Not In My Wildest Dreams (Dream Series) (3 page)

“Denise, can you please walk Mr. Stevens down to the studio for test shots?” Penny asked.

“Of course, Ms. Paulson. File?” She extended her hand over the desk, jangling an armload of silver bracelets. Penny handed her a file with the papers she’d filled out while we talked and the papers I had just signed.

Five minutes later, I was standing in front of a white back drop and some guy named Pierre, who acted a lot like a girl, was literally gushing with an accent about my ‘glorious height’, ‘fabulous hair’, and ‘stunning bone structure’. He was snapping shots at me with a fancy looking camera, in between fussing with my hair and calling over his shoulder to another guy about lights and panels and stuff. And then he had me stand one way and then another. Having me pretend a few emotions.
“You’re thinking about your girlfriend and you can’t wait to have her in your arms.” “You see the most gorgeous woman across the room.” “You’re hanging with the guys, watching a sports game.”

“Darling, would you mind taking off your shirt. We need to get a few shots of your physique.”

“Um, you want me to take off my clothes?” I asked, stunned.

“I’ve seen it all before, sweetheart,” he cooed, rolling his eyes.

I looked at the other people standing around. They all looked completely bored. I pulled my shirt out of my jeans, yanked it off, and handed it to the assistant who stood with his hand impatiently held out to me.

“Oh my,” Pierre sighed. “Okay, I’ve seen a lot.
Now
I’ve seen it all.” I felt really self-conscious as Pierre’s eyes raked over my pecs and abs. I was proud of my six-pack, but to have another guy eye me like the girls did was not why I did two hundred sit-ups every night. Pierre shook it off and lifted his camera, clicking a few dozen more pictures, having me turn this way and that.

When we were done, the assistant tossed me my shirt and started turning all the lights off. Pierre packed up his camera and went about his business. Denise was back at my side, and we were headed back to elevator.

“I think Pierre got a lot of great shots back there,” she said.

“Thanks,” I said. “It was the strangest thing I’ve ever done.”

“Well, you were a natural. Then again, Penny’s got an exceptional eye. She knows.”

We stood awkwardly for a minute. She pressed the down button, not the up button to go back up to Penny’s office. “We should have the test shots back in a couple of days. It’s already Thursday, so I wouldn’t expect the test shots back until Monday. Penny will look them over and we’ll give you a call. Your number is—” She opened the file and looked down the sheet where Penny wrote down all my info. “Two-oh-one? Oh, Hoboken,” she grimaced, wrinkling her nose.
Jeez,
I thought. I knew it stunk there, but hell, I didn’t have much money.

“Yeah, for now. Staying at a hotel there. But I didn’t know it would be so far. Know where I could find a cheap place to stay in this town?”

“Town?” she giggled, making me feel even more stupid than I had since arriving here. “This is a city. And nothing is cheap. You’re better off in Hoboken.” The elevator dinged and opened. I stepped back so Denise could step in. “No thank you, I’ll be going up.”

“Right. Sure. Of course,” I nodded and stepped into the elevator, then pressed the button for the lobby.

I left the building in a daze. I’d just driven for three days and nearly two thousand miles on some wild goose chase, and I was given the bum’s rush. Did I get the job or not?

I spent the next couple of days playing goofy tourist which would have been more fun if I was with someone. I saw the Empire State Building, the Brooklyn Bridge, and the Statue of Liberty. It was weird having read about those places in school and not giving two fucks about any of them, and now I was walking around looking at them all.

However, through the excitement at the famous stuff I was seeing, I was kind of missing home. People were just plain rude here. I was missing the midwestern manners. You know, like when someone bumped into you, they should apologize. Here someone would bump into me, and then they’d look at me like I was diseased and had gotten in their way. As annoying as a small town could be with everyone knowing everything about you, and everything you did got back to your parents before you got home, being somewhere where no one knew who you were and didn’t care was rather lonely. I thought it would be liberating, but I just felt blah. But I couldn’t go back home now.
Now
I had something to prove.

