by Piper Rayne
Right before I enter the elevator my phone vibrates in my purse. I pull it out to take a look as the elevator starts and stops, letting people on and off.
Cole: Tahlia mentioned that you got a call back. Good luck today. Head over to the bar after and I’ll buy you a celebratory drink. No whiskey I promise. ;)
Wow. That’s almost sweet of him, though I’m not sure what to think given the fact that we haven’t even spoken since the kiss. Even so, I smile down at my phone, probably looking like a lunatic. The elevator dings again and when I glance up I realize it’s at my floor.
“Excuse me. Excuse me.” I push my way to the front of the car and make it out right before the doors pancake me. I take another quick glance at my phone before I put it back into my purse.
“I see that guy’s still putting a smile on your face.”
My head snaps up to see Kelsey standing in front of me. I’m impressed that I even remember her name because I usually have the memory of a goldfish for things like that.
“You got a call back, too,” I say, ignoring her comment about Cole.
She nods enthusiastically and I take in her outfit. Kelsey has on a pair of black cigarette pants and a dressy, patterned tank top. She looks like she’s ready for a night out with the girls and I look like I’m ready for church.
“Okay, why do I look like Dorothy from The Golden Girls compared to you?”
She laughs. “You’re so funny.”
She’s cute. She thinks I’m joking.
“Really though. The least I could have done was go for the slutty one, Blanche.”
“When HR called, she said to wear something I’d typically wear if I was headed out to dinner.”
Crap. I must have missed the memo.
“She didn’t tell me that.” My stomach feels like I have a carnival ride spinning around and around inside it and I suck in a breath and place a hand over my middle.
“We’re interviewing for different jobs. Maybe it’s just the sportscaster position they wanted in more casual clothes. She said they’re trying to appeal to a younger demographic.”
“Yeah, maybe.” I chew on my bottom lip for a second. “How did you do?”
Now she looks nervous. “I think I did okay.” She shrugs. “It’s hard to say. They don’t really comment or anything after you’re done.”
“Okay, well, I’d better get in there.”
“Good luck,” she says brightly.
“Thanks. Same to you.”
As I head off to my on-camera testing I find myself hoping that she gets the position just as much as myself.
The studio lights blaring down on me feel oppressive, like a heavy blanket smothering me, but I smile into the camera.
“Okay, so just read from the teleprompter and deliver the lines while looking straight into the camera,” the producer says, standing back by the cameraman. “We’ll cut to tape and when that’s finished rolling you’re up again. Don’t worry about the content at this point. We just want to see how you do on camera.”
I suck in a big breath and nod.
“Do you have any questions before we begin?”
“No, I think I’m good.”
“Okay then. Roll tape.” He counts me down and I smile while I wait for the theme music for the station before I begin.
The words scroll past on the teleprompter and I speak in my most natural, articulated voice without giving too much thought to the content.
“Last night was a big one for the San Francisco Film Society as they hosted yet another successful opening night for the city’s annual Film Fest. Producers, actors, and screenwriters alike joined the public for the debut of some of this year’s most talked-about films. While everyone had plenty to say about what they saw on the big screen, the fans’ eyes outside were on some of the up-and-coming stars who stepped out onto the red carpet.”
The prompter says, “Cut to tape,” and so I smile in what I hope is a natural way at the camera.
The tape starts and I look behind me to where something has caught my eye. The TV built into the wall replays footage of expensively dressed people smiling and posing for photos on a red carpet, some of whom I recognize as being actors and actress who’ve recently broken onto the scene. It cuts to an interview with a blonde woman I don’t recognize and then they pan to the man she’s with.
A man I know.
Because he had his tongue down my throat a few days ago.
Cole is there with his arm wrapped around the waist of an exotic-looking woman. I know for sure it’s him because his name is listed underneath as if the universe is really trying to rub it in.
My mouth dries and my throat tightens in response.
I don’t think it’s recent because the Cole on screen looks a little different than he does now, but seeing him on there enjoying the company of another woman stings. It’s a reminder of who he is and how he treated me all those years ago. And then I think of what was taken away from me back then and my heart begins to beat harder in my chest as the memories of the disappointment and hurt I dealt with flood through me, filling up every crevice.
I stare on as the interviewer finishes up with her questions for Cole and then the screen goes blank.
I will not think about this now. I will not think about this now.
Somehow, I manage to turn and direct my attention back to the teleprompter and carry on with a smile. Once I’m done, the producer thanks me for coming in and telling me that I should hear something within the next week or two.
Nothing seems to be going according to plan lately and I leave there with my fingers and toes crossed that this might be the one thing that works out the way I’m hoping. I’ve had enough surprises lately.
18
I decide that I will head over to the Thirsty Monk to see if Cole is around. Besides, we still have a couple of locations to visit and we need to discuss when we’re going to do that anyway. These are the kinds of excuses you tell yourself when you’re trying to justify your behavior. I just don’t want to face the fact that I shouldn’t accept Cole’s invitation to hang out.
