Can I be your French Maid? Ch. 05 - Sex Stories

Can I be your French Maid? Ch. 05

... there, close to him, unable to decide what to do with my hands.

"Nervous?" he asked.

"A little bit," I whispered.

"Don't be, you'll be fantastic. Just concentrate on me, Ok?" he asked.

I nodded. The crew set up, and we took our positions. The director called action, and Josh sprang to life. I was captivated, devouring every line as he chewed the scenery.

The director moved the position of the camera, and we did several takes. My job was simple. Literally stand in one place.

We changed locations, tearing through the script as Josh delivered one stunning performance after another. Between takes, I checked my phone. With fifteen minutes left to spare, we wrapped up.

"Was it what you were expecting?" Josh asked me as he rummaged through the fridge in the kitchen.

I was sitting at the kitchen island, thankful to be off my heels. "To be honest, I wasn't sure what to expect."

"Every production is its own unique challenge. Here," he said, turned and offered me a beer. "I stashed it away before we started. Figured I'd give it to you when we wrapped."

I looked down at the beer bottle. Why shouldn't I? I thought. I'd earned it. I reached out for it. He unscrewed the cap, handed it to me then did the same with his.

"Cheers," he said and raised his bottle. I raised mine, and we clinked them together. I took a sip, savoring the cold suds.

"You were incredible," I said as I lowered my beer.

"You're too kind."

"No, really. I couldn't stop staring ...

... at your... I," I said, flustered. "I mean, you were very believable... in the role."

"Thanks," he said and took another sip.

"No really..."

"I know what you're gonna say next," he said, smirking.

"You do?" I asked.

He leaned forward on the kitchen island. "You're going to tell me it's wasted in a porno."

"Well no, I..." I said, stunned.

"You were thinking it, though, right?"

I raised my beer bottle and took another sip. I was, I couldn't deny it. "Ok, maybe a little bit," I confessed.

He laughed. "It's all right. You're not the first person, and you won't be the last."

Maybe it was the tiny bit of alcohol coursing through my veins, or just blind curiosity. But I kept pushing. "Why... pornos?" I asked, then realized I was probably overstepping my boundaries and tried to stumble backwards. "I'm sorry, it's none of my..."

"It's alright," he said, calmly. "I don't mind."

He grabbed a barstool and sat down across from me. "I'm actually not the only one here with a rather distinguished film resume."

"No?" I asked.

"If you were to do a quick google search, you'd be shocked to discover that our cheerful director is responsible for some of your most beloved childhood memories."

"Really?" I asked, surprised.

"Yup. There was a time when he could have the pick of any script, cast any star and name his budget. That was after Terror doesn't knock twice, where he discovered me."

He took another sip of his beer, leaned forward and rested his ...