Denied Invitations :: RPF, Gabrielle Christian/Mandy Musgrave, crush
Written for this porn battle. Was vastly too long to post at the actual site, so I must link it.
It is not perfect, but I hope someone enjoys it - I, surprisingly, loved writing it.
Oh, she loves him. That’s not the issue. He is just not the only one that she loves.
But things like that, things like the unvarnished truth, sound so much better in her head.
Or when she is slightly drunk.
Kind of like a character she once played… kind of like all the characters she plays… they are all a little trashed, a little wasted, a little prone to bottle-diving.
Matt rarely stopped her, back when set parties lasted until dawn. He always joined in.
It was Gabrielle who always rained on the parade - in more ways than one, in more ways than Mandy could ever admit to anyone.
/
“Where’s Chris?”
“Outside doing jello shots.”
“Great. He’ll be asleep during roll call tomorrow.”
“I plan on doing the same. Sleeping, I plan on sleeping all day.”
Gabby’s smile is indulgent and coveted - everyone wants it in front of them.
It vaguely reminds one of a mother, so tender in her scolding. Endlessly gentle, that’s the sensation… it runs up and down Mandy’s spine like cool water.
She fucking loves that feeling, has from day one - when innocent blue eyes flashed quickly at some joke and a honey-dipped chuckle tumbled out and it became her goal in life to make Gabrielle Christian always sound like that - and she loves it even more now.
“You always tell me to stop you from drinking so much before a day on set.”
“And you always try and I always do it anyway.”
“Then you tell me to stay with you, claiming lots of popcorn-“
“Or brownies.”
“Yea… it never happens, Musgrave. You pass out and leave me with a shoulder full of drool.”
She is so happy that the lights are dim and the music is loud - anything to cover up her insecure little blush, the one that is breaking out over her face.
Only Gabby can do that to her these days. Not even Cohen and his pranks. Not even flubbed lines and missed marks.
Just Gabby and her careless comments, never with a shred of malice, only a touch of judgment and a whole lot of affection.
And that is where Mandy always finds herself tripping up.
That damn affection is tripping her up something awful and it is into that familiar blonde smile that she is always falling.
And that can’t be good.
/
They talk on the phone. Sometimes.
There is always this line, though, right down the middle of their conversations - one that they can’t cross simply because they already crossed it.
When you cross certain lines, you are forever on the other side of whatever it was.
Childhood to adulthood.
Parents house to your own place.
Friend to lover.
Matt is always home these days, scripts littered around his tiki-bar, and Gabrielle has already sent out those wedding invitations and so Mandy hangs up before she possibly says something really stupid.
Like ‘don’t do it, don’t be like me, don’t lose one to save the other’.
/
Valery, oddly enough, is the one who calls it - sweetly taking her hand and pulling her aside and whispering a warning into her ear like it is a dangerous secret.
And hell, maybe it is that dangerous. Maybe it is a bomb about to go off. Maybe every single person here is preparing for the fallout.
“Honey, watch yourself, okay?”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“We all get lost in roles sometimes, but your eyes are all over her. Have been all night.”
“Please. My eyes are everywhere tonight, Val, I am buzzed out of mind.”
“So are you telling me, for real, that you are not totally crushing on Christian?”
Mandy doesn’t want to smile, really she doesn’t, but the beer is still pumping heavy through her system and ‘crushing on Christian’ is such an awesome term and it is exactly what she is doing.
And despite all the red flags going up in her head, smiling is all she wants to do when she thinks of Gabby.
Valery shakes her head and it isn’t cold or mean or anything like that.
She’s a good actress and no one gets it, not really, she is not a bitch at all - and Mandy wraps her up in a somewhat drunken hug.
“Stop drinking for the night. That’s my advice to you.”
“Okay, Mom.”
But they playfully shove away from each other and Mandy’s eyes are already seeking out someone else and it turns her stomach into knots - the good kind, which is the bad kind, too - when Gabby waves from the other side of the room, blatantly ignoring whatever one of the grips is shouting into her face.
And Mandy doesn’t need to save Gabby from dull topics or dull people. It’s not her job. Even though they are good friends. Even though they’ve lived together before. Even though they spend almost every night together, sober or otherwise.
It’s not her duty. It’s not even her place.
She does it anyway.
She walks right over and grabs Gabby’s hand and they weave past all the grins and the attempts at dancing and they leave just as things are gearing up.
Gabby smiles and Mandy almost hates how good seeing that smile makes her feel.
/
Gabrielle’s looks are so deliciously sly, sitting there and taking some direction from Angela.
And Mandy wasn’t sure they would ever work with each other again.
But she was more nervous that they inevitably would.
Matt calls about this and that and Mandy rolls her eyes, not to be harsh… not like that at all.
Because she does love him. That’s not the issue.
He just isn’t the only one she loves. And that fact is rushing back to her now, whether she wants it to or not.
