"Carrie," Tom said in that accusatory tone he had. He was a barrel-chested man with a shiny bald head and old Navy tattoos on his arms. Gay as a Mardi Gras parade, but in that rip-your-throat-out way that made sure his sexuality was never an issue. "You took some photography classes or something like that, right?"
Why the hell did he care? "Yeah, I did. In college."
"Then grab that camera and take four shots of each actor during their scenes." He turned and walked out, back toward the massive, rented beach house we were defiling this week.
"Wait! What?"
Six months I'd worked for this porn film company, but they'd never let me do anything more than filing, stapling, shredding, printing--anything and everything to do with paper, actually. I'd assumed it was due to the fact that I was a girl that I wasn't involved in the actual filming, though why the actors would mind, I couldn't figure out. After all, they were all gay.
"Use the camera," Tom said slowly, frowning, "and take pretty pictures."
I ignored his assholishness for now. "But isn't that Brad's job?"
"Brad got promoted up into marketing. Now it's your job. Deliver the shots to someone there when you're done."
Well, congrats, Brad. He was kind of a jerk, but in a prissy way that made him easy to make fun of. He thought he was butch. I was a girl and had more butch while wearing a tiara and a frilly dress than Brad would have with a full beard and stained overalls. Not that I wasn't adorable. I had girl-next-door looks, with curly red hair and big brown eyes that had been known to send a man to his knees a time or two. Not recently, but I still had hope.
This photo thing, though... I swallowed. Okay, I could do this. I'd never actually been on set for a scene before, but how difficult could it be to stand off camera and take a few pictures? They'd want good shots of the actors that they could use on ads and such, so they probably didn't want me getting too graphic. I could focus on faces and stuff when the guys got down and dirty.
And if you've seen one naked and horny man, you've seen them all, right?
Besides that, today would be a cakewalk because they were doing a series of scenes where one guy would be alone, masturbating for the cameras. I figured that was a pretty tame live introduction to gay skin flicks. I had, um, sampled the merchandise a time or two, so I knew what this was all about.
Tom left, and I snatched up the digital camera Brad usually used. I took off the flash, knowing I wouldn't be allowed to use it and disturb the lighting for the video. The card could hold two gigs, and the battery was fully charged. It had a manual focus, but it could also auto focus. There were other features that might be cool, but I'd figure them out later. Better to have really good basic shots than terrible experiments on my first day.
I wondered if I should look for Brad's past photos to get a feel for what marketing expected, but my gaze snagged the clock, and I realized I didn't have time. I grabbed up a shooting schedule and left the guesthouse for the bedroom in the main house where Cal Westmoreland would be for the first shoot of the day.
Cal was about my height and slim, pretty, a natural blond, and an absolute sweetheart. Definitely not shy about showing a lot of skin, but kind of bubbly about it. He'd probably tease me about having to take photos of him jacking off all by his lonesome. Which actually seemed an odd role for him. The other guys called him the company's token twink, and he was usually under someone else. Or so I'd heard, because I'd made sure he wasn't in any of the samples I'd viewed.
Cal and I had hit it off pretty much immediately upon meeting each other six months ago. We were both fans of all kinds of romance novels, and he'd even gotten me hooked on the male/male romances he read on his laptop. He loved that I'd jumped right into reading about two hot men falling in love with each other. Our discussions still made me blush, but I was sure he didn't know that it was because I had a huge, lusty crush on him. He was my very good friend, and I dearly loved him for his friendship, but I would've given anything to have him not be gay. I wanted so much to make him mine.
I arrived at the bedroom and, through the open door, saw a blond lounging on the bed, but he wasn't Cal.
Tall, broad-shouldered, blue-eyed, and bulging with muscles described the golden god who was Scotty Shadwell. He was the reason I was here. Scotty and I had bumped into each other at the reunion, and he'd told me about this film company he worked for that had an opening in the office. I could get my foot in the door, he'd said, and see where it took me. Later he'd had a good long laugh at my expense when I'd discovered the nature of the films Steele Pictures actually produced. We were back to being friends like we had been in high school, but I ached for him just as much as for Cal. Damn them both.
"Hi," I said, trying not to gawk at the perfection of him. Thank God he still wore a pair of gray boxer briefs, or I might've been toes-up on the carpet in a dead faint.
"Hi," he said, grinning. "So did you finally kill Brad to get out of doing any more paperwork?"
I rolled my eyes at him. "Tom said he got promoted into marketing."
"So is this a promotion for you?"
I knew he was thinking of the financial woes I'd shared with him a few days ago. I had twenty-five dollars to my name until payday, and that wasn't until Friday. All Scotty knew was that I was in debt and trying to pay it off. He didn't know the rest.
My brilliant poker game idea had been going strong until I'd heard whispers about cops getting wind of them. I was so not going to risk arrest, but now Uncle Ralphie was circling because my monthly, one-grand payments had stopped. I'd thought he was a family friend and would treat me as he'd treated my father, but now I was feeling increasingly like a baby seal in the deep blue ocean knowing something with lots of teeth was somewhere below me in the dark. Uncle Ralphie had my car already, didn't know about my laptop, and hadn't once invited himself over for dinner to discuss things.
I blushed now, though, and admitted, "I actually didn't ask if this was a promotion or something temporary."
"That eager to get away from the office, huh?"
"Here's hoping I don't screw this up and have to go back."
