The Director's Cut

by JS Taylor

  “Do you want me to fuck you now?” asks James.

  I nod into the desk. It’s what I want more than anything. My body is burning for him.

  “Say it,” he demands.

  “I want you to fuck me.”

  I’m expecting him to drive into me from behind. But instead, he pulls me up, away from the desk, so I’m standing, facing him.

  Then he kisses me, and the world disappears as my body melts into his. I can feel the crop in his hand, hard against my thigh, and the feeling adds another kind of fission to the kiss. More than anything, I want this man.

  He lifts me up, keeping his mouth on mine, and places me on the desk. I am sat facing him, and he stands between my legs. Then he reaches down and pulls my panties full away, letting them drop on the floor.

  His mouth pulls away from mine for second, just long enough for me to drink in the dark and dangerous expression on his face.

  And then he grasps each of my thighs roughly, and forces them wide apart.

  I blink as my legs open to him, stretched to the brink of their flexibility.

  “I like that I can open you so wide to me,” he says. “And that you’re so wet.” Then his eyes are on mine, as he unzips his fly and frees himself.

  With his eyes locked on me, I can’t see what he’s doing, but I like the hardness of him pressed between my legs. I hear a foil packet tear open and feel the movements of his hand rolling on a condom.

  My eyes half-close, dizzy with the pleasure and animation of him.

  “I’m going to take you hard,” he says.

  Then his hands grip hard into my buttocks, and I gasp.

  I feel him poised to enter me, and he pauses there, teasing me.

  In the next moment, he slams me towards him, entering me fully. I let out a loud moan as his body thuds hard into me, building speed.

  At this angle, he can enter me as fully as he likes. And he uses his hips to hammer his length deep inside me.

  “Arrgh!” I tip my head back as his body jolts mine back and forth on the desk. His pace is increasing, and his hold on my buttocks tightens as he slams into me.

  “Oh God, Issy!” he moans, reaching up a hand and knotting it into the hair at the base of my head. He grips it, securing my head tightly in his fingers, and forces my gaze straight into his smouldering eyes.

  “Open your mouth,” he commands.

  I let my lips part a fraction, and he forces his thumb inside my mouth. Then he pulls it out and moves it down to my clitoris.

  “Oh! James!”

  The feeling of his slow delicious movements there are too much to bear. I feel myself buck and twitch as he keeps up the steady, tantalising stroking.

  “Come for me,” he whispers, slowing the pace of his thrusts. “I want us to come at the same time.”

  I feel my thighs beginning to shake as the stroking begins to lift me towards orgasm. And then my mouth seeks his as the first shuddering wave crashes over me.

  “Oh God,” murmurs James, his words half lost as he kisses my mouth. “I can feel you, Issy. I’m coming.”

  He lets out a loud moan, and I feel him come as I reach my peak.

  We cling to one another as the molten pleasure cascades. For a long moment, the hotel room fades away, and there is nothing but us. Nothing but the white hot world we’ve created. And then we’re gasping, sweating in one another’s arms.

  “That was incredible,” whispers James, holding me tight and murmuring into my ear. “You are unbelievable, Issy.”

  “So are you,” I say shyly.

  I feel James’s mouth move into a smile by my ear. “I don’t know about that,” he says. “But behind every good man is a good woman.”

  I laugh, and he lifts me up off the desk and carries me across the room.

  “Now,” he says, his eyes setting to a more serious expression, “I have a slight professional dilemma, Ms Green.”

  “And what is that?”

  He sets me carefully down on the bed.

  “If I had my way,” he says, “I would have you so many more times tonight that you would be tired tomorrow.”

  “I see.”

  “And, as you know, tomorrow is a big day for you. Your first shots on location.”

  “Yes.”

  James settles down next to me, so we are both stretched out. Then he moves my hand across to his groin.

  “But as you can see,” he says, “I’m a man with particular needs, where you’re concerned.”

  I can feel him growing hard beneath my touch already.

