Decker's Wood (11 page)

“You remembered?” I was shocked he had remembered.

Decker winked as he took in my shirt with a smirk. “Of course I did. A closet Back Street Boys fan, I knew it.”

Pulling out the chair across from him, I sat down, my stomach already demanding its fill of ice cream, my hangover cure. “The only reason I haven’t tossed the shirt
is because my dad gave it to me.”

“Wow, could I be any more insensitive?” He looked downright uncomfortable as he shifted in his chair, avoiding my gaze.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, Decker. Just don’t mistake my affection for this shirt as some secret love for a nineties pop group who almost drove me to a musical suicide. My heart has and always will belong to country.”

He managed a sheepish smile before digging into his bacon and eggs. My stomach began to settle as soon as the ice cream hit my tongue. I tried really hard to stop my eyes from lingering on Decker’s bare chest
, but it was hopeless, a gun to my head couldn’t have stopped me from staring.

“We should have a rule. If you’re going to stare at mine, I should get to stare at yours,” Decker said with humor in his voice.

I dragged my eyes from his chest. He looked sleep ruffled, but otherwise good. His brown eyes twinkled with mischief and he looked ready to take on the world. I, on the other hand, needed a strong cup of coffee and a slow warm up before I could face the day.

“In your dreams. Maybe you should put a shirt on or something.” He ignored me with an arrogant smirk, typical male.

“So, how do you do it?” I asked, remembering the little revelation about Decker’s profession from the night before. Decker raised a brow in question. “The whole porn thing,” I clarified.

“I thought you said you weren’t a virgin?”

“I don’t mean how do you do it, you douche. I mean, what if the girl is ugly? How do you…you know…get it up?”

“Country, the girls are never ugly. They are all special in their own way. Some have more curves than others, some have clear skin, some don’t, some have big tits
, some have little tits. At the end of the day, they all have their own kind of beauty. Fucking beautiful women for money has never been a hardship.” He seemed to hesitate before continuing. “I lost interest in it a while back though; it’s why I started directing instead. I guess sex gets boring after a while. Who would have thought?”

“What about girlfriends? Surely the girls you date aren’t cool with you sleeping with other girls,” I wondered out loud.

“I don’t date.”

I gave him my best ‘the fuck?’ look.

“I tried a couple of times back in the early days, but it didn’t work out. Don’t get me wrong, there are some actors and actresses who seem to make it work. Both are usually in the industry though so they understand that the sex is just that, sex. No emotional attachment. I can’t help but put myself in the woman’s position though. If it were me kissing her goodbye each day while she went off to fuck random guys, I wouldn’t be cool with it. So, it’s easier not to date.”

“How long have you been doing it?” I had so many questions I didn’t know where to start.

“Twelve years,” Decker replied. I did the math in my head. Decker had been working in the porn industry since he was twenty. The last time I had seen him, he was eighteen and strangely enough, fucking everything in sight. I guess he really was born for pornography. Perhaps it was the lingering alcohol in my system, perhaps it was my morning moodiness quadrupled with a hangover, but Decker’s nonchalance towards women and sex created a churning anger deep in my stomach. Here I had been crushing on this man for half my life and he had been out fucking everything with a pulse, getting paid for it. I had wasted so much time pining for something that I clearly did not need in my life.

“And you never get lonely? What about all the good stuff like first dates, first kisses,
the excitement over a new relationship when the sexual tension gets a chance to build?”

Decker shrugged. “I guess I also miss out on all the shit, like fighting, cheating, and jealousy. From what I hear, the sex eventually turns into monotony, and doom and gloom prevails. No fucking thank you. I’m more than happy to stick my dick in a beautiful, willing woman with no attachments or messy relationship shit to deal with. The bonus is I get paid to do it.”

