by Alexis Angel
Just as I’m about to let go, there’s a knock on the door.
“Kane?”
The banging on the other side of the door has nothing on the banging going on inside, but it still makes me growl in frustration. This damn production assistant has interrupted me getting it on in my dressing room one too many times. I think he might get off on it a little. Hell, he probably stood outside the door listening for a while before he even knocked. It wouldn’t surprise me if he walked in here right now at full mast.
What can I say? I have that kind of appeal. Women love me. Men love me. But more than anyone, the young girls love me. Thanks in no small part to my role on the show. I’m the father figure. The silver fox—minus the silver. The producers love to pair me with all the hottest young actresses. It definitely keeps ratings up, no doubt about it.
I can’t complain. I have a string of women lining up for me every day of the week, and I make sure to satisfy as many of them as I can. I’m in and out of the tabloids as often as I’m on the cover of some magazine or another declaring me the sexiest man alive.
The fame’s great—especially the women it brings—and I love what I do on Manhattan Reign, but I do hope this season will get me a nod on the awards circuit. I’m not just a hot body and a chiseled jaw with a smoldering gaze and panty-melting smile. I actually have some talent. A lot, if I’m being honest. I come by it naturally. My father is an Oscar winning film star—but I’d like to prove that I’m talented in my own right.
“Kane,” the production assistant calls through the door again when I don’t answer. What the fuck does he expect me to do? Stop railing the hot girl bent over my sofa? “You’re needed out here. Like five minutes ago. You’re needed for the audition this morning.”
I groan. I totally forgot. Hot women and their even hotter pussies tend to do that to me. “Give me five, dude,” I call back, then turn my attention back to the pussy currently convulsing around my throbbing cock.
“Kane,” the woman wails as I send her into orbit with her third or fourth orgasm—or is it fifth? I’ve lost count.
Then I give in to my own need as I pull out and hot jets shoot from my cock, stream after creamy white stream of cum spraying all over her back. I grin in satisfaction. A naked woman’s back never looks better than it does covered in my cum.
I slap her ass and stand up, grabbing a towel from a table and cleaning myself up real fast before tossing it to her. Tucking my cock back in my pants, I give myself a quick glance in the mirror. With a smile and a wink, I cock my fingers like guns. So what if it’s fucking cliché? I look fucking awesome, even after an early morning of shooting scenes.
Grabbing a headshot off the stack I keep on the side table for just such an occasion, I bite the cap off a Sharpie and sign my name to it, handing it to the girl still slumped over the arm of my sofa.
“Take your time getting dressed,” I tell her, giving her my most charming smile when she looks up at me. “I’ve got to get back to work.”
I don’t tell her not to be here when I get back. My assistant takes care of the ugly parts. But really, she knew what she was really asking for when she gave me that look when asking for my autograph. They’re all the same. I wonder if I’ll ever get tired of a string of random women?
Then, laughing to myself at the stray thought and wondering where the fuck it came from, I head out the door and saunter down the hall, energized for the audition I’m about to stand in for.
2
Sasha
Tap, tap, tap.
The producer, a man in his fifties with bags under his eyes, drums his fingertips across the table as I wait in front of him with my hands folded over my lap. There’s a nervous smile on my face, and I can already feel the muscles on my face cramping from keeping that smile for so long.
“Where the hell is he?” He grumbles to himself, impatiently rapping his knuckles on his desk. We’ve been waiting for Kane for thirty minutes now (or has it been longer than that?), and there’s still no sign of him.
“It’s okay,” I say, but I doubt that the producer, Ryan, has even heard me. Judging by the pissed off expression on his face, he’s definitely not okay with Kane being this late to my audition. Which I understand completely; I’m pretty annoyed myself.
I’ve been rehearsing my lines all morning, and I’ve kept them on the tip of my tongue for so long that now I’m afraid of drawing a blank the moment I look Kane in the eyes. And the more the clock ticks, the more I’m afraid of that happening.
Keep it together, I think to myself, taking a deep breath as I try to calm myself. I really can’t screw this up today. If all goes well, I’ll get a part in Manhattan Reign ...and that’s pretty much the dream for a struggling actress like me. I mean, acting on dental floss commercials and stuff like that sure helps paying the bills, but it doesn’t really compare to being part of the hottest drama on cable TV. With an obsessed fan base spread all around the globe (not to mention all the critical acclaim), a show like this is the dream. If I play my cards right, Manhattan Reign might be my launch pad to success.
“Good morning, everyone,” I hear Kane suddenly say as he bursts through the door. I have my back turned to him, but I’d recognize that voice everywhere. After all, more than wanting a role in Manhattan Reign, I’m also a fan of the show...And that in part because of Kane. Oh, what am I saying—it’s totally because of Kane.
“Good morning,” I tell him, turning around on my seat to face him. The moment my eyes lock on his, I think my heart stops. He’s so much taller in real life...And more than just taller, he’s also much more handsome. Million-dollar smile, pronounced jawline, and a proud chin that tells me he wouldn’t look out of place with a crown on top of his head. And the suit – sweet Mercy, is it even legal to look this good?
