Wardrobe Malfunction
Page 20
She laughs; it’s light and airy. “I need you to run lines from act four with me again, Mr. Happy. I can’t get them to stick.”
“Sure. Whatever. Give me five minutes.”
Then, he looks at me again. It’s a look that tells me he wants me to leave.
“Okay, so I’ll be going.” I start backing away. “If you need me for anything else, Vaughn, have Alex call my cell.”
He doesn’t even bother to respond.
Alex does from his seat at the table where he’s working on the laptop, “No worries, Charly. I’ll call if we need anything.”
“It was nice to meet you.” Natasha smiles at me, taking a seat at the table. “Oh, and I love your dress.”
“Oh. Thank you.” I run a hand down it. “I made it.”
“You made it? Wow. It’s really good. Are you a designer?”
“No.” I shake my head. I just want to be one.
“Well, you should be. It’s amazing. Do you have any other designs? I’d love to see them.”
“Jesus Christ,” Vaughn growls, getting up from his seat, pulling the tissues that protect his clothes out of the collar. “I feel like I’m in a fucking episode of Project Runway.”
“You watch Project Runway?” I stifle a laugh.
“No, of course I don’t fucking watch Project Runway,” he barks at me. “Now, are we running these lines or not?” he says to Natasha.
And that’s me being dismissed.
The makeup girl catches my eye, giving me a smile—the one people like us who work in the movie industry share, which says that all actors are stuck-up assholes and not to take it personally.
But I am taking it personally.
Because, after last night, for a crazy moment, I actually thought he was a nice guy.
The Vaughn who got his driver to take me home so that I wouldn’t have to get a cab—what happened to him?
Apparently, he was an anomaly.
I won’t make the mistake of thinking he’s a good guy again.
“Bye,” I say in general.
I get responses from everyone, except for Vaughn.
I step outside, back into the bright sunshine. Pushing my hands into the pockets of my dress, I walk back to wardrobe, my steps a lot heavier than they were on my way here.
Vaughn
Sex scenes.
Fucking hate them. First day of filming, and Brandon wants to jump straight into them.
Those clothes that Charly spent time getting ready for me are to be taken off by Natasha.
I’m trying not to think about how weird I feel about that.
Dressed by the woman I currently want and can’t have—as Jack so kindly reminded me of last night—and undressed by my costar and friend.
In the movie, she’s a stripper, and I’m a hard-ass Mafia guy. In this scene, I’m going to be fucking her on the bar top in the nightclub where she dances while people watch us. Alongside those other actors, fifty crew members will also be watching us simulate having sex. I’ll be butt-ass naked, apart from the cock sock I get to wear. All the while, Brandon will be firing out orders at us on how to fake fuck correctly.
Not fun at all.
I’ve worked with Natasha before, but this is the first time we’ll be doing a sex scene together. And a sex scene like this is always tough, especially on the first day of filming.
Brandon says he likes to get the important and difficult scenes done first, so there’s time to come and revisit if needed.
Honestly, I just feel weird. Doing sex scenes in general feels strange. But that’s not what’s bugging me most.
Charly is.
Or how I feel about her…
Basically, how much I want her.
I can’t remember wanting a woman this much before. Especially not one I’ve known for such a short amount of time.
Seeing her this morning didn’t help anything. She was in that sexy little dress, which, as I heard, she’d made herself. I don’t know why I find that hot, but I do. And those boots…Jesus Christ. I have visions of her wearing nothing but them—her long legs wrapped around my waist, the heels digging into my back, while I fucked her hard.
I can’t seem to stop obsessing over what it would be like to fuck her.
But I can’t. I need to keep my mind on this film and nothing else.
So, I was distant with her this morning. I figure, if she thinks I’m a moody asshole, then she won’t try to be my friend. The last thing I need is for Charly to try to be my friend.
But that still hasn’t stopped me from thinking about her since she left my trailer this morning.
I’m on set, and we’ve already shot the first scene, which was Natasha dancing for me. Now, we’re getting ready for the sex scene.
I have to change from the suit I’m wearing into another one of the exact same, but that one will have some marks on it.
I go into the changing trailer on set, where Alex put the spare clothes for me. Ava’s in there. But no sign of Charly.
“Hey,” I say to Ava.
“Change time?” she asks with a smile.
“Yeah. Where are the clothes? Never mind,” I say as I see them hanging off the rail.
I grab the suit and then look inside the garment bag for the cock sock.
“Ava, there’s no cock sock in here.”
“There isn’t?” She comes over to look. “Was it in there earlier?”
