The Kiss

---

The strangest thing about the hotel room was waking up to silence.

Strangely, despite the stresses of the show weighing on her, Rebecca fell asleep quickly and didn't wake up once throughout the night. But as her eyes fluttered open in the morning, and struggled to adjust to how dark it was, she was struck by the peacefulness.

No begging for a last minute drive to a friend's house.

No demanding something elaborate for breakfast.

No requirement to get up and tidy, or prepare, or think.

That was it -- that was the main thing. She didn't have to think.

And whilst she did worry that Richard might need some help with the kids, she knew that he was more than capable.

After freshening from her shower, she got ready for the day ahead.

She had brought exactly two outfits with her for the trip. The one she had worn on the way there, and the dusty rose floral dress she had in her overnight bag. She wore it with her pearl necklace and the same shoes she had worn the day before.

Then there was just the simply question of what she was supposed to do until that evening.

Breakfast had already been paid for at the hotel, and so she went downstairs without any screaming, fighting children. Without Richard yanking her by the hand, insisting they hurry up -- she sat, and she ate whatever she pleased.

A bowl of yogurt and granola. A croissant. She even had a small plate of the hot food -- but not too much. She was supposed to be on TV later, of course.

Afterwards she headed out into the city, intending to go for a walk. She saw the black car waiting before her driver saw her.

"Mrs. Ashford," he called. Winding down the window. "Where would you like to go today?"

"Oh, I'm just out for a walk." She smiled pleasantly at him.

"Let me accompany you," he insisted. And so, she had him follow her along as she explored the city. Getting lost in the business, exploring the clothes shops and taking a particular interest in a small independent bakery.

Lunchtime came and went with a sandwich and a black coffee, then dinner rapidly approached, but by the time she was sitting down for an evening meal in the hotel she was losing her appetite.

Her driver came for her just before sunset.

"Are you happy with your outfit, Mrs. Ashford? If so, they're ready for you."

"I am." She nodded, too nervous to say anymore than that. She felt like her stomach was going to swallow her whole. Let's just get this over with.

The drive was pleasant enough. With the sun behind them, Rebecca enjoyed the sights and sounds of the city, and felt she could almost fall asleep. By the time they were arriving on set, she was totally relaxed.

As the door was opened for her, she stepped out and saw Mike Grayson waiting.

"You look amazing, Rebecca. Really." He touched her arm gently, leading her to the front door of what seemed to be an ordinary home. "We have an idea for how we want the show to be filmed. Intimate, is the idea. You'll head inside and meet James, and chat. He'll lead the way through everything."

"Oh," she said. "Are there any lines? Rehearsals?"

Mike laughed at that. "We're Real Reality TV. Nothing we do is rehearsed, sweetheart. Now when you're ready, just head inside, up the stairs, first door on the left."

She nodded, her lips pursed.

"Are you ready?"

She nodded a second time, unable to speak. He smiled. "You'll do great, kid."

He opened the door, then closed it behind her. The house was big, its furniture looked expensive, and new. She touched a bureau as she passed, marveling at how clean everything was. She was heading for what looked like the kitchen, when she remembered her instructions.

Gosh, I hope I'm not making a fool of myself already.

She headed up the stairs and took the first door on the left, stepping into a bedroom which made her gasp. It looked like it had been made for her, all rose gold and shades of pink -- she fit right in.

The only downside really was the great big sign on the wall which read BREAKING MRS. ASHFORD.

Standing waiting in the corner was perhaps the most handsome man she had ever seen.

He smiled at her, in an easy way. Not moving closer to her, letting her settle into the room.

"You look great, Rebecca," he said calmly. "Beautiful."

"Thanks," she replied, still taking in the room. "Are you James?"

"I am indeed, James Burn. Pleasure to meet you. Before I step into the shot, do you mind uh. They want a shot of you with the sign in the background."

He pointed to the end of the bed. She followed his finger, saw where he wanted her. She moved quickly into position.

"This camera here," he said. "Just, look into it, be as natural as you can." After a few brief moments he clicked his fingers. "Done, you can relax."

"Great. Does that mean I can go home now?"