Opting for the bus over Uber seems like the responsible thing to do since I need to watch my spending, so it takes me a while to make it to the bar. By the time I do the heels I’m wearing are stabbing my feet and I just want to sit down.
As soon as I enter the pub I glance around. There’s only a few other people here, which I suppose is normal since it’s just after lunch on a week day. I spot Cole speaking to the blonde bartender from the night I met him. They appear to be deep in conversation and I don’t want to interrupt so I slink off and sit in a booth in the back corner. I can still see them from here and I watch as Cole’s face turns serious and he places a hand on the girl’s cheek. He nods and then she says something else. She’s gazing up into his eyes like he’s her savior or something but damn it, I can’t see Cole’s expression. They embrace and a sickly feeling invades my stomach, which I know is not good news because I should not be feeling anything other than disinterest at the fact that Cole is hugging another woman. But that combined with the tape I saw at the audition has me wondering why I even headed over here.
They separate and she goes back behind the bar to do whatever it is stupid girls who hug their bosses do, and Cole turns to head in the direction of the kitchen. He must spot me out of the corner of his eye because he whirls back and locks his gaze with mine from across the room.
There’s a brief second where his eyes flare and a panicked look creeps into them, but it’s gone just as fast. I wonder if he’s concerned about what I saw. The earlier expression is replaced with a slow, easy smile as his long strides eat up the distance between us.
He looks good today. Damn good. He’s wearing a worn pair of jeans and a plaid lumbersexual shirt that’s fitted enough to see how fit he is underneath. His sandy brown hair is a little messy and though he’s not sporting a beard, the five o’clock shadow is in full effect.
“Hey.” He slides into the booth on the
opposite side of me. Cole smiles and it seems genuine, which is good because I was beginning to think that I was a complete idiot to come here. “How did the interview go?”
“It went okay. I managed not to make a complete ass of myself, so that’s a bonus.” I shrug, feigning nonchalance I don’t really feel.
“Any idea when you’ll know?”
“They said they’d call.”
“Well, at least they didn’t say thanks but no thanks.” I think he’s trying to give me confidence about the whole thing, but there’s only one thing on my mind.
“It was interesting actually. I had to read off the teleprompter and then they cut to tape and there you were. Being interviewed by one of the reporters on screen.”
He leans back into the booth and laughs a little. “Really? What the hell was I talking about?”
“It was the film festival here in town. You and your date were being interviewed.”
He looks amused. “Oh, I remember that.” He laughs and shakes his head. At some memory, I guess. “A friend introduced me to Sarah Morgan before she hit the big time and I agreed to go with her.”
“Sounds fun,” I say, sounding less than enthused.
“Do you know her? She’s a crazy bitch. I couldn’t get out of there fast enough that night.”
“Oh. I thought maybe you two had been a thing.”
He shakes his head, his eyebrows almost raising to his hairline. “Not likely. I like my women low-drama and she’s about as far away from that as you can get.”
I simply nod. I’m sure I’ve probably played my cards and made it obvious that the idea bothers me, but if Cole picks up on it he gives me a free pass because he doesn’t say anything about it.
Underneath the table I toe off one of my high heels and then the other because the leather digging into my skin is beginning to feel like either a new form of BDSM or prisoner-of-war torture.
One of my shoes drops noisily to the floor below and Cole leans back to look under the table.
“Sorry. I can’t wear these any longer. They’re killing me.”
He chuckles. “I don’t understand how you women wear those things. I mean, I’m grateful, but your feet must sting like a bitch in them.”
“Just a little.” I grimace. I bend one of my legs so that I can reach my foot and begin massaging a sore spot.
“Here, let me.” Cole gestures for me to stretch my legs across to the other side of the booth. I’m not sure what to think. But since my feet are screaming for some relief I don’t think long about it. I lean against the bench seat and stretch my legs across and into Cole’s lap. His hands delve beneath the table and take one of my feet gently into his palms.
He begins massaging my foot and oh, my God, I think I could orgasm right here in this booth, it feels so good.
I let a small, satisfied moan escape and close my eyes for a moment.
Cole chuckles. “The look on your face right now reminds me of when you come.”
My eyes snap open. “Excuse me?”
His thumb presses into a divine spot in my arch and my eyes drift closed for a second. He lets a low chuckle escape again.
“I said the expression on your face when you moaned reminded me of when you come.”
It’s safe to say that listening to Cole talk about me coming is a turn-on based on the way my nipples stiffen and I grow wet between the legs.
“H-how would you know?”
That lopsided smirk he has, the one that could probably talk me into doing almost anything with him—and for all I know did that one night we were together—forms on his face and he just grins at me without answering.
“You’re making that up.” I huff and cross my arms over my chest.
He simply shrugs. “Okay.” He sets down the foot he’s working on and exchanges it for the other one, gently removing my other shoe.
“Okay?” I say with as much attitude as I can jam into those four little words.
