Siobhán and Gabhain at 241 Harper's Cove Page 3

  I hear him snicker before he says, “Both.”

  “Works for me. Nothing like a partnership,” I tell him just before I take another bite of spaghetti Bolognese. I don’t care if I’m not much of a housekeeper. I’m a helluva good cook.

  “May I speak with Michael, please?”

  “Yeah. Hang on a second.” There’s sounds of walking and I hear the same voice yell, “Michael! Phone!” There’s another voice in the background before the first one says, “Yeah, well, you left your phone on the table.”

  “Hello?” he says breathlessly.

  “Hey, Michael, this is Siobhán McAllister.”

  “Hey, Mrs. McAllister! How are you?”

  “I’m good. I wanted to call and ask if you’d be available for filming Tuesday.”

  There’s a hesitation before he blurts out, “Well, uh, yeah! Where and when?”

  “Just come to the house at about nine o’clock. And you’ll need to go have your testing done and bring the results,” I tell him.

  “Yeah, okay. Just to the health department?”

  Thank goodness he’s interested. I was afraid he’d back out. “Yes. They’ll take care of all the paperwork and everything.”

  “Okay. Thanks, Mrs. McAllister. I’ll go this afternoon. Thanks for calling.”

  “Thank you. See you then.” When I hang up, I let out a deep sigh of relief. At least we’ve got one on the hook.

  Now the big question is, will he work out?

  I get up early on Tuesday morning and pay special attention to my shaving. I’ve always left a little landing strip there, but Gabhain told me the young guys these days like their women clean-shaven. I’ll be working with Michael later and I don’t want to gross him out. It’s bad enough that I’m probably twenty years his senior. With my luck, he’ll refuse to work with me because I’m older. God only knows what Gabhain will say if that happens.

  After breakfast, I take Chester for a little walk. Little bastard would run away if I didn’t have him on a leash. I don’t know why―god knows we kowtow to his every whim―but somehow he’s got it in his head that there’s a better place out there. One of these days I’m going to turn the little fucker loose and let him go find that home he’s so sure will be better than the one he has with us.

  No, I won’t. I love the little stinky ass. But sometimes …

  And wouldn’t you know, I don’t make it fifty feet before I hear someone calling my name. “Hellooooo, neighbor! How are you?” My brain is screaming, Oh, god, run fast and far NOW, but I can’t. That would be beyond obvious. Besides, she’s running to catch me, so I’d have to run faster, and frankly, I’m just not in the mood. I’m also not in the mood to talk to her, but she didn’t bother to ask me that. “Hey, Siobhán! How are you?” she asks, gasping for breath after that run.

  “I’m fine. I trust you’re doing well,” I say, trying to sound as formal as I can manage.

  “Oh, yes. I’m fine. So, what are you up to these days?”

  Here we go, I think. “Still working with the theater. And taking care of this little monster here,” I tell her and point to Chester.

  I can tell she’s trying to catch me in something. “The theater? Where did you say it was?”

  “Over in Hastings,” I tell her, watching Chester leave a deposit in the grass between the sidewalk and the street. I desperately want to pick it up and throw it at her.

  “Really? My friend who lives in Hastings says there’s no theater there.” She has this smug look on her face, like she’s waiting for me to admit I’m lying.

  “You and your friend,” I almost spit, “wouldn’t know about this theater. It’s a burlesque theater, kind of underground. Very hush-hush. Somewhat erotic. You’ve got to be in the know to know about it.” I watch her cheeks pink up when I say erotic. That’s a word that doesn’t sit well with her, I can tell.

  “You mean with naked women dancing?” she asks, and I know I’ve got her by the balls. “That’s, that’s …”

  I give her the most condescending smile I can work up. “Beautiful. The costuming, the makeup, the jewelry. It’s gorgeous, just gorgeous. I love working with them.”

  “Yes, well … the gentleman in your back yard, he told me you’re opening a funeral home and doing embalming in your basement,” she says, and I don’t like the way she’s looking at me.

  “Who? Kelso?” I’m trying hard not to laugh right in her face.

  She nods. “Yes. I believe that’s what he said his name was.”

