Complete Corruption (Corruption #1-3) by CD Reiss Read Free Book Online Page B

with a brush on my thigh, I felt his erection. Oh, to be anywhere else. To explore that rigid dick, to feel it in me while those lips hovered over mine. My legs could barely hold me up when he kissed my neck.
    “Wednesday,” he whispered, the warmth of his breath and timbre of his voice as arousing as the touch of his lips.
    “You don’t really care about the cars.”
    “No, I don’t.”
    “I’m not making it up. I told my friend I’d be on her set after work Wednesday. I can’t ditch her. Friday. We can do Friday.”
    “I accept the spirit of your agreement.”
    He reached behind me and turned the doorknob. I put my hair in place and thought cold thoughts. He left, and I watched him stride down the carpeted hall. I didn’t move until he was out the office door. I couldn’t believe he left it like that, without setting up a definite time and place for me to be flat on my back. I felt ill at ease as I scooped up the audit materials and headed back to my little window in my little office in my little corner of the Hollywood system.

ten.
    ou want to fuck her.”
    Michael nodded. He and Katrina sat on stools at the counter of a tiny coffee shop she’d rented for the scene with staff all around. I held my clipboard and waited, having been told to stay within Michael’s eyesight.
    “Right,” he said.
    “You know if you fuck her once, she’s yours.”
    This conversation happened as if no one was around. As if there weren’t three gaffers playing with the lights and keys with clothes hangers clipping wires and aligning scrims. As if the assistant camera person wasn’t holding up his little light meter to every color of everything and calling out numbers.
    “You have to fuck her,” Katrina said with real urgency. “You’re not getting it.”
    “I’m getting it.”
    Katrina hauled off and slapped Michael in the face. The sound echoed in the halls and rooms of my brain. I flinched and looked at them. I wasn’t supposed to. That was very personal actor/director business, and everyone else had the good sense to ignore it.
    Michael made eye contact with me as it happened.
    “That,” she said. “That feeling. Right now.”
    “I have it,” he said, putting his hand to his lips as if he wanted to hide his face.
    “Good. Get to makeup.” She winked at me as Michael strode off, then she called to the cameraman, “We’re shooting him from the right. Have the stand in mark it.” She walked off, barking more orders, and I marked the change in angle on my clipboard.
    We would be filming late, and I girded myself with coffee and the knowledge that helping Katrina, even in the tiny role as part-time script supervisor, would right a great wrong that had been done her.
    Michael played the scene, which did not include the woman in question, but her best friend. His character was about to bed her out of spite, like a man on a mission to save his testicles. He was riveting. He seized the scene, the set, the crew, and the mousy character who had no idea what she was getting embroiled in. He put his hands up her skirt as if he owned what was under it, but his character didn’t take an ounce of responsibility for what he was doing.
    “Cut!” shouted Katrina.
    I noted the shot and take, but only after the scene was fully broken. “There’s your Oscar,” I mumbled to Katrina.
    “I just want someone to touch this thing with a ten-footer.” She took my clipboard and flipped through the pages on it. “We never got that last line on page thirty. I think we can ADR it.”
    “I think WDE will get behind you. Honestly. As long as you promise not to sue anyone again.”
    She made a pfft sound that promised nothing. “Dinner break, everyone!”
    A production assistant ran up to me as I tucked my papers away. “There’s a man here asking for you.”
    It took me about half a second to figure out who he was. “Dark hair and brown eyes?”
    “Yeah. He brought dinner.”
    “Of course he brought me dinner.” I had to