Gabrielle takes the phone, says hello so nicely and then tells him to ‘leave us alone, we are trying to make out’. Everyone on set busts out and Matt takes it so well.
And for a split second, their eyes meet and something ancient is being said… then it is shut down fast, as if that world never even existed.
/
The couch is for movie-watching, not for sleeping - unless it is sleep that comes without preamble.
But if they are awake enough to make it to Mandy’s bed, then that is where they always end up.
Gabby’s feet are perpetually cold and Mandy always complains when they brush up against her bare legs and then they usually fall into some form of verbal sparring - all in jest, of course.
Tonight is no different.
The lights are out and someone just said something about sharp toenails and there is an inordinate amount of giggling this time around.
And there is a light push against an arm, which leads to a nudge-like response and suddenly it isn’t just words that they are using anymore.
And she wishes she were a little more drunk, not so aware of how soft Gabby’s hands are - because they’ve always felt delicate and smooth, but that’s when they are pretending to be other people… other girls in love with one another… and, fuck it all, Mandy is not in love with Gabby. It’s just a crush.
Right? Right.
“Gabby, don’t you dare tickle me or I’ll put you in a headlock.”
“Promises, promises…”
“I will, don’t tempt me--”
“Uh huh, suuuuure…”
Those tricky fingers are moving, though, and they slip up under her tank top and they skim over her skin so wonderfully - somewhere between painful and perfect - and she is biting her bottom lip, squeezing her eyes shut… trying not to crack, trying not to give in.
But give in to what exactly?
That question is lingering all over her body, brought to life by this touch that she so wants and so can’t have and she knows it’s not just laughter she is attempting to hold back because it is a moan that waits in her throat.
“Ready to say uncle?”
Gabby’s voice is close and she can feel the breath on her face and her own eyes open without her consent and those fingers slow down to a crawl and it is so far from funny now.
Maybe it was never that funny to begin with anyway.
And she wishes she were a little more drunk, then she could blame it all on that and not have to say the words and not have to feel more than she ever should and then Valery wouldn’t be right and that first day would just be a footnote instead of a whole chapter in Mandy’s mind.
But her head is lifting up, tilting to the side and drawing near and there is enough time to stop all of this from happening… but neither of them does that.
Tonight is different.
They don’t kiss like a camera is watching tonight.
They kiss like lovers tonight.
Strangely familiar, but oh so new, they kiss - the slow kind of clench only lasting for a few moments - and then they are on fire and those kisses are somewhat sloppy in their heat, hitting jaws and teeth and then tongues come out and she can’t keep that moan at bay anymore.
It doesn’t break the momentum, though.
It actually kicks everything else into motion and that hand is trailing upwards and Mandy locks her fingers into blonde hair and now those kisses are deeper, now those kisses are hotter.
And her hands cannot stay in one place anymore, leaving behind tresses and sliding over the back and raising up the shirt there and finding warm flesh and then going further down… permission granted with a gasp into her mouth as fingertips delve under the band of thin shorts.
She can answer in her own series of groans, though, because Gabby’s hand has just reached its destination and is surprisingly rough upon her breast and she has to fight the urge to come right then because it feel so fucking amazing - firm and real and sure - but it is nothing compared to the mouth that leaves her own and then clamps down on her nipple, sucking and pulling despite the clothing present.
And that does it, that cuts her down and renders her to ash, because now there really is no turning back, now there will never be a time where she won’t want this… again and again.
She rears up, out of need, and then doesn’t stop coming up - jerking Gabby to her body in one swift movement, legs around her waist, and she pulls at the shirt… and Gabby removes it… and they repeat this once more.
Now they are really touching and they are so close and their lips are no longer just kissing, they are crashing and careening and claiming. They are leaving bruises on necks and Gabby’s hips are moving and Mandy shudders because this is better than every dream she’s ever had - and she has had them, over and over, since that first damn day - and so she can’t wait anymore.
As teeth latch onto her shoulder and as she pants breathlessly, she thrusts her hand past the only barrier left and silken wetness greets her and Gabby pushes down hard, rocking and begging and demanding and Mandy intends to give the woman exactly what they both want.
One finger and Gabby says ‘please’.
Two fingers and Gabby’s hips jerk quickly.
Three fingers and Mandy is pumping into her with abandon and her own arousal is on overload and pulsing in time with each thrust and she is almost convinced that she will get off just by witnessing Gabby orgasm and that turns her on even more.
Arms around her neck and lips all over her and one hand on the small of Gabby’s back and one hand in motion, fingers curling and curling, and those fucking blue eyes - gorgeous and wide and pure - stare right into her as Gabby tightens and convulses and softly curses.
Mandy bites her lip so hard that it draws blood. Gabby languidly licks the wound, tongue drifting in and out of her mouth.
