for the shot sometimes come and chat with me about the process. I’m an eager student, more interested than I thought I would be to know the ins and outs of production. The hours are grueling, but he never complains. Several of the scenes have zero script and are heavily choreographed fighting sequences. Most of the time, it’s all I can do to keep my hands off him, especially when he approaches me on a break, sweat covering his gladiator-like build. He takes his job seriously and gets along well with the director who is merciless in the number of takes he makes him go through. I’d watched them all closely, appreciating the experience. It’s eye-opening, to say the least.
Some nights he’s so exhausted when we get back to the hotel room, he can only manage a shower and a few sentences before he passes out.
Last night, after a shower he had asked me for a massage. I obliged, diligently rubbing him for a few minutes and trying to savor what time we had left but had worked myself up all day to be on the receiving end of his attention. It’s easy to get riled up after watching while he showcases the limits of his body and talent for endless hours. Though selfish, I think better of putting him to sleep and can’t help my wicked idea to keep him awake, if only for a little longer. He grunts when I straddle his back, putting most of my weight on his firm bare ass. He’s a bit of a nudist when we’re behind closed doors, and that gets no complaints from me.
Admiring his lean athletic frame, his tan skin, and the naturally drawn muscle of his biceps due to the way he’s situated, I allow myself a few seconds of appreciation before I strike.
Lazily I draw an X on his back while trying to stifle my laugh.
“I need all your fingers,” he groans, “not just one.”
“Don’t worry, you’ll love this. Crissss, cross, ap-ple-sauce.”
He lifts his head and turns to address me over his shoulder. “What in the hell is criss cross applesauce?”
“It’s a Swedish technique, trust me,” I say, pressing my lips together to hide my grin. “You’ll love it.”
He shakes his head, red-rimmed eyes closing before he plants his head in the pillow. “If you say so.”
I start from the beginning as if the interruption ruined my process, but when I tap the back of his head with the side of my closed fist and belt out the rest, he goes stiff beneath me. “Crack an egg on your head!” I slide my fingers in an ooze-like motion down his back, “feel the yolk gushing down.”
“What the fuck, Mila?” He groans into his pillow too tired to move.
I’m already laughing when I smack my fist against his back.
“Stab a knife, in your back, feel the blood gushing down.” I walk my fingers up his toned muscle and spout the rest in a sing-song voice. “Spiders crawling up your back, spiders crawling down.”
“Worst masseuse ever,” he grunts. “Are you being serious right now?”
I’m barely able to get out the rest through my snorts. “S-S-Snakes slithering up your back, snakes slithering down. Criss cross app-le-sauce.”
“Swedish, woman? What kind of fucking torture was that?”
“You didn’t like it?” I say, bursting into laughter as he lifts to pin me beneath him, eyes narrowed. I shrug in his hold unable to hide my smile. “Maybe you shouldn’t ask me for massages.”
He shakes his head with a knowing grin. “That’s a man’s tactic. Do a shitty job so they don’t ask you to do it again. And Mila, baby, don’t ever do that again.” He leans in further with a flash of teeth. “You little weirdo.”
“None of the other men in my life have had a problem with it,” I smart. His eyes glaze over with something that looks a lot like jealousy.
“Good thing I’m the only one left.”
“Are you?”
He nods as the air between us charges with something indescribable. “I’ll be the last man standing. I assure you.”
“Ah, and how will thee persuade me?”
“Oh, trust me,” he says, sliding his hand down my body and pulling up my silk negligee before slipping thick fingers inside my panties, “I’m gonna get the girl. Even if she’s shit at giving a massage.”
“Think so?” I say breathlessly, already pulled in the undertow.
“I know so.”
“Do your worst, Hollywood,” I murmur just as he presses inside me and takes all the words away. He spends the next hour