Fake It to Make it Pt. 03

Chapter 5

My phone no more than slid into my purse on the vanity in front of me than Jeremy rushed up with a gown bag and a look of exasperation. His partly balding head and wispy brown hair told a story of the wind outside, but his reason for being out of breath was a mystery.

"Her put this on!" He shoved the dress into my arms as I spun the chair away from the lighted mirror and my makeup lady scoffed as he elbowed his way closer to me.

"What's this?" I asked, trying to see through the translucent plastic the gown was zipped up in. All I could see was a cream color and beads, but it piqued my interest. I unzipped as I looked up at his excited expression. He held his hands over his mouth and his eyebrows high as the zipper lowered.

"It's the dress, hun. They sent it all the way from Paris. They want new shots in this to make sure you'll fit the spread they have in mind." He never took his eyes off the gown as the makeup lady helped me slide the dress out. I had to have cost a pretty penny, probably couture.

"Wow," I muttered, rising to hold the dress up to me. The bodice was strapless, zipper in front hidden by an extravagant arrangement of gems and beads. No doubt some of them were real pearls and diamonds. And the sheer tulle fabric had been embroidered with dark green thread creating vines that snaked across the creamy surface and boasted bright pink cherry blossoms in strategic locations.

"Yes, wow." He huffed, "Now put it on!" His hands shooed me, swatting at me like a dog he was chasing away.

I rose and glanced at the makeup lady who looked just as impressed as I was by the lavish garment. I slipped into my dressing booth and shrugged out of my jeans and t-shirt and realized very quickly that my bra was not going to work with this thing. Luckily I had a stash of pasties I kept in a wooden box on the shelf in the room, along with safety pins, hair ties, and an assortment of other things for "just in case" moments.

The dress went on easily, though zipping up was a challenge. I had to navigate the front-zipper between my tits and then tuck them into the cups of the dress correctly. If I had slightly smaller tits it wouldn't be such a problem but I figured once I was in the dress no one would ever know. It wasn't like other people dressed me.

I turned to look in the mirror before heading back out and I thought it was exquisite. I almost squealed with delight. My makeup wasn't quite done; I'd need a drape cloth to avoid getting foundation for my warm skin on the cream fabric, but I thought it looked incredible.

Unfortunately, the instant Jeremy saw me he clicked his tongue and sighed. "Girl, it's just a little too tight, isn't it?"

His one comment took the wind out of my sails and I felt defensive. He was always brutally honest, and in this profession it was almost always about my appearance or posture. Thus was the nature of the industry. Women were judged by their body shape or size and nothing more. It didn't matter that my degree--which I was still paying for--could earn me far more than Jeremy would ever make, if I applied myself. To agents, clients, and cameramen, I was just the. Hunk of meat on the judging table.

"What?" I asked, turning around in a circle. "I think it looks incredible." I caught another glimpse of myself in a mirror and didn't see what he was talking about. Sure it was challenging to zip, but only because of the size of my chest. The makeup artist looked confused too, though she'd only been with me for a few weeks now. I didn't even remember her name yet, so she had a lot to learn about Jeremy in particular, and this industry as a whole.

"Look, it's just this..." He took me by the shoulders and forced me to turn and face the mirror across the room. He wouldn't dare actually touch my body other than my hand or arm, to maybe to adjust my hair during a shoot. But he did point at my shoulders down to my navel and grimace. "Way too much going on here."

I scoffed and then chuckled nervously. "What are you talking about?" I asked, shaking my head.

The small room felt cluttered suddenly, like the walls were closing in on me. Jeremy was my first agent, though some models had been through eight or ten before finding the one they liked. I didn't mind his edge, but at times I felt like his advice was out of touch with reality or bordering on abusive. Still, he was all I had.

"This," he said, again waving his hand at my body, except this time it was directly over my chest. "Is too much. Have you gained weight? I hear the first place you lose is in your chest. Maybe you should constrict calories for a while, a week or something. This dress might fit better then." He walked off, running a hand across his head and smoothing down the wild fly aways. "I told them we'd have new shots by week's end, but I supposed since we have a few month until the big spread in the spring, we have time to get them the shots. I think three pounds might do it."

