The Actress

Please note that the characters in this story are fictional. "Marnie Schuppner/Scott" aka "the actress" is not a real person and has not appeared in any of the film/movie roles referenced.

Prologue

It started on a Friday in early October, 2024. I was making a rare appearance in my office building in a suburb of St. Paul, Minnesota. Much of the company switched to working from home a few years earlier, but I forced myself to spend a day in the building at the start of each quarter. It was motivation to complete my quarterly reporting for the board of directors as quickly as possible so that I could return to the comfort of my home. I started early, around 6AM, and was usually done around 1 or 2 in the afternoon.

I work for TDN, a leading provider of professional services for the middle market, with industry-focused solutions and global insights. That's what our public facing website says, at least. Some days I'm not sure what I accomplish, if anything, other than get one day closer to retirement.

Anyway, it was Friday morning, no other cars in the parking lot when I arrived at 6:00. I made my way to an empty corner office on the 4th floor with a nice view. The best part of working on site, by far, is the view. The office is right along the Mississippi River, and it isn't uncommon to see deer or wild turkeys in the field behind the building, or to see eagles swoop past the windows, nearly scraping their talons along the glass. The worst part, aside from the work itself, is the aging building. It's been in use since the late 60s and still includes ceiling panels stained from cigarette smoke. Every few years the company promises upgrades, but they are still pending. I hear that the C Suite on the 5th floor is nice, though.

I plugged in my laptop, put in my airpods, and got to work. I ignored all incoming messages, and only took one or two bathroom breaks, never seeing or hearing any other person on the 4th floor. By 1:00 my work was done and I was getting hungry. All files saved, emails sent, I shut down my laptop, stashed it and some other files in my messenger bag, put on my jacket, and headed for the stairs, debating where I should stop for lunch.

At the top of the stairs, I had a view overlooking the lobby of the building and the parking lot. To my surprise, the parking lot was half full, with a few large trailers parked on the curb right outside the door. The lobby was buzzing with people; there were a bunch of wheeled storage crates, the kinds bands used to move gear, lined up along the hall. Lights and cameras were being moved into place, pointing into an area of cubicles on the first floor just beyond the lobby. Puzzled, I started walking down the steps. Was the company filming a commercial? I don't recall us ever advertising before. (I barely knew what we did and I'd been here nearly two decades; how could a 30-second commercial explain it?)

By the time I made it to the landing between floors 1 and 2, with a full view of all the commotion below during my descent, I had started attracting attention from others in the lobby. My confused expression contrasted with a panicked look from anyone I made eye contact with. Finally I heard a voice boom "Get that extra off the stairs! What's he doing? He's not even in costume! Someone get him out!"

I quickened my pace and made it to the lobby floor where I was met by a young woman in a headset. She took my arm and steered me to the front door.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what's going on. I was just working upstairs and now I'm leaving."

Her grip tightened. "The building was supposed to be empty. We're filming today. We rented the office for three days. You've gotta get out of here."

"Absolutely... yes... I'm sorry, I must have missed an email or something..." Truth was I had stopped reading most corporate announcements sent via email a few years ago. At least, stopped reading anything except the subject line. If there was one that said "Stay out of the Building Oct 4-6" I assume I would have paid attention.

As I neared the door, I saw through the window a similarly geared-up and panic-stricken young man leading a woman from one of the trailers into the building. She was costumed in 80's working girl garb, her red curls teased out larger than what was presently stylish. She entered through the outer door just as I passed through the inner door into the vestibule. Our eyes met, and we both did a double take. I knew her. Yes, I'd seen her in other movies and tv shows, but I knew her. We had graduated from high school together more than 24 years earlier, our alma mater still operating an embarrassingly small number of miles from where we were standing. I smiled and she seemed to do the same, though neither of us said anything or even broke stride.

Once outside, I found my car and quickly drove away. I forgot about lunch, and as soon as I arrived home I started up my laptop and checked my email. I went back over the two previous weeks and found three urgent corporate reminders letting everyone know that the office would be off limits for three days, that it had been rented out to a film production company, that filming would be confined to the lobby and first floor only, and who to contact if anyone had issues with damaged or missing items when they returned on Monday. I've really got to start reading those emails...

Act 1

It was the next Monday. I hadn't left home all day. As usual, I woke early, showered, got dressed, brought a cup of coffee into my home office, worked all day, answered emails, sat through conference calls, all the usual stuff. After work I spent some time raking leaves in the backyard, then made dinner for one. After dinner I spent some time on the treadmill in my basement, and now I was on the couch, Monday Night Football quietly playing in the background while I divided my attention between a book about the origins of the Cannonball Run (the car race, not the movie) and whatever YouTube video caught my eye. My phone occasionally beeped with more trash talk from my fantasy football group chat.

The routine was broken by my phone ringing. Unknown number, not a local area code. I answered it anyway.

"Hello?"

"Hi," a female voice. No pause, meaning this likely wasn't a sales call. "Is this Preston?"

"Yes, I'm Preston." Waiting to hear what this call was about, I realized, was the most exciting thing that had happened to me that day.

"Oh, good. This is Marnie. Hopefully you remember me; we kinda bumped into each other on Friday."

I could feel all the blood in my body rush to my face. I felt warm. I sat up on the couch, then stood, not understanding that I was still alone, that she couldn't see me. It was Marnie. The actress. The one I had seen on Friday in the office and hadn't seen (in person at least) prior to that since our high school graduation. Marnie Schuppner, well, Marnie Scott now, according to IMDB at least.

My brain screamed multiple commands, some conflicting, and I did my best to compose myself before responding as cooly as I could manage. "Yes, I thought that was you. Sorry about crashing your movie set."

She laughed. "No worries. The PA's always look that frazzled. It's nice to give them an easy problem to solve so they feel useful." Now it was my turn to chuckle. She immediately continued, "So I'm gonna be in town for the next month, working mostly, but I was wondering if you'd like to meet for a drink."

More panic. More screaming from my brain. Any chance at being cool in response was gone. I didn't want to respond too quickly, but also knew that if I waited too long she'd just start laughing and hang up the phone. After a beat I managed to utter "Yeah, I'd like that."

"Great. I should be free by 8 tomorrow night. Let's meet at the Norse Moose Lodge in St. Paul. If I'm running late I'll text you."

My head was still spinning with the suddenness of the invitation. I sensed that the conversation was over, so didn't press it. "Great, I'll see you then. It'll be good to catch up."

"Yep, see you tomorrow. Bye!"

I set down my phone and started pacing around my living room. I turned off the tv, then turned it back on. I looked out the window into my dark backyard, then wandered into my kitchen, opened the fridge, stared into it, then closed it and walked away. What just happened?!?

It'll be good to catch up? What did that mean? We had probably only ever talked twice in school, and that was probably one of us asking the other to borrow a pencil or to get out of the way. In a class of more than 500 people, we couldn't all be friends.

I wandered into my bedroom, into my closet, considered what I'd wear, for the first time wondered how she'd gotten my phone number. It had been a few months since my last first date. Wait, was this a date? No, no, no... just catching up. She'd be bored with our "catching up" before the first drink was empty. This wasn't a date. Maybe she was just being polite. Maybe she was bored. Maybe it was part of a media strategy - Hollywood A-lister (well, let's be honest, B-lister at best) returns home to film a movie and slums it with high school chum... not that we were ever chums... Damn, I wasn't gonna sleep tonight. Should I take a sick day tomorrow?

I managed to compose myself long enough to make sure doors were locked and lights were off, then brought my phone to bed. I pulled up her IMDB page and started doing my homework. I noticed that she was inaccurately listed as 37 years old, 5 years younger than me. So she was 13 when she graduated? I wonder if her prom date knew that.

I scanned her acting credits, one episode appearances in dozens of tv shows from the past 20 years: CSI, CSI: Miami, Parks and Rec, The Big Bang Theory, Law & Order, Law & Order: SVU, Silicon Valley. She was in one episode of House as a patient diagnosed with MERFF syndrome. She was in one episode of How I Met Your Mother credited as "Redhead at Bar."

Her movie credits were interesting. There was the Ben Affleck political thriller, the college beach sex comedy, the Judd Apatow comedy where she did her only near topless scene (her hair covered her breasts). There was a supporting role in the comedy Auto Pilot, where she played a flight attendant who had to tie up a drunk John Cena using seat belt extenders. There was the Lifetime original Suburban Catwalk where she played one of a group of suburban moms who moonlight as lingerie models. (I caught a few minutes... wasn't as good as it sounds.) And the year before there was her first top billing - Hard Habit, about a nun who sneaks out of the convent at night and pretends to be a hooker, then kills abusive pimps and johns. That one would be destined for cult classic status if only there was more nudity and blood. The quest for a PG-13 rating killed it. Online consensus was that it deserved a director's cut.

I put away my phone and stared at the dark ceiling above my bed. I considered my own boring life. What the hell were we gonna talk about?!?

