Taylor Tuesday – Week 2

Handsome guy lying on the field. Young man enjoying nature

 

Who’s ready for the second chapter of Dirty Mess? If you missed any chapters, check out the archive here.

Please note that this story is copyrighted and no part of Dirty Mess may be copied without my permission. Thank you again to Susan for her amazing betaing skills. xx.

Here’s Chapter Two!


Dirty Mess

Chapter Two

“Are you Taylor Burnham?”

Taylor’s head jerked up to stare at the man who came through the door and into the tiny waiting area. The voice was familiar enough that Taylor knew this had to have been Tate, but he wasn’t anything like he imagined. When he’d first heard Tate’s deep voice, he imagined a tall, muscular man with a hard physique and handsome face. Oh, Tate was striking, just not in the way Taylor expected. He was short, shorter than Taylor’s 5’7, and slim, with a swimmer’s build. He had long ginger hair tied in a man bun, and bright, innocent-looking cobalt eyes.  Tate didn’t have the sharp cheekbones or strong jaw like Isaac, but a soft, rounded baby face. The only thing that made him seem older than a teenager was the graze of hair along his jawline and chin.

Tate cocked his head. “Are you not Taylor Burnham?”

Taylor stood from his chair abruptly and nodded his head. “Yes. I mean, yes, I’m Taylor.”

Amusement flashed across Tate’s face and he nodded toward the door he just exited. “Come on then.”

Taylor followed Tate through the door, down a hallway, and finally, into a small office.

“Take a seat.” Tate gestured to the seat in front of the desk, and Taylor took it as the other man shut the door behind them. “So, Taylor, you said Isaac suggested us?”

Taylor cleared his throat. It felt dry and dusty and his words caught in his throat as he stared at Tate. He’d practiced what he was going to say before he came, but words had fled him, leaving him speechless and nervous.

“Did you need a drink?” Tate didn’t wait for an answer. He grabbed a plastic cup and filled it with water from a cooler against the wall. He handed it to Taylor, and Taylor swallowed the water in one large gulp. He ignored the fact that Tate was watching him in amusement.

“Sorry,” Taylor said, finally able to push the words through his now damp mouth.

“It’s fine to be nervous, Taylor.” Tate didn’t laugh or smirk, instead he stared at Taylor with soft eyes as he sat in the chair on the opposite side of the desk. “Are you okay? You’re not going to faint on me, are you?”

Taylor’s cheeks flushed. “I… no. Sorry.”

Tate smiled. “Nothing to be sorry for. Like I said, it’s fine to be nervous.”

“I bet the guys you get in here are confident. Like Isaac.” He glanced around the small office. It was tidy, with little furniture except the desk, chairs, water cooler, and one bookshelf with a couple of books. The walls were painted in soft browns and the lights were dimmed at halfway, which soothed Taylor. There were no harsh camera lights on him, no judging eyes on him as he spoke.

“Actually, no.” Tate crossed his legs and fell back against his chair. The smile stayed on his lips and there was no judgement in his gaze. “A lot of men come in here just as nervous as you are. That’s normal.”

“I don’t usually do this. I mean, I know you guys don’t do porn but—” Taylor groaned. He needed to shut up.

Tate chuckled. “I understand what you mean, but as you said, Dirty Mess isn’t porn. There is no sex and no visible dicks.”

“I’m not good with cameras,” Taylor admitted. He wondered if that just ruined his chance.

Tate nodded. “Again, that’s normal, especially considering what you’ll be doing in front of the camera. But we’ll help you through that, Taylor. The more videos you do, the more confident you’ll get.”

Taylor doubted that, but he didn’t say anything. He pointed the plastic cup at the cooler and Tate nodded, so Taylor filled it up again and took another deep swallow. The cool liquid soothed his tight throat.

“Let’s ignore the fact you’ll be in front of a camera for a moment, Taylor. Tell me about yourself.” Tate watched him carefully, his easygoing observation making Taylor feel a little more comfortable.

“What do you want to know?” He filled the cup up one more time before he took his seat again.

“Anything that you think is important.” Tate linked his fingers against his stomach, his stare following Taylor.

