He drew her close against him and their mouths joined as his hands moved feverishly up and down her back. Abilene felt a solid thickness against her belly.
Breaking away from him, she lowered herself to the ground. She felt terribly exposed, lying there with her blouse open. As she raised her knees, her skirt slid down, baring her thighs.
Then Harris was on top of her, shielding her body from the camera and the watching eyes.
She wrapped her arms around him. She kissed him. She moaned as he squirmed, and sucked in a quick breath when he thrust as if entering her. He went motionless then, the same way he did when it was real and he wanted to do nothing for a few moments but savor the joining.
She could feel him pressed against her, only their underwear in the way.
He began to move up and down, going away and coming back, prodding her, rubbing her. She pushed up to meet his tlmists. She writhed and gasped.
Let’s not get carried away!
Isn’t supposed to be…
‘Looks to me like fornication in the park.’ Baxter’s voice. Words from the script.
Harris seemed to freeze on top of her. Then he twisted his head around. They both looked up at Baxter, who was standing near their feet, grinning down at them. One hand was out of sight behind his back.
‘Don’t you know it’s against the law?’ he asked. ‘Not to mention poor taste.’
‘We didn’t mean any harm,’ Harris said, sounding sheepish and scared.
‘What if some children had wandered by?’ Baxter asked.
‘I’m sorry,’ Abilene said. ‘We’ll leave.’
She relaxed her hold on Harris. As he rose to his hands and knees, she gave her skirt a quick tug to cover her thighs. She was closing her blouse when Baxter grabbed Harris by the hair and yanked his head back.
The look of pain that flashed through Harris’s eyes wasn’t fake.
‘Hey!’ she snapped. Not in the script.
Baxter’s other arm swept around. The knife slashed Harris’s throat, its hollow blade squirting out a bright red stripe.
‘Great!’ Finley blurted. ‘Fantastic!’
She lowered the camera. Baxter released Harris’s hair and stepped away. Harris, mbbing his scalp, gave the guy an annoyed glance. ‘You were a bit rough, don’t you think?’
‘Sorry about that, dude. Going for the realism.’
‘From now on,’ Abilene said, ‘take it easy. Are you okay?’ she asked Harris.
He nodded. As he got to his feet, Vivian came over and gave him a towel. He thanked her, and wiped the red fluid from his throat and chest.
‘Now for the fun part,’ Helen said, approaching with a paper cup full of the stuff.
Cora laughed. ‘I think they just finished the fun part.’
‘You’re right about that,’ Harris said. With a blush and a smile, he pulled his zipper up. He turned to Finley. ‘Are you sure it turned out all right? Maybe we need to do another take.’
‘Or several,’ Abilene added from the ground.
‘Hate to disappoint you,’ Finley said. ‘It was fabulous. Gonna look like you were really doing it.’
Almost felt that way, too, Abilene thought.
Smiling down at her, Vivian said, ‘You can always come back tonight and do a take without us.’
From the look that came into Harris’s eyes, Abilene knew he liked the idea. So did she.
‘Okay,’ Finley said. ‘Time for some wet work.’
Helen, the cup of stage blood in hand, knelt between Abilene’s legs and ducked low. Finley crouched behind her and aimed the camera at Abilene. The red light appeared.
‘Action.’
Helen hurled the fake blood. It splashed warm against Abilene’s face.
She was alone with Baxter. The blood felt like a sticky mask. Though it had dried somewhat during the hike back through the park, it still dribbled. It tickled her face and neck. It made her itch. She ached to rub it, but kept her hands away and reluctantly started to unbutton her blouse for the next scene.
Baxter looked. She pulled the blouse shut.
He didn’t say anything.
Just as well. She was still angry about the rough way he’d treated Harris.
They waited, watching the others walk toward the parking lot. A few cars had come along after their arrival earlier that morning, but none was parked very close to the one they intended to use for the upcoming scene. Shouldn’t be a problem.
Finley stopped beside it. The rest of the group stepped back to stay clear of the shot. Camera to her face, Finley wandered about as if trying to find just the right angle. Then she called, ‘Let’s go for it!’
‘Just take it easy,’ Abilene told Baxter.
‘No sweat.’
He ducked, shoved his shoulder into her belly and clamped an arm across the backs of her thighs. Below the hem of her skirt.
As he lifted her, she bowed forward. The shoulder pushed into her. She dropped against his back. Turning toward the parking lot, he began to trot. The rough motions bounced her. She felt as if her breath were being punched out with each of his strides.
She could see nothing but the back of his white T-shirt.
She could feel the heat of his body through it.
She wanted to brace herself up, at least enough to stop her breasts from pushing against him. But she was supposed to be limp. If she struggled, Finley might want to do the scene over again. So she let her arms hang and sway. She shut her eyes. She wished she’d never agreed to be part of all this.
Would’ve been fine if Tony’d played The Reaper. But this jerk!
He stopped abmptly and bent forward, throwing Abilene off his shoulder. She gasped as she fell. Her back slammed into a flat sheet of metal and she knew he had unloaded her onto the hood of Finley’s car.
He could’ve been more gentle about it!
But at least her head didn’t bang.
She heard quick footfalls on the pavement, rushing away from her.
Remembering the script, she opened her eyes. She saw the clear, pale sky. She raised her head. Her arms were outstretched across the hood, her blouse wide open, her legs hanging over the front of the car.
She heard a door swing open.
As she struggled to sit up, Baxter returned. He swung his fist down like a hammer.
Shit!
But he pulled the punch, surprising her. His hand smacked softly against her belly. She whooshed out her breath and bucked as if really hurt, then sagged on the hood, wheezing. Baxter gathered her arms in front of her waist. He snapped handcuffs around her wrists.
Then he pulled a rag from his pocket and wiped her face. ‘All pretty again,’ he said, smiling down at her. The cloth rubbed her neck and collar bones and the top of her left breast. She didn’t like being touched by him, but it felt good to have the itchy fluid removed.
Grabbing the front of her blouse, he dragged her off the hood. She was hardly able to stay on her feet as he rushed her alongside the car. He shoved her onto the passenger seat, picked up her legs and flung them in, then slammed the door.
He hurried around to the other side. He climbed in behind the wheel, started the engine, and shot the car backward. The tires squealed as he skidded into a tight turn. He sped toward the parking lot exit.
After a glance at the rearview mirror, he slowed the car. He turned it around and drove back to where the
