Orlando (Blackmail #1) (2 page)

Mateo pushes Friday onto the table and grabs her thighs, forcing them apart. Ignoring the bottle of lube, a sneer covers his face as he forces his cock inside her dry pussy. Friday’s breath catches and her eyes water at the crude invasion. His groans fill the silence of the set as his hips piston in and out at a quick pace, and within moments, he pulls out, cums all over her stomach, and turns away from her.

Jude

(Said in a thick Spanish accent)

That was great Ann, but I still can’t be tied down. Go back home to Texas. The first two trips were fantastic, yeah, but it is over. Go home, Ann. Just go home.

(Ann begins to cry as she dresses. She sobs as she flees down the beach back. Slips and falls in the sand multiple times as sobs rack her body. Tears stream down her face blocking her vision)

DISSOLVE TO:

The waves crashing onto the shore after Ann enters bungalow.

“Cut,” I yell as my stomach ties deep into knots and I fight to remain in control. I realize Friday’s name overshadowed the script and was the actual draw that got me here. This script sucks. The thought of her blinded me to the shit storm I’m directing. “Get me the damn writers!”

I hate the way this script portrays the character Ann as a pathetic thirty-year-old woman hung up on a bartender at a beach resort. It’s typical, not original, at all. It took everything in me not to yell cut when Mateo slammed into her. I watched and waited for him to make a mistake, but it never happened. I heard rumors that Friday was skillful, but I never expected this. She executed her role to perfection. No cosmetic tears were needed. Hers were real.

My eyes follow Friday as she takes her phone from her assistant and checks her messages. Fuck did it suck watching her fuck someone else. Jesus all mighty.

“Kaciara,” I holler over the crew bustling around, moving the equipment to the next location. “Go take a shower.”

I don’t mean to sound like a horrid asshole when I say it, but it comes out that way. Her eyes narrow at me before she turns and heads off the set. One great thing about working on the beach is our cottages are a mile away.

“And someone get me Mateo’s fucking acting coach!”

Yeah, so maybe my jealousy is showing, but I don’t give a fuck. No one here knows of Friday’s long history with me. When Mateo’s acting coach saunters up to me with a conceited look that pisses me off even more, I lay into him.

“Give your actor some goddamn lessons on acting. Fuck, he didn’t even coax her in the correct way. He just jammed it right in there, and I didn’t miss the fucking flinch my star made at the invasion! So get your shit together and find the sex expert looming around here somewhere. The one reason I didn’t have to yell cut is because Kaciara is an excellent actress who knows how to go with the fucking flow!” I roar as I slam my headpiece onto my chair when I stand. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m the type of producer and director that checks on my stars.”

I dismiss the cocky acting coach as the two writers come up to me.

“You wanted to see us?”

Hell yeah, I wanted to see you, I almost say to them.

“Revise the end of the script. I’m calling for re-writes, and you know it’s in my contract to do so. It’s not original. Ann needs to have an epiphany and hang his ass out to dry. You need to show women empowerment here. Show something no one has done before. Change the happy love story ending with a cheating douchebag, to a woman who learned a valuable lesson and is freed in the end.”

Instead of frowning at my idea, the writers smile, and it boggles me for a moment.

“We had something similar until they told us to rewrite it if we wanted them to film it.”

Go fucking figure. I run my hands through my hair, glad I won’t have to argue with them over this.

“All right, get your original script and have it delivered to me tonight. I’ll read over it, and before I go to sleep, I’ll call to let you know if I’ll use it, or if you need to write another at the last minute. Sound like a plan?”

Both bob their heads up and down like eager puppies. “Yes, Mr. Dupree,” one of them says and beams at me. It is one of those flirtatious, I-would-love-to-get-naked-with-you grins as she brushes up against me, her palm running over the globes of my ass. Jesus fuck! Do they not understand boundaries? Sure, she’s pretty enough, but I’m not divorced yet. Even if I were, I’d be sleeping with Friday and not one of these writers. Things with one of them would most likely end up a mess, and then I’d have a novel or a script written about our trysts.