My temper flared, but I bit back my remark and kept my face calm. I watched the makeup lady walk over to her station and start organizing her brushes and compacts through the reflection in the mirror. Jeremy walked to the door and huffed again and then wiggled his fingers.

"Take care of that gown. It's worth more than your car. We'll need it next week." The way he breezed out in a sour mood was polar opposite to the way he came in all bubbly, and I still had to go out there in my get up for today's shoot and deal with it. Which meant he was likely going to nitpick everything about the shoot.

I rolled my eyes and headed back into the dressing room, this time to don a more casual outfit. I did everything I could to stay fit and trim for my career but sometimes I felt like my agent pushed me too far. Losing two to three pounds in a week would be impossible unless I worked out nonstop and ate nothing, which just wasn't healthy. He knew that, but all he cared about was the photo shoot and the money.

After a very stressful day, I headed home only to find Beck standing at my apartment door. One of my neighbors let him come up and he'd slumped to the floor along the wall with a twelve-pack of beer halfway empty already. He looked tired and upset, and I knew it would be a challenge trying to cheer him up. But as a friend, and a friend of his sister, I knew I had to do something.

"Hey," I muttered as I unlocked the door and he stood. "Rough day?"

"You can say that," he slurred, and I could tell he probably hadn't eaten. It frustrated me that I'd offered to have dinner at my place too, because now that I was clearly not eating, and he was so drunk he obviously needed food, it meant I had to order in and watch him eat. Or worse--cook for him.

"Talk to me," I said, dropping my keys and purse on the stand by the door.

Beck followed me in, shutting the door behind himself as he crated the cardboard box his beer was in. He left a few cans in the hallway I'd have to pick up later, and plopped himself at my dining room table, opening another beer before responding to me.

"I went to his office. He's just being a dick. It's like he got what he wants and now he's poisoned her against me." Beck had such a bad attitude about things when he knew it wasn't Drew's doing. He'd brought this on himself. I knew when he was sober he accepted the blame and wanted to make things right, so I carefully danced around that topic.

"I'm sorry it went that way. Let me get you something to eat." I started for the fridge, but he snapped at me.

"Not hungry. Come sit down and let's talk about how we're going to make Cici pay attention to me." He slurped his beer and my heart broke. I wanted nothing more than to fix it for him because in doing so I'd also help Cici feel better. In reality, though, seeing this human side of Beck--him wrestling and struggling with the mess he'd made of his life--made him all the more desirable to me.

I walked over to him and gripped his shoulders, listening to how he complained about the entire interaction with Drew at the office. My hands worked the taut muscles in his neck and shoulders, and he finished one beer after another. I didn't have a compulsion to fix people. Most of the time if someone was in a funk like this I preferred to walk away, let them deal with it themselves. But Beck had never been one to open up to anyone, not even his sister. I had to let him vent.

And I didn't mind that his opening up was to me either. I was starting to realize that my interest in him wasn't just a superficial crush I'd had since high school. Yes, he was hot, but he was human, and he had a heart and a soul, and for some reason I cared.

"Look, we have to give them a bit of space. But we can do this. I'll keep wearing her down." And I'd keep pouring on the affection, patience, and compassion all over Beck's weary soul. I knew he'd told Cici years ago that he wasn't interested in me. But that was back when he was a college boy and I was just a teenager. We were both single adults now and there was no reason why I couldn't attempt to get him to take interest in me.

"I just don't think it's going to work..." He sounded so defeated it broke my heart. I kept rubbing his shoulders, trying to think of a way to help him and the only thing that came to mind was the idea we were already trying--me dating him. Cici would be forced to think of Beck and me together, and she knew I didn't put up with crap from anyone. It meant she'd have to humanize Beck in her thoughts and think of him as someone with feelings and emotions.

"Maybe we just have to convince them even more that we're really dating. We could be seen together in public, by them even. We can plan a date where we know they'll be--I just have to get Cici's itinerary from her secretary Julie." My mind started to whirl with possibilities. It would, of course, only work if Beck was on his best behavior. My hands continued to massage his stress away as I thought about how to make it even more real.

"Like sleeping together..." Beck grumbled, and my heart did a flipflop.

"Like what?" I asked, not certain I understood what he meant. He'd been drinking and his words were slurred, but I could have sworn he said sleeping with him. "You mean, sleeping over?" I asked.

