My nerve endings are on fire. I’m trying to search for something to say to diffuse the tense situation.
“You learned your lines?” is all I manage to say. Not very imaginative, but at least both of them are looking at me now.
With each of their gazes on me, I feel heat spread through me, together with electric shock waves, as if I’ve stuck my finger in a light socket.
“For our next blow job,” Brad starts, Scott coughs, and I’m not sure what to say. “Sorry. I mean for our next con job, I suggest we target the jewelry place.”
I see Brad grin from ear to ear. He seems to be enjoying himself. He oozes relaxation.
Scott leans back in his chair, glancing at Brad sideways. His lips curl into a little smile.
“I thought we’d agree not to go after the diamonds but focus on the one gem.”
It is my turn for my brows to furrow. I flick through my notes on the computer. I’m pretty sure I didn’t write those lines.
“Ah, yes. Previous plans. The trouble with previous plans is, they are too predictable.” Brad doesn’t miss a beat.
“Now the gem. The gem is worth going after.”
Openmouthed, I watch the wordplay between the two of them, and I’m not sure what script they’re reading from.
“You started without me?”
I didn’t notice Ian come in, followed closely by Derrick, our director. Both sit down. Derrick pulls out some papers from his bag and spreads them out in front of him.
Ian crosses his arms in front of his chest.
He’s not bad-looking—it’s just the opposite, actually. Pronounced jaw, deep voice, and piercing…not to mention the sleek haircut. But he isn’t like Brad or Scott.
While the other two exude confidence, their energy a raw and manly one, Ian seems…off. I don’t know what it is, but he doesn’t strike me as the manly type.
All that would be alright if he could act, but Ian is a complete disaster.
Neither Brad nor Scott acknowledge Ian.
“Hi, Ian,” I greet the actor and nod at Derrick. “Ignore them, they’re just—”
“Comparing the size of their dicks,” completes Ian, and for a second silence descends over the room. Thankfully, I register there are no heavy objects any of them can pick up and use as a weapon.
“Kayla.” Derrick sits directly opposite from me. “Everyone’s got your next scenes, I assume?” The director, like me, has chosen to ignore Ian’s outburst.
Clearing my throat, I nod. Part of me wants to laugh, and the other wants to end the reading and hide in my office.
“Let’s take it from the top,” I say and look at Ian.
His expression is blank, and he makes no attempt at doing anything other than glare at each of us in turn.
Scott leans toward him and whispers something I cannot understand.
“I’m bored,” mumbles Ian, and I frown. I scroll to the correct spot on the script.
“And I think we should come up with something fresh.” I add for him, feeding him his line.
The man is driving me insane. He never seems to know his lines. And when he does deliver them, he lacks any kind of conviction or passion for his role.
Mental note to self: reduce Ian’s dialogue for future scenes. He may be off-limits, but I can make sure he takes a considerable backward step.
“Fresh, you say,” Scott butts in. “I think I can help with fresh.”
“You don’t know how fresh,” Brad adds, even though I’m sure it’s not his turn.
What are they up to?
“Like I said before.” Brad moves his head in Ian’s direction. “Before he came in.”
“What are you guys doing?” Ian cuts Brad off.
Scott chuckles.
“Antiques—we need to start dealing in antiques,” Brad continues without paying any attention to Ian.
“I’d rather deal with a fresh young thing.” Scott winks at me as he speaks.
“I’m tired of being—” Ian stumbles over the word being and stops.
“Ian.” I’m getting pissed off. “It’s not that hard—I’m tired of being the actor in your heist. I want to be more involved.”
I scowl at him, reading his lines from the script. The Kings is a TV show about three brothers planning a heist, not a goddamn Shakespearean play! What’s so hard about getting these lines down?
“Just keep up with the other two, would you?” My patience is running on super low today.
“If your writing wasn’t so extraordinarily bad, I wouldn’t have any trouble remembering or speaking them.”
At his words, I grip the arms of my chair. How dare the little shit insult my writing. And that smug look on his face is enough to want to make me hit him.
“Stooping to insults isn’t going to make you look better,” I say in the calmest voice I can muster.
Inwardly, a storm is brewing. If there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s arrogant pricks like Ian. People who stuff up and blame someone else for their mistakes really rub me up the wrong way.
“Hey, man.” Brad turns to Ian. “That’s uncalled for”
Ian glares at Brad.
“What’s it to you, Brad?” Ian emphasizes Brad as if it has four a’s and not one.
“There’s nothing wrong with Kayla’s writing,” Scott adds and smiles.
“My, my,” Ian sneers. “Two blokes drooling over Kayla. How does it feel, Kayla?” His voice is by now dripping with sarcasm.
I’m trying to think on my feet.
“Let’s just stick to the lines and say them properly.” I inject authority into my voice. My eyes search for support from Derrick, but he’s not much help.
“I would if those two wouldn’t clown around, comparing the sizes of their dicks to impress you,” Ian says, pointing at Scott and Brad.
The man is now starting to trample on my nerves, and I’m more determined than ever to kill him off, off-limits or not.
