He embraces me in his arms and kisses me tenderly. I feel a comforting sensation wash over me. I’m safe with him. He wants what’s best for me. He’ll always have my back. And when times get tough, he’ll be in my corner providing his support. As I savor his warm, comforting kisses, I’m quickly reminded that all those encouraging and wonderful things he said were meant for Ashley, not me. After all, Ashley was the actress. Although, I guess in these rare moments together with Jackson, I too, am an actress.

As he continues to embrace me tightly, I recognize how lucky Ashley was to be with a man like Jackson. He’s strong, yet tender; passionate and thoughtful.

I hope when this arrangement is over, I get to meet someone as wonderful as him. I hope I’m as fortunate as Ashley.

Unlike previous memories – where we’ve engaged in hot, passionate sex – this time, as we return to his bedroom loft, it’s different. As his strong, firm hands caress my body, I feel tenderness and care, not just unbridled lust.

Looking deep into my eyes, as he slowly unbuttons my shirt, Jackson says to me, “You’ve got more to offer than you realize.”

I smile in response, and press my forehead against his. “I’m so happy to be here with you, right now,” I reply. Although that line has been scripted for me, it’s the truth. I may be playing a role, but there’s honestly no other place I would rather be than here, with him.

Jackson slowly pulls my shirt over my shoulders. I unfasten my bra, exposing my breasts. He bends down and cups both my breasts in his capable hands. He gently licks and sucks on my pert nipples. I press his head against my chest as I enjoy the tingling sensation.

Jackson then unbuttons my jeans and pulls them down. I slide off my panties and fall back on the bed, naked.

He stands at the foot of the bed, looking down at me. I notice his mood change.

“I never want you to leave me,” he says, suddenly looking vulnerable. I see the honest worry in his eyes.

“I would be a fool to,” I answer back.

My words please him and he softly smiles. He then lifts up his T-shirt and takes it off, exposing his ripped chest. He unbuckles his pants and slips off his jeans and boxers.

As he stands naked at the foot of the bed, I marvel at his perfect body. Jackson is an artist, who captures the beauty in his subjects. I wonder if he has ever posed for another artist. Because he is without a doubt, an example of masculine perfection. Michelangelo couldn’t have sculpted a more impressive physique.

But what makes Jackson truly captivating, isn’t just his good looks and strong physical stature, but the honest and passionate look in his eyes. He’s a man who appreciates beauty and sees the good in other people. At least that’s the impression I have of him from our few encounters together.

I hope I get to experience something as passionate, honest, and tender with someone in my own life, and not just when I’m pretending to be her.

But enough of this introspection.

As Jackson bends down and slowly moves over me, I realize I have more important things to focus on – such as another beautiful and intense lovemaking session.

Jackson begins to kiss the inside of my thighs as his hands glide toward my breasts. As he pinches my nipples firmly, I feel his tongue caress my clit. The dual sensation sparks my body to life. It feels so good.

I wrap my legs around his head as he continues making love to my sex with his mouth. I let out an appreciative groan.

“You keep working your tongue like that,” I declare. “And I’ll definitely never leave you.”

It’s a brazen line of dialogue, one I would probably never say in real life. But, even though it has been scripted for me, it perfectly describes how I feel.

Jackson kisses my stomach and slowly moves up my chest, sucking on my nipples once again. I can feel the tip of his hard cock grace my entrance. I eagerly anticipate the moment when his impressive shaft will be inside me.

Jackson then kisses my shoulders and neck. When our eyes meet, I see the most beautiful expression on his face.

“Falling in love with you, Ashley, is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

He kisses me softly, and I wrap my arms around his neck.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I assure him in between kisses. “Now get inside me, Jackson, where you belong.” With my arms wrapped around his neck, I raise my legs and wrap them around his waist. I pull him toward me, forming a tight bond. As his cock fills me, I crane my neck and gasp. “It’s incredible how good you feel.”

With a sensuous growl, Jackson thrusts himself inside me. After several long and deep drives, I urge him onto his back.

I want to get on top. I want to mount him.

I grip the base of his cock and slowly lower myself onto him. An appreciative grin spreads across my lips as I feel his girth spread me wide. I rock my hips back and forth, grinding against his crotch. I place my hands against his firm chest for balance. Then the tip of his cock smacks against my G-spot and I howl with delight.

Once I regain control, I kiss his lips and smirk.

“You fuck me so good. I love every second of it.”

Jackson squeezes my breasts as I continue grinding on top of him. Then he grabs my ass and gives it a nice firm squeeze.

With our eyes locked, the orgasm starts to build.

“Ashley, I want you to come all over my cock,” he growls, squeezing my ass even tighter.

“That won’t be hard,” I gasp as I arch my back and feel the tingling sensation rush through my body. I rock myself back and forth at a more feverish pace, setting the rhythm. Within seconds, I’m groaning loudly. The muscles in my legs and back tense up. Then I grip onto Jackson’s chest when I’m suddenly overwhelmed by a thunderbolt of joyous bliss.

“Oh my God! Oh my God!” I gush as my body ricochets with delight. I clasp my legs tightly against Jackson’s waist, rocking back and forth. When I finally come, I shut my eyes as my body shivers with intense pleasure.

When the heavenly sensation finally subsides, I catch my breath and open my eyes. I see Jackson staring at me with warmth and love.

I fall forward and collapse onto his strong chest. He kisses the top of my head as he wraps his arms around me. He’s still inside me, and I never want him to leave.

I enjoy his musky scent as it filters through my nose.

“Thank you,” I whisper to him, raising my head and giving him a soft kiss. “I needed that.”

“Good,” he responds. “I’ll give you some time to catch your breath before we go for round two.”