I eventually fell asleep, then sailed through work the next day with as little effort as possible. I never turned on my webcam and even rescheduled a few calls for which I lacked the mental energy. When the time came, I got dressed in jeans, a casual buttondown, and a blazer. The drive to the bar took less than 10 minutes. It was in the downtown area of St. Paul, adjacent to a few decent hotels and a bunch of other bars and restaurants.

Despite it's name, the Norse Moose Lodge was actually a pretty nice place. Not log cabin-y and beer soaked, like the name might imply. They had a great cocktail and wine selection, and the design was modern and clean. There was no sign of her red curls when I arrived; no surprise - I was still half certain that she was gonna no show me or that this was all part of a prank. I got a table in the corner where she could still see me from the door, but where it would be quieter, more private. As could be expected, they weren't especially busy on a Tuesday night. The waitress immediately came for my order, and I settled on an old fashioned.

I checked my phone to pass the time, and a few minutes after 8 she magically appeared tableside.

"Oh, good, you're here," she said by way of introduction, then sat in the chair across from me. I put my phone back into my pocket and stared at her with a silly, stupid grin on my face. She was wearing a long tweed skirt and white blouse, with a green corduroy jacket. Her red curls were loose and one tress of hair hung over her face. Our eyes locked in on each other, and her smile matched mine.

The waitress arrived then and took Marnie's drink order, interrupting the awkward silence. She ordered a vodka tonic, and after the waitress left I said the first thing that came to my mind. "You look exactly the same." She chuckled and looked away, then reached up and swiped the lock of hair behind her ear. "No, I mean it..." I gestured toward her, making it clear that I was referring to the whole package, "It's like you haven't aged at all." She really hadn't. She still had the same petite, toned body (at least what I could see), the same smooth, clear skin. Her hair was still the same bright red, no sign of graying. Even with her just sitting in a chair I could feel waves of energy coming off her, drawing all of my attention to her. Maybe this was a trick all good actors knew, or an inherent ability that pushed someone into acting.

"Well, thanks. But I'd say the same about you. When I saw you in the office the other day, it was like immediate recall; like, your name just came into my brain along with all of these memories." I was momentarily puzzled. What memories? We hardly knew each other. "I do like you with the glasses though, they give you a distinguished look. You should have worn those in school."

"I could actually see then." She was being kind. I was at least 15 or 20 pounds heavier now than I was then, my hair wasn't turning gray yet but was thinner (much better styled, but thinner). Maybe I dressed better now, but it'd be weird if I was still wearing Weezer tshirts and cargo shorts every day.

I tried to change the subject. "I'm really curious about this movie you're filming in my office. Is it set in the 80's or is your character just a really bad dresser?"

"Oh, yeah," she looked away, as if she were embarrassed about it. "It's a Blumhouse original, a psychological horror movie set to be released next October along with 50 other psychological horror movies."

"What's it about?"

The waitress arrived and slid the drink in front of Marnie. She said thanks then took a sip before answering me.

"So, have you heard about the McMartin Preschool thing from the 80's? It was a preschool in California that got caught up in the satanic panic, people being accused of abusing children, sacrificing kids to Satan, that kind of stuff? Well, this movie is kind of a fictionalized version of that, except that it is all real, not a panic. And I play the intrepid reporter who goes undercover to expose everything, only I get in way too deep. It's titled Rosemary's Babysitter, lawsuit pending."

She took another sip. "Your office is being used for all of the newspaper office scenes. We got all of those filmed over the weekend. Now we'll be filming all around the area for the next month or so. Thursday and Friday night we'll be filming a coven of extras dancing naked around a bonfire while I watch from the trees."

While she was talking I took a few more big sips from my glass. The sweet booze gave me just enough courage to respond "So you - your character - is just watcing?" My eyebrows raised along with my voice at the end of the question.

She lowered her chin and gazed at me seductively. "I assure you, you do not want to see me... dancing." Message received. We let that shared understanding linger while we both bent our elbows.

"So, tell me about your job. I haven't heard of that company. What do you do?"

Ah, that dreaded question that derailed most of my social interactions. I took another sip. "The company does a lot of business to business work, consultation, project management, software implementation, that type of stuff. Honestly it's all really boring. I'm pretty much just on auto pilot. It's what I do to pay the bills, that's all..."

She had a pained look on her face. "So all that talk in school about doing what you love... never sunk in with you?"

"I guess what I loved was never having to worry about unemployment or how I was going to pay my bills. Ugh, let's change the subject... too depressing."

"After school I always assumed that I'd eventually run into you in L. A., working in the industry, I mean."

"Well, you kind of did..."

"Well, yeah, but you know, as a career. I didn't envision 'boring office job' for your future."

Uh oh, did she have me confused with someone else? I wasn't one of her theater kid friends. This was about to get awkward. Before I could give her the bad news, she continued.

"After the One Act Show, senior year, you just seemed to be on another level. Your play is still better than half of the scripts I see now."

Ah, yes. Now I remembered... That's how she knew me. My senior year, spring trimester, I already had all the credits I needed for graduation, but still showed up a few hours a day to pass the time. I rolled into school about 10 AM for an economics class, then lunch with friends, then a creative writing class, for fun and an easy A, and then I rolled out. For the creative writing class, I wrote a short play for an assignment, and my teacher liked it enough to send it over to the theater teacher for submission in their annual student script contest. Students submitted short plays, and two winners were picked to be performed one night only. Mine was picked and performed.

I had honestly forgotten about it, as it was really just a class assignment for me, and there wasn't a prize or scholarship or anything that went with it. I didn't even go to the performance, although a friend told me that mine got the most applause. Aided, I'm sure, by Marnie Schuppner, the star of the theater department, choosing to star in my play, even though it required her to go blonde temporarily. I did spend one afternoon with the student actors, talking about the script, talking about how I imagined the stage would be set up. I was a total amateur though, and I assumed they were rolling their eyes and laughing at me behind my back. I thought back; of course Marnie was there, and we did talk, talked a lot actually. That must be how she remembered me.

My expression must have given me away, as she gave me a puzzled look. So I confessed. "Gotta be honest, I had really forgotten about that play. Writing was never really my thing. That was kind of a one off, you know? After graduation I went to college, majored in business, got my MBA. The only creative writing I've done since then was my wedding vows." I made sure my empty hand was visible when I said this, and noted that her ring finger was also bare.

She laughed then cocked her head sideways and looked deep into my eyes. "It's still in there. It doesn't leave. You'll see."

There was a moment of silence as she let that sink in. Then she got to the other reason for her invitation. "I, uh, have something I want to talk to you about, in case you were wondering why I reached out to you." As she said this, she dipped a hand into her purse and took out a bundle of folded papers, which she set on the table, out of my reach.

"If you're gonna ask me for my autograph, this is gonna get even more awkward," I said. She laughed again.

"Like I said earlier, when I saw you on Friday, your name immediately popped into my brain. And, I thought about how I'd completely lost track of you, not hearing any updates through the usual gossip pipeline. Apparently most of the people from our teens have also lost track of you."

"As I intended," I added, pulling on my armor of self-mockery.

"In L. A. I have a private investigator on retainer. A girl can't be too careful. I don't go into business with anyone or on a date with anyone without getting a background check done. Despite my choice of careers, I'm actually a private person, and I don't want to end up on TMZ or, worse, dead in the desert. Do you want to know what they found out about you?"

Wait, did she say this was a date?!? I nodded toward the papers. "Is that it? More than I thought was out there..."

"Nope. They found nothing. Well, not nothing." She took out her phone, tapped a few things, then started reading. "They know your name and where you went to school, a few addresses you lived at. Where you work, but I already figured that out. No criminal record, not even a speeding ticket, no kids, one divorce which was completely amicable, no allegations of abuse or infidelity. You live alone, no mortgage, no debt at all. Just the one source of income. Never bounced a check. Never audited by the IRS." She looked away from her phone and toward me. "My investigator said you had the highest credit score of anyone he'd been asked to investigate, but I suppose that may say more about his clientele than you." We both shrugged and she went back to her phone. "No Twitter, no Instagram, no Snapchat. Facebook profile hasn't been touched in more than two years, and before that you only updated your status once or twice a year. No political affiliations or campaign contributions aside from $100 each to Black Lives Matter and Tim Walz for VP."

I shrugged again. "He drives a Scout. I like a guy who drives a Scout."

She continued. "No medical red flags. No broken bones. Vasectomy 10 years ago. Clean physical just two months ago, no history of smoking or drug use, no STDs."

"How did they find that?!?"

"Anyone who uses MyChart is a sucker." Before I could respond, she continued. "You're not on any dating apps, except for a paused Tinder account, which I guess explains why you felt the need for the STD screening. But also no signs that you're dating anyone. No purchases at jewelry stores or womens clothing stores. There was a florist purchase..."

"For my sister, for her birthday."

"... But the florist was located near your sister's home address, so we assumed..."

"Very thorough. I'm starting to worry."