“There’s nothing interesting about me.”

“Now that’s a lie. If you’re Isaac’s roommate, you’re at college, right?”

Taylor stared at the cup in his hand, watching the water swaying in the white plastic. His hands cupped it, and he forced himself not to squeeze it too hard. “I am.”

“What do you study?”

“Theater studies.”

Tate’s chair whined, and Taylor glanced up to see him lean forward. “Really? So, you’re an actor?”

“On stage, sure.” He took a deep breath and reminded himself there weren’t any cameras in this room. Not yet, anyway.

“And you want to work on stage as a Broadway actor?” His voice was soothing and curious.

“Yeah. I’ve always wanted to be an actor, since I was a kid. My mom was a stage actress.” He pursed his lips. He told himself before he came that he wasn’t going to mention anything about his personal life. Isaac said he could be someone else, and that’s what he wanted. He didn’t want to be Taylor here.

“Really? Is she still acting?”

Taylor cleared his throat. “I don’t mean to be rude, but Isaac said I could be someone else? Like make up a persona? I don’t have to share anything too personal, right?”

Tate laughed softly and nodded. “I’m sorry, I like to get to know my actors a little better. It’ll help with the nerves if we talk about you.”

“I’d rather not talk about my life.” Taylor licked his lips and sipped some water.

A knock on the door made him jerk in surprise, and he glanced at it when Tate gave permission for the person on the other side to enter. It opened, and the most breathtaking man Taylor had ever seen entered.

This was the type of man he imagined working here. Tall, over six feet at least, and muscular, he was the epitome of what Taylor imagined a porn actor to look like. He wore a gray tank top, leaving his strong arms and a large V-shaped portion of his chest bare for Taylor’s eyes to feast on.

Black ink graced the tanned skin of his right arm with lines of intricate patterns that Taylor wanted to trace with his tongue. Another tattoo, a circle of more intricate designs, painted his left pec, but Taylor didn’t get a good look at this one because the material of his shirt hid most of the ink.

He had short dark hair, deep tan eyes that could melt the Arctic, and a strong jaw grazed with the dark shadow of a beard. He was masculine and smelled delicious—a mixture of a peppermint-spice scent and natural manly sweat that made Taylor want to eat this god up. Taylor’s mouth watered and the dryness in his throat disappeared.

“Ah, Rip, I’m glad you’re here.” Tate stood from his chair and made his way around the desk. He rested his palm on the gorgeous man’s shoulder and waved at Taylor. “This is Taylor Burnham. He wants to join us.”

The god, or Rip as Tate called him, stared at Taylor with his deep brown eyes and smiled. It transformed his face from ruggedly handsome to sweetly gorgeous. They were probably the same thing to someone else, but they weren’t to Taylor. A smile could make a man more handsome as far as he was concerned.

Rip held out his hand toward him. “Hi, Taylor.”

Taylor tried to smile, but he wasn’t sure if it showed on his face or not. For all he knew, it could have come out looking like a twisted grimace. “Hi.” He celebrated the fact that he could speak in front of this god.

By the way Tate was smiling, Taylor wondered if he was being too obvious.

“Ripley here,” Tate patted Rip’s shoulder, “is a veteran of Dirty Mess. He was one of our first models, and I brought him here because I thought he could help you. Be your companion on your first video.”

“Really?” Taylor wanted that. He wanted that very badly, but he tried to remind himself to play it cool. He’d been around hot men before, but none that had his body reacting like it was to Rip. His skin felt like it was on fire, a mere touch would have him bursting into flames, and his fingers twitched at his side. He’d be kissing this man, right? The thought alone had blood rushing south. Fuck.

Rip raised his chin, his eyes scanning Taylor from the top of his head to his toes in a slow, measuring gesture. It was all Taylor could do not to puff out his chest like some caveman, hoping Rip liked what he saw.

Heat rushed to Taylor’s cheeks and he cursed his ability to blush so quickly. “How long have you worked here, Rip?”

Rip exhaled loudly through his nose and his tongue swiped over his bottom lip. Taylor’s eyes followed the movement. “Three years.”

