His Dark Secret - Part 1 (Erotic Romance Serial Novel) by Harriet Lovelace Read Free Book Online

an uncomfortable,
disgruntled pause on the other end of the line.
     
    “We did. But Mr. Rushmand
specifically asked that you be there today, Ms. Jane.”
     
    “Oh, okay. Studio B you said?”
     
    “At noon.”
     
    “Thank you. Goodbye.”
     
    I handed the phone to Jenny,
slumping back into the couch.
     
    “Who was that?”
     
    “The studio. Reminder of the shoot
today. And Scott, sorry, ‘Mr. Rushmand’ has specifically asked that I show up.”
     
    Jenny looked concern. “So, are you
going?”
     
    I rubbed my temples, trying to
clear my thoughts. I shook my head, not liking my conclusion.
     
    “I’ve got to go. I need the money
more than ever right now.”
     
    “What about the yogurt job? Seems
like more steady work to me. And you don’t have to face that guy.”
     
    I snorted. “They fired me. I
walked out in the middle of a shift and had at least two no call no shows.
Nope, I’ve got to go to the studio.”
     
    “Well just be careful, alright.
Don’t let them screw around with you.”
     
    “Exactly. Its just work. Just show
up, get it done, and go home. No fuss.”
     
    Unfortunately, I felt my bravery
give out as soon as I walked out the door. My whole commute, I felt like I was
heading straight to the chopping block. I was afraid of how the other actors
and crewmembers would treat me, look at me. I had this image in my head of myself
standing under the lights, half-naked in the slave girl outfit again. I’m
trying to do the scene, running through poses, serving guests, but off camera I
can see all these people staring at me, whispering to each other behind their
hands. But what scared me the most was how Scott might treat me. I was filled
with such dread I couldn’t even imagine the how the scene would play out.
     
    At the studio, I felt a small
surge of relief getting into costume. Today we’d be shooting the scenes where
Captain Malcolm meets with the Yusian resistance, which meant no slave girl
costume for myself. All of us were given alien fatigues, dappled brown and
green.  My costumer from before helped me, the middle-aged woman, either
out of ignorance or lack of care, making no mention of my recent scandal. We
chatted and joked as she fitted me into my get up: a black turtleneck covered
by a hooded poncho that belted at the waist, loose breeches that matched the
poncho, brown leather gloves and buckled up calf-high boots.
     
    After they applied makeup,
splotches of brown for dirt and streaks of black for war paint, I got a good
look of myself. Between the coarse cloth that kept the hair out of my eyes, the
makeup, the get-up; I looked the part of a true guerilla freedom fighter. I looked
hard, and it strengthened my outlook.
     
    Each of us was equipped with
props, an armory worth of guns, knives, swords, and sleek looking pieces of
“alien technology”. I was outfitted with a long rifle that slung across my back
and a foot long dagger that clipped to my belt. I pulled this out, surprised at
the weight of it; though dulled, it was real. Even more surprising, it was
intricately etched with swirls of silver inlay that caught the light nicely. I
had expected we’d be carrying around foam and wood mock-ups, but a lot of care
had gone into giving the props a feel of reality. Having another look at my
costume, I noticed the handiwork I had missed before, the effort that had been
put in to make it look homespun. Up to this point, when I had looked in the
mirror I had seen only me, but going back now I could see the character that
would be on the screen. I felt much more immersed as a part of the film now
than I had before.
     
    They corralled the extras
together, reminding us as we moved to the set that anyone seen playing around
with the weapons would have them taken away and most likely kicked off the set.
“What you’re holding is meant to look real and should be treated as such.” This
brought a series of murmurs and laughter from the extras, which was extinguished
by an