Slip of the Tongue

They stepped back into the booth. Callie gave Mike a quick nod. “Okay, we’re ready.”

Mike’s voice came through the speakers, calm and professional. “Welcome back. I’ve got your script pages already set up on your tablets. We’ll pick up from the top.”

Dakota glanced down at her screen and let out a small groan. “Oh, this scene again?”

Callie gave her a quizzical look.

“I just read this scene earlier today,” Dakota said.

“Oh, have you?”

“Yeah, I’ve been doing my homework.” Dakota reached into her bag and pulled out the paperback copy of Forces of Nature, holding it up like a trophy. “See?”

Callie’s eyebrows rose as she gave an exaggerated polite little clap. “I’m impressed.”

Dakota gave a little theatrical curtsy.

Mike chuckled. “Alright, ladies. Ready. Take it from the top. Ready when you are.”

They started reading. The words flowed more easily than Dakota expected.

“If we are to continue this relationship—” Callie delivered Jane’s lines in a much gentler, almost caring tone than the way Dakota had first imagined them—warmer, more intimate.

Dakota read, “Oh God, Jane—”

Callie gave her a baleful look, that made Dakota’s knees weak in a way the book had not. Then with a sheepish tone, Dakota read “I mean Professor”

Callie continued, “—we must be better about hiding our feelings for each other. Yes, I love you.”

Dakota’s heart thudded hard at the sound of Callie saying “I love you,” even in character.

Dakota read, her voice breathy, “I love you, too!”

The words sounded dangerously real to her ears. She wondered if Callie had heard it — if the words were pulling too much of her own feelings to the surface. Dakota felt utterly exposed under Callie’s gaze. The way she looked at Dakota across that tiny table made her wonder if she was giving too much away. Part of her wanted to pull back, to keep some distance. The other part was leaning in, hungry for more.

“And when you say you love me,” Dakota continued, “when you say we have to be careful, it makes me want to throw everything away just to be with you. I know it’s dangerous, I know we have to hide it, but I can’t stop thinking about you, I can’t stop wanting you, and I—”

Callie continued, “But I also love my job and have worked very hard to get where I am. And there’s also your academic future to think about. So we can’t be reckless. Not with so much at stake.”

As Dakota’s eyes scanned down the page, she was shocked at how steamy the scene was becoming. She hadn’t gotten this far in the book earlier. She thought she knew what she was getting into, but it was turning out to be a lot more intense than she’d expected. Every line felt like it was exposing her. She was supposed to be acting, but the words were hitting too close, stirring things she wasn’t ready to name.

Callie’s voice dropped, low and commanding.

Callie read, “Then show me, Mary. Spread your legs for me. Let me see how wet you are for me.”

Dakota read, voice trembling just a little, “Yes, Professor… I’m so wet for you. Please touch me.”

Callie leaned in slightly as she delivered the next lines, her tone velvet-smooth. “Good girl. You’re dripping for me already. I love how your body responds when I touch you here… so sensitive, so ready for my fingers.”

Dakota’s thighs pressed together under the table. She kept reading, the words hitting far too close. She felt more and more exposed, like Callie could see right through her performance.

Dakota read, “God, Professor… I love it when you’re inside me!”

Callie’s voice was husky. “You taste so good, Mary. I could spend hours between your legs, licking you until you come on my tongue.”

Dakota’s breath caught as her eyes passed over the next line. She pushed through it, voice growing softer, more aroused.

Dakota read, “Oh fuck, your fingers feel amazing, Callie—”

She felt a sudden change in the air, a charged pause. She looked up.

Callie was staring at her, eyes bright with amusement and something hotter underneath.

“What?” Dakota managed.

Dakota’s voice crackled through the speakers, as Mike replayed her last line with professional detachment. “Oh fuck, your fingers feel amazing, Callie!”

Dakota’s face burned. She wanted the floor to swallow her whole. “Sorry about that.”