“You must have made out with a lot of guys.” As soon as he said it, Taylor groaned and dropped his head in his hands. Stupid.

Through his fingers, Taylor saw Tate and Rip glance at each other and then laugh.

“You could say that.” Rip shrugged. “Part of the job.”

Taylor dropped his hands. His face was so hot, he suspected he probably looked like an overripe tomato. He was glad at that moment that he didn’t inherit his mother’s pale skin like he had her sandy-blond hair.

“Taylor is very nervous,” Tate explained with a soft smile toward Taylor.

“That’s normal.” Rip smirked and took two steps forward so he stood close to Taylor, very close.

His chest was a breath width away from Taylor’s and their faces were just as close. Taylor blinked at the sudden movement, but didn’t back away. He stared into Rip’s deep gaze, his breath caught in his chest. He wondered if this was a test that he had to pass to be employed, and if it was, he couldn’t fail it. So, he stayed still, staring in Rip’s gorgeous eyes.

Rip’s warm palm cupped his cheek and Taylor inhaled sharply. His hand wasn’t rough, but it wasn’t smooth either. It felt good against his already heated skin.

“You are gorgeous,” Rip whispered, but Taylor didn’t know if it was for Taylor or Tate’s benefit. Maybe it was for his own.

His hand travelled down Taylor’s neck until his fingers entangled in the chain sitting against Taylor’s collarbone. The pad of his finger traced the chain until it reached the simple plain wedding band lying in the middle of it.

“What’s this?”

Taylor was so focused on Rip’s touch, on staring into his eyes, that he startled when Rip asked the question. He reached up and his fingers met Rip’s, both now touching the ring hanging off the necklace.

“It was my mother’s.” The truthful answer slipped out so easily, that it surprised him.

“It’s important to you,” Rip observed. He released the ring, but entangled his fingers around Taylor’s instead.

“Yes, it is.” Taylor glanced down at the chain and pursed his lips. “I’d rather not talk about it.”

Rip nodded and raised Taylor’s fingers closer to his face. The pad of his thumb ran down the length of Taylor’s forefinger and over the palm of his hand.

A throat cleared behind them and they both jerked at the sudden sound. Taylor had forgotten Tate was there, and apparently, so had Rip.

Rip sent Tate a smirk as he stepped away from Taylor. “I think he will be fine.”

Tate cocked his head and smiled. “I think he will be as well.”

Rip held out his hand to Taylor, and Taylor shook it. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“You too,” Taylor whispered. He couldn’t speak any louder, and it felt lost over the sound of the blood pounding in his ears.

Rip stepped backward and spun on his heel. With a nod to Tate, he left the room.

As soon as he disappeared, Taylor felt like he could breathe again. His chest rose and fell like it’d been without air for hours, and he fell into his chair.

“Another drink of water?” Tate’s quiet voice surprised him, but he shook his head.

“No, thanks.”

Tate leaned against the desk in front of Taylor. “Are you okay?”

“I….” Taylor ran his palms over his hot cheeks. “Did I make a fool of myself?”

Tate chuckled. “No, you didn’t. Ripley is very gorgeous.”

He dropped his face into his hands. “Fuck. I was too obvious, wasn’t I?”

The other man’s laughter deepened. “You weren’t the only one affected.”

Taylor frowned into his hands, but didn’t move them away from his face. Was Tate saying that Rip was attracted to him too? No, that wasn’t possible. Rip was gorgeous, and Taylor was… ordinary. He didn’t know why he was thinking about this. He was there to make money, that’s all.

“Come on, Taylor. Let me show you around the set.”

The sound of the door opening made Taylor drop his hands and rise from his seat. He followed Tate out of the office and further down the hallway. They walked into what seemed like a big movie set, with cameras set up around a stage. The current set involved a big four-poster bed that sat in the middle of it. They weren’t filming, which Taylor was thankful for, but it appeared like they were setting up for a scene.

Two shirtless men stood at the side of the bed, having a normal conversation about something that had them laughing. Taylor didn’t know what to expect, but he’d always wondered how models acted around each other when they weren’t filming. Seeing these two guys now, acting like friends, reminded him that models were just normal people.

