Smitten

But when I begin tugging at the waistband of my Calvin Kleins with a brazenly lascivious look on my face, Alessandra finally breaks. “No!” she shouts, standing up. “Fish, no!”

I burst into laughter, which sends Alessandra laughing in relief, and in short order, the entire room—every single person in this coffeehouse—is laughing uproariously, like they’d been holding it in throughout my entire performance.

Maddy calls “Cut!” and flashes me a grateful smile. At which point, Alessandra barrels to me, her face aglow.

When my love reaches me, I open my arms to her and she crashes into me.

“Thank you!” Alessandra breathes. “Thank you so much.”

I kiss the top of her head. “You didn’t need me. You were already a star.”

“You saved me from total and complete disaster,” she says, squeezing me. “I can’t believe you did a striptease for me.”

I smell her hair. “Baby, I’d do anything for you. Just name it, and it’s yours. Always.”

She looks up, her eyebrow cocked. “Anything?”

“Anything,” I reply. And I don’t feel the slightest bit of anxiety when I say it. It’s the truth. This girl can take it all. Anything and everything, it’s all hers.

Alessandra smiles devilishly. “That’s good news. Because later tonight, I want you to show me the rest of that striptease.”

Twenty-Nine

Alessandra

“Best day ever,” I say to Fish as we stroll, hand in hand, toward the door of our hotel room—and it’s the truth. Thanks to Fish, we snatched victory out of the jaws of defeat today at the music video shoot. Or, at least, I was able to give Maddy enough to be able to stitch together something that won’t be too embarrassing.

Thankfully, everyone else in the video gave stupendous performances today, so maybe nobody will notice me in the final product too much. Fish was adorable! And Keane, Georgina, and Laila were amazing! Plus, the rock stars who promised to show up for cameos actually did it! And all of them oozed star quality during their brief stints on camera. And to top off this incredible day, Fish and I got to enjoy a wonderful meal in Brooklyn after the shoot—a boisterous “wrap party” at a trendy eatery hosted by Reed and attended by everyone involved in the video. And now, the cherry on top? Fish and I are heading back to our room to finally be alone, and naked, again.

We reach the door to our room and release our hands so that Fish can unlock the door. When he opens the door for me, I leap through the opening with aplomb, like a ballerina entering from stage left in a tutu, and Fish makes me laugh by leaping into the room after me like he’s Prince Siegfried in Swan Lake.

When the door shuts behind our loping frames, I spin around, laughing, to face my prince—my Prince Charming—and, without hesitation, barrel into him and begin attacking him.

In no time at all, we’re both down to our underwear. And, to my surprise, this time Fish unsnaps my bra with ease, before flinging it across the room.

“Impressive!” I exclaim.

Fish winks. “I practiced last night after you fell asleep. Shame on you if you fool me once. Shame on me if you fool me twice.” As I giggle, Fish leans down and voraciously kisses my bare breasts, causing my knees to buckle underneath me.

“I have to lie down,” I choke out, too aroused to rely on my legs another moment.

I tumble happily onto the nearby bed with a squeal, and clap as Fish reaches for his underwear, clearly intending to rip them off.

“Wait!” I command. “You promised me the grand finale of today’s striptease.”

“Ah, yes.”

“A deal’s a deal.”

Chuckling, Fish lets go of his waistband and pulls his phone out of his jeans on the floor. He fiddles with his device for a moment, his rock-hard bulge straining behind his undies and his chest heaving with excitement, until, finally, a song begins blaring from his phone. It’s a rock song that’s either really, really old or really, really new and intending to sound super cool and retro. I’m truly not sure which.

After placing his blaring phone on the nightstand, Fish gives me a show, to the thumping beat of the song. And as he dances and shakes his ass in his underwear, I can’t help noticing the lyrics of the song. Clearly, my hot boyfriend chose this song purposefully—as a love letter to me. The words of the song are simple ones that get straight to the point. There’s no poetry here. No metaphors. The singer wants to be with his girl all the time. “Day and night.” Indeed, he says, quite passionately, he never wants to leave her side, ever, because he only ever feels “all right” when he’s with her. By her side.

“What is this?” I ask, indicating the phone.

“The Kinks!” Fish says. He stops dancing. “‘All Day and All of the Night.’ It’s a classic.”