The Reality O

by Candy Sloane

  Garrett attempted to keep the camera steady as we hit turbulence, the helicopter wobbling like a drunk sorority girl, like the person Kappa really should have been paired off with.

  My stomach dropped, and Garrett covered his mouth with his free hand.

  “I am not having a repeat of Cowboy,” I said, reeling back.

  “I’m fine,” Garrett said in the same way he said I would be, which made it not even slightly comforting.

  I looked at MD’s hand on my lap as he squeezed even tighter. “Are you afraid of flying?”

  “I’m not usually afraid of anything,” he said, “I mean, I’ve opened someone’s chest before, so this should be nothing, right?” He forced a smile.

  “Which means you are afraid.” I couldn’t help laughing. I was exhilarated. Pure adrenaline shot through each limb like hot, sticky lightning. Maybe if this orgasm thing didn’t work out, I could become a skydiver.

  MD’s smile was candid. “Okay fine, a little. When I’m opening someone’s chest at least I’m in control.”

  “You like being in control?” I asked, a sensual lilt to my voice that was intentional. I usually wouldn’t have gone straight into dirty talk, but what the hell—we all knew why we were here.

  “In the operating room, that’s no question. In the bedroom it depends on who else is there. I’m flexible, in more ways than one,” he growled intentionally.

  I laughed.

  “Too much?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “I think all of this is too much.”

  “Not if it gets me closer to you,” he said, moving his hand up my thigh.

  I liked his words, I even liked his hand, but it was still hard to know if it was him or the ten grand pulling the strings. Guys said anything to you to get into your pants. On this show they got money for their trouble, too.

  “Chris,” I heard Scott’s voice in my headset. “No one else can hear me, only you. I’m watching Garrett’s feed, nod if you understand.”

  I felt myself turn white, but forced myself to nod.

  Of course, just as I was starting to get comfortable with one of the Gasms, Scott had to swoop in.

  But who was I kidding? Comfortable wasn’t good enough. Not anymore.

  “I’m so sorry about last night,” Scott said. “I wish I could be the one holding your hand right now, shouting and laughing with you as we hit turbulence, kissing you as we fly past a daylight moon.”

  “Beautiful, isn’t it?” MD asked, pointing out at the view of L.A. with our clasped hands. We were just above the Hollywood sign.

  “So since I can’t be there,” Scott said, “let MD take my place. Kiss him like he’s me. Touch him like he’s me.”

  I shook my head.

  “You don’t like the view?” MD asked.

  “No, the view is great.” How could I explain what Scott was saying to me? Asking me to do?

  “V, please,” Scott said, “the sooner you find a viable contestant the sooner we can be together. I know you want me as badly as I want you. After last night I don’t think anyone has ever wanted anyone as badly as I want you. I can’t stop thinking about how sweet you tasted, how soft you felt, the animal moan escaping your lips when I put my fingers inside you.”

  I couldn’t breathe. Scott’s words took me back. His tongue was on me, heat pooled between my thighs.

  I launched myself at MD, kissing him hard enough I thought the helicopter would roll from the force.

  I heard Garrett’s breath quicken as he zoomed in on us. At least he wasn’t talking. I could handle having my eyes closed and pretending to kiss Scott, but if Garrett said, “Just like that,” or “Oh yeah,” or anything really, I might have had a repeat of Cowboy.

  “He is me, V,” Scott said in my ear. “He is everything I can’t be for you right now.”

  I ran my hands through the back of MD’s hair. His kiss wasn’t as searing as Scott’s but, with his voice in my ear, it was a decent substitute. The whop of the helicopter blades seemed to move in time with our mouths, our tongues.

  “It’s my lips on you, all over you. All I want is to get you alone so I can make you come so hard ‘Yes’ is the only word in that beautiful head of yours, on your begging lips.”

  My mind rewound back yet again. Scott’s lips and tongue were on me, and I was sinking against the wall.

  Without even thinking I climbed on top of MD. The helicopter swayed.