  “Mr Berkeley,” I say, “you’re insatiable.”

  He leans across and tugs my earlobe gently with his teeth.

  “Only where you’re concerned,” he says. “Issy, you’ve given me a new interest.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Because you’ve shown me how to make love,” he says. He sounds almost apologetic. I turn to look into his green eyes.

  “I’m glad you liked it,” I say shyly.

  James gives me a wicked grin. “You might not be so glad tomorrow,” he says. “All that kinky stuff, Issy, I love doing that with you.”

  I turn away, so he can’t see me blushing.

  “But making love to you…” He leaves a long pause. “I just want to do that all day, every day.”

  He tilts my face back, so I’m looking into his eyes again.

  “Me too,” I admit.

  “But you like the other stuff too?”

  He’s holding my face, so I can’t look away. I feel my cheeks burning.

  “Yes,” I admit. “I do.”

  He turns his face to look up at the ceiling, considering this.

  “Good,” he says eventually.

  My hand is still on his groin, and the growing hardness is unmistakable. I flex my fingers gently, and he moans.

  Then he rolls over and takes me in a deep kiss.

  “I’ll have to ration myself,” he murmurs, smiling at me.

  “Really?” I raise my eyebrows. “What rationing did you have in mind?”

  “Bedtime in two hours, no arguments,” he says.

  “And what if I decide we should stay up later?”

  James fixes me with a rakish grin. “Are you suggesting disobedience, Isabella?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Then perhaps you should be a little more careful.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Because I still have the riding crop.”

  Chapter 15

  James kisses my sleeping face awake whilst it’s still dark. And I blink my eyes open in confusion.

  “Is it time to get up?”

  “Shhh. No. I have to be on set now. You take a few more hours in bed.”

  I squint at him groggily.

  “You’re going now?”

  James kisses my face again. “Yes. I just couldn’t resist kissing you goodbye.”

  He taps a clock by the bed. “I’ve set your alarm. Cast are due on set at 6am. There’ll be a bus waiting to take you, outside the hotel.”

  “Ok.”

  “The shoot starts too early for breakfast in the hotel,” he adds, “but I’ve arranged food to be on location when you all arrive.”

  He strokes my hair and kisses me one last lingering time before straightening up.

  “I love you,” he whispers. And before I have the chance to respond, he’s gone.

  A few hours later, the alarm blares, and I stagger sleep-drunk around the room. I manage to clumsily stab on the light, shower, and make it back to my own room for a change of clothes.

  Whoa. This is early.

  The clock says it’s barely 6am. I’m not a late sleeper, but even for me this is early. Sounds like the rumours of James being a slave driver might just be true.

  I make it down outside the hotel where the bus is waiting, and to my delight, see that Lorna and Callum are already here. Though Natalie is nowhere to be seen.

  Lorna is distinctly hung-over. And the lines around Callum’s eyes suggest th
at the early start doesn’t agree with him either. So we sit in virtual silence as the bus ferries us to the location.

  We disembark into a huge Spanish style square lined with historic buildings, which has been cordoned off to the public.

  And once I see the location, I start to feel excited rather than sleepy.

  I can’t believe they’ve done all this in only one day.

  It looks like a real film location.

  Three huge trailers have been stationed inside, presumably for the needs of the cast and crew. And the whole square is milling with countless people. Camera men are rolling their equipment into position, and set handlers are busying themselves.

  As promised, there’s a breakfast area set up, and the smell of fresh coffee wafts over the square. A line of crew members are being served breakfast from a large catering van.

  “Coffee,” says Callum in relief, nodding towards the van. “Now,” he adds with feeling. Lorna and I follow behind as he makes a beeline for the van.

  Just the smell of coffee seems to have transformed Callum, and he’s already brightened considerably.

  As we wait in line, I’m once again struck by his humility. Several crew offer Callum the chance to go in front, but he declines with a disarming smile.

