Exposure

by Iris Blaire

  We stand to leave. “I really look forward to seeing how these stories play out,” he says, winking at me again.

  Does he know that’s creepy? Because it’s totally creepy. Or maybe that’s just my buzzed brain talking.

  I have to cling to Dallas for dear life just to make it out to the parking lot. Vodka and stilettos really don’t mix well at all. He even asks me how many I’ve had.

  “Oh, for the love of God,” I respond. “I’m not that drunk. You try taking shots and walking in these shoes and see how well you do.”

  He chuckles deeply, sending a shiver racing up my spine. “Alright, alright.”

  As we pile into Britain’s car, I catch her babbling about setting up the rest of the series. “…We haven’t even printed the second issue yet, so you guys are way ahead of schedule. Let’s keep it that way. We still have the pool shoot and the shower shoot to use, and of course the last shoot will be bedding Rylan, so we’re just missing one.” She starts the engine, but then quickly shuts the car off again.

  “What is it?” Andrea asks.

  “Here,” Britain says, turning back to Dallas and me with a huge grin on her face. “We’ll do the shoot here.”

  “Here?” I cry.

  “Yup,” she responds. “Here. Andrea, grab my camera case. It’s in the back.”

  “But…” I try to think up a good enough excuse as Andrea gets out of the car and opens the back. “We don’t have a story.”

  “Rylan and her professor are at a department mixer. He seduces her in the back of his car upon leaving. Bam. Story. Go.”

  “That works!” Andrea yells.

  “But my hair and makeup… it’s not done right. It’s not typical Rylan.”

  “What is your deal, dude? You need to relax about this whole people-recognizing-you thing.”

  Dallas puts his arm around my shoulder as Andrea returns with the case. I look into his concerned gaze. “You don’t want to do this right now.”

  “It’s not that,” I say meekly. “I’m just… caught off guard. I need a few moments to—you know—get in character.”

  “Let me help,” he says throatily, lowering his head. His lips catch my neck, and I release a gasp.

  “Yes, please get her in the mood so we can shoot this thing before a security guard comes around,” I hear Britain say. “That would be awkward.” She directs Andrea to hold up the mobile lighting at a certain angle.

  Dallas’s tongue darts out and swipes at my throat. The crook of his finger finds my jaw, and he forces me to look those stunning eyes, rendering me utterly useless.

  “What do you want me to do to her?” he asks Britain without freeing me from his grip.

  “Slide your hand beneath her dress so it looks like you’re fingering her. And kiss her.”

  I hold my breath as I wait for him to position me. He pushes me against the crook of the car door and the seat. “Spread your legs,” he murmurs. I follow his orders, his hand slipping up the inside of my thigh. The alcohol pulsing through my veins heightens every sensation. I’m not expecting him to go as far as to swipe his thumb along the crotch of my panties, so when I tense, he smirks and bends forward, lips brushing against my ear.

  “I can already tell how wet you are,” he whispers.

  A strangled whimper escapes my throat. Is Britain directing us? I hear nothing over my own thrumming pulse and Dallas’s hot breath.

  “Forget about Britain,” he urges me secretly, pushing my panties to the side. “Forget she’s here. Pretend it’s just you and me, Evan. Pretend this is real.”

  He drags his fingers all the way up my slit until his thumb finds my clit. He rubs in slow circles, capturing my gasp with his mouth. I part my lips for him, and this time, he accepts greedily, tongue flicking across my lower lip and delving to meet my own. He increases the pressure of his hand until I’m mewing softly into his mouth, my entire body on fire.

  I don’t know if Britain’s instructing him, but I feel his free hand dance along the collar of my dress. He pulls the left sleeve all the way down until my breast is exposed. Cupping it, he roughly pinches my nipple, a powerful wave of ecstasy ripping through my body. I buck against his lower hand. A dark chuckle bubbles from his throat, and he pulls away from my mouth just long enough to whisper, “Patient,” before kissing me deeply again. He thrusts two of his fingers into my pussy, increasing the speed of his thumb against my clit.

