Shea:

 

            The rumbling cab pulled to stop outside the production site. I paid the cabbie generously and stepped out, awe and amazement shocking me at the sight that lay before my eyes. Trailers. Trucks. Hundreds of crew milling about, doing assigned duties. Generators amidst a sea of orange power cords. And security prowling the fenced perimeter.

            Slowly, I made my way to the front gate. “Hold it,” a deep voice said behind me as he placed a heavy hand on my shoulder. “Can I see your clearance pass, please?” he asked as I turned to face the tall, intimidating man who’d stopped me.

            I nodded nervously, bringing my purse of to chest level to search for my pass. But when I couldn’t find it, I realized Randolph never gave me one. “I never got one,” I said quietly, glancing up at the guard’s unimpressed face.

            “Nice try, honey. Now unless you can show me a pass, get off the property,” the guard stated with obvious annoyance.

            “Listen, Dwayne,” I began, reading the brass nameplate pinned to the front of his navy blue uniform, “I’m Shea Walker. I’m playing Helen Demuir.” Dwayne crossed his arms over his broad chest and looked at me with irritation. “Call Randolph. He’ll tell you.” Still no response. “Where’s Nick Carter at? He knows who I am,” I added, hoping to reason with this seemingly unreasonable man.

            “Oh! Nick Carter! Well, why didn’t you say that? It’s always been our policy to allow entrance to women who don’t have passes as long as the claim to Nick Carter! I always jeopardize the safety of one of the biggest celebrities if someone drops his name in my ear!” Dwayne replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I’ll tell you what. If you get on your knees and suck my dick with that fine mouth of yours, I’ll let you into see Nick,” he suggested, a glimmer of hope and desire twinkling in his eyes.

            I was shocked. And outraged. “You can’t talk to me like that! I am not at all interested in fawning over Carter! I am not some teenybopper fan who wants to get my jollies off with him! And I am NOT about to suck what you pathetically call your dick!”   I cried with hostility.

            Dwayne stepped forward and grabbed my arms fiercely. His face two inches from mine, he spat, “No pass. No entry.”

            He shoved me back roughly and I collided with something hard, yet possessing a quality of softness. A pair of strong hands clutched my elbows to prevent me from falling entirely to the ground and helped me regain my balance. “Thanks,” I said, picking up my purse, which had fallen during the altercation.

            “Are you okay, Shea?”

            I lifted my eyes at the sound of my name to meet a familiar pair of baby blues. “Yes, Nick. I’m fine. But Dwayne here won’t let me in because I don’t have a pass,” I explained, jerking my head toward the now surprised security guard.

            Nick smiled at me and winked. “I’ll take care of it,” he whispered. Placing his hand on the small of my back, he ushered me forward. “Dwayne, I’d like you to meet Shea, my leading lady. It seems as though the producers neglected to give Ms. Walker a pass,” Nick said to Dwayne, his palm still flat against my lower back.

            “Well, Mr. Carter, if she would have just told me that, there wouldn’t have been a problem,” Dwayne argued, sneaking a glare in my direction. “Please go on in.” Dwayne buzzed the gates open and Nick guided me inside.

            As soon as the gates closed behind us, his hand dropped from my back. And for a moment, I missed the warm, assured touch. We walked side-by-side through the mass of orange chords, neither of us speaking, toward the rows of gleaming silver trailers. “Thank you, Nick. I appreciate your help back there,” I stated softly, breaking the somewhat tense silence.

            “Yeah. You’re welcome,” he muttered in reply.

            “Do you want to get lunch today? My treat since you saved my ass,” I offered.

            Nick spun toward me. “Look, Shea. I never said we’re friends. I told you I would be civil. But we are not friends. We don’t do lunch. We don’t have coffee. We don’t hang out.”

            I stepped back, shocked at his abrupt mood change. “Fine, Nick. If that’s the way you want it,” I said, once I’d regained myself. “But someday I hope you’ll forgive me so we can be friends again,” I added.

            Nick looked me directly in the eye, our blues meeting. “Some things can’t be forgiven,” he muttered.

            Our stare down continued until a cheery voice interrupted us. “Hi, guys!” A beautiful woman with waves of raven-colored hair approached us. She had dazzling chocolate eyes surrounded by lush black lashes. Her skin was flawless. Not a wrinkle. Not a pore. Not an ounce of fat. Her outward perfection made me feel self-conscious about my own appearance, having never completely lost the weight I’d gained from carrying Tristan. Everything from her exquisitely shaped lips and radiant smile to her lithe waist and slender hips.

            “I’m Deirdre Von Stratton,” she announced with obvious pride. “You must be Shea,” she said with a warm, welcoming smile as she shook my hand in her firm, yet delicate grip. “And you,” she turned toward Nick, “are definitely Nick.” The welcoming smile she’d given me evolved into a coy, flirtatious display complete with eyelash batting.

            “So you’re Rachel,” Nick half-asked, half-stated.

            “That’s right, Nick,” Deirdre cooed, winking at Nick. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from myself from laughing out loud at the untamed flirtation occurring right before my eyes. “You and I’ll need to be really close to execute our scenes correctly.” She sidled up to Nick, looping her arm through his. “We’ll need extra practice to make our kisses look natural and realistic.”

            I snorted. Both Nick and Deirdre turned toward me. “Sorry. I sneezed.” Nice cover. Deirdre smiled in understanding before returning her attention and affection back to Nick.

            “All cast members report to location D in one hour,” an authoritative voice boomed over the loudspeaker system.