T
uesday rolled around and I pulled out Penny’s business card and dialed the office.

“Ford. Penny Paulson’s office. This is Denise.”

“Um, hi, Denise? This is Jack. Jack Stevens.”

“Jack. Hi, how are you?”

“Can I talk to Pen – er – Ms. Paulson?” I asked.

“She’s in a meeting for the next couple of hours. Can I have her call you?” she offered.

“Sure. The number I gave her last week is good. Do you know when I’ll start working?”

She was quiet. “Look, clearly you don’t know how this business works. You need headshots, pound the pavement, put in your dues. You don’t just show up and work in front of the camera.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Look,” she interrupted. She must be a New Yorker. Rude. “You’re hot. You have a chance. Want some advice?”

“Yeah. Please,” I begged, spotting a cockroach squeeze under the baseboard in the shit hole I’d been living in for the past few days. Fuck! I left a clean home for this. No job and a roach infested hell.

“Get a job. A flexible job, like waiting tables. Hit up all the agencies. Not just the big ones. You’ll need to get experience in the smaller ones first. And even those are a bitch to get into. You need headshots. I’ll talk to Penny about letting you use the test shots. They turned out well.”

She stopped talking, but I had only just started to process what she was saying. “So, I’m not going to be working for Ford?”

“It’s not my call. It’s Penny’s, but I’ve been sitting at this desk long enough—”

“But she said that the company was looking for more male models with my kind of look.”

“I’ll have Penny call you.”

The line went silent.
Fuck!
I’m thousands of miles from home. Running down my college savings. And unemployed.

Get a job.
I heard Denise’s words echo in my head. A
flexible
job.

I walked down to the front desk of the hotel, slapped a quarter down on the desk and took a newspaper back to my room. I spent the next hour combing through the classifieds, the whole time willing the phone to ring with Penny on the other end telling me that I was in.

But that call never came. By the week’s end, I had spent a thousand dollars of my four grand. Most of it shelled on actual living expenses, and a stupid amount on damn pay-per-view porn. And I had to learn how to do laundry. Shit.

The drip in the faucet only added to my frustration. I went to the front desk expecting to see the bald guy I had seen there all week. Instead there was a hot babe sitting, staring into a small TV wearing a name tag that said ‘Stephanie’.

“Hi, Stephanie. Who do I talk to about getting the faucet fixed in my room?” She laughed at me without looking up.

“Honey, this ain’t the Ritz Carlton,” she said in a nasally, conceited tone.

I cleared my throat and she glanced at me through her clearly fake lashes. I flashed her my best smile and said, “Can you point me to the wrenches maybe? I can probably get it fixed in five minutes flat.”

Her mood seemed to change and a coy smile spread across her face as she started to fluff her hair. “You can fix stuff?” she asked.

I shrugged. “Sure. Shouldn’t be a problem. I’m pretty good with my hands.”

“I bet you are,” she whispered, her eyes roaming over my chest without trying to hide it. “Come on. I’ll show you where the maintenance closet is,” she said, slipping out from behind the desk.

She led me down a hallway, shaking her fine ass, barely covered by a pair of jean shorts like the ones that Daisy Duke wore from that new show
The Dukes of Hazzard
. An image of me and Stephanie all tangled up in the back of the Plymouth Road Runner that Daisy drove in the show ran through my mind and I was hard as a rock. Sex in cars was the hottest thing. Okay, maybe not
the
hottest, but up there. Moments later, Stephanie opened the door to a closet, purposefully pushing her gorgeous tits into me, which were barely covered by her plaid shirt unbuttoned and only tied in the front, another Daisy Duke fashion statement.

She glanced down to my jeans, and my tent didn’t go unnoticed. “Is there
anything
you see that can
help
you?” She slowly blinked her bright blue eyes at me.

