Page 18 of Erik

After a couple of beats, which I use to even out my breathing, while rearranging my top, pulling it down over my jeans, he returns to the sofa. This time, he takes the other end, the one close to the door of the trailer.

Holding my gaze, he murmurs, “I respect your decision to stop. You’re afraid of the sensations you’ve experienced just now, aren’t you? You think you aren’t ready to explore those feelings.”

It’s more complicated than that. To him, I just answer, “That’s part of the reason, yes.”

“I see.” His finger flips a button on the cushion, but his eyes drill holes in my skull. “And you won’t tell me what the other part is.”

“Correct.” I shrug. “Not now.”

Probably, not ever.

He nods a few times, fisting his hand, the knuckles turning white. He whispers, “Food for thought, Christine. You’re more primed for that than you suspect. But we won’t do anything you don’t feel comfortable with.”

I let out the air that was trapped in my throat as he leans his head back and shuts his eyes. When I remain immobile, he cracks one eye open. “Come on.” He claps. “From the top.”

I resume playing and singing his songs. For the next half hour, he drops insights and suggestions, sometimes sitting up straight, but never getting close to me again.

When I manage to play half of a complex melody without flaws, he gifts me a wide smile before resting his head on the back of the couch. He taps his fingers on the armrest following my rhythm.

I could get used to this cozy, intimate scene. I shake my head to shoo the foolish thought.

Smiling, I attack the second part of the song, knitting my brows, biting my lower lip as I go.

The door swings open and a slim redhead barges in. I’ve seen her around the set shadowing Erik like an eager puppy.

Her cold blue gaze pierces mine as she jabs a thumb over her shoulder. “Beat it, bitch.”

Before I can react, she plops herself on Erik’s lap, frames his face with her hands, and kisses the heck out of him.

Shocked, I watch them lock lips. When bile churns inside my stomach, burning my self-respect, I throw the guitar in the case, and storm out of the trailer. As my heart crumbles, I jog to the parking lot. Erik’s yells reach my ears, but I ignore them. I jump on my motorcycle and peel off. On the rearview mirror, Erik’s reflection stands in the middle of the parking lot. He’s cupping his mouth and shouting something I can’t hear.

And I don’t want to know. Weaving through traffic, I zoom past vehicles I barely see. When a close call with an incoming SUV startles me, I decide this is not worth dying over. I slow down and take in my surroundings. The Palace of Fine Arts lies ahead, so I ride to the Presidio, and park my bike.

Taking off the helmet, I stroll to the foot-high concrete wall separating the sidewalk from the sand. I slump on it, gazing at the red structure of the Golden Gate to my left. The sun rays reflecting off the calm surface of the bay brings tears to my eyes.

They’ve got nothing to do with the slutty redhead. I’m happy she’s showed up. It reinforces my resolution to stop the lessons. Nothing good will come of them. He stirs emotions in me I can’t afford to explore.

My lungs burn with each labored inhale and exhale when I remember how he’s stalked me around the set. All those times I sensed someone watching me, it was him. Although he hasn’t confessed, I know he did it. I take a deep breath, allowing the air to leave me in slow-motion. It does nothing to fight the shadows creeping on the edges of my mind.

I shake my head, focusing on a freighter ship plowing the waters close to the horizon.

Maybe I’ve been wrong all these years. Maybe Erik’s wounds have festered, and nothing can heal them. I scoff. How pretentious of me to think I could help him, love him. I should leave this illusion behind, quit the biopic, go back to SafeSound, to real life.

Even as my heart shrinks, I stand up to leave. The foolish ticker doesn’t know better. I do. I tuck the helmet under my arm, and swirl around to head to the parking lot. My phone buzzes in the back pocket. It’s a message from the second unit director confirming my only scene will be shot early tomorrow morning.

I snap my head back, facing the sky, and mumble, “Okay, Universe, I’ll do this; but you’d better not mess with me.”

8

Erik

I’ve been meeting Christine every day for the past week, pretending to tutor her musical skills when all I can think of is spanking her feisty ass until it beams a healthy red. Not taming her because that would break her spirit. I long to introduce her to the pleasures her dark side will grant her if she gives in to it.

Right now, leaning my head against the back of the couch, while indulging in her soulful voice, I keep my eyes shut to better envision sexy paths I’ll lead her on pretty soon. Imagining how I’ll tease her sensitive spots until she sings for me in ecstasy, I tap my fingers on the armrest.

She thinks she isn’t ready to explore her own darkness. Each time I take a step in that direction, she recoils, and I struggle with my instincts not to snap. That’s why we’ve been going back and forth over the past days in a dizzying waltz around our opposing wills.

It makes me wonder, why the fuck do I bother to even keep trying? Why the hell does she keep coming back? Then, she purrs when I tweak her glorious nipples, unleashing her inner sexy tigress, like she’s done just now, and I all I want to do is bury my cock inside her sinful body.

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