See Me (6 page)

Tipsy was short. Petite was the word he was looking for. The way she fluttered about getting things ready reminded him of a little fairy. After he stepped out of the bathroom, naked under the robe, Tipsy motioned for him to have a seat on the bed. He sat down and let her start to flutter all around him.

She piled a goop of gel in his hair and started to run her slender fingers through the short strands. “You have nice hair. The client’s going to love you.”

Sean had never cared too much about what his hair looked like. It was always cheaper and more convenient to keep it shaved. “Thanks.” What was he supposed to say?

“Now, Sean, this is how the client wants the video.” Carl flipped through a yellow notepad as he chewed on the cigar. Sean must have been giving him a funny look. “Sonsabitches won’t let me light up in here.” His robust laugh made Sean smile. “So today you’re going to do a bath sequence. The typical nighttime routine stuff, then off to bed. Any questions?”

Tipsy gave his cheeks a swipe with a soft cloth. “When do I do it?”

“By
it
,” Carl said as he flipped another page. “I assume you mean masturbate?”

“Yeah.”

Carl laughed again. “Not today, stallion. The client wants to watch you getting ready for bed, naked butt and all. No touchy-touchy on this one.”

Sean stood up, almost toppling Tipsy over. He grabbed her elbow, steadying her back onto her feet. “Sorry. So does this mean I won’t get paid?”

“Paid? You’ll get the standard $1,000 for solo no sex. Didn’t Ron run through this with you?”

Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t. He just knew that he’d gotten a $500 check for performing during the interview. Shit, he hadn’t expected to make twice that for doing what he did every day.

“Well, you still in?”

Sean sat back down on the bed and held as still as a statue for Tipsy to do her primping. For $1,000, they could dress him up like a fucking chicken if they wanted to. “Hell yeah, I’m in.”

* * * *

“Goddamn son of a bitch!” All the frustrations boiled up as Abigail pounded her flip-flop on the little square machine. “Stupid—stupid—son—of—a—bitch!” Abigail stopped only for a millisecond to see if she’d succeeded in killing the device. The machine continued to play “Anytime” by Brian McKnight. Barely taking a moment to catch her breath, she started whacking away again. “Why—why—why? God, why?”

“If you don’t like the song, all you have to do is hit the Stop button.”

The yellow flip-flop toppled out of Abigail’s hand when she spun around. Sean was leaning against the door frame. She’d left the office door open.
Crap!
Who else had heard her outburst? “Huh?”

He prowled into the room and picked up the sandal. “The song. All you have to do”—he strolled over to the machine and hit the round Stop button to silence the song—“is hit the Stop button.”

The silence was needed. The echo of the machine sounded too familiar, and the dread the song brought was too much. How many times had he played that song on her machine in Seattle? How many times had she smashed the other machines trying to silence the eerie messages? Too many times.

She sat down behind the desk and pretended to organize papers to steady her shaking hands. “Give me my shoe, smartass.” She hadn’t intended for the remark to be so harsh, but his presence unnerved her. She wasn’t quite sure where she stood with this guy. The smile crossing his face dimmed. He handed over the shoe. “What can I do for you, Mr. Drennan?”

Even though he stood a good two steps away, she could smell the spicy scent of his aftershave. The exotic teaser sent a warm rush to her pussy. She was going to have to go in the bathroom after this little visit and knock one off. Not like her naughty parts hadn’t had plenty of playtime last night while she watched the video of him in the blue room. They’d filmed the entire audition. They filmed all the auditions. They had to see how the performer was going to look on film. Sean’s tape was legendary in her eyes. All silky skin and chiseled physique staring back at her from the TV.

Sean looked great. All three times she watched it, he seemed to look sexier each time she pushed the Play button. Every night, the image of him stroking his long shaft invaded her thoughts. All day too, for that matter. Last night was no exception. The image of his powerful legs spread on the sofa was a welcome relief for the anxiety that was her constant bedfellow. The daydream of him was her pleasure, and he didn’t even know it.