Mike cleared his throat. “Okay, it gets even spicier from here on out. So just like last time, I’m going to go ahead and hit record and go out in the hall so you guys can do your thing. Just let me know when you’re done and I’ll come back in and check it out.”

The control room door clicked shut behind him, leaving the two of them alone in the booth.

Callie’s expression softened into something gentler. “From the top then? Whenever you’re ready, Dakota.”

Dakota read the corrected line, then kept going as the scene built toward the climax. Her voice grew breathier with every line.

“Yes… yes… Oh, fuck. Yes!”

Callie's hand in her's, warm and reassuring.

“Don’t stop. Don’t stop. Right there.”

Callie’s fingers brushing her cheek in the bathroom, gentle and focused.

Callie leaned in slightly, delivering the next line with dark satisfaction. “Come for me, Mary. Let me feel how hard you come on my fingers. That’s my good girl.”

Callie’s breasts pressed against her in the car as she reached for the seatbelt.

Dakota’s pulse was loud in her ears. Heat pooled low in her belly. Her free hand gripped the side of the table harder, knuckles whitening. She was so close she could feel the edge, her body responding whether she wanted it to or not.

The last line left her mouth in a broken whisper.

“I’m coming… oh fuck, I’m coming.”

The booth fell quiet. Was Callie studying her? Was that the shadow of a smile at the corner of those perfectly lush, kissable lips of hers? Were her pupils dilated just a bit?

Dakota sat there, trying not to visibly pant, her heart hammering against her ribs. All the while, she felt raw and exposed, like she would actually fucking come right then and there if Callie didn't stop looking at her like that.

She finally said, voice unsteady, “What? Did I do something wrong again?”

Callie’s smirk was soft, almost fond. “No. That was ...very convincing.”

Dakota rolled her eyes. “Oh please. I’m a trained actress. I was just acting. Don't tell me you haven't faked an orgasm or twelve to keep from hurting your boyfriend’s feelings.”

Callie shook her head. “Not even once.”

“Lucky you,” Dakota muttered.

The booth fell quiet for a long moment. Dakota’s heart was still racing, her skin warm under the concealer. She cleared her throat, trying to sound casual.

“So should we go get Mike or…?”

Callie leaned back in her chair, a small, knowing smile playing at the corner of her mouth. “Not just yet.”

Dakota let out a shaky laugh. “Ugh, not another take. Come on. You said it was great.”

Callie’s smile widened, something playful and a little wicked in her eyes. “Yeah, that’s going to be a tough act to follow.”

Dakota paused. “Wait a minute. You mean…?”

Callie bit her bottom lip. Dakota would have fallen over if she wasn’t already sitting down. Was that blush rising in her cheeks? Or was that just the blush she applied this morning?

Callie’s voice was low, almost teasing. “Well, I don’t know what goes on in your bedroom, but normally after one partner is finished, they help the other partner finish.”

Dakota’s pulse kicked up again. “So it’s your turn.”

Callie’s smirk deepened. “Yep. You think you’re up for it? I recall you promising to rock my world. Time to see what you’ve got.”

Dakota cracked her knuckles, the sound sharp in the small booth. “Oh yeah. Let’s do this.”

Dakota took a deep breath and looked Callie square in those lustrous blue eyes.

“Okay, Professor. Your turn.”

Callie read, “What are you looking at, Mary?”

Dakota answered, voice lower than she meant it to be, “You, professor.”

Callie continued, “And do you like what you see?”

Dakota replied, “Oh, very much, professor. I want to make your body my entire field of study.”

Callie’s mouth curved, just slightly. “Well then… come here so that I can instruct you.”

The booth felt smaller the second the line left her lips. Dakota shifted on her stool, script tablet suddenly heavy in her hands. Callie leaned into the mic, voice dropping into that low, precise register that always made Dakota’s pulse trip.

“That’s it. Start with your mouth. Kiss me here—” Callie’s delivery slowed, deliberate. “Slow. Use your tongue. I want to feel how badly you want to learn.”

Dakota read, voice already breathy, “Yes, professor… like this?”