And they kiss like lovers do, like Mandy and Gabby - not Ashley and Spencer, not by a long shot.
Gabby pushes her down and stays straddling her and creates a masterpiece with her lips and hands all along Mandy’s body and when Gabby’s mouth is pressed so confidently against her extremely sensitive and wet center… she is lost, completely and totally lost to this woman.
From the first day, from the very first fucking day, and this is all she has wanted - the two of them, like this, always like this and crushes aren’t supposed to be this intense and love isn’t supposed to be here at all… but… but…
Gabby’s inside of her now and the tip of that tongue is on her clit and she is undulating wildly and fisting that blonde hair and she isn’t quiet about any of it - growls and whimpers and she even cried out ‘Gabrielle’, which could have made things too real… but it just made it better, made the movement more raw and more dedicated and when she came it was like she had finally found home.
/
They are having a drink with everyone and the two of them are like an old vaudeville team - telling stories and finishing each other’s sentences and cracking up the cast, cracking up the director.
Matt calls and asks if he can join and Mandy never says no, even though… she kind of wants to, at least this time around.
And she loves him. He is easy to love. That’s not the issue.
But she wishes he was the only one she loved. That would make things even easier.
Every once in a while, Angela gets this look on her face like she knows so much more than she should and it reminds Mandy of Valery - who she really needs to call up one day soon and they should have coffee or something and talk - but Mandy decides she can’t always hide.
And where better to indulge these not-so-hidden, yet hidden, feelings then around a group of lesbians?
But someone asks, as they always do, and Gabrielle is flashing that thousand-watt smile and that simple diamond ring makes the rounds and everyone is cooing and Mandy hates the way it makes her feel anything at all.
/
If you had posed the situation to her and asked how it would have played out, she might have said insanely uncomfortable. Especially since they are all so close on set and one look could possibly give them away and then there is the post-sex awkwardness - because it wasn’t meant to happen and Gabby isn’t talking about it and neither is Mandy.
They act as if it hasn’t happened. And that works for a week or so.
Until it just happens again and that means it isn’t a total fluke, that it isn’t a build-up of actress passion gone astray and it becomes clear that they are saying a whole hell of a lot… just not with phrases and stutters and declarations.
At least, that’s what Mandy tells herself when a hand steals her own and then they are in one of the trailers while everyone else is at the concession table and it smells vaguely musty in here - all the clothes and boxes and such - but Gabby’s skin smells like heaven on Earth and she is thoroughly addicted to that scent and her lips are already firmly attached to a bare shoulder, sucking and biting and soothing with the entire length of her tongue.
“Should we have put out a sign? If the trailer is a-rockin’…” Gabby giggles into her ear softly and then teeth are biting that earlobe and Mandy moans deep and she digs her nails into Gabby’s hips - trying to find purchase past denim and so she goes up under that short skirt, loving how blindingly warm the woman is to the touch and how it causes a pooling of desire to spring forth.
They are up against the wall now, neither of them able to fully stay standing, and she is trying harder than she has at anything to keep from grinding against Gabby’s thigh - not because she doesn’t want to, but those words traveling in her teased ear are still true…
No one needs to know what they are up to.
Not that anyone would treat them badly. How could they and keep running a show like this one?
But no one needs to know about this, about what they do to one another, about Gabby’s hand unzipping and cupping and pressing and how Mandy crushes their lips together so that her ecstasy has somewhere safe to blow up.
No one needs to know about that.
/
She has had four or five beers and that line is getting deceptively faint now.
Matt is being taunted, nicely, by all the girls and he is taking it on the chin like a pro and they are complimenting his outfit and he is preening just a tad.
He smiles over at her, a simple gesture, and she returns it and then he goes back to whatever conversation he is having with that gaggle of women.
“Even gay ones love him.”
“Yea, it’s the mascara he likes to wear. Fools them all.”
Gabrielle laughs that special laugh, the one that Mandy just cannot forget, and they smile at one another. Simply smiling and that line almost disappears, growing more and more distant… less of an obstacle and more of an eager memory.
Or maybe that is just her, just what she is feeling because of alcohol and too much thinking, because the lights in this room just keep catching on Gabrielle’s ring and Mandy can’t look at it.
Kind of like she sometimes can’t look at the ring on her own fourth finger and not be reminded of what she gave up, once upon a time, because she didn’t know how to give everything to someone - not like she could now, if she had half a chance…
Which she doesn’t. Not a chance at all.
“I gotta go. I’m getting too old for these late night things.”
“You? Old? C’mon… stick around for a while longer. Matt’s the honorary dyke tonight and I’ll be all alone if you go.”
“I don’t know…”
“Gabby…”
The woman beside her knows that tone and Mandy watches, transfixed, as the corner of a bottom lip is tenderly tugged on in thought and not so long ago that would have been an invitation and Mandy would take it and they would leave this party.