  Pressure begins to build deep inside of me. I murmur please over and over against his lips, and it isn’t until I’m on the brink of my release do I realize that I’m going to orgasm for the first time in front of a camera.

  For the first time because of a boy.

  Dallas

  When Evan comes, she hides it well. I only notice because I can feel it—her tight, wet pussy clenching around my fingers, the way she shudders and quietly whispers “Fuck” against my lips.

  She comes down from her high quickly, eyes widening, as if she’s suddenly growing aware of what just happened.

  What I just did to her.

  “Holy shit,” Britain breathes. “That was… intense. And now I’m really hot and bothered.”

  I keep my eyes on Evan as I removed my hand from her, wiping it on the inside of her thigh. If we were alone—if this were real—I’d lick her off my fingers.

  But it’s not real. And I was only supposed to simulate fingering her, because I have a girlfriend.

  What the fuck have I done?

  Evan sits up, her entire body still shaking. She tucks a wild strand of hair behind her ear and straightens out her dress.

  I made her come.

  Evan told me that she’s never gotten off during sex. And if she wasn’t lying, then I’m the first to do so. And I wasn’t even fucking her. Her clothes were still on.

  “We should go.”

  “You got it, lover boy.” Britain puts the cap back on her lens and hands the camera to Andrea, who continues to gape at Evan and me. “You want me to drop you off at home?”

  “Please,” I say, staring out the window and trying to control my breathing. Britain pulls out of the parking spot and turns onto the highway.

  Trish doesn’t care.

  The fact that I have to keep reminding myself of this isn’t making the situation any better. I’m losing control. Every second I spend with Evan drags me closer to the edge of falling for her.

  Yeah right, you fucking idiot. You’ve already fallen for her.

  I glance over at Evan. She legs are crossed as she stares out the window, body completely still. I can’t help but wonder what she’s thinking about. If this is just a job to her—if coming at the hand of her coworker is only another day at work. Or if any part of her feels the same way about me as I do about her.

  It doesn’t matter what she feels. You have a girlfriend.

  I have to get away from Evan. Now.

  Andrea’s phone rings, and she picks up. “Evan, it’s Delilah. She wants to go dancing. Want to come?”

  “If there will be a bar,” Evan says dryly, “count me in.”

  Britain scoffs. “We’re close to home. What about your persona?”

  “What about it?” Evan keeps her eyes glued to the window.

  Britain says nothing in response.

  “Dallas?” Andrea asks.

  “Got homework,” I answer briefly. Truth is, I don’t have any homework. Truth is, I want nothing more than to grind up against Evan on a dark dance floor.

  She is poison. She will ruin me.

  Britain pulls up to my complex. “Thanks for everything Dallas. One more shoot and you’ll have the rest of the summer off. Should have your first paycheck tomorrow by the way, if you want to stop by the studio.”

  “Thanks.” I open the door and look toward Evan. Her head is still turned away as she stares out the window.

  She says nothing.

  I shut the door, and Britain drives away.

  Chapter Twelve

  Evan

  The bartender slide
s me my second tequila shot rimmed with salt, along with a lime wedge. Without a second’s hesitation, I down it, slamming the glass on the counter and biting into the sour fruit.

  My shoes are off and hiding by the door. Beats thrum along with the pulsing array of lights. Andrea, Delilah, Britain, and Adam are somewhere on the dance floor, or so I think. When a hand presses against the small of my back, I start and spin around.

  “Calm down, stranger.” In the shadow of eerie lights, I can barely make out Adam’s crooked grin. “Just me.”

  I turn back to the bar in attempt to flag down more service, my body warm and aching for more booze. “What’s up?”

  “I came over to ask if you’d like to join me. Looks like you need to need to let go of something.”

  I release a wry chuckle. “What could have possibly given that away?”

  I finally catch the bartenders attention, and he slides me another shot, which I down.

