Indulge My Fantasy

by Whitley Gray

  “I based Frank on some guys I knew in college. What’s wrong? You look like you just walked into the men’s room.”

  Damn good idea! I wish I’d thought of it half a minute ago. I put the glass down and knotted my hands together in my lap. “This isn’t your Best Actor-winning movie.”

  “No, of course not. We already went over that. Frank isn’t a Best Actor kind of role, but I still plan to do my best with him. Is that what’s been bothering you?”

  I exhaled. “Well, yeah. I mean, the way you looked at the read-through, it was like you were trying to make Shakespeare out of it.”

  He laughed. “Hardly! The promotion tour is going to be harder than the role, but the box office should do well.”

  There went that cold little spike in my gut. “Can I ask you something?”

  With a wink, he tipped his glass toward me. “Yes, I have whipped cream when we get home.”

  I fidgeted in my seat, as much from nerves as because my panties were damp. “Well, okay. That wasn’t what I was going to ask, but it’s good to know. How did you first get interested in acting?”

  He put his glass down. His eyes narrowed a bit, like he was on edge. That made two of us. “Is this an interview? You’re not taking notes, are you?”

  “No. I just thought I’d find out how you got here. You know why I’m a mechanic.”

  He waited before answering, like he had to decide something. Finally he sat back, not looking entirely comfortable. More like he was resigned to having to answer me.

  “You know what did it for me? My mother used to read to me when I was a kid. She’d read me classics, kid’s stories, you know. Gulliver’s Travels, Alice in Wonderland, and Peter Pan, but she didn’t just read it. She acted out the parts of all the characters in the story. It got so that a simple bedtime story became an event. How many little boys do you know that couldn’t wait for bedtime?” As he spoke, that resignation gave way to a certain easy joy on his face.

  My heart leaped because this was the Aaron I wanted to know better. This was the Aaron that I crossed the country to be with. Seeing that light in his eyes made me feel normal again.

  “Was she into acting too?”

  “I guess,” he said with a shrug before sipping some more champagne. “She used to mention doing some local theater productions. I never saw her in anything. She was pretty young when she had my sister. I guess she had to give it up.”

  “She never went back to it?”

  He shook his head. “I probably caught the bug from her. On her worst day, she could still do a better Polar Express than Hanks. Like you got the car bug from your dad, right?”

  I nodded. “What did you do first? I mean, if you’d been a child model or something, I’d have heard about it.”

  His laughter wrapped around me. For a moment I didn’t care who else was in the restaurant. Hearing that sound made me feel at home in his company again.

  “God, no. I was a homely little kid.”

  “That’s not possible!”

  “Hell, yeah. I think I was born with braces. I was the fastest kid in beginner swim class because I had these giant hands and feet. They were like flippers. My head was too big for my body, and I was all elbows and knees until I turned sixteen.”

  “And then?”

  The softness on his face told me his mind and his heart was slipping back into a warm, sweet memory. I loved that I could go with him. “In middle school I got the part of Tevye in Fiddler on the Roof. I loved it. I can still recite every line of that play. Give me a line, and I’ll give you the next one.” He pointed at me with a breadstick, backing up as the waiter delivered a soup tureen to the table. “That’s when I got hooked. I think from that point on, everything in my life made sense.”

  I could’ve cried at seeing the softness in his eyes, the passion and the easy way he existed in the world. In that moment he looked the exact opposite of how I felt: He fit in. I looked away, rubbing at little at my eye and being careful not to mess with my makeup.

  I waited until the waiter was gone and then said, “Is that how you feel about Frank?”

  He waved his spoon in my direction. “I know where you’re going with this. They’re not all Best Actor-level movies. They can’t be. Even Clooney did light romantic comedies before he got the meaty roles. Can we talk about something else? It’s ruining my appetite.” That fake smile flashed across his face. He looked past my shoulder, waving to someone behind me.

  I focused on my soup. “Do I know who that was?”

