by Savannah May
“Because Knox had no clue what I was talking about when I told him I'd keep my mouth shut.
“Right because it's not like they pay him the big bucks to act. He may have looked completely innocent but it would be nothing to snow an audience of one, especially one as -”
“What,” I snap. “As naive as me?”
“No I don't mean that. More like starry eyed. You said yourself you didn't say no.”
“Okay, sure you're right. I have to get going. Have a good day y'all,” I add in my best hick voice, as I slam out the door.
As soon as I'm riding the bus I regret my outburst. I'm just so torn apart. It's true I didn’t say no. Because I wanted him to touch me. That's a reality I wish wasn't the truth because after seeing Knox toy with that girl in the club last night, in front of all of us like we didn’t exist, like we're nothing but the atmosphere surrounding him, I know it meant nothing to him.
I've loved Knox the actor for so long that when I passed him in the hall and he gave me that smoldering slow eyefuck up against the wall, my starry dreams took over and I left my reality at the door. I took out all my vitriol on that lookalike last night when it's true I didn't fight him off. Maybe I'm just super pissed that he isn't Knox.
Argh. I don't know what I think.
I'll put this behind me as a lesson learned. I feel like I’ve grown up about a decade this week. Time to get it together and do my job as a professional.
*
I bring Knox his calendar for the day, itemized down to every ten minutes on the hour. Jeez, no wonder the guy needs to go out and get drunk every night. He's got no life that isn't dictated by the studio, his agent or manager.
I almost feel sorry for how he's a commodity they all use to make them more money. Except that he's living the life, beloved by his fans, in a Beverly Hills home. I'd like to feel that sorry for myself. And some day I intend to.
“Oh, Sam, there you are.”
“Jenna,” I remind him.
“Yeah, I was about to correct myself. Listen, about what happened in wardrobe the other day. Now I understand what you were talking about, Babe.”
My heart skips. He's going to admit it, apologize for the mistake, maybe say he thought I was Emily Jayne, thanks to the exquisite gown.
“So I had a chat with Truan, my stunt man and he owned up to me. He had to because – well, never mind why. But he won't do it again. He's my boy, so don’t worry, no one will ever find out. I spoke to him and told him very clearly, hands off, this girl works for me. We grew up together. He's always been in my shadow and I know how to control him. I'll take care of you, Kitten. You're safe with me.”
“Oh.” I can't ignore the deflation that caves my skin. I was so sure that Knox was going to admit he made a mistake, that he mistook me for his publicity girlfriend, beg my forgiveness and maybe even offer to buy me dinner to sweeten the deal. Okay, maybe not that last part, but a girl can dream.
“Thanks. See you on set,” I say and leave Knox in the hands of his personal hairdresser. He's about to shoot some close-ups of a chase scene, so every hair is being perfectly positioned.
I go out to the street set and see Truan listening carefully to the directions from the stunt director. His back is to me but fuck, he's sexy in a tight pair of jeans that cup his butt cheeks invitingly. His shoulders veer wide and powerful in a stretched tee. No wonder he picked me up like I was weightless.
I notice another welling up of disappointment from what Knox just told me. Unconsciously was I hoping it had been him, the stunt man? So that would exonerate Truan. He's so damn fuckable and he was so sweet last night. I guess he was only doing it to keep me quiet. He probably owned up to Knox so he wouldn’t lose his job.
Asshole.
I'm lucky Knox is looking out for me now. Otherwise I might have thought his douche double was a good guy after all.
There are three camera angles set up, one cameraman is in place on his highrise crane that will shoot the overheads. Alaine is sitting behind a bank of screens to watch the take in real time and know whether he's satisfied.
“Why are there three cameras rolling at once?” I ask one of the runners, a cute guy named Luke.
“They don't want to shoot more than one take if they can get away with it. So they shoot the reversal at the same time. It's dangerous, and more important expensive.”
The stunts are so much more interesting than the endless loops of dialogue. Everyone gets excited by the action scenes even though many are only shot in front of a bright green background screen. They add the explosions and gunshots and cars crashing into the background digitally, in post production.
“The car is on a truck?” I ask. “It's not going to move?”
“Nope. But it will explode and you'll see Knox, I mean Truan, walking away.”
At that moment Truan grins and as he high fives the stunt director with glamorous confidence, his eyes find me in the crowd gathering to watch the take. He holds my gaze and smiles wider. I stare back at him, blank-eyed, pretending I'm fascinated by the green screen behind him. What an idiot I am not letting him know what I really think. That I hate him for what he did to me.
But when the director calls 'Action' and Truan emerges from the car with flames down the length of his arm, I notice my heart leaping. I'm still holding my breath as the firefighter crew run in to douse him. I should be mad that he took advantage of me and even allowed me to think he was his famous lookalike. But the intensity of being inside an explosion and shoot out, even though I know it's all make believe, has me half panting.
I have to squeeze my thighs together as Truan immediately seeks me out in the crowd as though his eyes are magnetically pulled to me. His face breaks into a grin. Like he's pleased to discover I was watching him. An unusual fluttery feeling in my stomach and the dampness between my legs leaves me breathless.
