Holy shit!
George Leet was probably the biggest movie producer in Hollywood. He was married, had several successful children, and multiple Academy Awards in support of his efforts. I had no idea Kelli was involved with him, and suspected Randy must have told Les whatever it was that he knew.
Her eyes slowly thinned to slits.
“Apologize.”
She leaned to the side, peered past Les, and made eye contact with me. “I’m sorry I told you to shut up. It’s been a difficult day.”
I gave her a nod. “Apology accepted.”
Les turned around and walked to my side. Kelli exhaled the oxygen that remained in her lungs, and seemed to deflate as she did so. Obviously relieved, she reached for her bag and began walking toward the kitchen.
“We need to decide what we’re going to do with this segment,” she said over her shoulder. “I can’t do anything with what happened in the garage. It’s nothing but porn.”
Les looked at me, grinned, and motioned toward her. “Let’s see what she has to say.”
We walked into the kitchen together, and Bobby followed. After we each found our place, Kelli sat down at the bar and sighed. It seemed odd, because other than when I interviewed with her, she never sat down. She always came in, barked out her demands, and left.
“We’ve only got a few days left. How am I…” She inhaled a long breath, then exhaled. “How are we going to make this segment interesting to the viewers?”
“Let them see the truth,” I said. “Show them the relationship that’s developing between Les and Randy.”
She looked at Les, apparently waiting for an answer. He nodded.
“They’ll find it interesting for sure. But dear God.” She looked at me, and then at Bobby. “This is going to be a challenge.”
“He came here in hope of furthering his modeling career,” I said. “Let them know that. And then just let them see what happens with him and Randy.”
“Give me a minute.” She sighed and then gazed down at the floor for some time. Seeming to be in a daze, her blank stare continued long enough that Les, Bobby and I shared a few awkward glances.
She looked up and grinned. “That thing in the garage was pretty sexy, though.”
“I know, right?”
She looked at Les. “You’re okay with this?”
“Completely. But.” He cocked an eyebrow. “Don’t manipulate it into some bullshit. I know you’re going to edit it. Just don’t make it some soap opera.”
“Don’t make it a soap opera?” She laughed and raised her hand. She extended her index finger. “The military hero.” She extended another finger. “The tattooed biker.” She extended another. “The jock.” She continued to extend a finger with each person she listed. “The rich brat. The pot smoking surfer. The executive. It was a perfect mix. Now, the tattooed biker is gay. And, he’s poking his ten-inch dick in my gaffer’s mouth. It’s a fucking soap opera, like it or not.”
“He’s got a really pretty cock, though,” I said with a laugh.
“It’s gorgeous.” She nodded in agreement. “But I can’t show it post-edit.”
She looked right at me, and grinned. “Are you up for a threesome?”
Every ounce of blood in my veins rushed to my pussy. No differently than most women my age, a threesome sat on my to-do list, where it would undoubtedly remain until my death. It was something I secretly wanted to do, but didn’t have the guts to admit it. Participating in a three-way would require half a dozen margaritas and a few drops of GHB.
Visions of Les sucking Randy’s cock while I rode him cowgirl style made me begin to fidget in my seat. After a few seconds, my pussy began to throb. I couldn’t believe I was not only thinking about it, but considering it. It was slight, but it was consideration nonetheless.
I chuckled. “If I was roofied, maybe.”
“I can arrange that,” she said.
“I’m joking.”
I was joking. Kind of. I searched for an excuse to agree to a three-way, and realized that the public would see it. The public which included my father and brothers.
She locked eyes with me and grinned, undoubtedly waiting for me to change my answer.
I sighed. “I can’t.”
She looked at Les. “Would you?”
“Would I what?”
“Would you agree to a threesome with her and the gaffer?”
“She said no.”
“In theory,” she said. “Would you?”
He shrugged. “Sure.”
She looked right at me. “You’ve got some thinking to do.”