            “That’s our cue,” Deirdre chirped. “We’re off to makeup. Although I can’t for the life of me figure out why you need any, Nick. You’re already gorgeous.”

            “Thanks, Deirdre,” Nick replied.

            Deirdre looped her arm through mine in the same manner she had with Nick moments earlier. “Stop by my trailer for practice anytime, Nick,” she called over her shoulder as she led us to hair and makeup.

            As we walked Deirdre squeezed my arm tightly against her body. “Damn! What I wouldn’t give to get that boy alone for one night. I bet he’s dynamite in the sack,” Deirdre remarked.

            I chuckled.

            “What? You’re not at all curious about his bedroom skills?” Deirdre questioned, her eyes wide in astonishment.

            “No. I can’t say that I am,” I answered truthfully. ‘I already know,’ I thought to myself as a smile crept across my face.

 

Nick:

 

            I glanced at my watch for the tenth time is just as many minutes, a sigh of frustration leaving my lips. It had been nearly a half-hour since the cast assembled at Location D, but still Randolph and the director hadn’t shown. I just wanted to get the show on the road. My tights fit me like a second skin and bunched up in places deemed uncomfortable. I felt exposed. Practically naked. Available for every wandering eye, especially that of Deirdre, to gaze and gawk at. And speaking of Deirdre.

            The raven-haired actress sauntered toward me, her hips swaying dangerously. I couldn’t deny she was beautiful. Giant ebony curls piled high on her head and spilling down her back. Her lips painted a vibrant red that shimmered in the sunlight of this surprisingly warm February day. Her bosom bulged over her neckline, the corset manipulating her full breasts into an impressive amount of cleavage.

            “We meet again, Nick,” she said, sensuality oozing from her voice. She held her gloved hand out to me and I kissed the knuckles lightly. “Are you excited to begin shooting?” she inquired, sashaying around me and resting her chin on my shoulder. Her hands snaked around my chest, caressing down toward my silk tights.

            “Not excited. Anxious maybe,” I replied, trying to ignore her warm breath on my neck and her hands on my hips.

            “Me too,” she breathed. “I can’t wait to feel your mouth on mine. Your hands dancing across my breasts. Touching me. Stroking me. Bringing me to the heights of your expertise. Showing me pleasures like I have never known,” she whispered huskily.

            I closed my eyes as her tongue traced the outer edge of my ear, my hands reaching back to cup her velveteen backside. I pulled her close to me, her teeth nibbling the lean muscle running the length of my neck.

            Applause broke the moment and I opened my eyes to see Randolph and the director, Steven Vasquez, mounting the platform. “I’m so sorry we’re late. It won’t happen again,” Randolph apologized. “Today,” he added with a chuckle, drawing a communal laugh from the gathered cast and crew. Deirdre moved to my side and laced her fingers with mine. “Let me introduce you to an amazing director who has several time piece movies under his belt such as Conquistadors and The Mark of Hitler. Mr. Steven Vasquez!”

            Thunderous applause erupted as Steven took the mic. “Thank you! Now, we only have three months. Three months to make this movie. And make it the best anyone has ever seen!” he shouted. I laughed. He sounded like a head coach during a pep talk. Someone trying to rally the troops.

            My eyes wandered across the sea of faces, stopping at a pair of puzzled blue eyes half-hidden beneath questioning brows. I untangled my fingers from Deirdre’s and I could see her following my gaze across to Shea out of the corner of my eye. She looked over at me with one eyebrow raised, a questioning smirk on her ruby lips.

            “Now, in your trailers, you’ll find production itineraries. You’re not required to be here unless you have to shoot. But feel free to come at any time,” Steven continued. “We’re shooting Scene 32 at Location A, 19 at B, and 27 here at D. Unless there are any questions, disperse!”

            Shea walked toward Deirdre and me, looking radiant in a black satin gown with a crinoline skirt and plunging bodice. “You shooting today?” she asked as she came to a stop before us.

            I shook my head. “Apparently not. So why in the hell did they make me put on these God damn tights?!” I asked with humored annoyance, yanking at the skin-tight silk. Shea chuckled.

            “I don’t know, Nick. But let me tell you that I have never seen an ass that sexy in my entire life,” Deirdre replied as she caressed my silken behind. “I’m off to Location B. See you tomorrow, Shea.” Deirdre added one more squeeze to my buttocks as she meandered away. “Oh, and Nick?” she began, pausing her stride to look back at me. “Come by my trailer so we can pick up where we left off,” she finished before continuing on her way, my eyes glued to the feminine sway of her hips under her ruffled skirt.

            “You shooting?” I inquired of Shea, returning my attention to her. She shook her head. “Well, do you want to share a cab?”

            “Sure. I’ll meet you by the gates after I change,” Shea said, lifting up the satiny material of her billowing skirt slightly. “I can’t imagine wearing this across town!” she giggled.

            “Well, you look good in it,” I complimented, bringing a flush of scarlet to Shea’s golden cheeks.

            “Thank you, Nick.”

           

            Fifteen minutes later we hailed a cab for our respected domains. “Are you still with Reagan?” Shea questioned.

            The questioned seemed casual to the inattentive ear. But I knew those five words held an underlying meaning. “Yes,” I answered.

            The cab pulled to a stop in front of Shea’s apartment building, the red brick spackled with graffiti looming above us. “You see how easy it can be to fuck up, Nick?” I glanced at her as she opened the rusty door. She stopped and placed her hand on my forearm. “Just be careful with Deirdre. She would like nothing more than to discover your bedroom talents,” she stated, a blush creeping up her neck. “You may not believe it, but I do still care for you. I always will,” she whispered, stepping out into the warm air.