Beck grabbed my hand and halted my massage, then turned in the chair and looked up at me. "I mean, if we sleep together and you tell her, she'll get riled up and at least call to go off on me. Right?" Beck's eyes sparkled with hope and a bit of pain, but mostly alcohol.

"Uh, Beck..." I nervously smiled at him. I had no qualms about fucking him. I'd dreamed of him asking me to do that for years, but just to get his sister's attention? And we could just tell them we'd done it and they'd believe us. We didn't have to actually do it.

"Yeah," he said, standing slowly. "It would get her attention."

"But I could just tell her we've done it. I don't think we really have to do it." I bit my lower lip, confused as to why I would resist his idea when it was something I'd wanted forever.

He chuckled and pushed a few strands of hair out of my face. "You're telling me Nev Winters, the girl who's had a crush on me since senior year in high school is objecting to having sex with me now when it could help me out?" He had no idea how bad I wanted him and also how manipulative he sounded right now. But the part of me that wanted him--most notably my aching pussy--didn't give a rat's ass about that. "And you're a horrible liar. I'm surprised she believed that we're dating. You aren't a salesman. You can't lie well."

My body trembled as I stared up into his eyes and tried to focus on what he was saying instead of how my body was responding to his hand caressing my cheek. This fake relationship had been my idea, and now it was taking a turn that I hadn't expected. I wanted this--don't get me wrong--I just wanted it to be genuine. I wanted Beck to want me and actually want a relationship with me. Not just fuck me because in doing so I'd be able to be honest with his sister and convincing when I told her we'd had sex.

"Beck, I don't know..." I started to back away but he put a hand on my hip. I know if I put my foot down and protested he'd be gentleman enough to understand and back away. I also knew he'd be hurt and that he needed solace and comfort, and who knew if this was exactly what would make him want me anyway?

"Alright, that's okay," he said, and his frown started to curl his lips downward again, but I rose up on my tiptoes and pressed my lips against his. The kiss short and sweet, but it made my body explode into a frenzy of hormones and sensations.

"You know I've wanted to do this literally for years, right?" I asked him, lingering close to his mouth.

"And you know how much it will push Cici's buttons that we've slept together. She'll go ape shit. No way she'll keep ignoring me." His hands became greedy, gripping my head and turning it upward so my lips were his to claim.

"Beck, I need to know you're not just using me. Like..." My heart felt vulnerable and exposed. It felt so wrong, to let him do this to my body when in reality I was in it with my heart. Why would I do this? How could I sell my soul like this?

"If you want me to stop, say so..." He backed me across the dining room area to the open door left of the fridge. My bedroom invited us into its darkness, stealing our clothing and leaving a mess on the path to my bed. He was grabby and insistent, and I was everything he wanted in that moment. Even if it was fake for him, nothing more than a booty call to get his rocks off and make my story convincing to Cici. He was giving me what my body had wanted from him forever, and despite how my heart ached, I let him give it to me.

The darkness was punctuated only by the dim glow of the moonlight filtering in through the translucent curtains, casting a haunting glow over our entwined bodies. Beck's hands traced the curve of my spine and I could feel a shiver of anticipation rippling through me.

"Are you sure?" came his whispered slur. His tone was hushed and husky, his eyes burning with a desire that mirrored my own. I nodded, unable to form words as he captured my lips again in a searing kiss.

His hands were everywhere, exploring every inch of my body with a hunger that left me breathless. Lost in a swirl of feelings both physical and emotional, I clung to him, my fingers digging into his back as if he were my lifeboat in a stormy sea of desire. He retreated every so often to gaze into my eyes as if he were searching for something and it only made me want him more. I knew he needed something from me, but in the process, I was getting what I needed too. It felt selfish and yet selfless at the same time.

"Mmm," I moaned against his mouth as his hard dick ground against my center. And I rose up to meet his body as he did it, his hands now grabbing my hips. My body needed him, craved the feeling of him filling me, but I couldn't have any accidents. "Condom," I mumbled against his lips and he grumbled.

