C Reiss - Spin

“While I’m telling lies about you?” He dropped his clothes and pulled the jacket from me.

“Tell me the lies. For practice.”

He kissed my cheek. “I will tell them I fucked her once, and she got attached. But she knows the DA and will cause us trouble if she’s hurt. I’ll say I don’t trust her. She means nothing to me.”

“Like you said about Marina?”

“It was the truth about her.” He pushed me onto the bed. “About you, I’ll lie. Say you’re not the most beautiful woman I’ve met. You’re not sexy. You’re cold, unpleasant. Nothing a man would want to keep.”

I touched his face, his lips, his stubble, his insane lashes. “What would it be like to be your girlfriend?”

He kissed my cheek and jaw. “We’d be friends first. And no touching.”

“No touching?”

“No kissing, no touching.”

“That wouldn’t work.”

He kissed my chest and breasts gently, little flicks of his tongue on my nipples. “You’d live with your parents, and I would come to visit you. We would sit and talk in the garden. Your mother would cook for me, and I would sit at the table with your family.” He moved down to my belly, exploring every inch of it. “I would see you at church. Other men would talk to you, and I’d chase them away. Your father would hate me for a while. Then he would approve. I might touch your hand when no one is looking.”

He got up on his knees and opened my legs. “I would fuck other women and you’d understand, because we hadn’t even kissed.” He brushed his lips inside my knee. “Then I’d ask your father for your hand, and when he said yes, I stop fucking other women.” He ran his tongue inside my thigh. “You’d plan the wedding, and I’d work. I’d build myself. Being young and blind, I wouldn’t see that you’re now a target for my enemies.”

He kissed my pussy gently. “You’d cry on our wedding night and call me a brute.” His tongue flicked my clit. “You’d tell your mother I’m an animal. I’d promise to never fuck you like that again. I’d promise to be tender always.” His tongue ran the length of my lips, circling the clit twice, then back to my opening. “It wouldn’t matter. You’d be part of my life. My world. You’d get hard and cunning to survive, or you’d stay gentle and die.”

“Antonio,” I whispered, “can you do it like that? Can you do it gentle?”

He crawled up until we were face to face. “Come vuoi tu.”

I pushed against him, feeling his hard cock on my pussy. My ass was sore, but I wanted him again already. He guided himself in, and I took him slowly, his shaft angled to rub against my clit.

“Oh, that’s nice.” I groaned.

He rocked against me, pushing all the way in. “You’re so sexy. I love watching you walk, how your body moves under your clothes. How beautiful. How straight you are for the world, and how you bend and cry for me. I want to go so deep in you we have the same thoughts.”

His eyes were unguarded, open, warm for me. The swelling in my pussy blossomed as I looked into his face. The sight and feeling mixed, becoming a swirl of emotion and sensation. We moved so slowly together that I felt everything, every inch of skin touching, every firing sliver of pleasure.

“I’m close, Contessa.”

“Can you come with me?”

His face contorted with effort. “Soon. I’m trying to stay slow.”

“You’re amazing, Antonio. Amazing.”

The last word barely made it out of my mouth as I was overcome with electricity. He jerked, slammed into me, and I cried out. He’d put me over the edge. I clawed his back as he jerked and thrust, growling my name. I spread my legs farther, feeling him against and inside me. We came as a crawling, rolling, single creature, as if we were having one orgasm. Even afterward, our breathing was the same and our hearts beat in time.

“I need to see you again soon,” he said into my cheek.

“You’ll come secretly in the night.”

“Yes. I will. Be ready.”

Downstairs, the door opened and banged shut.

“Maybe not so secretly,” I said.

“Ah, this is the director?”

“Yeah.”

“Is there another way out?”

“No,” I said. “But I trust her.”

He got up. “Good for you.”

We went downstairs together, dressed and clean, to find Katrina standing in front of the television with a quart of salty vanilla ice cream and a spoon.

“You’re up early,” she called over her shoulder. “Did I wake… Oh, hello,” she said when she turned. “Nice to see you again, Mister Spin.”

“Katrina, you’re up late. Or early, perhaps?”

She put her ice cream down and jammed the spoon into it. “Because I’m amazing!” She threw her arms up like a cheerleader.

