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Bridget furtively peeks out the window of her cast trailer after two sharp raps on the door. Tabrett’s standing outside. Bridget swears under her breath, then yanks the door open and pulls her inside. They’re still in costume, and will be until they’re sure no more takes are needed for the day. “Did anybody see you?” Bridget asks.

“Uh, yeah,” Tabrett says, taking off her gloves to tuck them in her belt. “There’s a couple blokes around the corner. Why?”

“Because…you know why! People have eyes!”

Tabrett seems mystified for a moment, then laughs. “Bridge, you can’t be serious.”

“It’s not funny. They know now, after that little stunt, and you coming here alone…it looks bad.”

“Nobody knows. Everybody laughed, remember? Besides, it was Mark’s idea in the first place. It was just a prank, to them.”

Bridget blinks. For the last half-hour she’s been hiding in her trailer assuming the worst—that everyone knew she was involved with a co-star, the hallmark of unprofessionalism. Only A-list movie stars could get away with it. But the more she thinks about it, the more she realizes Tabrett’s right. “Oh,” she says, smiling weakly as embarrassment warms her cheeks.

“Yes, ‘oh’,” Tab says. “Relax, sweetheart. Nobody will suddenly start thinking we’re involved from a single prank kiss on set, and you know it.” She flops down on the couch with a bottle of water and props her boots up. “I’m honestly surprised you don’t get more of them.”

Bridget slowly sits down beside her. With a sigh, she turns lengthwise on the couch, propping her head up on the arm and placing her legs across Tabrett’s lap.

“No big deal,” says Tabrett. “Okay?” She starts to massage Bridget’s calves, drawing a hum of contentment from her.

“Okay,” says Bridget. “But, still.”

“You played your part beautifully, y’know,” Tab says, smiling. “You looked right flustered. Like I’d never kissed you before.”

“Wasn’t acting,” Bridget mumbles.

Tabrett doesn’t speak for a moment, bare hands working away the soreness in Bridget’s muscles. She knew that ‘Tears’ was one of the most physically intense episodes for Bridget. “Are you mad?” asks Tab quietly.

“No,” Bridget says. “You just caught me a bit off guard.”

“Sorry,” Tabrett says ruefully. “Guess I could’ve warned you.”

Bridget rolls her eyes. “You think?”

“Your face though…” Tabrett grins. “Was totally worth it. Anyways, I’ve wanted to kiss you on set for forever.”

“We’ve kissed on set,” Bridget reminds her. “More than, actually.”

“While nobody was there,” Tab counters. “Doesn’t count.”

“Oh, of course not.” Bridget sits up and pulls Tabrett close to her, wraps an arm around her shoulders. “Fair warning,” she says against Tabrett’s lips. “If you go for a boob grab in a retake or something, I won’t be held responsible for my actions.”

“Fair enough.” Tabrett smirks in a way that all Bridget sees for a moment is the character she plays. Bridget smiles to herself before pressing their lips together.


The wrap party is relaxed and a lot of fun, but it’s too long. Mainly because, for some reason, every time Bridget thinks about Tabrett’s public display of affection that afternoon, she gets more and more turned on. And she’s thinking about it a lot.

To make matters worse, Tabrett’s wearing a killer black dress. It hugs her sensual curves, and the open back reveals an expanse of soft, golden skin that Bridget just wants to touch so badly. It’s not fair—she can’t be expected to hold conversation with her crew and cast-mates with a certain blonde siren eyefucking her every chance she gets.

After the third time she spaces out thinking about Tabrett naked while talking to the Craigs, Bridget apologizes, excuses herself, and nods Tabrett toward the bar. When they meet up Bridget sips her drink before leaning in close. “Let’s get out of here,” she says in a low voice.

“Why?” Tabrett asks innocently. “Not having fun?”

Bridget glances down to the amazing cleavage Tab’s dress is showing off. “You know why,” she says, giving Tabrett her very best bedroom eyes.

“Yeah,” Tab says with a grin. “Just figured it out. Let’s go.”


Tabrett’s place is a whole two minutes closer than her own, so it’s her door they burst through moments later. It’s barely closed behind them before Bridget is kissing Tabrett’s mouth. She is hungry for this, and she pushes against Tab until the blonde’s back hits a wall. Bridget presses against her, breast to breast, drinking in the scent of her.

She tastes wine on Tabrett’s tongue, moans into her mouth when Tab palms Bridget’s ass and squeezes. “God, Bridget,” Tabrett murmurs, then she’s kissing Bridget harder, hands wandering all over Bridget’s body. For all that Bridget thought she was desperate, Tab seems to match her.

Bridget tugs meaningfully at Tabrett’s dress. They pull apart just long enough for Tabrett to raise it over her head and toss it aside. Bridget realizes they haven’t bothered to turn the lights on—the curves of Tabrett’s body are hidden in shadow. A flick of a switch fixes that. Dark nipples, black laced panties, tanned skin. Bridget bites her lip. Delicious.

Her own dress is quick to join Tab’s on the floor, and then she’s pulling Tab to the couch. Her place is small but modern, with empty spaces and skylights and really comfortable furniture. “Slow down, babe,” Tabrett says.