I tried not to wince at his visual he had just created in my throbbing head. “Sex shouldn’t be treated with such insignificance, Decker. I mean, I understand that sex is enjoyable and some people partake in it for the simple pleasure of sharing their bodies, but fuck, it should also be treated with a little damn respect. You can’t go through life without experiencing the beauty of an emotional attachment to a member of the opposite sex; it will turn you into an emotionally stunted eunuch.”

Decker seemed to bristle at my words. “You don’t think I respect the women I screw?”

“Hardly, you said it yourself, you just stick your dick in a willing woman with the bonus of getting paid for it.”

He stood from the table too quick, his chair falling back with force. His fists were clenched, and the anger he was barely containing took me by surprise. “You don’t know anything about what I do or who I do it with, Andi. You of all people should know what it feels like to have people make assumptions about them.”

Well, that just pissed me off. I matched his stance, pushing myself up, wishing my chair would have flown back to the ground with the same impressive velocity as Decker’s. It didn’t, the slight grating on the hardwood floor was completely lame.

“My teenage awkwardness has nothing to do with your offhand attitude towards sex. At least the few people who did make an attempt to get to know the teenage me earned a place in my heart. I made friends, male ones that I didn’t need to have casual detached sex with.”

“Why the fuck would I have wanted to spend my time around an emotionally stunted girl?” Decker growled, enunciating the words “emotionally stunted” so it was clear to me that he was throwing the words I had used at him right back in my face.

“God forbid you stop screwing every pretty thing with a heartbeat long enough to wonder why the emotionally stunted little girl was emotionally fucking stunted.”

Silence descended upon us like a thick, uncomfortable sludge. Decker took a long breath in and blew it out with exasperation.

“We might have known each other a long time, Andi, but neither of us really knows anything about the other.”

“Clearly,” I snapped.

Decker retrieved his shirt and shoes without saying a word and left. I didn’t try and stop him, caught somewhere between wanting his comfort
him and wanting to kick his ass. As soon as the downstairs door to the apartment clicked shut, I stomped over to the stereo and turned off the ear splitting rock that was infecting my happy place. I pressed play on the CD that was already sitting inside, and Keith Urban’s “Raining on a Sunday” filled the room, the sorrowful melody turning my anger to sorrow.

A betraying tear slipped down my cheek, and I brushed it away with frustration. I wasn’t exactly sure what I was angry over, and I sure as hell had no idea why I was crying. All I knew for sure was my out of control feelings were over Decker. No matter how many times I told myself Decker was just a pretty ornament to be looked at and not touched, seeing him here in New York had tugged at that place that dwelled inside all women. That place where dreams of knights in shining armor, steadfast devotion, and happily ever afters dwelled. That place inside all women that yearned for tender touches and a coveted embrace. That place in all women called a heart, the place where dreams and impossibilities lived in a locked up box. I had allowed myself too many dreams and fantasies of Decker
Steele, and now those dreams and fantasies were crushed under the revelation that he was nothing more than an insensitive man whore who went through life one woman at a time. I sniffled angrily, probably more than one woman at a time. I was being childish and unreasonable. Decker had never offered me anything more than friendship. I was just a silly girl caught up in silly dreams. He had been a good friend to me since I had arrived in New York, and I had gone and thrown that friendship back in his face with my prudish outrage. I didn’t want to lose Decker’s friendship because, quite simply, the thought of not being friends with him hurt even more.

DECKER

Melody Mona was just as I remembered: tall, stunning with blue eyes and dark hair, her breasts a nice firm
D cup and her skin brushed golden with fake tan. Nothing at all like Andi, and she came with less complications. Melody wanted me and she was happy to share me with my career. It would be so easy to fall into a convenient relationship with her. Only problem was, I didn’t want her. I wanted someone and something that came with complications—Andi—the woman I had been trying, albeit unsuccessfully, to put out of my mind for the last three days.

