Write Your Own Script

by A. L. Brooks

  So she clamped her mouth shut, zipped up her jacket, and walked over to Gizmo. He got to his feet, tongue lolling, and she ruffled his ears before picking up his lead. When they reached the side track she could see Tamsyn in the distance, a bright-coloured speck against the dark green of the paddock.

  “This chicken is amazing,” Maggie said, reaching for another piece, and Tamsyn glowed at the praise. She was a nervous chef as she rarely cooked for others. If she entertained at home, which wasn’t that often, it was usually for a houseful of people so she’d have a catering company do all the hard work. She did, however, love to cook, and often experimented with dishes for herself. Over the years she’d built up a small but trusted repertoire of favourites, and she was trying one of them out tonight on Maggie. It was clearly going well, and that gave her a buzz that made her smile widely.

  “I’m very glad to hear that. It’s one of my favourites.”

  Maggie made delightful humming noises as she ate, and Tamsyn sniggered.

  “A satisfied customer, this is good.”

  After swallowing and taking a drink of her champagne, Maggie grinned. “Completely,” she replied, “and in more ways than one after this afternoon’s little shenanigans.”

  Tamsyn blushed. “Ah, yes. That was rather spectacular, wasn’t it?”

  “I’ll say.” Maggie blew her a kiss.

  She was positively sparkling tonight, and as much as Tamsyn would have liked to take all the credit, something told her there was more to it than a great orgasm and melt-in-your-mouth lemon chicken.

  “You’re buzzing tonight. Care to share?”

  Maggie blushed. “I’m feeling good. I… Well, what we did in the woods obviously helped.” She smirked. “But I also had a really good writing session after I got home.” She looked away for a moment. “This new book is really flowing, and I almost can’t write it quick enough.” She turned her head back to meet Tamsyn’s gaze. “It’s been a very long time since that happened and it feels wonderful.”

  “I bet it does! Good for you.” She didn’t know whether to ask about the story, given that she’d inadvertently insulted Maggie’s writing before. The last thing she wanted to do was put her foot in it again, so she decided to stay silent on the book’s content, at least. “How long can you write for in one session?”

  “Depends,” Maggie said, taking another sip of her champagne. “If I’m tired it doesn’t work, no matter what I do. But if not, then I can probably keep going for two or three hours in one sitting, and on a really good day, do two of those, one in the morning and one in the afternoon or evening.”

  “And what sort of word count would that generate?”

  Maggie paused to eat another mouthful of chicken, then said, “Again, totally depends on what sort of scene or chapter I’m writing. But I guess anywhere between seven and ten thousand words.”

  Tamsyn nearly choked on her champagne. “Bloody hell! But that means, on a good week, you could write probably a whole book, surely?”

  Maggie smiled and shook her head. “Yeah, but I can’t sustain days like that, day after day, and if the chapters I’m writing are heavy on historical detail there’s a lot of stopping to check things, et cetera. But, having said that, most of my books have been written in four to six weeks. And that is good going. I know that much from talking to other authors.”

  “Well, I’m impressed, I can tell you that. I couldn’t write a letter, never mind a book.”

  There was mirth in Maggie’s tone as she asked, “No plans to write your memoirs then? All the sordid details of your career laid bare?”

  Laughing, Tamsyn playfully slapped Maggie’s forearm. “Given how many details I’d have to leave out, it would be a pretty thin book.” She swallowed. That wasn’t a revelation she’d planned on ejecting into the evening.

  Maggie’s eyes were wide. “Have you…” she began, then shut her mouth.

  Wondering if she’d regret it, Tamsyn said, “No, it’s okay. Ask.”

  “Well,” Maggie continued, her hand twirling her champagne glass, “I suppose I was wondering how long it’s been since you came out. Well, to yourself, that is. I mean, as someone who’s followed your career closely, I’ve never picked up on a single rumour about you being anything other than straight. Is this a…recent thing?”

  Okay, so we’re going to go there. Well, she had kind of opened the door, so she couldn’t blame Maggie for asking.

  “If I told you the first time I slept with a woman was when I was nineteen, would you be shocked?”