Man, he was beautiful. Cal was kind of androgynous when he wanted to be, but Scotty was all big, strong, masculine man. Laid out on the bed, one arm thrown up beside his head, legs relaxed and spread, he looked like an ad for...well, really hot porn. Cal and I had concurred more than once that Scotty would make an excellent cover model for our romance novels. Here Scotty was with the white of the bedspread making his tan skin honey colored, and he was already semihard beneath those gray briefs.
Yeah, it worked for me.
"It's pretty much point and shoot, honey." His grin went wicked as he started slowly stroking his six-pack with those long fingers.
I cleared my throat so I wouldn't moan and held up the shooting schedule. "I thought Cal was going to be in here now. That's what it says here."
Martin, the director, heard me and snorted. Here was a man who could've doubled for Dr. Smith from the old Lost in Space episodes I used to watch when I could still afford cable. "Nobody wants to see a twink jerk off when they could watch a stud like Shag."
Shag was Scotty's nickname. Shadwell had become Shagwell and then just Shag.
"Thanks, Martin," Scotty said. "But I love to watch Cal."
It was no secret that Scotty and Cal worked well together and, therefore, often. I'd heard it was because their affection for each other resonated with the customers. I guessed it might be easier to perform with your actual lover, though I couldn't imagine being comfortable with all those cameras trained on me. Cal had said what they did on set was different from what they did at home. Like a goob, I'd asked how so, and he'd patiently smiled while he explained that they fucked at work and made love at home.
I, of course, had sighed dreamily while he'd giggled at me.
Scotty looked back at me, and that lazily stroking hand was suddenly on his cock, smoothing the cotton briefs so they outlined the shape jutting toward his right hip. I gulped.
God, I didn't think standing around watching Scotty my first time out was going to be a good idea. Something would happen, and I'd swoon or moan or come or something equally embarrassing. I didn't want to be anything but completely cool about all of this.
"Take the shot," he said, his voice like a purr, and tucked both hands behind his head.
I swallowed, staring at him. He gave me a little smile I couldn't quite figure out, so I raised the camera and looked through the viewfinder instead of using the screen.
With his hands like that, the position emphasized his muscular arms. Biceps the size of my thigh, but he wasn't that overdone, steroid thing. He was just thick. Hard. Frickin' everywhere.
He bent both knees, but one stayed on the bed, flopped over like an invitation. I took a step to my right, getting better shadows across his abs and, yes, along that hardening cock too. There was just enough shadow to hint at the size of his balls.
A shiver snaked down my spine when I found him still wearing that smile. It looked kind of encouraging and sweet, so maybe that was all it was. If I stared too long at it, though, I might think he wanted me to climb aboard and really give the cameras a show. Would Scotty let me hold him down while I rode him hard? I bet Cal would.
I waited for my body to chill a second, then pressed the shutter button down. It took four rapid shots, and Scotty frowned at me.
"Don't tell me you're going to chicken out and take all four shots now." He sat up.
I shook my head, making red curls bounce into my eyes as my headband gave up. I fixed it one-handed and said, "When I've got a camera that can do it, I take a bunch of shots like that so I can pick the best one and delete the rest." I checked them. "See, in the first one you blinked, and in the last one you're already starting to frown."
"Huh," he said, grinning again. "She knows what she's doing."
A couple of the crew chuckled. Then Martin reminded Scotty about what he was supposed to do in the scene. It was a lot more than just beat off.
"Only a little time with the briefs hiding what you've got, teasing; then bring that thing out to play, balls and all. We'll move around for a few different angles, but it's pretty much up to you after that. Work yourself good, and make it last. Give me some direct looks into the camera, smile a few times, and make sure we can hear you. If you want to get up and change positions or take the briefs off after a while, that's fine. Just do it. You want a dildo?"
Scotty lay back down. "Nah, I'm good on my own."
I was already feeling a little too excited about what that meant.
"You." Martin pointed at me. "Don't step in front of the cameras, don't speak, and for God's sake, don't knock anything over in here. Take your photos whenever you want to, but quietly and without the flash. And that goes for the rest of you too. I'm not going to stand any whispering and shit like that this time. If your phone rings, I'll kill you all."
Then we took our positions, and those with cell phones got them out to silence them while Scotty waved me over.
I checked to make sure Martin wasn't watching, then moved close to Scotty as he leaned toward me. Figuring he wanted to whisper--God knew what or why--I let him hold the back of my neck to pull me closer still.
"Don't worry, Carrie," he whispered. "I know you can do this." Then he kissed my cheek and let me go.
I stumbled back, managed not to knock over a lighting stand, and then Martin turned and called for quiet and action. Everyone's eyes snapped to Scotty as he lay back again. His hand slid down his perfect torso until he was stroking his cock through the underwear. How he could look so relaxed while so many eyes watched him, while they recorded him, was beyond my understanding.
Then I realized he was staring at me. Staring at me and touching himself. I shivered again and felt sweat pop out on my forehead and upper lip. Oh, that's attractive.
I wanted to remind him that he was supposed to look at the cameras, not the only girl in the room, so I pointed at one of them.
He grinned oh so sexily, blinked lazily, and then bit his bottom lip as he made a low moaning sound that went straight to my core and nearly made me answer in kind.
The beautiful bastard knew exactly what he was doing to me. The big damn tease. So I raised the camera to my face and hid, pretending to wait for the next best moment to snap a photo of Scotty Shadwell, master tempter of horny boys--and at least one lonely girl.
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