But he obeyed, stretching out across my bed to reach for the nightstand, as if it were his own. The darkness made it impossible for him to see what he was doing, though the alcohol probably played a part in that too. So I scooted up and reached for the second drawer where I knew I kept the protection. As I did, he slid lower, nipping at my tits and drawing a nipple between his lips. I panted, and shuddered when his fingers found my core and slid through the moisture I'd created.

"Fuck," I hissed, my hand retreating with the condom packet. But Beck was already halfway to his destination. His lips left a trail of moisture across my navel to my mound and his tongue flicked my clit, making me jolt in pleasure. "Shit... Oh god," I moaned, feeling his mouth suck me in. I didn't care that he was drunk or that to him this was just no-strings-attached sex. What he was doing to me in this moment drowned everything else out. I clutched the condom in my hand while he slicked and sucked me.

The pleasure was so fierce it was hard to think straight. His hands were relentless, tracing the line of my inner thighs, stroking my hips, fingers dipping in between to tease my swollen flesh. My back arched off the bed in response, a scene of surrender under his skilled ministrations. I could feel every nerve ending flaring up, the heat from his mouth setting my body ablaze.

"Beck," I gasped out his name like a prayer, one hand fisting in his hair to keep him where he was while the other still clutched at the condom packet.

"Give it," he growled, snatching the condom from my hand as he looked up at me. In the dim light of the room, I could see his wicked smirk before he dived back in. His tongue delved deeper, exploring and tasting me like he had all the time in the world. The intensity of the sensation built up, crashing through me in waves, making my toes curl and my breath hitch.

His hand slipped away from my inner thigh. Glancing down, I saw him fumbling with the foil packet with one hand while keeping up his relentless torment with his mouth. A low growl vibrated against my skin as he struggled to open it. A drunken laugh hitched out of his throat at my impatience. I clawed at his head with both hands.

"Fuck.. I'm so close... Don't stop," I panted, but he pulled away just as I crested the edge and started the decent into the throes of orgasm. My body convulsed as he climbed over me, sliding his cock into my pussy with such force I yelped.

He buried his face in the crook of my neck, his hot breath puffing against my skin as he filled me completely. His movements were rough and frenzied, matching the cacophony of my own heartbeat. I wrapped my legs around him, pulling him deeper. He growled in response, nipping at the sensitive skin of my neck while his hands dug into my hips.

The bed rocked beneath us, its rhythm in sync with our frantic bodies. The room was filled with nothing but our labored breaths and soft, feral noises. Each thrust sent a ripple of pleasure through me, a tidal wave that drowned all thought. Only Beck existed. Only his touch, his taste, his voice whispering my name like a sacred chant.

"Fuck Nev..." he groaned into my ear, his voice raspy and filled with animalistic urgency. I answered him with a whimper that morphed into a scream as he hit that spot inside me, the one that sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through every nerve ending in my body.

My nails dug into the muscled flesh of his back as he pounded into me, our bodies slick with sweat and desire. I could feel him everywhere, could hear him above the sound of our bodies colliding. My mind was a mess of Beck and his intoxicating touch. We moved as one, writhing in the sheets, the world outside forgotten.

Then, an odd sensation flickered between us. I winced, feeling something wasn't right. Beck paused too, his body going rigid above me. "Shit," he muttered under his breath and I knew what had happened even before he pulled out and the sex drained across my ass cheeks.

He rolled to the side and collapsed, breathing heavily and rolling to his back. I sat straight up, and even in such low light, I could see the condom had torn. I could feel his cum on my thighs and the bed under me. And in that split second everything was gone, the emotion, the relaxation of post-sex endorphins, even my desire for him. All gone.

I shot off the bed and raced into the bathroom, feeling his load run down my inner thigh the entire way. My mind was racing and my hands were shaking as I turned on the water and climbed into the shower before it was even warm. I didn't care. I couldn't get pregnant. my career was already shaky with Jeremy demanding I lose weight all the time.

The icy water made my nipples hard and my body shiver. I scrubbed myself as I cried, sliding down the shower wall until I was curled into a ball, seated beneath the flow that finally warmed up. I could fool myself all I wanted to into believing that sex meant something to Beck, when in reality the only person it meant anything to was me. I was in love with him. I'd have done anything for him. I'd humiliate myself or take a bullet, all for him, and I didn't even know why.