Some days, Sasha enjoyed a relaxing drink at the end of shooting. Other days, she needed one. There was a big fucking difference. Today, for instance, she needed two, one right after the other. According to her drinking schedule, reality was a long way off.
She didn’t even taste the first gin and tonic; drained it as if she were a desert wanderer and it was a glass of ice water. The second drink was far more pleasurable. G and Ts were her favourite concoction, served in a chilled glass, imbibed while sitting on the outdoor balcony of the hipster restaurant ‘Bougainvillaea By The Shore’. It was a place habited by people who were as beautiful as the surroundings. A place where Avalon Granger went weekly to gather information for her column, paying off the maître d’ for insider information, such as who received a blow job beneath the most private table in the restaurant and what that particular decadence had cost him.
Honestly, Sasha couldn’t afford the exorbitant prices of the elegant restaurant, but it was where she most wanted to be. There was nobody to stop her from blowing her last little bit of cash on a night of drinking. She stared out at the beach, watching the lights twinkling, the sand and surf glistening brilliantly beneath the crescent moon. And all the pretty scenery made her think of was money.
That’s because she had run out of it. To her dismay, her last investor had dropped out, leaving a gaping hole in her budget, and she’d found nobody to take his financial place. Low-budget movies were a specialty of LA’s youngsters, people like Sasha who hoped to market their films at festivals, to win a contract, or at least gain notice. But Sasha didn’t even have enough cash any more for low-budget. Hers was now officially classified as a ‘no budget’, and as she drank her second G and T, she wondered what the fuck she was going to do.
She wouldn’t go back to stripping.
Yes, she would.
No, she wouldn’t. Not even for this. Sure, the money was good. Amazing, sometimes. At the place where she’d worked in the past, a high-end strip bar up on Sunset, there were men who thought nothing of slipping twenty dollars at a time beneath her glittery G-string. She’d receive the occasional 50 or 100 when a celebrity was in the crowd and his posse insisted on showing off by flashing the green.
Ladies went to strip bars now, too, as if to show how cool they were. Blasé about the fact that another woman was standing inches from them, displaying her body. The women were generally even better tippers than the men, out to prove something, and there was something sexy to Sasha about the feel of a lady’s fingertips against her thigh as she slid the money down.
A waitress interrupted her thoughts by asking if she was ready for another, and Sasha nodded.
Once, when doing a private bachelor party, she’d brought home three grand in less than four hours. The thought of making money like that gave her a momentary pause. How many nights would she have to work to get her film back on track?
She shoved the idea out of her head. What if Mica found out, or her cast and crew or, God forbid, Jessica.
A third drink. That’s what she needed. And then a phone call to Jessica, because what she’d really need after her third strong gin wasn’t money at all.
It was a ride.
* * *
During dinner, which was a picnic meal out on his fire escape, Kelly shared his big news. ‘I landed the part, baby,’ he said. ‘My agent called this afternoon. It’s mine.’ He was beaming. ‘I mean, it’s really fucking mine. All mine.’
Jessica leaned over to kiss him. They were seated on a soft, quilted blanket on the metal grid floor, spread out beneath the stars. From where they sat, they could see the Santa Monica pier, the lit-up Ferris wheel going round and round. Squeals of laughter from the kids on the rides created a happy noise, far enough away to set a background mood.
‘What’s the role like?’ Jessica asked, leaning back on the quilt. With one hand, she lazily traced her fingers along the back of his tanned arm.
‘A dangerous guy. Someone who isn’t at all what he seems on the surface. Like I told you before, it’s not the biggest role in the film. But it’s meaty. I’ll definitely get noticed.’ He actually lowered his voice then, even though nobody was anywhere near by them. ‘The director’s Deleen DeMarco.’
‘You’re on the set with her?’
Kelly nodded, and Jessica could see in his eyes how pleased and excited he was. There would be no more nights spent at acting classes or voice classes or fencing classes or tap-dancing classes. Honing his skills, any skills, in hopes that someday they would come in handy. Kelly was going to make it.
‘When does the shooting start?’
‘It’s been shooting. I’m the last principal to be cast. They actually hired someone else, one of the other guys with me at the audition, but after a few takes, the director decided she didn’t like the chemistry between him and the lead. Bad luck for him, poor bastard, but good fucking luck for me.’
‘Where will it be filmed?’
‘Here.’ His smile broadened. ‘It’s futuristic, but mostly done in sets on the lot. My scenes start right after Christmas, but I don’t have to go to some godforsaken desert in the outback or some rain forest in Ecuador. I can stay right here. With you.’
As he said the words, Kelly reached into the picnic basket and pulled out a long, thin package. Jessica flushed as he handed over the box. Her guilt at what she’d done at the party with Mozart was compounded by the fact that she hadn’t told Kelly about the flowers she was still receiving.
