Buy Links:
Excerpt: The Body Double
Erotic Romance
Two hot contemporary romances make up this volume of the TORRID TEASERS short
stories series from Whiskey Creek Press Torrid. "THE GROUPIE"--Mandy Evans wakes up
one morning expecting 'just another day'. When she wins tickets to see her idol, country
music star Thad Curtis, in concert, will she be able to turn his head? And if she does, then
what? "THE BODY DOUBLE"--At eighteen Delilah found her soulmate in Robby Graham.
But her ambitions took her from him. Coming home to Tennessee after a five year stint as
a body double in Hollywood can really break a girl down. Will she be able to fight her
unfulfilled dreams of stardom and reconnect with an incomparable love?
“Cut.”
Thank God, Delilah James thought as she pushed the godlike actor off and reached for her robe. Pulling the terry cloth over her shoulders, she covered her nudity. It never ceased to amaze her how these guys could turn a love scene into a dry hump fest.
“Good job, Dee,” the director said.
“Thanks.”
She hurried to her dressing room, unable to make eye contact with the crew that moments ago had seen every part of her anatomy that an R-rated movie would allow. When the camera was on, she could be a moaning, groaning slut, but when the scene was over, she rushed for cover.
Being a body double wasn’t something she had wanted to be when she came to L.A. five years ago. She had seen herself becoming a star of the silver screen, setting her hand and foot prints in cement. Her first double job had been to pay the rent until she got her face on camera. Now, the only way the public would know her was if they saw her
ass or tits. She may as well never touch lipstick or eye shadow again. No one was interested in her face or her acting abilities. Self-doubt had long ago taken control and although she hadn’t accepted the death of her dream, she was beginning to think this was all there was for her.
In her dressing room, she showered before changing into street clothes and combing her blond hair. She applied a little makeup and pondered the ridiculousness of her career choice. Why not porn? she asked herself. Why not centerfolds so men can masturbate over my photograph?
It had become difficult to look in the mirror. Yet she did. Every day she made sure the makeup was perfect. Just the right shade of foundation, blush, eye shadow, and mascara. And never forget to shine up your lips. When the day was done, take the makeup off and slather every inch with moisturizer.
When her cell phone chirped, she recognized her agent’s number. “Hello?”
“Hey, Dee. What’s up?”
“Not much. Just got laid in front of a set full of people,” she said sarcastically. In truth, the last time anyone had fucked her, she was drunk and didn’t even remember it all. She frowned and sat on the tatty sofa. “Other than that, I’m just fine.”
“Good.” Michelle laughed. “At least you can get laid. I’ve not had any since 1987.”
“Anything new to report?” she asked, biting a thumbnail.
“Got another part for you. Are you available next week?”
“You know I’m supposed to go see my folks,” she reminded, trying to straighten the now crooked false nail. “It’s their thirtieth anniversary. I’m not available. Unless…”
“Yeah?” Michelle asked.
“Unless it’s a real acting gig and not another grunt fest.”
“Just a shower scene. No one but you and the crew.”
Frustration tugged at her throat and she felt the familiar knot and threat of tears. Rubbing her hand over the fabric of her jeans, she said, “Sorry I can’t. I’ll be gone for two weeks. I’m tired, Michelle.”
“I know.”
The sympathetic tone in her voice eased Dee’s tension. She blew out a frustrated breath. “I can do it before I go if you move the date up. I can’t miss this party. I haven’t been home in years and Mom’s looking forward to seeing me. This is a big deal for the folks. God knows not many people out here make it through thirty years of marriage.”
Excerpt: The Groupie
Mandy moaned as Thad’s full lips seized hers. Her body arched against him, his hands fondled her breasts. Those talented hands that strummed a guitar and penned beautiful songs played her body with practiced care. Kissing her, his tongue slid into her mouth. He tasted like whiskey and smelled of spicy cologne. Nibbling her ear, he continued to
stroke her body, his fingers taking in every inch of her, and leaving ripples of desire in their wake.
She squirmed, eager to receive him. His steely prick evaded her as he continued his seductive assault.
“Hurry,” she panted.
Rising above her, he stared into her eyes. “No hurry, baby. We got all night.”
