Comfort 4: Command Performance

by Annabel Joseph

He took pity on her. “Where’s your clutch?”

  They located the tiny cast-away purse just as the limo glided to a stop outside her house. Mason took out the crumpled tissue inside and spit on it, then took her face in his hands as the chauffeur clicked on the bright interior lights. Mason swiped at the marks until they were gone, and then he kissed her to make the stricken look on her face go away. “I’m sorry.”

  He didn’t know what he was sorry for. For scaring her. For wanting to scare her more. For using her for his own nefarious purposes, to sort out his public relations mess. He walked her to her door as she pulled and fussed with her dress. “It’s okay,” he said. “You look fine. Don’t look guilty and nervous. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  Not that Mason cared what Daddy thought. He didn’t give a fuck, except that Miri was upset. Mason squeezed her hand as the door swung open. She couldn’t seem to look him in the face as they said their good nights. Dad slammed the door behind her and she was gone, at least for the moment.

  As Mason turned, he saw the glint of camera lenses in the bushes. The paps worked fast. I’m sorry, Miri. He really was sorry, but he felt something else too. Excitement. Had he been her first kiss? Had she enjoyed herself? The first campaign in his PR war, successfully completed. It gave him a sense of accomplishment. All in all, it had been a good night. He smiled and waved in the direction of the hiding photogs.

  Thanks, guys. Fuck you, but thanks.

  Chapter Four: Temptation

  They printed the photo of her snorting and laughing while he grinned at her. It was in all the papers and blogs—and of all the moments they could have captured, it was the one that probably best advanced his cause. He stared at it, at the laughter in her eyes, the way he gazed at her. It looked so real, so convincing. The photo made him smile even though he was alone in his studio trailer and dead tired.

  He thought the press might be buying it, because the headlines were refreshingly lacking in cynicism. His favorite was TWO WORLDS COLLIDE. The articles speculated on how they’d met, most of them bringing up Revelation, which was great advertisement for the film, completely free of charge. Shane Greenberg called to congratulate him, and exhorted him to keep appearing with her as much as possible.

  Mason pored over the photos whenever he got the chance. He analyzed. He brooded. He dissected every aspect of Miri’s touches and gazes that night, but no matter how he tried to explain her awkwardness away, it always came back to this.

  Mireille Durand was a virgin.

  He couldn’t pinpoint how he knew. After all, Mason had never once, in his entire life, kissed, made out with, or otherwise been in the carnal vicinity of a virginal woman. It had just never happened. But after considering the evidence and listening to what his own instincts had told him very clearly in the moment, he had to face the fact that he was dating a woman who was pure in a biblical sense. An untouched woman, a woman who’d never even been kissed. A virgin.

  On the heels of that discovery came another nagging question. How? And also, why? Glowering, hovering Dad doubtless factored into the equation, but still... Mason had lost his virginity behind the neighbor’s shed in broad daylight when he was thirteen years old. If you wanted sex, you found a way to get it, hovering parents or not.

  Which could only mean...Miri didn’t want sex. She chose not to have sex. Mason couldn’t wrap his mind around it.

  But she’d responded to him. He’d felt that too, on top of all the other confusions and misgivings. What the hell was going on? Mason did the only thing he ever did when his brain stopped working. He dialed Satya’s number.

  “Satya—”

  “No.”

  “This isn’t a booty call. It’s about my pretend love interest.” He sighed. “There’s a new wrinkle.”

  “There’s always a wrinkle with you.”

  “I’m serious. This is a big wrinkle. It won’t be Botoxed away.”

  “Jesus Christ, you can be corny. Okay, what’s this big wrinkle?”

  “Mireille Durand is a virgin.”

  Satya burst out laughing.

  “I’m serious. I wish to God I wasn’t.”

  “And you know this how? She told you?”

  “She didn’t have to tell me. I know when I’m hovering over a virgin with a hard-on. I had the most awkward fucking makeout session of my life last night.”

  Satya paused on the line. “So what does this mean? Who really cares?”

