Thread: Inside Power Exchange [GypsyRose & Dane Stalling]

The shirt had been worth every penny of what she'd paid for it, even if it had stretched her budget a little more than she had wanted for a used ... or, rather, repurposed, recycled ... garment. Matt seemed to be more interested than he would have been if she'd worn her lowest-cut blouse, teased by the more subtle hints of shape and her own growing excitement. She was very much 'on', the fuse lit by a heady combination - an awakened interest in the subject, an attraction to her co-star, and the easy acceptance of the rest of the crew, and she chatted and laughed with ease. Beyond the ease was something more that had nothing to do with anyone else at the table other than Matt. An attraction to someone she worked with was less common than most assumed. From her first drama class, she'd gleaned that it was trouble. The girls, and guys, who auditioned for a part not because they wanted to act, but because they wanted to be seen or capture the eye of the class instructor or a co-star never added anything to a production and usually just made it harder for the rest to cover for them in an attempt to keep their presence from being a detraction. Regan had steered clear of that sort of thing, cultivating a professionalism that she hoped made her actual 'talent' rather than a pretty TA holder that got the part based on somebody's juvenile wet dream. It had been mostly easy before, but with Matt, the attraction was as strong as it had been immediate, and she didn't have to act when she felt his fingers trace down the bare skin of her back. She felt it, head to toes and everywhere in-between, an electric hum that seemed as if there ought to have been sparks flashing at the connection point. It took a few seconds to process that she'd let Kelly's question go unanswered a heartbeat or two too long, and that the sparks between them might not have been visible, but it had definitely been noticed -- and at least part of that was due to the very visible jut of her nipples against the jade fabric, visible confirmation for anyone paying close enough attention of just how Matt's touch affected her. The stroke of his hand hadn't been tentative, or accidental. It had been very natural, and also ... claiming, and far from being insulted or bothered, Regan felt unaccountably elated, particularly when he leaned forward spoke against her ear, his breath warm and soft, the brush of his lips feather-light or perhaps a product of her own imagination, her little purr of appreciation lost in the whistles and commentary ... but perhaps not totally. For all of us, I hope, Regan found breath enough to answer, though right now it wasn't about the money, or even the chance at a moment of fame. Fortunately, the demand that they start with shooters hadn't developed into an outright attempt to get the talent drunk, so she could sip on her bottle of hard lemonade and smile enigmatically, which everyone seemed to accept with a laugh or snort. Her heart beat faster as the little gathering broke up, but settled as Matt made no move to leave. Talking to him was easy, so easy that she was more than a little startled when the staff started displaying hints that it was time for them to relinquish the table for a more thorough cleanup. Everything was squared away, neatly, courtesy of the crew and then Matt, but the last thing she wanted to do was go home ... at least alone. That Matt seemed to agree brought a slightly fuzzy smile, courtesy of the drinks, but one that was completely sincere. A walk sounds perfect. That wasn't all that was perfect. Her light jacket over the backless top provided a perfect cover, a perfect invitation, for Matt's hand to rest against her skin, the perfect slow burn for her to offer encouragement both subtle and more daring. How it happened, she wasn't sure ... or was it that she just preferred not to think about it too closely in case it spoiled something that seemed quite spontaneous, quite natural? Either way, she really wasn't that surprised to find that their walk led them to mostly dark building where the set was for their shoot. Casually, almost innocently, she looked up at Matt, her smile offering a little challenging, tipsy encouragement as she found herself suggesting what had been playing softly in the back of her mind like particularly effective mood music, so soft as to seem casual and unobtrusive. Hey, do you think there's anybody in there? Someone who might let us in if we'd forgotten something earlier?