“Good girl,” Callie murmured, and the praise slid straight down Dakota’s spine. “Now lower. Take your time. I’m not going to make this easy for you.”

Dakota’s thighs pressed together under the table. A shiver ran down her spine. Heat was already pooling between her legs, traitorous and immediate. She kept her eyes on the page, but every word from Callie’s mouth landed like a direct touch.

Callie continued, her tone growing breathier. “Use the flat of your tongue on my clit—yes, just like that. Slow circles… tighter. Now suck. Harder. There. You’re getting wet just from tasting me, aren’t you, Mary?”

Dakota read, cheeks burning, “Yes… I’m so wet for you, professor.”

Callie’s tone sharpened, demanding. “Two fingers now. Slide them in deep. Curl them—right there. Don’t you dare speed up until I say. I want to feel you fucking me like you’re trying to earn an A.”

Dakota’s free hand gripped the edge of the table hard enough that her knuckles went white. Her breath had gone shallow. Every precise order from Callie’s mouth felt aimed straight at the ache between her legs. She was right on the edge, pulse hammering, one more filthy instruction away from making a sound she couldn’t take back.

“Faster—three fingers. Don’t stop sucking. Good girl. I’m so close… make me come for you, Mary.”

Callie’s voice fractured on the last lines. Her face transformed—eyes fluttering shut, lips parting on a soft, desperate gasp, cheeks flushed with a radiant, almost holy glow. It looked so real, so angelic and wrecked at the same time, that Dakota’s stomach clenched hard with raw want.

“I’m coming—oh fuck, I’m coming for you—”

The final moan rolled out of her like it had been torn from somewhere deep. The booth went completely quiet. Just the two of them and the faint equipment hum and Dakota’s own ragged breathing. She sat there, thighs slick, clit aching so badly she had to lock her jaw to keep from making a sound.

God, she hoped the take was fucked up so they’d have to do it again. She wanted to see that face—hear that voice—over and over until she had it memorized.

“Jesus Christ,” Dakota muttered, voice rough, fanning herself with her hand. “That was incredible. I thought you said you’ve never faked an orgasm.”

Callie let out a soft, satisfied laugh, still a little flushed as she leaned back. “I did some acting in middle school and high school. Turns out it stuck.”

Dakota shook her head, grinning despite the fire still burning low. “Theater kid. I should have known.”

Callie arched one elegant brow, playful and sharp. “And you weren’t? Miss ‘I’m a professional actress’ over here.”

“Nah. Came to it late. College.” Dakota shrugged, but her eyes kept drifting back to Callie’s mouth, the faint sheen of sweat at her throat, that devastating afterglow. She wanted the real version of that O-face. Badly.

Callie glanced over after they wrapped the take, her expression softening a fraction. “Need a break?”

Dakota felt suddenly horribly naked under that look. Could Callie see straight through her clothes? Did she know? Dakota’s face burned as she let out a shaky laugh, thighs still pressed tight. “Now that you mention it… yeah.”

She was out of the booth and down the hall before she could second-guess herself, locking the women’s room door behind her with a decisive click. No ninjas today. Not on her watch.

The second she was alone, she leaned against the sink and groaned. Her panties were soaked. Again. Sober this time, which somehow made it worse. Last time she’d been drunk enough to just peel them off and toss a perfectly good fifty-dollar pair of Victoria’s Secret in the trash without a second thought. Now? She was painfully aware she couldn’t keep doing that. Rent was rent, and her bank account had already filed a complaint. She was going to have to start wearing the cheap ones to these sessions from now on. The thought made her grimace.

“Fuck my life,” she muttered, shimmying out of her jeans and then hooking her thumbs into the waistband of her ruined underwear. They came off with an embarrassing wet sound. She stood there in nothing but her shirt and socks, the cool tile under her feet, and for one deranged half-second actually considered getting herself off right there.

She looked at the questionable stall floors and immediately killed that idea. Nope. Too far. Even for her.

