Space in Your Sheets.

One of the gifts of being a self-proclaimed “sexpert” is that I didn't have to worry about what I looked like in the morning. After so many mornings waking up in a stranger's bed without a hairbrush or make-up remover in sight, I'd mastered how to naturally achieve tousled hair and smudgy eyes without looking like a hot mess.

So when I rolled over the next morning to this mystery guy, I wasn't concerned. He was still pleasantly asleep, his hair sticking up in a couple places and sheets twisted around his fit frame. I took advantage of the sun pouring into my hotel room, letting myself drown in California's warmth while I studied the tone of his muscles.

“See something you like?”

My eyes snapped up to the smirking boy, his golden eyes alight with a devilish charm.

“If I do, does it mean I can have it?” I answered smoothly, subtly dragging a finger along the chisel of his torso.

“Only if I get what I'd like too,” he murmured, the heat of his breath brushing my ear and sending my mind into a lusty haze.

The sensation of his teeth nipping at my neck was all it took for my head to turn, my lips hungrily crashing into his. I rolled onto my back, my lips never leaving his as he moved to hover above me, the sheets of my hotel bed the only thing that separated our skin and the soft moans between us filling the space.

He was an expert with his tongue, teasing me as he trailed down my jawline and my throat, lingering at my collarbones before continuing lower to my breasts. A gasp escaped my lips as he took one of my nipples between his lips and teased it, toying with my breasts while my hands roamed his body, desperate for any way to relieve the sexual frustration building inside of me.

I dug my fingers into his hair, tugging him back up and forcefully reconnecting our lips, my hands on fire as they made their way around his body, taunting him as he taunted me moments before. Flipping so he was on bottom, I let my lips work their way down his chest, pausing to tease his nipples with both my tongue and my fingers, then continue lower. He let out a low moan as I kissed my way around his cock, taking a moment to drag my tongue along the shaft, savoring the way he trembled at my touch. I continued to lick and suck my way around, only allowing the one lick to actually touch it, using my hands to torture the rest of his being into wanting to fuck me, hard. He was gently tugging on my hair as I worked, the hums and moans tumbling from his lips proving to me that what I was doing was working.

A sharp tug on my hair sent me back up, his lips reconnecting with mine while one hand tangled in my hair and the other teased my body, the tension in my muscles pure ecstasy from anticipation. He unexpectedly slipped a finger into me, eliciting a louder, breathy moan out of me. His golden eyes were dark with passion, adding another finger in before curling them, relishing how my body moved in response.

“Fuck,” I hissed, bucking my hips up to meet his touch.

He stopped, using his free hand to steady me before moving his thumb to my clit, tracing circles with the calloused thumb and pulling another moan out of me.

He flipped over again, holding my legs apart as he kissed his way back down, this time using his tongue to torture my clit with the most agonizing pleasure that only morning sex could bring. He started slow, letting his tongue subtly do the work before picking up the intensity, slipping his fingers back inside me and thrusting.

The build up had me writhing in ecstasy, my moans becoming louder with each wave of pleasure. My legs wrapped around him, unable to control my reactions as I suffered the most blissful tongue-lashing I'd had in ages. This guy was really a master in bed, and I wanted more. But first, I wanted my turn to make him scream.

Right as I was about to hit the edge, he pulled away, a dark smirk covering his features. He kissed and sucked his way back up my body, reconnecting his lips with mine and letting me taste a hint of myself in his kiss.

I took advantage of the change in pace, rolling so I was on top before letting my tongue glide down his body, smirking to myself as I stopped just above his cock and earned a desperate moan. He was beyond hard, making it easy for me to get him reeling. Taking the head in my mouth, I began to pump, using my hands to complement the sensation by cradling his sack.

“Holy fuck,” he groaned, clutching the sheets next to him.

His hips began to buck from the sensation, low grunts and desperate moans coming from him as he came closer to his peak. Smirking to myself I picked up my game, taking him deeper into my mouth and humming as I continued.

“Oh god, fuck, yes!” He shouted, his eyes rolling back from the pleasure.

I could just start to taste him, so I waited until he was quivering on the edge before stopping, suddenly letting go before coming up and kissing him so lightly, so gently that the sensation of our lips touching was barely felt over the anticipation. He moved to capture my lips again, but I moved too quickly, leaning up to his ear and nipping the edge.

“Fuck me. Hard.” I whispered in his ear, not bothering with subtleties.