Crew flittered around the men, with some playing with the furniture on the stage and others setting up the cameras. One female crew member walked up to one of the actors and fixed his underwear waistband, so it wasn’t crinkled against his hips. It felt surreal to Taylor.

Tate led him toward the two men, and Taylor steeled himself by taking a deep breath.

“Gentlemen,” Tate greeted.

The two men turned their attention on Tate and grinned. One of them looked familiar to Taylor, and it took him a moment to realize it was one of his classmates. Damon? That was his name.

“Hey, dude.” Damon slapped Tate on the shoulder and raised an eyebrow at Taylor. “Taylor Burnham?”

Taylor tried to smile, he really did, but he hated that someone else knew who he was. “Damon Miska. Hi.”

Damon’s arms crossed over his chest as he surveyed Taylor carefully. “Shit. You’re a messy boy too?”

Taylor flushed. Fuck. He was trying not to blush, especially not around these guys.

“Aw, look, he’s blushing.” The other guy was taller than Damon, but not by much. He reminded Taylor a bit of Isaac, except he had olive skin instead of Isaac’s tanned.

Damon punched the second guy on the arm. “Dude, come on, leave him alone.” He glanced at Taylor and pointed to the other model. “Taylor, this is Rum.”

Taylor held out his hand and gave Rum’s a firm shake. “How are you doing?”

“Good, man.” Rum winked at him. “Welcome to the messy boys.”

He cleared his throat and nodded, unsure what else to say. He technically hadn’t been hired yet, had he?

“I was just telling Taylor that it’s fine to be nervous, that everyone was nervous to begin with,” Tate said.

Rum snorted. “I wasn’t nervous. I had nerves of steel.”

Tate sent a smirk toward Taylor. “He nearly pissed himself in his first shoot.”

Rum held out his arms, his jaw dropped. “I did not, man.”

“You did,” Tate responded. He pointed at Rum. “Don’t be a douche.”

Taylor laughed. Nervous or not, he had to admit that he liked Tate. He was easygoing and the antics between these guys put him at ease. It once again reminded him that they were just ordinary people. Even if seeing Damon did throw a tool in the works, he felt calmer, like maybe he could do this and make some money.

“Who’s going to lead you in your first video, Taylor?” Damon asked.

“Rip.” Taylor licked his lips at the thought of the gorgeous man.

Damon hummed. “He’s a good choice. He’s experienced.”

“Experienced? He’s beyond experienced, man.” Rum shook his head. “I’m pretty sure he’s filmed with every one of us.”

Taylor grimaced. It was the reminder he needed that Rip was only doing his job. There was no way in hell he’d be interested in Taylor. He wasn’t ugly, but not as gorgeous as Rip either. He thought of himself as average enough to get a semihot boyfriend, but not hot enough to get the likes of Rip. He didn’t even know why he was thinking about it. He didn’t know Rip from the next stranger.

“Everyone set?” A booming voice broke through Taylor’s thoughts and he glanced over to a man behind one of the cameras.

“That’s Georgey. He’s one of our directors,” Tate explained.

“Directors?”

“This place makes enough to hire more than one.” Damon answered Taylor’s unfinished question. He nodded toward the director. “Georgey’s one of the best. You’ll learn a lot from him. Are you sticking around to watch our scene?”

“Yes, he is.” Tate patted Taylor’s shoulders. “You’ll need to learn how it works.”

Taylor let Tate lead him over to the side, where he introduced him to a few other people, like the makeup artist, hair stylist, and camera crew. He briefly met Georgey too, but the man was too busy focusing on the scene for them to get more than a few words out of him. Once the scene had started, Tate had him settled on a chair behind the cameras.

Taylor listened and watched carefully. Georgey would stop the action every so often and give Damon and Rum some instructions, and they followed them. Sometimes, one or the other would slip into character and take the directions a step further, and Georgey would either like it or hate it and he’d let them know.

Taylor always imagined the scene was one big take, but it was small increments of takes that they’d no doubt cut together in the end. Damon was talented and eyed the camera, and Rum, with hunger. It felt like there was real passion there, even though it was clear once the camera stopped rolling that they were nothing but friends.

