I promise I'm working on The Stranger. :) The juices just aren't flowing as smoothly as I'd like them to. In the meantime, my muse for this story is running rampant in my head, so here I present you, Chapter 3 of Lights, Camera, Action!

"You like the kid, don't you?"

I cock an eyebrow but keep my eyes glued to the screen on my shiny smart phone. A few more coins and I'd beat my high score.

Ayasegawa sighs dramatically as he fiddles with my hair again. I swear he has spent an hour touching the same spot.

"He's cute, I'll give you that," he continues. "But go easy on him, will you? This is his, what, first day?"

The skinny blonde standing on my other side nods. Another intern, I see.

"So what," I snort. Yeah, so what? I know he has the hots for me. Doesn't matter how much he tries to pretend otherwise, he wants me.

"Tsk," Ayasegawa clicks his tongue. "You're such an insufferable asshole sometimes, Jaegerjaques."

I let out a bark of laughter. Don't I know it! But isn't that the entire point? My fans won't have me any other way.

Another agonizing ten minutes later, Ayasegawa finally announces that I'm fit for the camera. Seriously, I think I spend more time getting my makeup done than doing actual acting - which, to me, just seems like a waste of time. But what can I do? They keep telling me that high definition screens can be really unforgiving.

Not that it really makes any difference when it comes to me, you know?

Just saying.

Anyways, now that I'm ready, I strut down the steps of my trailer and make my way to the set. I smile at my own reflection as I walk past a mirror that has been set aside for the extras. My hair's a perfect mess, every strand arranged with the utmost care to look like I've just taken down ten men on my own - with bare hands, mind you.

I see the supporting actor already waiting for me, his flame-like red hair tied up in a high ponytail, making him look like a fucking pineapple. See, this is what happens when you don't have Ayasegawa as your makeup artist. The scene's simple: we're going to have a chat at an abandoned warehouse, thinking that we're well hidden, and then pineapple is going to get shot in the head mid-sentence.

"Abarai Renji, nice ta meet ya," the redhead grins at me when I pull up in front of him.

We exchange a brief, manly handshake. Now that I see him up close, I actually recognize him. A blooming newcomer, popular with young ladies who have a thing for his notorious tattoos, so I've heard.

I crouch down next to a steel beam, where I'm supposed to be hiding while I wait for Abarai to arrive for our secret meeting. Urahara's boisterous Assistant Director, Kenpachi Zaraki, hollers for final checks, the cameramen adjusts the angles of their lights and equipment, and then Kenpachi yells in his deep, gravelly voice.

"And...action!"

Everything fades away.

All I see and smell and hear is the warehouse: the musty smell of the dust-covered concrete floor beneath my feet, the muted sound of birds chippering outside the lone window high up near the ceiling, the stifling heat in the sun-baked space...

A soft crunch of gravel comes from the entrance. I peek around the beam, keeping myself hidden as I check if it's my contact. With a soft crack, a small pebble hits the ground right next to me and bounces off into the shadows.

"Jensen."

The hushed voice confirms the arrival of the only man who can help me get out of this mess.

"Goddamnit Parker, am I'm glad to see you," I whisper in relief.

I've practiced this scene countless of times; in my trailer, my shower, my head. I accept nothing but perfection from myself, and it shows in the box office results and the growing number of my fanbase. But I suppose not everybody works this way, because Abarai messes up his line seven bloody times.

Seven!

And he's not even the one who has a last-minute dialogue change!

My frustration mounts as we run through take after disastrous take until finally, I hear a weary "Cut! Check the gate!" from Urahara himself. There's a flurry of action from the camera crew before someone replies with the long-awaited "Clear gate!".

I let out a long suffering sigh and look pointedly at Abarai, who at least has the decency to turn a few shades of scarlet under my scrutiny.

"Sorry," he mumbles, sitting up and scratching the back of his neck. "I got kinda distracted."

I snort. No shit. "By what?" I ask, just out of curiosity.

Abarai doesn't reply, but his eyes dart quickly to the crew scattered around the front of the set. Kenpachi and Urahara have their noses buried in their clipboards and the camera people are busy moving their equipments. Then a mop of orange catches my eye.

Oh, don't tell me...

Before I have the chance to confirm my suspicion, Abarai is on his feet and heading towards Kurosaki; hips swaggering, back straight with confidence. I watch, seething inside, as the redhead starts a conversation with a surprised-looking Kurosaki.

My Kurosaki.

Grtting my teeth, I take off after him and manage to catch the tail end of his self introduction. Kurosaki gives me a dirty look as I pull up next to them.

"Kurosaki, my trailer, now," I say authoritatively, not giving Abarai the chance to finish his sentence.

Kurosaki narrows his eyes. "What for?" he actually has the balls to question me.

"Do you want your job or not?" I shoot back, crossing my arms over my chest.

The kid's eyes widen immediately as if it just occurred to him that I could have a say in his employment. I smirk when Abarai looks at me in bewilderment before backing off with both hands raised. I bite back a snarl when Kurosaki gives Abarai an apologetic smile before running after me.