  “You want to talk about it before you drink yourself into delirium?” he asks.

  I scoff. “With you? Unlikely.”

  “It’s Dallas, isn’t it?” When I shake my head, he continues. “Come on, Rylan. I hardly even see the two of you and it’s obvious.”

  Rylan. I forgot that Adam doesn’t even know my real name. I’m just a façade of a girl to him.

  I pull off my feelings for Dallas like they are nothing. “I guess you could say I’m into him,” I yell over the music. “Come on, Adam. My shoots make me sexually frustrated. That’s all I am. I just want to fuck his brains out, and I can’t, because he has a mother-fucking girlfriend.”

  “Is your mouth always this filthy, or is this just the alcohol talking?”

  “Fuck you, asshole.”

  He cleans close until I’m sandwiched between his hips and the bar. “Do you want to fuck Dallas because you find him particularly attractive, or just because he’s your model?”

  I open my mouth to respond, but find no words. Is he coming on to me, or am I just drunk? I study his physique. Tan, broad, blonde… “Are you like, a surfer or something?”

  Oh my god, did I really just say that? Way to sound like the dumbest valley girl bitch ever, Evan.

  He grins, “Used to be. Why do you ask?”

  “I’d just like to watch you ride a wave is all.” Wow. Runaway mouth. At least I’m being honest.

  “Do you want to dance with me or not, Evan?”

  “Fuck it.” I slam my third glass down and hold out my hand, which he takes and uses to pull me to the dance floor. God, I haven’t danced in years. Maybe since prom, sadly enough. Evan doesn’t dance. Evan sacrificed her freedom to get dolled up and go out long ago. Which was a stupid idea, considering how dark it is in this club. No one would recognize Rylan Willow in a place like this.

  Adam pulls me to him, and I soon find a rhythm to the beat. I wrap my arms around his shoulders and take in the sensation of him grinding against me, the air heavily with the smell of sweat and sex and cigarettes.

  I want to lose myself.

  I pull on his neck until he drops his head and I capture his lips with mine. When he breaks away, I ask him if he wants to get out of here.

  Britain watches me from the bar as she gulps down water. She shrugs her shoulders, as if to ask where I’m going.

  I wave goodbye to her and take Adam’s hand.

  ^^^^

  We decide on my place, since Adam has to be at the studio tomorrow anyway.

  He shuts the door to my room and throws me on my bed. I don’t even have time to react before he’s on top of me, pulling my dress up and over my head and my panties to my ankles. The boy wastes no time, retrieving a condom from his pocket and stripping. He tears open the package and rolls it on, pries open my legs, and slams his cock into me.

  I cry out and grip on the headboard. Before he sets a steady pace, he bends forward and bites down on my nipple. I drown myself in the rough, thrilling pain of it, begging him to fuck me.

  He flips me over, digs his fingers into the flesh of my ass, and complies.

  Dallas

  I’ve already run six miles this morning and could run another ten. It’s a healthy way to channel sexual frustration, but I decide to give myself a break and get coffee after my shower. I text Britain to see if she’s up so I can grab my paycheck. She texts back and tells me to come over, so I get in my car and head to the studio.

  “In here,” she calls from the dressing room when I walk inside. She’s sitting on the makeup counter, watching Delilah get her hair done.

  “Good morning,” I say, setting my coffee down.

  Delilah glares at me.

  I cock my head. “Bad morning?” but before she can respond, Britain holds out an envelope.

  “Thanks,” I say, taking it from her.

  “Evan won’t be up for a few hours,” Britain says. Delilah scoffs.

  “That’s okay. I brought shit to study.”

  “Great.” Britain holds up her finger. “Actually, before you do, you mind running an errand for me? We’re out of hairspray, and there are a couple bottles in the bathroom next to the bedrooms. You know where it is, right?”

  Evan’s bedroom door is closed when I passed it. Ten o’clock and she’s still out—I guess the club was fun. I shuffle around through a bunch of girlie crap in the bathroom before I find a two pack of hairspray and grab it.

