I had been working on the series for a year when they announced that the lead was leaving. I had worked with him in harmony for a bit. But once he found out I was gay he kept me at arm's length and if I blew a line or a cue he'd mutter something about fags blowing everything/everyone else so why not? I campaigned, heavily for to replace him in his role, and have someone take over my lesser one, but they turned me down.
When they announced after a few months that they have found a replacement, I fought the rising feeling of resentment at the studio's decision. I felt I should have gotten the lead role; after all I knew the lines and could do just as good a job. When I heard they had found someone, I didn't really know what to expect, I guess I thought they'd have as close to a clone as possible for a replacement. I just hoped he wasn't as much of an asshole.
I went to the first read through and he new guy was not there yet. As the rest of the crew took their seats I went to get some tea from the dispenser, I wasn't really looking where I was going, and rounded the corner and essentially ran over somebody. I am a pretty big guy, around 6 feet tall and I used to play rugby at University, so when we collided I knocked him to ground, hard. As I towered over the prone figure on the floor I hoped I hadn't killed him, because he just lay there, not moving at all. After what seemed like forever he took a deep breath and got to his feet. Much to my surprise he gathered himself up with a big grin on his face.
"Well that was fun," he laughed, "are you OK?"
The first thing that I noticed was he was slightly taller than me, then I gazed into his dark-chocolate brown eyes and felt a bolt of electricity hit me. My trousers felt way too tight as I stood to attention, and I shifted my hands to the fig leaf position, as inconspicuously as I could.
I can't imagine the look on my face, but it must have been comical because his grin widened, he leaned in closer to me and very slowly repeated himself, "are...you...OK?"
"Um... yeah..." I stammered.
He patted my shoulder, still beaming a smile at me, "Sorry I have to go it's been a pleasure." And with that he turned to walk away.
Normally I don't go for the skinny type but as he strode down the hall I had to admire his long legs and tight little ass in his faded jeans. I took a deep cleansing breath, willing my erection to go down. I got my tea and headed back into the reading. The director, Phil, was standing with his back to me talking to someone. When he saw me he turned to introduce me to the new guy, and to my horror it was the man I run down in the hall.
"John, there you are! This is David, David this is John."
David's high megawatt grin made reappearance as he put out his hand, "We've met, just recently in fact. Nice to know your name, big fella."
As my hand touched his I wanted to pull him to me and kiss him, but I resisted and tried to avoid those dark eyes that seemed to peer right into my soul.
David was very professional, but a bit of a clown, during the read through. He cracked people up as he tried out different accents on the lines, instead of his regular mesmerizing, soft Scottish burr. When he launched into an exaggerated Southern American twang, he had people literally holding their sides trying to breathe through the laughter.
We were there for a few hours when Phil called enough and plans were made for rehearsal the next day.
I hovered around waiting to get David by himself. I told myself it was to apologise for running him over earlier, but really I just wanted to get a closer look at him.
I watched him talking to the female lead, Mollie; she seemed as smitten as I was with him. She kept touching him on the arm or playing with his hair and managed to brush her sizable breasts against him as she pretended to pick a piece of lint off of his shirt.
He's not THAT cute, I tried to convince myself. He's got freckles for god's sake, and he's a ginger. OK, dark ginger but still ginger. He caught my eye and flashed an embarrassed grin my way as Mollie grabbed him close in a hug, her hands wandering down to his ass, squeezing hard, copping a feel.
I had to admit, yes he WAS that cute.
After what seemed like ages, for both of us I'm sure, he extracted himself from her embrace and he walked over to me. "Would you like to get a drink?" he sighed, and ran his hands through his hair, his long fingers pulling at the strands, making some of them stand straight up, "I sure could use one."
"I'd like that."
Outside the studio we hailed a cab; "I don't know the area well," David said as we got into the back of it, "know a good place around here?"
I directed the driver to a local hang out and stole a look at David's face; he didn't seem to react to the name of the establishment even though it had quite a wild reputation in some circles.
We sat at the bar and he ordered a beer and so I followed suit. He didn't say anything just concentrated on the drink until it was gone. Then he ordered another and sat back looking at me.
"Sorry, that was just a little unnerving," he admitted, a slight grimace on his face, "I mean, I read the articles on how you felt about me coming on board, so you probably really hate me. There's stepping into a role that was already established by someone else, which is always a risk. And Mollie, phew, I think she's cute, don't get me wrong, but I think in most countries that would be considered sexual assault." He made a squeezing gesture with both hands to illustrate his point. Then he picked up his glass and took a long pull on the beer.
"I can't blame her; if I had half a chance I would have grabbed a handful too," I blurted out before my brain screamed at me to shut the hell up.
David made a little choking sound as he tried not to spit the mouthful of beer out, he set the glass of beer down and put his head down on the bar for a minute, his shoulders shaking. I heard him finally swallow and he straightened up.
I don't know what I expected but a loud hardy laugh and those dark eyes lit up with amusement wasn't it, "I am really flattered, but you're not my type."
"What is your type?" I countered, still trying to recover.
"Female" he replied. Then he looked around the bar, taking in the décor and the distinct lack of women, "is this a gay bar?"
"Yes."
"Aww, our first date and I didn't get you a corsage, how thoughtless of me!" He drained his drink, unfolded his lanky frame from the stool, threw some money on the bar for the drinks and slipped his leather jacket on, "Thanks for this. I really needed it! I look forward to working with you, John."
The bartender and I watched David leave and we both made a low appreciative whistle. We were in our own little worlds when my mobile rang, pulling me back to reality. It was my boyfriend, Vartan. I found my cheeks getting hot in embarrassment as if he had witnessed me ogling another man, we chit chatted about mundane things for a bit but my mind was definitely elsewhere.
"Don't let your mister see you with that other bit of tasty, or he'll gut you like a fish," the bartender winked at me, as the call ended, "but it would be worth it, eh?"
The next day was a blocking rehearsal, and there was a scene where David's character and mine get into a fight. I had sat up late the night before reading the script and relishing in having an excuse to be in physical contact with him. I was so eager to begin I got to the studio early. To my surprise David was already there, script in hand reading the lines to himself and walking through the paces. When he saw me come in he quickly removed and pocketed a pair of glasses and waved at me.
"Caught me," he laughed, "I just want to do this right."
I walked over to him, "do you normally wear contacts?" I asked taking the opportunity to gaze into his eyes.
"Yes, but I fell asleep with them in last night and woke up looking like the living dead," he admitted, taking his glasses out and settling them back on his nose, "I hope they aren't too nerdy."
"No you look fine."
"Thanks," he winked at me; "hey do you want to go over our scenes before the crew gets here?"
"Which part?" I asked, praying it would be the fight scene, the idea of pinning him under me, feeling his taut body pressed beneath mine made my heart race.
"Pick one."
So I did...guess which one?
He closed his eyes for a second and then was in character. He had obviously decided on the accent he wanted, a middle country dialect, and then we began. He never looked at the script; instead he did his lines as I read mine, somewhat distractedly.
