For Research Purposes Only

by Sahara Kelly

  Jack ran his hands through his hair. “You mean go get truly blitzed and not surface until Monday morning?”

  “If then.” Chuck grinned.

  “Sure. What the hell. We all need a break. We’ve been pushing ourselves to get this one in on time, meet those fucking exec deadlines. We’ve damn near done it.” He sighed. “Okay. I’m officially declaring this weekend a holiday. No personnel need report until Monday, but they’d better show up at some point during the day. We need to finish off the post-prod stuff. I’ll be glad when this is done.”

  “You sound…tired, Jack.”

  He stood and stretched his spine. “I am, Chuck. Very tired. Of everything.”

  Chuck’s eyes narrowed. “That’s a pretty profound comment.”

  Jack snorted. “Chalk it up to the late night Friday blues, okay? I’m outta here.” He grabbed his jacket and waved a casual farewell to the engineer.

  Chuck watched him leave.

  Jack Foster had been damned good to him, and Chuck had known him for years. They’d met as interns, gotten drunk together, gotten laid together, and Chuck realized this was the very first time he’d ever heard the word “tired” come out of Jack’s mouth.

  He began to close down the equipment, shutting off the software, setting up the lab for the new workweek, and doing tasks he could have done with his eyes closed. And, in fact, sometimes had. All the while his mind turned over what Jack had said.

  And most especially how he’d said it.

  In Chuck’s experience, Big John Johnson had never been tired. He’d been filled with enthusiasm for his art, involved himself in the films with a passion that had led them all into money and glory, albeit within the field of porn. He’d won awards for all of them and shared the credit unstintingly. His staff liked him a lot, and recognized his talents for what they were. They’d all ridden his coattails for the last few years, and it had been one hell of a ride.

  But Chuck wondered now if Big John and Jack might well be heading for a parting of the ways. If Big John the moviemaker would always be there, but perhaps Jack Foster was a man who had reached his limits.

  And perhaps if the owner of that little scrap of lacy lingerie might have something to do with it.

  He grinned to himself. Jack was a helluva guy with a seriously perverted sense of humor that had resulted in some classic pranks over the years. Perhaps it was time for a little payback. If Jack was doing some serious thinking about his future, Chuck might not get another chance, and he still owed him for the business with the transvestite hooker and the goat.

  He knew very well what “close the set” meant. It meant Jack was bringing a special guest over to show her around and impress her. Probably Miss Scrap-of-White-Lace. It had been Chuck’s experience that outsiders were always seriously impressed and turned-on at the thought of seeing the inside of a porn studio.

  They’d all done it at one time or another—it was sort of an unspoken perk. Hell, bankers probably showed off their vaults, and he’d bet his last dime that retail store stockrooms had probably seen plenty of action too. Guys used what they could. They were guys.

  With a laugh tickling his throat, Chuck decided to help his buddy along a little. The harem set was still in place, and he quickly tossed in some extra pillows, a few lengths of exotically colored silk, and some flavored massage oil. The good stuff.

  They were all props that had been used recently, and Chuck doubted Jack would notice they’d been rearranged a little. He made sure the sound system was clean, the lights set up just right, and the large screen positioned so that whoever was on the huge bed could see the image filmed by camera one. It was a big help to the actors and actresses, not only helping them get their positioning just right, but also turning them on.

  Not that it required much, of course. Most of them loved their work.

  Nodding, Chuck looked at the scene—an odd blend of Middle Eastern decadence and state-of-the-art video technology.

  Then he went back to the control room and flicked one small switch.

  In the ornamental frame of the bed, a small red light flickered to life, all but invisible within the heavily carved decorations and jewels of the Sultan’s bower. As was the motion-activated high-powered lens beneath.

  Chuck left the building satisfied. He’d give Jack a memento of whatever was going to happen tomorrow. It would be his parting gift.

  Because deep inside, Chuck knew that this was probably Big John Johnson’s last film. In an odd, bittersweet way, Chuck envied him.