They would leave this party and go back to her apartment and they would strip each other and they would somehow turn fucking into making love… without ever saying a damn thing.
There is a flutter of lips against her cheek, a whisper of kiss, and Gabrielle is smiling again and Mandy blinks as if the trance is broken. Which it is. Which it has to be.
Because there are rings on fingers and too much time has passed and that line is now thick and black and highly noticeable.
“I’ve got to go.”
“Okay.”
“See you in a couple of weeks for post work, though, right?”
“Yea. Yea, in a couple of weeks.”
Gabrielle says good-bye to everyone and Matt comes over, wrapping up Mandy from behind, and she loves him… she really does love him. He is so easy to love.
That’s not the issue.
She just doesn’t love him as much as she loves the woman walking out the door.
/
It was one date and she isn’t really sure why she took him up on it and the whole night - in between his joking and his kissing - she couldn’t help but wonder what Gabby was up to.
And seeing the light on at two in the morning was all she needed to cause her fist to knock on the door.
Gabby stands there, hair up in a messy ponytail and the script in her hand and disheveled pajamas and bare feet and her apartment smells like chocolate - cookies to be exact - and Mandy wakes up even though she was feeling tired just minutes ago.
Just the sight of Gabby sometimes jerks Mandy back to the world like others use an alarm clock.
“So… how was it?”
And there is something there, an edge - the sliver of an unknown knife - in that blue gaze and it is making a play for passivity and Mandy doesn’t like it, but then… she is the one to put it there to begin with.
“C’mon Gabby, it was a date. You know, dinner and bullshit… you know, it’s Cohen.”
“Great. Good.”
And there is something there, symmetry that is terrifying and she wonders if the roles are somehow coming to life - triangles that shouldn’t be and yet they are - and Mandy doesn’t like it, but then… she is egging it on and it feels like the biggest kind of mistake to make… but much like the girl she is in celluloid, she can’t seem to help herself.
“Can I come in?”
“It’s late.”
“You’re up.”
“So?”
“Soooo… you know I can’t sleep well without you. Let’s go back to mine.”
“I, uh, don’t think so, not tonight.”
“Gabby…”
And there is that tone and she knows it works wonders with the woman before her and Gabby’s brow furrows in contemplation and it is an invitation and Mandy takes it.
She leans in and captures lips and they part like they always tend to do and there is nothing better than feeling the whole of Gabby against her body - she kicks the door shut and the script falls to the floor and Gabby is walking them backwards and to the bedroom.
Everything is slower this time, though. And Mandy doesn’t like it… which is a total lie… because she loves it all too well, she loves it all too much, she loves… she loves… she loves…
Gabby’s legs are around her hips and they are moving so steadily against one another and everything is hot and wet and better than anything else.
Those fine hands pull her mouth down and they kiss and they orgasm at the same time - bodies meeting up like twin waves, colliding and hissing and merging.
And they stay like that, intertwined and sweaty, the rest of the early morning and into the dawn.
Gabby’s fingertips stir her back to the land of the living and there is something there, in that graze of flesh on flesh - it sounds a lot like a question and maybe a wish or two… and Mandy doesn’t like it, but then… she is more like that teenage girl than she would ever say, vacillating between complete happiness and just a daydream… and the answers lie in her heart, but she refuses to give them.
Cohen asks her out again and she agrees.
And they talk. And they kiss some.
It’s easy to be with a guy like that.
But when she comes home, this time, the lights are not on.
And they never come back on, not for days and days and then it is months and months.
And she can’t get back what she let slip away and it shouldn’t hurt so much, because it was just a crush… right? It wasn’t anything like love.
Right? Right.
But she envies ‘Ashley’ now, because at least ‘Ashley’ has ‘Spencer’.
And Mandy can’t get Gabby to look at her once the shout of ‘cut’ has been heard.
/
Oh she loves him. That’s not the issue. He is just not the only one that she loves. He is just not the one she loves the most. He is just not the one.
He is just easy to love.
And love is actually quite hard to manage.
She should know.
But there is an ivory RSVP on the desk and she glares at it and time doesn’t stand still - it only feels like that when you fall in love and can’t shake loose the longing and ache to be in the presence of the one who owns your heart - and she will find a way to not make it to this wedding.
Kind of like Gabrielle couldn’t make it to hers.
Kind of like all the dinners they used to have, the four of them, where the guys talked about regular things and their respective girlfriends couldn’t stop watching each other - pick up the glass and take a sip, cut the meat and take a bite, push back the hair and scratch the arm, smile a little and tilt the head…
“Should I ask for a day off in advance?”
“Uh, no, I won’t be able to make it. Got that reading with that CBS show remember?”
“Oh yea, right. Cool. Want me to send our apologies to the bride and groom?”
“Sure. You do that. Thanks.”
And she throws the invitation away.