“I’m married. I don’t wear my ring while I work,” I answer.

As her smile disappears, the sex expert comes up to me.

“Yes,” she says.

“Yeah, teach Mateo some fucking common courtesy when it comes to seducing someone. He tore into her with no warning at all.”

The therapist takes out her Palm Pilot to take notes. “Anything else,” she asks without looking back up at me.

“Nope, but I shouldn’t have to ask for a sex therapist to teach a fucking porn star how to fuck. This isn’t supposed to be raunchy. It’s theater bound, for fuck’s sake.”

Frustrated, I throw my hands in the air as I walk off, pissed beyond belief. When I head off the set towards Friday’s cabin, I see one of the film crew seducing a secondary actress who plays one of the fuck buddies of the character Jude. Great. Where is the decorum? Is this how it was on the first two film sets?

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I yell, cross my arms, and glare at them fucking against a tree.

“I got horny, sir,” the crew guy responds with a shrug.

Is he serious? “You got horny from that pathetic scene?” I can’t help but chuckle.

“The slurping sounds, sir.”

Oh, god help me. “The slurping sounds? Are you fuckin’ with me?”

He shrugs as the two-bit actress fakes a moan. I make a mental reminder to schedule both of them with the sex therapist.

“For this,” I gesture around, “you’re getting docked for two days.” They aren’t salary. Crewmembers work eight hours a day and switch up on this film. “And this will go into a report. You both could have taken this to your private quarters. Don’t let me find either of you like this again. Not on my goddamn film.”

With that, I turn and finish making my way back towards Friday’s.

***

Chapter Two

Friday Caracci

Behind the Lenz

Orlando pissed me off. I was going to bathe. Some global porn star had his sweaty, meaty body all over mine. Of course, I wanted to scrub it all off. Orlando made me feel cheap the way he ordered me to go take a shower. And for him to make me feel that way, it hurt. It tore me to pieces.

The hot water rinses the soap from my body. When I feel clean enough, I turn off the water, step out of the shower onto the rug, and grab my towel. Once all the water droplets are gone, I wrap my hair so the towel sits on top of my head.

A knock sounds, and a familiar voice calls out my name. He made me feel like a worthless actress, so I’ll show him. Butt naked, I walk across the living room and open the door. His mouth gapes as he rushes in and slams the door.

“Get some fucking clothes on, Bucket. What the fuck!”

He needs to stop calling me that. I’m no longer the girl he honored with that nickname. When is he going to understand this? I walk over to my closet, grab my kimono, and tie it on. This is the best I’m going to do. I want to relax. I just had some asshole ram into my pussy while I was dry as can be. I should have yelled cut and asked for some lubricant, but with my desire to remain professional, and my secret wish for the scene to be over, I didn’t. My vagina is now paying for it.

“Friday, why the fuck are you doing porn?”

Here we go.

“This isn’t my first rodeo in this genre, Orlando. I did porn in Japan, multiple times in my younger days. Did you think I made it into a motion picture that easy? I went overseas to gain set experience, and one thing led to another.” I shrug. “A producer gave me notice and that was it. They buried my past with a false name. If someone digs hard enough, my youth can be found all over the place.”

He takes a seat on my couch, puts an arm on the side, and crosses his long, lean legs. “I understand that, but why now? Why, after you’ve become an A-list actress, would you do this?”

Orlando is upset with me. He is using that displeased tone that I hate to hear coming from his mouth.

“Why else would someone in my position do this,” I screech.

He uncrosses his legs and stares open-mouthed before responding. “You’re being blackmailed?”

I flop onto my bed. “Yes.”

He doesn’t like that answer even though he knew it before I gave it. He stands, paces the room back and forth, and growls in frustration. “Why didn’t you come to me for help, Bucket?”

I don’t answer because I can’t. If he knew, he would get even more pissed off with why I didn’t come to him in the first place. I so badly want to tell him how the reason he no longer wears his ring plays a part in my now revived porn career, but I can’t. He’d be furious with not only me, but also two other people in his life. I won’t be responsible for any more of his unhappiness.