"No international travel since your divorce. Domestic travel shows one trip to Key West shortly after your divorce was finalized, otherwise just sticking to the upper Midwest. My point is," she put down her phone, "you have an extremely clean life, no drama, no worries. And because of that, I have nothing to worry about in relation to you. This empty investigation and the fact that I know you from way back makes this so much easier."

"Wait, makes what easier?"

She finished off her drink and set the empty glass on the table. Then she nodded toward my glass, which I picked up and also finished off.

"Like I said, I'm a woman who likes her privacy. But I'm also a woman with needs. So I need to make an effort to ensure that those needs are being met by someone who also values privacy, theirs and mine. I had to give up my Raya account years ago. Dating in L. A., actors, showbiz wannabees, all too sleezy, all looking to bolster their body count and have something to brag about. I can't open up with someone, I mean really open up, if I think there's even a chance that it could bite me in the ass."

I continued to just look at her, guessing on where this was going, but also still not certain, needing to hear it from her.

"I'm going to be in town for another month, mostly working, but not always. I'd like it very much if, while I was in town, there was an attractive, trustworthy, discreet gentleman nearby who was free to spend time with me with minimal warning. I'm really, really hoping you'd be interested in that type of role."

I took it all in and thought about my boring life, my boring job. It had been a few months since I'd been on a date, and it had been more than a year since I dated anyone who I wanted to see more than once. I was lucky enough to have a good group of friends, but they were mostly married and had kids, so seeing them with any regularity was impossible. I thought about my daily routine, bed to office to kitchen to couch to bed, I was so eager to break the monotony.

Then I took her in, really looked at her, studied her, thought about the version of her I sorta knew 24 years ago, the version of her I'd seen on screen, and the version of her that was sitting before me now. How could I possibly say no?

Slowly, I responded, "I don't have any acting experience, but I'd really, really like to take on that role. But you may need to give me some acting tips along the way."

She lit up in an ear to ear smile. "The first tip that any actor gets from their agent is where to sign." She reached to the folded papers next to her and opened them up. I scanned the top of the first page. It was a Non Disclosure Agreement.

"An NDA?" I laughed. I picked it up and started scanning. I'd seen enough of these at work to recognize the boilerplate and to know that in a personal arrangement they were almost unenforceable.

"Your background check was perfect. This is just insurance." She leaned across the table and barely above a whisper added "Just think of the types of things I might want to do with you if I think this is needed."

I could feel myself blushing and getting stiff under the table. I continued scanning the three pages, just making sure that there wasn't any financial power of attorney language hiding in there, or anything permitting her to film me or use my likeness for anything. Everything seemed clean, so I asked "Do you have a pen?"

She picked up her purse and said in an exaggerated tone, "You know what, I actually forgot to bring a pen. But I know for a fact that there's one in my hotel room right next door. Maybe we should go there, together, and use that one."

We both started standing, and I had to be careful to not show off my growing bulge to the rest of the people in the bar. We each dropped a twenty dollar bill on the table and exited, nodding at the waitress on the way out. I tucked the papers in my coat pocket, then she took my hand and led me down the street to her hotel. We rode the elevator to the 6th floor and she scanned us into her room.

It was a standard hotel room; queen bed, bathroom with tub and shower, desk, chair, flat screen tv. Nothing too extravagant. This wasn't a big budget movie she was working on, and she wasn't an A-lister. She led me to the desk and I set the NDA down, flipping to the last page where the signature field was. She handed me a pen then pressed herself against my back, pressing her lips against my ear, breathing warmly into me and whispering "please don't make me wait..."

I signed it and set down the pen. She was already pulling off my jacket and throwing it in the corner with hers. I spun around and took her in my arms, leaned down to her and kissed her neck, making her gasp. I guided her to the bed and we stood body to body, pulling off each others clothes as best we could.

Under her shirt was a red lacy bra holding breasts that were larger than I remembered them being in some of her movies. I wondered if she'd had them augmented recently. Her skirt was unzipped and it fell to the floor, revealing matching red lace panties. She didn't waste time unbuttoning my shirt, choosing instead to pull it over my head, yanking off my glasses in the process and sending them flying. I didn't care. She quickly undid my pants and dropped to her knees as she slid them down my legs to the floor. In no time she had taken me into her mouth, loudly and uninhibitedly slurping as she bobbed her head back and forth. I gently rubbed the back of her head, letting my fingers get tangled in her curls, then reached down her back and quickly unhooked her bra. She wiggled out of it without taking me from her mouth.

She found just the right spot and I moaned out loud. "Oh, God, Marnie, that's wonderful." She gave a muffled "mm hmm" and kept going with more vigor. I had a flash in my mind of her in an early tv role, making out with a young Chris Evans. I thought about her tongue once in the mouth of Captain America, now massaging the tip of my cock. Was any of this really happening?

Just then she withdrew and looked up at me. "I need you inside me. Lay down."

As she stood I stepped around her and laid down on the bed, on my back, still standing at full attention. She climbed onto the bed and stood above me, lowering her panties to her feet then kicking them across the room. She reached down and touched herself. I gazed up at her wet lips topped by a tuft of red curls. I didn't need the confirmation though, knowing that she'd been a ginger since she was a kid.

"I really need you to fuck me now," she said, still looking down at me and still touching herself. "And I'd like it if you came inside me too. Will you cum in my pussy?"

I nodded.

She lowered herself onto me and teasingly rubbed herself against me, not letting me penetrate. She gasped and I realized that it was herself she was teasing. I leaned up and took a nipple into my mouth, gently circling it with my tongue. She let out another moan then pushed down on me, taking me in completely. She wasted no time in building up tempo, and immediately we were in a rough, fast rhythm, my cock sliding nearly completely out of her before quickly slamming back in. Her moaning got louder and steadier, telling me she liked this pace.

I reached around her and gripped her ass, making it easier to control the rhythm. She took my face in her hands and gave me a big wet kiss. It felt like she'd let her mouth fill with saliva before kissing me, then pushed it all into my mouth. This really turned me on, and we were both frantically kissing each other, spreading spit over each others faces. I was glad I'd shaved before the date. Since I started working from home I was generally only shaving once or twice a week. My stubble would have carved up her tongue.

I spread my fingers wide over her ass, then tested my reach and slid a finger tip down the crack of her ass until it settled on her tight opening. She let out a gasp, never breaking our rhythm and moved her lips to my ear. "Go ahead, but I promise I'm still so much naughtier." I applied a little more pressure and felt her pussy tighten on me. Now each stroke felt like a tight fist was squeezing me, stroking me. I felt a twinge and knew that we'd reached the point of no return.

I think she sensed it to, because she repeated "Cum inside me, please," then gave me another massive wet kiss, soaking my face. I tightened my grip on her and unleashed, feeling myself explode into her, filling her with years of pent up frustration. "Yes, yes," she groaned into my ear with each spurt.

As soon as my orgasm subsided, she let out a satisfied giggle and quickly lifted off me. Before I knew what was happening, she was lowering herself onto my mouth and begging "lick my pussy, make me cum again." Even if I wanted to resist, I couldn't, as she was pressing herself onto me, but I was still so overcome with lust, so shocked by everything that had happened that night, that I dove in without hesitation. My tongue quickly found her clitoris and lapped at it while her body writhed on my face. I knew by her words and squeals that she was enjoying herself, so I continued, letting my tongue slip into her, releasing a torrent of our combined fluids onto my face. I worked a hand free and slid it around her and into her, fucking her while my tongue moved back to her clitoris. She climaxed again, spurting more sweet, salty, sticky liquid onto my face.

She surprised me again when she quickly withdrew, then laid on top of me, her mouth finding mine and kissing me deeply. Our tongues swirled against each other, and she withdrew to drag her tongue across my chin and cheeks, cleaning my face. Before I could respond with anything other than a groan, she slid down my body and slowly, sensually licked my cock clean.

Soon she settled with her cheek against my chest, my arm around her and caressing her back. Eventually she spoke up. "I really liked that. Did you like that?"

"Mmmm, yes, you are amazing." I kissed the top of her head.

"No, I mean really, did you like THAT? Some hate doing that after and freak out, some like it too much."

I thought for a moment. "That wasn't something I especially craved, or expected, but in the heat of the moment, knowing how much you liked it, I'm not going to complain." She raised her head and looked at me, let me see her smile, then kissed me.

"And besides," I added after the kiss ended, "It's not like either of us is going to be telling the world about it."

"Nope, what happens here stays here." She reached down and caressed me again, bringing out a few twinges of life. Then she surprised me by reaching across me, grabbing my right hand, and bringing it to my cock. She guided my hand around me and started me in a stroking motion. Then she rolled onto her back, still resting her head against my shoulder, and brought her hand between her legs. We lay there touching ourselves, watching each other, shedding every last scrap of inhibition.