Beep-beep-beep.
At the sound of the tiresome alarm clock, Mandy’s dream of Thad Curtis fucking her disintegrated and the mundane reality of her life took control. Get up, make coffee, shower and go to work for the horrible, overstuffed Morris Benjamin. A man who believed he could take it with him. Mandy and her coworker Liz Varden affectionately dubbed each other “Bob” and “Cratchett”.
“Damn, it was just getting good,” she grumbled and picked up the offensive ticker, tossing it across her bedroom. It landed with a gentle thud on the carpet. Flipping on the radio at her bedside, she hoped a little music would get her going.
“Good Morning, Nashville,” the announcer Mark Maddox said, his voice so chipper, if she could, Mandy would have smacked the crap out of him. “Everyone knows Mr. Thad Curtis is coming to town. Be caller number ten and win a copy of his new CD, Here I Come.”
Mandy chuckled. “In my dreams.”
“That’s not all,” Mark continued. “We’re going for the grand prize today. That means you’ll win limo service, a ten minute one-on-one meet and greet, and tickets, front row center, for tomorrow night’s concert. All you have to do is be caller number ten. Here’s the number, 555-WTEN. Call…now!”
Mandy jerked her phone from its cradle and began to punch the numbers, each time getting a busy signal. Her heart sank as she entered the digits for the tenth time. Shit, still busy. One more time and then I have got to get a move on.
To Mandy’s delight, the phone on the other end rang. It rang three, four, five times. “What’s taking so long?” she whispered. By the tenth ring, she had all but given up.
“Congratulations, you’re our winner.”
“I am?” Mandy asked, astonished. She held the phone tight to her ear.
“Can I have your name please?” Mark asked, his animated tone no longer grating on her like fingernails against a chalkboard.
“Mandy…Mandy Evans.”
“Where are you calling from, Mandy?”
“White Springs.” Mandy plopped back on her pillows and pulled her fingers through her sleep-tousled hair. Excited jolts of electricity coursed through her, making it difficult to be still.
I’m going to see Thad in concert. Beautiful Thad Curtis, who only moments before, had the ability to bring her to a dreamy climax. The thought of seeing his tall, muscular frame, blonde curls, and green eyes up close and personal
made her heart race.
“You a Thad fan?” Mark’s voice was almost an intrusion into her daydream.
“Yes.” She giggled with childish glee.
“Well, you’re in for a treat tomorrow.”
Thank God, Delilah James thought as she pushed the godlike actor off and reached for her robe. Pulling the terry cloth over her shoulders, she covered her nudity. It never ceased to amaze her how these guys could turn a love scene into a dry hump fest.
“Good job, Dee,” the director said.
“Thanks.”
She hurried to her dressing room, unable to make eye contact with the crew that moments ago had seen every part of her anatomy that an R-rated movie would allow. When the camera was on, she could be a moaning, groaning slut, but when the scene was over, she rushed for cover.
Being a body double wasn’t something she had wanted to be when she came to L.A. five years ago. She had seen herself becoming a star of the silver screen, setting her hand and foot prints in cement. Her first double job had been to pay the rent until she got her face on camera. Now, the only way the public would know her was if they saw her
ass or tits. She may as well never touch lipstick or eye shadow again. No one was interested in her face or her acting abilities. Self-doubt had long ago taken control and although she hadn’t accepted the death of her dream, she was beginning to think this was all there was for her.
In her dressing room, she showered before changing into street clothes and combing her blond hair. She applied a little makeup and pondered the ridiculousness of her career choice. Why not porn? she asked herself. Why not centerfolds so men can masturbate over my photograph?
It had become difficult to look in the mirror. Yet she did. Every day she made sure the makeup was perfect. Just the right shade of foundation, blush, eye shadow, and mascara. And never forget to shine up your lips. When the day was done, take the makeup off and slather every inch with moisturizer.
When her cell phone chirped, she recognized her agent’s number. “Hello?”
“Hey, Dee. What’s up?”
“Not much. Just got laid in front of a set full of people,” she said sarcastically. In truth, the last time anyone had fucked her, she was drunk and didn’t even remember it all. She frowned and sat on the tatty sofa. “Other than that, I’m just fine.”