  He bit his lip, but the words burst out anyway. “I’ve wanted to fuck a virgin my whole life. Really, really huge fantasy for me.”

  “What the—?” Satya sputtered. “No, no, no, you can’t. Don’t even think about it. You can’t take her virginity when your relationship isn’t even real.”

  “Our relationship wasn’t real either.”

  “I wasn’t a virgin!”

  “I might never get another chance like this.”

  Satya made a sharp sound. “Good God, can you please think about what you’re saying? This relationship isn’t supposed to be fantasy fulfillment. You’re only dating her because you needed a ‘wholesome’ girlfriend to fix your image. How sick would it be to angle for her virginity?”

  Mason moaned as blood rushed to his cock. “Really, really sick,” he admitted in a strained voice. “And therefore really, really hot.”

  “Mace, listen to me. I’ve known you for as long as I can remember, and you’ve always been a nice guy. I’ve always seen you as a nice guy. You are a nice guy. But if you do this thing, you will no longer be a nice guy. It would really depress me.”

  “I’m not going to do it.”

  “You’re thinking about it right now. You’re hard, aren’t you? Damn it, are you stroking your cock?”

  Mason dropped his dick like it was on fire. “I’m not stroking my cock,” he said. He didn’t bother to deny his hardness. She knew him too well.

  “Actually, you know what? Stroke it,” she said. “Jack off a billion times if you have to, but don’t mess with her. That poor girl is doing you a favor.”

  “If she asks—”

  “If she asks, that’s different. But women don’t usually get to be twenty-four year old virgins unless they have some kind of moral or emotional stance about it all.”

  “How old were you?”

  “What?”

  “How old were you when you lost your virginity?”

  “Twenty-two,” Sats said grudgingly. “But it’s different with Indian girls, and besides, I’d seen a lot of things in my work that turned me against men. Who knows what’s going on with her? I mean, what was she doing during this makeout session? That you assumed this mysterious virginity?”

  Mason thought a moment. “She was lost.” He tried to think of a better way to explain it but couldn’t. “She was just...lost.”

  “Please be careful,” Satya begged. “Your perversions aside, she’s a person, not a sex toy. Don’t forget.”

  As if he could forget anything about Miri. The events of their date played in his head every time he closed his eyes. Her smiles, her careless laughter, her golden blonde hair piled so seductively on her head. Her panic as he smeared her lipstick. With a groan of frustration, he started stroking his cock again. The virgin thing was one of his deepest, longest-held fantasies. To introduce an innocent woman to the carnal mysteries of sex. To breach her with his cock and feel her squirming to accommodate him. To bring her to her first penetrative orgasm with patient, explicit coaching and manipulation.

  Holy fuck. He couldn’t even think about it. It was too much, too strong of an impulse. Two rounds of masturbation later, he picked up his phone again.

  *** *** ***

  Miri’s grandma had been uncharacteristically lucid for the first part of her visit today. Miri had even told her about Mason Cooke, and while she knew her grandmother had no idea who he was, she’d smiled in answer to Miri’s excitement. Miri had seen the Grammy she remembered in that pleased smile. If only her phone hadn’t kept buzzing in her purse.


  She was passing through the lobby of Willow Oaks when it rang again. Miri almost flung it across the room. Since she’d attended the Golden Globes on Mason’s arm, hundreds of “friends” had crawled out of the woodwork. People she’d only exchanged a few words with, other child stars who had treated her badly, they all called and pretended to be her long lost buddies.

  Her irritation disappeared when she saw the name displayed on her phone. She collapsed onto one of the settees. She still couldn’t quite get over the words “Mason Cooke calling” flashing on her cell.

  “Hello?”

  “Miri.” Mason’s voice was so sexy, so gravelly over the phone. She drew in a silent breath and fluttered a hand over her chest.

  “How are you?” she asked.

  “I’m fabulous. How are you?”

  “I’m... I’m...still marveling over how much fun I had at the Golden Globes. So thanks. It was a once in a lifetime opportunity for me.”

  “Once in a lifetime? No, you’ll be back there again when you’re a big time movie star. Did you see any of the pictures?”