As soon as we enter my trailer, I shrug off my jacket and fling it carelessly over the back of my chair. Then I slowly begin to unbutton my shirt. I decide to let the kid stew a bit, keep him guessing what I'm up to. I catch his reflection in the mirror - he looks about ready to explode.

"So? Why am I here?" Kurosaki demands just as I start on my second button.

I turn to him and let a grin creep onto my face. "What's your job title?" I ask.

"Huh?"

"Your job title," I repeat. "What are you interning as?"

Kurosaki blinks. "Set production assistant," he replies, sounding confused; probably wondering why the hell I would want to know.

"What's your job description?" I ignore his questioning gaze.

"Uhh, job description?" he echoes uncertainly. "Umm, assist the Assistant Director, mostly. Provide support to the cast and crew members...umm, locking up the set..."

My grin widens. "I like that one - supporting the cast," I say.

Kurosaki's mouth opens into a comical "O" before it's pursed into a thin line. I think he has a good idea where this is leading to now.

"Well, I need your...support right now." I let my voice dip an octave lower as my smile grows lecherous. I walk towards him, totally invading his personal space, and lean into him so that my mouth is right next to his ear. I can almost smell his nervousness.

"Take my clothes off," I whisper.

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me," I sputter in horror as Jaegerjaques' breath tickles my earlobe.

I just knew it. I knew nothing good is going to come out of this, but this is just far beyond my wildest dream. No, scratch that - nightmare would be a more accurate word.

Jaegerjaques pulls away and raises an eyebrow as though I'm the one who just made a ridiculous request.

"What, don't tell me you're afraid, Kurosaki," his ice-blue eyes twinkle as he taunts me.

Fury bubbles up in my chest and threatens to spew out from my throat. "No I'm not!" I snap.

His smile widens, then he holds out his arms like a king waiting to be disrobed. Clenching my jaw, I step forward and reach for his shirt button.

I'm just helping a co-worker with his costume, that's all, I tell myself as my fingers tremble around that goddamn button. I swear it has wax or something on it, it keeps slipping out of my grasp, forcing me fumble over and over again. My fingers and knuckles graze the muscular chest behind it, separated from me only by a thin layer of fabric. Suddenly aware of Jaegerjaques' body heat and his delicious, masculine scent, I feel myself blush.

As though he can read my mind, Jaegerjaques chuckles.

I bite my lower lip in determination, and after two more attempts, I finally get that button out of the way, only to find out that I have three more to go. I groan inwardly and try my best of avert my eyes from the smooth, tan skin that's gradually getting exposed. Jaegerjaques keeps his chest hairless - which, I guess, is a good idea since a large patch of blue there would be quite unappealing in my humble opinion - but that means I'm faced with nothing but his bare skin, which seems to radiate an abnormally high amount of heat that makes my cheeks feel even hotter.

Finally, all his buttons are undone, and I step behind him to peel the shirt off of him. I can't help but stare at his well-toned back, the muscles flexing gracefully under his taut skin as he rolls his shoulders. My god, I don't know if I would be able to have this kind of body even if I work out twenty four hours a day, seven days a week. He's practically glowing, his skin glistening with tiny little droplets of sweat.

Then, as I watch dumbly, a few of those droplets collect between his shoulder blades and slide down along his spine, following the dip in the middle of his back until it pauses at the bottom for a split second before disappearing into his waistband.

The sight of his pants shakes me from my trance-like haze and I realize that he's waiting for me to remove the next article of clothing - which is, unfortunately, that very pair of pants. Frowning, I circle back to his front and set to work, pointedly avoiding his gaze. Even so, I know he's leering at me, the fucking pervert.

I try my best not to touch him, but there's just no helping it. My fingers accidentally brush against his abs - his flat, washboard abs, goddamnit - as I pop the button at the top of his pants. Then I scowl at the zipper.

"Staring at it ain't gonna unzip it any faster, honey."

I snap my head up and barely manage to suppress my urge to strangle the bastard. If it wasn't for this internship, Jaegerjaques would be so dead.

Feeling pissed beyond words, I grab the zipper and yank it down with all my strength. A shudder breaks out all over my body when my fingers ghost over the unmistakable bump of a growing erection.

Shit!

I should be disgusted, but for reasons I can't even fathom myself, a tremor of excitement seizes my chest.

Double shit.

Grimacing against my traitorous body, I take hold of the waistband and tug the slacks down. It drops to the ground and pools around Jaegerjaques' feet, leaving him in nothing but a form-fitting pair of boxer briefs that leaves nothing to imagination.

I feel Jaegerjaques' piercing gaze on my face even though I keep my eyes glued to his feet.

"One more," he says teasingly. The fucker's smiling, I can hear it without even looking at him.

"No fucking way," I grit out, finally meeting his eyes, my blood boiling in my veins. "This is sexual harassment, asshole!"

Jaegerjaques winks at me. "So report me," he says.

Oh, he's just asking for it.

