Page 46 of Stroked by (Stroked)
“Why have you been ignoring me?” My voice is heavy, raspy even, as I’m almost frantic to talk to her.
She scans our surroundings and steps a little closer so our conversation is more private, more intimate. I can get on board with this proximity. “Reese, I’m your employee and you’re in a relationship—”
“Fake relationship.”
“Whatever you want to call it. We need to keep this strictly professional.”
Frustrated, I try not to show my irritation with her when I say, “Can I ask you one thing?”
“As long as it’s not out to dinner or to go on some date.”
I ignore her smart-ass comment. “Do you want me?”
“What?” Her eyes shoot wide and her entire body becomes fidgety with nerves. “Why would you ask that?”
Softly, yet roughly I say, “Because I can see it in your eyes, the way you look at me, the way your body reacts to mine when I’m near you. You’re nervous, you’re yearning, you’re desperate for me to touch you. It’s written all over your face. I just want you to fucking admit it.”
“You’re wrong.” Her voice shakes, confirming my exact thoughts.
“Reese, we’re ready for you,” the photographer calls out.
I wink at her and start walking backward. “Believe what you want, Paisley. You can only deny it for so long.”
Turning on a dime, I meet the photographer at the set where Hollis is begging for one more pose. “I really think you need a picture of me doing my ‘come hither’ face. I will guarantee a million copies sold if you put that look on your front cover.”
I grip Hollis’s shoulder and speak to the photographer. “Don’t listen to him. He’s been selling that look for years now, all it does it scare people away and turn nipples inside out with displeasure.”
“Dude, you’re supposed to have my back,” Hollis replies, laughter in his voice.
“You know I do, but I also care about the American people. Do not force them to see your stupid mug trying to pull off some Zoolander look. It’s not good for country morale.”
Sighing, Hollis says, “Fine, pick the picture displaying my massive twig and berries.”
“You realize that’s a contradiction, right?” I ask. “If it was massive, you should have said canon and bowling balls. You’re not fooling anyone.”
“Damn, man.” Hollis scoots away from me. “What’s crawled up your dick hole today? Get some ass, you’re all clogged up. Your inner bitch comes out when you haven’t had your vein drained in a while.” I cringe, such a gross term. Hollis points to the photographer as he walks away. “Just so you know, I have a huge dick, massive. That’s on the record, you may use it wherever you want. Peace out, King.” He throws deuces in the air and walks away.
Hollis and I have been friends for many years. Even though he’s on the diving team, we’ve leaned on each other during our time in the Olympics. When he was flipping his way to gold, I was stroking my way to silver. The Olympics wouldn’t be the same without him. I’m just hoping I have one more chance to share the experience with him.
Who fucking knows at this point, though? I’ve been swimming like shit and can’t seem to get my mind off the small ebony-haired fireball a few short feet away.
“Reese, we are going to have you pose in front of the white screen. Are you comfortable with what you’re wearing?”
I glance down at my American flag Speedo and nod. “Yup, It’s not like it would be the first time I have my picture taken in a scrap of fabric. As long as you are good with this.”
“Works for us.”
“Do I need to style up the mop?”
“You just need a spray down. Let me find someone to help—”
“Don’t worry about that, I have someone more than happy to assist.” I call out over the crew. “Paisley, could you grab the spray bottle and come here?”
She looks up from her phone, points at her chest a little shocked. I nod my head and quirk my finger at her, indicating for her to come quickly. Looking around frantically, she finds the squirt bottle and walks up to me. Confusion is in her eyes.
“What are you doing?” she asks between clenched teeth, a fake smile plastered on her face.
“I need my assistant to squirt me with water and fix my hair.”