  He shrugged off the feeling and headed out for a beer.

  * * * * *

  Daphne dithered all Saturday afternoon.

  Standing in front of her closet, she stared at the array of conservative clothing, and wished for once she’d actually been brave enough to buy something—sexy.

  She’d showered, shampooed, conditioned and shaved herself darn near raw. She’d done all those pre-date things the magazines said were essential to a good time, and it had been rather exhausting.

  But nothing was worse than standing and looking at a rack of outfits that could all have easily been classed under one word. “Neutrals”.

  They were…practical. They matched. They coordinated and fit into the lifestyle of a sober-minded librarian. Most of them were washable. And not one of them looked in the least bit seductive.

  In spite of herself, Daphne blushed.

  Yes, she wanted to look seductive tonight. To go out on Jack’s arm and not look like his pity date for the millennium. Not that he’d ever made her feel that way. Au contraire. He made her feel like…like the most sexual woman, the most desirable woman…okay, Daphne, get real.

  He makes me feel like a wanton sex goddess and I love every second of it.

  And tonight was going to be for him. Or them. Hopefully both. Now if only she had something in her wardrobe suitable for a wanton sex goddess, rather than an efficient librarian, she’d be all set.

  One of the biggest problems was that she had no idea where they were going. He’d gone all mysterious on her, teased her with a promise of help for her research, and kissed her goodnight. Her toes curled at the memory.

  She shook her head at herself and reached for her classic shirtwaist…suppressing the thought that it might not be the most flattering color in the world, but at least it was easy to get out of.

  Daphne, you’re a slut.

  She made herself a cup of tea and grinned, and the grin was still firmly in place when she slipped into Jack’s Corvette that night.

  “You look lovely.”

  “Thank you.” She smoothed her skirt. “I wasn’t quite sure what to wear, since you wouldn’t tell me where we’re going?”

  He snickered. “Nice try, honey. But if I had, it wouldn’t be a surprise, now, would it?”

  She tried to frown at him, and failed. How could she frown at someone who looked so damn—yummy? His hair was soft and silky and just brushing the collar of his pale green shirt. He had no tie, and his khaki pants were pressed and smooth. But one look into those green eyes, and he could have been wearing year-old flour sacks for all she cared.

  “Good point.” She let her eyes feast on the delectable picture he presented. “It’s probably inappropriate, but may I say that you look very nice too?” Actually, you look like my every dream come true.

  Oh heck. This man was big trouble. Her heart thudded as he grinned at her and thanked her, a little awkwardly. And that was funny, too, since she couldn’t imagine a man like him not being used to receiving compliments.

  She had no idea where this relationship was going, and at this moment she didn’t care. She was in his car, by his side, and he was smiling at her.

  Life was perfect.

  It might not hold a picket fence, two-point-three kids and a dog, but what the hell. For right now, it was perfect.

  She was with the man she loved.

  Who apparently enjoyed seafood. “You’re not allergic to shrimp or anything are you?”

&nbs
p; He glanced over at her as they pulled in to a parking lot next to a small restaurant.

  “Nope. No food allergies.”

  Jack blew out a gust of air. “Thank God. I should’ve checked first, but this place does things with shrimp that probably violate some of the state laws against extreme pleasure… I thought you might enjoy it.”

  She smiled as he helped her from the car. “Are there any?”

  He tilted his head in query.

  “Laws against extreme pleasure.”

  “For us? No.”

  And there it was again. That shiver of sensual awareness making her nipples tighten beneath her bra, her mouth salivate at the thought of him, not the shrimp, and the certain knowledge that this man was something extra-special in her life.

  She clamped her thighs together against the dampness she could feel beginning to bloom inside her thong.

  As if reading her mind, Jack’s hand slipped down to rest just above her bottom, the heat of his palm seeping quickly through the thin silk of her dress. “What color is it tonight?”

