The Reality O

by Candy Sloane

  “I guess not,” I whispered, each flick of his tongue a brick in a wall of desire he was building higher and higher. I couldn’t wait for him to sledgehammer it down.

  “I’m going to show you what I would have done to you last night if I were here,” he said, leading me over to the tub, “and you’re just going to lie back and enjoy. Take off your clothes.”

  “All of them?” I asked, because I didn’t know what else to say. I immediately reddened. Of course he’d meant all of them.

  “I want unobstructed access to every bit of that naughty little body.”

  I slid my teddy the rest of the way down and slipped out of my panties.

  “I should have demanded you naked the minute I got here.” His eyes continued to take me in as he helped me into the tub.

  The marble was sparkling clean and cold at my back and exposed shoulders. Scott straddled over top of me, his lips crashed against mine. I could feel him hard against me. I wanted him inside me in the worst way.

  I was tired of talking about orgasms, thinking about orgasms, pretending I cared enough about all the Gasms to get one. I just wanted one, with him, now.

  I reached for the drawstring of his pajamas.

  “Eh, eh, eh.” He shook his head, “You first,” he said, burrowing between my breasts and licking at my stomach.

  His fingers ran lines down the curves of my body, clawing me with want. His mouth went lower, like he had the first night he’d been to visit me, but this time I could feel the determination in each graze of his tongue. Nothing was going to stop him from his goal—my ultimate pleasure.

  I scraped my fingers through the back of his hair, moaning softly.

  He looked up at me with a cunning smile, “I think we can do better than that.”

  He went at me harder, his tongue pulsing against me as he stuck one finger inside, then another and another. I was straining against giving in too soon, but his mouth was hot and his fingers were hard and he was hitting me in all the right places.

  I could feel myself about to go, but I wanted him to feel it, too. I wanted my first big O to be with him at the same time he had one.

  “Wait,” I managed, my voice strangled, “do you have a condom?”

  “I have thousands of them,” he said, “but we’re not doing that yet. We’re not doing that until we’re out of this house and I can hear you scream, until my whole street can, sweet V.”

  His tongue went at me again, moving, swirling, circling, his fingers thrusting deeper and deeper. “Come for me,” he whispered, his words reverberating against my clit. “Come for me,” he repeated, “but quietly. I’ll taste how much you like it.”

  My whole body gave way like stepping into a warm bath, feeling the water pool around my toes and up and up and up until I was completely under. I bucked against him, wanting as much as he could give me. If I were masturbating I would have stopped, but with him I wanted more. I wanted to go deeper. I forgot to breathe, my heart seemed to forget to beat, I couldn’t see or hear or speak. All I could do was slide right into where he was taking me, down and down, hotter and hotter, wetter and wetter, ruthless for more.

  “Mmmmm,” he said, kissing my stomach lightly.

  “Holy shit,” I said, finally getting words back, though they didn’t seem like the right ones. “Sorry, I mean…”

  “No, holy shit is perfect.” His lips eased into a smile, and he kissed me.

  I could taste my satisfaction all over his tongue, and I liked it.

  “I’m glad I could be your first,” he continued.

  I wanted to bask in the afterglow, but that word reminded me. First meant there would be others. With him, hopefully, but also actual others—people who were probably asleep right now in rooms downstairs.

  “What am I going to do about the Gasms?” I sighed. I didn’t want to be with any of them. I wanted to be with Scott. I wanted him to be every first I ever had. My body was still reeling, and I wanted him again right that second.

  “Let Garrett worry about that for now,” he said, snuggling up next to me. He put his arms around my waist. I lay my head on his shoulder.

  “Speaking of, why would you work for him?”

  “This is some serious pillow talk.”

  “Well, we’re not in a bed so…”

  Scott laughed, the muscles in his chest tensing against my breath.

  “I mean, he’s such an asshole and, well, you’re just not.”