  Maggie’s eyes went wide but then she chuckled. “Wow, how has this not made it into the public domain?”

  Tamsyn sighed. Despite being sure that what she’d done was absolutely right for her career, she knew what she’d say next wouldn’t paint her in the most LGBT-positive light.

  “I made an arrangement with the woman involved that we would keep each other’s secret. She was married, and her husband had no idea that she regularly had affairs with other men and also with women. I felt a bit of an idiot for not realising I was just one more notch on her bedpost, so to speak, and it had me running scared of the whole ‘let’s be a lesbian’ thing.” Of course, having a best friend who then came out as lesbian and lost her acting career over it hadn’t helped. “Especially as shortly afterwards I got my first big break, with the lead in Danger Zone. I…I basically threw myself into my work, desperate to do whatever it took to become the next big star. And that meant keeping my sexuality hidden from the world.” She drank down the last of her champagne. “Silly me thought I could hide it from myself too. That if I didn’t do anything about it, it would gradually just go away.”

  “But it didn’t.” Maggie’s tone was soft and understanding and Tamsyn met her gaze. “It’s part of who you are, isn’t it? Not something you can ignore at all.”

  Tamsyn shook her head. “No, I couldn’t. So, then I had a new dilemma. Here I was, ten, maybe twelve years later, a big name, face everywhere, offers coming out of my backside, and desperately unhappy. I was dating male actors but never quite managing to, er, consummate things. I freely admit, I mainly did it for the publicity. Anyway, I’d got the house in LA by then, was going to all the right parties, and I soon realised, if you were smart enough, and listened carefully, you could pick up hints that you weren’t the only woman with the same plight.”

  Maggie’s eyebrows shot up and Tamsyn couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m not going to give you any other names. It took a while, but soon I was able to set up the occasional evening to, um, let off some steam, shall we say.” She glanced away from Maggie’s shocked face. “I’m not exactly proud of it, you know. But I couldn’t see any other way around the problem. Coming out would have ruined me. I believe it still would.”

  Tamsyn shrugged and waited for Maggie’s response, her insides churning a little the longer the silence held.

  After a minute or so, Maggie sat back in her chair, draining the last of her champagne. “I think,” she said, putting down her glass and getting up from the table, “we need some more of this.”

  Tamsyn barked out a laugh. It was the last thing she’d expected Maggie to say—she’d thought she’d be judged, or vilified for not providing an outstanding role model for the LGBT community.

  “Yes, I think we do,” she agreed, her voice husky with emotion. She’d taken a bit of a gamble on spilling out her story to Maggie. Only three other people in the world knew it—Lesley, obviously, but also Carmen and Tony, and the latter two only in case it ever did hit the front pages, so they could be prepared with a career-rescuing plan. But Maggie’s calm reaction, plus the fact that, deep down, Tamsyn knew she could trust her, had made the confession easier on her nerves than she would have imagined.

  They took their full glasses of champagne into the living room, threw another log on the fire and sat close together on the sofa, smiling as Gizmo walked up to them and
promptly flopped down between their feet to sleep.

  Maggie’s hand rubbed soothing lines on Tamsyn’s thigh, back and forth but never venturing too far up towards other, more sensitive areas.

  “Thank you for telling me,” she said quietly, after a few minutes. “Obviously, speaking personally, it’s nice to know my teenage crush wasn’t entirely off the mark.”

  Tamsyn snorted, champagne dribbling down her chin. As she wiped at it with the back of her hand, she said, “Teenage? Just how old are you?”

  Maggie grinned. “I’m forty-nine, so yeah, the eighteen-year-old Maggie thought the twenty-one-year-old Tamsyn Harris was red hot. Especially in Days Like These. Of course, the topless scene helped enormously.”

  Tamsyn dug her in the ribs and Maggie yelped even as she laughed and pulled away.

  “Hey, come on!” Maggie protested, “I’m just telling it like it was. I told you before, I’ve been a fan of yours for years. Learning now that my celebrity crush might have had an actual chance of being fulfilled is thrilling.” She laughed again. “I mean, obviously not really, because when would my eighteen-year-old self have ever had the chance to meet you? But you know what I mean.”

