Gentlemen Prefer Succubi

“Your costar’s in his dressing room. I’ll get him if you like, and we can begin whenever.” He turned toward me and gave a low whistle of appreciation. “Who’s your friend? Redheads are in right now.”

Flattered, I gave him a faint smile and looked to Remy. She beamed and looped her arm through his, grinning. “This is my friend Jackie. She’s a museum dough-spend.”

“Docent,” I corrected, offering James my hand, smiling graciously. “At least, if I still have my job.”

“They’d be fools to fire you,” he whispered against my hand, raising it to kiss. “Let me know if you’d ever like a job in the industry.”

“The industry?”

Remy shook her head at me. “Trust me when I say I don’t think it’d be your thing.”

At first I bristled, but James’s attention was definitely riveted on particular parts of my appendage. I extracted my hand from his. “I’ll think about it,” I lied.

Remy flashed me a smile and bounded away, bright blue eyes gleaming. “I’ve got to change into wardrobe. Have a seat; hopefully, this won’t take too long.”

I sat in the director’s chair I’d been pointed to at the edge of the set. “How much time are we talking?”

“An hour or two. We just have to reshoot this one scene.”

A male assistant came up to me and held out a tray of snacks and a variety of bottled waters, which improved my mood. “Fine,” I said, picking up a finger sandwich or five. “I promise I’ll be good while you’re gone.”

She trotted to the far end of the bustling studio and disappeared into a room with a star on the door, which I assumed was her dressing room. Cool. Her own dressing room. Maybe I should take her boss up on his job offer, since I was about to be unemployed. Being famous would be neat.

“So Remy’s a big star, huh?” I glanced over at the assistant still holding the tray for me and took a cookie off his hands.

“Miss Summore is our biggest draw,” he gushed, smiling down at me.

Or rather, smiling down at my boobs. I resisted the urge to zip my top up higher. “Great,” I said, turning my attention to the stage. “So what are we filming here? Commercials? Soaps? It’d be really cool if Remy was a soap star.”

A strangled look crossed his face. “Soaps …?”

He was saved from answering me as Remy entered the small stage flooded with lights. She sat on the edge of the bed in a filmy night robe-part of her costume, I guessed-and her blue eyes shone like beacons.

“Is Braddock behind the door?” the director boomed into his megaphone, and I watched all cameras position themselves on Remy’s lovely face.

Someone gave the thumbs up, and the director nodded. “Action, then.”

I leaned forward, nibbling on my sandwich. “How awesome is it to see a movie made from the front row?” I glanced over to the assistant, whose eyes were glued on the stage, and I turned my attention back there as well.

And nearly choked on my sandwich. Braddock had entered the room all right, naked as a jaybird. Remy was disrobing as well, and she had nothing on but a black garter belt and some stockings, and the highest spiked platform heels I’d ever seen.

Before I could spit out the piece of lettuce that was clogging my throat, they set upon each other like rabid wombats in mating season. And then I just couldn’t look away. Her tongue was all over his face, and then she was throwing him down on the bed and making a beeline for what had to be the biggest schlong I’d ever seen.

“Um,” I managed, covering my eyes. “Is she doing what I think she is?”

The sounds of slurping and moaning echoed through the microphones on the set. “Oh yeah,” the assistant breathed, his eyes riveted to the bed.

“Are they … supposed to be doing that?” I mean, Remy’s eyes were blazing. Maybe her hormones went out of control and she was just nailing the first guy she’d run across.

The assistant looked at me in surprise. “Miss Summore is a huge adult film star, didn’t you know?”

Aww hell. I’d probably seen her on cable the other night and not even realized it. That was why she looked so familiar. It would also explain the money, and how she managed to control her Itch.

It also explained the smarmy director, who’d given me a few creepy looks. I shuddered at the thought.

A low groan caught my ears and I couldn’t help looking over at the bed again. Remy was locked onto the actor in a position I’d heard referred to as “reverse cowboy.” She had her head thrown back, her black hair rippling down her back as she cried out in ecstasy. I wasn’t sure if it was real or fake, but it was sending aftershocks directly to my groin. As I watched, she licked her fingertips and slid them down her body to finger herself. My body responded to the blatantly sensual move with a jolt, and I shifted in my seat, trying to accommodate the sudden throb of desire.

I hated being a succubus.

On a hunch, I jerked out my makeup compact and took a look at my eyes. Sure enough, they were brightening with every moment I spent watching Remy have wild porn-film sex like some horny voyeur.

That thought was a little too close to the mark.

When Remy cried out again and he grabbed her long hair, arching her backward over his body, my breath caught in my throat. I had to get out of here, or I was going to end up joining them on the bed.

I stood up abruptly and handed my sandwiches to the assistant. “I’m going to Remy’s dressing room.”

“Whatever,” he breathed, eyes focused on the bed.

I bolted for the dressing room and slammed the door shut behind me, breathing hard as I leaned against it. My skin felt dewy with sweat and I fanned myself frantically, my pulse pounding in my ears. To think that my body could betray me so easily was appalling. I staggered into the room and my hand hit something soft on the table-a dildo the size of Manhattan.

Horrified, I stepped backward and took a good look around me. Remy’s room was like something out of, well, a bad porno. Posters of close-up shots of Remy’s face licking all kinds of anatomy adorned the walls, and there was a large bed with silk sheets in the center of the room. Mirrors covered the ceiling. Sex toys of all imaginable types were lined up on every inch of counter space, and her open closet door, revealed a ton of lingerie and spiked shoes. The dildo stared at me from across the table, along with a few other pieces of equipment that I did not want to guess the purpose of.

So much for a safe haven. I flew right back out and heard Remy’s cries of “Oh yeah, baby, do me just like that!” and “Harder!” echoing in the room.

I had to get out of here.

I bolted out the first door I found, ignoring the buzzer that went off as I escaped through the emergency exit into the alley. I stumbled over to the main street, where I allowed the pedestrian traffic to swallow me. My brain was throbbing, my loins were throbbing, and all I could think was that I’d rather flip burgers for the next millennia than end up astride some guy for money like Remy.

I headed across the street to a small chapel that was sure to be deserted this early in the morning. Alone time was just what I needed.

The peace of the tiny church washed over me as soon as I stepped through the doorway, and I hesitated in the aisle. I felt like a hooker at a church social. I didn’t belong here anymore, did I? Forcing those thoughts out of my mind, I moved to the back row of pews to sit down and focus my thoughts.

No sooner had I sat down than I felt a hand on my arm. Startled, I jerked away, only to find myself staring at the most singularly beautiful man I had ever seen. White-blond curls framed his pale face, and the biggest pair of dark blue eyes stared back at me. A faint smile touched his lips. He was dressed in flowing white robes, with a white fur cape tossed over his back.

Frightened at his sudden appearance, I jumped out of my seat, clutching my handbag. “You can’t sit here. That seat’s taken.”

“It is a sin to lie in church, Jacqueline.” He gave me a soft smile.