  “Stay in your seat,” the pilot said, “helicopters count on balance.”

  “Keep going,” Garrett instructed, even as it sounded like his breathing was labored. We ignored the pilot, MD (Scott) and I in full make-out mode, the kind where your whole face hurts while the rest of you hums.

  “You are so hot,” MD said.

  “No,” Scott said, “you’re more than that. You’re gorgeous and complex and funny and smart, and in nine days I’m going to rip off your bra and use it to fasten your hands above your head so I can take you to the edge without any diversions. Get you closer even than you were last night before pulling back and bringing you there again and again until my name and ‘please’ become your mantra.”

  The helicopter continued to sway. “Either get them to stop,” the pilot said, “or we’re going back down one way or another.”

  The helicopter pitched severely and Garrett called, “Cut.” It came out in a gurgle.

  I couldn’t stop. With Scott’s voice in my ear all I heard was Action! Go!

  That is, until the sound of the retching filled the cabin. MD and I both looked up from our make-out to find Garrett’s face in a sick bag.

  “I told you,” the pilot said, shaking his head.

  For a show that was about all the things that happened before you got pregnant, there was an awful lot of “morning sickness” going around.

  MD suggested I get rid of Professor at that night’s elimination. He said he was a pretentious asshole. I hadn’t seen that in any of my interactions with him, but what did I care?

  It was hard enough to pretend to care about making these choices. When it came to actually making them I needed all the help I could get.

  In my room later, soaking in a much-needed silky vanilla bubble bath and relishing the one area besides the toilet that was camera and microphone free, I figured MD’s suggestion was probably strategic. He’d wanted me to get rid of the other intellectual. Perhaps thinking he could connect with me mentally before he connected with me vaginally.

  I’d considered inviting MD back to my room after elimination, but Garrett said MD was getting too much screen time and nixed that idea.

  “I don’t know anyone else well enough yet,” I’d said.

  “Exactly,” he replied sternly, even though he was still green around the gills from the helicopter ride. “That needs to change tomorrow. Try not to get hit with anything or puked on.”

  “Will you be within spewing distance?” I’d mumbled as he walked away.

  I should have screamed it. Why was I always keeping my feelings hidden? Too bad MD wasn’t a psychiatrist. I could have asked him if part of the reason I’d never had an orgasm with someone else was because I was afraid to let someone else see me that vulnerable, that voracious.

  I lay back. The bubbles in the bath covering my ears, soft popping noises enveloped me as I closed my eyes and breathed out.

  At least there was always a bath to escape to.

  I exhaled again and sunk my head lower, so the water danced against my lips. The cordless phone hanging on the wall beside the bathtub rang.

  You’ve got to be kidding me.

  I ignored it, exhaling louder, trying to counteract its insistent bell.

  It stopped and my body relaxed, just the sound of water tinkling all around me, but in seconds it started ringing again. I ducked my head all the way under, anything to shut it up. It was muffled by the bath, but I could still hear it.

  I jumped out of the tub, attempting not to kill myself by slipping on the marble floor. I wrenched it from the wall.


  “What?”

  “The question is who?”

  Scott.

  “Hi, V,” he said.

  “Hi,” I replied, dripping wet. I reached for a soft white towel and wrapped myself up.

  “I know we have some unfinished business,” he said, “and since I can’t come over I thought I’d call.”

  “Talking isn’t really what I had in mind,” I said, my voice going low and husky.

  “I know, but you’d be amazed what the right words can do.”

  Didn’t I know that.

  “Aren’t the lines tapped?”

  He laughed. “No, that would be illegal.”

  At least I hadn’t signed away that small bit of privacy in my contract.

  “How’s your bath?” he asked.

  “Excuse me?” My eyes darted everywhere, looking for cameras.

  “I could tell from the motion detectors in your room that you were in the bath,” he said. “Camera, mic free, and naked, it was hard to resist giving you a call.”

