Dishing Up Love

So I do what any rational man would do in this situation.

I grab hold of Erin and pull her in front of me, facing the sausages and turning our backs to the camera, even though that’s a no-no in TV Hosts 101. I hear her little intake of breath when she feels the… pickle I’m in, pressing into her lower back, but I try to recover the scene and point to the ingredient we need.

“That, I’m sure you know, is the only sausage for the job, being a NOLA native and all,” I tell her, and she coughs into her fist and nods, sending her ass back into me as she bends over to grab one. My knees nearly buckle at the feel of her round globes encased in tight black material pressing against the front of my thighs. And it takes every ounce of self-control I have not to grab hold of her hips and grind into her. I only pray that the angle we are to the camera makes it impossible to see just how close we are. When she stands again, she turns to face me, my throbbing erection now pressed into her soft stomach.

“Andouille,” she states, and I nod.

“Super delicious, and even more fun to say. An-dooo-wee,” I singsong, and she giggles, her stomach muscles flexing and making me groan. I literally cannot take anymore.

I take a step back and say without looking toward my crew, “Cut. I need a bathroom break.” And glaring at Erin’s muffled cackle, I turn on my heel and head toward the back of the grocery store, the tented front of my jeans leading the way.

I return a few minutes later after tucking my cock into the waistband of my jeans, since the fucker refused to go down no matter how many times I chanted the National Anthem or thought of saggy old lady tits. Because in my mind those saggy old lady tits would suddenly morph into Erin’s perfect, perky handfuls inside her oversized tee with a David Rose quote from Schitt’s Creek, my favorite TV show of all time. Which means she must really love it too, if she owns a shirt with a quote from the show. And then all I could picture was her and me cuddled up in my big-ass bed binge-watching all the seasons, which led to me imagining doing all sorts of other things in said big-ass bed. So Operation: Get Rid of My Fucking Hard-On was a big, fat fail, and all I could do was hide him away behind my belt buckle.

“Feeling better, princess?” Carlos asks as I approach, and I shoot him the bird before taking my place in front of the sausages once more. Erin still sports a cute all-knowing smile, and I narrow my eyes at her.

I roll my head around on my shoulders to release a little tension and then nod at Martin, my director, letting him know I’m ready. After he calls action, I pick up where we left off.

“So, all we have left are a couple things in the produce section, and then you get to take me home,” I say, the usual flirtatious line I use on the females at this point in the show.

But instead of the normal reaction from the participant—a stuttered response and pink cheeks—Erin throws the sausage into the cart, grabs hold of the handle, and starts sashaying toward the produce, tossing over her shoulder, “I don’t suppose you’re going to come up with a way to add cucumbers, squash, and eggplants to the red beans and rice, because I’m starting to sense a theme here.” She turns just enough to eye my ever-present but hidden erection before meeting my stare with a smirk.

I hear Carlos bark out a laugh before covering it with a cough, and Martin murmurs, “Make a note to edit that out,” to his assistant.

My poor, throbbing dick will soon turn into a terrible case of blue balls at this rate, so I quickly snatch up the remaining ingredients without any more banter. “A yellow onion… celery… green onion... a green bell pepper… and fresh parsley. Boom, time to party,” I say, and hightail it toward the checkout.

Chapter 4

Erin

WHEN WE EXIT the grocery store, Curtis turns right toward the small parking lot just as I turn left to head home. I hear his feet stop abruptly on the asphalt, and then he calls out, “Did you park somewhere else?”

“Nope, I walked. I’m only a few blocks this way,” I respond, turning around to face him.

“We have all our equipment and vehicles, so uh….” He looks at a loss, and I tilt my head to watch him with interest. I’ve never seen him like this—on TV, I mean. He’s always sure-footed and perfectly together in every episode. It’s amusing to see him so… fish out of water.