  “You do if you like space adventure movies. I could probably get you a walk-on in his next one if you’re interested. One look at you right now and he’d probably offer you the lead.”

  “Don’t I need to be in a union or something?”

  “I can help you get your card. I know a guy.”

  With that, Hollywood Aaron was back. My head throbbed. I put my spoon down. “Can we go?”

  “What? Why?”

  I balled up my napkin and dropped it on the table. “This isn’t me,” I said, waving at the dress before waving my hand toward him. “And that isn’t you. Not the you I knew from the mountains. I’d like to go now.” At that moment my worst fear was that he’d think I meant go home, as in Philadelphia. I meant back to his place, but if he took me to the airport, I’d get on a plane…and promptly get thrown off because I didn’t have a ticket. Great strategy, Grace.

  “But, babe, this is the place to be. This is exciting. This is Los Angeles. I wanted to show you a great time.”

  “I’m sure it’s a great time for someone else but not for me. My idea of a great time is tailgating before a football game. Making a car run so a single mom can get her kids to school. Watching the sunset from my kitchen window while I make dinner. I don’t need all this.” I took up the napkin and rubbed it across my face.

  “Grace! Don’t!” He pulled the napkin away. It was too late because what flew out of my hand looked like the crumpled flag of an eastern European country. “Why did you do that? Why can’t you just enjoy the night with me?”

  “Because you’re the only one enjoying it.” I got up from the chair and stormed off in search of the ladies’ room.

  Chapter Twelve

  The washroom attendant smiled and nodded at me as I splashed water on my face. I doubted she spoke English, but she’d probably seen more than her share of crazy ladies in her time. Likely a smile and a nod was the best answer to anything anyway.

  “Grace! Come out!” Aaron knocked at the door. “Look, I’m sorry. Can we talk about this?”

  Oh great, a spectacle. Just what I always wanted. I turned to the attendant, smiled, and shrugged. I called out toward the door. “You won’t like me. I took all the makeup off.”

  After a pause his voice changed a bit, deepened. “Did you take the dress off too?”

  Did the attendant lady just snicker?

  “No.”

  “Damn. Can I come in?”

  “I, uh, I’m not alone.”

  The door opened anyway. I felt like covering myself, but one, I was dressed, and two, it was Aaron. He’d seen more of me than my gynecologist.

  “No big deal. I’ll sign an autograph and…oh.” He waved to the attendant, saying something in a foreign language. She smiled again, nodded, and left the room.

  I gasped. “How did you do that?”

  “I’m not an idiot. When I go overseas to shoot a movie, I try to pick up a few important phrases along the way. You know, get to know the local culture.”

  “And excusing yourself for walking into the ladies’ room is in the tourist guidebook?”

  His killer smile almost made my panties fall off. “Some things you learn out of necessity.”

  I held up my hands. “Don’t tell me any more. I don’t need to know. We could talk about this outside, you know.”

  He reached behind himself, turning the lock on the door. “Yes, I know, but I couldn’t miss a chance to nail you in the bathroom of the hottest restaurant in town
. I mean, if I didn’t get to finish my soup, the least I could have is dessert.”

  I leaned on the counter to relieve my wobbling knees. “Who said I’d let you—”

  “Because even when we fight, we have chemistry.” He eyed me like I’d been on the menu. “I couldn’t get mad at you out there, even when you insulted my career decisions. The more passionate you get about something you really believe in, the more I need to get inside you. I have to feel that passion with you.”

  My heart quivered. “I, um…”

  He had put into words exactly what I felt at my core. I craved seeing him get passionate about something because I knew how hot that passion could burn. It only took a hint of that passion to make me want more. I looked to his pants. He was already ready. For all I knew, he’d been halfway there before we sat down at the table, and he’d sprinted across the restaurant with a raging boner. Lucky me.

  “We might, uh, make a mess of your tux. This is a bathroom and all.”