  “He’s just messing with you! We’re not undertakers. We do some props for movie sets and things like that. We’re from California, you know,” I say, knowing that with that simple statement, I’ve made us exotic to her. Some people are easily entertained, and I’ve got a feeling she’s one of them.

  “You’re not undertakers?” I shake my head. “Well, now I’m going to look like a fool because I told every … um, my husband, that you were undertakers.”

  Uh-huh. She told everybody what Kelso said, and I make up my mind that when I get back to the house, I’m going to give him a big hug and kiss. “I’m sorry. He’s a big jokester. That’s one of his more endearing qualities,” I say with a grin.

  “Yes, well, I see. So, um, what kind of movies do you shoot?” she asks.

  “Oh, until we get bigger, just some commercials and things like that,” I say, trying to figure out a lie that will stick.

  She smiles. “Anything I’ve seen?”

  “No. They’re all on spec right now.” I see the confusion in her eyes. “Spec. Speculation. We shoot them and if they like them, we do the real commercial. Kind of like auditioning an actor, only instead, it’s an idea. A concept.”

  “I see! Oh, that sounds like fun! Do you need anyone to be in your commercials? Because I did a little acting in high school,” she says and I want to laugh aloud.

  “We’ve got professional talent we use, but thanks for offering.” I’m trying to be polite, but I’m not sure why.

  “If you change your mind, well, I could be a regular Vanna White!” she says and laughs. Oh, lord. I wish she’d leave. Almost as though she’d heard my thoughts, she adds, “I suppose I should go and start dinner. Russell gets very cranky if it’s not ready when he wants it. Be seeing you around,” she says and heads toward her house.

  “Thanks for stopping by,” I say and then want to kick myself. Don’t encourage her! my brain screams.

  Oh, well. At least she can’t say I was rude. But her in one of our videos? That’s something no one wants to see. “Come on, Chester,” I tell the little shit. “From now on, you’re going potty in the back yard.”

  Gloria

  “I saw that McAllister woman today,” I tell Russell.

  “Oh, god. What did you say to her?” I hear him moan from the living room.

  “What? I didn’t do anything! We just chatted. By the way, that man lied to me. They’re not undertakers!”

  He snorts before he says, “I tried to tell you, Gloria, but you wouldn’t listen.”

  These mashed potatoes just won’t get smooth. I don’t know what the heck’s wrong with them. “Well, anyway, they are shooting videos over there. Commercials. On spec,” I tell him.

  “On spec, huh?”

  “Yes. That’s what she said.” He’s probably wondering if I even know what that means. “Spec means—”

  “I know what it means,” he mutters.

  “They must not be very good at what they do or they’d be doing movies,” I add.

  “There’s a lot of money in commercials. Besides,” he says, walking up beside me as I’m still beating on the mashed potatoes, “commercials are pretty quick. Movies take months and months, sometimes years. Commercials would only take a few weeks or at most, a few months. Then they’re done and you’re on to the next one. Some people like variety,” he says and reaches for a radish on the plate of crudité I’ve cut up. “Not everyone wants the same old thing all the time.” Then I hear him snicker. “But you wouldn�
��t know about that, would you?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I snap back.

  “Nothing. Nothing at all,” he says and wanders out of the room, a carrot stick in one hand and a celery stick in the other.

  He wants variety, huh? I just reach into the refrigerator and get the shredded cheddar, dump about half of the package into the mashed potatoes, then start stirring again. He wants variety? Well, there’s your variety, bub. Cheese in the mashed potatoes.

  I hope you’re happy.

  4

  Siobhán

  When the doorbell rings, I run up the stairs and grab the knob. Michael is standing on the other side of the door, grinning. “Hey, Mrs. McAllister!”

  “Hi, Michael! Come on in,” I tell him and open the door wide. As soon as he’s in, I shut it and lock it.

  “Uh-oh. Is this some kind of trick or something? Are you really ax murderers making sure I can’t get away?” he asks, laughing.

  “No!” I say and laugh too. “No, we’ve got a horribly nosy neighbor. If she walked in while we were filming, well, hell, that would be pretty bad.”

  “Oh, god, yeah. Not good at all.” He looks around. “So where’s Mr. McAllister?”