Following the heated moment in her apartment, I hadn’t attempted to contact her, hoping a few days away from the spirited strawberry blonde would help my head regain equilibrium. Just the thought of her splayed on her bed in that sinfully wicked red lingerie sent my dick to instant attention, my heart would pound almost painfully inside my chest, and my head would demand I pick up the phone and call her. I had never been so thrown off kilter by a woman in my life. Now, as I sit in the first set meeting for the film I had signed on for with The Bishop, I felt fucking sick. When I had told Andi about my job as an adult film star, I had conveniently failed to mention this upcoming job. I’m not sure if it was because somewhere in the deep recesses of my warped brain I thought she might fuck me if she didn’t know. And there it was, the truth that burned into my guilty conscience like a red hot poker, I wanted to fuck her. I wanted her, and that fact alone pissed me off because I couldn’t have her. But when she found out what I did for a living, well, that officially put an end to any such wants or desires. In a moment that surprised the hell out of me, she had said it didn’t bother her what I did for a living, but with the rising of a new day came a new attitude. She did little to hide her revulsion. We’d yelled at each other like out of control children, honest and hurtful words were exchanged that could no more be taken back than a leopard can change its spots. And after all was said and done, I still wanted her. I wanted to take her face in my hands and kiss away the hurt I had put on her face. I wanted to taste every inch of her body and sink myself into her wet heat. The worst part was I wanted to be something more for her. I wanted her to look at me with respect and pride, not
disgust, and that was something I couldn’t control or change. I was going to kick Bradley’s ass from here to damn hell and back for throwing Andi into my life like this.

“Decker with the big pecker, how are you, baby?” Melody whispered in my ear. The saying was so old I didn’t even bother to reign in the indignant eye roll.

“Melody, how’s things?” I asked casually. I needed to keep things cordial; I was supposed to be fucking her in four weeks’ time. Sooner if Melody had any say in the matter.

“I saw your last directorial piece. It wasn’t half bad.”

I smiled, but it was forced. I really didn’t care what she thought about my work. It’s not that I didn’t respect the girls I worked with, but Melody fell into a special little category of female that I liked to call soul eating succubus. She was hard and indifferent, going far and above to get what she wanted, and she always got what she wanted, until me. I didn’t do relationships, and if I did, it would not be with a woman like Melody. As she slid into the chair at my side, I wondered what kind of a girl she had been growing up. I picked her as the token stuck up cheerleader, going out of her way to intimidate and hurt the smaller kids at school, probably the type of girl who enjoyed belittling sweet little awkward girls like Andi.

“Melody, did you ever have a pet growing up?” I found myself asking her. She seemed taken aback by my question
, and it took her a moment to find her voice.

“No, I’d never pick up dog poop and cats are nasty little fuckers,” she said with a smile.

Strike one for Melody.

“Ice cream, chocolate, or candy?” Suddenly, Melody seemed interested in my interrogation, perhaps even hopeful.

“Occasionally gelato, I watch my calories closely. It takes a lot of hard work to maintain this,” she whispered, running a hand down her arm. I managed to reign in another eye roll.

Strike two.

“What about books? Do you like to read?”

She nodded her head enthusiastically and pulled a rolled up gossip magazine out of her bag.

Strike three, you’re out.

“Yo, Decker, long
time no see,” exclaimed Jimmy Knox, giving me a manly slap on the back. Jimmy was a good guy and obviously good looking as all the females in the room followed his casual gait with hungry eyes. Even Melody subconsciously licked her lips at the sight of him. They were like fucking sharks circling, nothing like Andi. There I went again with the Andi comparisons.