“Really, I can’t,” I said.
She stood. “I’ll be back this afternoon.” Her eyes darted around the room. “Where’s my gaffer?”
Les shrugged. “Don’t know.”
“Couldn’t tell you,” Bobby said.
I didn’t respond.
I was too busy trying to decide if there was a way I could check a three-way off of my bucket list without anyone knowing about it.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“Why don’t you just do it?” Franky asked. “Hell, everyone wants to. You’ve got a chance to go for it. Just do it.”
“I can’t.”
“You won’t,” he said. “There’s a difference.”
“Whatever.”
“Do you really think I should, or are you just saying that?”
“Listen.” He gripped the side of the bar with his hands, and leaned toward me. “I couldn’t begin to tell you how many people have come and gone from this bar since I bought it. It gets pretty boring sometimes, and I ask my customers a lot of questions I probably wouldn’t normally ask people if I wasn’t a bartender. A while back, I asked the same question to everyone that came through the door for about six weeks.”
“What was it?” I asked. “The question?”
“Biggest sexual regret.”
I coughed a laugh. “And they responded not having a threesome?”
He nodded. “About ninety percent of them
“And that makes it okay for me to do it?”
He shook his head. “The only thing that makes it okay is motive, and the fact that it is what it is.”
“What is it?”
“An experience,” he responded. “Like jumping off a cliff or skydiving. Climbing a mountain. Swimming with the dolphins.”
“Have you ever?”
He nodded. “A couple of times.”
I leaned away from the bar. “Seriously?”
“Yep.”
“Two guys, or two girls?”
“Both.”
“Holy shit. Really?”
“Yep.”
“Was it--”
He grinned a shallow grin. “Awesome?”
“Yeah.”
“It was pretty good stuff, yeah.”
“Did you…you know. With the guy?”
He shook his head. “No. We just skewered her, or whatever you call it. One in the mouth and one in the twat. We tried the DP thing, but our cocks were too close, so we gave up.”
My pussy began to throb at the thought of being in a threesome with Franky. For never being a promiscuous girl, my mind was certainly wandering to places I never would have thought it would go.
Maybe it was my lack of experience that caused it.
I guessed it was possible that being raised on a farm and not having experienced all of the things that the girls in the city were able to experience on a daily or weekly basis was partly to blame for my sexual curiosities, but I didn’t know for sure.
It really didn’t matter.
“Would you do a three-way. Or four-way or whatever with all of us?”
I couldn’t believe my ears. It came out before I had a chance to stop it. It was as if my mouth spoke what my mind was thinking before it checked with my brain for authorization. Two simple sentences stood the chance of ruining anything I might expect to have in the future with Franky, and there was nothing I could do to change it.
“I might,” he responded.
Holy shit.
“Holy shit.”
I grabbed my drink and downed about half of it in one big gulp. “I told myself I wasn’t going to do anything with any of the rest of these guys. But. Really? You might?”
My heart began to race at the thought of it.
“I might.”
“What would…” I swallowed heavily. “What, uhhm. What would be the deciding factors?”
He shrugged. “Everyone wears a condom. And, it would be off-film.”
“Off-film?” I scrunched my nose. “That wouldn’t help much.”
He leaned over the bar and looked me in the eyes. “So, are you doing this for her, or are you doing it for you? I think your priorities are fucked up. She’s a big-time producer. Don’t think for one minute that being caught up in a threesome with two dudes is going to do you any good whatsoever when it’s aired on the show. The first episode was a clusterfuck.”
We hadn’t spoken about the first show, and now that he mentioned it, I realized it. His thoughts on matters were important to me, and he had made a valid argument. Kelli would use any footage of me in any manner she wished, as long as it benefitted her.
“Yeah, you’re right. Sorry I brought it up,” I said.
“Bring them across the street and leave the camera man at home,” he said with a grin.