“Oh dear, what now?” I crossed my arms.

“I got post-production financing!”

“Oh my god! How? Who? What?”

She said the next part so cheerfully, as if painting on a cartoon face. “Scott Mabat.” She did a little jazz hands shake.

“What?” I yelled.

“Gesu Cristo!” Antonio exclaimed.

Her knees bent, and her hands went from jazz to stop. “I have a plan.”

“This better be good, Directrix.”

“I take the money, start post, and get fresh financing from this German investor who’s been sniffing around. I can keep the energy up, then just pay him off when the German money comes in.”

“That guy”—Antonio pointed—“is a lowlife. Okay? He is worthless shit, and he’s sick in the head. How much did you get from him?”

“Hundred thou,” she said.

Antonio and I groaned.

“That’s what it costs to finish a movie, guys. And that’s cheap. I’m sorry but these are realities.”

“Screw the Germans,” I said. “I’m giving you the money.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am. I’ll pay the note, and you’ll be done with it.” I turned to walk Antonio out. “Come on, I’ll finish with her.”

“Hey, Spin,” called Katrina as I opened the door. “You should come to the wrap party Saturday night. Strong chance of epic.”

“I’ll think about it,” he said.

I pushed him outside and closed the door behind us. The stars were drowned out by the light of Los Angeles.

“You’re coming up with that kind of money?” he asked.

“Yes. My family is well-off. I have a trust, and I can use it for whatever I want.”

He put his fingers on my chin. “I know all about your family. If Scott wants cash, you do not transport it by yourself. And you are not to see him without me. No negotiating.”

“We’re supposed to be a secret.”

“Call him, don’t see him. I’m serious. You don’t know what you’re exposing yourself to.”

I put my hands on his chest. He’d left his jacket upstairs for me, and I felt his muscles through the shirt. “I’ll stay away from all the loan sharks in Los Angeles.”

“Please. I ask only this, please.”

“How are you getting home? You came in my car.”

“Don’t worry about me.”

I pulled away a little, so I could see the entirety of his face. “Don’t feel pressured to answer this question.”

“I won’t.”

“Did she stay gentle? Or did she become cunning and hard?”

“She stayed gentle.”

I didn’t feel right pressing him further. We kissed again, and I let him go.

 A movie opening with Daniel seemed like the easiest, most convenient way to make sure Antonio and I didn’t look attached. If he needed us to be a secret as long as possible, a few public sightings with Daniel Brower would do the trick.

—I’m going to a movie with Daniel—

He didn’t return the text. I thought nothing of it. We were in stealth mode after all.

Big Girls was a huge, star-studded drama about a hot-button issue. The script was built for award-winning performances, and the director had a long career of pushing talent to the limit. So even without any car chases, explosions, aliens, terrorists, or trips to outer space, the film had been declared one for the historical lexicon.

I’d noticed the bald man outside the morning after Antonio left, and again when I’d gotten home from set. I saw him through the window, sometimes smoking or poking at his phone. I’d gotten close to him once, just long enough to confirm I didn’t know him and the walking-through-dirt scent of Turkish cigarettes emanated from him. I didn’t mention him to Gerry when I confirmed I’d go to the movie with Daniel or when I met my ex outside the limo door.

I’d ended up agreeing to everything just for the sake of convenience. Even uptight, rich bitches had to deal with parking woes in Hollywood that were ameliorated with a limo.

“You look stunning.”

“No flattery tonight, Dan. I’m just here to keep you from biting your nails.”

He smiled and stopped me before I got in. “There are four guys in there. One is a bodyguard. The other three are going to talk my ear off about the press conference tomorrow.”

“That’s fine.”

“I brought you this.” He out held his hand. In his palm sat my engagement ring. I’d thrown it at him, huge stone and all.

Daniel had scrupulously saved to get me a ring that wouldn’t embarrass him in front of my wealthy family. It hadn’t mattered to me, but it mattered to him. He took me up to the Griffith Observatory on a night when Saturn was close and bright. He helped me onto the apple box as the astronomer showed me how to look into the telescope. There, with Saturn’s rings as close and tangible as they’d ever be, he slipped the ring on my finger and said, “This ring around our world, Tink.”

I picked up the ring. Did he say that? Or did he say, my world? Did it matter?