Marnie came first, and hungrily licked her fingers clean. I let go of myself and rolled on top of her, kissed her. She playfully pushed back against me, rolling me onto my back and resting on top of me, kissed me again. Reluctantly, she said what needed to be said. "I wouldn't object to you staying, but we both have to work early, and so far tonight has been perfect, so... wouldn't want to jeopardize that..."

"Well, wham bam thank you sir," I joked. Before she could object I added, "No worries. You're right, probably best that I go." She moved aside so I could get up, and she watched me as I located my clothes and got dressed. Not making any effor to cover herself, she got out of bed and gave me a big hug and kiss at the door.

"I'll be in touch soon. Probably not before the weekend, since we're filming at night, but soon."

"No worries. I'll be around." We kissed again, and after the kiss broke she reached up and wiped my lips clean, then brought her fingers to her mouth and sucked them in. She opened the door and let me pass, patting my ass on the way out. I turned to see her naked in the door frame, suddenly less worried about her privacy, for just a moment. I waved and she did the same, then she closed the door behind me.

Act 2

What the actual fuck happened?!?

That was my first thought when I woke up the next morning, my alarm blaring louder than was needed. I stumbled to the shower while convincing myself that it wasn't a dream. I hadn't showered the night before when I got home, and I could still smell her on me. It was real. It really happened.

I washed up, got dressed, made my coffee, and retreated to my home office, the usual routine. I forced myself to focus, to get right to work and really throw myself into it, not let myself get distracted. Otherwise I'd spend the entire day staring at the clock miserably.

It worked, and I was being a good productive employee. In the early afternoon I got a text from my sister with a story from the local newspaper. Her message said "Look who's in town!" The link was to a story about a Hollywood production filming a movie in and around the city. There was a picture of Marnie, a headshot pulled off her IMDB page. My sister, Kat, was a freshman when Marnie and I were seniors, and had actually been in a theater production with Marnie that year, Kat as a background extra.

I opened the link and read the article. It mentioned filming at my office and a few other locations around town. It mentioned Marnie as a graduate of a local high school, conveniently excluding the year or the school. No details about the movie.

I responded to Kat via text, deciding that since it was in the news story it would be ok for me to confirm; "Yeah, they filmed in my office last weekend. We were barred from the premises."

"OMG, you should have told me!"

I didn't bother trying to explain that I was equally surprised due to my inability to read an email. Nor did I think it was a good idea to tell her anything else about recent events, whether the NDA was binding or not. She responded a minute later "If you see any filming sites near you, let me know. I'd love to check it out... from a distance." She added a winking emoji, as if I couldn't detect the true intent of her message. I knew she never really lost the acting bug after school. She'd even paid for her college with a couple commercial gigs. I was sure that she fantasized about being pulled out of the crowd and put to work, even if only as an extra.

I gave her a thumbs up emoji in response and got back to work.

Marnie had told me that I wouldn't hear from her before the weekend, which I repeated to myself frequently to keep from wondering why she wasn't texting. God, I felt like a goofy teen again, stressing out about if the cute girl liked-liked me. I forced myself to keep working, stringing together three of my more productive days since switching to working from home. On Friday, I decided that I didn't want to spend my Saturday waiting by the phone, so made plans to get up early on Saturday and drive to one of my favorite hiking trails north of the city. Sunday morning I had plans to get together with friends for a 40th birthday brunch celebration for a friend. I figured that if I didn't hear from her by the end of the day Sunday, then it was just like all those other first dates that went nowhere.

Saturday went according to plan, and I spent the day outside enjoying what might be the last weekend of good weather for the next 6 months. When I arrived back at home that evening, my phone still hadn't chimed. I got a good night of sleep, then on Sunday morning I met my friends at a local brunch place for the birthday festivities. There were almost two dozen there, mostly couples, including Kat who knew the birthday boy almost as long as I have. After mingling, Kat and I found seats next to each other at the long table.

"So, no family today?" I asked, wondering where her husband and son were.

"Tommy had a sleepover last night. And the Bears are playing, so..."

"Have I mentioned how much I hate that you married a Bears fan?"

"Yeah, you mentioned it in your wedding toast."

A woman on the other side of Kat asked "Have any of you seen the film crew working around here? I read in the paper that they're filming a movie in this neighborhood for the rest of the month."

Kat jumped in, "Yeah, they filmed at Preston's office last week, right?" She turned to me, along with most of the rest of the party.

I kicked her under the table then answered "That's true, we got a bunch of emails telling us the building was off limits for three days while they filmed. The company didn't tell us anything about the movie or who was in it though."

Another man across the table spoke up. "I saw that it's starring Marnie Scott. She grew up around here. She was the one in that killer nun movie last year."

Kat responded "Yeah, actually Preston and I went to school with her. She graduated with Preston. I co-starred with her in a few school plays too."

"Co-starred," I snorted. "You played a tree." That elicited a louder laugh from the table than I expected, and I felt a pang of guilt.

"I played a bystander," she corrected, "in the first play, and in the second I played a fellow laundromat patron. I had two lines. You should know, you wrote them."

Another memory, the one act play I'd written for class; it was set in a laundromat. So Marnie starred and my own sister had a part, and I still hadn't gone to see its one performance. More guilt. I'd completely lost my appetite.

"Wait," the birthday boy spoke up from the far end of the table, "you wrote a play in high school? If you wrote it, it must have been about, what, data interface, marketing strategies, what the hell is your job again?" Now everyone at the table was laughing at me; better than laughing at Kat.

"Honestly, that was a fluke thing. I had forgotten about it until..." Careful. "... until just now. I think it was about..."

"It was about love," Kat interjected. It was about a boy who had a crush on a girl, but didn't do anything about it." She was right, I remembered now. "And it was set in a laundromat, so we had to go dumpster diving for cardboard boxes to build the set."

"Yeah, that sound's like something Preston would write," someone added.

Then another commented "Ahhh, the glamorous life of the theater." The conversations devolved from there, taking me out of the focus, much to my relief.

The food arrived and conversation continued to swirl. At one point someone decided that anyone in attendance already past 40 should offer advice to the birthday boy. Before I could speak, someone added that I couldn't recommend that he get a divorce like I did. A dirty look from Kat ended that topic, and I offered only that he should switch from beer to liquor, and walk more. Most people nodded in approval, and I sunk back into the background.

The party wrapped up and goodbye hugs were issued, then I was back at home. I did a stint on the treadmill, then landed on the couch to half-watch football while wondering if my phone would chime before my self-imposed deadline.

Later that night I was in bed, reading, struggling to keep my eyes open, knowing that under normal circumstances I'd have ended my day long ago. But I wasn't ready to give up hope just yet. That's when the phone beeped. I checked, and it was a text from an unknown number. (I hadn't added her to my contacts, just in case...)

I read the message. "Crazy busy week, but I've got time off coming up. Can I come over for dinner tomorrow?"

I considered her self-invite. I'd need to do some grocery shopping. What do actresses eat? And maybe some cleaning too. After a minute, I responded, "I assume you already have my address?" and added a winking emoji.

A beat later and the phone beeped again. "See you tomorrow. 6 until???" Then a kissing emoji.

I set down my phone and started to mentally draft my message to my boss about why I needed the day off.

I forgot to turn off my alarm, so was woken earlier than I wanted to be the next morning. Without getting out of bed, I picked up my phone and tapped a message to my boss, practically typing out each cough and sniffle by way of explanation. Then I set my phone back on the nightstand and made a mental to-do list while staring at the dark ceiling: laundry (bed sheets especially), vacuum, clean bathroom, grocery shopping. It's not that I was a slob, but I wanted to impress. At minimum, I didn't want to give her a reason to leave earlier than "???" would imply.

By 6:00, the house was clean, bed was made, kitchen was stocked with a near infinite number of dinner options, and I was groomed and dressed in jeans and a gray sweater. I heard a car door slam outside, then the doorbell rang. I opened the door to her and welcomed her in as I watched the Uber drive away.

She was wearing the same green jacket from the previous date, along with jeans and a brown v-neck sweater that showed off a nice amount of cleavage and the white bra that supported it. I hung up her jacket and purse and welcomed her in.

"Should we start with the tour, or food first?"

Her eyes darted around; "Tour first, please." She held her arm out to me and I lead her in past the entryway. I showed her the kitchen and dining room and living room; pointed out the bathroom in case she needed it. Then I led her downstairs to the basement where my home gym was located. (I wanted her to know that I worked out...) Then it was to the upper level to show my home office, the little-used guest bedroom and bathroom, and then the master bedroom and bathroom. I had recently remodeled the master bathroom and was especially proud of it.

"You really live here alone?" She asked. "Did your ex-wife live here too?"

"No, I actually moved in here after we split up. This is all mine." She made an odd face, somewhere between being confused and impressed.

We retreated back to the kitchen and she took a seat at the table. I offered her a drink and she chose a glass of wine. I poured two, one for each of us, then asked, "How's the movie shoot going?"

"Not bad, but it can be so hard to tell while filming. So much is done in editing. But at least the director isn't screaming at people. And no one's been hurt so far."