I couldn’t tell if he was joking or being serious, but my pussy didn’t seem to care. It was throbbing with each beat of my heart.
“We’ll see,” I said, although I knew deep down inside it would never happen.
When I was a kid, I figured out that we’ll see really meant no. It was a way for my father to say no without actually saying it. Be it subconscious or simply a Freudian slip, my desire was clear.
But, it was fun to think about.
Really fun.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“Let’s get this straight,” Kelli said. “I don’t want cumshots and you two in a sixty-nine deepthroating each other’s cocks. I can’t use that. Passion. I need passion. I want to see it in your eyes. Touching, kissing. Long, lingering looks. Those things, I can use.”
I twisted back and forth on my barstool.
You might not want them in a sixty-nine, but I do.
Les looked up from his bowl of oatmeal. “You can edit out what you don’t want.”
“No shit, Sherlock. But I can’t add what I don’t have. I need those things. So give me what I want.”
“I’m not a puppet,” he said.
“And I’m not a fucking porn producer. Give me some passion.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
She looked at me. “So. You’re a no-go?”
I shrugged. “I’m afraid so.”
“Just going to sit back, watch the show, and thumb your clit?”
You bitch.
“Yeah, something like that.”
Les stood, took his bowl to the sink, and washed his hands. As he dried them on a towel, he looked at Kelli. “I’ve fucked a few girls. Kind of grosses me out to be honest, but I’ve done it. Tell you what,” he said dryly. “Why don’t you join us?”
She shot him a look. “Who? Me?”
“Yeah.” He grinned and tossed the towel on the countertop. “You.”
“I’m the producer of this show, you twit.”
“And, I want to fuck you in your tight little ass.” He crossed his arms in front of his chest and grinned. “I think it’s because you’re such a fucking bitch, but I really want to. While Randy, or hell, for that matter, Lou – while one of them holds you down by your phony-ass blonde hair. To tell you the truth, I think that’s why you make my nuts itch. Because I want to grudge fuck you in the ass.”
Her jaw went tight and she shook her head. “Fuck you.”
“You want a three-way? Let’s make it happen.” He chuckled. “We could even put a wig on you if you don’t want to be recognized. Or a mask.”
She sat with her lips pursed and stared. It was pretty obvious she wasn’t amused. I, on the other hand, was. It was all I could do to keep from busting out in a fit of laughter.
“A unicorn mask,” he blurted, as if declaring the answer to a question asked on The Family Feud. “You probably fart rainbows and barf glitter anyway, don’t you?”
I studied her as she looked him up and down. After short pause, she did it again, but her eyes locked on his waist for a moment. I shifted my eyes from her to him, and immediately noticed a fairly hefty bulge in his pants.
Talking about butt-fucking her must have aroused him. I pried my eyes away from the denim tent that he was pitching and looked at her.
She stood up and brushed the wrinkles from her skirt. “Give me passion. That’s it.”
Two things were pretty obvious. One, she wasn’t going to play Les’ game. And, two, she seemed to have interest – even if it was minimal – in his big dick.
As she grabbed her Louie Vuitton bag, her eyes fell to his waist. A short pause, and she lifted them to meet his gaze.
“Tough to keep your eyes off of it, isn’t it?” He chuckled. “Let me know if you change your mind.”
“Fuck off.” She took off walking toward the door. Halfway there, she paused and glanced over her shoulder. “Lou, take him shopping down at the boardwalk. Get him some tight swim trunks. Let’s do a scene at the pool with the three of you. Just make sure everyone gets wet.”
I’ll be wet, don’t worry.
I grinned and waved. “Tight swim trunks. Got it.”
After she left, Les sat down beside me at the island. “I hate that bitch.”
“Would you really butt fuck her?”
“Absolutely,” he said. “Just because I know she’d hate it.”
“You’ve had sex with women before? Really?”
He laughed. “I’ve experimented.”
“You didn’t like it?”
“It was okay. But really?” He shrugged. “No.”