A runner is sent to call Knox on set for his close up and I head to craft service, knowing he'll demand a double espresso. I'm waiting for the barista to come back with another pack of the beans he grinds especially for the star when Truan appears at my side and orders a BLT.
“How are you? Did you sleep okay after last night?” he asks.
“Listen thanks for seeing me home, but Knox explained to me what happened.”
Fuck that sounded bitchy uptight.
“He did?”
“Yes, he did. So let's not pretend we're pals, because I have nothing to say to you.”
“Ah.”
Ah? That's it?
“I guess you get your hands on a lot of women, pretending to be Knox Templeton.”
“Er, not really.” He shakes his head blithely.
“Well I think it's kind of pathetic that you need to do that to get laid and take them sneakily like that in the dark.”
“I'm really sorry that happened to you, Jenna.”
“You're sorry, seriously?”
“If I could take that back for you, I'd do anything.”
“Just leave me alone okay. We have nothing more to say to each other.”
I walk away before he has the chance to hit me up with any more platitudes. As though he wasn’t an intrinsic part of the occurrence. He's a total asshole. Although at least he can remember my name. And watching him on the set, I couldn’t stop feeling a sense of arousal more intense than I’ve ever known.
Truan
I watch her strut away from me, her round ass swaying perfectly in the shapely skirt she always wears. I'm filled with a thousand regrets for everything that could have been in my life.
And then a fiery rage rides up in me that eradicates every shred of past sensibilities. I'm not living this lie any longer. We can't carry on like this, her assuming it was me that hurt her feelings. Or maybe she chooses to believe the Golden Boy because she's like everyone else.
But I'm not taking the fall for his shit any more. Even if it means I'm sent down again, she's going to know who the fuck Knox Templeton is and who the fuck I am.
I st
ride across the lot behind her, pick her up in my arms exactly as I did last night. She lets out a husky squeal of surprise and her eyes stare up at me in outrage. Two things I notice are how her breath quickens so her gorgeous tits strain against her fitted blouse and how she holds the coffee cup so that none spills out.
Not knowing where I'm headed, just strutting with her in my hold feels good. I turn a corner so none of the a-hats on the production can feast their nosy eyes on us and suddenly we're in Manhattan. On a street with those tall houses, brownstones I think, with the tall stairs going up to the stoop. I set her down.
“Sit,” I order, taking the coffee from her hand and throwing it down the street.
“Are you completely nuts?” she shrieks, staring in horror after the cup.
“Maybe. Right now, definitely. But I am going to tell you a few truths about me and you are going to listen. After that if you still want to think badly of me, that's your right, but we are not continuing with this charade.”
“What charade are you referring to?”
“You think it was me that came on to you in the Celia's department.”
“Came on to me? Is that what you call it?”
“Be quiet.”
She reaches up and slaps my face before I know her hand has moved. We glare at each other, me standing tall over her. We're both breathing in gasps and after the shock has retreated a little, I sit down on the stoop beside her.
“I guess I deserved that.”
“No, Christ, no. Sorry, I never slapped anyone before. Oh once, my ex fiance but he totally did deserve it.”
“Listen Jenna, the moment I saw you walking toward me in the hallway I was kind of smitten.”
“That was you?” she squeaks.
“Yeah, you thought it was someone else?” I ask.
“I get it, because I returned your flirt, you thought you could go all the way?”
“No. What I thought was there's a girl I'd like to take out.”
I decide it's best at this point to leave out the rest of it. How I also imagined that after taking her out, I was going to take her home, slowly strip her out of her clothes and relish every moment of exposing her creamy skin to me.
Then biting my way down one side of her body before spreading her thighs and making her scream my name loud enough for the whole house to hear. My fucking name. No other piece of garbage.
“There’s a girl I want to get to know,” I continue. “But somehow things got derailed.”
“You could have done those things,” she says with an attitude of sorrow that gives me hope. “Instead you were greedy impatient and took the direct route.”
“No, that's not me. How can I make you believe me?
“Knox talked to me this morning. He said you confessed to him and he told you he'd take care of it.”
“That bastard. You have to believe me, it wasn't me in wardrobe, it was him. It's always him.”
“What does that mean?”
“Never mind.”
“Hmm, that's what he said too.”
“It's complicated. It's just that he likes to put a lot of the shitty things he does onto others.”
“Really and why do you and they take it?”
“Good question. Because he's Knox. It's something I've been doing a long fucking time.”
“Oh.”
Her eyes search mine and I can see that she isn't too sure what she wants to believe. But she plumps her lips into a pout while she considers and the effect is a lightning bolt on my cock. Before I can stop myself I lean in and fist her hair around my knuckles, catching the back of her head and claiming the mouth I've never stopped thinking about for a second.
She tastes as softly sweet as I'd expected and her mouth surrenders to a powerful probe from mine before she powers up to return the challenge. Our tongues dance forcefully around each other and I ramp up my hold on her, kissing her harder, delving deeper into her. Letting her know I'm in charge.
