Midnight

Elisa Adams

Dark Promises, Book One

Washed-up horror movie actress
Amara Daniels is looking for a new career. When she’s kidnapped by a crazed fan
who swears he’s a vampire, she thinks she’s hit rock bottom. What she doesn’t
count on is the wild attraction between them that quickly surpasses the boiling
point…and the fact that he might not be delusional after all.

Ellora’s Cave Publishing

www.ellorascave.com

Midnight

ISBN 9781843604037

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Midnight Copyright © 2003 Elisa Adams

Cover design by Syneca

Electronic book publication 2003

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Amara walked out of wardrobe, her thigh-high,
four-inch-heeled, artificial leather boots making a horrible rustling sound
with every step she took. She might as well have wrapped her legs in trash
bags. It would have had the same effect.

She tugged at the top of the black vinyl bustier, trying in
vain to contain her breasts. When were these people going to learn that there
was a huge difference between a B cup and a D cup?
Whoever designed this
costume ought to be shot
. They seemed to get skimpier and skimpier with
every film.

She’d thought it was bad enough when she’d had to stuff
herself into those leather pants for the first film. By the second, the pants
had been changed to a mini skirt, which was later changed to a micro-mini and a
halter top. It amazed her that, as the films gained popularity and the budget
skyrocketed, the material used in each costume got smaller and smaller. You’d
think they could at least afford something that would cover her ass.

“You doing okay, Amara?”

She turned, her hands on her hips, ready to take out her
frustrations. As it just so happened, the director, Robby Baker, appeared in
the hall. “No, Robby, I’m not. I can’t even move in this getup. I don’t
understand how you expect me to run around like this. I can barely walk without
some part of my body popping out.”

“Come on, Amara. For your age, you have a terrific body.”

Her age? She didn’t realize that thirty-three had suddenly
become over-the-hill.

“A lot of woman have to pay to get tits like yours. They’re
not naturally blessed like you, honey.”

The last time she considered herself “blessed” in the breast
department was in eighth grade. Then she learned how much
fun
it was to
walk around all day with two mounds the size of grapefruits hanging from her
chest.

“I’m not going to flash my breasts for the camera. If you
want that, you can find someone else.”

“Well, that’s kind of what we need to talk about.” He pulled
her into an empty room at the end of the hall, quietly shutting the door behind
them. “The new producers want to take the Midnight films in a different
direction.”

Shit
. That was never a good sign. Were they planning
to kill off her character? She certainly hoped not. It was Midnight who had
made the films so popular in the first place. Well, Midnight and her human
nemesis-slash-lover J.T., but without Midnight the movies wouldn’t have much of
a plotline. “Go on.”

“Okay, what they want is to give the movies more of an…adult
flavor.”

She snorted. “We’re not exactly making kiddie flicks here.
Isn’t an R rating good enough for them?”

“Well, actually, no.”

She stared at him for a minute, trying to figure out if he
was joking. He wasn’t. “Damn it Robby, I’m not going to get involved in a porn
movie!”

Robby sighed and paced the room. “Listen, Amara. The
Midnight franchise isn’t as popular as it was when we first started. With your
face and your tits, we could make a killing if we added a little more spice.
Derek agreed, the rest of the regular cast agreed. It looks like you’re the
only hold out.”

“What is this sudden obsession with my chest?” She was
looking for one good reason why she shouldn’t strangle him for
that
comment.
She clenched her teeth and her hands, willing herself to keep calm. “I’m not
going to have sex on camera, no matter how much money it will make.”

“Get over yourself, babe. There’s been a couple of hot sex
scenes in all five of the Midnight movies. Hell, you were only twenty-four when
the first one was filmed. What’s a little more skin, anyway? You’ll be
protected, if that’s what you’re worried about. Derek will wear a condom, if
that’s what you want. You won’t have to worry about catching any diseases.”

Did everyone think she had no morals? “There is a huge
difference between simulated sex and real penetration.” She shook her head and
yanked up her bustier one more time. “It’s not going to happen.”

“It’s just Derek, honey. You know, your fiancé? Please don’t
tell me you two have never had sex.”