Sending him a murderous glare, I stomp to the door and burst out of his trailer. I scan the set for my mentor. There he is - I find his hulking frame within seconds, in the middle of yelling at a very unfortunate set assistant at the moment. I turn back to glower at Jaegerjaques, who has put on a navy blue silk sleeping robe. He folds his arms loosely over his chest and leans back against the door frame, then he looks at me with a challenging glint in his eyes.

I have to admit, Jaegerjaques is one good-looking bastard. He still has his makeup on - complete with a convincingly real split lip and bruises on his face, hair mussed to the heavens - but somehow he still manages to look like a model straight out of a magazine. Life is just not fair.

I give him one last look of disgust before jogging off towards Kenpachi. To be honest, I don't want to talk to the man any more than I need to, but I suppose this counts as a need. Surely Kenpachi wouldn't allow his intern to be subjected to this kind of treatment? I gulp as I go nearer. Up close, Kenpachi looks like the devil himself, the veins on his temples bulging as he rips the set assistant a new one. I recognize the poor sap - Hanatarou. Man, the kid just can't get a break.

"Kenpachi," I clear my throat to get his attention.

I catch a glimpse of Hanatarou's tear-streaked face when the two of them turn to me in unison. Kenpachi's one good eye threatens to bore a hole right through my skull.

"This better be good," he growls.

I swallow around the lump in my throat. "It's Jaegerjaques, sir," I say as calmly as I can. "He's sexually harassing me and it needs to stop."

Silence.

Hanatarou sniffles pitifully as I wait for Kenpachi to respond. The giant of a man blinks at me, the gesture almost comical - his mouth hanging open in a half snarl, a single eyebrow raised incredulously - then he throws his head back and guffaws. I wish I'm kidding, but I'm not. He actually rests his hand on Hanatarou's trembling shoulder and doubles over, howling in laughter like I've just made the world's funniest joke.

When the man finally straightens up again, he wipes his eye and says, still chuckling, "Deal with it, Kurosaki."

Huh?

"Ex-excuse me?" I blurt.

"I said deal with it," Kenpachi repeats slowly, staring me in the eye as he enunciates every syllable, his shark-like smile fading. "I'm not your babysitter, you're a big boy, Kurosaki."

For a long moment, I'm speechless. Utterly, helplessly speechless. Surely I've misheard. As I stare blankly at Kenpachi, still struggling to wrap my head around his cold-heartedness, the man's eyes flick up to look at something behind me. My heart sinks.

"Yo, Jaegerjaques," Kenpachi growls with a nod.

"Kenpachi," the unmistakable voice of my tormentor replies.

I whip my head around and bare my teeth at Jaegerjaques. The man flashes me a grin so bright that my eyeballs hurt. Acting like nothing is out of the ordinary, he strolls leisurely up to me and claps me on the shoulder.

"Say, can I ask you for a favor?" Jaegerjaques asks with a sickly sweet smile.

I shiver involuntarily - he's so close that he's practically purring into my ear. Call me paranoid, but I have a really, really bad feeling about this.

Kenpachi cocks his eyebrows inquiringly while I brace myself for the worst.

"Kurosaki has been extremely helpful to me," Jaegerjaques continues in that low, velvety voice of his. My blood runs cold as he gives my shoulder a squeeze. "So I was wondering...if you can assign him as my personal assistant?"

I'm pretty sure my heart skidded to a halt right then and there.

"What? No!" I sputter indignantly. "Of course not!" I look to Kenpachi for some kind of support, but one look at the shit-eating grin on his face immediately crushes my already-feeble hope.

"Sure!" Kenpachi says agreeably, ignoring my silent plea.

"This...this is not what I signed up for!" I protest frantically, stabbing my finger furiously in Jaegerjaques' direction just for good measure. "I'm here for a set production assistant internship! Not...not to be his errand boy!"

Kenpachi rolls his eye. "Don't be such a sniveling bitch, Kurosaki." He gives me a disdainful look. "You're my assistant, and you're gonna do what I tell you to do."

I can almost hear my blood draining from my face.

"So stop getting your panties in a bunch and do your job. I've got a movie to make, and I'm not going to let a whiny little snot-nosed brat screw it up," Kenpachi finishes with a vicious poke to my chest.

I will have you know that I exercised every ounce of my will to refrain myself from exploding. All the blood that has just fled from my face earlier come rushing back in a tidal wave of fury. Even the tips of my ears feel like they're on fire. I open my mouth to yell at Kenpachi, then, suddenly remembering how hard I've had to work to get this internship, I immediately deflate.

As if this is not already degrading enough, Jaegerjaques rubs it in with a cheery "Thanks Kenpachi! I knew I can always count on you!" before squeezing my shoulder again like we're best buddies. I hear the joints in my jaw creak as I grit my teeth with enough force to crush fingers - preferably Jaegerjaques' - and shoot the man a look of seething resentment.

I hate Grimmjow Jaegerjaques. I absolutely, thoroughly, hate this son of a bitch.

To be continued...