  He pulled his shirt free as he walked toward me. “We’ll make it work. We always do.” His hands were slightly less than gentle as he pulled the skirt up to my hips. “Remind me to thank Deborah for this dress. Easy access.” A flick of his fingers, and my panties dropped to my ankles.

  He didn’t give me time to think. In moments his pants were open, my knee was at his hip, and his fingers parted the lips of my pussy, paving the way for his generous throbbing cock. Another breath and he filled me.

  I gripped his shoulders, desperate to hang on to something and not fall. I moaned his name and found his rhythm, matching stroke for stroke.

  “A little quieter, baby,” he whispered as he nipped my earlobe. His hand slid under the bodice of the dress and squeezed my breast. I saw stars, but it felt so good that I pressed myself into his palm, hoping to see more. “Someone might be outside listening.”

  I dared to let go of him, to reach back, and to grab his ass, pulling him harder into me. “Isn’t that what you want? To be caught? Here?”

  He pulled his face back and looked at me. A slow, wicked smile lit his face. “Maybe. Would you mind?”

  “I’m up for anything, as long as it’s not out there.”

  “Why?” He tugged down the strap of the dress, shifting to feast on my breast.

  The heat burning inside me built, banked, and raged. I was losing my grip, my breath, and my mind, pushing with all my might and willing him deeper. I needed all of him inside me when I came, when my body wrapped around his and dragged him up to the heights of pleasure with me.

  “I didn’t want all that. Just you. Only you.” Always you.

  He rammed into me, knocking my bare ass into the counter behind me until it was easier to sit on it and hygiene be damned.

  He rained kisses up my neck and then suckled hard at my throat so hard I knew he was leaving a mark. His mark. Something anyone outside would see. Discretion be damned too.

  “Your wish is my command, my lady.” Then all speaking ceased, all rational thought ended, and I closed my eyes and surrendered to the wet heat of my climax raining all over me and all over us.

  Chapter Thirteen

  By the time Aaron escorted me out of the restaurant and onto Hollywood Boulevard, my body still hummed with pleasure. There was no fighting the grin that lit my face and probably the rest of me too. We hadn’t been on an airplane, but I felt like we’d just joined the Mile High Club. And, admittedly, it was fun to watch all the mouths fall open as we walked out of the ladies’ room together.

  “I should thank you,” he said. “You probably saved me from a four-figure dinner bill. I only had to pay for the champagne and the soup.”

  The plastic smile on his face cooled my happy little orgasm buzz, but then I looked past him to the people watching us. Punctuating the nearby horizon were cameras raised in our direction. Paparazzi. I bristled at the sight of his fake smile, but at least now I understood why it was there.

  “You’re welcome,” I said. “I hope you left a nice tip.” I’d have attributed the chill I felt to the evening air except this new coldness seemed to come from inside me. Because I knew these pictures would publicly link me with Aaron—I didn’t want to piss Abigail off—I fixed a stiff smile in place. Everywhere I looked, someone else raised a phone or camera our way. I couldn’t stop seeing the people watching us. My fists curled, and the urge to slug someone for violating our privacy was becoming overwhelming. To my surprise, it made me miss home that much more. No one watched my every move this way at the shop.

  I looked at Aaron. Here was proof he was a damned good actor, because he looked like none of this bothered him. While his smile was pretty for the cameras, I could tell it had no feeling. I hated that he had to act like this in public. With me. It made me a little afraid to wonder how much acting he did in his real life.

  The limo pulled to the curb. Aaron shook the valet’s hand—no doubt with a bill tucked in his palm—and then pulled the door open for me. Anxious to get away from the spectators, professional and otherwise, I all but fell into the rear seat.

  “Dammit,” I said “These shoes are gorgeous, but I’ll never get used to walking in them.”

  He settled in beside me like he’d been born there. “Slip them on when you’re with me, and I’ll make sure you don’t do much walking,” he said. He looked at me, his smile warmer and much more him until he met my gaze. “What?”

  I held on to my elbows, hugging myself to try to get some warmth back in my bones. “How do you deal with that all the time?”