She ran the panties under cold water, focusing on the gusset, wrung them out as hard as she could until her hands ached, then marched over to the hand dryer and jammed the button. The loud whoosh filled the small room as she angled the fabric under the hot air, flapping the affected area around like a ridiculous flag. Come on, come on, dry faster you piece of shit—

That was when she heard someone try to push the door open. It thudded hard against the deadbolt.

Then a muffled, confused, “What on earth…?”

Knocking. Sharp but polite.

“Dakota?” Callie’s voice, slightly strained. “Dakota, let me in. I gotta go.”

Dakota froze, panties still flapping under the dryer. Oh god, not now. “Just one second! One second!”

“What the hell is going on?” Callie called, a hint of amused exasperation creeping in. “Come on, Dakota, whatever deranged thing you’re doing in there, it can’t be any worse than what I’ve already seen you do.”

“Don’t underestimate me, fangirl,” Dakota shot back, voice cracking as she fumbled to get the damn things dry enough to put back on. Her pulse thundered in her ears. Callie had already seen her at some of her lowest points, but this? Standing in a public bathroom in nothing but a shirt and socks, drying her soaked panties like a broke disaster goblin? She would never recover.

“Dakota, hurry up. It’s an emergency. I really gotta go.”

“Almost done!” she called back. She finally yanked her underwear back on—still a little damp, but wearable—then scrambled into her jeans, hopping on one foot. The dryer cut off. She took one last frantic look in the mirror, face flushed, and unlocked the door.

The hallway was empty.

Callie was gone.

A wave of relief washed over her, followed immediately by a sharp twist of guilt. Shit. She really did have to go.

Back in the booth a few minutes later, Dakota dropped onto one of the stools, trying to look casual and failing miserably. “Sorry about that. I guess you found a potted plant or something.”

Callie was already standing at her music stand again, arms crossed, looking equal parts frustrated and amused. Not fully angry, but definitely not thrilled. “No. But I can tell you what the inside of the men’s room looks like now. Thank you very much.”

Dakota winced, then couldn’t help the grin that broke across her face. “Noted. Next time I’ll be faster.”

Mike stepped back into the booth a couple minutes later, looking a little sheepish. “Sorry about the delay. The bathroom door was locked.”

Dakota and Callie locked eyes for half a second. Callie bit her lip. Dakota quickly hid her face behind her tablet. Both of them were fighting hard not to laugh.

Mike settled behind the glass and hit the talkback. “So I listened back. Overall, really good. But I think it’s best if we do at least one more take, just in case.”

Yesssss. The word sang through Dakota’s head like a victory chant. This was exactly what she’d been hoping for.

Dakota was feeling pretty pleased with herself, and frankly, didn’t care. Clearly Callie could see it too, because she looked at her with an expression that was equal parts confused and bemused.

They ran through it again. This time Dakota was ready. The second Callie started giving those low, filthy instructions, Dakota’s mind locked onto her emergency mantra.

Baseball. Garbage trucks. Oatmeal raisin cookies.

She repeated it in her head while she delivered her lines, keeping her voice steady and her panties dry.

Baseball. Garbage trucks. Oatmeal raisin cookies.

Callie’s delivery stayed flawless, commanding, devastating. When she reached the climax, her voice fractured exactly the same way.

“I’m coming—oh fuck, I’m coming for you—”

Dakota’s brain short-circuited. Boobs. Goddammit. Fuck! ***

After a few more takes, Dakota managed to escape with some shred of her dignity intact. She stepped out onto the sidewalk, the nighttime city lights glowing around her, and unlocked her phone to order an Uber. The screen lit up with a barrage of notifications.

Dakota’s thumb hovered over the messages. A pang of guilt twisted in her chest. She knew she’d handled this badly. Ghosting Lauren. Yelling at Taylor. Neither of them deserved this. It was her fault, at least partly.

She was about to close the app when she heard raised voices from around the corner of the building. Callie. Arguing with her boyfriend again. The sound made Dakota’s stomach tighten.

