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To Harper’s credit, he really didn’t do that. In fact, he went out of his way to give the director and choreographer exactly what they wanted. He reminded me of a big puppy who happily performed his trick on command, in the hope of receiving a few words of praise. I watched as he jogged center-stage while singing his line, then caught a bouquet of flowers which were tossed to him by a production assistant. He delivered a punchline and smiled into the camera, then handed the flowers to the next performer and moved stage left.
When the director paused the rehearsal for a moment, Harper turned in my direction and squinted. I didn’t think he could see past the stage lights, but a big smile lit his face, and he waved. I turned around in my seat to see who’d caught his attention and realized I was the only person sitting in this section. I turned to face him again, and he grinned and rolled his eyes. Well, how was I supposed to know that was directed at me?
They managed to get through the musical number one and a half times before the director called a fifteen minute break. Harper jogged over to me, and as I handed him the bottle of water he asked, “What did you think?”
“You’re the best one by far, and half those people have no business singing.”
He chuckled at that, then took a long drink of water before dropping into the seat beside me. “I’d ask if you’re being honest, but screw that. I really need a yes-man right now, since I don’t have a lot of confidence in my singing.”
“You sounded great. No joke.”
“Thank you.” He leaned in and lowered his voice as he asked, “Did you see the prop closet on your way into the studio?”
“No. Were you actually serious about that?”
“God yes. We should have a window of opportunity between rehearsal and taping, even though the two missing actors are throwing a wrench in the schedule.”
I whispered, “Fuck, I’m getting hard again. I feel like I’m back in high school.”
“You used to sneak around and have semi-public sex as a teen?”
“Hell no. I was just horny twenty-four-seven.”
“I wish we had time to visit the prop closet right now.”
I glanced at his profile and said, “You know, even though I’m willing to sleep with you again, I didn’t actually think I was signing on for a never-ending sex fest.”
He grinned and turned to look at me. “But it’s awesome, isn’t it? All I can think about is the next time I get to tear your clothes off and listen to those wonderful little sounds you make when you’re trying and totally failing to be quiet.”
“I make sounds?” When he nodded, I asked, “What kind?”
“The softest, sexiest little moans and whimpers. They just kill me.”
He leaned in and licked my neck, and even though no one was paying attention to us, I leapt up like I’d just been electrocuted. “This isn’t the time or place, Harper.”
“I know, but you’re just so tempting.” He got up too and asked, “While I’m thinking about it, are you okay with always bottoming? I’m just a top, and I hope that isn’t a problem.”
It was the one time I actually loved giving up control, so I told him, “No, that’s perfect.” I tried to be subtle about adjusting the bulge in my jeans as I said, “I’m going to go and try to calm the hell down. You stay here and do the same thing.”
He looked concerned. “You’re not going back to the hotel, are you?”
“No. I’m just going outside for some fresh air.”
Harper perked up again and said, “Okay. I’ll text you when rehearsal is over and it’s time for our prop closet rendezvous.”
I nodded and hurried out of the studio. On the way, I passed the two missing celebrities, who’d just arrived with their entourage. I ducked into Harper’s dressing room and donned a pair of sunglasses and a baseball cap, and then I slipped out a side exit and made my way from the alley out to the street.
When I spotted a drugstore on the corner, it occurred to me I really should do some prep before my rendezvous with Harper. I hurried into the Walgreens and filled a shopping basket with a pack of condoms, some lube, and a disposable enema kit. Oh yeah, nothing embarrassing about that. I added a candy bar to the basket to act as a decoy, as if that was the real reason for my shopping trip, and not the fact that I was clearly about to partake in some nice, sweaty butt sex.
I got in line for the register, and a few moments later, an older woman with a stack of New York postcards lined up behind me. She kept leaning over to get a look at me, and when I reached the cashier she finally asked, “Aren’t you Dallas Jaymes?”