She walked over to the metal desk in front of the window and slipped her foot into the flip-flop. Sean dug his hands into the pockets on the front of his jeans, making the bulge in his pants stick out even more. God, she needed to cool off, or she was going to make a real ass of herself. Her ex always said she was a klutz, a blubbering idiot when she got flustered, and a fat ass when she got dressed. The thought made her jerk back to the crippling anxiety that always plagued her day.

Sean was standing in front of the desk, staring down at her. Had he been tanning? His pale skin had been kissed by the sun, and her skin took notice. A shiver skidded over her, making goose bumps blanket her arms. After the terrifying message on the answering machine, the last thing she needed was to feel
this
for a man, even if he was the most delicious specimen of the species she’d ever laid eyes on. Justin made a lethal promise that night when he’d left her bleeding on the bathroom floor. If she ever laid eyes on another man, she’d pay; so would he, for that matter.

“Ron told me I could come by today to get paid for yesterday’s session?”

Of course, he was there for money, not to see her.
Stupid woman!
“Oh yes. Okay. Let me just…” She unlocked one of the desk drawers. “Solo no sex, right?”

“Yeah.”

“You can sit down if you want.”
Please, sit down. Let me look at you for a while. Shit! Abigail Swanson, do you
want
to die? Just stay with the videos. Much safer.

“I’m good,” he said, continuing to loom over her desk.

“Um, okay.” She filled out the check and slid it across the desk. “Here you go. Did you enjoy the shoot?”

Without looking down, he folded the check and put it in his back pocket. “It was good, not at all what I was expecting.”

“How so?”

“I took a bath and got ready for bed. No big deal.”

Abigail gave the pen a couple of clicks. “They won’t all be like that.” She had plenty of ideas how she’d like to see Sean on film. One thing was for sure, she liked the solos. She was thankful she’d gotten the PO box last year. After the formatting process, all videos were sent to her. All the videos had been other client’s requests, until now. Now the lonely little box would house her most private pleasure DVDs. Sean’s scenes would be ready and waiting for her to pick up.

“I know, but it was, I don’t know…cool.”

The butterflies in her belly slowed their flutters. “I’m glad you had a good time. Do you feel up to another one?” She turned the appointment book sideways. “I have two more that would be right up your alley. This one.” She pointed to the date box for tomorrow, then quickly pulled her hand back. Had he seen her trembling? “It’s another solo but with self-play and some toys. The woman wants a man with a tattoo like yours. You’re built a little bigger than she requested, but I think she’ll be pleased just the same.”

He rounded the desk, his big body crowding her. She wasn’t complaining, but his warmth wasn’t helping her self-preservation cause either.

“Toys?” he asked.

When he leaned back, his crotch was eye-level. Without thought, she licked her lips and let her gaze caress the bulge in his jeans. God, he wasn’t even hard, and she could make out the outline of the thick shaft. He was built for a woman’s pleasure.

When her eyes finally met his downturned stare, she gulped. He was smiling at her. A mischievous grin that spoke volumes. He had every woman on edge and damn well knew it. And this particular woman was ready to crawl out of her chair and mount the bastard. “Yes, toys. Like being tied to the bed with straps, or the use of a Fleshlight.”

“A what?” Well, that got his attention.

Safe material, she thought, the topic of sex toys was right up her alley, and she could talk over the subject all day. “Yeah, they look like a flashlight but are soft and squishy on the inside. Some are even shaped like a mouth and throat. The guys seem to like them. They aren’t as good as the real thing, of course, but can be different and fun.”

“Hmm. Okay.”

She pointed to the calendar. “So, tomorrow would be good for you?”

He took a step back. “How about Thursday? It’s my turn to teach a wrestling class at the boys’ center tomorrow. The other coach will be there, but we do the class together. I can’t miss it.”

Now that was intriguing. “You teach wrestling?”

She studied him as he walked back around to the other side of the desk. When he turned, his dark brows were knitted together. Had she offended him?

“Yes, so will Thursday be okay?”

“Um, sure. Thursday will be fine. Just be here around two. Ron will get you all set up.”

“Just straps and that flashlight thing?”

She couldn’t lie to him. “Well.” She cleared her throat. “Would you be opposed to the use of nipple clamps?”

“Nipple clamps? That sounds painful.”

