by Meg Maguire
Against her sensitive skin, Ty’s breath flared, scorching hot. His eyes were half-lidded, the fingertips against her inner thighs unsteady. He made a soft noise, some affirmation or other, and gave her the softest graze of his lower lip. The subtle sensation raced like wildfire through her entire body.
“God, Ty.”
He gave her a little more. His lips again, warm and rough, then a tiny sampling of the very tip of his tongue. Her fingers tangled tighter in his wet hair and he went further, bathing her clit with sensual licks, teasing it with kisses, diving in to sweep his tongue deeper, tasting her fully. The sounds that rose out of him stoked her fire as he slipped one finger, then two, inside her. She bucked against him and it only spurred him on.
He found what she liked with ease, his two hooked fingers playing inside against that magic, hidden spot, as his tongue flicked her clit with light, rapid, torturous licks. Her own noises began to drown out his.
In the mirror Kate watched his toned hips and ass shifting in tandem with the motion of his fingers. His body’s eagerness, its readiness, thrilled her. The thought of him taking her again pulled hard on the proverbial trigger and all at once, she was gone, consciousness left behind as she was set adrift in pleasure. Ty moaned along with her as the shock waves radiated from deep inside. His mouth replaced his fingers, drinking in everything she gave him and whimpering with excitement.
He gave her a handful of seconds to recover before he stood, angled his hard, swollen cock to her entrance and took her.
“Kate.” He groaned, bracing his large hands on her hip bones and beginning to pump. He stopped. “Bugger. Be right back.”
Kate waited, perplexed. He stepped to the jeans he’d ditched in the bathroom doorway and came back with a condom.
She laughed. “Been holding out on me, huh? Where on earth did you find that?”
He stood between her spread legs and equipped himself. “Bar restroom,” he said with a smile. “Never doubt for a second about how classy I am, sweetheart.”
“That’s very thoughtful.”
“You wish,” he said, gliding back into her and picking up his refrain. “This is for me. So I can finally come inside you.” He transformed before her, turning rough and aggressive, setting her on fire as always. She lay back so his body loomed above her, long and sleek and shining with sweat, every muscle she’d ever fantasized laboring for their mutual pleasure.
“Give me one more,” he said between grunting breaths, nodding down between them. Kate ran an obedient hand down her belly to touch herself.
“Let me feel you come one more time before I have my turn,” he moaned.
Ty had her body so primed and excited that it didn’t even take a minute before she began to tighten around him like a fist, then he too let go. Chasing her climax, his hips hammered hard, slapping her thighs. His entire body tensed then froze, his abdomen tightening to signal his release.
Once he caught his breath, Ty disposed of the condom and tumbled into bed, gathering Kate into his strong arms, burying his face in her hair. For the first time ever, they both slept. Deep, dreamless, effortless sleep.
THE TRIP BACK SOUTH the next morning passed by in a blur. Kate was only vaguely aware of the snowy landscape whizzing by the truck, of the music and ads droning from the nondescript radio stations along the route. She let Ty drive the entire way as she drifted in and out of sleep.
Her head snapped up as the truck door slammed shut. She looked over to find he’d just climbed back into the cab. Outside were all the trappings of a proper town center, looking alien after the time they’d spent in the wilderness.
“Where are we?”
“Prince Albert.”
“Already? Damn. Why’d we stop?”
“I had to swing by the post office. And I brought you a coffee.” He slid a paper take-out cup into the holder on her side.
“Thanks.”
“Where to next, PA?”
Kate smiled at the reintroduction of her title and dug the directions out of the glove box. She’d suspected—no, she’d felt—the night before, with all the intimacy they’d shared, that Ty was going to relent on his threats to take her job away. There was a certain delicacy to their new status as lovers, however. She decided not to bring up the topic until they were back in L.A., maybe after she’d worked on the editing for the final episode. Once their old routines were firmly reestablished. Perhaps by then Ty’s decision would look as rash and reactionary to him as it did to her.