“Look, Ian.” I get out of my chair. “It’s always you who stuffs up his lines. You hardly ever remember them properly. And when you do remember them, you say them more like a zombie than a professional actor. My lunch delivery guy could do a better job than you.”
Ian is pushing his chair back, and it falls to the ground with a loud thud.
His face is redder than a tomato.
“How dare you.” His voice is barely under control. “How dare you, you bitch in heat, treat me like this?”
At his words, I feel a little heat rise to my cheeks. Who does he think he is to speak to me like this?
“She’s right, you know?” Scott now puts his two cents’ worth in as well, and Ian becomes even redder.
“You’ll be sorry, Kayla.” Ian is now shouting. “You’ll be sorry when I tell Ed.”
I watch him storm out of the room. His words perturb me only a little.
Someone is clearing their throat. It’s Derrick.
“How about we take our lunch break a little earlier today.” He glances at his watch before he adds, “Reconvene at 3p.m.”
When the door shuts, I busy myself with my laptop.
Apart from the ticking of the clock, there’s not a sound in the room.
Eventually, I look at my two remaining leads.
“Good job today,” I say and smile. I mean it. I’m not sure what the hell they were doing with all that improvisation, but I enjoyed it.
Brad grins and looks at Scott.
“Yeah, thanks, but I think we could’ve done better.”
“No, the two of you work well together. You make a good team.”
They exchange what looks like a conspiratorial glance. Butterflies multiply in the pit of my stomach. What are they planning?
“Your writing helps,” Scott says, and I know I’m blushing a little.
“You don’t have to say that.”
“No.” Brad is quick to jump in. “He’s right. Your writing is fantastic. It’s not your fault Ian is a jerk and is useless at what he does.”
&
nbsp; I shut my laptop and look from one to the other.
“Teamwork is important, and you two are team players. I appreciate that.”
Go with the flow , I hear Angela’s voice inside my heads.
Kayla
With little sweat beads forming on the base of my neck and a slight dizzy feeling, I ponder my next move. Opportunity is presenting itself. Angela’s words ring in my ears as if she’s standing next to me.
Be a bad girl, Kayla. Enjoy it and go with the flow.
With laptop firmly closed and back in my bag, I head to the door. It’s now or never.
If I want this, I need to make my move now. And in a way opportunity has just presented itself.
“ Grab it,” I tell myself.
“I’m going to have lunch in my office.” I don’t look at either of them. Instead I keep my eyes down, as if studying the pattern on the carpet intently. “Do you care to join me?” I hope I ooze total innocence.
Instead of Brad or Scott asking which one of them I’m inviting, they both say yes at the same time.
I walk ahead of them. I wiggle my ass deliberately from side to side.
My tight miniskirt rides up just a little as I walk up the staircase. I don’t pull it down. In fact, I try and make sure it rides up a little higher with each step I take.
And I walk slowly, making sure the two men can feast their eyes on my behind. With any luck, their sexual desires are fueled, and their imaginations working overtime.
It’s an hour before I normally have my lunch. I’m not prepared to entertain anyone for lunch.
As soon as we enter my sacred kingdom—my office—I turn to my two guests.
“Care for a bite?” I bat my eyelids and smile sweetly.
Scott grins, and Brad shoots a sideways glance at the other man.
“Always,” both answer at the same time.
To slow things down, I sit behind my desk. I lean forward a little to allow each of them an eyeful of the pink lace of my bra, having made sure my top is no longer buttoned all the way to the top.
Brad takes a seat in the director’s chair, and Scott sprawls out on my three-seater lounge. I knew having a lounge in the office was a good decision.
A silent thank you is sent to Angela. Angela had assured me every writer needs a director’s chair and lounge in their office. According to her, one never knows what’s going to happen and what type of seating will be needed.
Looks like my lounge is going to be needed today, at least if everything goes according to plan.
“You boys happy for me to be in charge…?” Deliberately, I leave the question open.
Scott shrugs, and Brad nods.
“I like a woman who knows what she wants.” Scott unbuttons the top half of his shirt.
I watch them both and lick my lips. Crazy lust fills my every last pore.
This is madness. When did I turn into this crazy sex-obsessed woman? What happened to the nice girl my mother had raised?
“Let me order us something.” I dial the number of my lunch provider and order my usual, times three.
“Just ring when you are at the office,” I add before ending the conversation.
When I hang up the phone, I see Brad looking at my name certificate displayed on the wall.
“In some cultures, ‘Kayla’ means ‘keeper of the keys.’” He turns toward me. “I bet you have the key to my heart already.”
Scott jumps off the couch and joins Brad.
“It also says it means ‘wise one.’” Scott nudges Brad. “You have to agree, she’s definitely wise. The way she put Ian in her place and the stuff she writes, she definitely fits the bill.”
Both look at me, and suddenly I wonder if this really is a good idea.
“A name well chosen.” Scott walks over to my desk. He sits on the edge of it and picks up my stress ball. Slowly, he squeezes and releases it and squeezes and releases it again.
“Is that what you do for relaxation, Kayla? Play with balls?”
Scott’s eyes never leave mine as he asks the question.
It’s difficult to think of an answer quickly. Watching his fingers with the ball is almost tipping me over the edge.