  The heat of his hand on my leg did wonders for my body temperature. “What? The fans?”

  I nodded. “I guess they’re okay. I mean, I’d probably do the same thing if I wasn’t in here. But the other guys. The paparazzi. They look at you like they’re wolves with cameras. I thought I was smothering out there.”

  He pried my hand off my arm, before lacing his fingers through mine. “You get used to it. Sometimes you get a little too used to it.”

  “I’ll never get used to that.” The very idea wrung my stomach like a wet dish rag.

  “That’s outside,” he said, laying my hand on his lap. His thumb stroked slow spirals around my palm until each turn seeped that much more body heat back through me. “That can’t get to us now.” He pressed an intercom button in a panel beside his seat. “Take us on the usual tour, Henry, will you?”

  “Yes, sir, Mr. Elias.”

  There came the cold again. I pointed to the intercom. “And that. That’s not normal. People treating you like you’re some kind of rock star. I want my normal back.”

  That flash of boyish grin might’ve lost me my panties if I were wearing any. “That’s my kind of normal. I kind of am a movie star, you know.”

  “I get that,” I said. “At least, I’m trying to. But part of me still sees the guy who stoked the fire at my parents’ house and got me drunk on crappy Cabernet.”

  His fingers pressed harder against my palm, setting my nerves pleasantly on fire. “Are we talking about the fire in the fireplace or—”

  “Yes, that too.” I squeezed his hand. “I know you’re not like me, but that’s who I knew you as first. Not this showbiz guy who has people following him around with cameras. Who tells people what to do, and then they do it.”

  “Oh really? Because I seem to recall someone looking rather starstruck over the hood of my rental car.”

  I looked out the window, keeping my smile to myself. “I got over that.”

  “And what do you mean not like you? I’m just like you. How could I be any different?”

  “You have this job. You make huge amounts of money. You travel all over the world and get paid to kiss beautiful women. I go to the same garage five or six days a week and get covered up to my elbows in grease, and that’s on a good day. I come home with the same salary every week, and I go to the shore for Memorial Day. You’re a person. I’m just a people.”

  He slid my strap down and kissed my shoulder. “Oh, so now you’re impressed with
me. Why not back in the restaurant where I could’ve showed you off to everybody?”

  He had a point. I was so lost in thought that I hardly noticed when half my dress slowly slid off my body, because his hands were slipping beneath the fabric. The heat level under my skin began to rise at about the same time the words formed the next sentence in my brain.

  “Because there I had to share you with all of them. I only wanted you all to myself the way it was in the mountains.” Then my breast was bare to the air, a moment before his palm warmed it again.

  “I don’t get that luxury in my line of work,” he said, his other hand working down the zipper of the dress. “You can work on your own with your face under the hood of a car, and you hardly ever have to talk to anyone. It seems lonely to me, but it’s what you like to do, and you’re good at it. I’ve seen you. But this is what I like to do, and I’m good at it.” As he said that, the other side of my dress fell away, and I was topless in the backseat of a moving limousine and helpless to do much of anything about it. His touch paralyzed me, left me weak and powerless. And I loved it.

  My head fell back. “You’re good at a lot of things.”

  I felt the stubble on his cheeks move as he smiled beside my throat. “I know, but I mean the things I get paid to do. You think we live in different worlds and we’re different people. I agree, but I also think that’s fine.”

  The idea chilled the surface of my skin. Or maybe someone had cracked a window? No, it was my heart cooling off, wasn’t it? “What do we do about it?”

  The bodice slid to my waist, as did his hands, slipping under the hem and pulling it up so that the dress became little more than a belt at my hips. “Nothing. Hmm. Someone’s not wearing any panties.” His hands slid along my thighs, pulled them open, and bared me to what daylight made it through the tinted windows.

  “Nothing?” I wasn’t sure he could hear my voice. I wasn’t sure I could hear it. Maybe it was only a really loud thought. Then I didn’t hear anything else as his fingers slid inside me and I lay back, into his arms, into his control.