Hardly Easy: Great Scots Box Set by Donna Alam

Author:Donna Alam [Alam, Donna]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Donna Alam
Published: 2019-06-10T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

PAISLEY

‘Paisley? Could you grab the bounce board for me, sweetie?’

Standing in the kitchen area of the very gorgeous open-plan apartment we’re filming in today, I’m in the middle of making myself a cup of tea when Chastity calls me—on location, no less—from fabulous Barcelona. The apartment in the gothic quarter is nothing short of gorgeous—exposed pale stonework and marble floors, the space filled with sunlight spilling in from a pair of ornate French doors. There’s even a private balcony, which, I’m told, is rare in this ancient part of the city.

Chastity chose well because privacy is the key. No one filming or being filmed in this afternoon’s outdoor sequence wants to draw a crowd. Or be catcalled from nearby windows. Or find themselves the subject of an elderly lady’s showering of holy water and cries of Dios mío!

I’m told this has happened before.

Grabbing the folding reflector, I make my way into the lounge to where Antonio— yes, interview Antonio—has one foot on the floor and his knee on the chair that his partner for the day, Tianka, is kneeling on. It’s odd that I take in their positions before actually registering that the pair are naked.

‘Great,’ Chas says as I hold the silver reflector thingy up. ‘If you could just stand there . . . that’s it. Up a little bit? It’s just to diffuse the light.’

I hold the thing in front of me while he pretends to hump a very bored looking Tia from behind. Chas, meanwhile, takes some technical readings. Something to do with light ratios or something.

‘Right. We’re just about ready to go. Antonio?’ Of course, we all look at him and then at his flaccid member. Because it doesn’t look very ready. Or very happy. Though it still looks pretty big.

‘I’ll be there now, in a minute, beaut,’ he replies, his gaze flicking up from his crotch because, in the absence of a fluffer—and I’m not sure that fluffer is a job that really exists—Antonio is currently . . . playing with his man-meat.

I raise the reflector over my face, basically hiding behind it. And so much for thinking Keir couldn’t be Antonio Uccello because of his Scots accent because this Antonio doesn’t sound very Italian, either. Unless there’s an Italy in Cardiff. That’s Wales, FYI. His accent is sort of singsong-y with peaks and troughs of tone. But not very Italian.

And I don’t know how I could’ve confused Keir for him—Keir’s like Ben & Jerry’s Karamel Sutra to Antonio’s generic vanilla. Not that I suppose being an adult actor is considered vanilla. But there’s no comparison.

‘That’s a proper tidy result, that is.’

Antonio’s voice brings me back to the moment. I lower the reflector, unprepared to find him talking about his penis. I quickly raise it again because I’m not sure if he’s looking for a congratulations or a round of applause. Also, I need something to hide my giggles behind.

This current moment aside, it’s not like I’ve been present during much filming so far, which means I still struggle to school my expression and remain impassive at the best of times.

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