  “Down in the basement. Kelso’s down there too. You can go on down if you want. The stylist should be here in a few minutes. Her name’s Rhonda.”

  “Wow. A stylist? Oh, this should be fun,” he says with a smile. “I’ll just go on down.”

  “Want something to drink?”

  “Water will be fine,” he says, turning toward the stairs, but then he stops. “By the way, who am I working with today?”

  “Uh, me. I hope that’s okay.” I wait to see if he’ll make a little retching noise.

  “Oh! Cool! That’ll be good. You’re a veteran. I’m sure I’ll learn a lot from you,” he says and clomps off down the stairs.

  When I get downstairs with my beer and his water, I find him standing there talking to Gabhain and Kelso. “Did you show him the script?” I ask, handing Michael his water.

  “Just getting ready to. Kelso, you wrote it. Want to give him an overview?” Gabhain asks, so Kelso picks up a copy.

  “In a nutshell, guy and his wife having sex. He leaves to go somewhere. She puts on a robe and tells him goodbye at the door. He hasn’t been gone long, she’s watching TV, and the doorbell rings. She goes to the door, finds a young guy standing there in a deliveryman’s uniform. One thing leads to another, they fuck, and the husband walks in just as they finish. The young guy thinks he’ll be mad, but instead, he tells the young guy to fuck her again while he face fucks her. She gets a happy ending from both directions, young guy shoots onto her back, husband gives her a facial. We all on the same page?” he asks. Everybody nods. “Good. So we’ll start out in the bedroom over here,” he says, pointing to one set, “and then cut to them saying goodbye at the door. Then TV noises in the background, doorbell rings, she comes to the door, lets you in,” he says, pointing to Michael. “Then we’ll cut back to the bed. The rest of the video will be shot there.”

  “Got it,” I tell him. “Sounds good.” I hear the doorbell again. “Oh, that must be Rhonda. Be right back.”

  Sure enough, it is, and she gets to work immediately doing makeup and hair for me and checking the guys over. She puts a little powder in Gabhain’s hair at his temples and in his close-cropped pubes to make him look a little older. Then she takes one look at Michael, grins, and says, “Nope. I think you’re fine just like you are.”

  He chuckles. “Thanks!”

  “You’re welcome! Facial this time around?” she asks.

  “Yeah, at the very end,” Gabhain says.

  “Okay. Hope you get that in one take. I’d hate to have to redo all of this, but I will if I have to,” she says as she finishes touching up my eye makeup.

  “We always try for that. Michael,” Kelso says, pointing to the rack, “there’s your uniform. Change into it, and yes, underwear. Your feet will be below camera level, so just pretend to toe your shoes off and I’ll dub in some appropriate noises.”

  “Gotcha.”

  “Don’t worry. You’ll have plenty of time to hit your marks. You gonna have any trouble getting hard?” Kelso asks him.

  “If I’m standing here watching them fuck? I sincerely doubt it,” he says, grinning.

  “Okay. If you do, Rhonda will help you,” Kelso tells him. I watch his eyebrows hike up and he glances at Rhonda, who gives him a little crooked smile. “We ready?”

  By the time we get undressed, Gabhain’s hard as a rock. He grabs a bottle of lube and says, “Okay. We’re already in the act when the video starts?”

  “Yep,” Kelso says.

  “Tell me when,” Gabhain says.

  “Oh. When. Whenever. You start fucking, I start rolling. No biggie,” Kelso says and checks the focus. “Looks good. I’ll just start it rolling now.” With that, he presses a button and all the lighting rigs come on. Then a red light comes on at the front of the camera. We’re under the lights and rolling.

  “What do you want to do?” I ask my husband.

  “Doggie style. That okay, Kelso?”

  “Yup. Works for me,” he calls back to us.

  “Good deal. Elbows and knees, babe,” he tells me. When I’m in position, I feel the cold lube he’s rubbing into my slit. “Here we go.”

  He takes two slow, deliberate strokes into me and then goes to town. He speeds up, slows down, speeds up, slows down, and even though there are three other people watching us, I have to moan because it feels so damn good. Somebody asked me once if I’d ever come during a movie. I told them no.