“So, what’s the scene?” He starts, sitting on the empty chair next to me. Lacing his hands behind his head, he leans back against the seat and throws his feet up on the desk, much to the dismay of the producer.
“This is Sasha,” the producer replies with a cold tone, casually waving his hand at me. “She’s one of our final candidates for the role of Katya.”
“Katya,” Kane whispers, taking his feet off the table and reaching for the script sitting on table. Flipping through it, he then looks at me with a curious expression. “That’s the foreign exchange student, right?”
“Yes,” I nod, “Katya’s going to be your daughter’s rival. Your TV daughter, I mean.”
“Yeah, I don’t have a real life daughter, so…” He laughs, and that makes me feel even more nervous. I definitely can’t screw this up. It’s almost a miracle that I made it to the final audition round, and now that I’m looking Kane in the eyes...Yeah, I have to get this role.
“Alright, let’s get it over with,” the producer tells us with a bored tone, looking at the script in his hands. “This is the scene where Katya starts flirting with Kane, seducing him...Let’s see if there’s some chemistry between the two of you.”
“Got it,” I nod nervously, feeling the palms of my hands grow slippery with sweat. I have a copy of the script inside my purse, but I don’t reach for it; by now, I already know each and every line by heart.
“Alright,” Kane whispers, his eyes wandering over the script as he looks for his line. Then, finding it, his expression seems to change in a fraction of a second and he looks straight at me. “Katya...I don’t know who you think I am, but –“
“Does it matter what I think?” I cut him short, adding a slight accent to my words. I lower my voice, my eyes never leaving his, and then I continue. “That’s the problem with you...You think too much.”
“And maybe you should start thinking more,” he replies, his voice stern and heavy. “You don’t care about anything, about anyone, and —”
“But I do care…” My whispers turn into a purr now, and I keep my eyes locked on his as I say these words. I let a few seconds of silence pass as I run my tongue between my lips, and I can’t help but im
agine how it’d feel to lean in and crush my mouth against Kane’s. “I care about you,” I finally add.
“Don’t,” he whispers back at me, his voice hesitant and fraught with conflict and tension. The air around us seems to grow heavy, and I can almost feel the electricity crackle in the space between our bodies. “Don’t do this…” He insists, but his words sound more like a plea for me do to the exact opposite.
“Like I said,” I raise my hand up and, reaching for him, I brush my thumb over his lips, “you think too much.”
We remain looking into each other’s eyes for a few seconds, that heavy silence blanketing the room, and I even forget that the producer is sitting here with us. Right now, I’ve lost myself in Katya, and I’m not even acting anymore...I’m truly living it.
“Yes!” The producer suddenly cries out, clapping his hands together. His annoyed expression from before has given way to one of relief, and he leans back against his seat as he looks at me. “That was great.” I start to think that he’s going to offer me the role right now, but that’s not what he does. “We’ll let you know,” he tells me, his excited tone now long gone.
Completely stunned, adrenaline rushing through my veins at warp speed, I get up from my seat and amble out the door of the audition room.
I can’t wait to tell Laurel about this.
3
TV Roundup!
Chase: Hello out there from TV Land! Guess who's baaaaaack?
Nadia: That's right folks! Chase Worthington and his trusty co-host, Nadia Moore!
Chase: Thank you to our loyal audience who called in to the network and got them to extend our contract to cover more than just The Biggest Licker.
Nadia: That's right! We're now here coming straight to your homes, giving you our take on the best of TV. Each night. Totally unfiltered.
Chase: And right now, the best of TV goes without a doubt to just one show.
Nadia: Manhattan Reign.
Chase: That's right, Nadia. And I don't know about you, but last season was tough to beat. The show has some pretty big shoes to fill this year.
Nadia: Word on the street from the lady who does my waxing is that they're looking for some new blood to spice things up.
Chase: I mean, it's already about a single billionaire dad in New York City who gets hit on by all his daughter's friends. How much more spicier do they want?
Nadia: Well, all I can say that my spies have told me is that they're looking for a foreign exchange student that moves in.
Chase: Wow. I just got kind of hard at picturing that. A cute, young, foreign exchange student in the home of an older Manhattan billionaire.
Nadia: If you want, we can role play that later?
Chase: You're the best girlfriend ever.
Nadia: As long as you let me call you "Daddy".
Chase: So that's something that's going to happen this season I think on Manhattan Reign. It's going to be interesting to see that play out on TV between the new foreign exchange student and the father if they decide to get busy.
Nadia: Ooooh yeah, it's going to be so hot. In fact, I want to DVR the episode when they first do.
Chase: Oh boy. I think I know what's coming.
Nadia: That's right. In case you're wondering, audience, what we're talking about...
Chase: That's right folks. The New York Daily Journal Television section just named Manhattan Reign as the #1 TV show in America.
Nadia: But more than that...
Chase: Right. They also named Manhattan Reign as the best television show to masturbate to.
Nadia: That just means one thing, ladies. Grab your man. Or grab your vibe.
Chase: Because if I know Nadia...
Nadia: Then you know Chase's head is going to be between my legs as we watch the next episode of Manhattan Reign.