What can I say? She asked for it. A second later and I had her pressed up against the wall. One hand swiftly pulled the shirt open and pinched her already taut nipple. The other hand had efficiently unbuttoned her barely-there-shorts and I drove a finger into her dripping slit.

“Mmmm,” she groaned in my ear. “You
are
good with your hands.” She pressed her chest into my hand, and tilted her hips into my other hand.

“Are you just as good with your mouth?” I asked back.

She gasped and pushed me off of her. Before I could register what was going on, she slapped me. My cheek burned.

“Jackass!” she said pulling up her shorts and fixing her top.
Seriously? That name again?
“When you’re done, replace the tools,” she barked. I watched her march down the hall swinging that sweet ass at me. She shot back one last glance, and I would swear on a stack of bibles she was smirking. She was one hell of a dick tease.

I fixed the leaky faucet in my room with a wrench and some plumbers tape.

The next day, when the hotel’s manager found out about the repair, he offered me a job as a maintenance man in exchange for the room. The work was flexible, and easy enough, from repairing holes in the walls and broken windows, to fixing faucets and getting air conditioners to work. And staying for free, I was saving $225 a week.

Stephanie quickly became my biggest fan. She wasn’t a dick tease for long. A couple of days after our first encounter and her prancing about, wearing low cut tops and scraps of cloth for shorts, she came knocking at my door.

I opened the door wearing nothing but jeans, just out of the shower, toweling my hair. Stephanie leaned on the door jam and her jaw literally dropped. Loved that reaction when chicks got a good look at my cut biceps and washboard abs. Made the hours of sit ups and push ups worth it. Bet she was wishing she’d let me finish what we’d started back in that maintenance closet.

“Um, Sal wants you to fix something,” she mumbled.

“Oh yeah?” I asked, casually flexing my biceps as I continued to rub my hair with the towel.

“Yeah, only I forgot what it was.” She stepped inside and closed the door.

“Well, I’m pretty sure my room’s all good.”

“Things
do
look good here,” she said, standing a few inches in front of me. God, I was so hard. My dick’s had nothing but my hand for the past few months and I wanted to sink it into that sweet pussy I’d gotten a nice feel for a few days ago. But she had called me a Jackass, and that hurt. It was my turn.

“So where do things need fixin’?” I asked in a low voice.

“I guess it’s me. I’m sorry for last week,” she said leaning up against the wall. She bit her lip in a classic
come fuck me
way. Oh, how I wanted to.

I tossed the towel on the bed and placed my hands on either side of her head against the wall she was leaning on. “You don’t say?” I replied, playing her little game.

“Uh-huh. I was kind of a tease. That wasn’t very nice.”

I glanced sideways at the bed. “No, that wasn’t very nice.” I ran a finger along her jaw and down her neck and continued until my finger reached between her breasts…her gorgeous, round breasts “How can you make it up to me?”

Her eyes traveled down my chest and abs. I watched her chest heave as her breathing grew heavier. When her eyes reached the top of my pants, she licked at her lips.
Fuck! She wants to give me head! And I didn’t even ask.
And after she was so ‘put out’ when I mentioned it the other day, calling me a Jackass. Hell yeah I was gonna let her do it.

When she looked up at me, I glanced down at the top of my pants. She took the hint and went to work undoing the button and zipper, then dropped to her knees. She tugged down my jeans and her small, soft hands took hold of my huge, hard cock as it sprang from its confines.

“Commando, huh?” she asked, noting that I hadn’t any underwear on.

Truth was, I’d run out of clean ones and had to figure out how to do laundry yet, but she seemed turned on by it, so I played it off. “You know,” I said shrugging. “The ‘big guy’ needs to breathe.”

She got right to work and sucked me off, working me good. But just as my balls started to tighten and I was ready to explode, she pulled my dick out of her mouth and pumped it with her fist until I came all over her neck and tits.
Holy. Fuck! That was so hot!