I'm in the normal girl type. In Hollywood, that means pretty and thin but not drop-dead beautiful.
That's what this video needs. Not me. But a woman who looks a little less glamorous and a little more everyday.
Suggestions rise up in my chest. I have to bite my tongue to keep from spilling my ideas to Danielle. She has a vision. And she doesn't want my feedback. She doesn't want anyone's feedback.
This is a great job. I'm learning a lot. If things were different, if I was still with Adam, maybe I could risk it. But I need the cash more than I need to honor my inner Dangerous Noise fan or my inner filmmaker.
My inner filmmaker whines, but I'm going to keep my mouth shut.
For half an hour, I move lights and hold reflectors as Mal moves around the tiny studio.
He stares out the window longingly.
He tears off his t-shirt.
He climbs into bed, tugging at the sheets, raking his hand down his torso, staring at the empty spot next to him.
The man is somehow expressive and stoic at once. He has a quietness to him. But he still manages to convey this deep pain that goes all the way to his soul.
His blue eyes are filled with anguish.
His posture is heavy. Tired.
Then it's strong. In control. Demanding. I want you. I'll have you. I know you want that too.
He tugs at the waistband of his jeans.
He unbuttons them.
He goes to push them off his hips.
My heartbeat picks up.
My breath hitches.
Malcolm Strong naked.
In front of me.
Yes.
Now.
Please.
This is a fucking dream.
Only it's not.
Because there's this buzzing in my pants. My cell.
A text.
Karen: Twenty minutes. Sorry. She was late and wearing last night's makeup. And hungover. And cranky.
Lacey: Your new favorite model?
Karen: You're my favorite, babe. Let me do you after this. Please <3