“What Derek and I do in our bedroom is none of your
business, and it’s most certainly not going to be exploited for the sake of
making money.”

Robby ran a hand through his dark, greasy hair. “Funny, but
Derek didn’t voice a single objection.”

That stopped her cold. “He didn’t?”

“No. As a matter of fact, he seemed pretty excited about
doing it on camera with you.”

Derek was a dead man the second she got home. “I’m
not
doing it.”

“You don’t have much of a choice.”

“Is that some kind of a threat?” She crossed her arms over
her chest, but had to uncross them when the skimpy top puckered indecently.
Robby didn’t miss the eyeful of cleavage she’d just unwittingly treated him to.
His eyes widened and his smile grew, and she would have smacked him if he wasn’t
holding her fragile career in the palm of his oily little hand. Instead she
glared at him, and he had the decency to look humbled.

“Of course not, honey. I would never threaten you. But face
it, where would you be without these movies? Have you had any other offers
lately?”

No.

Playing Midnight Morris in that first movie had been the
best and worst thing for her career at the same time. Sure, the first movie had
branched out into four sequels and a line of merchandise that involved
everything from action figures to cereal to clothing, but it also killed her
hopes of ever being taken seriously in Hollywood. To the entire population of
casting directors, it seemed, she
was
the bubbly blond vampire and was
therefore unsuitable for any other role.

Still, she wasn’t going to compromise her principles by
getting horizontal with some beefcake on film, even if the beefcake in question
was the man she was supposed to marry in two weeks. It didn’t matter how much
money the film might gross. She’d learned that money wasn’t everything,
especially when her dignity was involved.

Sure, she’d spent a good portion of her adult life playing a
campy, comic book style vampire with more boobs than brains, but she had to draw
the line somewhere.

“I’m not doing this, Robby, and that’s final.”

“What can I say to make you change your mind? What do you
want, more money? A bigger house? A sports car?”

“How about none of the above?” She narrowed her eyes and
looked down at the little man. She wasn’t overly tall, but the four-inch heels
combined with his small stature gave her the advantage. He backed up, but held
his ground.

“Is that your final answer?”

She nodded, her lips pursed.

“Well, then I’m sorry. I’m going to have to let you go.”

“I don’t think so. I have a contract.” They weren’t going to
get away with this.

“By refusing to follow the director’s and the producer’s
orders, technically you’re now in breach of contract.”

“That’s bullshit! Nowhere in my contract does it say I have
to fuck my costar.” Right after she got out of this scrap of a costume, she was
going home to call her lawyer.

“But it doesn’t specifically say you don’t have to, either.”

The nerve of that man! To think, at one time in her career,
she might have considered him a friend. “You can’t do that.”

“No, I probably can’t.” He winked at her. “But I could tell
the producers about the little private party you had a couple of weeks ago in
the company limo.”

“You wouldn’t dare!”

Robby shook his head. “What would everyone think of their
golden girl then? Just you and three men in a limo with God only knows what
kind of drugs and alcohol.” His smile widened. “I’ll bet the tabloids would
have a field day with that one.”

She sucked in a breath, trying to find some way out of this
one. Unfortunately, there didn’t seem to be any. It wouldn’t matter that
nothing had happened in the limo. It was just her, Derek, and a couple of his
old frat buddies from college. She didn’t sleep with any of them at the time,
and the strongest substance in the vehicle at the time had been beer.

But it was her word against everyone else’s, and she’d been
known to throw a wild party or two in her day. She’d been threatened that if
she had any more, she’d lose her job.

What would she be without this role? Just an aging chick
with a bad dye job and a liberal arts degree from a community college back in
Vermont.

“What do you want me to do?”

“Just get naked for the camera, sweetheart, and Derek will
take care of the rest.”

She shook her head. There was no way she could go through
with this. As much as she enjoyed her job, there would be others. It was a
devastating blow, but she’d get over it. After a couple of months, the hubbub
would die down and she’d be able to start auditioning again. Surely someone out
there would want her for something.

“This is
so
not going to happen. I have to go home
and talk some sense into Derek.”

“Oh, I don’t think you’re going to change his mind.”