He laughed. "If you want. Nobody is going to force you to stay, Becky."

That word, that little nickname, it sent a shiver up her spine. "Don't call me that."

"Sorry, Rebecca." James cleared his throat. "I'm kind of nervous too. This is a big gig for me."

"Really? You look like you could be an actor."

"I am, well. Something of an actor." He cleared his throat again. "Let's just focus on the scene, is that okay?"

"Yes... I have to kiss you."

He nodded his head. "Something like that. But can we talk first? It's better if we feel totally at ease."

"I don't think that's going to happen, but, sure. Let's talk."

He stepped towards her, not quite invading her space, and yet he did so naturally. Tall, broad shouldered. She looked up at him as he stood beside her.

"So, first things first," he began. "You need to tell me what kissing is like for you."

"Oh." She blinked at him. "Well, normally it involves... touching your lips together?"

"You're funny. Walk me through it. Your husband, he's home from work. Honey, I'm home, he says. Then you run down the hallway and kiss. Right?"

She shrugged. "Something like that." Suddenly she couldn't remember the last time her and Richard had kissed. "Usually when he's leaving for work, I'll walk him to the door, and we'll kiss there."

"How is it? Brief, long?"

"Long?" She shook her head. "What do you mean? We just kiss. This... I don't understand the question. You mean, dumb kisses like those Hallmark movies? Those aren't realistic."

James took a pause. Rebecca felt stupid again, like at the TV show. Like she didn't know something that everyone else did know.

I'll leave. Clearly I'm not good at that. I'm all wrong. I don't even know how to kiss. Why would they want me for this?

"Let's start there," he said. "Do you want to walk me to the door?"

She laughed nervously, then shook her head. "Maybe we should talk a little longer."

"What if we start somewhere else. I could kiss you on the cheek?"

She thought about that, hands absently playing with her dress without thinking about it.

"Sure, I think that would be fine."

He stepped toward her, and his smell overwhelmed her. He smelt sharp. She always imagined those fancy cologne adverts were just stupid, but as he stepped into her, she realized they were right on the money -- he smelled just like those stupid adverts, with their stupid handsome men, and their stupid big muscles, and their...

His hand delicately touched her shoulder as he leaned in, and as his lips touched her cheek, she thought she might faint.

"Oh my," she said as he pulled away.

His smile didn't waver, it was always there. Calm, warm. A friendly smile, like they were on the same team. His hand slid away from her shoulder.

"How was that?" he asked.

"Well, I suppose it... I suppose it was fine."

"Fine is good. Do you think you could walk me to the door now?"

"I... think I could." She nodded. "That'd be fine, too."

He took the lead, stepping confidently toward the bedroom door.

"I'll miss you honey," he said. "But blink, and I'll already be home."

"Oh, I guess I'll miss you too," she replied as she followed him.

"You guess?" He turned to face her at the door. "I hope you guess right."

She felt herself blushing, as she stood too far away for him to kiss her.

He didn't close the gap, and that just made her feel even safer.

"See you soon."

He stepped out into the hallway, closing the door behind him. A few beats later and he was stepping back in, laughing.

"Alright, now we're going to do it for real. Right?"

She nodded. "Yes, sorry. I guess I'm not good at this."

He touched her hand -- just for a second. "You're doing perfect, Becky."

She followed him to the end of the bed, not correcting the nickname this time. She followed him like a puppy, barking on cue.

"I'll miss you too," she said this time.

And when he arrived at the door, she was close enough.

He turned. His right hand found her left. His left hand found her waist. He pulled her toward him -- gently, controlling. His lips moved down, and she found herself moving to her tip toes to meet him.

The kiss was brief, barely a second, yet it left her breathless.

"Was that how you kiss your husband?" he asked.

She shook her head, then nodded. "It was close, I suppose. He doesn't normally say he'll miss me."

James laughed, then he stepped beyond her and moved to the bench at the end of the bed. Sitting, he patted it and invited her to sit beside him.

"Now, are you ready for a real kiss?"

"Well, what do you mean?" she asked as she stepped towards him, but didn't sit down yet. "That was a real kiss."