“Good.” Michelle laughed. “At least you can get laid. I’ve not had any since 1987.”
“Anything new to report?” she asked, biting a thumbnail.
“Got another part for you. Are you available next week?”
“You know I’m supposed to go see my folks,” she reminded, trying to straighten the now crooked false nail. “It’s their thirtieth anniversary. I’m not available. Unless…”
“Yeah?” Michelle asked.
“Unless it’s a real acting gig and not another grunt fest.”
“Just a shower scene. No one but you and the crew.”
Frustration tugged at her throat and she felt the familiar knot and threat of tears. Rubbing her hand over the fabric of her jeans, she said, “Sorry I can’t. I’ll be gone for two weeks. I’m tired, Michelle.”
“I know.”
The sympathetic tone in her voice eased Dee’s tension. She blew out a frustrated breath. “I can do it before I go if you move the date up. I can’t miss this party. I haven’t been home in years and Mom’s looking forward to seeing me. This is a big deal for the folks. God knows not many people out here make it through thirty years of marriage.”
Excerpt: The Groupie
Mandy moaned as Thad’s full lips seized hers. Her body arched against him, his hands fondled her breasts. Those talented hands that strummed a guitar and penned beautiful songs played her body with practiced care. Kissing her, his tongue slid into her mouth. He tasted like whiskey and smelled of spicy cologne. Nibbling her ear, he continued to
stroke her body, his fingers taking in every inch of her, and leaving ripples of desire in their wake.
She squirmed, eager to receive him. His steely prick evaded her as he continued his seductive assault.
“Hurry,” she panted.
Rising above her, he stared into her eyes. “No hurry, baby. We got all night.”
Beep-beep-beep.
At the sound of the tiresome alarm clock, Mandy’s dream of Thad Curtis fucking her disintegrated and the mundane reality of her life took control. Get up, make coffee, shower and go to work for the horrible, overstuffed Morris Benjamin. A man who believed he could take it with him. Mandy and her coworker Liz Varden affectionately dubbed each other “Bob” and “Cratchett”.
“Damn, it was just getting good,” she grumbled and picked up the offensive ticker, tossing it across her bedroom. It landed with a gentle thud on the carpet. Flipping on the radio at her bedside, she hoped a little music would get her going.
“Good Morning, Nashville,” the announcer Mark Maddox said, his voice so chipper, if she could, Mandy would have smacked the crap out of him. “Everyone knows Mr. Thad Curtis is coming to town. Be caller number ten and win a copy of his new CD, Here I Come.”
Mandy chuckled. “In my dreams.”
“That’s not all,” Mark continued. “We’re going for the grand prize today. That means you’ll win limo service, a ten minute one-on-one meet and greet, and tickets, front row center, for tomorrow night’s concert. All you have to do is be caller number ten. Here’s the number, 555-WTEN. Call…now!”
Mandy jerked her phone from its cradle and began to punch the numbers, each time getting a busy signal. Her heart sank as she entered the digits for the tenth time. Shit, still busy. One more time and then I have got to get a move on.
To Mandy’s delight, the phone on the other end rang. It rang three, four, five times. “What’s taking so long?” she whispered. By the tenth ring, she had all but given up.
“Congratulations, you’re our winner.”
“I am?” Mandy asked, astonished. She held the phone tight to her ear.
“Can I have your name please?” Mark asked, his animated tone no longer grating on her like fingernails against a chalkboard.
“Mandy…Mandy Evans.”
“Where are you calling from, Mandy?”
“White Springs.” Mandy plopped back on her pillows and pulled her fingers through her sleep-tousled hair. Excited jolts of electricity coursed through her, making it difficult to be still.
I’m going to see Thad in concert. Beautiful Thad Curtis, who only moments before, had the ability to bring her to a dreamy climax. The thought of seeing his tall, muscular frame, blonde curls, and green eyes up close and personal
made her heart race.
“You a Thad fan?” Mark’s voice was almost an intrusion into her daydream.
“Yes.” She giggled with childish glee.
“Well, you’re in for a treat tomorrow.”