  “Considering I just gave you your first ever real orgasm with another human being, I hope you don’t think I’m an asshole.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh too, his arms solid around me. “I mean, there have to be other producers.”

  He nodded. “Sure, but when you’re starting out you don’t really have a choice.” He leaned back. “And I guess I just stayed with him because I kept moving up.”

  “But he’s such a jerk. His nickname should be Gag-ett,” I said, motioning a finger down my throat.

  Scott laughed. “You’re seriously adorable, and Gag-ett,” he snickered, “can be a total jerk, but he’s also well respected. Besides, after this I get to make the show I’ve wanted to make my whole life.”

  “Your whole life?” I asked skeptically, playing with the hair on his chest.

  “Well, since my brother was born, anyway.” He considered. “So I guess since I was six.”

  “You have a brother?” I asked, realizing how little I knew about Scott, other than that he rocked my world.

  I guess he really didn’t know anything about me either, other than what was in my character dossier—and that I’d finally just had my first real orgasm with something who had a heartbeat.

  “Yeah, he has cerebral palsy and is in a wheelchair. I feel like no one ever gets to hear his real story. People are always giving him a story. And it’s usually about feeling sorry for everything he can’t do.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said, then, realizing it was exactly what he’d been talking about, I added, “What’s his name?”

  “Taylor,” he said, “he’s twenty and still lives with my parents, but he has thoughts and feelings and a life of his own. Anyway, I found a few high functioning CP high school students I’m going to follow around. My show is going to tell their real stories.”

  “Wow,” I said, not even able to hide how surprised and impressed I was.

  “You’re a lot more enthralled with my ambitions than most of the women I meet in L.A.”

  I ran my thumb against his bottom lip. “I’m not from L.A.”

  “No,” he said, kissing it, “you’re from Maine, you’re a librarian, your parents are both teachers, and you love books.”

  “I sound seriously boring,” I pouted. I’d never thought my life was fascinating, but hearing it relayed back, it was the polar opposite.

  “I think you’re more adventurous than you give yourself credit for,” Scott said, fingering one of my nipples, “and a hell of a lot more sexy. Your body should have a warning label.”

  I laughed, tickled by his words and by his finger still teasing. “Well, now that I found someone who knows what to do with it—”

  “You have,” he interrupted. “Now we just have to complete your show successfully.” He kissed my forehead.

  I grimaced. My stomach turned to ice and fell, seemingly shattering into a million pieces. “I think that means I need to be with a Gasm.” My words came out like the air from a deflating balloon.

  “That is not what I meant at all. Lots of reality shows don’t have happy endings.”

  I cocked my head. “Even ones that are literally about a happy ending?”

  He held back a smile and sighed. “We’ll figure something out, V.”

  I looked up at him, and he kissed me on the cheek as chastely as we should have been acting this whole time. “I promise,” he added, as he climbed out of the tub.

  I heard him close my bedroom door and pictured him sneaking back down the hall to his room. I lay in the tub, naked and wrecked. All I c
ould do was hold on to the impossible hope that he would keep his promise.

  Episode Six: “Blind” Date

  We were filming a double elimination that morning.

  Allie already made a double penetration joke for the cameras. You can act like you haven’t heard it before when the show airs.

  Luckily, I didn’t have any trouble sending Tattoo and Hose packing. Their outburst made my decision easy. They both stood in front of me like little boys being scolded, their heads down as I wielded punishment. The other Gasms waited behind me, their faces no doubt smug because they believed they were still in the running—still had a chance to win the money and the undying allegiance of my vagina.

  Unfortunately, it was now devoted to Scott. It saluted him, went down on its knees for him, and kissed his feet. If it could have, it would have sewed a flag for him, Betsy Ross style.

  He worked one of the cameras as Garrett instructed me to be more specific when I listed my reasons for keeping the other Gasms.