The hairs on the back of her neck prickled. She didn’t want
to hear what was next, but she had to ask anyway. “Why do you say that?”

Robby laughed. “He’s not as inhibited as you, I guess. Why
don’t you take a look at this while you’re home wallowing in your self-pity.”

He tossed her a VHS tape. “What’s this?”

“Just Derek’s latest project. Enjoy, honey. I know I sure
did.”

* * * * *

“Derek?” Amara walked through the door of the townhouse they
shared. She was greeted by silence.
Strange
. He should have been home by
now.

She shrugged and set her purse on the coffee table, glad to
be rid of the vinyl bustier. Her skin would probably itch for weeks. She poured
herself a glass of wine and popped the tape into the VCR, curious about what
Derek had been working on behind her back. As far as she knew, the only things
going on with his career were the Midnight movies and a couple of cell phone
commercials.

The title “More than Friends” flashed across the screen,
followed by Robby’s name as director. She blinked hard when she saw Derek’s
name next. Just what the hell had he been doing? He’d always thought
independent films were beneath him. Why was he suddenly starring in one, and
doing so without telling her?

She learned a lot more than she wanted to when the film
opened and a naked Derek strutted across the screen, obviously very aroused.
Oh, he was really in for it when he got home.

What surprised her more, although she should have been
expecting it after Robby’s comments, were the four naked women following him.
When one of them, a tall skinny redhead with obviously fake boobs, encircled
his cock in her hand Amara had to turn the movie off.

“That son of a bitch!”

If she hadn’t been so mad, she might have heard the noise
sooner. But she’d been too stunned by what she’d discovered about Derek’s
secret to notice. She sat on the couch, remote in her hand, for a good five
minutes before the squeaking bedsprings registered as something other than the
anger churning in her head.

She jumped off the couch and bolted up the stairs, taking
them two at a time. She threw open the bedroom door, expecting to find Derek
with the redhead from the movie. Her jaw dropped when she saw he was fucking
Steve, the caterer who lived next door.

“Holy shit!” She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. “What
the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Hey, baby.” He didn’t even have the decency to look
contrite. Instead he continued to thrust his cock, a cock that would
never
find its way inside her body again, into Steve’s ass.

Steve, on the other hand, looked totally mortified. His
entire body turned bright red and he closed his eyes, but Derek wouldn’t let
him go.

“Why don’t you get naked and join us, Amara? I’ve been
telling Steve all about your fabulous body.”

That was
so
not going to happen. “You’re never going
to get the chance to see me naked again, buddy.”

“Oh, come on, Amara. Have a little fun for once. It wouldn’t
hurt to spice up our sex life a little.”

“Is that why you’re with Steve, and why you made those
movies? To spice things up? Geez, Derek. If you were bored you should have just
said something.”

“Boring doesn’t even begin to describe you in bed, babe. I
need so much more than you can give me.” Derek’s eyes rolled back and he sighed
in sheer pleasure. “Steve is so much better than you are. Do you know that? He’ll
suck my dick whenever I want, and he doesn’t get sick at the thought of
swallowing.”

He was actually getting off on this. “You’re a scumbag,
Derek.”

“I just want to have fun. Come on, Amara. We could all get
off together.”

Poor Steve had gone beyond red. He was now a lovely shade of
purple. He squirmed to get away, but Derek’s huge hands kept him right where he
wanted him.

“Are you high again, Derek?”

That got his attention. He stopped pumping and pulled out of
Steve. The man scrambled to get his clothes and ran out of the room. Amara
heard the front door slam a few seconds later.

Derek’s face went ashen. “How can you even ask that? You
know I gave that stuff up months ago.”

And apparently he’d picked up some other bad habits. She
didn’t know which one she hated more—the coke or the indiscriminate sexual
encounters with anything moving “I think you should leave now. Pack your shit
and go.
Do not come back
!”

“We’ll get through this. We’ve been through worse, and we
always make it through okay.” He reached for her, but she ducked away.

Her stomach churned at the thought of his hands on her skin.
“How long have you been gay?”

“I’m not gay. I like women, too.”

“Oh, yes. That’s right. I watched enough of that tape to
know women get you hard, too. How many times have you cheated on me?”