  She blushed. “Peach.” She knew exactly what he was asking.

  “Mmm. Dessert.”

  “Jaaaack…” She couldn’t help it, even though she laughed as he hugged her and led her to their table.

  Dinner was a delight, the food excellent, and Daphne couldn’t recall a thing she ate. All she could see was Jack, green eyes alight with humor, smiling at her over the dinnerware. She drank three glasses of the best white wine she’d ever tasted, and the world was perfect.

  Finally he leaned back with a contented sigh. “You want to check out the dessert cart?”

  “Oh lord no. I’m fine. This was…” She waved her hand over the litter of shrimp exoskeletons. “Awesome. Which is why this table looks like something from my high school biology class. And the wine was just…mmm.”

  He grinned. “Thought you’d like it.”

  She stared at him. “You’re an awful tease, Jack Foster. I’ve been sitting here like a good little dinner date, making polite conversation, dissecting my shrimp, and all the while you know darn well I’m very curious about where you’re taking me tonight.”

  “Really?”

  “Jack. The suspense, as they say, is killing me.”

  “Well, we can’t have that. I want you very much alive.” He stood and held his hand out to her. “C’mon then, Miss Curiosity.”

  She put her hand in his, loving the warmth and strength of his fingers as he tugged her to her feet. Within moments, he’d slipped some bills under their check and they were off to the Corvette and…where?

  She giggled with anticipation. “This top secret thing…should I be blindfolded or something?”

  He choked. “Um…maybe later.”

  “Uh…I didn’t mean…oh good grief.” Daphne blushed bright pink.

  Jack’s roar of laughter followed the car as they sped into the darkness.

  Chapter Twelve

  Jack knew driving through the gates of the studio complex would be the riskiest part of this whole surprise. His Corvette was very recognizable—probably its only drawback, but he was trusting to luck that the night guard would be in his usual position. Thumbs wrapped around his handheld gaming unit, and mini surround sound speakers plugged into his ears.

  His luck held. With no more than a cursory nod, the guard waved Jack through and Daphne’s eyes widened as he pulled up to a low building.

  “Jack…this is a movie studio.”

  “Not just any studio, honey.” He leaned closer. “A porn movie studio.”

  She gasped. “Really?”

  He couldn’t help grinning at her expression, which held an equal mix of fascination and horror. “Yeah really. I thought you might like a look inside. It’s empty…nothing’s going on right now, but…I have a friend…he set this up for me. It’s all ours. You can prowl around to your heart’s content.”

  Which was, in essence, the truth. Big John Johnson was his friend. Although right now, he seemed like a very distant acquaintance, because the more Jack was around Daphne, the less interested in Big John he became.

  At some point he knew he was going to have to sit down, probably with a bottle of Scotch, and figure out why this was. But not right now. Not when Daphne was staring around her in awe, and blinking as he led her down a dark hallway and onto the set.

  He flicked two switches and a soft pink light lifted the darkness.

  “Oh my gosh…” Daphne’s head swiveled around as she tried to take it all in at once. “Look…oh my.” Her eyes had lifted to the ceiling and she craned her neck at the jumbled assortment of lights suspended from the black surface. “All those chrome things…and the black ceiling tiles. Why is it black?”

  “Stops any ambient reflections. These cameras can be unforgiving, and lighting is a very important part of any film. The wrong reflection at the wrong time and…well…you’ll see the leading lady’s acne scars instead of her porcelain complexion.”

  “And this…” She paused next to a tripod. “This is an actual camera?”

  “Yep.”

  “It’s smaller than I thought it’d be.”

  “Digital, babe. The big boys still use the heavy equipment, but nowadays smaller places like this one go digital all the way. Records directly onto a hard drive, with the option of a videotape as well. Makes the rest of the process much easier.”

  He heard Daphne gulp as she realized what she was looking at. “Good grief.” She glanced at Jack. “This is the biggest bed I’ve ever seen.” She gingerly touched the gold quilt with a finger.