  Heat overwhelmed me, so severe it stopped my breath. If it were anyone else it would have been creepy, but Scott made it seem sweet and outrageously sexy. This was the only way he could check up on me, really talk to me in this insane asylum I’d checked myself into.

  “It was pretty nice until I got interrupted,” I smiled.

  “I guess I need to make that interruption worth your while. Is your bathroom door closed?”

  “You mean you can’t tell?” I asked, gently gliding my fingers along my collarbone.

  “Smart-ass,” he replied. “Get back in the bath.”

  “With the phone?”

  “Live a little,” he chuckled. “Slide your sexy body back into that bathtub.”

  I did as he said. His voice was suddenly hotter than any touch.

  “Cradle the phone on your shoulder. I want to have you able to use both your hands.”

  I obeyed.

  “Caress yourself slowly, starting at your tits, playing with your nipples and tracing down.”

  “You’re not wasting any time,” I said, my hands becoming his. The heat of the water was nothing compared to the lava running through my bloodstream as I teased my breasts. “Can I go lower?” I managed to whisper.

  “One direction at a time,” he said. “I want those nipples so hard they are shrieking.”

  “Okay,” I swirled my middle finger in blindingly burning circles around each nipple until they were throbbing.

  “Slip your hands down to your stomach,” he said, “and don’t you dare go any lower. I’ll know from your breathing.”

  “I’m there,” I said, pressing my fingers into my pubic bone like I was slamming the brakes on a car.

  “How badly do you want to touch yourself?”

  My fingers quivered. “So, so badly.”

  “You need to wait.”

  “I can’t,” I begged, “I can’t wait anymore.” Those were the words I had been keeping inside, and I was sharing them with Scott. Telling him I needed it, wanted it. Was going to do whatever I had to do to get it.

  He smacked his lips together in satisfaction. “Just another second—get drunk on that anticipation, V.”

  I dug my fingernails into my skin so hard I could feel welts starting to form.

  “Please, Scott,” I said.

  “Those are the magic words,” he sighed. “Now you can play with yourself.”

  I eased my fingers down. I was sopping wet even in the water.

  “Take one hand and spread until you can get right at your clit.”

  I moaned.

  “Slick your pointer finger against it, slowly, very slowly,” he instructed.

  I moaned again.

  “Slowly, I said.”

  I managed to measure my movements, but I couldn’t keep myself from whimpering in delight again.

  “Slower, V, this is my movie. Your pleasure escalates at my pace. I control when you come.”

  “Okay,” I breathed, slowing slightly.

  “Stick one of your fingers inside, but keep rubbing yourself.”

  “Only one?”

  “Make it two,” he bargained, “I want you to fuck yourself good and hard.”

  I arched my back involuntarily, pressing against my hand as I slid two fingers in.

  “Now a little faster. You’re going to come like my mouth is on you.”

  I could feel the pressure building, the tightness inside me about to go. I’d masturbated before, but never like this. Never with a man’s voice guiding me—Scott’s voice guiding me. Scott’s words making me frantic to fuck myself good and hard.

  “Thrust those fingers in deeper and keep rubbing that clit.”

  My body was on fire. My breathing so erratic I felt faint. Pleasure slipped up from my toes to the tips of my hair, again and again. It almost felt like being electrocuted, my body trembling involuntarily with each shock. I wailed and collapsed against the back of the tub, every part of me tingling as I came.

  “Sounds like I did my job.”

  “Oh yeah,” I replied, barely able to breathe. “You deserve a raise.”

  “Does that make up for the other night?”

  “For now,” I said, forcing my hand against my pubic bone until it ached.

  “Okay,” he said. “Even though my cock is throbbing, I didn’t touch myself at all. I only focused on you. Now we’re even.”

  “Let me help you take care of that, then we’ll really be even,” I said, noticing that the bath water had grown cold.

  “I want to hold off until it’s your hands on me, my hands on you, my cock tearing you in two.”

  “Come over,” I said.

  “Soon,” he replied. “And V, if you liked that—just wait.”