  Miri laughed. “Yes. They’re everywhere.”

  “You don’t mind, do you?”

  “No, not at all.” Mind? Miri would treasure them forever, even if they resulted in everyone and their brother trying to call her.

  “Hey, what do you think about going out again? Something more low key this time?”

  “Where I don’t have to wear a girdle?”

  Mason laughed. “Yes. Or diamonds, or a gown. And no tuxedo for me. I was thinking about coffee and poetry. I know this place downtown, a little hole in the wall. What’s your schedule look like next week?”

  It turned out to be a high school auditorium. Mason drove her there himself. They parked in an adjacent lot and crossed the street to get in a long line. Mason wore a baseball cap with the brim pulled low, along with nondescript jeans and a gray sweater. Miri hated to tell him, but he wasn’t disguising anything. Even before the cell phones started coming out, girls were checking out the guy in the jeans with the body. By the time they got inside, Mason was signing autographs, and Miri saw tons of camera phones aimed their way.

  “Sorry,” Mason said. “The paparazzi don’t come here, but...”

  “It’s okay. It’s not your fault.”

  She didn’t mind being photographed, but she felt so awkward. Should she smile? Just act natural? She sat up straighter, thinking about the angles of her body and the things Mason’s publicist had taught her about posing for photos. Chin up. Never hold your arms against your body, they’ll look fat. Don’t slouch.

  Mason insisted on going himself for the coffee, sold from the cafeteria window in the back. It was as good as any she’d had in the fancy coffee bars. As the MC took the stage, the crowd quieted and the people hounding Mason for autographs and attention dispersed. He leaned back in his chair beside her, the rickety public school theater seat squeaking under his weight. He looked so normal.

  He noticed her watching him and smiled. Her gaze fell to his lips and she remembered his kiss in the limo. God, when he’d stuck his tongue in her mouth she hadn’t known what to do. Would he ever kiss her again? She’d been so awkward he probably thought she wasn’t into him, but the truth was, she’d just never made out with a guy before, not hot and heavy like that. She had felt flustered, frustrated by her inexperience, and yet the way he made her feel...

  She took a quick swig of her coffee and burned her tongue.

  For almost two hours, poets took turns at the microphone, some of them stammering amateurs, others wildly charismatic performers. Miri found herself caught up in the pathos and excitement of their words. The crowd was accepting of everyone, from newbies to seasoned poetry veterans. Mason wolf-whistled for the best ones, and Miri laughed and cried at the drama as the time flew by. When the MC announced the night was concluded, the crowd applauded once more and harsh fluorescent lights came up.

  Miri felt exposed. Now that the show was over, all eyes were back on them. Word had spread though the place and now the whole crowd of five hundred people knew they were there. Mason was less solicitous this time. He made excuses and ushered her out, pulling his cap lower over his eyes.

  People still took pictures. Some of them crowded close or jumped right in front of them. Mason guided her in such a way that he absorbed most of the jostling, his arm curved around the front of her like a shield, but she was still prodded and bumped. Out in the parking lot strangers called their names, running up to them. Mason kept walking, holding them off with amiable but emphatic denials. “No photos, please. Sorry, no more autographs. It’s late. We have to go.”

  Once they were in his car, easing out of the lot, she felt better. One more person pounded on the back windshield and she jumped. They sat in tense silence until he merged onto the interstate.

  “I’m sorry,” Mason said. “Sometimes if I slip in after it starts I go unrecognized, but tonight I wanted to be sure we had a seat. Once they saw you, I guess they recognized me.”

  “It’s okay, really. It’s not your fault.”

  “It is my fault.” He sounded a little testy. She felt a little testy too, on his behalf.

  “What are you supposed to do?” she asked to soothe him. “Never venture outside? Just because you’re famous—”

  “That’s what makes it my fault.”

  “I don’t think it has to be anybody’s fault. It doesn’t matter, because I had a great time tonight. I never would have known this kind of thing existed if you hadn’t shown me. So honestly, thank you. It was great.”