“But would you have really done a three-way with me?”
He reached for my hand. “There comes a point in time in life where I think every girl should get what she wants. At least once.”
I liked his response. Well, except for the at least once comment. “Why only once?”
“If she got what she wanted more frequently than that?” He shrugged. “She’d be a brat.
“I’m not a brat.”
He shook his head. “No, you’re not. So, yeah, if that’s what you wanted? For your once-in-a-lifetime wish?” He chuckled. “Absolutely, I’d do it.”
“Awwe, thanks,” I said in an almost sarcastic tone.
“Listen, I like you. Hell, after this is over, I hope we can keep in touch. And Franky? I love that guy. He’s great. But, yeah. I’d do a threesome with you. Only because deep down inside you really want to. So, yeah. I’d share that with you.”
I shot him a grin. I never thought I’d be thanking a guy for offering to include me in a threesome. But it only seemed appropriate. “You’re sweet. Thanks.”
He squeezed my hand and smiled. “Ready to go shopping?”
The thought of him wearing tight shorts while he was wet and aroused was rather appealing. “I am,” I said.
I realized my time with Les was coming to a close, and I really didn’t like it. I wondered what the future with the show might bring, but no matter what it was, nothing could compare to the experiences I had with him.
“I want to keep in touch when this is over,” I said. “I really do.”
“So do I,” he said. “With both of you.”
“What makes you think he’s going to be in the picture when this is all over?” I asked, curious to hear his response.
“Gay intuition,” he said. “It’s much more accurate than women’s intuition.”
“Oh really?” I asked with a laugh.
“Only time will tell,” he said.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
I sat in the lounge chair and Les stood at the grille. While
he grilled the chicken and sausage, I sipped my margarita and feigned interest in something off in the distance. After a moment of what would later appear to be deep thought, I set my drink on the table and flipped my hair over my shoulder.
I shot him a look of hunger with a twinge of lustful desire. If there was such a thing. “How’s it going?”
Dressed in a pair of shorts that hugged his ass like a second skin, he raised the tongs in the air and turned around. “Just getting started.”
I’d only seen him in swim trunks once, so after almost two weeks of seeing him in nothing but jeans and wife beaters, it was nice to see him in a pair of shorts again.
Especially the boy shorts he was wearing.
I tried no to stare, but didn’t succeed. At least not wholly.
I was focused on the oversized package that was wadded up in the front of his shorts. It looked like he had a banana and two plums stuffed in there. Eventually, I pried my eyes away and met his gaze. “I’m famished.”
“Me too,” I distant voice announced.
I looked over my shoulder. Randy was walking toward me with a large roll of wire draped over his shoulder.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“Pool lights are out. Circuit’s overloaded. I’ve got to pull a new feeder from the main panel to the pool house.”
“Sounds complicated,” I said.
Positioned between my lounge chair and the grille, he paused. “Not really. But I’ve been busy all day, and I missed lunch. Now it’s almost time for dinner, and I’m starved.”
“Join us for dinner. We’ve got a bunch of food. More than enough.”
“I’ve got to get this done. I appreciate it, though.”
Les turned toward him and cleared his throat. Randy glanced at Les, and almost immediately, his eyes fell to the spandex-wrapped lump. After a long pause, he raised his eyes and lowered the bundle of wire.
“I guess I could do this tomorrow. As long as you don’t mind the lights being out.”
I reached for my margarita. “Doesn’t bother me.”
Les shrugged. “Me neither.”
“Count me in,” Randy said with a smile.
Randy was in his early thirties, but he was the kind of guy that could claim to be in his early twenties, and no one would question him. He was tall, cute, physically fit, and extremely tan. His hair was short, but not clipper cut, and his button nose and pronounced cleft chin were almost boyish. His nut-brown eyes topped off the ensemble.
Reality Girl: Episode Two (Behind the Scenes #2) Page 7