“Just stop. Are we done for the day? We’ve only shot one scene, but I know you well enough to know you’ve decided to change something.”

He stops pacing and looks at me. “Yeah, I’ve called for rewrites, and for that piece of shit to get some fucking lessons on etiquette.”

I smile and pat the bed. “Lay with me like we used to when we were kids.”

Orlando grins, walks over to my bed, and kicks off his shoes before climbing into the left side and getting under the blankets. “Only for a few, Friday. I got boss shit to do.”

I mumble okay and crawl to the right side. This used to be our thing–lying together and just talking. I’ve missed it. If he knew the reason behind everything, he wouldn’t be laying here with me. He’d be yelling and throwing stuff all over the place before he’d storm out in rage.

“So, how’ve you been,” I ask as I tuck my hands under my cheek and peer at him.

He turns to his side and lifts up on one elbow. His long length has his feet hanging off the end of my bed. As I gaze at him and his beauty, I can’t help but inwardly sigh. He’s downright sinfully gorgeous. His green eyes, square-jawed face, and beautiful, dirty blond hair make him one of the sexiest men in Hollywood. I knew when I was a child, he’d be delicious when he got older. He had that nerdy sexy thing going on when we were younger.

Being this close to him makes my palms sweat. Our chemistry has always been dangerous, and since he says he’s getting a divorce, and we’re older, I can’t help but wonder if things will change between us. A girl can only hope.

“I’ve been better. I’m getting a divorce. You know how I feel about those,” he replies to my question, and his response makes my stomach knot. Maybe I should have left well enough alone.

“I’m sorry,” I say, my words soft and quiet. What else should I say?
Hey, glad you’re a single man?
Yeah, that’s not rude at all.

“Are you really?”

I tuck my lips together and respond with silence. That’s how I answer. He can read me. He knows me well enough to figure that out for himself.

“How’s your pussy feelin’?” He chuckles.

Oh, that son of a bitch! I sit up, grab my pillow, and chuck it at him. “Orlando,” I screech, “that was rude!”

He knows I can’t stand it when he talks to me like this. It isn’t because I’m this snobby twit who thinks doing porn is beneath her. I just hate when he talks to me about body parts and sex. When it comes from his mouth, it sounds so damn good it makes me wet.

“I’m serious,” he says between laughs.

Two can play this game. “It feels fantastic. Nothing like being screwed while you’re dry. If only someone could take all the pain away with his mouth.”

He stops trying to block the pillow I keep swatting at him, and glares at me as if I have grown an extra head. I drop it and grin at him like a cheeky fool.

“Don’t worry, after I cut up some cucumbers and relax with them on my vagina, all will be gravy. It’ll take the swelling down.” I shrug to make my teasing funnier.

“Cucumbers,” he says in disbelief.

“Oh, yeah,” I say, but I can’t seem to hold a straight face.

“You shithead, stop fucking with me like that. I thought for sure my good girl was gone!”

My face contorts into a frown. “I’m not a good girl,” I say with a huff and climb out of bed. “You don’t know me like you used to, O, so stop, okay?”

I turn around before he sees the tears forming in my eyes. The bed squeaks, and I don’t have to look around to know that he’s getting up and stalking towards me. Orlando has never liked seeing me upset. What best friends do? He grabs my elbow and flings me around to face him, and he brings his hands up to cup my cheeks. I’m not a short girl, but he still towers over my 5’6’’ frame with his 6’3’’ height.

“I didn’t mean it like that, Bucket. Fuck.” He growls as he shoves me against the wall. “Stop crying,” he says in a husky whisper as his lips slam down on mine.

I’m frozen in place. Orlando has never once kissed me before, but he fights my stiffness and demands entrance into my mouth, so I comply and open. His tongue connects with mine, and I swear angels sing into my mouth. I’ve waited over twenty years to taste this man, and as our tongues tangle, his hand moves down to open my kimono and grabs one of my breasts. I snap out of it and shove him away as I struggle to catch my breath.