Kind of like she did not so long ago, in another life… and this one hurts just as much.
If not more. If not so much more.
///
::END::
It is not perfect, but I hope someone enjoys it - I, surprisingly, loved writing it.
Oh, she loves him. That’s not the issue. He is just not the only one that she loves.
But things like that, things like the unvarnished truth, sound so much better in her head.
Or when she is slightly drunk.
Kind of like a character she once played… kind of like all the characters she plays… they are all a little trashed, a little wasted, a little prone to bottle-diving.
Matt rarely stopped her, back when set parties lasted until dawn. He always joined in.
It was Gabrielle who always rained on the parade - in more ways than one, in more ways than Mandy could ever admit to anyone.
/
“Where’s Chris?”
“Outside doing jello shots.”
“Great. He’ll be asleep during roll call tomorrow.”
“I plan on doing the same. Sleeping, I plan on sleeping all day.”
Gabby’s smile is indulgent and coveted - everyone wants it in front of them.
It vaguely reminds one of a mother, so tender in her scolding. Endlessly gentle, that’s the sensation… it runs up and down Mandy’s spine like cool water.
She fucking loves that feeling, has from day one - when innocent blue eyes flashed quickly at some joke and a honey-dipped chuckle tumbled out and it became her goal in life to make Gabrielle Christian always sound like that - and she loves it even more now.
“You always tell me to stop you from drinking so much before a day on set.”
“And you always try and I always do it anyway.”
“Then you tell me to stay with you, claiming lots of popcorn-“
“Or brownies.”
“Yea… it never happens, Musgrave. You pass out and leave me with a shoulder full of drool.”
She is so happy that the lights are dim and the music is loud - anything to cover up her insecure little blush, the one that is breaking out over her face.
Only Gabby can do that to her these days. Not even Cohen and his pranks. Not even flubbed lines and missed marks.
Just Gabby and her careless comments, never with a shred of malice, only a touch of judgment and a whole lot of affection.
And that is where Mandy always finds herself tripping up.
That damn affection is tripping her up something awful and it is into that familiar blonde smile that she is always falling.
And that can’t be good.
/
They talk on the phone. Sometimes.
There is always this line, though, right down the middle of their conversations - one that they can’t cross simply because they already crossed it.
When you cross certain lines, you are forever on the other side of whatever it was.
Childhood to adulthood.
Parents house to your own place.
Friend to lover.
Matt is always home these days, scripts littered around his tiki-bar, and Gabrielle has already sent out those wedding invitations and so Mandy hangs up before she possibly says something really stupid.
Like ‘don’t do it, don’t be like me, don’t lose one to save the other’.
/
Valery, oddly enough, is the one who calls it - sweetly taking her hand and pulling her aside and whispering a warning into her ear like it is a dangerous secret.
And hell, maybe it is that dangerous. Maybe it is a bomb about to go off. Maybe every single person here is preparing for the fallout.
“Honey, watch yourself, okay?”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“We all get lost in roles sometimes, but your eyes are all over her. Have been all night.”
“Please. My eyes are everywhere tonight, Val, I am buzzed out of mind.”
“So are you telling me, for real, that you are not totally crushing on Christian?”
Mandy doesn’t want to smile, really she doesn’t, but the beer is still pumping heavy through her system and ‘crushing on Christian’ is such an awesome term and it is exactly what she is doing.
And despite all the red flags going up in her head, smiling is all she wants to do when she thinks of Gabby.
Valery shakes her head and it isn’t cold or mean or anything like that.
She’s a good actress and no one gets it, not really, she is not a bitch at all - and Mandy wraps her up in a somewhat drunken hug.
“Stop drinking for the night. That’s my advice to you.”
“Okay, Mom.”
But they playfully shove away from each other and Mandy’s eyes are already seeking out someone else and it turns her stomach into knots - the good kind, which is the bad kind, too - when Gabby waves from the other side of the room, blatantly ignoring whatever one of the grips is shouting into her face.
And Mandy doesn’t need to save Gabby from dull topics or dull people. It’s not her job. Even though they are good friends. Even though they’ve lived together before. Even though they spend almost every night together, sober or otherwise.
It’s not her duty. It’s not even her place.
She does it anyway.
She walks right over and grabs Gabby’s hand and they weave past all the grins and the attempts at dancing and they leave just as things are gearing up.
Gabby smiles and Mandy almost hates how good seeing that smile makes her feel.
/
Gabrielle’s looks are so deliciously sly, sitting there and taking some direction from Angela.
And Mandy wasn’t sure they would ever work with each other again.
But she was more nervous that they inevitably would.
Matt calls about this and that and Mandy rolls her eyes, not to be harsh… not like that at all.
Because she does love him. That’s not the issue.
He just isn’t the only one she loves. And that fact is rushing back to her now, whether she wants it to or not.