“It’s a good pain. I promise. We have novice ones. I’m sure those would do just fine for the client.”
I’d love to see those brown points squeezed into the purple clamps
. “Maybe the purple ones? Ron can have them ready. They’re lined with little pads.”

“Will I get paid the $1,000?”

“Actually, it will be $1,500 because of the toys, and you’ll be…you know.”

He flattened his big palms on the desk and leaned in. “No, I don’t know. Maybe you should clarify. What exactly am I going to be doing?”

She stared at his hands. Those rough fingertips could circle her clit with just the right amount of pressure. She would come quickly. Her clit hummed with the thought. The urge to shift in her seat was overwhelming.

“Um, you’d be touching yourself.”

His face was so close she could smell the scent of spearmint waft from between his full lips, kissable lips that were built to be on her skin, between her legs. “Where? My chest, my stomach? I really need you to be more specific.”

Her T-shirt was way too damn tight. She couldn’t breathe. “Your…your cock.”

She’d ripped the words from her clenched chest, and what reward did she get? He stood back up and started toward the door. “Sounds good. I’ll be here on Thursday, two o’clock.”

Before she could curse his birth and call him a bastard, he was gone. Damn, the man was frustrating and a pain in her ass, but she couldn’t stop thinking about him. The way he walked from the bathroom to the bed in the first video made her squirm. There was such a sense of confidence in the way he tugged on the blankets to crawl into that bed. He was at ease in front of the camera, but there was something behind those beautiful eyes, something sad. Abigail knew the look. She’d seen it a thousand times in the mirror. No matter how wide her smile was, there was always the pain behind it. She could see so much of herself in Sean.

She rubbed her hand over her stomach. The memory of that horrible night slammed into her brain. The blood, there was too much blood spilling on the floor, and she knew it. There was no way she thought she could have survived the assault. Really, she thought, she’d been dead inside for years. Between Justin’s beatings and trying to hide from her parents, it’d taken its toll and killed the happiness inside, leaving behind the crippling anxiety she had to live with even now.

She tried to grip the handle of the coffee cup and couldn’t. The shaking was getting worse every time she thought about the marriage that almost destroyed her. She still couldn’t figure out how she had the courage to file the divorce papers. Every book she’d read said the violence would get worse if she tried to leave, but she couldn’t live the lie any longer. But, really, she just traded one lie for another. Now her pathetic life consisted of dinners alone in her apartment and watching videos of a man she knew she couldn’t ever have.

“You’re a piece of work!” she said to herself and used both hands to steady the coffee mug.

Chapter Five

“Damn, double damn!” Abigail kicked the skinny jeans off her ankles and stomped back to the closet. The bed was already covered with various shades of blue jeans, some stone-washed, some boot-cut, and some were even ripped in just the right places.

She started in on the summer dresses. “Yellow? Jeez, no. Pink? I’m going to look like I should have a wad of cotton candy in my fist! Come on…come on. Wait!” She flipped through the dresses, then knelt to rummage through the shoes. She stood back up and started in again on the dresses. “This just might work.”

The black strappy summer dress was casual enough to wear to a night out at the bar or a friendly dinner. Not that she’d done either in years. Standing in front of the mirror on the back of her bedroom door, she did two more turns. The dress was a bit low-cut, but she could wear the little knit sweater she’d bought to go to the adult Internet awards last year. It had been a great investment of her time. She’d gained a wealth of information and learned about the business. She dug in the tall chest of drawers and turned to Penelope. “Yes…maybe?”

The sweater was definitely not working. “Crap! Crap! Crap! I’m not going. This is ridiculous.” She grabbed her phone and noticed Ron had texted. She tapped the flashing icon.
U R coming! Get your ass over here
. She smiled and turned to the mountain of jeans on the bed.

“Okay, skinny jeans and tank with light gray sweater. I can do this. I can do this.” She tossed the phone on the bed, slipped the black dress over her head, and tossed it on the floor. When she caught a glimpse of her stomach in the mirror, she cringed. The white scar reached from the tip of one hip to her belly button. The bastard thought he’d cut deeper than he had. She shook her head to fight the shiver that still wanted to rack her body. Back to the bed, she yanked on the dark skinny jeans she’d had on before.