Finally I release her mouth and if I get another slap it will be completely worth it. Instead she looks at me with a doe stare of disbelief.
“Wow,” she murmurs.
“Yeah, wow is right.”
My cock is stretching at the tight pants I'm wearing to play Knox's double. I'd like to lay her down across the stoop and explore every part of her body with my tongue. Even though a bus load of tourists has just driven up and are snapping away at us with their phones.
Jenna colors with an adorable rose flush across her cheeks, the same hue I’d like to apply to her rear cheeks with a couple of sharp slaps. She waits for the bus to move on and I'm about to take her hand and tell her I'd like to see her later when she jerks to standing.
With a long stare at me she finally wraps it up by saying: “I mean wow, you must really think I'm a dumb young hick.”
Then she struts that fine ass back up 73rd Street and disappears around the corner.
ChapterSEVEN
Jenna
It requires all my focus to keep my feet moving one in front of the other and not buckle or trip like last night. Part of me would love to feel him sweep me up in his powerful arms and carry me away to Manhattan, where I've never been in reality. Or maybe a beach in Mexico, which is another set they'll build for a scene in this movie.
He was so strong when he picked me up off the ground and I was elevated in his hold like I weighed nothing. The way he kissed me, ohmigod, it was like he stripped my soul naked.
Absolutely nothing like the young jocks in Comfort. His tongue claimed me as his and explored my mouth like he's desperate to know me inside and out.
Oh shit, the thought of his tongue sends slivers of electric shock to my thighs where the throbbing refuses to quit even though I've turned the corner and am out of his sight now.
I pick up another espresso for Knox, hoping that he won't have been screaming for me while I was gone. If only Truan were a different man, things could have turned out so perfectly. But I am not the naive girl, bordering on idiot that I was when I arrived here almost four months ago. And I've seen more life in the past couple of weeks as Knox's assistant, working on the set, than I've seen in my entire life.
“Babe, I'm having a party this weekend,” he tells me as I set down his coffee and give him his messages and the requests for interviews and appearances he needs to approve.
“I need caterers and bars inside and out. Pull out all the stops and invite the entire crew and cast. Even the atmosphere are invited. Love is making me feel generous,” he adds with zero genuine feeling.
What?
“Knox, can you believe the pic of me with a whipped cream sundae from props is getting more likes than the one of us dining together at Mirbelle's.”
Oh.
“Maybe I'm more popular than you are now.”
I shudder at the sound of Emily Jayne's voice. Only now noticing her stretched out on a chaise behind me, flipping through her phone, no doubt checking how many followers have liked her in the last hour. The chick is an Instagram junkie. She barely moves from one room to another without having to post a video of the event for the world to admire.
“I'm on the baby food diet this week,” she says to me without looking in my direction. “And the champagne must be French, not Californian. Although the stuff they gift us will do for the crew.”
How can Knox stand to be with this narcissist? I'm sure he can't really enjoy her mean girl act with every other woman on the production.
A party! It's impossible to imagine that one man's life needs so much organizing. I'm run off my feet the instant I arrive on set at 8am and don't stop until eight at night. After that there's always more stuff to take care of and I continue working until midnight most days.
A movie doesn't operate normal office hours. We shoot until the director says cut, then come back and do it all again. It's a world of its own, a movie set, we live and breathe every moment here. Now with the extra task of organizing all the suppliers for this party, there's barely an opportunity
to grab a sandwich at craft service.
Eventually I will have to give in to my stomach's growling because yet again I missed the amazing hot lunch they serve the crew every day.
It's late in the afternoon and I've stopped panicking because everything is under control. All the caterers, bars and décor are already setting up at the house. So my heart almost drowns when Knox tells me he needs me to run an errand to a part of the city I've never even heard of.
“There's a package I need picked up for tonight.”
“Okay, give me the details and I'll have them deliver it.”
“No, they already told me they can't get here. I need you to go collect it.”
“Can't I send one of the runners. Or Darby?” How many other people are there he could send to pick up a package?
“Darby's driving Emily Jayne. He doesn't drive deliveries in a stretch.”
“No, of course not.”
So send the go-fer girl.
He's already lost interest, his attention moved on to checking the latest comments on an article about him that appeared on Blag, the salacious online celebrity blog.
I wander back out to the set. Alaine is setting up the next shot with the Director of Photography and the back end is a hive of activity. The tech personnel and dressers are waiting around to see if they' ll be called on to make some magic happen. In case Alaine calls for some element he requires to make the shot perfect.
The runners are hanging around with the same intent. They could be told to dash off and get something immediately. It's amazing the action that goes on behind the scenes of a movie set. And all the way in back, Craft Services has set up a long trestle table spread with piles of danish, donuts and other pick me ups to keep everyone running on a manic sugar high.
I head that way now, glad I'm not going to starve to death while working on set. And I'm not spending money on groceries which is a plus. A bunch of the drivers are hanging around, stuffing danish into their mouths and shooting the breeze. I head over, surely I can beg one of them to go out to this part of the city I don't know and collect the package for Knox.
Damn.
