away from my spine and major blood vessels."
Before she grabbed the Dremel and its rotary blade from her kit, she turned the torque so that one of its three seams was a few inches to the side of his spine. Then she grabbed some scrap leather from one of the bins, doubled it as protective padding then placed it between the piece of jewelry and his skin.
She fished out her safety glasses and put them on. With the Dremel in hand, she slowly touched the fast rotating blade against the seam she had selected. The leather padding was there more to protect Declan against any slivers of metal or the heat generated by the tool because the blade only had to go through a grooved inner rod.
After a few seconds, she stopped and checked how close she was to the center, knowing that she only needed to cut a centimeter or so beyond the mid-point to sever the inner rod holding the pieces together. That left her several centimeters as a safe zone before she would encounter the leather padding.
"You're killing me," Declan growled as she continued to inspect the cut she had already made.
Her shoulders bounced in a laugh she tried to suppress. There probably weren't many girls her size who would ever be able to claim that she had made a man as famous or as universally desired as Declan Bain sweat.
"Keep your kilt on," she growled back, a smile he couldn't see plastered across her face.
This moment, she thought, with her body leveraged against his, that growl in his voice and a matching one in hers, too little clothing on him and the scent of his body, would all be incorporated into her mental wank material for the next few months.
Two seconds later, the blade sliced through the last bit of resistance and she immediately took her finger off the button powering the tool.
"Help me make sure the other one doesn't go on as tightly," he said, standing swiftly and grabbing the gold colored version of the prop.
Melanie put the Dremel down and assisted him. It felt strange being that close to him when no one was around. Usually there were at least a couple of people loitering and more breezing by when she helped an actor or actress with their wardrobe. Scents weren't isolated during production. On a regular filming day, he could smell cologne and cosmetics, any catering set-ups nearby, cigarette smoke, production smoke and a thousand others odors.
Right then, all she could smell was Declan, the sweat of his worry mixed with the almond oil they had used for the battle dress promotional shots and a juicy citrus that was probably from whatever products he had used when he had showered that morning.
As she put the torque on Declan's neck, he reached for her phone.
"What the hell are you doing?" She snatched the phone to her chest before he could claim it.
"Checking the time."
She huffed, but was just as eager to know the answer. Pressing the power button, Melanie groaned before she responded.
"Three forty."
Declan jumped to his feet. Part of the front panel of the skirt caught, undoing half of one of the two duct tape hems she had fashioned. Cursing, he lifted part of the panel and removed the rest of that line of duct tape. Letting it fall, he looked in the mirror, shook his head and pulled off the other strip, completely undoing her efforts.
"Fuck it, he's getting fifteen minutes and then I have to go," Declan growled, stalking out of the room and down the hall on bare feet.
Melanie stood as still as a statute, her mind processing what her eyes had just taken in. Shaking her head, she released a disconcerted grunt.
What had been seen couldn't be unseen.
Not when it looked that good.
The man was definitely a "shower." From some of the more salacious tabloids, he reportedly was a grower as well. She couldn't begin to imagine how big it got when he was hard if that was true.
"Snap out of it, Melanie," she admonished and reached for her phone.
Swiping through to her contacts, she pressed her roommate's number. When the call didn't connect,
Dani Evans, Okay Creations