"No it wasn't." He patted the chair more insistently, and she found herself sitting right beside him.

"God, Becky. You look beautiful tonight."

"Rebecca," she corrected firmly. "Or Mrs. Ashford."

"Rebecca," he said. "Stunning. Normally when you kiss, you look into each others eyes."

He turned to face her properly, leaning over her. His eyes never leaving hers.

"You stare into them like you're having a silent conversation. Talk to me with your eyes.

She did.

Though she didn't know what she was saying.

"Is it okay if I kiss you?" he asked.

She didn't say anything, then she nodded.

"Properly?" he added.

She nodded again.

His hand touched the nape of her neck and sent bolts of excitement through her body. Her nipples stiffened strangely, and she found the tops of her thighs were rubbing together involuntarily. Just what was the spell this man had cast on her, and why did her body arch into him when he touched her back like that?

Her own hand touched his neck as his lips moved to meet hers, and when he kissed her, she couldn't help but make a strange mmm noise into her mouth, like she'd just had a spoonful of ice cream.

One second. Two seconds. Three.

She imagined the kiss was far beyond the norm, and yet James didn't seem close to stopping. His fingers pressed a little harder against the nape of her neck, his lips opened, and kissed her more firmly. Her own lips were moving to respond, speaking a language she had never learnt, and yet she seemed to naturally understand. She let out more noises. An mmm here, an oh there.

By the time he was finished with her, she couldn't breathe.

Literally.

She began to hyperventilate, gasping for air.

"Rebecca?" His smile vanished. "Hey. Are you okay?"

She tried to answer, but couldn't seem to get enough air into her lungs.

"Okay. It's okay." He took a step back, giving her room. "Do you need to sit down? Should I get somebody?"

She shook her head, although she wasn't sure what she meant by it. She just needed to get away. Somewhere quiet.

Before he could say anything else, she hurried out into the hallway.

She leaned over the sink, gasping for air. She turned the tap and took a long drink of water, before finally her lungs began to fill with air, and the gray splotches disappeared from her vision.

What was going on?

Why do I feel like this?

As she stood there, staring into her owns, she felt that strange sensation between her legs, and pushed her thighs together once more.

Oh God, she thought.

Oh FUCK, she thought.

She took one last deep breath and stepped out into the hall. She found James waiting for her, with a nervous expression.

"I nearly called an ambulance," he said.

"I'm fine." She smoothed the front of her dress. "Are we finished?"

"We can be." He looked at her carefully. "Rebecca, you scared me back there."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. I just need to know you're okay."

"I am."

"Because we don't have to do anything else. You've already done what you came here to do."

She looked down at her shoes.

That was true, wasn't it? She'd kissed him. She'd done what they asked. She could collect the money and go home to Richard and the children.

So why did the thought of leaving make her feel strangely disappointed?

"Was there supposed to be another kiss?" she asked.

"There was. But forget about that. I'm more concerned about you."

She glanced up at him.

He really did seem concerned. Not annoyed, or impatient, or embarrassed by her behavior. Just concerned.

"I think..." She hesitated. "I think I'd like to try again."

"Rebecca, you don't have to."

"I know."

And that was the strangest part. For once, she really did know.

"Are you sure?"

She nodded.

"Then we can take it slowly."

She looked at him for another moment, then stepped closer.

James didn't move. He just smiled at her, waiting.

Oh, goodness. Was she supposed to do something?

She placed one hand against his chest, feeling rather foolish, and rose onto her tiptoes. He leaned down to meet her, and she pressed her lips against his.

There. She'd done it.

Except neither of them moved away.

His hands settled gently at her waist, and she found herself leaning a little closer. She kissed him again, less awkwardly this time.

When his lips parted slightly, she drew back just enough to look at him.

"What are you doing?"

"Just kissing you," he said, smiling. "We can stop."

"No, I didn't mean—" She felt her cheeks burning. "Is that how you're supposed to do it?"

"There's no rule, Rebecca. Just do what feels comfortable."

She considered that for a moment.

Then she kissed him again.

This time, when his lips parted, she tentatively followed his lead. It felt strange at first, and she nearly laughed at the absurdity of it. What are you, some kind of fish?