Gabrielle takes the phone, says hello so nicely and then tells him to ‘leave us alone, we are trying to make out’. Everyone on set busts out and Matt takes it so well.
And for a split second, their eyes meet and something ancient is being said… then it is shut down fast, as if that world never even existed.
/
The couch is for movie-watching, not for sleeping - unless it is sleep that comes without preamble.
But if they are awake enough to make it to Mandy’s bed, then that is where they always end up.
Gabby’s feet are perpetually cold and Mandy always complains when they brush up against her bare legs and then they usually fall into some form of verbal sparring - all in jest, of course.
Tonight is no different.
The lights are out and someone just said something about sharp toenails and there is an inordinate amount of giggling this time around.
And there is a light push against an arm, which leads to a nudge-like response and suddenly it isn’t just words that they are using anymore.
And she wishes she were a little more drunk, not so aware of how soft Gabby’s hands are - because they’ve always felt delicate and smooth, but that’s when they are pretending to be other people… other girls in love with one another… and, fuck it all, Mandy is not in love with Gabby. It’s just a crush.
Right? Right.
“Gabby, don’t you dare tickle me or I’ll put you in a headlock.”
“Promises, promises…”
“I will, don’t tempt me--”
“Uh huh, suuuuure…”
Those tricky fingers are moving, though, and they slip up under her tank top and they skim over her skin so wonderfully - somewhere between painful and perfect - and she is biting her bottom lip, squeezing her eyes shut… trying not to crack, trying not to give in.
But give in to what exactly?
That question is lingering all over her body, brought to life by this touch that she so wants and so can’t have and she knows it’s not just laughter she is attempting to hold back because it is a moan that waits in her throat.
“Ready to say uncle?”
Gabby’s voice is close and she can feel the breath on her face and her own eyes open without her consent and those fingers slow down to a crawl and it is so far from funny now.
Maybe it was never that funny to begin with anyway.
And she wishes she were a little more drunk, then she could blame it all on that and not have to say the words and not have to feel more than she ever should and then Valery wouldn’t be right and that first day would just be a footnote instead of a whole chapter in Mandy’s mind.
But her head is lifting up, tilting to the side and drawing near and there is enough time to stop all of this from happening… but neither of them does that.
Tonight is different.
They don’t kiss like a camera is watching tonight.
They kiss like lovers tonight.
Strangely familiar, but oh so new, they kiss - the slow kind of clench only lasting for a few moments - and then they are on fire and those kisses are somewhat sloppy in their heat, hitting jaws and teeth and then tongues come out and she can’t keep that moan at bay anymore.
It doesn’t break the momentum, though.
It actually kicks everything else into motion and that hand is trailing upwards and Mandy locks her fingers into blonde hair and now those kisses are deeper, now those kisses are hotter.
And her hands cannot stay in one place anymore, leaving behind tresses and sliding over the back and raising up the shirt there and finding warm flesh and then going further down… permission granted with a gasp into her mouth as fingertips delve under the band of thin shorts.
She can answer in her own series of groans, though, because Gabby’s hand has just reached its destination and is surprisingly rough upon her breast and she has to fight the urge to come right then because it feel so fucking amazing - firm and real and sure - but it is nothing compared to the mouth that leaves her own and then clamps down on her nipple, sucking and pulling despite the clothing present.
And that does it, that cuts her down and renders her to ash, because now there really is no turning back, now there will never be a time where she won’t want this… again and again.
She rears up, out of need, and then doesn’t stop coming up - jerking Gabby to her body in one swift movement, legs around her waist, and she pulls at the shirt… and Gabby removes it… and they repeat this once more.
Now they are really touching and they are so close and their lips are no longer just kissing, they are crashing and careening and claiming. They are leaving bruises on necks and Gabby’s hips are moving and Mandy shudders because this is better than every dream she’s ever had - and she has had them, over and over, since that first damn day - and so she can’t wait anymore.
As teeth latch onto her shoulder and as she pants breathlessly, she thrusts her hand past the only barrier left and silken wetness greets her and Gabby pushes down hard, rocking and begging and demanding and Mandy intends to give the woman exactly what they both want.
One finger and Gabby says ‘please’.
Two fingers and Gabby’s hips jerk quickly.
Three fingers and Mandy is pumping into her with abandon and her own arousal is on overload and pulsing in time with each thrust and she is almost convinced that she will get off just by witnessing Gabby orgasm and that turns her on even more.
Arms around her neck and lips all over her and one hand on the small of Gabby’s back and one hand in motion, fingers curling and curling, and those fucking blue eyes - gorgeous and wide and pure - stare right into her as Gabby tightens and convulses and softly curses.
Mandy bites her lip so hard that it draws blood. Gabby languidly licks the wound, tongue drifting in and out of her mouth.
And they kiss like lovers do, like Mandy and Gabby - not Ashley and Spencer, not by a long shot.