  “How are my two favourite actresses this morning?” asks Callum with his usual degree of exaggerated charm.

  “Good,” I reply. “Where’s Will this morning?”

  “He opted for a workout, since he doesn’t really need to be on set,” says Callum. “Late night?” he adds, catching a glimpse of Lorna’s pained expression.

  “Uggh,” says Lorna, moving her hand to clutch her head. “Hung-over.”

  I shoot her a dark look, and she rolls her eyes.

  “What?” she protests. “I’m out in a new town. Give me a break.”

  Callum grins wider.

  The hangover, at least, seems to have cleared Lorna’s star-struck fascination with him. She’s treating like any other ordinary guy.

  “Can you get me some water?” she begs as Callum approaches the head of the queue.

  “Of course.” Callum inclines his head in a stiff nod. “Anything for you gorgeous women. Isabella?”

  “Um. Just a croissant, thanks.”

  “No coffee?” Callum sounds shocked.

  “Ok. Sure.” It’s occurring to me I do probably need one. “Latte, thanks.”

  Callum steps ahead of us to take a selection of drinks and pastries from the van.

  “Hey listen,” I say to Lorna, “I’m sorry, about disapproving of you and Ben. It’s not that I don’t think a guy would like you. You do know that, right?”

  “Don’t worry about it,” she says. “I’m sorry for saying that. I know that’s not what you were implying. I was just being dramatic.”

  She gives an adorable little smile. “You’re probably right to be disapproving,” she admits. “But just give me space to make my own mistakes, ok?”

  “Ok.” I smile at her.

  Lorna clutches her head again.

  “Anyway,” she says, “I’m not sure I can spend too much time with Ben in Barcelona. I feel like shit. This drinking and working thing. It’s not good.”

  Callum turns to us. He has gathered up an armful of coffees, drinks and pastries.

  “Come on,” he says, “let’s sit on that fountain.” He nods with his head towards a large fountain in the centre of the plaza.

  “It’s probably the only time we’ll sit down today,” adds Callum.

  “Seriously?” Lorna looks even greener as we make towards the fountain.

  “Oh yes,” says Callum. “Filming is a long day. You can wrap at nine, ten, midnight. It depends on whether the director gets what he wants.”

  Memories are coming back of Berkeley as a director who pushes actors to the brink.

  “And James will probably work us late?” I ask.

  Callum nods. “From what I’ve heard,” he says. “And I’ve never started quite this early. It will be interesting to see if Natalie can stick to the schedule.”

  We seat ourselves on the fountain, and Lorna is looking distinctly nauseous.

  “Here,” says Callum. “I got you a Coke. World’s best hangover cure.”

  “Thanks,” says Lorna, taking the bottle and opening it with a hiss. She takes a deep chug. “Huh,” she says, “that’s good.”

  She stares up at the morning sky, as if hoping her head pain will magically dispel.

  “I think this will be the first and last time you end up hung-over on set,” says Callum. “Take it from me, it’s a long day.”

  I gaze out over to where the crew are setting up.

  James explained that he’d brought the least possible staff. But it still looks like a lot of people to me.

  I can make out James in the thick of it, pointing out where camera men should set up and directing other crew members to their stations.

  Hello baby.

  I find myself staring in awe at him as he tirelessly directs crew members who are still blinking away sleep.

  It’s all I can do to sit here and drink coffee. I don’t know how he has the energy.

  “Wardrobe, hair and make-up,” he bellows suddenly, his voice echoing around the large square. “Cast into wardrobe please!”

  Lorna looks at us in confusion. “Does that include me?”

  “There’s a list,” says Callum. “It’s pasted up by the big trailer. Come on,” he adds, clutching his giant sized coffee.

  Chapter 16

  We make it to the list to see that Lorna is scheduled as a fellow diner in a cafe scene.

  “You’re due over there,” says Callum, pointing. “Isabella, you and I are over here. Come on darlings. It’s time to get the catwalk look.”