‘Open it, Jessie.’
At Kelly’s insistence, Jessica undid the box, revealing the thin, red leather collar coiled inside. The gift instantly made her smile. Kelly hadn’t bought her an elaborate piece of jewellery, something that she wouldn’t be ready to accept. No, he was giving her a bit of a fantasy, and now she handed it back over to him and lifted up her hair.
Without a word, Kelly fastened the collar around her neck, and the feel of the cool leather against her skin made Jessica’s breath catch. Next, he pulled a matching leash out of his pocket. It was tightly wound, and Jessica watched, eyes wide, as he slowly began to unroll the leather. Oh, God, he was going to attach it to the leash. She could easily visualise him making her bow down, making her beg. Sometimes begging was a very good thing. Begging him to fuck her, to put his cock inside her, to let her come.
But he didn’t do any of the actions she imagined. He simply slid the leash back and forth between his fingers, stroking it, playing with it. Was he going to use it on her like a belt? Slide her white jeans and lemon yellow thong down past the curve of her ass and let her feel the cool leather heat up against her naked skin? Or did he have other plans? She wasn’t sure where Kelly was going with the toy, but she knew that she was going to like it. Knew because of the sensations throbbing inside her.
Not just inside her, but inside her pocket. Her cellphone, switched to vibrate, was ringing. Damn, who would call her now? Right when she and Kelly were about to embark on something destined to be erotically memorable?
‘Let it ring,’ Kelly said urgently, his fingers stroking the underside of her chin. The look in his eyes was filled with a promise that Jessica hated to put on hold. Imminent pleasure was what she read in his expression. Yes, that pleasure would undoubtedly be tinged with pain, but that was the way she liked it. She’d heard so many songs that captured her desires, lyrics spilled through her head as she fingered the collar around her neck.
Take your baby by the ears, play upon her darkest fears.
But what if it was an emergency? Pulling the miniature, high-tech phone from her inside pocket, she answered tersely.
‘Jessie, it’s me.’ The voice was slurred, but Jessica easily recognised her roommate’s despondent drawl, and she understood instantly that Sasha was drunk.
‘I need –’ Sasha started.
‘A ride,’ Jessica finished for her, shaking her head exasperatedly as she said it. They’d played out this little act before. Too many times, in Jessica’s opinion. The scene was starting to get old.
‘Seventy-six thousand dollars,’ Sasha finished. And then she started to cry.
* * *
After dropping Sasha back at home, tucking her into her tiny bed with a full bag of ice for her head and, at her desperate request, a half-empty fifth of vodka for her soul, Jessica dragged Kelly to the concert.
‘I had other ideas,’ he told her, stroking his fingers along the collar still attached to her slender throat. She’d forgotten about it during their rescue of Sasha, and the feel of his fingers on either side of the thin strip of leather had her excited in an instant. Her pussy responded to his action as if he had touched her clit with his thumb, brushed against it forcefully, instead of simply stroking the collar around her throat. ‘If you hadn’t understood that before,’ he added gruffly, ‘the collar was only the start.’ Now, he slid one finger beneath the leather band and tugged gently, then a little less gently, letting her feel the pull of it against her neck.
‘This is work.’
‘No.’ He shook his head, and his eyes gleamed at her with subtle humour. ‘It won’t be work at all. It will be fun. Dirty, filthy fun. Exactly your type of fun, Jess. Blow off the concert.’
She could hear the rest of the statement in her head. ‘Blow off the concert and blow me instead. I will treat you right, baby. Spank that pretty ass. Colour it up a nice, blushing pink. I’ll stand you before the mirror and make you watch over your shoulder as I thrash you. Maybe I’ll get my wooden paddle. The special one we reserve for the most serious evenings. Really tan your hide while you stare at your punished reflection. You like that, don’t you, Jessie? You like to watch.’ Yes, she did. She liked all of the different ways they played together. Now, Kelly urged her on. ‘I’ll make you cream, baby,’ he said. ‘Make you come like never before.’
She insisted that they do what she wanted, heading towards the venue. The 11.30 show was the one to be at. With her press pass in hand, she pulled Kelly after her into the starkly decorated main room of Sammy’s Mango Hut. It was like all other Hollywood clubs of its type. If you turned on the lights, it would lose all of its magic. But in the hazy glow, a pulse could be felt. The heartbeat of both good music and perhaps impending stardom. That’s what everyone hoped for, wasn’t it?
Kelly sulked only until Jessica pulled him after her on to the dance floor. She wanted Todd to see that she was there in support of him, and she wanted Kelly to move with her, to understand that if he was paying attention, he would realise that she hadn’t actually told him ‘no’. She’d only told him ‘later’. There was a big difference. If he kept himself under control, then what they might do after the show could be even more spectacular.
