DREW AND KIERA’S LOVE SCENE

From Absolutely Famous

You never got to see what happened when Drew had to get down and dirty with the conniving Kiera… well, here it is.

Drew’s POV

I can’t help but smile as I get into my wardrobe for today’s shoot. After sparring with Damien and then mind-blowing sex with Sydney, I decided to forgo a shower this morning before heading to the studio. Serves that bitch Kiera Radcliff right if I reek like sex and sweat and filthy sparring pads. I know she’s the one that’s been pushing the studio to put a fake relationship with her into my publicity contract.

No fucking way will that ever happen.

Besides the fact that I love Sydney and would never do that to her, even if it’s pretend, but the fact that it’s Kiera, she’s just not right in the head. I can’t put my finger on it exactly, but there’s something off about her. It’s nothing obvious, but she makes me incredibly uncomfortable. Plus, she fucked with Sydney at her big club opening in March. That alone makes it almost unbearable to work with her.

There’s a knock on my dressing room door and Jane pokes her head in. “Just about ready?” she asks.

I lift my hand to drag it through my hair and remember that it’s already been styled, so I drop it back into my lap uselessly. “No.” I say. “Shit. I don’t want to do this,” I admit to Jane.

She shuffles in and closes the door behind her. Dropping onto the couch next to me, Jane rubs my back with her hand. “Nervous?”

“Ha!” I laugh sarcastically, “Hardly. I just…” I let out a huge breath, “I just don’t want to do this. The thought of having to touch her,” I shudder. “She freaks me out.”

“Well, it is your job,” Jane says matter of factly. “And,” she leans in and sniffs, making a face as she does, “she probably won’t want to be anywhere near you. You stink.”

Grinning, I look Jane in the eye and wink, “That’s the point.”

She laughs with me and it gives me just enough strength to leave my dressing room and head for the set.

By the time I get to the makeshift bedroom and lay eyes on the rumpled bed where I’m supposed to ‘make love’ to Kiera’s character, I feel nauseous. I wipe my palms on my pants, hoping the sweat doesn’t leave stains on the fabric. Wardrobe will kill me if I mess them up before we’ve even started filming.

Shit, I wish I could see Sydney right now. I wanted her here with me, but that was so selfish I couldn’t ask her to do it. If I had to watch her with another guy, fuck, I’d lose my mind.

A hand grips my arm and I flinch, twisting around to see who’s touching me. “Kiera,” I say coldly. I’ve told her dozens of times that I don’t like to be touched, yet she continues to ignore me, forcing herself into my personal space again and again. Her advances are really pissing me off.

I reach down and remove her hand from my arm, dropping it back by her side. She sneers in anger for a fleeting moment, and then her phony smile is back in place.

“Andrew, if you can’t let me touch you, how are we going to get through this scene?” she purrs.

Alcohol? That’s what I want to say, but don’t. I have to do my best to be professional, well, except for stinking to high hell today.

“That’s for work, Kiera. You know I don’t like to be randomly touched,” I tell her, clenching my teeth together in annoyance.

“By fans, Andrew. I thought it was just fans touching you that bothers you.” She flutters her eyelashes, thinking that would change my mind somehow.

“No Kiera, by anyone who doesn’t have permission by me.” I give her a stern look and leave before I say something stupid. “Dan! What’s the schedule? Are we starting soon or what?” I call out to the director.

“Yes, get ready okay? It should only be another five,” he says, adjusting something on his screen and chatting with the assistant director.

I unbutton the shirt that I threw on, and toss it out of sight. I’m only wearing tan pants and the ridiculously uncomfortable modesty patch, aka ‘cock sock’, underneath.

“Clear the set! Places!” the AD calls out. I crack my neck and pull on my Andrew Forrester mask. I can’t let the entire crew see how miserable the thought of touching Kiera makes me.

I walk over to the side of the bed and wait while most of the crew vacates the set, reviewing in my head the shots we have to get and the lines I have to say.

Kiera saunters up next to me, having shed her robe, she’s now wearing only a tiny satin nightie. The crew turns down the air-conditioning on love scene days since it gets so hot under the lights, so I can clearly see that she isn’t wearing her pasties.

Jesus, it never ends with this psycho.

“Dan!” I call out, waving the director over.

He hustles to us, not wanting to waste time, but knowing that my happiness today is paramount to getting his shots in without delay.

“Yes Andrew?” he asks, giving me a placating smile that makes me want to punch him.

I stab my thumb at Kiera, refusing to look at her. “She’s not in full wardrobe. There are no nude breast shots, so why aren’t her patches on? Is this not a professional movie set?”

Dan’s mouth drops open and his eyes flick over to Kiera’s chest. Her obviously protruding nipples prove my point to the director. “Ummmm, uh, Kiera, you can’t expect us to… ummmm.”

Fuck professionalism.

“Jesus Dan, I’ll say it.” I spin to face Kiera, getting more pissed off by the minute. “Go back to your dressing room and get wardrobe to put your Goddamn pasties on, Kiera. This isn’t a porno and I’m not in the mood for your bullshit,” I hiss.

She gives me a knowing smile, her mouth pulling up on one side, as if mocking me. “Dan, remember? I’m allergic to adhesive. It’s in my contract.” Kiera looks at me, satisfaction clearly written on her smug face.

If my face is as red as I think it is, it’ll be another hour before I calm down enough to appear on camera. “You manipulative bitch,” I begin, curling my hands into fists at my sides.

Dan steps between us and pushes me back with his hand on my chest. “Andrew, she’s right. It’s in her contract.”

“And no one thought I needed to be aware of that?” I yell, not caring who hears me at this point. He shrugs, it’s not his problem that I don’t like it and he knows it. I’m trapped, everyone is here waiting and me not wanting to be in contact with a beautiful woman’s tits isn’t going to be a good enough excuse to hold up production.

“Fuck!” I shout, spinning away from Kiera to collect myself.

Dan comes up behind me and pats my back. “Dude, it’s going to be fine. They’re just breasts, right? And by the way, you need a fucking shower, you reek.”

He jogs back to his place behind the screens and cameras. “Places!” he calls out.

Turning back to face Kiera, I give her my own wicked smile. “Ready to get up close and personal with Andrew Forrester?” I ask her. I jump in place a little, then drop to the floor and do twenty push-ups to work up a nice sheen of sweat. I can really smell myself now… and it’s not pretty.

I edge up to Kiera’s side and angle my body so she’s nice and close to my underarms, where it’s the worst. I can tell the second it hits her. Her nose wrinkles in disgust and she takes a step back.

Leaning down, I whisper in her ear, “You’re not the only one with tricks up your sleeve, Kiera. Enjoy.”

The face she makes it all worth it.