"No one's been hurt? Do you have, like, action scenes or fight scenes?"

"Yeah, I did have a chase scene that was filmed Saturday. And I have a fight scene later, but that probably won't be filmed until the end. In case the other actress or I get hurt or a black eye or something, if it's at the end of the shoot it doesn't derail everything."

"Smart. If you need to practice any grappling or anything..."

"Oh, yeah? You think you can pin me?"

"I am twice your size."

She raised her wine glass. "A few more of these and I'll make you regret that."

"I'd better get some food in you too, then. What are you in the mood for?"

"Hmmm... what do you have?"

"Fridge and pantry are fully stocked. I've got a little of everything. You can take a look if you want and let me know what looks good." She stood up from the table and walked past me into the kitchen. She took a minute to scan the pantry shelves, then did the same to the fridge and freezer.

After a minute she turned to me and remarked "You know, you've got everything here to make a pretty good poutine." Her eyebrows raised suggestively waiting for my response.

My face lit up, unable to hide my approval. "And that, children," I replied, "is how I met your mother."

She burst out laughing as I moved past her and started pulling ingredients. She put her hand on my back and asked "need any help?"

"No, I got this. You can have a seat and enjoy the show." She sat up on a stool at the kitchen counter and watched me work, still sipping her wine. "I actually enjoy cooking," I remarked, "but it sometimes seems wasteful going through so much trouble when I'm just cooking for one."

"I've been wanting to ask you about that," she said. "What happened with your marriage?"

I shrugged, busying myself with food prep as I answered, not making eye contact. "Just one of those things I guess. We met in college, had ideas of what we wanted our lives to be like, ideas that were compatible. We both wanted to travel whenever we had the chance, we were both really dedicated to our work. We decided early on that we weren't going to have kids. And for the first 10 years or so it was great. We worked, and at the end of the day we'd lay in bed and talk and laugh and... We'd find fun local things to do every weekend, concerts, shows, whatever. As soon as we could both manage a week away from work we'd throw a dart and jet off for more adventure."

Marnie continued sipping her wine while quietly watching and listening to me. "It was right around our 10th anniversary, she started talking about selling everything and quitting our jobs and living a van life. She said that we could film everything and make all the money we needed on social media. I told her that the thought of that creeped me out. It was shocking to me that she'd even suggest that. Totally out of character. But she didn't drop it. I asked her if things were ok with her job, with her family, trying to figure out why she was so eager to leave her world behind. I suggested she talk to a professional if there was something that needed to be addressed. I meant a therapist, but she talked to a lawyer instead. Everything went quickly from there. No kids, so that part was easy. She had no interest in our house. We made almost the same amount of money, so no alimony demand. We sold our house, she took her half, bought a van, and that was that. I bought this place."

"Did you ever get any reason for her change of heart?"

"I didn't need it." I put down what I was doing and looked up at Marnie. "I know that I'm not the most exciting guy. I knew that after 10 years, she just needed more excitement. I wasn't interested in holding her back."

"It doesn't seem like your life was all that boring though. You travelled a lot," (I remembered her report on me; she probably had passport records showing all the places we'd been.) "kept busy with other fun things. I mean, my parents maybe went out for dinner once a month when I was growing up, nothing else, and they're still happily together, no worries about boredom there."

"Well then I guess it's a mystery. I bet your investigator could track her down. If she gives you a different answer, please pass it along."

"She certainly didn't leave because you weren't handy in the kitchen." She chuckled and finished her first glass of wine.

I had fries going in the air fryer, gravy on the stove, I liked a little bacon crumbled on top of my poutine, so bacon was in the frying pan. I was dicing up some chives, for color. I was still able to smoothly refill her glass without missing a beat. "Like I said, I like to cook. So, your turn. I know you're not married. Have you been? Ever gotten close?"

"Ugh... never married. I was engaged once, but nothing ever came of it. He got on a hit tv show shortly after popping the question and he moved up in the world. So that fizzled before we even booked a caterer."

"Is that why you don't date actors?"

"Yeah, pretty much. It's not that we're all vain flakes. But even the good ones might be away for months at a time filming something. It's just impossible to maintain a real relationship under those conditions.

"There was another guy I dated for a while. He was an associate producer on a tv show that I won't name. He was a nice guy, smart, hard working, as humble as someone in the industry can be. We were dating for about 6 months when I found out he was sharing some of the personal selfies I'd sent him with his friends and co-workers. That was one of the worst points of my life. I thought about quitting and moving... anywhere else... But then my agent came through; I'd never seen him so angry. He practically held this guy out a window by his ankles, just screamed at him and threatened him, made him cry. Like actual tears. My agent went through his phone and laptop and cloud drive, deleting every picture he could find, then got him to sign an NDA much scarier than the one I gave you. That's when I started doing background checks on... everyone..."

"This is probably a dumb question," I reluctantly replied, "but I'm sure you've been asked to do nude or semi-nude scenes before. So pictures of you are probably out there, so what he did, what upset you, was that more about protecting your image or his betrayal?"

"Definitely the betrayal. I really need to trust someone to be able to open up to them. And not only did he lose my trust, but he made it so much harder for me to trust anyone else. That was the worst part."

"I get that. For what it's worth, I'd sign a dozen NDAs for you just for the privilege to serve you my poutine." With a flourish I presented the finished product to her, and she responded with wide eyes and mock applause.

"And, for what it's worth, I turned down all those nude roles."

"Our loss..." I winked.

Soon we were seated at the table with two plates of poutine and a second bottle of wine. The first few bites proved successful, and she reached out, put her hand on my arm. "Well done," she mumbled through a mouthful.

After swallowing she said, "You know, I was on that show, How I Met Your Mother. Wasn't sure if you were aware of that when you made that joke earlier."

"Yeah, I actually was," I confessed. "I recently scanned your IMDB page."

"Oh, really? What did you think?"

"A lot of one episode appearances on a lot of shows."

She laughed. "Yeah, I've probably worked with everyone who's starred in a tv show during the past 20 years, and most of them don't know my name."

"Cram that self-pity," I remarked, the wine starting to do it's job. "You've accomplished a lot. Most people I know would trade places with you in a second. My sister, for example..."

"How is Kat?" she interrupted. Wait, did she actually remember her, or was this part of the background check?

Finding myself thrown off balance I stuffed a forkful of poutine in my mouth, then eventually responded, "She's good. Married, one kid, working as a middle school teacher. Still works in the school drama department. She actually did a few commercials when she was in college."

"I remember that. She was in that toothpaste commercial that was on all the time."

I was kind of shocked that she remembered Kat. I thought about mentioning Kat talking about her the day before, but realized that this might be a problem, if she thought I was talking about her to others, violating my NDA. While I considered how to respond, Marnie added "I sometimes wonder if I should have taken that path too. Marriage, kids, spending my days as a kept housewife or at a stable job in a place not populated by sociopaths and supermodels."

"Well, just to clarify, she does work at a public school, so..."

She chuckled and leaned toward me, gave me a kiss on the cheek, then she stood and cleared our empty plates, putting them in the sink. She looked around and seemed to settle on her next course of action. "I'm going to freshen up. I'll be back in a few minutes."

I watched as she turned and left the room. She grabbed her purse from the entryway, then walked up the stairs and disappeared into the darkness. I thought about reminding her that there was a bathroom just down the hall, but guessed she wanted more privacy. After a beat, I stood and started washing the dishes.

I took a few minutes to clean the dishes and scrub the other pots and pans I'd left sitting in the sink. Everything was washed and dried and put away when I realized that Marnie had been gone for a while. Should I be worried? Should I go upstairs and check on her?

That was when I heard her coming down the stairs. I looked toward the sound and saw her, naked except for a white button down shirt she had taken from my closet. Just one button was done, leaving her breasts almost entirely exposed, along with a wisp of pubic hair when the shirt fluttered. Her hair was pulled back in a pony tail. And it looked like she had freshened her red lipstick, or maybe that was just from the wine.

Before I could say anything, she took the lead. "Hi honey, welcome home. I missed you today." She stepped toward me and wrapped her arms around me, pressed her cheek against my chest, then leaned back, went up on her toes and kissed me. It started as a soft peck on the lips, but slowly increased in passion, our lips parting, tongues exploring each other. While we kissed my hands moved around her, across her back, down to her ass.

She ended the kiss and added "I wish you told me you were gonna be home from work so late. I really, really missed you today." I got it now. She wasn't Marnie the actress; she was the other Marnie, the housewife, dutifully waiting for her husband and eager to please him. I gave a silent thanks to whatever higher power might be listening.

"If I knew you'd greet me like this, I'd have cancelled everything and been home hours ago." I gave her another quick kiss before she spun out of my arms and leaned back against the kitchen counter, facing me and showing herself to me.

"You must be hungry. Is there anything I can get for you?" She punctuated the question by undoing the last button on her shirt, my shirt.