In what felt like no time they were aboard their flight to Denver, then on to Los Angeles.
Kate stepped out into the terminal and was flooded with a powerful emotion, akin to relief though not quite synonymous. A kind of exhausted euphoria, a thrill to be back among the mundane. It felt like a new beginning, and at the same time a return to the ordinary. Perhaps a return to the extraordinary, with her job still intact and, she hoped, a fantastic lover to round out the picture. Maybe they’d finally filled in the last blank that had always prevented Ty from being her definitive everything. That she even caught herself thinking in such terms nearly made her laugh out loud. Only a week ago these romantic thoughts would have struck her as patently un-Kate.
Beside her in the arrival lounge, Ty seemed cheerful but quiet, almost Zen-like compared to his usual frenetic baseline. Kate, conversely, found herself chattering in a voice so bright and optimistic it didn’t register as her own.
“It’s just so weird to be back, isn’t it?” she said for about the third time in ten minutes, glancing around LAX with all the wonder of a child embarking on her first plane trip. “I can’t wait to change my frigging clothes and take a walk on the beach. God, and get some real groceries and cook for a change. Although I’m so wound up now maybe I’ll just order in and be a lazy bum all night.”
They neared the baggage claim and Ty interrupted Kate’s ramblings to offer a polite wave and a charming smile to a gawking young woman who clearly recognized him. Kate was glad the girl seemed content with mere acknowledgment. Good mood or no, she was sick to death of accepting proffered cameras and snapping photos of Ty with his arm around starry-eyed strangers.
“Ooh, that’s mine.” She pointed and Ty reached out to grab her frame pack from the carousel. The camera equipment came next in its protective black cases and she pulled everything off to one side to check for damage while Ty waited for his luggage.
“Wow, nothing’s been lost. That must be a first,” he said, bags in hand, joining Kate as she made her inventory. An unwelcome jolt jarred her stomach as she discovered there was, in fact, something missing—something so important that her throat tightened with fear.
“Ty.”
“Yeah?”
“The film isn’t in here.” She triple-checked the pockets in the case where the little memory cards should have been—where she’d put them herself before they’d left the motel.
“Really?” Ty asked.
“Really.” She peeked in the cameras’ slots and found those empty, as well. She glanced up at him, panicked. “Oh my God.”
“Do you think someone stole them?” he asked, frowning.
“Why would someone take our footage but not the cameras?”
“They must think there’s something highly valuable on them, then.” Ty abandoned his frowning, one side of his mouth curling in a crooked, self-satisfied grin.
“Don’t joke about—” Oh God, she’d forgotten. She hadn’t only lost all the footage for the show, but the goddamn sex video, as well. “Holy crap! We’re screwed. Why are you smiling?”
Ty’s grin deepened and there was wickedness in it. Dripping from it. Kate nearly fell over with the breath she released.
“Oh my God, that was the worst joke ever. Don’t ever scare me like that again.” Her heart pounded against her ribs.
He chuckled. “Brilliant.”
“Yeah, right. I thought we’d lost the whole episode there. And the… Anyway. Hand them over.” She lowered her voice. “I need to edit ou
t the dirty bits before we can send those to the editors.”
“About that,” Ty said.
“What?”
“I’m going to need to hang on to those, actually.”
Kate’s brows knitted. “Pardon me?”
“Sorry about the change in plans.”
“Ty—”
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll get them to editorial, minus the sex. Your precious show will go on.”
“We agreed that those would be mine, Ty.”
“Don’t be mad, Katie. It’s just that I need some of what’s on there, too.” He smiled again, and when the teasing didn’t stop Kate felt anger seep over her like lava.
“You said you trusted me.”
“Oh, I do. But maybe you shouldn’t have trusted me.” His eyes glittered and he was smirking so thoroughly that his dimple appeared.
Kate felt her eyes widen with disbelief. “You asshole.”
Ty smiled deeper, clearly pleased with himself. “I promise you’ll understand soon enough.”