“Okay, if you say so.” He presses his fingers deep into the balls of my foot and damn it, my eyes close again.
He chuckles.
“Seriously, Cole. Tell me.”
“Uh-uh-uh. You’d better be nice to me or I don’t have to tell you anything. Remember our deal?”
“That reminds me. You didn’t tell me anything the last time we were together and I was nice to you all day. You owe me.”
“Hmm. That’s right, but you’re not being nice right now so I think that negates any previous interactions.”
I clench my teeth and suck the skin from my cheeks between them just so I have something to bite down on. In my best sing-song voice I continue. “Cole, will you please tell me what you’re talking about and whether you’re making that up?” I give him a saccharine smile.
“I suppose that will do.”
And then he doesn’t say anything.
“Well?”
“You are so easy to rile up, you know that?” He chuckles.
I release another huff of frustration. “Would. You. Please. Just. Tell. Me?” I grit out.
“All right. All right.” He locks stares with me and doesn’t as much as blink when he says, “You came on my hand.”
“I did not.” I don’t know why I’m arguing because it’s not like I actually know what happened most of that night.
“You did.” He has a smug smile on his face. “Would you like me to tell you about it?”
Pride makes me want to pretend that I don’t care what he has to say, but curiosity and the need to know exactly what we did together win out. “Please,” I say in a small voice.
He leans over the table a bit and lowers his voice to speak. “Well, after we got back to my place and you were all over me you told me how turned on you were and how wet I made you.” Heat rushes into my cheeks and I stiffen and try to pull my feet away from him.
His forehead creases for a second and he pulls them back into his lap and then switches feet again.
“Then I told you that I wanted proof and so first I took your shoes off. Then I slowly peeled your pants down your legs and you stepped out of them. You stood there in your lace underwear looking like every man’s wet dream come to life and I couldn’t resist. I pushed my hand past the waistband of your underwear, over your mound and between the swollen lips of your pussy. You were soaked and it was such a fucking turn-on that I’m surprised I didn’t come in my pants right then and there. I finger-fucked you until you came on my hand. I haven’t been able to get the expression on your face out of my head since it happened. So much so that I’ve jacked off to that image in my mind almost every day.”
He shifts in his seat and… is that? It is.
He’s hard as a rock underneath my feet and I know he knows that I know.
Way to make it sound like a Friends episode, Whit.
His gaze locks with mine and he stops massaging my feet for a second. We sit there like two statues for a moment and I can’t resist. I gently push my foot down to get a better feel for what lies beneath the denim. His long, hard erection under my foot leaves me wanting more. I shift my foot up and down the length of him and his eyes drift closed while he sucks in a breath.
He opens his eyes and pins me with a stare, his eyes full of lust and promises. Promises I really want him to follow through on.
“Can I get you something to drink?”
The voice beside me startles me and I just about jump from my seat. I move to pull my legs away from Cole’s lap, but he grabs a hold of my ankle and stops me.
“Do you want anything?” Cole asks, probably because I’m still sitting here like a mute. He seems like he’s trying to hold back a laugh, but nothing about this situation is funny.
I realize that his waist is under the table so the bartender can’t see, but still. I’m not Cole’s girlfriend, I’m not his anything and the idea of someone else knowing what’s going on is mortifying.
“I’m probably not staying, so I’m good, thanks.”
She glances between the two o
f us several times before she gives us each a small smile and backs away. She’s not exactly bitchy to me, but she’s not all that friendly either.
“I should probably go.” I pull my feet away from Cole and this time he lets me.
“No, wait.” He places his hand over the top of where mine rests on the table. “Why are you rushing off?” For some reason, he seems genuinely perplexed by this, though I can’t imagine why.
“This”—I motion with my free hand between the two of us—“cannot happen. What just happened was out of hand.”
He tilts his head to the side and grins. “Don’t you mean, out of foot?”
I roll my eyes and scoot to the edge of the booth. “I’m serious. I shouldn’t have done that.”
Cole shrugs. “No complaints here.”
“And that kiss the other day. That can’t happen again either. Anything between us isn’t going to go anywhere, so there’s—”
“And why is that again?”
I can’t say what I’m thinking, which is that I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get past the underlying resentment I feel for the man who’s been pivotal in my life veering off course. Though that resentment seems to be taking a back seat lately.
“Because you’re you. And I’m me.” Cole is a ladies’ man and I’ve been disappointed enough by the men in my life to know to stay well clear of a guy like him.
He removes his hand from over the top of mine as if my skin is on fire. “Right. Whatever the hell that means.”
“Can we just concentrate on what we have to do for Tahlia and Chase and forget all that ever happened?”
“Do you want to forget what happened that night with us, too?”
“First I need to know what happened so that I can try to forget. And you’re not being very helpful in that regard.”
“We have a deal.”
“That’s right we do. Part of that deal was that we’d keep our hands off each other and—”
“True, but we never said anything about feet.”