They rocked as part of a sea of dancers, long-time fans of Third Leg who seemed to know every lyric, every beat. Jessica felt as if she were part of a wave of heat, and she closed her eyes as Kelly held her close, as he once again slid one finger, then two, beneath the leather collar and tugged.
* * *
Writer’s block was the worst illness that Alex had ever succumbed to. Staring fixedly at his computer screen, he tried to get the words to flow by sheer force. Tried and failed. This was the final draft, the polishing process, yet nothing seemed to make him want to stay put and get the job done.
Re-read the fucking thing from the start. That’s what he would do. Force himself back into the movement of the screenplay by utter determination. Without feeling immodest, he knew the writing was fantastic. His agent had told him that, and Sam never had a good word to say about anything. He was the most difficult-to-please man in the world, which also made him the most craved agent in the city.
Rubbing one hand along the scruff of his evening shadow, Alex finally cancelled the idea of spending the night stuck at the terminal. Terminally stuck. As he reached for his leather jacket, he decided that he’d go to the concert after all. Run into Jessica, maybe. If she’d gone, as he’d requested, then it might be a place for him to finally talk to her. And he had to talk to her. Eventually.
What Alex had meant to do was ask Jessica to go to the concert with him, but when handing over the assignment, he’d found himself floundering in Avalon’s presence. And in the presence of his own impending hard-on, he had given Jessica a press pass and told her to turn in a review as soon as she could.
‘Be creative,’ he’d said. ‘We like to play things a little differently.’
But he had more reason to go to the concert than to watch her scribble notes in a pad. He was hoping that if he saw her out of the office, he’d be able to speak to her unhindered. Not worrying about what Avalon would say or how she’d mess with him later. Not biting his tongue because Josh or Pete was sitting there, listening.
Deep down, Alex was still disturbed by the Halloween party. Disturbed by what he’d seen but not stopped. Dashiell, secretly back from Europe, had already succeeded in making the moves on Jessica. What could Alex do about that? Nothing. Warning the kid off didn’t make any sense. Why? So that he could tear off a piece for himself? That’s what Dash would think – and that would be a bad place to enter. A fight for a woman would damage the balance of power in the paper’s staffroom.
No, Alex wouldn’t get involved. That was the best position to take. A weak position, though. That was his problem. He couldn’t finish his screenplay for the same reason that he couldn’t approach Jessica.
He simply didn’t have the balls, did he?
* * *
Marina went to the club where she’d spotted Dashiell before. This evening, she was decked out in her favourite ‘fuck me’ outfit: a micro mini pink suede skirt, magenta high-heeled sandals and a black and pink striped top that fitted her perfectly. She was proud of her body and liked to show it off, and to Marina that meant as little clothes and as much skin as possible. Although she won the approving glances of the bartender, who sent over a free drink, she didn’t see Dashiell anywhere.
What to do? She had to manoeuvre herself back into Alex’s stratosphere somehow. It wasn’t that she wanted to get him back. No, that would be too normal. In truth, she wanted to get back at him. There was a big and twisted difference. As she downed the free Flirtini, she spotted someone else she recognised from the paper. Todd X, guitar in hand, performing with his band.
Todd might work into her plans, she thought, moving so that he wouldn’t be able to miss her when she started dancing in front of the stage.
* * *
The pressure against Jessica’s throat made her pussy wet. Dangerously wet. As always, Kelly sensed her desires intimately, knew to keep running his fingertips under the leather band, to press two of his fingers against the pulse point at the hollow of her throat. The feel of his hand there brought forth a series of images. She pictured the two of them in bed together, the collar now clipped on to a silver chain running to a hook on his headboard. She’d be caught, pinned down, and he would straddle her high up on her chest, part her lips with the head of his cock, thrust in deep.
With her eyes covered behind a velvet blindfold, she’d suck on him. Darkness enveloping her senses, she would focus only on the way Kelly’s cock tasted, the heat of his body, the slight saltiness of his skin. Pleasing him, she would take her time. Use her lips to caress his rod, use her tongue to stimulate that centre of nerves right under the head.
There was something undeniably sexy to her about giving up control. And she was one of the people who thought, deep down inside, that the person submitting actually had more power than the one dominating. The sub got to choose how far to go. That was real power.
From the way Kelly played with her in public this evening, she understood the give and take, the way that he wanted her both to obey him and rebel against him. But when she opened her eyes, she saw behind him, standing against the wall, that her managing editor was at the show. And that he was watching her.