“I think I understand just fine already.” She seethed for a moment, then lunged for his bag. He relinquished it without protest and she knew after a few seconds of tearing through the contents that the cards weren’t there. She glared up at him. “Where are they?”
“I posted them to myself, back in Prince Albert. To the network.”
“I can get them just as easily as you can, then. I have just as much right to that film as you do.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Yes, I do, I—”
“No, you don’t,” Ty repeated. “You’re fired.”
Kate’s jaw dropped. She found herself able only to blink for a few moments as her entire world fell down around her.
Ty smiled again, sadder this time. “Sorry. But it’s not going to work out, Kate. I just can’t do the show the way we have been anymore. I promise you’ll understand in time—” He stopped, silenced by the hardest slap Kate had ever laid on a person. She hit him so hard it rang out like a sound effect, so hard his lip split, a tiny tickle of blood streaking his chin when he turned to face her. A dozen or more passersby stopped to stare, and Kate heard Ty’s name muttered under strangers’ breaths.
“I’m sorry.” He almost looked sorry. Almost.
Kate wanted out. Now. The looming open space of the airport was going to crush her. Horrified and humiliated, she scanned Ty’s unreadable face for a few seconds. She grabbed her pack, shouldered it and marched straight for the taxi stand without once looking back.
13
WINE SLOSHED FROM THE BOTTLE into the glass tumbler Kate had placed on the counter. No need for stemware. This wasn’t celebration wine. This was six-dollar utility shiraz, exactly what the occasion called for. Disappointing, headache-inducing…Australian.
The bottle came with her into her bedroom—its contents stood little chance of surviving the evening and she might as well save herself several trips back to the kitchen. She and her glass settled down on the front edge of the bed and she clicked the TV on, flipping it to her former favorite channel. She commenced to fidget, waiting for the commercials to wrap and that familiar theme music to start up.
Kate had done this every Tuesday night for the three weeks she’d been back. Survive This! had a very fast production turnaround and most of the third season had aired while they’d still been filming the last few locations. Tonight was the finale, and this episode was different. Kate had had no input in the editing, for one thing, and more than that, this was their last trip together. The trip that had ended it all for her.
She took a fortifying breath. She could do this. She’d sit through an hour of this farce, watching Dom Tyler survive the Saskatchewan bush, trying her damnedest not to think of all the things that wouldn’t have made the final cut—chiefly, hours of off-screen bickering and flirtation and the best, most meaningful sex of her life. The editing team might all be young, fresh-out-of-college hipsters, but Kate trusted them to do a decent job on the finished episode without her input. She just prayed they didn’t all have copies of her sex video now. Those used to be her drinking buddies, for crying out loud. Awesome… How long now until she found herself on YouTube?
Nearly a month had passed since she’d seen Ty or spoken to him, even longer since she’d been by the offices of their production company. Two days after they’d landed in L.A., a courier had arrived on Kate’s doorstep with all of her things from the Survive This! office. They’d been carefully packed and accompanied by a note in Ty’s abysmal handwriting that read, “No hard feelings, I hope. Don’t miss the season finale!” Days later she’d received the first severance check resulting from the “involuntary termination” of her job as his PA.
Several times he’d left her phone messages and emails, all of them upbeat and saying basically the same thing—he was sorry, he’d make this up to her, don’t miss the show. She hadn’t replied to a single one. And not once in all that time had Kate made any effort to start looking for another assistant job. She wasn’t even sure it was what she wanted anymore, and frankly, she was overqualified now. Plus her heart was broken—her spirit, as well—and damn it, she was going to wallow. She’d claw her way into another entertainment job soon, maybe in production. Eventually. No, tomorrow. When the closing credits rolled tonight it would mark the official end of her self-indulgent mourning period.
A commercial for furniture polish ended just as the glowing digits on Kate’s alarm clock ticked over to 8:00 p.m. Her heart pounded, sabotaging all her attempts to convince herself she didn’t care about this episode.
She held her breath. She waited for the first percussive thumps of the dramatic opening-credit music.