  I lied.

  We go at it for at least ten minutes. Then he taps my hip, the one farthest from the camera, three times. That means to squeeze down on him so he can come. My tits are bouncing from the pounding, my nipples dragging up and down the surface of the sheet, and they’re hypersensitive. For once, I’d really like to come. I’ve always loved being watched while I’m fucking somebody. There’s just something about it that really turns me on.

  His fingers dig into my hips and I know he’s going to turn loose. Sure enough, it’s less than a minute and I feel his release, warm and wet inside me. When he’s finished, he pulls out and sits back on his heels, stroking my ass, but I know Kelso’s zooming in on my pussy so viewers can see Gabhain’s cum running out of me. While he’s sitting there, he says his lines. “I’ve got to go to the auto auction tonight so I’ll be gone late. I should get a shower and get dressed so I can go.”

  “Okay, baby,” I say, thinking about my lines. “I’ll let you shower in peace so you can get finished. If I shower with you, we’ll just wind up fucking again and you’ll never get to the auction.”

  “You know me so well!” he says, laughing, and stands, then leaves the set. I stay there, on my elbows and knees, waiting.

  I don’t wait long. “Okay, cut! That was good!” Kelso says, smiling. “Very good! Let me check the camera angles and if it all looks okay, we’ll move on to the next set.” Gabhain’s wrapped a towel around himself and he stands behind Kelso, looking at the feed from the camera on Kelso’s laptop. “Yeah. That was good. Okay, next scene. Siobhán, get the robe. Michael, if you’re not already hard, you need to get that way.” Gabhain’s rushed around and thrown on a tee and a pair of track pants. “Good. You’re dressed. You both walk in from outside the camera’s range and go toward the door to say goodbye. Soon as that’s done, Siobhán, you walk out of range, and Gabhain leaves through the door. Everybody ready?” Gabhain and I both nod. “Okay, action!”

  We walk arm in arm, say our lines, and kiss goodbye. Gabhain opens the door, steps through, and closes it. I stand there for a few seconds with my hand on the door, as though I’m trying to will him to come back, then turn and walk the other direction until I’m out of the camera’s range. I stand off-camera for a few seconds until I hear Kelso say, “Cut!”

  “How was that?” I ask.

  “Good, I think. A
nd I love the way you added that touch at the end. Very nice,” he says, grinning.

  “The horny housewife longing for her horny husband,” I tell him and laugh.

  “Yeah. The horny husband who’s going to need help getting horny again,” I hear Gabhain mutter and then laugh.

  “Okay. Now, I’ve been thinking about this. So I think I want the two of you,” he says to Michael and me, “to start at the door. Siobhán, it should work so that you drop your robe. And you,” he says, pointing at Michael, “should at least lose your shirt so that when the husband comes back, he steps into the bedroom with your shirt in his hand and wants to know what the hell’s going on. Does that sound logical?”

  “Sounds logical to me,” I say.

  “Me too,” Michael adds.

  “Okay. So you’re going to come to the door. During edits, I’ll insert the doorbell sound and the sounds of the TV in the background. You come in with the package and hand it to her, then hand her the clipboard to sign for it. Once he’s done that,” Kelso says, turning toward me, “you let the shoulder of your robe fall down so one tit shows. That’s where the action starts.”

  “Got it. You keeping up, Michael?” I ask.

  “Yeah. Got it.” He seems confident, and I’m hoping this will go okay.

  “Okay, places everyone. In three, two, one, action!” Kelso calls out.

  I step in from off camera and open the prop door. Michael steps through with a package and a clipboard. Then he turns the package a bit and looks at the label. “Are you Mrs. Smith?”

  “Yes. Is that for me?” I ask.

  “Yes, ma’am. If you’ll just sign right there,” he says, handing me the clipboard and indicating the appropriate place to sign. I take the pen, scribble something, and then hand the clipboard back to him. Just as he hands me the package, my robe slips on the side closest to the camera and my whole breast is exposed. “Oh, ma’am, your, um,” Michael says, feigning embarrassment.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry! I’m sure you didn’t want to see that,” I say, following my lines.