  Even though it was only eight more days, I didn’t think I could.

  Episode Five: Food Fight

  Allie and I headed downstairs. Wardrobe put me in green plaid Capri pants and a short sleeve button-down. She was in black short shorts and a tight, bright aqua tank top.

  I looked like I was going to a job interview. She looked like she dressed with the aim of never having to work another day in her life.

  All we knew about that day’s taping was it was going to take place at breakfast. I hoped it wasn’t a reveal what you’d like to do to me involving food contest.

  But knowing The Orgasm Virgin, it probably was.

  “What are you all smiley about?” Allie asked.

  I guess I wasn’t hiding what had happened with Scott all that well. Honestly, I’d barely slept. I couldn’t stop thinking about how with him I felt no inhibitions at all. If he was able to do that to me and not even be in the room, what would happen when he was? When his cock could tear me in two?

  Just his words made me throb with anticipation.

  “What does smiley mean? Is that a word?”

  “Don’t change the subject,” she said.

  I tried to flatten my lips, but I couldn’t, whether smiley was a word or not, I couldn’t—mmmmmm Scott.

  “Wait, did you—” she started.

  “No,” I replied before she could continue. I knew the rest of her question: did you sleep with one of the Gasms? And the follow up: did you finally have a mind-blowing orgasm?

  I hadn’t, so saying no wasn’t a lie. Well, I had, but not from one of the Gasms.

  “There’s something going on,” she said, her eyes shifting. “I don’t know what, but something’s up.”

  Something definitely was up—my lady-boner.

  “I’m just happy,” I said. “Can I just be happy?”

  I couldn’t tell her the truth. Happy could be my only excuse. It was either that or I’d won the lottery overnight and we could leave, because I had more than enough money to travel the world and find someone who could take care of me the way I deserved to be taken care of. The way I knew Scott would when it was finally him inside me instead of my fingers.

  His voice replayed in my head again: You’re going to
come like my mouth is on you. I’d gladly take that treatment too when the time came—to come.

  “You, happy here?” she laughed. “Okay Chris, whatever you say.”

  She didn’t keep pushing. Maybe it was easier to believe me, especially since she was the one who had gotten me into this in the first place.

  After hair and makeup touch ups we headed into the formal dining room. The long wooden table had been taken out and replaced by small circular tables covered in white tablecloths and scattered around the room. The glass chandelier hanging from the ceiling was lit, even though sunlight was streaming in through the open windows. A breakfast buffet was banked against the wall.

  The steam trays were closed, but I could smell bacon, eggs, and pancakes. My stomach grumbled. Having a torrid love affair with your own hand at someone else’s command made you ravenous.

  “Is someone getting married, or what?” Allie asked.

  I didn’t care as long as it wasn’t me.

  “Hello ladies,” Garrett said, greeting us at the front of the room. “Slept well, I hope?” His eyes squinted in a way that made me wonder if he knew what I wasn’t able to reveal to Allie.

  My heart in my throat, I glanced over at the crew. Scott was busy directing the team on how to mic the tables. If Garrett really knew what had happened, Scott would not still be here.

  He would have been fired.

  A chill rushed through me, freezing my lungs in place. I could not let that happen. No matter how much I wanted to be with Scott, I needed to continue acting like the Gasms were my main focus and that I loved being dressed like a sexy Mary Catherine Gallagher from Saturday Night Live.

  Scott shot me a stealthy wink, his bright blue eyes mischievous. It was the most brazen thing he could do in a room filled with people. A wink was usually nothing, but his filled my face with a fever. Made me wish I was back in that bathtub with his silky voice in my ear directing my fingers toward ecstasy.

  “So what are we doing today?” Allie asked.

  I was glad she spoke because, if she hadn’t, I was so lost on Scott I might have forgotten where I was and slid my hand down my pants.

  “Speed dating,” Garrett explained. “Two contestants will sit at each table. You and Chris make the rounds. You have three minutes per table. When the alarm beeps you move on.”