It didn’t come.
She squinted at the screen, scrunching her brow in confusion at the scene…. Outdoors, the edge of a snowy woods on one side, a river on the other. The faint sound of a woman’s voice, shouting.
Disembodied, Ty’s voice spoke in hushed, documentarian tones from behind the camera.
“Did you hear that? That was definitely a call.”
Kate watched herself round the bend, trudging through the slushy snow with a camera strapped around her front.
“Yes—it’s an adult female, and I think she’s spotted us. I’m just going to remain motionless, and hopefully I won’t provoke an attack.” Kate-on-screen neared. “This is just one of the many dangers that you put yourself down for when you enter the natural habitat of the Kate Somersby. We can see from her stance that this approach is one of postured aggression, though the look in the female’s eye suggests that mating may be on her mind. Let’s wait and see what she’s after—” On screen, Kate reached the foreground and the bottom of her boot came up and disappeared below the lens’s periphery. The camera and its operator toppled over backward and the shot went up into the sky and treetops.
Real-life Kate gawked.
The scene changed to footage of Kate looking up from where she sat on a boulder in a desert, perusing a wild edibles field guide. It was their trip to Nevada. Ty’s voice came from behind the unsteady camera he was filming her with.
“Kate?” The voice paused. “Kate? Katie? Miss Somersby? Personal Assistant, I need you to personally assist me.”
Kate remembered that. Ty had been winding her up the entire morning on purpose. He got that way when they’d been out on location for more than a couple of days, like an overtired child.
“Katie? What are you doing? Kate? Katie?”
The Kate on-screen glared up with a supremely irritated face. “What?”
“Can I autograph anything for you?”
She shook her head to express her supreme lack of amusement.
“What are you reading about, Katie? Share your wisdom with the viewers at home.” The shaky camera zoomed in on her face as she looked up again.
“I’m trying to ascertain the most effective mushroom for putting one of us out of your misery, Ty.”
“Poison, eh? That reminds me of a cracking song of
f that Bell Biv DeVoe album we listened to on the Yucatan. Sing it with me now, Kate.” He began to sing the beginning of the track.
Finally, on-screen Kate smiled. “You are the most insufferable man on the planet.”
The screen froze on Kate grinning in disbelief, against her better judgment. Ty’s postproduction voice-over started up.
“This week we’re bringing you a very special episode of Survive This! I’m Dom Tyler, and I’m going to share with you some invaluable tips and techniques for surviving in one of the harshest environments on the planet—my company. Because behind every jackass, there’s a great woman.
“Kate Somersby here is the foremost expert in the world in this field.” Footage of Kate sharpening an intimidatingly long hunting knife by a fire. Wading knee-deep in the Amazon, clutching a wooden spear they’d been taught to fashion by a cooperative native tribe, ready to strike. Kate, rendered green and gray by the night-vision setting of the camera, half-awake in a sleeping bag in a tiny tent they’d shared during an overnight trip in British Columbia.
“You’re creepy,” on-screen Kate said to the camera with a yawn before turning over and going back to sleep.
Real-life Kate, perched on the end of her bed, felt her heart knocking wildly against her ribs. What on earth was this about? Why was she on television?
Ty’s voice went on. “It was decided very recently that this show is not going to be returning for another season.”
Kate’s body gave a little jump of surprise and horror.
“But I couldn’t let it end without showing everybody who is the real brains and brawn behind Survive This! It’s this woman, right here. Kate is my entire off-camera, on-location crew. My assistant, camerawoman, associate film editor, researcher, occasional driver, PR agent, nurse, stylist, therapist, babysitter and partner, in just about every sense of the word.…”
The entire hour-long show was promising to be like this—clips of Kate doing all the things she did behind the scenes. Catching food, assembling camera equipment, hauling water and frame packs and firewood, cocking a rifle… Kate looking dazed in a chair beside one of their regular film editors back in L.A., bleary-eyed at about 4:00 a.m. after hours of feverish digital postproduction work.