Gabby pushes her down and stays straddling her and creates a masterpiece with her lips and hands all along Mandy’s body and when Gabby’s mouth is pressed so confidently against her extremely sensitive and wet center… she is lost, completely and totally lost to this woman.
From the first day, from the very first fucking day, and this is all she has wanted - the two of them, like this, always like this and crushes aren’t supposed to be this intense and love isn’t supposed to be here at all… but… but…
Gabby’s inside of her now and the tip of that tongue is on her clit and she is undulating wildly and fisting that blonde hair and she isn’t quiet about any of it - growls and whimpers and she even cried out ‘Gabrielle’, which could have made things too real… but it just made it better, made the movement more raw and more dedicated and when she came it was like she had finally found home.
/
They are having a drink with everyone and the two of them are like an old vaudeville team - telling stories and finishing each other’s sentences and cracking up the cast, cracking up the director.
Matt calls and asks if he can join and Mandy never says no, even though… she kind of wants to, at least this time around.
And she loves him. He is easy to love. That’s not the issue.
But she wishes he was the only one she loved. That would make things even easier.
Every once in a while, Angela gets this look on her face like she knows so much more than she should and it reminds Mandy of Valery - who she really needs to call up one day soon and they should have coffee or something and talk - but Mandy decides she can’t always hide.
And where better to indulge these not-so-hidden, yet hidden, feelings then around a group of lesbians?
But someone asks, as they always do, and Gabrielle is flashing that thousand-watt smile and that simple diamond ring makes the rounds and everyone is cooing and Mandy hates the way it makes her feel anything at all.
/
If you had posed the situation to her and asked how it would have played out, she might have said insanely uncomfortable. Especially since they are all so close on set and one look could possibly give them away and then there is the post-sex awkwardness - because it wasn’t meant to happen and Gabby isn’t talking about it and neither is Mandy.
They act as if it hasn’t happened. And that works for a week or so.
Until it just happens again and that means it isn’t a total fluke, that it isn’t a build-up of actress passion gone astray and it becomes clear that they are saying a whole hell of a lot… just not with phrases and stutters and declarations.
At least, that’s what Mandy tells herself when a hand steals her own and then they are in one of the trailers while everyone else is at the concession table and it smells vaguely musty in here - all the clothes and boxes and such - but Gabby’s skin smells like heaven on Earth and she is thoroughly addicted to that scent and her lips are already firmly attached to a bare shoulder, sucking and biting and soothing with the entire length of her tongue.
“Should we have put out a sign? If the trailer is a-rockin’…” Gabby giggles into her ear softly and then teeth are biting that earlobe and Mandy moans deep and she digs her nails into Gabby’s hips - trying to find purchase past denim and so she goes up under that short skirt, loving how blindingly warm the woman is to the touch and how it causes a pooling of desire to spring forth.
They are up against the wall now, neither of them able to fully stay standing, and she is trying harder than she has at anything to keep from grinding against Gabby’s thigh - not because she doesn’t want to, but those words traveling in her teased ear are still true…
No one needs to know what they are up to.
Not that anyone would treat them badly. How could they and keep running a show like this one?
But no one needs to know about this, about what they do to one another, about Gabby’s hand unzipping and cupping and pressing and how Mandy crushes their lips together so that her ecstasy has somewhere safe to blow up.
No one needs to know about that.
/
She has had four or five beers and that line is getting deceptively faint now.
Matt is being taunted, nicely, by all the girls and he is taking it on the chin like a pro and they are complimenting his outfit and he is preening just a tad.
He smiles over at her, a simple gesture, and she returns it and then he goes back to whatever conversation he is having with that gaggle of women.
“Even gay ones love him.”
“Yea, it’s the mascara he likes to wear. Fools them all.”
Gabrielle laughs that special laugh, the one that Mandy just cannot forget, and they smile at one another. Simply smiling and that line almost disappears, growing more and more distant… less of an obstacle and more of an eager memory.
Or maybe that is just her, just what she is feeling because of alcohol and too much thinking, because the lights in this room just keep catching on Gabrielle’s ring and Mandy can’t look at it.
Kind of like she sometimes can’t look at the ring on her own fourth finger and not be reminded of what she gave up, once upon a time, because she didn’t know how to give everything to someone - not like she could now, if she had half a chance…
Which she doesn’t. Not a chance at all.
“I gotta go. I’m getting too old for these late night things.”
“You? Old? C’mon… stick around for a while longer. Matt’s the honorary dyke tonight and I’ll be all alone if you go.”
“I don’t know…”
“Gabby…”
The woman beside her knows that tone and Mandy watches, transfixed, as the corner of a bottom lip is tenderly tugged on in thought and not so long ago that would have been an invitation and Mandy would take it and they would leave this party.
They would leave this party and go back to her apartment and they would strip each other and they would somehow turn fucking into making love… without ever saying a damn thing.