“Not interested in slowing down.” Bridget has her sit down, and kneels between her legs. “I want you.” She’s urging Tabrett’s legs apart, then she’s leaning in, her head between Tab’s thighs, and she’s licking the lace covering Tabrett’s pussy.

“Fuck,” Tabrett breathes. She reaches down and pushes Bridget’s hair out of her face while Bridget looks up at her, blue eyes blazing, her hot tongue pressed to her panties. Tabrett feels it on her sex like they’re not even there.

Bridget teases her for a bit, nipping at her inner thighs, before she finally hooks two fingers around Tabrett’s damp panties and pulls them aside. Bridget spreads her open and Tabrett’s pussy is wet and pink and beautiful. She licks and laps at her, eyes closed in rapture, until Tab is moaning wantonly. “Mm, let’s get these off,” Bridget says, plucking at the black panties in her way.

“Nooo,” Tabrett groans. “So close, don’t stop.”

“What, already?” Bridget gives her a teasing lick. “You wanna come, baby?”

“Yes! God, Bridget, don’t be mean.”

Bridget mock-pouts. “When am I ever?”

“Times exactly like this?” Tabrett replies. She reaches for Bridget’s head, guiding her where she wants her. Bridget smiles indulgently and sets her mouth on Tabrett’s pussy, her tongue pushing and licking. Tabrett shudders and moans, pinching her own nipple, and before long Bridget’s watching the blonde come hard. Tabrett’s hand on the back of her head tries to push her harder against her pussy as her hips jerk into her mouth.

Bridget guides her through it, her gentle licks providing spasms of pleasure as she finishes. The taste of Tabrett’s come is heavy on her tongue. Bridget’s eyes close as she licks her lips.

“So what was that about?” Tabrett pants.

“You were driving me crazy in that dress,” Bridget says with a shrug.

Tab smiles at her. “You’re driving me crazy now.”

Bridget looks down at her own crimson lingerie, a stark contrast to her pale skin. “Yeah?” she husks, because it’s not like she isn’t wet between her thighs herself.

“Yeah,” Tabrett says. “Come on, your turn.”

They switch places; Bridget lays down full-length on the couch, and Tabrett climbs on top of her. Tabrett’s hair forms a golden curtain around her face as she positions herself over Bridget, her full lips slightly parted, green eyes are dark with intent.

Her co-star is gorgeous. Bridget bites her lip, so very glad she made the first move those few weeks ago.

Tabrett lowers herself onto Bridget’s body, leans in for a kiss, and it’s like they’ve been doing this forever. Bridget arches into her, more so when she feels Tab’s hand going to unhook her strapless bra. She pulls it free, and Bridget groans—Tabrett’s breasts are pressed against her own, their tongues are sliding in a deep kiss, and Tabrett’s hand is slipping inside her panties. It’s way too much, and it’s not nearly enough.

Tabrett takes her time working Bridget up. Her fingers work in slow, torturous circles around Bridget’s clit, taking detours to stroke her wet folds. She shifts down to take Bridget’s pink nipples in her mouth, one after the other, sucking and tonguing the hard peaks. “It’s so hard sometimes,” Tabrett says as she massages Bridget’s soft breasts, “seeing these beautiful tits locked away in a corset all day.”

Bridget laughs. “It may be hard for you, but it’s harder for them.”

Tabrett lifts her brow. “As long as they’re properly worshipped while they’re freed.”

“As long as,” Bridget agrees. “Tab…”


“Your fingers…please.”

Bridget squirms; Tabrett doesn’t stop circling her clit. “What do you want, babe?”

“Inside me,” Bridget murmurs, like she’s not a flushed and panting mess already.

Tabrett grins, slides two fingers into her, and Bridget sighs in pleasure. She is good at this.

Tabrett fucks her with a steady rhythm until she’s close, until Bridget is about to break. She has Bridget’s sensitive nipple in her mouth, the heel of her palm against her clit, and three fingers knuckle deep in her pussy, and she just needs a little more… “Tab, fuck,” she pants out, lifting her hips into Tabrett’s thrusts. “Harder.”

Tabrett sends her fingers deep, curls them on the way out, over and over, faster and faster, stroking her inner walls, until Bridget finally breaks, her cunt clenching down on Tabrett’s fingers. “Oh my God,” she breathes out, letting the pleasure wash over her. Tabrett kisses her while she comes down, and it’s lazy, relaxed. “That was amazing,” Bridget says. “You’re amazing.”

Tabrett smiles wide. “Glad you think so, babe.”

They sit up on the couch and stretch out to cool off—Bridget is flushed, her chest and cheeks shaded red, and Tabrett has a light sheen of sweat on her skin. Tabrett’s stomach ruins the peaceful moment with a low, long growl. Bridget quirks an eyebrow at her. “Well, this seems familiar.”

Tab shrugs sheepishly. Every time they spend an evening together like this, Bridget ends up cooking for Tabrett. The blonde is not exactly an aspiring chef.

“Come on,” Bridget says. “Let’s jump in the shower and then I’ll try and perform some powerful kitchen magic.”

“Mm, the best kind,” Tabrett says.