He didn't have to be told twice, grabbing me and throwing me back onto the bed before climbing on top, only pausing to put a condom on before diving in. He felt good last night when I was drunk, but now when I was sober, the sex was even better. He was harder than a rock, his thrusts forceful as he braced himself above me, my hands unable to stay away as he pounded into me. I captured his lips again before reaching down and grabbing his ass, giving a little extra push as I wrapped my legs around him again.

He moaned into a kiss, heightening my own pleasure as he moved. It didn't take long before both of our moans were echoing off the walls, the pleasure building in waves as I came close and closer to coming.

“Fuck!” I cried out, on edge and just moments away from cumming so hard I wouldn't be able to walk straight.

I could feel his body tensing as he approached his own climax, a moan catching in his throat as I finally went over the edge, my body on fire and my moans loud as I finally came. He was only moments behind, his entire figure shuddering as he hit his release, the noises escaping him loud as he finally peaked, making the moment even hotter for me.

We both collapsed into the sheets, the sounds of heavy breathing filling the room as we came down from our high. He rolled off of me, chest rising and falling as a flush rose to both of our cheeks.

“Shit,” he breathed, “That was fun.”

“That was great,” I agreed, still trying to catch my breath.

Looking over at the clock, I realized it was time for me to get ready to meet my agent for a meeting. I sighed, pulling myself out of bed and strolling over to my suitcase. I could feel his eyes following me as I moved, tracing over my naked figure as I pulled out an outfit for the day, turning to face him while getting dressed.

“Not to be a dine-n-dash, but I have to meet with my agent soon...” I told him, “So you should probably go.”

“Yeah, I should get back to the guys anyways.” He shrugged, rolling out of bed and gathering his clothes from the floor. “But, if we both happen to be in the same place at the same time again, we should do this again. No commitment, just some fun?”

My mind instantly shot to 'no,' because saying otherwise would break my own personal code. I never agreed to hooking up in the future, knowing that it would lead down a slippery slope to things getting messy and feelings getting involved. However, my mind decided not to connect with my lips, and I found myself uttering words that I never thought I'd say:

“Yeah, that sounds great.”

He smiled, pulling on his boxers before shimmying into his jeans. On the outside, I looked like my usual cool, collected self. But on the inside, I was freaking out. I had never agreed to this before, but it couldn't be all bad, right? I mean, it was some of the best sex I'd ever had, which was saying something. I was simply assuring that I would have more great sex in the future. Easy enough, right?

I grabbed my cell phone from the bedside stand, figuring I may as well go big or go home.

“What's your number?”

He relayed the digits, pausing at the end for a split second before speaking again. “And it's Kennedy, by the way.”

“Hmm?” I looked up at him, cocking an eyebrow in confusion.

“My name's Kennedy. Kennedy Brock... I- uh, I just realized I never told you last night.” He blushed, nervously rubbing the back of his head.

“Oh,” I chuckled. “well, I didn't tell you mine either. It's Ava. Ava Tucker.”

“Great. I guess that's a good thing to know.” He laughed, slipping his t-shirt over his head before grabbing his flannel and pulling that on as well.

I grabbed my purse from the floor, tossing my phone into the bag before finding some sunglasses and quickly fixing my hair in the mirror. While I did that, Kennedy grabbed the rest of his things from the room, sliding his wallet into his pocket and putting on his shoes, surveying the room to make sure he had everything.

“Well Ava, it was nice to meet you, and this was fun, but I've gotta go.” Kennedy smiled, revealing his gap-toothed grin.

“Likewise. See you when I see you?” I responded, looking over to the doorway where he lingered.

“Sounds like a plan.”

And just like that, Kennedy Brock was gone.



“So, how did your callbacks go yesterday?” Mark asked, devouring his sandwich as he sat across from me at some unknown bistro in downtown Los Angeles.

Mark, my agent, seemed pretty typical: early thirties, always dressed in a well-fitting suit and tie. Mark was probably captain of his football team in high school, typical all-american good looks lingering even with his age. But the thing about Mark was that he was a master at what he did-- he could work a room like nobody's business, setting up his actresses with connections no matter where they wanted to go or what they wanted to do.

Of course, Mark was picky about who he worked for. Mark never picked actresses with a lot of money in their families, knowing that this industry could be bought out so easily. Mark also was a sucker for the actresses who “came from nothing” to follow their passions. So when Mark and I met, he took a liking to me. After all, I had all of the things necessary to become an icon of the American dream: I grew up in a tiny farm town, I sacrificed my family life and stability to pursue my dreams, but I worked and saved my way up to moving across the country so I could start acting. I got my first part, met Mark at an event, and the rest, as they say, was history.