  When I’m back in the hall, Evan’s door opens, but she isn’t the one to walk out. I freeze in my steps.

  Adam yawns and pushes back his hair, turning my way. He spots me and nods, walking around me and into the bathroom.

  What the fuck?

  I creep to Evan’s open door. She stands by the window with her back to me in nothing but booty shorts, and pulls a tank top over her head. She shakes her hair out and turns around. When she spots me, her face falls into shock.

  “Dallas?”

  She fucked Adam. Evan fucked Adam.

  “What are you doing here?”

  I hold up the hairspray. “Running an errand.” Before she can respond, I leave her doorway and walk down the hall as fast I can before I punch a hole in the wall.

  She’s not yours to be angry over. She’s not yours to be angry over.

  She fucked Adam.

  I storm back into the dressing room and slam the hairsprays down on the counter. Britain jumps. She lifts up a crumpled plastic bottle, liquid seeping from the lip of the cap. “Whoa there, super Hulk. You were supposed to get the aerosol cans.”

  “The what?”

  “Aerosol. You know, the hairspray in the metal cans?”

  “I don’t even know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

  “Calm down, dude.”

  “I’m not going back up there.”

  Her eyes widen. “Oh, shit. You saw…” her mouth snaps shut, and she nods rapidly before she says, “Why don’t you go take a swim? It’ll cool you down.”

  “Cool me down from what?”

  “I’m your boss. Just do what I say and don’t argue with me, okay?”

  I growl and spin, punching open the dressing room door. I listen to Britain because I can’t think of what else I can do—other than run some more. But I know running won’t work. I tried running already.

  I tried running and now I feel even worse.

  She fucked Adam.

  Maybe I should wait for him to come into the studio, and then what? Start a fight with him—over Evan? I can’t do that, because she isn’t mine.

  She isn’t mine.

  At the pool, I strip to my boxers. I don’t know how long I’m swimming laps for, but when I finally rest at the edge of the pool, the sun is in the middle of the sky.

  I pick up my phone resting on the concrete. No missed calls from Tricia. No texts.

  “I’m in love with her,” I say out loud, because out loud is the only way I can convince myself that I really feel this way.

  I’m in love with Evan Cosette.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Evan
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br />   Adam acts like there is nothing different between us when I see him in the dressing room an hour after he left my bed.

  Thank God.

  Not that last night was a mistake, because it wasn’t. I needed a bit of sex in my life—it’s been way too long and I’ve been way too sexually frustrated as of late. I mean, it would have been better if Adam was courteous enough to get me off….

  “You.” Britain points to me and snaps her fingers. “My office. Now.”

  Britain looks pretty serious. The gossip must be juicy.

  She ushers me out of the dressing room and into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her and locking it. She spins toward me, and to my surprise, she looks pissed. “What the fuck were you thinking, sleeping with Adam?”

  “I… what? Did you hear us or something?”

  “Oh Christ, Evan. Everyone knows!” she spits.

  I sit on the toilets. “I’m confused. Does this have to do with not sleeping with coworkers? Because I don’t remember us ever establishing that rule.”

  “No, you moron. This has to do with Delilah being in love with Adam.”

  My jaw drops. “Excuse me?”

  “But you wouldn’t know that, because you’ve been a bit self-centered over the past couple of months.”

  I stand. “What the fuck, Brit? I’m sorry that wanting to get into a good grad school has made self-centered. I can’t be hanging out with you guys every fucking second.”

  She steps toward me, her face solemn. “Face the facts, Evan. You didn’t know that one of your best friends had feelings for a guy you just slept with, grad school or no grad school.” And with that, she spins on her heel and leaves me alone in the bathroom, feeling like the biggest tool imaginable.

  I had no idea that Delilah was into Adam, and he obviously seems to not know either. I mean, how could he, with all of the faux flirting and sexual tension?

  How can he separate what’s real and what isn’t?