Chase: Will I get a chance to watch the show too? Or will I just be getting you off?
Nadia: Silly rabbit. That's why we have DVR. We'll watch it while I come. And then we can play that over and watch it while I give you head. Sound fair?
Chase: Makes me wonder how old people lived before DVR.
Nadia: Ooooh, you can't say old people on television, babe. We might get fined for that shit.
Chase: Right. I forgot. Anyways, we're counting down till the night of the Manhattan Reign episode, folks! Who will fuck who? What marvelous depravity does television have in store for us now?
Nadia: Join us to find out. On...
VOICEOVER: Manhattan Reign!!
4
Sasha
“She definitely looks like a bitch,” Laurel says, taking a large bite out of her pizza slice. She’s already on her third slice, and there’s no sign of her slowing down. With a strict diet of microwave pizza and instant noodles, I’m surprised she hasn’t ballooned up.
“That’s just her role,” I reply, grabbing a second slice of pizza and trying not to feel guilty about it. “I bet she’s nice in person.”
“Nah, not a chance. Just look at the way she smiles; there’s something definitely very bitchy about it. And you know me, I’m never wrong about stuff like this.”
“Yeah, except that one time you thought you were being hit on by a pervert...And the poor guy just wanted directions,” I tell her with a laugh, propping my feet up on our small coffee table. It wobbles under my feet, and I bend over to stick a folded magazine under its shortest leg. We should've bought a new table ages ago, but there’s always something more pressing for us to do with our money, like paying the gas bill or buying new shoes.
“See? Look at how she’s eyeing him,” Laurel continues, chewing as she points at the screen. There, Kane is sitting behind his desk as his TV daughter pesters him about something.
“I see it,” I nod, watching as Alberta, the actress playing the daughter, narrows her unblinking eyes as she stares at Kane. She definitely looks entitled and high-maintenance, but isn’t that the whole point of her character? Maybe Alberta’s just a great actress. After all, she’s part of Manhattan Reign’s main cast...You don’t get a job like that without having the acting chops to back it up.
“I’d never write her part like that. It just seems so obvious, you know?” Laurel continues, once more giving me her opinion about the scene we’re watching. It’s always like this; she can’t resist giving me her breakdown of whatever movie or TV show we’re watching. It makes sense, though: after all, she’s an aspiring screenwriter slash director.
“Oh, yeah, have they called you already?”
“Who? The Manhattan Reign people?” I ask her, my eyes instinctively wandering to my phone, resting on the armrest of our old beaten down couch.
“No, the New York Patriots...What do you think, Sasha?”
“No,” I sigh. “Not a word yet. I doubt they’ll even call me...They’ll probably give that role to some big name actress, or someone with more boobs than brains.”
“Now that’s what being positive is all about,” Laurel laughs, sitting up straight on the couch. She reaches for the pizza box but then hesitates, her hand hovering over a slice. Shrugging, she then picks the slice up and devours half of it in a single bite. “If they don’t call you,” she continues, her mouth full of pizza, “that’s because they’re idiots.”
“That’s nice of you but —”
“No, seriously,” she cuts me short, wiping her chin with the back of her hand. “You were born for that role. And after what you told me about your audition…”
“Yeah, I thought it went well at the time...But now I’m not so sure. I mean, it’s been three days already. If they wanted me for the role, they probably would’ve already called.”
“Don’t be so sure of that...After what you told me about Kane, mm…”
“Stop it!” I laugh, grabbing a pillow and throwing it at her head. She moves to the side, avoiding it just in time, and shows me one big grin.
“He was totally into it, wasn’t he?” She asks me, even though I think I’ve already answered that question a thous
and times. Okay, I’ll admit it, though: I might have answered differently each and every time.
“He seemed to be,” I whisper, throwing my head back and allowing the memories of the audition to resurface. He definitely seemed into it, yeah, but that was the whole point of the audition, right? After all, that’s what acting is all about – polishing what’s fake until it becomes the truth. “It didn’t feel like I was acting, you know? It was natural.”
“That’s because it was natural,” she laughs, looking at me slyly. “From what I’ve heard, Kane is a complete man whore. I bet he was picturing you naked while you were doing that scene.”
“C’mon, stop that,” I tell her again, pursing my lips as my heart sends a load of burning blood to my cheeks, coloring them in a violent red. “It wasn’t like that.”
“No? Then why are you blushing that much?”
“I’m not blushing!” I protest, my face feeling as if it’s on fire. Although I’m an actress (or trying to be one), I’m not the best of liars. But then again, Laurel is the kind of person that seems to have a built-in lie detector. That’s my roomie, an amateur psychologist who dreams of becoming a world-famous screenwriter.
“Oh, you’re definitely blushing,” she continues to tease me, playfully punching my shoulder. “I bet you could sleep with him if you wanted to.”
“I don’t want to —”
“You do.”
“No,” I tell her, laughing. “I don’t want to sleep with him. I’m all business, baby.”
“Look at you...All grown up. Anyway,” she continues, her gaze wandering to the TV. “That’s probably for the best. I want you to be all business. After all, you’ll have to hire me as your personal assistant once you get that big break of yours.”