“Round two?” I say with delight. I lay my head back against his chest and exclaim, “I’m the luckiest woman alive.”

I hear Jackson’s heart pounding underneath the mass of muscle. With his strong arms wrapped around me, I realize what I said is true. Ashley was the luckiest woman alive.

* * *

I don’t know how long I was asleep for. I guess the next three orgasms I experienced must have really worn me out. Jackson not only promised me a round two, but then surprised me with a round three, and round four. My hunger has been satiated. I feel warm, fuzzy, and complete.

As I turn over in bed, I notice that Jackson is not lying by my side. I sit up and see a note on the night stand beside the bed.

Hey Beautiful, Didn’t want to wake you. Went out to get some painting supplies. Just lock up before you leave. I’ll send you the next memory later today.

I smile as I read the note. I still can’t believe how comforting and wonderful this latest memory was. I’ve never experienced anything so passionate yet tender.

As I slowly get out bed, I notice I’m a little sad that this memory is over and that I have to go back to being me, Rebecca. I get dressed and head downstairs. I glance at Jackson’s paintings as I walk toward the front door.

I hope one day I master the art of cooking the way Jackson has mastered the art of painting. I still have a long way to go.

When I open the front door to leave, I’m startled to see a man standing outside in the hallway. His back is to me.

“I was just about to knock,” he says with a grin as he turns around and faces me. Then the grin on his face disappears and he turns pale white.

“Ashley?” he says, like he’s staring at a ghost.

I lower my eyes and shake my head, avoiding his gaze.

“No. I’m Rebecca.”

I can feel the stranger, who appears to be in his mid-forties, still staring at me.

“But you look just like her,” he mutters.

I finally look up and shrug, not sure how to respond.

“You even have the same eyes and hair.”

I’m starting to feel really uncomfortable as he keeps staring at me with a shocked expression. “Jackson stepped out. He’ll be back shortly. I gotta run.”

I try to move past him, but he grabs my arm.

“It’s like you’re her twin,” he says, studying every inch of my face. “Who are you?”

I glance at his hand, holding onto my wrist. “I told you, I’m Rebecca. Please let go of me.”

“Rebecca what?” He insists on knowing.

I don’t want to tell him anything more. I feel really awkward. “Just Rebecca. Now please let go of me.”

He releases his grip.

I quickly dart down the stairs and head out of the building.

Out on the street, I quickly call Kristi and ask her if she wants to meet. She agrees and we make plans to me at a café near a recording studio where she’s narrating another commercial. As we sit down at a table, Kristi takes one look at me and asks, “What’s wrong?”

I look at her and confide, “I just got a little freaked out. I ran into a guy, who I guess is a friend of Jackson’s, and he was staring at me like I was a ghost.”

“Well, isn’t that the whole point of this arrangement, that you look a lot like Ashley? That’s to be expected,” Kristi speculates.

“I guess,” I concede. “It just made me feel weird. Sometimes I wonder if I’m going to go crazy the longer I keep doing this.”

“Do you mean having all this incredible sex is going to turn you into a sex addict? You’ll start prowling the city streets on the hunt for men,” Kristi teases.

I shake my head. “It’s more serious than that,” I admit. “Doing this last scene, acting out that memory, it was strange. I felt like I was really losing myself. I kept forgetting that I was playing a role; I was so in the moment with him. I couldn’t tell what part was me and what part was her.”

“That’s good,” Kristi suggests. “That’s what acting is all about. It’s what every actor strives for, to lose themselves in a character.”

“But I’m not an actress, Kristi. I’m not like you. And what I’m talking about is a little different. This isn’t a role in a play or movie. It’s real life, but then it’s not real at the same time. I don’t know how to explain it. All I know is that it’s really weird.” I let out a heavy sigh and open up my menu.

“I think it’s easy to explain,” says Kristi. “You’re getting freaked out because you’re falling in love with him.”

I put down my menu and whisper across the table. “I can’t fall in love with him. What’s happening between us isn’t real. That’s what freaks me out. Because there are these moments when it feels like it is. There are these moments when he’s looking at me, that I forget that I am pretending to be her. It feels like he’s actually looking at me. But he’s not. He’s looking at her, but my body can’t tell the difference. It feels the same. I keep forgetting that he’s not really seeing me when he looks into my eyes, he sees her. When he says he loves me, he means he loves her. This is really crazy and weird.”

Kristi ponders what I just said. “Let me just ask you one question.” She leans forward, “When you’re in these moments with him, are you enjoying yourself?”

“Yes,” I admit. “He makes me feel like I’ve always wanted a man to make me feel. If this wasn’t so crazy, I could easily see myself falling in love with him – under different circumstances, of course.”

Kristi slowly nods her head and then leans back in her chair. “Then I would stop worrying so much. Enjoy the ride. Most people go their whole lives without ever finding true love.”

“But this isn’t true love,” I reply, exasperated. “None of this is true. I’m pretending to be his dead wife. This is all an illusion.”

Kristi simply shrugs her shoulders and responds, “I’d take an illusion that includes an orgasm over reality any day.”

“You’re such a hedonist!”

“Guilty as charged,” she acknowledges.

“I just don’t know how I’m going to survive this without going crazy,” I muse. “Maybe the next memory won’t be so intense. I mean their relationship can’t be this passionate all the time. It can’t last, right?”

“It doesn’t last,” comments Kristi. “She dies, remember, Rebecca? That’s why he hired you to play her.”

Kristi then peruses her menu. “Do you want to get some dessert?”

“Okay,” I nod.

When the waitress returns with a slice of carrot cake, Kristi grimaces with disappointment after taking one bite.

“Your carrot cake is so much better, Rebecca.”

I’m still too busy thinking about Jackson – and our peculiar arrangement – to appreciate her compliment.