Page 4 of Eat Slay Love

I, on the other hand, was forty-seven.

A decade older than him and worlds apart from the early-twenties models and starlets he was always photographed with. His type was women with flawless skin and tiny waists, who looked like they’d just stepped out of a fashion campaign.

It was probably why I hadn’t had sex in ten years, pretty much giving up with competing with those types of women in California.

I wasn’t bitter about it.

I knew my place—both in life and on this set.

I was the behind-the-scenes woman, the one who made sure everything ran smoothly so that men like Liam could shine.

You are worthy. You are deserving.

I put my view back on the set and sipped more of my coffee.

The studio lights blazed down on that massive bed.

I hope everything goes smoothly today.

A second later, Marco barked through his megaphone, "Rae! We need you on Liam’s patch!"

What?

I froze mid-sip, coffee hovering dangerously close to my mouth.

Liam, what did you and your cock do today?

For women, themodesty patchwas straightforward enough—a discreet thong-like covering, flesh-colored and adhesive, designed to cling to the actress’streasurelike a second layer.

It stayed secure even during the mostvigorous choreography.

Simple, functional, and, dare I say, almost boring.

But men’s patches?

Oh, those were an entirely different beast.

They weren’t just discreet.

They weren’t sleek.

No, they were. . .inventive.

Essentially, it was a sock—yes, an actual sock—forthatpart, complete with a drawstring, like a tiny, fabric sleeping bag cinched around the crown jewels. Because apparently, the modesty gods decided that men needed a touch of whimsy with their dignity.

A literal drawstring.

I always imagined some pervy inventor came up with the idea as he laughed in his lab.

Of course Liam can’t get all that cock in there. Had me up all night searching for the biggest one.

Sighing, I handed my coffee to my assistant, Gissele. “I’ll be right back.”

“Uh. . .” She blinked a few times. “I could do it for you, Rae.”

I knew how big of a Liam fan Gissele was. If she had to adjust his modesty patch, there might be a serious lawsuit triggered with her as the clear aggressor.

“I’ve got it, Gissele.” I smirked. “Just keep my coffee warm and my notes ready.”

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