Damon and Rum played with strawberries in this scene, and while Taylor would never have thought them as erotic, he had his mind swayed just by watching the two actors. They were talented.

It took four hours for a twenty-minute scene to be filmed and Taylor watched with rapture the entire time. He couldn’t look away. By the time it was done, the crew and cast looked exhausted but content, and Taylor could see why it was considered art. It was all about the camera angles and getting the right emotional feel to it. Watching a scene like this made him less nervous, and maybe even a little excited.

“What did you think of that?” Tate asked as he stretched his back. Taylor grimaced when he heard it pop.

“It was amazing. You’re all very talented.” Taylor slipped out of his chair and gazed around the studio, where crew members were now packing up. Rum seemed to have left, but Damon made his way over to them.

“What are your thoughts, Taylor?”

Taylor nodded. “It was amazing.”

“I got a hard-on a couple of times there.” Damon laughed, making a point by rearranging his cock in his underwear. He still hadn’t gotten dressed from his scene, and he had strawberry juice staining his firm abs. It glimmered against the harsh lights of the set.

Tate rolled his eyes.

“There’s nothing to be ashamed about, though,” Damon continued, as though he needed to reassure Taylor. “Rum got hard too. It happens. These scenes are sexy as hell.”

Taylor laughed. “I’d hope they’re sexy as hell, because I’m sure guys will be getting off to them.”

“Girls too.” Damon waggled his eyebrows. “Girls love this stuff.”

He grimaced. “If I’m going to do this, I don’t want to think about girls getting off to me.”

Damon snorted. “Me on the other hand? I don’t mind it.”

Taylor’s eyebrows rose. “You’re bisexual too?”

He shrugged. “I don’t put labels on it. But I guess, if you want to, I’m either bisexual or pansexual. Why are you so surprised?”

Taylor shook his head. “I just thought you were straight. I mean, when we were in class, I thought you were straight.” He grimaced. “I don’t have a good gaydar.”

Damon laughed. “I’m pretty sure no one has a working gaydar these days, Taylor. Sexuality is more fluid, accepted. It’s hard to judge what someone is. Anyway, I have to head out of here, because speaking about sexuality, I have a date with two hot dudes.”

“Together?” Tate cocked his head. “You’re one lucky man.”

Damon winked. “You know it, Tate. Hey, I said I’d take you on a date if you’d just stop crushing on Hayden.”

The tips of Tate’s ears flushed a bright red and his eyes narrowed. “Fuck off, Damon.”

Damon sniggered and patted Tate on the shoulder. “See you around, boys.” He saluted them and headed toward what Taylor assumed was the dressing rooms.

When Tate turned to Taylor, his ears were still red, but the rest of his face was still the same light shade it always was. It made Taylor envious. He wished he could blush like that, rather than having his very ruddy cheeks.

“What do you say, Taylor? Would you like to be a part of our team?”

Taylor nibbled on his bottom lip. He knew he had a choice, but he needed the money, and the few guys he’d met here seemed nice. They made him feel comfortable, like they weren’t filming erotic videos for men and women to get off on. Watching Rum and Damon in person didn’t make him feel dirty like he thought it would.

“Yeah.” He cleared his throat to say it louder. “Yes, I would like to be.”

Tate grinned and clapped his hands together. “Brilliant. We have some forms for you to fill out and sign, and we’ll discuss payment, but I think that should wait until tomorrow.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s getting late and I’m sure you have class. When will you be available?”

Taylor pulled out his phone and checked his class schedule. It was a new semester, which meant a new timetable he had to get used to. “I have time after one in the afternoon?”

“Hm, I have a meeting at two. So how about we make it three?”

Taylor nodded. “Sounds good.”

Tate patted him on the shoulder. “Good. We’re glad to have you on our team. Come on, I’ll lead you out.”


Disclaimer: No part of this blog story may be copied or used in any way without my permission. This work is copyrighted to Meg Bawden. Photos are purchased from DepositPhotos. They may not be saved from this blog and used elsewhere, as it is illegal. Cover created by Cover Couture. Thank you.

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