  Tamsyn dipped her head in acknowledgement, then smirked. “Hey, you should try being me, having celebrity crushes on women you then do go and meet or work with.” She shook her head. “Pure bloody torture, let me tell you.”

  Maggie laughed, her shoulders shaking. “Oh, God, I can imagine! Poor you,” she said, patting Tamsyn’s cheek.

  “Patronising little shit,” Tamsyn muttered and smiled when it was Maggie’s turn to dig her in the ribs.

  Maggie’s expression turned serious. “I can’t lie to you, though, it is…disappointing that you haven’t come out publicly.” Tamsyn bristled but held her tongue when Maggie raised her hands. “I respect your decision, for you. I do. But…yeah, given how high-profile you are, I do think it’s a shame that the business being what it was and still is, you feel you are not in a position where making such a statement, which could help so many young people, can be done without harming your career.” She stroked Tamsyn’s hand, where it had come to lay on Maggie’s warm thigh. “And I feel really sorry for you, because the chance to be in a fulfilling relationship hasn’t been possible. Assuming, of course,” she said, her eyes widening again, “that that’s something you’d ever want anyway. Maybe you wouldn’t; not everyone does.”

  “Do you?” The question escaped Tamsyn’s lips before she could stop it.

  Maggie sighed, then shrugged. “I haven’t been that good at it so far. My last serious relationship just kind of petered out when I got so successful with the writing. We never saw each other—I was way too busy with writing and researching and doing interviews. But…” She looked away. “Yeah, deep down, I do want that. One day. If I can ever get the balance right in my life again.”

  “Is that what this trip is about?”

  Maggie nodded, finally looking at Tamsyn. Her serious expression had softened, and Maggie managed a small smile. “Yes. And it’s working, I think. It’s certainly given me thinking time, and I really needed that. Some decisions are starting to form, and I’m sure by the end of my stay I’ll have a much better idea of what I want to do next.”

  Other than returning to the set of Great Plains, Tamsyn had no idea what she would do next with her life. Much the same as she’d done for the last ten years, she imagined: fight for roles, fight to keep working, have the occasional one-night or few-night fling with another woman seeking total discretion from her temporary partner. The thought of it suddenly depressed her. She needed a distraction from such thoughts. Throwing back the last of her drink, she placed the glass on the coffee table with some force.

  “Well,” Tamsyn said, gazing at Maggie before running a finger gently down the line of her jaw. “I know what I want to do next.” She leaned in and brushed Maggie’s lips with her own. “And it involves you and me naked in my bed.” She kept her voice low, knowing how much that drop in tone tended to unravel Maggie.

  The reaction played out on Maggie’s features, sending a throb to Tamsyn’s clit. Maggie’s eyes widened, then darkened as her cheeks flushed a little. She stood, reaching for Tamsyn’s hand.

  Tamsyn grinned and allowed herself to be pulled upright. “I’m so glad you agree,” she whispered, and Maggie’s soft laughter led them to the bedroom.

  Chapter 13

  “So, I wanted to ask you something.” Maggie trailed a finger across Tamsyn’s bare stomach and smiled as the muscles contracted beneath the skin. The tattoo—which, she’d discovered a couple of days ago, was the Chinese symbol for strength—rippled along with the muscles, an intriguing effect.

  “Ask away,” Tamsyn murmured, mellow in the aftermath of her orgasm. She was flat on her back, legs and arms akimbo, and looked utterly glorious. “I have no more secrets to tell you, though.”

  Maggie chuckled. “Nope, not that sort of question.” She let her fingertips wander over Tamsyn’s ribs. “God, you are so gorgeous.”

  Tamsyn smiled, and opened one eye. “That’s not a question.”

  “Ha ha, smart ass.” Maggie stilled her hand. “Totally okay for you to say no, but I was going to have a day out tomorrow. I need to get groceries, but I thought I’d make a full day of it and take Gizmo to the coast. He loves beaches but we rarely get to go. Would you like to come with us?”

  Tamsyn’s eyes were like saucers. “Out? Like, in public?”

