Dallas
“I’ve been emailing your photographer,” Tricia says.
We’re both lying in bed naked. It’s been over a week since I’ve had sex with Tricia, and I thought that’d mean that when we finally had the chance to sleep together, it would be like fireworks. Like it used to be.
I was wrong.
She seemed distracted the whole time, even when I went down on her. And after an hour of trying to get her off, I gave up.
I hate giving up on getting a girl off. And it’s not even a pride thing. Watching a girl come is one of the most beautiful things in the world—like an addiction—and I haven’t had my fix in a long time.
I wrap my arms around Tricia, and she relaxes into me. “What about?” I’m wondering if her suggestion of wanting me to act single was just a test, and now she’s trying to use Britain to spy on me.
Britain saw me cornering Evan the other day, my face in her hair. What if she told Tricia? My stomach twists.
“How much you’ll make from your audition shoot.”
I relax, but only a little. “You’re worried about money?” Not about my fidelity. But about money.
She rolls over so she’s facing me. “I just know how hard you’re working in school, and I didn’t want you to be under any more strain if you didn’t have to be.”
“I’m fine,” I tell her. “It’s not really work. E—Rylan really knows what she’s doing and I kind of just follow her lead.”
Tricia giggles. “That’s right. Britain told me you got paired with the faux innocent one. The virgin skank.”
I push away from her. “Why would you call her that?”
“Because that’s what she is.”
“That’s what her character is,” I correct. “That’s not who she really is.”
She pushes against my chest. “Come on, she has to be a bit skanky to pose for that magazine.”
I can’t believe what she’s actually suggesting. “Trish, I pose for that magazine.”
“Yeah, but that’s different.”
“Because I’m a guy?”
“Because… Fuck, Dallas, I don’t know. Because it just is.”
It’s useless to get into an argument right now. I’m tired and irritated and have the worst case of blue balls. I can’t be in this condition if I’m going to be shooting with Evan today. I say nothing, kissing Tricia on the cheek and rolling out of bed.
If I don’t get myself off in the shower, I’m going to accidentally come during our shoot today—if it’s anything like our shoot last week.
^^^^
The studio is as busy as it was on
Wednesday, except a different kind of busy. As I walk in, several
women sitting on the couches go quiet, all looking up at me.
Instead of lingerie, they’re all dressed in jeans and t-shirts.
Britain is among them. Papers scatter the coffee table.
“Dallas,” Britain says. “Glad you’re here.” She gestures to a woman
with dark skin and curly hair sitting next to her. “This is Andrea,
one of our writers for this upcoming issue of EPE. She’s going to
be crafting yours and Rylan’s story for the magazine.”
Andrea stands. I walk over to her and shake her hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m sorry,” I turn to Britain. “Story?”
“Glad you asked. Rylan!” Britain yells.
“WHAT!” Evan screams from the dressing room. I bite back my grin.
“Get your ass in here. We’re talking marketing.”
Evan saunters out of the dressing room dressed as Evan—just as adorable as she when I saw her last in the coffee shop. No makeup, hipster glasses on, hair up.
“I don’t know what’s going on,” I tell Evan honestly when she’s standing by me.
“You and I are going to craft our love story.” Evan says dryly. “Yippee.”
“Love story?” I ask.
“With this issue, we’re trying to attract a bigger audience,” Britain explains. “That’s why we hired you. We want to appeal to women. Research shows that the type of erotica women tend to go for is erotica with a storyline.” She points to Andrea, and Andrea waves. “So I’ve hired Andrea here to write your story. Every issue, we’ll have a shoot and an episode.”
“Titled, ‘The Seduction of Rylan Willow,’” Evan drawls.
I snort.
“It’s not a joke,” Britain says seriously, looking at me.
“Oh,” I mutter.
“Anyway,” Britain continues. “We were hoping to gain a little inspiration from your ideas. Who should these characters be, how should the shoots be themed, etcetera. We could just make it easy. Billionaire CEO and his adorable little secretary.” Britain nudges Evan with her shoulder.
Evan scowls. “That shit is so overdone.”
“Fine then, Rylan. What are your ideas?”
Evan shrugs dramatically. “Why don’t you go all-out if we’re doing that whole dom-sub thing? Base it in a fucking BDSM club or something.”
Andrea makes a face. “Too hard to write a story for.”
“Come on, Rylan, you know better,” Britain says. “We need to work with what we have, too. Building a set for a freaking BDSM club would be way too difficult. Plus, we’d have to buy a bunch of kinky toys and shit.”
“Work with what we have,” I mutter. Everyone’s eyes flicker to me. “That’s easy. We run out of a university, for crying out loud. Student-Professor.”
The women on the couches start to murmur excitedly. While Evan groans, Britain’s eyes widen. “Dallas, you are a genius.”
“Genius!” Evan cries. “This is the context of our real lives. He just taught me last week!”
I shake my head. “But I’m not your professor. I’m a grad student.”
“Aren’t you afraid of what this is going to do to your image? The next time you lecture, you’re going to have undergrads falling all over you. How will your girlfriend feel?” If I’m not mistaken, there’s bitterness in her tone beneath all of that disgust.
“I told you,” I say. “I’m done guest lecturing for this semester. And I’m done with teaching. Next year they’re letting me dive fully into field research.”
This obviously isn’t what Evan wants to hear. She groans again and turns on here heel. “Well fucking fine. Give me a minute, let me go throw on some skanky catholic school-girl outfit and perfect my lip biting.”
Britain rolls her eyes as Evan stomps away and slams the door to the dressing room.
I sigh and push back my hair. “I should go talk to her.”
“Don’t bother,” Britain says, but I ignore her.
When I enter the dressing room, Evan is already standing in her bra and panties, sifting through racks of clothing. It’s hard for me to not stare at her delicious curves.
“Go away,” she mutters, not taking her eyes off of the clothes in front of her.
“Stop, Evan,” I tell her. “Look at me.”
Her shoulders slump, but her eyes still avoid me.
“You keep acting like this isn’t awkward for me too.”
“It’s different for you,” she says, pulling a white button up shirt off the rack and chucking it behind her.
“I have a girlfriend.”
“Exactly,” she says. “And I feel like the whore intruding on your relationship.”
“Evan. Evan, look at me, now.”
She blinks a few times and her eyes find mine.
“Don’t you ever call yourself that again, do you understand me? If anything, I’m the whore.”
She traces a microscopic school-girl skirt on the rack, and I’m positive her ass won’t fit into it. Maybe that’s the idea. “How does your girlfriend put up with this?”
“She loves it, actually,” I tell her honestly. She raises an eyebrow, and I continue. “She loves that it’s going to give us extra income. She even told me to act single on set.”
Evan narrows her eyes skeptically. “She did what?”
“To relax me. Because I felt bad about it, you know?”
“You seem confident enough,” she murmurs. “She must really trust you.”
“That’s what happens when you’ve been together forever.” And sometimes, you also forget that you’re supposed to be in love too, but I don’t tell Evan that. Instead, I step toward her, take the skirt from her hands, and throw it over the clothing racks.
“What the hell are you doing?” she cries.
“That’s not what women want to see you in. They want to see you in something they would wear.” I sift through the racks until I pull out a pair of low-rise jeans that look her size, and a pink rhinestone EPU hoodie. I hand them to her. “In this, you could be any female student on campus. That way, readers will be able to fantasize when they watch me undress you.”