The Bishop arrived and the meeting began right away, ending an hour later. It was all pretty standard stuff, going over the script, the characters, the setting, blah, blah, blah. Everyone was ordered to present their medicals as there was a no condom clause on this film. I was clean as whistle, always had been, and prided myself on my sparkling record. The script wasn’t challenging, and the opportunity to
ad-lib and improvise was encouraged. Regardless of The Bishops high quality, feature film finish, at the end of the day, it was still porn. The storyline was simplistic and the emphasis was, of course, on the sex. Regardless of how overly simplified the structure of the film was, the finished product would be sensational. While The Bishop discussed the schedule, my heart hammered like a spooked rabbit. We would begin filming in just four short weeks and now I was panicking. Would my equipment work or would I be popping pills like the Viagra junkie I had become? Were my acting skills on a level that I could actually fake the enjoyment I wouldn’t be feeling while screwing Melody? Could I shake off my Andi addiction so I could get back to doing what I did best? As soon as the meeting finished, I jumped to my feet and exited the building, desperate to get out of there. Of late, I had managed to perfect the art of asshole so nobody would have found my quick departure anything out of the ordinary.

“Decker, wait up,” Melody called from somewhere behind me.

I didn’t wait, if anything I lengthened my stride and made a beeline for my car. Her cold hand wrapped around my bicep just as I reached for the door.

“Hey, where’s the fire?” she asked, panting.

“I’ve got somewhere I have to be.” I tried for the nonchalance I used to be able to capture with ease, regardless of who I was talking to or screwing. It seemed to elude me now as Melody’s mere presence grated on my nerves. I turned my body, pulling my arm away from the contact she had initiated. How on earth was I going to fuck her if I couldn’t even stand her touching me?

“Well, once you’re finished being wherever it is you need to be, let’s go get a drink.”

“No can do, I’m busy all day.”

“What about tonight?” She was persistent, I’d give her that. Not even my bluntness or obvious revulsion to her touch deterred her.

“I’m definitely busy tonight.”

“Then tomorrow night,” she purred. The woman was indomitable!

“Babe, I’m busy all week. I’ve got a deadline to meet and I’ve got some family stuff to take care of. I’ll call you when I’m free.” I slid into my car and spared her a final glance. She looked like a spoiled child denied a toy. “Another time,” I assured her, feeling a slight tinge of regret for acting like a boorish asshole. What can I say? Melody captured the heart and soul of the asshole in me.

Back in the safety of my apartment, I wandered aimlessly around the living room, my thoughts tangled with my past, present, and future. Andi was no doubt featured in at least two of those categories, but how would she feature in the third? Was she worth giving up the comfort of what I knew? Was she worth turning my back on the reputation and status I had spent years building? My name was synonymous with adult film; I was a fucking star in my own right. Was a slip of country ass worth giving it all up for?

Any traces of the easy going laughter I had recaptured upon Andi’s return into my life was gone once more. My mood was dark, just as it had been for all those months leading up to Andi’s New York arrival. Twenty minutes ago, I had stepped from the shower and couldn’t even bother to get dressed. I stood butt naked in my living room, vehemently denying my attraction for Andi. Just the thought of her was turning my inactive cock into a state of painful arousal. Uh huh, my head was shoved so far up my ass, I no longer knew one hole from the other. When my cell rang, I gave it a quick glance. My heart began to race like an adolescent fucking school girl when I saw Andi’s name flashing across the screen. I wasn’t going to answer it though, I didn’t do relationships, I didn’t do commitment, and I sure as hell didn’t do girly crushes. I stared at my phone defiantly until it stopped ringing. I snickered with satisfaction. Decker one, girl zero! I stood and turned to face the kitchen and then, like the pathetic bitch I am, I turned back and frowned at my buzzing phone. It went silent, then buzzed to advise me a message had been left. I ignored it and resumed my course to the kitchen, grabbing the milk from the fridge, drinking it directly from the carton. I glanced back across the room at my phone. What if she was in some sort of trouble? She didn’t know anyone else in town, apart from her neighbors of course. Yeah, Lionel and Casey could help her out with any trouble. I shoved the milk carton back in the fridge and stared at my phone again. Ignore her. Call Cindy and Lexie over for a little horizontal action, or better yet, get dressed and go out tonight. Move on, live the rock star life I had worked hard to achieve. The message taunted me like an itch I couldn’t scratch. When the hell did I become so big a pussy I might let the opportunity of a lifetime pass me by? Girls like Andi were rare, and because I wasn’t man enough to pick up the phone, some other lucky bastard would claim that sweet country perfection. You’re going to be fucking Melody Mona with mock enthusiasm—with a dick full of Viagra no doubt—while someone else buries himself in the sweetness that is Andi. She might be all, she might be nothing, but at the end of the day, I needed to fucking know. I grabbed for the phone and hit her number.

