The Dalton look-alike was going to pose in the images with me, and then the real one would come join us at the end. As we talked a bit more, I found out that Charlie (that was his name) wasn’t there just for the shoot, but also had a small role in the movie, as Dalton’s character’s brother.
The shoot itself was about as strange as you’d expect. They brought in some bales of hay for us to sit on, and Charlie and I sort of danced* while the Bushy Beaver Tails actually played music, and then we all acted terrified when a trio of people in teddy-bear suits interrupted our party.
*Charlie was a fine dancer, whereas I merely pretended to dance while trying not to look down and get a bunch of chins.
The photographer said nothing directly to me, but whispered to her three assistants, who then directed me.
And how did I enjoy my first major magazine photo shoot? I hated/loved every minute. It was the worst/greatest thing, ever. I felt hideous/gorgeous and the work itself was easier than selling books.
The time whizzed by, and I did a quick wardrobe change into a puffy white blouse and my own jean shorts for the next series. Charlie disappeared, and my guy strolled onto the photo set on the lawn of the log cabin, looking every bit the star. He wore an expensive-looking suit with a tie the same color as his gorgeous green eyes.
The next part was the most challenging: we had to pose like we were about to kiss, without actually kissing. Having Dalton’s lips just out of reach was tantalizing torture. He dialed up the pain by eye-fucking me the entire time. I nearly died.
And then, it was done.
Well, first there was a tedious amount of hand-shaking and release-papers-signing, but eventually it was done. The sun disappeared behind the rolling hills, and that was the end of our light. The silent photographer and her three assistants disappeared in a helicopter, and everyone else drove off.
Dalton and I lingered behind to pet the horses, and before long, we were alone.
The horses eventually got bored of us, deciding we had no sugar cubes, and wandered off into the dusky night.
Vern had gone to wait for us in the car, where Dalton assured me he was taking a nap.
“Should we go somewhere?” I asked. “Back to your trailer? We’re not allowed to hang out here with nobody around, are we?”
He laughed. “We’re not trespassing. Help me block out a scene, will you?”
I didn’t know what that meant, but I followed him back to the smaller log cabin, the dark sky cozy around us. Back in the main building, the large one behind us, lights were on and the windows showed human activity. Most of the production crew were staying there, with the family who owned the ranch. There was a personal connection between some of the crew and the ranch owners—a connection I didn’t care about, because Dalton had my hand in his, and that was everything.
Oh, I nodded politely as he told me about the budget overruns, and how today’s photo shoot was saving their bacon because they had no promotion money, but his gorgeous body paired with my freak-girl lust was stealing my attention. Was it the suit and tie? Fuck me. I couldn’t wait to get him back to my place, or even to his ridiculous Airstream trailer.
I was quite surprised when he led me into the log cabin, then to a small room, where he started kissing my neck like he meant business. We were in a room full of cameras, with a bed in one corner.
“What are you doing?” I moaned as his lips traveled up and down the side of my neck.
“Blocking out a scene.” He reached for my layers of tops and lifted them up. My hair was still in braids, but I’d changed back into the green lace top I’d arrived there in, what seemed like days earlier but was in fact only hours.
Down to just my bra on top, I shivered in the cool evening air. The room was lit by just one table lamp, next to the bed, and the house was eerily silent.
“You cold?” he asked. “I’ll warm you up.” He rubbed his palms together, the sound like fine sandpaper, then rubbed his hot palms up and down the outer edges of my arms.
With a nudge, I was backing up, stopping only when the backs of my legs touched the bed.
I whispered, “We can’t mess up the film set.”
“A bed can be re-made.” He reached for my jean shorts and deftly unfastened the button and zipper. The denim hit the floor, the sound resonating through the empty cabin. Dalton’s eyebrows shot up. “Uh-oh.”
I glanced over his shoulder, at all the cameras and equipment, staring at us with their dark eyes. All the power was off, but the devices were still menacing. Watchful.
“We could go to your trailer,” I said, my voice hopeful.
A shadow passed over his green eyes, already dark and mysterious in the low light of the room. “I can’t wait that long.”
“Mr. Impatient.”
“Undress me.” He stood absolutely still before me.
Okay.
I reached under the suit jacket, finding his heat trapped beneath the fine wool and silky lining. Slowly, I removed the jacket and lay it on the bed behind where I stood. The tie came off next, and I got flustered because of how he was staring at me. I lay the green tie on the bed next to the jacket.
Next, I unbuttoned his shirt, slowly revealing his perfect body. I pulled the fabric away and then draped it gently on the bed as well.
“Should I put your clothes somewhere other than the bed?” I asked.
“That’s fine.”
What did he mean? It was fine that we’d be rolling around on the clothes, or that we weren’t going to be using the bed, or what?
“Keep going,” he said.
Silently, obediently, I started unbuttoning his trousers.
“On your knees,” he said.
I thought about it for a moment, then got down on the wood floor, on my knees. His c**k was already thick and hard for me as I eased down his trousers and boxers. A bead of dew awaited me on the tip.
Slowly, enjoying the torture of drawing it out, I draped the remaining clothes on the bed.
He didn’t say a word, and his mouth didn’t twitch with any expression.
I could smell the musky scent of his pubic hair, his smell intoxicating. He was rigid and pointing at my lips, the bead gleaming.
Leaning forward, I took him into my eager mouth, relishing the slightly bitter tang of his fluid, followed by the earthy, saltiness of his cock.
“There’s my girl,” he murmured, and he buried his fingers in my hair as I took him deep in my mouth. He didn’t push my head, but encouraged me to bob faster, then slower.
He groaned as I sucked his gorgeous cock. I reached up with one hand to grasp the base with gentle pressure, then using my other hand to give feathery strokes to his balls. I could hear the lip-smacking sounds of my mouth on his flesh, and the noises only turned me on more.