“I don’t know. Alex got the first set of clothes out for me.”
“Sure. Whatever. Give me five minutes.”
Then, he looks at me again. It’s a look that tells me he wants me to leave.
“Okay, so I’ll be going.” I start backing away. “If you need me for anything else, Vaughn, have Alex call my cell.”
He doesn’t even bother to respond.
Alex does from his seat at the table where he’s working on the laptop, “No worries, Charly. I’ll call if we need anything.”
“It was nice to meet you.” Natasha smiles at me, taking a seat at the table. “Oh, and I love your dress.”
“Oh. Thank you.” I run a hand down it. “I made it.”
“You made it? Wow. It’s really good. Are you a designer?”
“No.” I shake my head. I just want to be one.
“Well, you should be. It’s amazing. Do you have any other designs? I’d love to see them.”
“Jesus Christ,” Vaughn growls, getting up from his seat, pulling the tissues that protect his clothes out of the collar. “I feel like I’m in a fucking episode of Project Runway.”
“You watch Project Runway?” I stifle a laugh.
“No, of course I don’t fucking watch Project Runway,” he barks at me. “Now, are we running these lines or not?” he says to Natasha.
And that’s me being dismissed.
The makeup girl catches my eye, giving me a smile—the one people like us who work in the movie industry share, which says that all actors are stuck-up assholes and not to take it personally.
But I am taking it personally.
Because, after last night, for a crazy moment, I actually thought he was a nice guy.
The Vaughn who got his driver to take me home so that I wouldn’t have to get a cab—what happened to him?
Apparently, he was an anomaly.
I won’t make the mistake of thinking he’s a good guy again.
“Bye,” I say in general.
I get responses from everyone, except for Vaughn.
I step outside, back into the bright sunshine. Pushing my hands into the pockets of my dress, I walk back to wardrobe, my steps a lot heavier than they were on my way here.
Vaughn
Sex scenes.
Fucking hate them. First day of filming, and Brandon wants to jump straight into them.
Those clothes that Charly spent time getting ready for me are to be taken off by Natasha.
I’m trying not to think about how weird I feel about that.
Dressed by the woman I currently want and can’t have—as Jack so kindly reminded me of last night—and undressed by my costar and friend.
In the movie, she’s a stripper, and I’m a hard-ass Mafia guy. In this scene, I’m going to be fucking her on the bar top in the nightclub where she dances while people watch us. Alongside those other actors, fifty crew members will also be watching us simulate having sex. I’ll be butt-ass naked, apart from the cock sock I get to wear. All the while, Brandon will be firing out orders at us on how to fake fuck correctly.
Not fun at all.
I’ve worked with Natasha before, but this is the first time we’ll be doing a sex scene together. And a sex scene like this is always tough, especially on the first day of filming.
Brandon says he likes to get the important and difficult scenes done first, so there’s time to come and revisit if needed.
Honestly, I just feel weird. Doing sex scenes in general feels strange. But that’s not what’s bugging me most.
Charly is.
Or how I feel about her…
Basically, how much I want her.
I can’t remember wanting a woman this much before. Especially not one I’ve known for such a short amount of time.
Seeing her this morning didn’t help anything. She was in that sexy little dress, which, as I heard, she’d made herself. I don’t know why I find that hot, but I do. And those boots…Jesus Christ. I have visions of her wearing nothing but them—her long legs wrapped around my waist, the heels digging into my back, while I fucked her hard.
I can’t seem to stop obsessing over what it would be like to fuck her.
But I can’t. I need to keep my mind on this film and nothing else.
So, I was distant with her this morning. I figure, if she thinks I’m a moody asshole, then she won’t try to be my friend. The last thing I need is for Charly to try to be my friend.
But that still hasn’t stopped me from thinking about her since she left my trailer this morning.
I’m on set, and we’ve already shot the first scene, which was Natasha dancing for me. Now, we’re getting ready for the sex scene.
I have to change from the suit I’m wearing into another one of the exact same, but that one will have some marks on it.
I go into the changing trailer on set, where Alex put the spare clothes for me. Ava’s in there. But no sign of Charly.
“Hey,” I say to Ava.
“Change time?” she asks with a smile.
“Yeah. Where are the clothes? Never mind,” I say as I see them hanging off the rail.
I grab the suit and then look inside the garment bag for the cock sock.
“Ava, there’s no cock sock in here.”
“There isn’t?” She comes over to look. “Was it in there earlier?”
“I don’t know. Alex got the first set of clothes out for me.”
