Oh goodness – sometimes I have a LOT of fun writing. I dreamt up a niche genre the other day – one I’m almost pretty sure doesn’t exist – and now the idea is taking on arms and legs. The niche was plus-size vampire erotica. For the purposes of limiting offence potential, what you read here is more likely described as plus-size vampire romance. For chapter one, click here.
Say what you like about The Firm, but the clothes were amazing.
Gregor had always been a fan of fine tailoring and the Savile Row suit he was currently wearing was an incredible example. The tux fitted him perfectly – the material of the trousers slim fitting enough to outline impressive quads, while the jacket looked as if it had been made for him.
It reached his hips, falling in a way that you could only describe as luxuriantly draping. The arm seams were in perfect alignment with his shoulders so that the jacket moved seamlessly with him.
The bow tie, naturally enough, was dangling untied and his thick dark hair ruffled where he’d run his fingers through it. That finger ruffle had been unscripted, but Liza the director had been so charmed by the gesture – it drew attention to those dark brown eyes and gave him an air of slight vulnerability as well as added sincerity – that it had been kept in.
“Good job!” she said as she moved forward. Gregor had removed his jacket – the fearsome heat of the lighting had given him a sheen that fortunately only enhanced his appearance on the film, but he did look decidedly uncomfortable now.
“You’ll no’ need a second take then?” he asked and Liza shook her head firmly.
“No need – you were perfect. Have you ever considered a career in –”
Gregor shook his head firmly this time, anticipating the question before it came.
“The Firm keeps me busy,” he said, imbibing the answer with the tiniest bit of regret so that Liza didn’t feel dismissed. Or as if her question had been asked countless times before.
“Pity,” she said. “You’re a natural in front of the camera. And that’s always much more difficult when you’re trying to tell people a message or sell them something.”
He smiled back at her. “Thanks. Hopefully ma bosses will like the piece. They can be hard to please though. Think they’ll let me keep the penguin suit?”
“Hope so!” Liza said. She’d had nothing to do with the props or costumes for this particular piece of film. The instructions and direction from The Firm had been very clear and precise. Normally Liza didn’t tolerate heavy-handedness on the part of the client – creative freedom and all that – but The Firm paid generously and on time.
As her sound director put it, “think of us as a fish and chip shop Liza. If a very rich client comes in and says they want fish and deep-fried marshmallows, fish and deep-fried marshmallows it is”. Or on this occasion – a detailed 10-page instruction manual on the precise look and feel of the advertisement.
“What’s the ad being used for – The Firm didn’t specify the audience?” she asked, curious about this little omission as they had been so specific about everything else.
Gregor shrugged, his eyes not quite meeting hers. “Ach some campaign they have coming up ah think. Ah’m no’ entirely sure.”
His accent, combined with that gorgeous face and body, was another deal-sealer for Liza. She knew it was a cliché, but she did love a Scottish accent. Gregor’s was perfect – his inflections rising at the end of sentences so sometimes a lot of what he said sounded like a question. He rolled his Rs beautifully, often said “ah” instead of “I” and never said small, preferring “wee”, a word that was much more descriptive and could be used for all kinds of purposes.
Gregor looked as if he was now hanging back politely. She could see the tiny almost imperceptible tap of his foot. Clearly, he was a man who had a lot to do.
“Do you need to go?” she asked and he jolted slightly – caught out by body language communication.
“Well, aye and no,” he said. “Ah’ve been working really hard lately and Ah feel like I’m due a wee rest.” She could see some kind of thought process going on behind those eyes, and he suddenly smiled at her – a great beam that showed off straight white teeth, a dimple on one cheek and the fanning of fine lines round those dark eyes.
Flip, it was powerful. Liza, having worked with many beautiful people over the years, counted herself immune to many of their charms. Physical beauty often disguised rampant insecurity. When you valued yourself according to your physical worth, Liza’s mother had always told her, you’re setting yourself up for a lifetime of unhappiness.
Liza, preferring not to entangle herself in the mess of someone’s fucked up ego and/or eating disorder/gym obsession/sun avoiding/expensive skin cream purchasing/Botox, fillers and plastic surgery mess, generally steered clear of the beautiful people.
Gregor though… as the seconds ticked by, she could feel her resolve slipping.
“And what would your ‘wee’ rest involve?”
He gave her a shy smile – oh yikes, yikes, yikes – and shrugged lightly, the movement causing his jacket held by one finger over a shoulder to ripple, sending out waves of whatever aftershave he had been wearing. Pine. Wood smoke and undercut with something very musky.
“Well, hen,” and he smiled at her again, as if checking out the effect the little endearment had on her. “Ah think ah probably need to lie down.”
By now, the studio was deserted. The others had slipped out minutes ago after she’d called “cut”, and the two of them had the place to themselves. There were no couches, sofas or beds in there was Liza’s first thought – one she chided herself for immediately. What was she? Middle-aged now?
Gregor had picked up her hand and drew it to his mouth, kissing it and winking at her at the same time.
Oh, who needed beds? Continue reading