“Cut. Okay, that’s good. No. Perfect. We can move on to the next scene,” the director’s voice finally decided to come and save me from the sensual misery.
I discreetly let out a deep sigh when the tingling sensation subsided as he withdrew his hand. However, my heart dropped at the absence. I almost rolled my eyes at this internal conflict, wondering if I wanted his hand to go or stay. Come to think of it, his touch had been my companion for almost half an hour. To have it gone suddenly, I felt empty inside and out. I wanted to scream and asked him to put his hand back where it enjoyed. I wanted to beg him to continue touching, caressing, and stroking my calf. Or perhaps, further up, if he felt like it.
Hold on. What did I just think of? I almost smacked my head, thinking back of all the