  Somehow I came up with something for each one. Tongue was fun and a good kisser, Cowboy was polite, MD was great at taking care of me, and on and on, Gasm by Gasm I recited additional obvious, boring explanations for my “affection,” even though all I wanted to say was, I’m just doing what I’m supposed to do.

  Even though all I could think was, I’m just hoping Scott can keep his promise.

  Getting rid of Tattoo and Hose had been easy. Getting rid of anyone else would be easy but, the more of them I got rid of, the closer I got to actually choosing one of them.

  We had the day off after that, and the network limo took Allie and me to Rodeo Drive for some shopping. It idled on the street and we stepped into the first no way in hell we were ever going to afford anything store.

  It was one of those places that was more floor, mirror, and rack than clothes, more museum than store. Little did the flawless salespeople know I was an even bigger affront to everything they stood for than Julia Roberts had been in Pretty Woman.

  She actually admitted she was a prostitute instead of letting a network pay for someone to sleep with her.

  Without the camera crew, without Garrett up my ass, without continually sneaking looks and anything else I could get from Scott, it was almost like Allie and I were on vacation.

  That is, until she started acting like there might as well have been cameras following us around.

  “So, who’s the front-runner?” she asked, running her finger along the tops of the hangers on a rack of silky skirts.

  “There really isn’t one yet,” I stalled. Everything was stalling now. Everything was wanting this to be over so I could be with Scott. At the same time I was wishing it wouldn’t be over, so I didn’t have to be with anyone else.

  “Seriously, you only have six days left, Chris,” she said, looking at me earnestly.

  “Have you been spending time with Garrett, or what?” I spit.

  How could I not think her concern was guided by him? Why else would she care, unless he was asking her to?

  But why would she care even if he was asking?

  My next thought fell on my head like a brick: they were having a secret affair, too.

  Holy shit.

  Looks-wise I understood, personality-wise not so much. He must have done a hell of a lot less talking during sex than Scott did.

  “I can help you pick someone,” she said, ignoring my comment. She didn’t even seem flustered.

  “Thanks,” I said, still wary of her motives.

  “I’ve spent as much time with them as you have. I can at least give you an honest opinion.”

  “I’m an adult,” I said, my chest tightened. I suddenly felt cornered, but I knew it was only because I had something to hide. “I can make a decision.”

  “If you’re confused or something, that’s cool,” she said, shuffling with some bangles stacked up on top of the rack.

  I looked at her funny.

  “I mean, she’s hot, I get it.”

  She was talking about Tongue.

  Maybe that was what they all thought—that I really liked Tongue and couldn’t bring myself to go through with it, because I was too embarrassed to admit I was a lesbian on national TV. I wished it were that simple.

  I sighed. “I’m still heterosexual. Thanks for checking, Dr. Ruth.”

  “You can be with a woman and be heterosexual,” Allie said.

  “I know, but thanks for reiterating that. Your blessing was all I was waiting for.”

  She smiled tightly. She was annoyed. “You just don’t seem that into any of them.”

  “Would you be?”

  “I guess not.” She shrugged. “But since you have to choose, I think MD is pretty cute and Cowboy isn’t so bad, either, when he can keep his food down. Besides, you don’t have to spend the rest of your life with them.” She exhaled. “At least it’s not that kind of show.”

  “No,” I said, playing with the strap of a tank top, “I just have to lose my orgasm virginity.”

  “At least it’s not your virginity-virginity, right?” she asked, her face brightening.

  “You always know how to put a positive spin on things,” I laughed, reaching for the tank top I’d been handling. I looked at the price tag and could barely keep my food down. I shoved it back on the rack and slid the hanger along to look at the next one.

  “I mean, aren’t you even curious what it feels like to have it happen with another person?”

  I forced my eyes away from hers, pretended to study the shirt in my hand. Could she tell? Did she know?

  The cameras weren’t here. I could tell her.

  I wished I could scream that I knew what it was like and, because of who I’d been with when I found out, I really didn’t want to share that feeling with anyone else.

