Page 60 of Mister Mom

To say I’m self-conscious of my body would be a huge understatement. No one except Carver has seen me completely naked since I had children. Unlike Carver, I didn’t sleep with anyone else after we got married, or since our separation.

I turned down a decent role last year that required a sex scene because I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Then it dawns on me… what if Vance sees my body and decides I’m not a good fit for the movie?

I push him off me, sliding to the headboard, and crisscross each side of my blouse to cover myself.

“What’s the matter?” Vance’s alarmed face makes me cringe.

I’m all over the road here, giving him mixed signals. Who’s to say he won’t want to get off at the next available exit?

15

Vance

She’s covering herself like I just groped her without her permission and with all the blood in my body heading south away from my brain it takes me a minute to try to catch up. “Layla?”

Her forehead falls to her knees and she mumbles something I can’t understand.

“Do you want to look at me when you say that so I can understand what’s happening here?”

She peeks one eye up and then rests her chin on her knees. “I’m not what you’re used to… what you’re expecting.”

“What are you talking about?” Then it occurs to me. “Oh.” I wave my hand up in the air. “Hey, we don’t have to do anything. Am I pushing you too fast?”

Her shoulders lose all stiffness and she shakes her head. “No. That’s not what I meant.”

I run a hand through my hair. “You’ve lost me.”

She blows out a stream of air and sits up on her knees, pulling her blouse open.

Damn, her tits are edible. Give me some chocolate sauce and whip cream and let me lose a few hours playing with them kind of edible.

“See?” she says, in a tone that suggests I’m supposed to know where she’s going with this.

“That you have great tits? Yeah, I know.” I close my fists, resisting the urge to grab them. No way do I want to scare her.

“No.” She glances down at herself and then back up to me. “The rest of me. See how imperfect I am?”

I lean back on my hands. I should have known. She’s an actress and actresses are all perfectionists. “Layla, you’re gorgeous.” I say this in a tone that suggests she’s off her rocker.

“No, the vision you had in your head before my clothes were off was gorgeous. See the stretch marks that Via left me with? They’re always airbrushed out of the magazines if I happen to show my stomach. My C-section scar is hidden during a love scene on camera. I lost my perfect figure the minute I was pregnant with Payne. Now, you’ll know you’re getting a subpar-looking actress for your film and you’ll want to cast someone else.”

“Not true.”

She ignores me, rushing to get off the bed and moving toward her bathroom. “But you know what? I’m fine with that,” she continues on. “Maybe I should start applying for the mom roles. So what if I had my kids young and that ruins my chance of playing high-school parts even though I’m in my twenties? No Andrea Zuckerman for me.”

Now I’m really confused. “Andrea Zuckerman?”

“You know, from 90210? She was almost thirty playing a high-school junior. It’s fine though, I’m fine with it. Because I think I do look pretty darn good for having two kids. You’re right, my tits are great.” She looks in the mirror outside her bathroom and places her hands on the bottom of her breasts, pushing them up. “With a little bit of tweaking they’ll be good as new one day.”

I walk up behind her, slowly, to not startle the crazy chick that has taken over Layla’s brain at the moment. Sliding my hands under her arms, I cup her breasts with my hands, letting my thumbs run over her erect nipples.

“You’re beautiful just the way you are. I wouldn’t want to change anything about you. As far as the part, it’s yours. You know that.” I brush the loose strands of her hair away with my face and kiss her neck. “Don’t ever be self-conscious around me because when I see you”—I purposely let my eyes meet hers in the mirror—“I always see perfection.”

Her cheeks flush and it makes her even more beautiful.

“You’re just saying that to get in my pants.”

“Well, yeah, the raging hard-on I’ve had since we met is getting more and more distracting, but I’m not a liar. Also, I don’t tend to get hard-ons from girls I don’t find attractive.”

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