Part 9 (1/2)
Brandon stood there in shock as the hot liquid streamed down his face.
I motioned for him to follow me into the dressing room and slammed the door behind us.
My clothes were off in record time, even for me. I thrust them in his face, barely remembering not to throw them at him, ”Here. They might be a little bit tight, but at least they're not covered in f.u.c.king coffee. I can't believe that p.r.i.c.k!”
He stood there staring at me with his eyes and mouth wide open for a moment before he seemed to realize he was making it weird.
”Thanks,” he muttered as he took the swim trunks and tee s.h.i.+rt from my hand.
I had to give him credit; he only glanced down at my junk once.
I nodded at him and turned to the chair that had my outfit for the shoot draped over it. ”Sometimes I hate this job,” I confided, ”I think costume designers are just jealous b.a.s.t.a.r.ds who like to torture those of us who have to wear the stuff they come up with.”
I stuffed my legs into the black leather pants and began the slow process of pulling them up.
My c.o.c.k was going to look like a d.a.m.n nightstick in the f.u.c.king things.
Brandon turned around in a show of modesty that I wasn't accustomed to. He stripped off the black slacks and black b.u.t.ton up he'd been wearing and quickly stepped into the board shorts I had given him. It had been a long time since someone had made me feel like we were in a junior high locker room and I couldn't help but laugh.
”What?” he spun around and flushed a brilliant red.
”Nothing,” I tried to control the chuckles that kept jumping out of me, ”I'm just not used to modesty is all. In this industry, everyone just walks around with their c.o.c.ks swinging freely in your face. It was refres.h.i.+ng, I suppose.”
”Oh,” he smiled sheepishly as I finally pulled the leather over my hips and tucked my package inside, ”I don't get naked in front of many people, let alone dudes. Not to mention you're the biggest p.o.r.n star in the world. It's... intimidating.”
”First rule of p.o.r.n Club, Brandon:” I chuckled at my own joke, ”You've got the biggest c.o.c.k in the room. Even if you have a pencil d.i.c.k, you act like it's something G.o.dzilla would be proud to call his own.”
”What?” confusion and shock washed over his face, ”p.o.r.n club? What are you talking about?”
”If you're gonna make it in this industry, that's the mentality you have to have. I a.s.sume that's why you wanted to be on set today, right? A foot in the door?”
”No!” I was growing accustomed to the nice shade of maroon his face could turn in an instant, ”I wanted to be here because you're shooting with Chardonnay Hilton! I own every film she's ever done and it's a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for me to see her perform live!”
Well that's a first...
I was still staring at him in surprise when a bang like a gunshot sounded at the door, ”Your two minutes are up! Get your a.s.s out here and do your f.u.c.king job!”
Brandon raised an eyebrow, ”Are all p.o.r.n directors like that a.s.shole?”
I threw an arm over his shoulder and led him to the door, ”Not all of them. He's an exceptionally irritating case of a.s.shole, even for this industry.”
Another series of loud bangs filled the room, spiking my blood pressure and causing us both to jump.
I ripped the door open with such force that Ken stumbled backwards several steps in surprise.
I held up my left hand to Brandon, ”Help me get into this stupid thing?”
Dangling from my fingertips was a leather shoulder harness. Two-inch strips of black leather, studded with metal rivets formed the straps that would go over my shoulders. They were attached in a figure-eight formation by a stainless steel D-ring that would sit right between my shoulder blades. The contraption would force my shoulders back, highlighting my pecs for the camera, and the leather would be pulled tight enough to dig into my shoulders a little bit and make my already large biceps look absolutely ma.s.sive.
Shoulder gear had always been a plus in my book. Leather was one of the few things from work that I was willing to take into the privacy of my own bedroom. I was just glad that I didn't get paid to wear the pants for very long. They were already starting to chafe.
Brandon made a show of helping me into the harness that I very clearly could have gotten into myself, and followed a few steps behind me as I made my way to the set.
A ma.s.sive four-poster bed loomed in the center of the room. The frame had been painted a matte black as well as the backdrop and floor. A shockingly vibrant splash of red silk covered the mattress and box spring. Sprawled in the center of the sea of strawberry-colored bedding was a redhead with a delicate frame, loose flowing hair, and milky-white skin for days. Her patent leather stilettos were the same color as the sheets and so was her corset.
Even her lips popped with the color.
All I could think about was how much of a b.i.t.c.h it would be to wash that lipstick off my junk after the shoot was finished.
”She's even more perfect in person,” Brandon whispered from my side.
”Just stay quiet and keep out of everyone's way,” I advised, ”a.s.sistant or no, you get in the way, they will make you leave. If you have to, find a dark corner and rub one out. You might have to fight a camera guy for it though. You've been warned.”
We parted ways at the toy rack.
After a cursory glance, I could tell we'd probably only end up using three or four of the two-dozen props they had brought in. My bets were on the d.i.l.d.o, the b.u.t.t plug, the riding crop, and, G.o.d willing, the ball gag.
Chardonnay and I exchanged brief introductions. It was just enough for me to decide that she was a frosty b.i.t.c.h both on and off the set. I wasn't sure who I was less excited about working with for the next three hours, her or the psychotic director.
”Now that our leading man has overcome his drinking problem, let's get this show on the road!”
I nearly ripped the megaphone out of Ken's hand and stuffed it down his throat.
The crew sprang into action as lights were repositioned and run through their different settings. Filters were changed out, seemingly at Ken's whim, brightness was adjusted, some lights were even swapped out entirely only to be changed back to where they'd been when they started.
For someone who was so p.i.s.sed off that I wasn't on set on time, there sure seemed to be a lot of s.h.i.+t left to do before we could start shooting.
My costar huffed out a long, bored breath beside me.
”Has he been like this all morning?”
”Yep,” she confirmed, ”at least he's not throwing things anymore. He really doesn't like you or your brothers very much.”
I shrugged my shoulders nonchalantly, causing the leather to strain against my bulk, ”There are a lot of people who don't like my family. The Westboro Baptists picketed our house once. Now that's a special brand of stupid right there.”
She laughed quietly, showing the first sign that she wasn't an absolute ice queen, ”I worked with Parker once. He told me the story. Did they really stand out there for two days with signs and yell at you guys every time you came out of the house?”
”Yup. Poor Preston was only about six at the time. He didn't understand what the h.e.l.l was going on. He had snuck out to play and they yelled and screamed at him until he ran back into the house in tears. My mom had to lock me in the bathroom to keep me from going out there and doing something stupid. My dad was off on some shoot, of course, so I felt like it was my job, as the man of the house, to make them leave.”
”Did Parker really shoot off a shotgun to get them to leave?”
It was my turn to laugh.
”No,” I smiled, ”I'm surprised he told you that version instead of the one where he lobbed a beehive into the middle of them. That's always been his favorite. Unfortunately, the real story is a bit mundane. We just stayed inside for so long that they got bored and went away. If you go to their website, I think there's still a page where they brag about the two-day stand they took against moral corruption outside the Ruff House. Those people are whack jobs.”
”If you two are done,” the megaphone screeched, ”you have paychecks to earn.”
”I'm gonna kill him before this is through,” I growled to her through gritted teeth.
”Not if I beat you to it,” she chirped. The million-dollar smile on her face could've fooled even me.