  He grinned. “Well…given the subject material, a regular queen size wouldn’t really cut it, would it?”

  “I suppose not.” She pulled her finger quickly back.

  “Don’t worry. It’s clean. I…I’m told this studio has a reputation for taking care of stuff like that. They buy props by the dozen and strip them after each day’s filming. That way by the time they’re used up the first set’s been dry-cleaned and is good to go.”

  “Ah.”

  She moved away from the bed and glanced at the walls leading from the studio to another area. They were prominently displaying the current crop of stars. In an assortment of poses that hadn’t made it to the posters.

  Daphne cleared her throat as she stared at one particularly well-endowed blonde.

  Jack came up behind her and slid his arms around her waist. “What do you think?”

  “That they’re probably not the ones she was born with.”

  Jack chuckled and squeezed her. “You’re right. Just about all these folks have been surgically enhanced.” He dropped a light kiss on her head. “And for the record…” His hands moved upwards and brushed the curve of her breasts. “I like the real ones much better.”

  “Jack?” There was a question in her voice.

  “What, honey?”

  “Why do people watch this stuff?”

  “Why?” He blinked.

  “Yes. Why. It’s a multi-million dollar industry. This…” She waved her hand around the set. “This is obviously an expensive set-up. So the money’s there. But I haven’t been able to figure out why.”

  Jack thought for a moment. “That’s a helluva question, babe. And I don’t think there’s any kind of simple answer.”

  “It’s okay. Really. Just something I’ve wondered about.” She blushed. “Especially recently.”

  “You mean since we met?”

  “Well, yes. We did sort of meet in the middle of a field of…of…adult entertainment stuff, didn’t we?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So that, along with all my other research…it sort of got me thinking.”

  “Well, that’s good.” Jack tugged her away from the wall and back to the bed. “Let me see if I can show you something. Sit here.”

  He pushed her down onto the edge of the bed and folded her hands across her lap. “Now, look up there and tell me what you see.”

  He touched the small power switch to cam
era one and the huge plasma screen flickered to life.

  Daphne gasped. “Good lord.” She raised a hand to cover her mouth. “That’s me.”

  “Yep. That’s you. As the world sees you. An attractive, intelligent woman.”

  “Thank you.” Daphne looked uncertain.

  “Now. I want you to unbutton your dress. Slowly.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me. Look, I’ll make it easier.” With fingers that seemed unusually stiff, Jack unbuttoned his own shirt and shrugged out of it. “Now. I’m your director. You’re my star. Take off your dress, slowly and carefully.”

  “Jack, I…”

  “We’re alone, sweetheart. We both know we’re going to end up naked together tonight, one way or the other, because there’s simply no way I can keep my hands off you. I want you, Daph. And perhaps I can answer your question along the way.” He tipped his head. “And you want me too, don’t you?” Please God let her say the right thing.

  She met his gaze steadily. “Yes.”

  He felt the smile curve his mouth. The world had just settled into a new and better place. His woman wanted him. “So…Miss Movie Star. Start undressing.”

  She lowered her head and fumbled with her buttons, stopping at the third one. “What’s my motivation?”

  To prevent your date’s cock from exploding? “What?”

  She chuckled. “Aren’t I supposed to have some sort of reason for doing this?”

  Jack closed his eyes for a second. “Yep. Gimme a minute here.” She was going to kill him with her sensuality and not even understand why he was lying dead on the floor.

  “Uh…you’re a temptress. A seductress.”

  She snorted.

  “No, go with me here, babe. You’re going to seduce your man tonight.” Like it would take more than a goddamned sneeze. His pants were already strangling him. “You’re going to slowly take your dress off, just letting him get a glimpse of those peach undies.”

  Daphne giggled. “Okay. Silly, but okay. Wouldn’t he prefer to do it for me?”

  “Daphne. Stars don’t argue with their directors.” And may God forgive me for that whopper.