Suddenly, things changed within Jessica. She remembered the way she’d felt when she’d first seen Alex. Those haunted circles, the smudges of fatigue beneath his eyes, had called to her. The way he’d worked his way into all of her fantasies. While Kelly had fucked her at her apartment, she’d visualised Alex’s face in her mind as she’d come. At Read My Lips, she’d imagined him watching her get a spanking over Kelly’s lap. Now, as he stared at her, she had a different fantasy, and this one didn’t involve Kelly at all. She pictured Alex striding through the club, cutting in.
Nobody did that sort of thing any more, because dancing styles had changed from the time when someone could tap a man on his shoulder and whisk away his lady. Now, dancers pressed their bodies together in a tight fit, or not touching at all, not even seeming to be moving to the same song. But in her head, she still saw Alex cutting in. Kelly fading back into the throng of Third Leg’s audience.
And then what?
Her boss pulling her after him out of the club, roughly removing a collar he hadn’t chosen for her, discarding it as he hurried her to his car. Claiming her with actions rather than objects. That’s the way it would work with Alex. She understood that much from the look in his eyes. He wouldn’t need accessories.
Jessica found herself growing more aroused as she continued to add details. It was all there for her, unfolding in her head at a decadently slow pace. With a whispered excuse to Kelly, she started to make her way to the edge of the dance floor. She would talk to Alex, finally. Outside of the office, it would be easier. They’d connect without anyone else paying attention. But when she finally reached the corner of the room where she’d spotted him, Alex was gone. Oh, God, she was losing it. Had he been in the room at all, or was he a figment of her X-rated imagination? Was she really at the point where she was creating imaginary sexual playthings?
With her back pressed up against the wall, she waited out the next song, and the one after. From where she stood, she scanned the dance floor, looking for her boss. He simply wasn’t there. But Kelly was, now dancing closely with a tall girl sporting short red hair. As Jessica watched, Kelly pulled the girl in tight against him, hip to hip. His hands roamed over his partner’s waist, fingertips trailed along her sleek body. Jessica paid attention to the way he looked as he moved with this other woman, and when the girl leaned in and kissed him, she wondered why she felt no jealousy at all.
* * *
‘You OK, baby?’ Kelly asked, when the song was over and he found his way back to her side.
‘I’m fine,’ she murmured, her eyes on him. But as Jessica reached up to wipe a peony-coloured smear of the other girl’s lipstick from his face, a wave of sorrow crested through her. This was the end, or the beginning of the end. When Kelly met her gaze with his, she thought she saw understanding there.
Back on the dance floor together, they danced hard, their bodies in tune. He slid both hands into the back pockets of her white jeans and pulled her to him, so that she could feel his erection pressed against her. As always, the promise of what awaited her made her knees feel as if they could no longer keep her upright. The physical connection remained as powerful as always, even if her inner feelings had changed. She let herself semi-collapse into his embrace, and he quickly lifted her in his arms and walked her out through the throng and to the parking lot.
* * *
Avalon had eyes everywhere. That’s the way it had to be. When she wasn’t able to get to a place in person, her sources looked out for her. One of them saw Alex watching Jessica, saw Jessica with Kelly, and he knew enough to pay attention. The newspaper staff hung out at the bar often enough to have become familiar faces. Didn’t Avalon always like to know what was going on in the world of Zebra?
The bartender followed Jessica and Kelly out to the parking lot, and later he told Avalon exactly what had happened after the show. The handsome blond boy had walked the dark-haired girl to the edge of the lot, where his Harley was parked. There, Jessica had bent over the seat, staying still as Kelly unbuttoned her jeans and slid them down her thighs. Her yellow panties were next, pulled down below her knees, revealing naked skin that had a pearly glow to it beneath the moonlight.
After what appeared to be a moment’s hesitation, Kelly had thrashed her. Seriously and lovingly. Using the red leather leash, he’d striped her pale skin over and over, but after every few lashes, he’d stopped to kiss her. To lick along the stripes he left with his belt. To tongue between the lovely cheeks of her ass, making her toss her hair like a wild horse, that tremendous mane spilling free of her ponytail.
The source, a bartender named Chester, had described the scene in detail to Avalon. Each stroke. Each line. The look on Jessica’s face when she’d turned her head to the side, eyes closed as she’d taken it. And she’d taken it all. Everything the boy had in him to give. When he was finished whipping her, he’d fucked her, still pressed against his bike, his own jeans undone, cock out, driving in deep. Jessica had moaned as she’d come, loud enough to be heard over the traffic.
* * *
This was how they said goodbye. Jessica let Kelly do what he wanted to her; what he needed to. Punishing her for her indiscretions on Halloween. He might not know that’s what he was punishing her for, but she did. And she took each stroke against her skin, that fiery pain pulsing all the way to her core.
It would be their last time together. She knew it. And she thought that he knew it. When he fucked her, she slid one hand beneath her waist and strummed her fingers against her clit, coming with him at the end in a finale like none other.