“They were fine,” I casually answered, picking at my salad.

This was a typical meeting for us. He would pick some little restaurant to grab lunch at, always devouring some huge meal. I always ended up dissecting a salad, pushing it around on my plate to make it appear as though I ate something while he talked my ear off, unaware that I had taken one bite of food during our entire encounter. I honestly hated salad, but there was an unwritten rule that anyone who was trying to make it had to be on a very strict diet in order to meet industry standards, so I sucked it up and picked apart the green pile of leaves on my plate. After all, I was an actress; if I couldn't act like one how was I supposed to get any parts?

“Just fine?” Mark pressed, his brown eyes staring at me as if I was going to drop a bomb at any moment.

“Yeah. I mean, they went well enough.” I shrugged, sliding a piece of lettuce around with my fork. “I imagine I'll make it into the next round of selections.”

“Now that's what I want to hear!” He clapped his hands together, grinning. “You've got an advantage over the other girls, having been on Broadway already. I wouldn't be surprised if you end up getting a lead in one of these shows.”

“We can only hope,” I quietly smiled, taking a sip of my water. “I think that we'll cross that bridge when we get there though.”

“Of course, of course.” Mark quickly answered, dabbing at his mouth with a napkin. “Say, I've got some people I want you to meet. They're going to be producing a show that's looking for a star a lot like you, actually. Broadway experience, it'll be a comedy. It's a movie, actually. I think you'd really like it.”

“So when do I meet them?” I politely asked.

Usually when he did these things, it ended up being something I was neutral about. But it usually got me at least a little bit of work, and I always figured that someday he'd actually find something I'd like, so I always humored him and agreed to these social obligations.

“They're having an event tomorrow night, I'll bring you as my plus one and introduce you. I don't do this with my other girls, you know that right?” Mark teased, though I knew he was right-- his other actresses didn't get as much effort from him as I did. And while some people would be creeped out by his comments about “his girls,” I knew better: Mark was dating my co-actor when I first met him, so I knew right off the bat he was gay.

“I appreciate it, and I won't let you down.” I promised, giving Mark a satisfactory answer.

“That's my girl!” He grinned, taking one last swallow of his water. “Now, what's your schedule for the rest of the week?”

Pulling out my phone, I went into the calendar and looked at what was on the agenda for the next couple of days.

“I have callbacks this afternoon starting at two, tonight my friend's band is playing, then tomorrow morning I have another round of auditions. Tomorrow night is your event, then Friday and Saturday are left open for whatever comes up.” I answered, rattling off the events.

“Great! I'll send you more details about the event, it's black tie-- make sure you wear something that really shows off your body.” Mark informed me, ushering over a waitress and picking up our tab. “But for now, I have to go meet with my personal trainer-- supposedly he's got a hot friend who he wants to introduce me to, but I need all the gym time I can get before I try to woo any hotties that get my trainer's seal of approval.”

“Is your trainer a man of fine taste?” I joked, standing up and grabbing my purse.

“He picks men who look like George Clooney for me, so I can't complain.” Mark winked, standing from the table as well and hugging me. “Well, good luck with your callbacks! Let me know if anything interesting happens, and if I don't see you later today, I'm sure I'll see you tomorrow night!”

“Alright, I'll see you tomorrow.” I smiled at him, waving as I stepped out of the restaurant and into the blazing Los Angeles sun.

I could only pray that one of these parts worked out, having already grown tired of New York. It wasn't that I didn't like the Big Apple-- it was a cool city, for sure. But the Broadway scene wasn't where I wanted to be, competing with actresses who had swelled heads just because they could sing and act. Being multi-talented didn't make them that special, and the stuck-up, high-brow nature of everyone I worked with really pissed me off. It was a tough industry, there was no denying, but the lengths they went to in establishing their “presence” seemed too petty to make Broadway worth it.

Because of that, Los Angeles seemed like a great escape. Beret always told me the city of angels was really the city of devils, but I didn't care: she was busy staying true to herself and resenting fame, but I was tempted by the idea of getting lost in the glamour of Hollywood. She hated the superficiality of the city, but I loved it-- it was a different type of superficiality from New York. The actresses at least were friendly, and even though it was easy to get caught up in the image and the money and the parties and the lifestyles of the rich and famous, you could just make a comeback out of it and America would love you even more.

If I was going to make Los Angeles my new home, I had some work to do. And it started with these callbacks.