There is a flutter of lips against her cheek, a whisper of kiss, and Gabrielle is smiling again and Mandy blinks as if the trance is broken. Which it is. Which it has to be.
Because there are rings on fingers and too much time has passed and that line is now thick and black and highly noticeable.
“I’ve got to go.”
“Okay.”
“See you in a couple of weeks for post work, though, right?”
“Yea. Yea, in a couple of weeks.”
Gabrielle says good-bye to everyone and Matt comes over, wrapping up Mandy from behind, and she loves him… she really does love him. He is so easy to love.
That’s not the issue.
She just doesn’t love him as much as she loves the woman walking out the door.
/
It was one date and she isn’t really sure why she took him up on it and the whole night - in between his joking and his kissing - she couldn’t help but wonder what Gabby was up to.
And seeing the light on at two in the morning was all she needed to cause her fist to knock on the door.
Gabby stands there, hair up in a messy ponytail and the script in her hand and disheveled pajamas and bare feet and her apartment smells like chocolate - cookies to be exact - and Mandy wakes up even though she was feeling tired just minutes ago.
Just the sight of Gabby sometimes jerks Mandy back to the world like others use an alarm clock.
“So… how was it?”
And there is something there, an edge - the sliver of an unknown knife - in that blue gaze and it is making a play for passivity and Mandy doesn’t like it, but then… she is the one to put it there to begin with.
“C’mon Gabby, it was a date. You know, dinner and bullshit… you know, it’s Cohen.”
“Great. Good.”
And there is something there, symmetry that is terrifying and she wonders if the roles are somehow coming to life - triangles that shouldn’t be and yet they are - and Mandy doesn’t like it, but then… she is egging it on and it feels like the biggest kind of mistake to make… but much like the girl she is in celluloid, she can’t seem to help herself.
“Can I come in?”
“It’s late.”
“You’re up.”
“So?”
“Soooo… you know I can’t sleep well without you. Let’s go back to mine.”
“I, uh, don’t think so, not tonight.”
“Gabby…”
And there is that tone and she knows it works wonders with the woman before her and Gabby’s brow furrows in contemplation and it is an invitation and Mandy takes it.
She leans in and captures lips and they part like they always tend to do and there is nothing better than feeling the whole of Gabby against her body - she kicks the door shut and the script falls to the floor and Gabby is walking them backwards and to the bedroom.
Everything is slower this time, though. And Mandy doesn’t like it… which is a total lie… because she loves it all too well, she loves it all too much, she loves… she loves… she loves…
Gabby’s legs are around her hips and they are moving so steadily against one another and everything is hot and wet and better than anything else.
Those fine hands pull her mouth down and they kiss and they orgasm at the same time - bodies meeting up like twin waves, colliding and hissing and merging.
And they stay like that, intertwined and sweaty, the rest of the early morning and into the dawn.
Gabby’s fingertips stir her back to the land of the living and there is something there, in that graze of flesh on flesh - it sounds a lot like a question and maybe a wish or two… and Mandy doesn’t like it, but then… she is more like that teenage girl than she would ever say, vacillating between complete happiness and just a daydream… and the answers lie in her heart, but she refuses to give them.
Cohen asks her out again and she agrees.
And they talk. And they kiss some.
It’s easy to be with a guy like that.
But when she comes home, this time, the lights are not on.
And they never come back on, not for days and days and then it is months and months.
And she can’t get back what she let slip away and it shouldn’t hurt so much, because it was just a crush… right? It wasn’t anything like love.
Right? Right.
But she envies ‘Ashley’ now, because at least ‘Ashley’ has ‘Spencer’.
And Mandy can’t get Gabby to look at her once the shout of ‘cut’ has been heard.
/
Oh she loves him. That’s not the issue. He is just not the only one that she loves. He is just not the one she loves the most. He is just not the one.
He is just easy to love.
And love is actually quite hard to manage.
She should know.
But there is an ivory RSVP on the desk and she glares at it and time doesn’t stand still - it only feels like that when you fall in love and can’t shake loose the longing and ache to be in the presence of the one who owns your heart - and she will find a way to not make it to this wedding.
Kind of like Gabrielle couldn’t make it to hers.
Kind of like all the dinners they used to have, the four of them, where the guys talked about regular things and their respective girlfriends couldn’t stop watching each other - pick up the glass and take a sip, cut the meat and take a bite, push back the hair and scratch the arm, smile a little and tilt the head…
“Should I ask for a day off in advance?”
“Uh, no, I won’t be able to make it. Got that reading with that CBS show remember?”
“Oh yea, right. Cool. Want me to send our apologies to the bride and groom?”
“Sure. You do that. Thanks.”
And she throws the invitation away.
Kind of like she did not so long ago, in another life… and this one hurts just as much.
If not more. If not so much more.
///
::END::