“Howdy.”

That husky Texan drawl went straight to my dick. I cleared my throat before I spoke, because I knew my voice would sound like a crackling, hormonal teenager if I didn’t. “Hey, Andi, sorry I miss your call, I was in the shower.” Still naked as the day I was born, with a raging hard-on, I glanced around the room as if expecting to see someone mocking my pathetic situation.

“Oh, hey, Decker, I hope I didn’t interrupt you.”

I looked down at the monster at my groin. I was tempted to start stroking myself and just get off on the sound of her voice. Ahhhh, loser at life present and accounted for.

“Not interrupting. What’s up?” I said, managing to keep my hand off my cock.

“I picked up a bottle of Wild Turkey and want to give it to your dad to thank him for the paint and stuff. I’ve spent the better part of the morning calling every Steele in the phone book trying to locate him. Do you have any idea how many Steeles there are in New York? Anyway, on the last call, I got some dirty ol’ man who wanted to know if I was a phone sex operator. When I said I most definitely was not, he asked me if I was wearing polish on my toenails, and when I said I had bubblegum pink on today, he wanted me to do something anatomically impossible with them, so…I give up. What’s your dad’s address?”

While I understood the phone guy’s attraction to the sound of Andi’s voice and foot fetishes were the least crazy fetish going around, I found myself wanting to find the guy and introduce him to a little Steele aggression. I was also annoyed that Andi didn’t just call me in the first place, but I guess the way we last parted did leave things in an awkward limbo.

“Don’t talk crazy, Country. I’ll be there in half an hour, and I’ll drive you to his office.” I hung up before she had time to argue. I was dressed and out the door in five minutes flat. When I pulled up out front Andi’s store, she was already waiting on the curb. She was wearing a simple blue sundress that sat right under that cute little ass that I now knew was the canvas for a hot little Tinkerbell tattoo. Her customary boots were on, hair tossed into a ponytail. I noticed her toss a wave somewhere behind her as she made her way to the car. Casey and Lionel were standing at their window, resounding smiles on their faces. Glancing across the street, I noticed Imogen and Vanessa also standing at their window, watching. When Vanessa noticed my gaze, she gave me a fervent wave. I offered nothing more than a nod. I knew she was attracted to me, and I didn’t want to offer her anything she might mistake as a return of her affection. Andi climbed into the car, and with her presence came the familiar light scent of cinnamon. Her nosy neighbors became obsolete as I admired her girl next door beauty. She carried an easy going nature that both soothed and turned me on.

“At least you should feel safe with the local neighborhood watch and all,” I drawled, nodding to the street patrol. Andi smiled
, and it was like radiant sunshine and sparkling rainbows had filled the car. Damn, I really should whip home and put on my man pants. Andi nervously fidgeted with the seatbelt. I didn’t like that anxiety. From the first moment we had been thrust together, the tension had been nothing but a lightning bolt of sexual awareness, but our argument three days ago had introduced a floundering awkwardness. I held out my hand, and Andi stared at it hesitantly.

“Hi, I’m Decker Steele, remember me? I was the smug asshole who was too damn pig headed to pay you any attention as a teenager. I just want you to know this asshole grew up
, and even though I am, for the most part, cured of assholism, I am still prone to unexpected bouts of asshole-ish behavior. Like three days ago when I lost my temper and upset a really good friend of mine.” A smile crept onto Andi’s face and she took my hand.