Page 13 of Stroked Hard
Shit, I’m standing still listening to their conversation playing with Bellini’s swim cap. I shake my head, trying to rid thoughts of Hollis and turn toward Bellini. “Sorry about that. I was just making sure all the flowers were in place.” That seems to please her.
Putting her head back, as if there is a fan in front of her and she’s feeling the breeze in her hair, she prepares for the swim cap. I secure it tightly, making sure her freshly styled hair is tucked in perfectly. When I step away, I hold back the snicker that wants to pop out. The swim cap looks absolutely asinine with its fake flowers on top. It’s something you would see a synchronized swimmer from the seventies wear.
“Bellini, we are ready for you,” Jasper calls out. There is a girl assisting him, someone I’ve never met before. She has long black hair, tattoos, and is carrying around a clipboard. I wonder if she’s new. If she is, heaven help her, as she is in for a rude awakening when it comes to working with Bellini.
Reese, Jasper, and Bellini are huddled around, talking about the shots they want to take for the reality show, which yes, is all scripted. Every single show is scripted. If they weren’t scripted, you would be watching people sit on their asses, a TV tray in front of them while watching the latest sitcom on TV, wearing sweats with spaghetti sauce dripping down their chin. But instead, they make life seem so glamorous and fun, when in fact, a high percentage of these people laze about with their thumbs twiddling their vaginas.
Keeping my back to everyone, I finish cleaning my brushes, knowing that once I’m done, I’ll only have to stick around for a little longer to make sure Bellini doesn’t need any more touch-ups. Asiago bagel and strawberry smoothie countdown has begun.
I’m tucking away my curling iron when I feel a presence behind me. I don’t have to turn around to know who it is.
“Hey neighbor.” The crunch of him biting into something echoes behind me. “I like those shorts on you. They ride just high enough to give me a peek at the bottom of your ass when you bend over.”
“What do you want, Hollis?”
Another bite. He answers with his mouth full. “Can’t a guy be friendly with his neighbor? What if I was looking to borrow a cup of sugar? Would you really turn me down like that?”
Knowing he’s not going to go away anytime soon, I face him, adding one hand to my hip. The corner of his mouth smirks, making my little girly heart skip a beat. There is an apple in his hand and I watch in fascination as he brings it up to his mouth and bites down, taking out a huge chunk. Why is watching him eat turning me on?
“There is no need for you to have a cup of sugar right now.”
Rolling his eyes, he says, “Fine, a cup of your fine ass was what I was really looking for but I was trying to be polite. So, what do you say?”
“No.”
“No? You’re not even going to think about it?” He swaggers a little closer to me, and continues, “All right, I get it, you’re more into a tradeoff. Fair enough. I will trade you a cup of your ass for a cup of mine.” He puts his hand out and squeezes the air, indicating his intensions.
“I have no desire to cup your ass.”
His brow furrows. “I don’t believe that for one second.” He turns and pops his ass out toward me. I glance down for a second and take in his warm-up-covered bubble butt. Damn it. He does have a nice ass. No, that’s an understatement; he has an amazing ass. Its round, sticks out just enough to make any girl weak in the knees and it’s firm—at least it looks firm. “Go ahead, give it a squeeze. Free, on the house, no strings attached.” He does a come-hither look while motioning with his head to take advantage of squeezing him.
“Tempting, but I’ll pass.”
Standing straight, clearly not affected by my rejection, he takes another bite of his apple. “Nervous you’re going to fall in love? That I will ruin all men for you? Yeah, that’s happened before.” He points to his head with this finger, tapping his temple. “Smart, wait it out just a little bit longer. Weigh your options, just know, pudding puss, you can’t do any better.”
Instead of responding, I go back to packing up, which is less packing and more of me moving things around and busying myself since I’ve already packed all my things.
“So, how long have you been styling hair?”
Ugh, small talk. I hate small talk.
“Long enough to get me this job.”
“I see.” He steps closer, closing in on what little space is between us. There is a tap on my shoulder and when I turn around, he’s inches away, holding out his apple. “Want a bite?”
Eyeing the half-eaten fruit, I shake my head. “Do you really think I would want to share your half-eaten apple?”
He shrugs casually. “I don’t know. Might be sexy, you know, having both our mouths on it and all. If you want, I can go all Lady and the Tramp on you and we can both nibble on it, meeting in the middle.” Suggestively, he wiggles his eyebrows at me.
Crossing my arms over my chest, I tilt my head to the side and study him. “You really don’t give up, do you? Even when it’s obvious I have no intentions of sleeping with you.”
My heart catches in my throat as he lifts his hand and tucks a stray hair behind my ear before cupping my jaw, his face turning serious. “This isn’t just about sleeping with you, Melony. This is about getting to know you; when I find something I like, I go after it.” Why does the sudden intensity and timbre of his voice send unwanted tingles south?Why?Why can’t he be hideously unattractive?
Swallowing a little nervously, I respond, “Even if it’s un-gettable?”Please back off. Please back off.
“If the end result is you? Then yes.”Fuck.
Winking, he drops his hand from my jaw, bites into his apple, and parts from our close proximity, leaving me feeling slightly charged, a feeling I don’t want.
