Page 16 of Knot Just for Show

“Hey, I’m Teddy,” I introduce myself—making sure the motorized cameras have time to track me as I get down on the ground and start getting some floor stretches in.

If she’s a chatty one, I’ll try to get some pushups or something in so that the camera can really make use of me serving body.

“Teddy, hihowareya?I’m Ursula,” she responds, her accent so thick that it’s hard for me not to start laughing out loud. She sounds kinda like that lady on that old show about that New York nanny for a super rich family. Short, sort of a loudmouth? But also a totally smokin’ hot brunette with solid tits and a nice ass.

When she says the name, though? I can only think of one thing.

“Ha, Ursula like that octopus lady?” I laugh, laying flat on the floor so I can start some leg raises while we chat.

She makes a funny sound before she responds.

“Hm, yeah. Just like the octopus lady.”

I wait for her to elaborate, but she offers nothing—so I continue on.

“So, Ursula, what brings you here?” I ask, even though I would look like a total fucking asshole if I answered my own question with any kind of authenticity. I’ve carefully constructed my own answer to be given for the camera. Len and I even practiced my little speech a few times before I shipped off to the bubbles.

“Well, I’d imagine we’re probably here for similar reasons,” she laughs.

“I’m here because I’m just tired of thenoiseof dating apps and shit,” I huff, moving on to a set of oblique crunches to allow her a chance to respond.

“Uh huh…I see…maybe we are here for slightly different reasons,” she snorts another laugh.

“Oh yeah?” I challenge, finishing my obliques and flipping over onto my stomach to start those push-ups. I have a feeling she might have a bit more to say about this one, might as well take advantage on my end.

“Yeah, I’m here because I haven’t really even been dating at all outside this…experience—” she begins before stopping short unexpectedly and changing gears.

“Are…are you working out over there?” she scoffs, incredulous.

I freeze in place—holding a plank as I run through my options for how to answer her. I decide to go with the truth, since I am on camera after all and I don’t want to look like too much of an asshole, just enough of one that my hotness can still justify it.

“Uh… yeah I am. Is that, like, not cool?” I remain suspended—muscular arms unmoving—body in a hard, unwavering line.

To all the ladies who will one day enjoy these hot shots,you’re very welcome.

“It’s pretty shitty, honestly,” she sighs, exasperated.

Wait, what? She’s pissed? Why is she pissed? I could have chatted Brittney up about my workout routine for another half hour and she still would have been eating out of the palm of my hand. If I had started panting and grunting in the background of our conversation, she probably would have started pumping out the slick.

“Oh, damn. Sorry, I…” I grasp for an apology, even though I’m not really sure what I should be sorry for. “I have just felt like I’m in a tiny fish bowl here. I didn’t realize how claustrophobic I’d feel during this experience.”

I lower myself onto my knees and ease back to sit cross-legged, my back against the couch.

“Yeah, I can understand that honestly,” she laughs, the tension gone from her voice.

“Out of context, it just felt like you were kind of ignoring me—like I was just sort of background noise to your workout,” she adds, really pinning me with her blunt assessment.

“Yeah, no—I wasn’t trying to make you feel like shit. I can see how that probably really sucked though, now that you mention it.”

The shame rises from deep in my gut. Even though I know my moms would never watch this kind of trash TV, combined with the fact that I have pointedlynottold them that I am partaking in this reality show/’experience,’ the thought of my Moms watching my buffoonery for profit at the expense of some innocent woman/women’s feelings only deepens that guilt.

“I may not be the brightest crayon in the box, but I don’t wanna hurt anyone’s feelings,” I murmur earnestly.

“Hey, don’t talk down on yourself either,” Ursula’s voice volleys back, unexpectedly soft and sweet. “We’re all allowed to make honest mistakes. This whole situation is so weird and fucked up.” She dissolves into nervous laughter, so I rush in to fill the empty silence.

“So, both of us opted into this totally wacky ‘experience,’ and neither of us seems to have a clue about how to do the whole date thing this way… Why don’t we start over? I’m Teddy, I’m an actor and martial artist. I work in Hollywood—or I try to, anyway.”

Another warm, effusive laugh escapes her.

---