I stepped to her and lifted her up onto the counter. Standing between her legs, I let my hands move down her thighs and leaned in, kissed her neck, licked her ear lobe, whispered "What did I ever do to deserve such a beautiful, perfect wife?"

My kisses moved back down her neck, and I heard her whisper "You know how much I love being your beautiful, perfect, filthy, slutty wife. Take me..."

I lowered myself to my knees and kissed her thigh. She spread her legs wide and moved a hand to the back of my head, pulling me into her. I eagerly licked her, loving the sound of her groaning, loving her taste and the way the red curls tickled my nose.

I was interrupted by her next revelation. "I have another surprise for you, but we have to go to the bedroom to get it."

I stood and gave her a quick kiss on the lips. "Is it my birthday?" I jokingly asked.

"You wish... what I have planned for your next birthday will blow you away..." She hopped off the counter and ran up the stairs, leaving me to wonder what that meant. I soon followed, turning off lights in my wake.

In the bedroom she was standing next to the night stand, waiting for me. She gazed at me and was biting her lip in anticipation. I stepped to her and ran my hands along her arms, feeling her skin through the material of my borrowed shirt. But really it was her shirt now; I wouldn't ever be able to see it as anything else. She started pulling at my sweater and together we lifted it over my head. Then she unbuttoned my jeans and tugged them down. That's when she spoke up.

"After you left this morning, I was laying in bed, touching myself, like usual, and I was thinking about our honeymoon, how much fun we had, all the new things we did." Her hand wrapped around me and started stroking, eliciting an audible groan, which she relished. She used her foot to lower the rest of my clothes to the floor, and I gently stepped out of them without breaking contact with her.

"I was thinking about how I wish I was still a virgin when we were married, how wonderful it would have been to give myself to you." With that, I groaned again. I heard her make a similar noise, so I looked down at her and saw that her free hand was in her shirt, playing with one of her nipples.

Before I could yes-and her scenario, she continued. "But then I thought that there was something I could still give you, something that no one has ever had before. I feel kinda silly for not doing this a long time ago.

"Honey, I want you to take my anal virginity. Tonight. Now. I want you to fuck my ass. Will you please fuck your slutty wife in the ass? Please baby?"

Now it was my turn to respond. "Babe, you know I've wanted to do that for years, but you've always been so nervous. Are you sure you're ready now?"

"Yes!" she shouted. "I'm ready. I want it so bad... just promise you'll be gentle."

"I promise." I leaned down and kissed her, then pushed my shirt back off her shoulders. She released me and let the shirt fall to the floor, then crawled onto the bed, getting onto her hands and knees, looking back at me. She nodded toward the nightstand and I noticed a bottle of anal lubricant that she had strategically placed there. I picked up the bottle and moved behind her.

I knelt and pressed myself against her, letting my stiff cock rest between her cheeks. I leaned forward and pressed my chest against her back. I nuzzled her neck and whispered "so glad I married such a naughty girl."

She pushed back against me and between gasps begged "promise you won't tell your friends... I want to be your secret whore."

"It'll be our secret." I kissed my way down her back, slid my tongue across her virgin asshole, then pressed it in firmer, making her moan.

I opened the bottle and squeezed some lube into my hand, then spread it over my cock. I squeezed out more and slowly, methodically spread it over her asshole. She squealed and groaned at the sensation. I slipped my finger into her up to just the first knuckle. She inhaled sharply and held her breath. I held my finger in place, twisting it but not moving it in deeper, then quickly pulled it out. That caused her to gasp and her entire body to lurch forward. Then she giggled. "Fuck yes! I am so fucking ready."

I repositioned then pressed my tip into her, letting it slowly slide in. I paused at the tip and listened to the assortment of gasps and grunts and groans. "How does it feel?" I whispered.

"I want more... I want more... I want all of it... go slow..."

I applied more pressure and slid in another inch. She gasped again and then caught her breath. After about 15 or 20 seconds she loudly exhaled and pushed back against me, taking me in another few inches. I paused to slide out a bit, apply more lube to both of us, then slide in further, deeper than before. Her noises were sounding less painful, more pleasurable, and soon she started rocking back and forth, pushing back against me a little more each time, taking me in deeper.

On the next stroke, I pushed further; I was now almost entirely in her, and her thrusting stopped so that I stayed deep in her, filling her.

She was surprisingly quiet, so I whispered "Does this feel ok?"

"Mmm... yes," she purred. "Your cock in my ass feels so much better than my dildo."

"You were practicing... naughty girl."

"Please don't be mad," she mockingly pleaded.

"Never. You know how much I love hearing about you touching yourself. Which is why I want you to play with your pussy now. While you do that, I'm going to fuck your ass. And I'm going to cum inside you."

"Fuck, yes!" she gleefully exclaimed. She moved her right hand between her legs and I heard her fingers penetrate her wet pussy. Taking that cue, I gripped her hips and slowly withdrew, until just my tip was inside her, then smoothly slid back into her. I continued in and out, meeting little resistance, and gradually increased in pace until we were both moaning and slapping into each other.

Her groaning grew in volume and intensity, and I slowed while her orgasm hit. I felt her body squeeze me, heard her gasp, heard the squelching of her fingers inside her, felt the wetness spread across her thighs.

I leaned forward, pressing myself against her back, reached a hand around and placed it on top of hers, holding her hand against her pussy and sliding my fingers into her to work aside her own. I whispered in her ear "don't stop," and helped to bring about a second, louder orgasm. I kept myself inside her, not moving, but thoroughly enjoying the pulsing around me as the orgasms came in waves.

We continued like that for as long as she could manage, until she collapsed beneath me flat on the bed, giving one more loud squeal as I slid out of her. I rolled next to her and reached over, caressed her cheek, listened as she worked to regain control of her breath.

Soon she was curled up next to me, her cheek on my chest, my arm around her. We lay like that for a while, nearly drifting off to sleep. After a while she quietly whispered, "can I use your shower?"

"Of course," I replied. "Mind if I join you?"

"I was hoping..."

"I'll warm it up. Take your time." I kissed her forehead and slipped out of the bed. I entered the bathroom, started the water, and found two clean towels for us, placing them within reach of the shower. I stepped into the shower, a large walk in shower with glass door and floor to ceiling tile that I'd done myself, and once the temperature was just right I started to wash myself. A minute later the shower door opened and Marnie joined me, taking the sponge from me and pressing her body against mine.

She wordlessly washed me, focusing on my genital area. I was still at half mast, and her washing brought about further stiffening, which fascinated her. At her insistance, I turned and she gave my back the same level of scrubbing, keeping her non-sponge hand wrapped around me and steadily stroking.

Now it was my turn. I took the sponge from her, reloaded it with body wash gel, and got to work on her back, starting with her shoulders and working my way down. She maintained a low groan as I washed her, raising in pitch when I moved to her ass. When her back was clean, I moved against her and reached around her to provide the same level of scrubbing to her front, keeping my lips against her neck and shoulder.

We stood under the warm water for a while, holding each other, then wordlessly agreed that it was time for the shower to end. I stopped the water and handed her a towel. As we dried, we watched each other, and she spoke up. "Sorry you didn't finish."

That caught me by surprise, and I replied "Oh, no, no need, that was wonderful. Did you...?"

She rolled her eyes. "Well, yeah, obviously! Like, a lot... It was amazing..."

We kissed again then went to find our clothes.

On the drive back to her hotel, she kept her hand on my thigh, gently rubbing me. "I lied to you earlier," she said by way of confession.

I suspected as much, sensing that she had done THAT before, but not wanting to ruin the role play by calling her out. She continued, "When I said that I had turned down all those nude scenes I'd been offered, that wasn't completely true."

Not the confession I was expecting, but intriguing nonetheless.

"When I was 20, in college, over spring break, I drove to Toronto and took an acting job. It was a tv show, Bliss, Canada's version of Red Shoe Diaries. Softcore porn for a female audience. Written and produced by women. It paid for a year of school." I hadn't ever heard of it, but let her continue.

"I played a college student who lets her professor tie her up, blindfold her, and have his way with her."

I did some mental math. "You were way ahead of the 50 Shades bandwagon."

"Yeah, luckily. It was season 4 of the show, and for some legal rights reasons, season 4 never made it to streaming. I don't think it ever got released on DVD either, just VHS. It's not on my IMDB page, obviously. I don't even remember the stage name I gave them. Anyway, I did show my tits, and my ass, and a few brief glimpses of my pussy. But it has been mostly forgotten to the world."

She gave my thigh another squeeze, then added "now you and my agent are the only ones who know that secret."

I made a mental note to scour the internet for some copy of that episode, but only told her "Your secret is safe with me."

"I know..."

We pulled up in front of her hotel and shared another kiss. She looked around, expecting what? Papparazi? Then she slipped out of the car and entered her hotel.

Act 3

We had left unspoken when or if I'd hear from her again. Sure, I had her number and could text her any time, but our arrangement seemed to be structured differently, that the expectation was that I'd be available for her, not the other way around. So I did my best to keep cool about the lack of messages.