She shoved the phone in her pocket and tried to focus on ordering the Uber. Before she could even open the app, a familiar car pulled up to the curb. Lauren.

Lauren got out, looking equal parts relieved and frustrated. “Dakota. Finally. I’ve been texting you for hours.”

Dakota sighed, shoulders slumping. “Lauren, you’ve got to stop. You have to stop showing up at my jobs like this.”

Lauren’s eyes widened, genuine hurt flashing across her face. “Well, what else am I supposed to do? You haven’t answered any of my texts. You haven’t answered my calls. You’re not at home, you’re not at the coffee shop — this is the only place left I thought I might be able to find you. I was worried about you. I didn’t know what happened. Just talk to me for God’s sake! Please?”

Dakota rubbed her temple, the guilt sharper now. “I can’t do this right now.”

“You can’t do what?” Lauren pressed, voice cracking. “Give me five minutes of your time?”

The argument built quickly, voices rising on the busy sidewalk. Dakota was mid-sentence trying to explain for the hundredth time that she just did not have the emotional bandwidth to deal with this right now, when she felt a warm hand slip into hers. Callie had appeared out of nowhere, quietly claiming her fingers like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Fucking ninja.

Callie looked Lauren up and down, appraising her slowly. It was clear by Lauren’s expression that Callie had found her wanting.

“You must be the ex,” Callie said coolly. “Lauren, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah. Who the fuck are you?” Lauren snapped.

Callie’s smile was small and razor-sharp. “I’m Dakota’s girlfriend. Callie.”

Dakota’s brain glitched. The words hit like a live wire. What was happening?

Lauren’s gaze snapped to Dakota, hot with betrayal. “So who’s the cheater now?”

Dakota was completely speechless. Callie was giving another Oscar worthy performance. Way to go, drama kid…

Callie gave Dakota’s fingers a gentle squeeze. “We were on a break. Clearly mistakes were made. But nothing that can’t be forgiven.” She looked deep into Dakota’s eyes. “I know a good thing when I’ve got it. Right, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart? Was this really happening?

Then Callie turned, slipped one arm around Dakota's waist then cupped her face with her free hand, then dipped her right there on the sidewalk and kissed her. Full, deep, no hesitation — a slow, claiming French kiss right in front of Lauren, the passing cars, and the whole damn world.

Holy fuck, this was happening! The world tilted as Callie’s mouth moved against hers, warm and sure, her tongue sliding in with a confidence that made Dakota’s knees buckle. Heat flooded her body, a rush of want so sudden and sharp it left her dizzy. For a moment the whole world narrowed to the taste of Callie, the firm press of her body, the way her fingers tightened possessively at the small of Dakota’s back. This wasn’t acting. This couldn’t be acting. Could it?

Dakota’s phone slipped from her other hand and clattered to the pavement.

After Callie righted her Dakota wasn't sure who was more shocked, her or Lauren.

Lauren’s face cycled through confusion, then raw sadness, then hot, bright anger like Dakota had never seen. She spun on her heel, yanked open her car door, and spat, “Fine. You can have my leftovers.”

As Lauren slammed the door and started the engine, Callie called after her, voice light and cutting, “It always tastes better the next day!”

After Lauren's car was out of sight, Callie turned to her, “You alright? That sounded ugly.”

No worse than you and your boyfriend Dakota thought. Then she said, “Yeah. I'm fine. Thanks for that.” That amazing, earth shattering, toe curling kiss. “That was some stellar acting. I hope you’ve got an acceptance speech ready.”

It was Callie's turn to look pleased with herself. “I've been wanting to do that all day.”

“What? Ride to the rescue?”

“Mmm,” said Callie with a grin, “Just like the storybooks.”

Dakota guessed that made her the damsel. Fair enough, she was certainly in distress.

Callie started walking toward the back parking lot. Dakota bent to pick up her phone, wincing at the new dent in the side.

“Are you coming or what?” Callie called over her shoulder. Dakota turned, looking at her quizzically.

“Or don’t you want a ride home?”