She doesn’t turn from the window, the noise of another log being put in place to burn lost along with the rain on the roof. He looks up, watching he... from behind, admiring the curves he’s come to know so well, the soft hair falling down her shoulders. With a soft contented sigh he stands, wipes his hands on the towel still wrapped around his waist, and strolls up behind her. She first feels the hands on her shoulders and neck, softly massaging as they draw her deeper into her thoughts for a. ‘Sit down,’ he said, indicating a black, leather sofa in front of a wet bar built into the wall. He dropped the photo and resume on the huge wooden desk, plopped into a leather chair and leaned back. ‘You wanna do a cold read or you gonna do a monologue?’ Mike shrugged. ‘Whatever you want.’ The agent looked him carefully. ‘I just might take you up on that. Why don’t you do a cold read, then?’ He handed the young man a well-thumbed script. ‘This is the picture. Your agent tell you about it?’. More

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