But she didn't laugh. She was too busy discovering that kissing somebody could feel quite different from the quick goodbye kisses she'd exchanged with Richard.

When she finally stepped away, James released her immediately.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Yes," she said, rather surprised to find that she meant it.

She realized she had felt his hardness against her as they kissed.

"How was that?" he asked gently.

"Good," is all she said, yet her mind was running wild.

She had felt things, and still felt them, in places she had never felt them before. Her skin prickled to the touch, and yearned for that feeling. She wanted him to hold her again. To kiss her again. And there was something else, something she couldn't quite put into words, that frightened her almost as much as it fascinated her.

"Good," she repeated. Nodding this time.

He nodded. "And that's only episode one."

The last episode, she told herself. "I should go."

He gestured to the stairs and she took them two at a time, and was glad to finally step out into the fresh air where she found Mike waiting for her.

"Rebecca, I'm being told you nailed it. We're happy we got everything we need."

"I'm glad," she said. Wanting to get back into the car.

"Five grand for today. Fifteen grand for tomorrow."

"Tomorrow? Fifteen?!"

"Of course. We raise the money as we raise the stakes." He smiled at her, touching her back as he guided her to her car.

"What do I need to do for fifteen thousand dollars?"

"Well," he opened the door for her. "Just some hand stuff."

She stared at him, unsure of what that even meant. "Like, hugging?"

He clearly wanted to laugh.

"No, not hugging sweetheart. And it won't be any touching on you, so don't worry about that."

"Mike..." she trailed off, climbing into the car as she spoke. "That's a lot of money, but I need to know what you're implying."

"I'm sure you've touched Richard's dick before, sweetheart. Just a bit of hand stuff, that's all."

He closed the door on her as she gawped at him through the window.

The car sped off, and as it did, her mind went back to the hallway.

To James' hardness pressing against her as he kissed her.

It had felt so big, so rigid, so strong.

Like him.

Just a little hand stuff.

Richard's voice came back to her. Two grands a lot of money. That would give us a few more weeks, plus the car.

Five grand gave us two months, then.

Fifteen half a year.

That's a whole lot of money.

Just some hand stuff.

Her heart fluttered as she sat in the back of the car, her mind racing, and her thighs pulled by some magnetic force, desperate to make her squeeze them as tightly as she could.

Fuck.

---

"Fifteen thousand dollars?" Richard repeated.

"Yes, honey. But I'm not doing it. I just wanted to tell you what happened."

"What exactly are they asking?"

She closed her eyes. "Something terrible."

"Rebecca."

"They want me to touch him."

"Touch him where?"

"Richard, please."

There was a pause.

"You mean his privates?"

She could hardly bear to answer. "Yes."

"And they're offering fifteen thousand dollars?"

"I know. It's ridiculous."

"Well, I wouldn't call fifteen thousand dollars ridiculous."

She waited for him to say something else. Something about marriage vows. About decency. About how no wife of his would ever do such a thing.

"That's six months of bills, Rebecca."

"But honey, I can't possibly--"

"I'm not telling you what to do."

She stared at the hotel curtains.

"Of course not."

"I'm just saying we need to think about what's best for this family."

"Yes, honey."

"And you said the guy was respectful?"

She thought of James stepping back when she'd struggled to breathe. Of how he'd waited for her to decide whether to kiss him again.

"Very respectful."

"Well, there you are."

There you are?

What on earth was that supposed to mean?

"Richard, wouldn't it bother you?"

Another pause.

"Of course it would bother me, Rebecca. You think I like any of this?"

"No, honey."

"But I'm trying to be practical. Somebody in this family has to be."

She lowered her eyes.

"I suppose so."

"Look, you're a grown woman. You can make your own decisions. I'm not going to order you around."

Somehow, that sounded less like permission to refuse than she'd hoped.

"But if you decide to come home," he continued, "we'll have to figure something else out. That's all."

She could hear the television playing in the background. The ordinary sounds of her own living room, hundreds of miles away.

"Okay, honey," she whispered.

"Call me tomorrow. Let me know what you decide."