Part of me wants to rush over to him and start freeing his dick and balls for a play, as Scott just put it.
Movement out of the corner of my eye distracts me.
Brad has moved next to my desk as well.
“I bet you have no shortage of balls to choose from.” It’s Brad’s turn.
I decide to play the innocent, sweet little girl.
“Did I mention you both work well as a team?”
They nod.
Scott answers first. “I think you said something about it in the reading.”
“You’re not worried by what Ian said, are you?” Brad leans forward a little, his elbows resting on the desk. His upper body is bent at the hips, and from where I’m sitting, I have a nice view of his ass.
I pretend to mull over the question, only to feast my eyes for a little longer on Brad’s delicious ass.
“I’m a little worried about him running off to Ed,” I admit. “There’s something going on between Ed and Ian, but I can’t put my finger on it.”
Scott laughs.
“By something going on, you don’t mean…you know, something going on between the two of them?”
“Please.” Brad holds up his hand. “Dude, I haven’t had lunch yet, and now I feel like puking.”
The thought is so silly it makes me laugh. I feel myself relax a little. This is good; this feels right.
“No.” I shake my head. “I definitely don’t mean that sort of going on.” I, too, find the image that comes to mind too disgusting for words.
It’s not that two men together weirds me out. I’m fine with it. I just can’t imagine anyone being that intimate with Ed.
“I can’t explain it.” I shake my head. I didn’t invite these two sex gods to my office to discuss Ed and Ian. “It’s for another day.”
“I agree,” Brad says and straightens up. I hide my disappointment. “We shouldn’t waste our time talking about those two losers.”
Scott nods.
“Back to teamwork.” I steer the conversation back to where I want it to be.
“It’s all fine and good to have teamwork on the set, in front of the camera.” I pause and lick my lips. “How are you guys with teamwork outside that environment?”
I watch the two men exchange puzzled expressions.
I leave the safety of my desk and make my way toward Brad, who’s still leaning on the other side.
Scott is watching us through narrowed eyes.
I level with Brad and rest my hand on his hand. My fingers trace his fingers. I look from one to the other.
Realization registers on Scott’s face. He comes over to stand next to me.
“You want to know if I’m a team player? With Brad?” Scott pretends to study Brad. “Of course I’m a team player, on and off the camera. And if I had to choose who I would want to be on my team, I would choose Brad, no doubt about it.”
I smile and nod.
“Good. How about you, Brad?”
I look up at him. My hand travels up his arm and draws little circles on his shoulders.
“Like Scott said. Of course I’m a team player, on and off the camera. And who wouldn’t want to be on Scott’s team? Particularly if you are the—”
He does not finish the sentence.
Smart man.
Feverishly, I try and think what I am on this team. Am I the referee, the ball, the judge, the player, or the coach? There are so many options, but I can really be only one of those.
“Especially when I’m the coach,” I finish for him.
It’s Scott who grabs me around the waist, lifts me off my feet, and carries me to the couch. Briefly, I’m taken back to the other day and the canyon run.
This is total madness and so unlike me. I feel lightheaded, as if I’m floating on clouds. Gone is the prim and pr
oper girl who has never done anything slightly out of the ordinary.
Up until the other day, my sex life has been pretty ordinary.
Amazing how quickly my life has changed.
Brad doesn’t need a special invitation to come over to the couch. I’m breathing hard, and my nerve endings are on fire. If one of them doesn’t do something about quenching my sexual appetite, I think I might burst into flames.
With a sigh, I surrender to what is about to happen.
Angela was so right.
Be creative, and go with the flow.
I enjoy the attention of these two men who want to please me.
Brad
Are we really doing this?
Just an hour ago I was ready to exchange fists with Scott, and now here we are, alone with Kayla in her office. Now that’s what I call a good plot twist.
“Kayla,” I start to say, but she shuts me up fast. She closes the distance between us, grabs me by the shirt and pulls me into her. Next thing I know our lips are locked in a fiery embrace, and my hands are resting on her hips, making sure she keeps her perfect little body pressed against mine.
When I finally pull back from her kiss, I open up my eyes just in time to see Scott closing in on her. He places one hand on her waist and leans in, brushing his lips against her neck, his mouth tracing a straight line toward her ear.
Yeah, I guess we’re doing this.
“Is this what you meant by teamwork?” I ask her with a soft whisper, looking straight into her eyes. I feel my heart quickening – and my cock becoming as hard as a steel rod – and her lips slowly curl into a wicked grin. My kind of grin.
“What do you think?” She asks me, an easy laugh escaping her lips.
Taking one step back, she looks from me to Scott and then back. Reaching for us, she flattens the palm of her hands against our cocks, curling her fingers around our shafts as her grin widens.
“Seems like you’re also eager for some teamwork,” she continues, but I can barely hear what she’s saying. Right now, the only thing my brain can process is the way her hand feels on my cock.
“I’m more than eager,” I find myself saying, and then I just grab her hand and make her turn on her heels. Pushing her against the edge of her desk, I then make her sit up on it. With one hand, I throw all the documents and papers on top of the desk to the floor, my hand sweeping across the surface in a blind frenzy.
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