynecologist a phone call away for any possible emergencies or questions. All that on top of your birth control. Am I wrong?”

  I sucked my teeth. “It’s only one app to track my period,” I corrected him. “And… a color-coded dot in my regular calendar. So?”

  “I’m not ragging on you about it shorty,” he laughed. “I’m just saying… a long time ago, I remembered hearing something from Nubia’s mom. She wasn’t talking to me, but I heard it. Anytime you spread those little skinny legs, you need to decide whether you trying to get pregnant or trying not to get pregnant. Ain’t no in between, ain’t no caught up in the moment. You either trying to or trying not,” he said, hilariously shifting his voice into a bad caricature of an older woman. “Now,” he said in his regular voice, “I’m not saying I feel like it just a woman’s responsibility to take care of something like that. It’s on everybody involved. But with that said… from the very first time I laid eyes on you, it was quite obvious to me that you are a trying not to get pregnant kind of woman.”

  I kinda wanted to be mad at that, but I also kinda… couldn’t.

  My mother had a similar conversation with me, when I was heading off to college, which was presumably where Nubia was headed when she and her mother had that conversation Pierre had overheard.

  We’d obviously already had all the basic sex conversations, but I wasn’t doing much in high school to have any sort of practical experience. Knowing how that might change once I was off at college, she taught me about what to look for in terms of the normal discharge that meant I was ovulating, making absolutely sure to avoid those days since they represented the worst risk of unplanned pregnancy, and then still being protected the other times.

  It wasn’t until I got very serious with Les that I had shifted to needing all-the-time birth control, not just condoms, which neither of us wanted to use anyway. Back then, we were going at it like rabbits, and we needed certainty that we weren’t making a baby.

  It was much less necessary by the time I came to the realization that the relationship was over.

  In any case, Pierre wasn’t wrong, but a lack of conversation about this was still irresponsible. Unplanned babies weren’t the only concern if we were gonna keep having unprotected sex. He and Les were the only people I’d had sex with in the last seven years, so the chances of me giving him anything requiring an antibiotic were low.

  Him on the other hand…

  “Were you sleeping with Sienna?” I asked, which instantly sucked any humor out of our conversation.

  He looked at me, eyebrow raised, then nodded. “A long time ago, yes. Recently? No. Not since I moved to Blackwood.”

  Meaning not since before rehab.

  “So… that day I found her over here prancing around in her panties like she owned the place… you just let me believe you were fucking her?” I asked. “For what?” />
  “Man, you came in my spot wearing ol’ boy’s bracelet… well what I thought was ol’ boy’s bracelet… and I don’t know. I lost my head a little.”

  “What is it about that damn bracelet?” I laughed. “You asked about it, he asked about it. I put it on and y’all just go straight to caveman mode?”

  “I didn’t say I was proud of it,” Pierre admitted. “I wanted you, it seemed like he had you, and I didn’t know what to do with that feeling. But… since we’re just being upfront and asking, did you and him…?”

  I cringed. “No, never.”

  “Good.”

  “Good?”

  “Yeah,” he answered. “That means I can continue to have zero qualms about doing this.”

  This being spreading my legs open to put his face between them.

  And there I was thinking I didn’t have it in me to cum again.

  “Okay, so I’ve reviewed Sienna’s contract and her NDA,” Des said, putting a copy of both documents on the conference room table.

  Nubia had flown in this morning, and Chloe had just sent along suggestions, since it was such short notice that she couldn’t make it.

  Between the four of us, we were going to get this figured out.

  “So it doesn’t appear that she overtly violated her NDA, since it’s pretty specific to the show. No discussion of script content, the actors, none of that. The pictures were from six or seven years ago, so they’re outside of the scope of the legal documents too. So from that standpoint, we really can’t do anything about it. Even if she decides to keep talking or releasing pictures.”

  I let out a huff of air, frustrated as much of my we can do it energy melted away.

  “That’s just from a legal standpoint though,” Des quickly assured, and Nubia and I both sat up a little taller. “It just means we can’t sue her for it. For now, we’ll see if this was just a one-off moment of craziness for Miss Sparks. She can have that one. If she says anything more, we become a source of our own.”