  He slammed on the brakes and guided his car to the side of the road. He put it in park and before she grasped what was going on, his lips were on hers. His hands cupped her chin and his fingertips stroked behind her ears as he took her mouth with firm, warm strokes. She couldn’t breathe. She didn’t want to. She went limp under his demanding kiss, feeling his strength. Feeling a strange intensity of emotion ricocheting between them.

  She wasn’t as alarmed tonight. She didn’t go all tense, because now she knew how to kiss him back. Her fingers curled in his sweater and she leaned closer, thrilling at the feel of his rough jaw against her cheek. His hands moved down her neck and over her shoulders. One arm slid around her, pulling her close, while the other cupped and caressed her breast through her top. A moan rose in her throat as he arched his head to kiss her deeper, harder. All conscious thought faded until it was only him and her and the surging energy between them.

  Then, abruptly, he pulled away and pressed his forehead to hers, his hand dropping to rest on her lap. He smoothed it over her thigh, just a moment, then curled it into a fist. They were both breathing hard. After a while, he reached to stroke her cheek, his gaze pensive, probing. His voice dropped to a raw whisper. “Miri...the last time, in the limo...was that your first kiss?”

  Miri couldn’t have lied in that moment, not with him so close. “Yeah, I guess. I told you I was lame.”

  “No. Not lame. Inexperienced.”

  Miri had to ask, even though she didn’t want to know. “Am I awful at kissing?”

  “No.” He gave a short wild laugh. “No. You’re steadily getting better. But...why?”

  Mason was making distracting caressing motions down her jaw line. She had to think hard before she spoke. “I don’t know why. I guess because when I was younger, when I should have had my first kiss, I didn’t have the opportunity. My dad always kept me and my sister on a pretty tight leash.”

  “How come?”

  “He had his reasons.” Mason looked at her, and she knew she’d have to explain sooner or later. “See, my sister... Did you know she died?”

  He looked shocked. “Your twin? God, no, I never heard that. I had no idea.”

  “It happened almost ten years ago now. Neither of us had been acting in a while, so she kind of died in obscurity. A lot of people still ask me about her.” She stared at the green and red lights on the dashboard. “She was fifteen. She died on the floor
of a nightclub bathroom. Got in with a fake ID.”

  Mason made a soft sympathetic sound. “Were you there?”

  “No. She was alone. Well, she was with all her friends who weren’t really her friends. She’d been trying to restart her career, but she got sidetracked, I guess, and...” Miri’s voice grew tight, but she pressed through the rest of the story. “She got, you know, heavy into drugs.”

  “At fifteen?”

  “The toxicology report was pretty shocking for a fifteen year old. I’m surprised you didn’t hear about that part of it, at least.”

  Mason shook his head. “Ten years ago… That was the time my career started blowing up. I was in my own little world.”

  “You know, Maddy was my twin. I should have realized how bad things were with her.” Miri twisted her hands in her lap. “I thought she had it together. She was always so much more together than me. Anyway, after that, my father changed. You know, he used to work in security. Bodyguarding. That’s how we got discovered, by some ad exec he was working for, so my father blamed himself for Madeline’s death. And my mother had just died a couple years earlier from cancer.”

  Mason whistled low. “No wonder he’s so...”

  “Obnoxious? Overbearing? I was in lockdown for years afterward. I still kind of am. He’s afraid of losing me too, I guess.”

  Mason’s expression was somber. He took her hand and squeezed it. “Poor Miri.”

  “I hated losing my mom, but I think it was harder losing my twin. It was like losing half of myself.”

  “You were so sweet together on that show.”

  “Two Wonderful?” Miri laughed. “I miss those days. I dream of Madeline all the time. I’ve never used drugs or alcohol because—well, I guess because I’m so much like her. I figured the same thing could happen to me.”

  “And you never went to any parties or kissed any boys, lest you self destruct like your sister. Oh, Miri.” He leaned close and placed a lingering kiss on her forehead, then pulled away and gazed into her eyes. “I’m sorry for the sadness in your life, but I enjoyed being your first kiss.”