  He says this last word with a comic toss of his head, and both Lorna and I laugh.

  “Ok,” says Lorna, “I’m going over there. I might not live through today, but if I do, I’ll see you later.”

  “Small sips of Coke,” advises Callum sagely.

  Lorna gives us one last hung-over grunt, and then follows the milling crowd of other extras.

  Callum leads me towards a selection of rolling hangers, and I’m pleased he’s here to guide me. I know plenty about wardrobe from drama college. But I’ve never seen how it works on a real location shoot.

  I’m excited though. In theatre, there’s a wardrobe mistress who designs the costumes. But in films, the actors usually get a whole array of carefully chosen clothes.

  I’m dying to see what my character will be wearing.

  “There’s no one on wardrobe today,” Callum explains, “because of the reduced crew.”

  He doesn’t mention the reason for this, and I feel a usual pang of unease.

  “But wardrobe have sent a selection of location clothes,” Callum adds, “and you’ll get to meet the designer back in England. He’s a riot. You’ll love him.”

  “There’s a designer?”

  I’ve never heard of this. Usually wardrobe is run by a regular person who’s worked their way up from fixing costumes.

  Hiring an actual designer is an unheard of luxury.

  “Yep,” Callum nods. “That’s Berkeley for you. He employs a designer to make a collection for each of the characters. They’re given all your character notes, everything.”

  “Wow.” I’m even more excited now. What will a designer have made of Grace’s character?

  We’re by the rolling hanger racks now, and I make out one with Callum’s name scrawled on a piece of card and stapled to the end of the rack. “There’s you,” I say, pointing to a selection of jeans, T-shirts and stylish sneakers. Clearly Callum’s reporter look is to be casual.

  I spot my name and approach my hanger.

  “I can choose what I like?” I ask Callum, letting my hand trail over the clothes.

  “Yep. Whatever you think will work for the scene.”

  We sure do have a lot of agency on this set, I think, looking careful
ly at the clothes. Better make sure I choose right.

  Based on what I can see, the costume designer has a pretty similar idea of Grace to me. He’s styled Grace in fashionable work wear with a formal edge.

  I pick out a deep blue pencil skirt and matching top with a peplum hem.

  Perfect. This is exactly the sort of thing Grace would wear in Spain.

  In the movie, Grace is a little controlling, and insular. I think she’d be the kind of girl who wore semi-formal wear in a European café. Even when everyone around her was in tight tees and flip-flops.

  I smile. I’d never realised how much fun it could be to add definition to a character in this way.

  “Ready?” asks Callum. He has already slung his outfit over his arm and is holding a pair of sneakers.

  “Give me a sec.”

  I duck down and select a pair of polka dot flats in a shade to match. “Ready.”

  “Ok,” says Callum. “We change in those cabins.”

  I change as quickly as possible. The small cabin has a mirror, and I take a quick glance at myself. The blue pencil skirt is tight, and to my dismay, the outline of my panties is on clear view.

  I chew my lip, thinking of a solution. They’re hardly likely to have a spare G-string in the wardrobe department.

  There’s nothing else for it. I’ll have to dispense with my panties altogether. The skirt is knee-length in any case. There’s not really a risk of exposure.

  I tug my panties off carefully and fold them discretely amongst my other civilian clothes.

  I can’t help but smile to myself as I head out to meet Callum. Wearing no panties is like having my own sexy secret. I feel slightly daring as I walk back out into the main square.

  Once again, Callum knows the drill concerning hair and make-up. Apparently, one of the trailers will be where we get made-up.

  “Don’t you have your own hair and make-up people?” I ask Callum as we make towards the trailer.

  From what I’d heard, all Hollywood A-list had their own staff.

  “Sometimes,” says Callum. “But it’s not such a big deal. If I’m on location and it’s difficult to arrange, I just go with the on-set staff. Besides,” he adds, “I’m not in too many scenes today, so it doesn’t matter if I’m not looking devastating.”