  Maggie rubbed her chin. “Well, that’s the thing. I don’t think it would be that public. I mean the supermarket, yes, but you could always stay in the car for that bit. But the beach will be dead quiet at this time of year, and if you, I don’t know, wore sunglasses and a hat, maybe no make-up—”

  “No make-up?” Tamsyn squawked, and Maggie rolled her eyes.

  “Think about it. You’d be totally anonymous. You’d get some fresh sea air. You could play fetch with Gizmo.”

  Now it was Tamsyn rolling her eyes. “I may pet him on the head occasionally, but I think playing fetch might be a step too far in our relationship.”

  “Aw, come on, you love him. You know you do,” Maggie cajoled, knowing that Tamsyn did have a very soft spot for her dog, even if she’d never admit it. Many times during the last week Maggie had caught the two of them having a woman-to-dog moment that was full of affection on both sides.

  “Maybe,” Tamsyn admitted. She folded her arms across her chest. “And what do you get out of this?”

  Maggie shrugged and tried to act as nonchalant as she could. “Just a fun day out with another adult to talk to. God knows Gizmo tries but our conversations do tend to be a bit one-sided.”

  Tamsyn snorted and pulled Maggie on top of her. “You’re a funny woman, you know that?” She kissed Maggie, her lips soft and plump, her tongue teasing. “Let me think about it, okay? Can I tell you in the morning?”

  “Sure.” Maggie kissed her. “I need to leave by ten, though, so if you want to join us, be at the cottage before then.”

  Tamsyn saluted. “Ma’am, yes ma’am.”

  “Whatever,” Maggie muttered, and hauled herself out of Tamsyn’s arms. Of course, she wanted to stay, but that wasn’t part of their arrangement, and Gizmo more than likely needed a toilet stop anyway, so now was as good a time as any to say goodbye for the night.

  Tamsyn chuckled, then propped herself on one arm and watched as Maggie got dressed.

  “Maybe see you tomorrow,” Maggie said quietly, once she was at the bedroom door.

  “Maybe,” Tamsyn replied, her smile tentative, her eyes impossible to read.

  Tamsyn paused at the end of the driveway. This is your last chance to back out of this crazy idea. She looked at Maggie’s cottage, at the glow of the light coming from the living room, and saw Maggie pass in front of the window, a notebook in her hand. That simple sight was all it took to propel he
r forwards once more. It was as if Maggie was some kind of magnet, pulling Tamsyn in, and that was why she’d woken up after a restless night with thoughts of spending just one more day together. One more day and then she’d have to seriously think about getting ready to go back to the set of Great Plains. And away from the temptation that was Maggie and yes, even little Gizmo, who was his own special attraction. It was getting harder each day not to dream of something more. Something that might last. They kept telling each other it was just a holiday fling, but Tamsyn’s words sounded hollow to her own ears—and Maggie’s did too. Which made it particularly stupid that she was now walking up the path to the front door, smiling as Gizmo announced her approach from inside the cottage.

  She literally couldn’t help herself, though, and when Maggie opened the door, that incredible smile splitting her face, her blonde hair tossing in the breeze, Tamsyn’s sensible side took a hike and the inner Tamsyn, the one that no one ever got to see, leaped to the fore.

  “Good morning,” Maggie said, as Gizmo jumped between them.

  Maggie’s smile became a knowing smirk, and Tamsyn chuckled before leaning in and kissing her, lingering in the warmth of it as their tongues gently, sensuously stroked one another’s, then moaning softly as Maggie’s hands cupped her face, pulling her in closer.

  “Good morning to you too,” Tamsyn murmured as she pulled back. “And to you, young man.” She gazed down at Gizmo, laughing as he spun in circles at their feet. “Don’t you dare throw up on my boots after that,” she said, wagging a finger at him.

  Maggie laughed and stepped back into the cottage. “No worries on that score. He’s got a cast-iron constitution.”

  “I don’t doubt it.” Tamsyn followed her into the warmth of the living room. “Now, other than an instruction to be here by ten,” she paused to glance at her watch and then fist-pumped dramatically, which elicited a snort from Maggie, “which I have managed with six minutes to spare, I might add, you didn’t ask me to bring or prepare anything for the day.”