Besides, it took all the restraint I could muster to wait a full two days after our last encounter before I started searching for her lost episode of Bliss. My first few hours of searching proved her right; the first three seasons were easily located, but season 4 seemed to not exist. I watched a few of the earlier episodes anyway, finding them immensly corny and very much soft core, but still better written and produced than the average Cinemax fare that got me through my pre-internet adolescense.

I switched my focus to finding any VHS copies that might be for sale, deciding that there was no limit to how much I'd pay. But that was another dead end. I thought you could find anything on Ebay, but no such luck.

Just as I was contemplating how I could ask a more computer-savy friend for directions to access the Dark Web, I got a lead. I stumbled upon written episode synopses of all Bliss episodes, including season 4. The summary for season 4, episode 7 read:

"Evelyn's crush on her Psychology professor takes a dark turn as he reveals his true desires. The tour of his personal, private dungeon titilates her, but will she let things go too far and lose herself?"

The episode was titled "Life Lessons." Included next to the synopsis was what I assumed to be a still frame from the episode. Unfortunately, it didn't show the face of the actress. Instead, it showed a closeup of the man in profile, kissing and nuzzling his cheek against a woman's leg clad in a black nylon stocking.

Armed now with an episode name and number, I continued my search, still coming up empty. I even tried an image search using the still frame, hoping to find more images from the episode, but that was equally fruitless.

After a few days, I gave up any hope of finding her episode, but took solace in knowing that I had experienced the real thing, which was so much better.

The weekend that followed was notedly Marnie-free. On Saturday I finished up with yard work, set up a few Halloween decorations in the front yard, and otherwise got ready for winter. That night I babysat my nephew so that Kat and her husband could have a date night. I stuffed him full of pizza and we played video games until half an hour after his bedtime. Then I sat on the couch and streamed Hard Habit on my phone until Kat arrived home and relieved me. Sunday was spent between the couch and the treadmill, football playing on the tv all day. Then it was back to work on Monday.

I noted the calendar and wondered when Marnie's movie shoot ended. It may be later that week, or it may have wrapped early, although I was hopeful that she'd at least say goodbye. So I was genuinely excited on Thursday afternoon when I got a text.

"I'm done for the day, can I see you tonight?"

I responded right away. "I'm available. My place or yours?"

"Pick me up at my hotel, 6:00, I'll be outside."

I mentally shut down and coasted through the rest of my workday. Right at 6 I pulled up in front of her hotel, and she immediately bounded out the front door and got into my car, giving me a quick peck on the cheek before buckling in.

"Where to?" I asked.

She held up her phone with the name and address of a nearby pizza place, Little Nikita's. I'd heard of it and knew where it was but hadn't been there myself. "Best reviewed pizza place in the area, I was hoping to check it out. Sound ok?"

I was already pulling away from the curb when I answered "Absolutely, I wouldn't turn down pizza."

"Great, my treat." She put her hand on my thigh as I drove and she complained about the cold.

We arrived a few minutes later and, even though the place was nearly full, we were quickly seated. I wondered if anyone there recognized her, if she'd be worried about anyone taking her picture, our picture, but she seemed to not have a care in the world.

Once seated and having settled on our food choices, I asked her about the movie. "We did all the major action shots over the past 4 days. Sure, the stunt people got it worse, but I was still so sore when I woke up this morning. I really just wanted to spend the day laying in bed and not moving. But today was a light day for me, and last shot is tomorrow morning. Wrap party is tomorrow night, then I fly out Saturday." With that announcement, she tightened her lips and cocked her head, giving me that look expressing part disappointment, part relief.

I nodded, resigned to the inevitability, then asked, "What's next for you?"

"Actually, I have a meeting next Monday. I wasn't sure about it at first when my agent told me about it, but the idea has been growing on me." The waitress interrupted just then, delivering our drinks and quickly disappearing.

When we were alone, she continued. "My agent put me up for a show on the Travel Channel. He said it would be really good to get my name out there, so that people would be able to match the face and name. It would be called Last Meals with Marnie Scott. I'd travel around the country, visiting the last or near-last locations of once thriving chain restaurants. I guess it's supposed to capture that last Blockbuster Video nostalgia."

"I think I would watch that show," I excitedly replied.

"My agent is insisting that my name be in the title, and that they promote the hell out of it. But they want to test me out. So on Monday I'm meeting with the producers at a Shakey's Pizza in L. A. They'll get to know me, and I'll get to improv some material at a pizza place that was my favorite as a kid."

"God! Yes! I remember the Shakey's that was near here. I'd go there all the time as a kid!"

"Me too, I had every birthday party there from 6 to 12. Then they closed. When I moved to L. A. I saw that there was still a bunch there and started eating there whenever I could."

"I haven't been to a Shakey's in 30 years, but I can still remember the smell. Yeah, I would definitely watch that show. And if you're the host, even better." At this point we started rubbing our legs together under the table. The waitress delivered our pizza. It was good, but not as good as Shakey's.

We talked more, and laughed, and had a few more drinks. We left the restaurant and I drove her back to her hotel, not sure if I was parking and joining her, or just dropping her off. When I neared the front door she directed "pull over here." She reached into her pocket and pulled out a key card. She handed it to me and said "Park, take your time, and let yourself in to room 607 in ten minutes." She kissed me, jumped out of the car, and quickly disappeared into the hotel.

Well that was unexpected. I checked the time, then drove away. I found a parking garage two blocks away and parked. I walked back to the hotel, then lingered in the lobby for a few minutes, freshening up in the bathroom, before taking the elevator up to the 6th floor. I queitly made my way down the hall, didn't encounter anyone, and without knocking I used the keycard to open the door, being sure to quickly close and lock it behind me.

The room was dark and quiet, except for one dim lamp on the nightstand next to the bed. I peered in and saw Marnie on the bed, naked except for a black blindfold and black thigh high stockings. Her hands were bound above her head, her wrists wrapped in other nylon stockings making improvised restraints, the other ends tied to the bedframe. Her legs were loose, and she slowly writhed, rubbing her nylon clad legs together. I quietly studied her; I was sure that she had rigged this up before I picked her up and that she was able to easily slip her wrists through the loops, meaning that she'd be able to slip out too, if needed. But she wanted to be restrained, wanted to be at my mercy.

Neither of us spoke as I undressed and gazed at her. I noticed something else then. The red curls were gone, shaved away, leaving her pussy bare and exposed.

Once I was naked, I moved toward the bed, extended one finger and gently placed it on her toe. I slowly slid my finger up her leg, loving the texture of the nylon and the soft rustling noise made by my finger rubbing against it. I slowed when I reached the top of her stocking, just as she spread her legs wide for me. I veered slightly and moved my finger across the bare skin of her upper thigh, slowing more when I reached her bare, smooth slit, tracing the length of it, eliciting a gasp when I moved past, over her stomach, between her breasts. I lingered on her neck, and she arched her back and groaned in response, then moved my finger to her lips. She opened her mouth and sucked in the tip of my finger, swirling her tongue around it and not letting go.

I moved my free hand to her own hand above her head and repeated the process, gliding one finger tip down the length of her arm, across her chest, pausing to swirl it around one of her nipples. This caused her to gasp and release my finger from her mouth. I stepped back and looked down at her again, watched her strain toward me, wanting more touch.

I moved toward the foot of the bed and knelt down. I pressed my cheek against her calf, letting my stubble scrape against the nylon. This was a wonderful sensation, so I repeated the motion, alternating cheeks, moving up her leg during the process. I moved between her legs, my cheek rubbing against her thigh, my breathing quickening. She let out a long, deep breath and her whole body shuddered. I took that as a positive sign, and inched closer to her pussy, letting my breath warm her and tease her. I watched her writhe beneath me, her hips raising toward me. I moved closer, close enough that her erstwhile pubic hair would be tickling my lips. I let out a gentle, cool breath on her clitoris and smiled as she squealed and shook beneath me.

I loved watching her, listening to her. I could have been happy spending the night teasing her, but I wanted more. I craved more. I wet the tip of my tongue and reached out, gently pressing it against her, slipping it between her lips. While I did that, my hands gripped her thighs and spread them wider, letting me move in as close as possible. Her body pushed back against me, trying to force more contact, but I slid back, keeping just the tip of my tongue as the contact point. She was now letting out a steady stream of "uh... uh... uh...," the closest either of us had come to saying an actual word since she exited my car.

I withdrew my tongue and wet it again, then spread her open with my fingers and slid my tongue fully into her. She let out a sharp gasp, followed by more grunting in time with my lapping tongue. My pace quickened, as did hers, and I slid my hands over her hips, up her body, finding her breasts and taking each nipple between thumb and forefinger. My fingers worked in time with my tongue, her grunts grew louder, and then the first orgasm hit. She held her breath and arched her back, pressing her pelvis roughly against my face. I kept my tongue against her and felt the wetness spread across my face, dripping down my chin. When I couldn't take any more I moved back and exhaled deeply, letting go of her nipples at the same time.