  But I didn’t want to burden her with that. I didn’t want her to have to keep playing along, too.

  The Gasms, Allie, and I rode in the network limo to one of the most exclusive restaurants in L.A.—according to Garrett, anyway. Not like we would know the difference.

  We all got dressed up, though. Even Wheels wore a button-down and slacks under her leather jacket. Wardrobe had me in a tight black watch plaid tank dress that looked like it had been painted on, if paint came in black watch, and Allie wore a diaphanous petal-pink silk slip dress.

  My dress was so tight that wardrobe also suggested I wear a thong. I’d never even owned one before—yet another MTV first. Unfortunately, unlike the other inaugural eroticism I’d experienced so far, this just made me feel like I had a rubber band up my ass. I was so uncomfortable that, before we left the house, I ended up stuffing the damn thing in my purse. This thrust me into yet another MTV first—going commando.

  As we headed from the hills into downtown my stomach grumbled. I was looking forward to going out for dinner, being able to order I wanted, and, hopefully, not having Garrett insistent on directing my every move. Sure the Gasms would be there, too, but Michelin Star accommodations would hopefully keep Kappa from having a belching contest at the table with Tongue.

  I stared out the tinted windows at the lights of the city and glanced back at the crew van following behind us that held Garrett and Scott. The Gasms, aside from Private and Cowboy, were doing shots. I guess because that was what you did in a limo. Allie had a couple, but I abstained.

  I had secrets now. Not that I was ever an enormous drinker, but secrets and alcohol didn’t mix.

  When we arrived at the restaurant we were greeted by a valet wearing a tuxedo. He held out a welcoming hand and said, “Good evening,” as he guided Allie and me from the limo.

  I felt like a movie star, and Allie didn’t seem to mind the treatment, either.

  When it was Tongue’s turn she told him to “Shove his hand,” and Wheels followed quickly after her so she didn’t have to interact at all.

  “Sirs,” the valet said, placing his arm at his is cummerbund and bowing to let the guys know they were on their own getting out of the car. Though, co
nsidering what they’d been called during the past week, sir was pretty good treatment, too.

  He directed us inside and out of the warm, humid night. The restaurant was beautiful—wood floors and white tablecloths, the atmosphere crisp and elegant, the din of people, silverware ringing on plates, and glasses clinking all around. Waiters huddled around tables, as abundant as penguins in the Antarctic.

  Garrett and Scott arrived and walked past us, taking in the space as they made their way to the maître d' station.

  “We have the room in back set up for you,” the maître d' announced after Garrett introduced himself.

  “Excellent,” Garrett replied. He turned to Scott. “Pass out the blindfolds now,” he said, his voice as severe as a paper cut. “We’ll want a shot of that.”

  Blindfolds?

  Maybe this wasn’t a restaurant after all. Maybe I should have left that damn thong on.

  The Gasms were drunk enough that they didn’t seem concerned by this development; even Allie seemed game.

  “What is happening?” I whispered as Scott handed me my blindfold.

  “Dinner in the dark,” he explained. “It’s all the rage in L.A. Basically your sense of sight is repressed so your sense of taste is heightened.”

  “Considering the issues we’ve had with food do you think it’s really the best idea to eat with no light?” I asked.

  Scott subdued a smile. “The waiters will lead you, and I’ll be in there taping. Garrett wants night vision, and we only have one small portable camera that can do that off-site.”

  “I’m surprised he’s not doing it himself.”

  “I think he learned his lesson on the helicopter,” he said with amusement in his voice meant for me. He slipped a tiny receiver into my ear. “Only you can hear me through this,” he whispered.

  At least I’d have his company through dinner even if he wasn’t actually on the date.

  “Blindfolds on, people,” Garrett instructed as Scott continued passing them out.

  “Are we playing Fifty Shades of Grey or what?” Kappa asked.