Katrina fires me a dirty look and comforts the shaking pup. “Poor baby, don’t let him scare you.”

Zoey cups her mouth to stifle her laughter. We exchange an eye roll. Score one for me.

Five minutes later, I’m back on the set. I’m wearing a bathrobe, monogrammed with my name, but beneath it I’m stark naked except for a flesh-colored cock sock. Jewel, in a similar bathrobe, joins me. Her hair coiffed, she looks ready to get started.

I spot Zoey. I’ve had a PA set her up in my folding chair by the director’s camera. I’ve told her the best way to watch the filming is on his monitor. Numerous cameras will be in play to capture different angles, including an overhead one on a crane and a handheld one for close-ups, but the director’s monitor captures the first cameraman’s master shot. In editing, they’ll splice together the various angles to make the scene dynamic and then later in post add sound effects and music.

Niall Davies, the episode’s wiry director, strides up to us. In addition to being the show’s Emmy-winning primary director, he’s married to Jewel, my co-star. They met on the set.

“Ready to rehearse the scene, my man?” he asks in his charming British accent.

“I don’t need to rehearse it. I’ve got it nailed.” I shoot Zoey a look. Our eyes connect. Smiling, she gives me a good luck thumbs up. Smiling back, I suddenly realize Katrina’s nowhere in sight. Maybe she took the damn dog for a walk. Just as well. The last thing I need is for the mutt to start yapping in the middle of my scene.

Niall turns to his wife. “Are you all right with that, gorgeous?”

Jewel smiles. “Let’s go for it, baby.”

Stripping off our bathrobes, we step into the already steamed up shower. Water sprays from the many overhead jets. In seconds, we’re soaked and in position.

“Quiet on the set,” shouts out the first AD.

The next three words are music to my ears. It’s as if I’ve heard them my entire life. Is my memory coming back?

“Lights. Camera. Action!”

Zoey

“Lights! Camera! Action!”

The words echo in my ears. I’m so wet I may stain Brandon’s canvas chair. When I first saw Brandon in the raw—just seconds ago—my jaw crashed to the floor and my heart almost rocketed out of my chest.

I’ve seen him in Speedos and tight jeans and I’ve given him massages in his boxers, but nothing’s prepared me for the sight of his manliness full on. Sure, he’s wearing some kind of flesh-colored sheath that wraps around his genitals like a bag of leprechaun’s gold, but it doesn’t camouflage his size. Holy mother of God! I mean, I knew he was endowed when I felt his hardness against me in the shower. But not this big. And his enormity is sans an erection.

Still in a state of shock, I soak in the rest of his body. It’s as if he’s been sculpted by an Italian master. A seamless combination of lean muscle and bronze with washboard abs, a perfect pelvic-V, long worked-out legs, and a chiseled ass that belongs in a museum. As the cameras start rolling, my temperature rises and hot tingles storm my body. I’m throbbing so hard between my legs I can hear it.

I can’t keep my eyes off him. My pupils dart back and forth between the director’s monitor and the set, a near replica of Brandon’s home bathroom. It’s bathed in a cloud of steam and sensually lit in a way that makes Brandon and Jewel glow like two ethereal lovers. Like the stars they are.

Under the powerful spray, Brandon and Jewel magically transform into the characters they play—CIA agent Kurt Kussler and his beloved wife Alisha. Alit with love and lust, Brandon holds his co-star in his arms just as he held me. After he tells her how sexy she is, he fondles her perfect, nipple-covered tits and nuzzles her long, slender neck. I relive every moment, every word. New sensations overtake me, both emotionally and physically. An unexpected bolt of envy shoots through me. Brandon and Jewel look so beautiful together. So comfortable in their skin; so comfortable with their nudity. So oblivious to the cameramen surrounding them. Passion dances in their eyes as the water pounds them. Their flesh glistens. The steam intensifies. I know they’re only acting, but every word, every action seems so real. I wonder—did Brandon ever fuck Jewel? With her blond goddess looks, she’s just his type. Are they possibly drawing from experience?

The thought fades as I watch the scene unfold on the monitor. I hardly blink my eyes as I glom on to every word. I know them so well they’re forming on my lips, and I hear myself saying them in my head. As Brandon sensuously touches Jewel in all the places he touched me, my breathing grows shallow. His moans and groans sing in my ears, causing a fresh rush of hot tingles to swarm me. I can’t stop reliving every minute of my shower with Brandon.

Every touch of his deft fingers.

Every brush of his hard body.

Every sound of his sultry voice.

Every pulse of his wondrous cock.

Any jealousy I harbor gives way to feverish lust and desire. You’re everything to me, Kurt. My breathing grows harsher, and my heart beats like a hammer. Every nerve in my body is sparking as a fire rages between my legs. I have the burning urge to touch myself. To quell the white-hot flame that’s searing every inch of my being. I squirm in the chair and cross my legs. My upper thighs stick together, slicked with wetness. I’m positive now I’ve stained Brandon’s chair. I feel faint like I may pass out any minute. Thank God, I’m sitting.

A thoughtful PA notices my condition.

“Can I bring you some water, Ms. Hart?”

“Yes, please,” I breathe out. “That would be great.”

Waiting for the water, I keep my eyes on the monitor and watch Brandon and Jewel heatedly play out the rest of the scene, making me believe the passion between Kurt and Alisha is so real. And then that kiss. That unforgettable kiss with his lips on mine, our tongues entwined in an erotic dance. Our bodies melded like one. Unable to erase the taste of him, I can’t watch anymore. I’m either going to melt or detonate. I jump off the tall chair and rush to the restroom. I dash into a stall and shove down my jeans. And finger myself until my lips silently cry out his name.

Brandon

“Oh, baby!” The final words of the scene tumble out of my mouth. I’m so close to coming, but one little word stops an orgasm of epic proportions.

“Cut!”

Emotionally drained and physically aroused, my head falls onto Alisha’s. Breathing hard, we hold each other, our soaking wet bodies slick against the other’s. It takes a long moment for the word to register. It’s not until some PA hops into the stall and turns off the pounding water. I slowly lift up my head and meet my co-star’s gaze. She’s no longer Alisha but Jewel.

Her wide-set blue eyes penetrate mine. “Brandon, that was amazing. You were amazing.”

My breathing calms. “So were you.”

“Thanks.” My technique worked. To get into the scene, I drew from experience. The most erotic shower experience I ever had. Or at least can remember.

Freeing herself, Jewel casts her eyes downward. My enormous erection stares her in the face.

She smiles playfully. “Brandon Taylor, did I give you a boner?”

I ponder her question for a few quick seconds. “No.”

Jewel laughs. But that’s the truth. Someone else did. While I acted out the scene, she was in my bloodstream, filling my mind and my heart. I tasted her sweetness and felt her soft curves against my body. Dripping wet, I step out of the shower and look for her. My eyes dart around the studio.