Page 81 of You Had Me at Chateau
‘Those photos are definitely going to take some explaining,’ Caleb says, pouring us each a glass.
I laugh – well, what else can I do now?
‘Your career could take a sexy turn – you already have underwear to promote,’ I point out.
‘Yeah, true, there’s always the adult entertainment industry, if you get me cancelled,’ he jokes.
The wine is kicking in, topping up my already healthy (or unhealthy, I guess) blood-alcohol level, and the intrusive thoughts (the ones we all get, you know, when you’re standingon a bridge, and a little voice tells you to jump off) are clearly drunk too, because they’re telling me to do something wild.
‘You know what? Let’s do those big money photos,’ I suggest. ‘Grab the stuff the adult store wants you to promote.’
‘Really?’ Caleb replies, his wine glass hovering in front of his lips. ‘Because we’ve got plenty of photos of other things, enough for a decent payout for us both. We don’t need to bother with the really sexy stuff. I probably would have skipped it anyway.’
‘Yeah, go on,’ I push him. ‘We don’t have to share the photos, live a little, let’s see what they’ve sent.’
The irony of me telling a TV star with a fabulous life to live a little isn’t wasted on me but, well, wasted is the word, I’m kinda drunk and I’m having a blast.
‘Are you sure?’ he asks, looking at me intently.
‘Yes,’ I say, grinning, probably not looking as sultry as I’m trying to. ‘My career is going down the drain, so the money would be good.’
I pout at him but he doesn’t need telling again. He hands me a bag of lingerie, and I choose something to put on – a really complicated hot pink set, with peepholes and trapdoors, which basically covers the things you don’t actually need to cover, and keeps the important bits ready for action. However, I’m not about to walk out there with my nipples out, because I’m still me, and that feels like low-key sexual harassment, so for a little modesty (ha!) and good measure, I throw on a saucy French maid’s outfit over the top (which even comes with a brunette wig, because apparently to fit the part you can’t be blonde). Well, when in France, right?
Caleb looks stunned when he sees me, standing there in my French maid’s outfit, complete with a feather duster in hand. Well, the entire time I’ve been here I’ve been nothing but a little doom cloud.
For a moment, I think he might be speechless, but then he breaks into a grin.
‘Well, if you’re going to clean, you might as well start with my room,’ he says, waggling his eyebrows.
I burst out laughing, instantly feeling more at ease. He’s standing there in a pair of silk boxer shorts, looking like he just stepped out of a luxury sleepwear catalogue. Honestly, why is men’s lingerie always so simple and relatively normal-looking? Meanwhile, I’m in what is basically a Rubik’s cube in underwear form.
‘Yeah, yeah, keep dreaming,’ I say, giving him a playful swat on his bare chest with my feather duster. ‘But I will pretend to clean, for the sake of the photos.’
I playfully bend over the sofa, to dust the coffee table, ready for my close-up.
Caleb walks over to me, makes a camera gesture with his empty hands – the millennial kind with a shutter button, not the Gen Z mime that is basically holding up a smart phone – pretending to take a photo of me.
We laugh as we start posing for more fake photos. The absurdity of the situation makes it all the more fun. Caleb strikes a few ridiculous poses, and I follow suit, each shot getting sillier than the last, and yet still so undeniably sexy. There is something kind of horny about having a laugh in the bedroom, right? Or the kitchen area, in our case, but you know what I mean.
Every time our eyes meet, there’s a spark. It’s like the air between us is charged with electricity. We move closer, posing together for absolutely no reason, his arm around my waist, and I can feel the warmth of his skin against mine. The laughter dies down, replaced by a comfortable, almost intimate silence. I can’t help but feel a flutter in my chest. I’m almost worried he’ll be able to hear my heart beating, or feel it, now that my body is pressed against his.
‘You look incredible,’ he says, and there’s no trace of a joke in his voice this time.
‘Thanks,’ I reply, feeling a blush creep up my cheeks.
I notice him notice the pink strap of the bodysuit I’m wearing.
‘Was that in the bag?’ he asks. ‘Or is that yours?’
‘It was in the bag,’ I reply. ‘I couldn’t have walked so many steps today in this thing. It’s so, intimately tight, I think I’m having sex with it right now.’
Caleb laughs lightly for a split second but then his expression goes serious again.
‘Is it weird that I’m jealous?’ he asks.
‘Is it weird that I’m glad?’ I reply, my heart absolutely pounding in my chest now.
For a moment, we just stand there, the room around us fading away. I can feel the pull between us, stronger than ever. It’s as if the world has stopped, and it’s just the two of us, caught in this perfect, surreal moment.