I withdrew from the bed completely and silently watched her as her chest heaved and thighs rubbed together, trying to prolong the sensation. I reached up to wipe my chin clean, then took myself in my hand and stroked myself. I took my time deciding what was next.

When her breathing had returned to normal, I moved back to the head of the bed, knelt next to her, and gently pressed the tip of my cock against her lips. She opened wide and eagerly took me in, but that's not what I wanted yet, so I quickly pulled back. I tried again, offering a wordless "shhhh" by way of explanation. This time she cautiously extended her tongue and softly licked at and suckled just the tip. I let out my own shiver and groan to show my approval.

My right hand moved to the top of her head, my fingers getting tangled in her curls. My left hand moved to her chin. I withdrew and gently pressed down on her lower jaw. She opened her mouth and I slid into her, now ready to truly fuck her mouth. My left hand then slid down to her neck, pausing to apply a gentle squeeze, then continued to trace a line over her breasts, down her stomach, ending between her legs, where two fingers slipped into her wet, pulsing pussy.

I started thrusting, increasing in force, my cock and fingers working at the same rhythm. The gurgling from her full mouth echoed the squelching from her pussy, and both were in rhythm with our grunts.

When I felt her nearing another orgasm, I pulled back again, stepping away from the bed. I watched her strain toward me, listened to her panting.

I moved to the foot of the bed, climbed between her legs, knelt and took her feet in my hands, raised them up over my shoulders. I grabbed a few extra pillows within reach and slid them under her ass. I slid into her in one smooth motion, pausing to take time to relish the feeling of her nylon clad leg against my skin, rubbing my cheek against her foot, taking her toes into my mouth.

I held her legs and thrust into her. She wriggled beneath me and was able to press her hands against the headboard, allowing her to push back against me, to take me in deeper. We were now wildly thrusting against each other, I slid into her without resistance. I released one of her legs and brought my hand between her legs, let my fingers dance over her clitoris while I penetrated her. She screamed out loud.

Inspiration struck and I quickly pulled out of her, moved to her mouth and slid past her open lips. She growled as she hungrily took me in her mouth and licked me clean. Then just as quickly I was back between her legs, thrusting into her again, touching her, teasing her, drawing out another orgasm. She clenched down on me, forcing me to hold still until her muscles relaxed. Once free, I started moving slowly again, in and out, bringing on another long lasting orgasm and low, animalistic growl.

I leaned forward, pressing my forehead against hers. I reached a hand around the back of her head and held her in place. We groaned and exhaled into each others mouths, both past the point of any modesty or inhibition. I could feel my mind going completely quiet, no thoughts dwelling on anything other than Marnie, how she looked, tasted, felt.

I felt the tingling sensation spreading across my body and I knew that the end was near. Without hesitation I pulled out of her and pressed my cock against her lips. She opened her mouth but didn't take me in. With a loud groan I covered her lips and chin, then a second spurt went mostly in her mouth. A third covered her cheek and splashed on her blindfold. Now her lips wrapped around me, her tongue coaxing out every last drop. I realized that I had a tight fist of her hair, and immediately released it, concerned that I was hurting her.

I let out another loud groan and hesitated to withdraw, loving the sensation of her tongue massaging me. Eventually she opened her mouth and released me. I moved back, kneeling on the bed next to her. I looked down at her, scanning her from her toes to her hands, still bound up above her head. I reached down and gave another caress to her nylons. I realized I never wanted to stop touching her.

I slid my hand up her body and wiped my cum from her neck and chin. She opened her mouth and I let her lick my finger clean. I swiped up more from her cheek and she repeated the cleanup. I leaned down and silently kissed her forehead.

I stood next to the bed and slipped the nylon restraints from her wrists. She pulled her arms down and hugged herself, raised her knees up to he chest, and rolled onto her side facing me. She didn't remove the blindfold, and neither of us had yet said a word.

I weighed my options. I could lay next to her, wrap my body around hers, and we could drift off to sleep together. I could pull off her blindfold, ask her if she was ok, if she enjoyed herself, if she came. Or I could take the path of any good performer and leave her wanting more.

I quietly got dressed, then moved back to the bed. She hadn't moved. I ran my hand along her leg one more time, then leaned in and softly kissed her lips. She smiled. I reached over to the nearby lamp and turned it off, leaving us both in the dark. Then I made my way to the door and exited her room, making sure that the door closed behind me.

I was halfway back to my car when my interior monologue started screaming at me. Should I have stayed? Was she at that moment cursing me and showering away any remnant of me? Did I leave her thinking I was just another asshole using her to increase his bodycount? Or did I fulfill her fantasy? Did I give her exactly what she wanted, nothing more, nothing less? I wondered if I would ever talk to her again, ever see her again, ever touch her again...

Epilogue

In May of 2025, the Travel Channel started running commercials for Last Meals with Marnie Scott, premiering Memorial Day. Her adorable smiling face was broadcast seemingly every 15 minutes for months. The premier had her carving roast beef at one of the last remaining Rax Restaurants in Lancaster, Ohio. The next episode had her imitating the pose of the last Happy Chef statue outside the lone remaining Mankato, Minnesota location. The show was a summer hit, it's 16 episodes being re-run constantly on the Travel Channel, Food Network, and Discovery Channel, and was credited in helping to revive a few nearly extinct chains.

While those episodes aired, she was already filming her next movie, a loose remake of Heaven Can Wait, in which she costars as the James Mason to Bryce Dallas Howard's Warren Beatty. It was titled Better Red than Dead (playing up the ginger angle) and is scheduled to be released next February as a date movie that will hopefully appeal to all genders.

In September 2025, she was off to shoot the next season of Last Meals. The producers, however, did give her a week off to promote the October release of The Devil's Playpen, which her movie was re-named after the lost lawsuit brought by the rightsholders to Rosemary's Baby. It was released in all major cities nationwide, with a modest amount of promotion, and did relatively well. Reviews were solid, with most agreeing that it would have benefitted from doing more to earn its R rating.

After the premier, she went right back to Last Meals, which prevented her from attending our 25 year high school reunion the next week. I wasn't exactly keen on attending myself, but my friends Sue and Benji insisted I go with them, and Sue even agreed to be my designated driver for the night so that I could self medicate as needed.

The afternoon of the reunion, Kat stopped by unannounced with a gift. She'd located my senior yearbook in a box in her garage. She left it on my kitchen counter, and it was still there, unopened, when I left for the party.

The night was filled with awkward mingling and the constant checking of name tags since I didn't recognize anyone. After a few hours, the organizer of the night, also our former student council president, gave a short speech, then presented a short video acknowledging our classmates who'd passed away. That was followed by a video from another classmate who'd gone on to play Division 1 college football, spent a couple years on a bench in the NFL and was now an assistant coach for the New York Jets, lying to us all by telling us he wished he could be there in person.

After that was another video, from another accomplished class member. Marnie sat in a booth in a restaurant, wearing a blue denim jacket and faded gray tshirt. She had a giant smile on her face.

"Hi everyone! I really wish I could be there tonight, but I'm here in Oregon filming an episode of my Travel Channel show Last Meals. They're making me plug the show in exchange for using their camera to make this video... sorry.. but please watch." The crowd gave a polite laugh. She continued, "It was so great to be back in town last year. I really liked getting to see people and catch up, and I promise when I'm back in town next I'll be in touch. I know it's a cliche, but the connections we make when we're teenagers really do last a lifetime and really do shape who we are. I'm so glad I had the experiences that I had, and I really do miss you." She blew a kiss to the camera and gave a wink, then added, "Bye, have fun tonight!"

Honestly, I wasn't paying too much attention to what she said. I was focusing on her chosen location, the mise-en-scene. On the wall of the restaurant behind her and to her right, perfectly placed in frame, was a hand painted sign reading "The best poutine I've ever had." I wanted to think that was intentional, and I let myself get wistful for just a moment.

The alcohol and adrenaline battled all night, and when I was returned home I immediately went into the kitchen and opened my fridge, deciding that a midnight snack would really hit the spot. I did the responsible thing and settled on a bottle of water. Then I noticed the yearbook still sitting there. I sat down and opened the front cover.

The inside front and back cover, and first and last pages were filled with signatures and messages from well wishers from 25 years ago. I struggled to read some of the scribblings, but realized that I didn't recognize the names of any of the first few notes I'd read. I flipped a page and read more, then realized what had happened. This wasn't my senior yearbook; it was Kat's freshman yearbook. She must have gotten them mixed up.

I flipped another page and saw a familiar name. I moved closer, squinted, and read the whole message:

"It was so fun working with you this year. Stick with it, you'll be awesome! And tell your brother to take a hint and stop playing hard to get! LUV U! Marnie Schuppner"

I considered the message for a minute, then closed the book. I turned off the lights and headed up stairs. I checked my phone and wondered what time it was in Oregon.