With a luscious smile on her face.
Fuck.
132
Brittney
This is going to be easier than I thought.
Instead of focusing on what really matters, all the other women went for the crude and easy approach. They don’t seem to realize that sex isn’t about ... sex. There’s more to it than that. It isn’t about showing off your naked body, or moaning as loudly as possible. Do you want to know what the real secret is? The one thing that turns a hot woman into a Goddess, and that drives men into madness? I’ll tell you for free: it’s seduction ... The art of seduction is the key, and I’m an artist.
“Brittney … #26,” the casting director reads my name from a sheet of a paper, and I go up to my feet, a subtle smile on my face. Unlike the others, I’m not wearing a raunchy outfit; instead of going for the stripper shorts and dancer bra, I’m wearing a black tight fitting dress. It hugs my curves perfectly, and as I get up from my seat and everyone looks at me, I know I’ve made the right choice.
Both Ethan and the casting director—I believe his name is Joel?—lean back in their seats, their eyes roaming over my body. Walking with a slow but sure step, I walk past Ethan. I do my best to ignore him and head straight for the director. I tuck one lock of hair behind my ear, and then lean into him, my lips brushing against his ear as I speak. He listens attentively, his eyes lost on my cleavage, and then nods.
“Thank you,” I whisper as he gets up from his seat and dims the lights. He says something to the intern on the corner, and after he taps the keyboard on his laptop twice, the speakers mounted on the walls start to fill the whole room with a steady beat. Lights, music, action—here I go.
I walk straight to the center of the room, my back turned to Ethan, and I place my hands on my hips. Swaying my hips to the mellow rhythm of the music, I slide my hands down my legs as I bend over. I can almost feel Ethan’s eyes going over the curve of my ass as my dress hikes slightly up my legs.
I turn on my heels, and as if I was walking along a thin rope, I go straight toward him. I don’t care about the casting director or anyone else; Ethan is the one who matters here, and I only have one shot to impress him. You can rest assured that I’m not going to waste my only shot. Oh, no, I play for keeps—always.
Ethan leans back against his chair, his eyes locked on mine. I have his attention, but I know it’s not enough; a man like him is used to having whoever he wants, and I’m more than sure that women throw themselves at his feet every waking hour of the day. If I am to succeed, I have to be better than that.
Running my tongue over my lips, I place my hands on his knees and I lean in. Our mouths are so close that I can almost feel the air crackling around us as electricity builds up. I pull back then, arching my back and running my hands up his legs; my fingers are dangerously close to his groin, but I don’t dare to go any further. Good seduction isn’t about what you do; it’s about what happens inside the other person’s head. The trick is controlling what happens there.
“Brittney, right?” he asks me, his smart eyes widening with hunger. This is a good start.
“Brittney,” I tell him, leaning into him again. I look down at his lips, and then up. “Don’t worry, I have a feeling you’ll remember my name well enough.”
“We’ll see about that.” His tone is a calm one, but I can feel all the anxiety coiled underneath it. He can try and act aloof, but the grin on his face tells me all that I need to know. I’ve thrown my bait and he is already nibbling at it. Once he bites, all that’s left is for me to reel him onto shore.
My hands move over his crotch, and I hook my fingers on his belt. Biting on my bottom lip, I start to unbuckle it, swaying my hips at a slow tempo. Once the buckle is free, I pull the whole belt out from its loops; in one fluid movement, I place it behind his head, and grabbing both ends with my hands, I force him to lock eyes with me. Moving as if he were in a trance, he places his hands on my legs, his fingertips brushing against the hemline of my dress. As he motions to hike up my dress, I pull the belt from around his neck and snap it against his arm.
“No,” I say firmly, his eyes widening in surprise. He’s not used to having anyone take control, let alone a woman. Slowly, he takes his hands off of me, a grin of defiance on his face. Show me what you got, his eyes seem to dare me. Grinning back at him, I go around his chair, and once I’m behind him, I lean in and place both my hands on his chest. “You’ve never met a woman like me, Ethan,” I whisper into his ear, my fingertips tracing the contour of his hard pecs. Christ, what is he hiding under his shirt—marble and steel?
“What makes you think that?” he says, that defiant grin still on his face.
“Trust me,” I whisper into his ear again, my fingers sliding over to the collar of his shirt. One by one, I undo the buttons on his shirt, his chiseled chest coming into view. Yanking on the shirt, I bare his chest and let my fingers brush over his skin; his muscles seem like hard ropes of manliness, and something inside of me tells me to get a better view. “I’m not like the others.”
I walk around the chair again, and stopping right in front of him, I let my eyes wander over his naked torso. Not that I have a choice, as his hard pectorals and chiseled abs demand all of my attention. I mean, he has an 8-pack, for God’s sake. It seems that he’s part of that very special breed of men; money and pussy simply isn’t enough for them, and they want perfection in everything they are and do. I can’t wait to see if the rest of his body matches what I’m seeing right now…
Focus, I need to focus. Taking one deep breath, I turn on my heels and show him my back. I sway my hips gently and bring my hands up to my shoulders; slowly, I push down the straps of my dress, and they fall over my arms.
“Go on, I know you want to,” I whisper at Ethan, looking at him over my shoulder. As if my words were binding, he raises his hands and places them right below my neck, his fingers grabbing at my zipper. Carefully, he starts pulling it down my back, his knuckles brushing against my naked skin as he goes. A shiver goes up my spine as I feel his touch, and I have to close my eyes and take a deep breath to regain my focus. I can’t fuck this up.
When he has pulled the zipper all the way down to my lower back, he finally takes his hands off of me, and I push the drooping fabric of my dress down to my waist. I keep on softly swaying my hips to the sensuous tune, my back turned to him. I know how eager he must be to see me in my bra, the curve of my breasts peering over the cups… So I just make him wait; I’m the one in control here, after all.
My eyes are closed, but I feel the whole room fading away around me. As far as I’m concerned, only Ethan and I are here right now. The other women, the casting director, the interns… As f
ar as I’m concerned, they don’t even exist in the same universe as Ethan and I.
I throw my head back, my hair cascading down my shoulders as I move, and then I slide my hands up the side of my body. Hooking my fingers on the clasp of my bra, I pull it free and let the straps fall down my arms. As the cups start to droop, I throw the whole thing to the floor and place both my hands over my breasts, squeezing gently with my fingers. Everyone can see what I’m doing, except for Ethan, and that’s exactly how I want it. He’s the one I want to tease and torture, and I’m putting up this show for him only.
When I turn to face him, I keep my hands covering my breasts, hiding my hard nipples from him. One by one, I peel my fingers off, and I can’t help but grin as my eyes find something bulging between his legs. It seems that my curiosity was well founded; what he’s hiding underneath his pants seems to be at least as impressive as what he had under his shirt… If this wasn’t work, I’d want nothing more than go down on my knees, unbutton his pants and… God, my mind is wandering off again. Fuck, I have a job to do here.
“You want me, don’t you?” I purr, allowing my fingers to go down my stomach; when my fingertips meet my waistline, I move my hands to my hips and then hook my fingers on the fabric of the dress. Moving my hips, I pull it down and let it fall at my feet in a heap. “Cat got your tongue?” I ask him, taking one step toward him. His eyes are wide, and his lips slightly parted, almost as if he couldn’t hide how much he wants to fit them around my nipples. Well, I might just let him do it.
“You sure are a confident one,” he tells me, slowly pronouncing each word. I guess it must be hard for him to think straight when I’m half naked in front of him.