A/N: Somewhat NSFW. Enjoy.
Paige and Riley live in a pristine mid-century showpiece home high in the Hollywood Hills. They collect art and have impeccable taste in furnishings. There is nothing childproof in their home and the open staircase could prove fatal to a toddler. Then there's the south-facing wall of glass that provides, in relator terms, a commanding view of Los Angeles, now in full twinkle as far as the eye can see.
Outside, meticulously manicured landscape. In the back, a swimming pool shimmers in the starlight. Out front, his and hers Maseratis nap in the driveway. On the street, Jerry and Laura's driver surfs the web on his phone, killing time until he chauffeurs them home.
Inside, the Emmy broadcast replays on a sixty-nine-inch flat screen, providing most of the light in the living space.
Laura can't catch her breath. She arches back in an armchair facing the television, her nails digging into the chair's sides. She tries to speak but barely gets out the occasional syllable.
Across the room, looking out from the kitchen, Paige stands behind the island, leaning on her forearms. Jerry stands behind her, sipping another single malt. He may have had too much to drink, judging by the way he weaves back and forth. But, if you had x-ray vision and could see through the island, you would see a pair of tuxedo slacks clumped on the floor near high heels. You'd also see a designer gown hiked over thirty-four-inch hips. Most telling, you'd see that Jerry's movements are not the random wobbling of a balance-challenged drunk. He moves with purpose, his front-most part making repeated southern border crossings between Inner and Outer Paige.
But where is Riley?
"Farewell, Casey Fields," Jerry says. "Here's to going out on top."
"Thanks for the heads up," Paige says. She's disappointed her joke is lost on the others. It can be lonely holding the quickest wit in the room. But she raises a glass to Jerry.
Laura waves an empty hand without opening her eyes. And then, voila! Riley's arm pops into view from under Laura's gown, waving to acknowledge Jerry's cheers.
The broadcast replay reaches the segment where they won the award. "The Emmy goes to," Neil Patrick Harris says before opening the envelope. He gasps when he reads the card inside and the sound from the television goes, BLEEEP "The Casey Fields Mysteries!"
The events play out in real time, with Paige, Riley, Jerry, and Laura exchanging hugs. In the Welphelt's living room, Laura peers at the television and jumps to her feet, twisting Riley's neck.
"Ow!" Riley complains, still under Laura's gown. Laura yells at her husband.
"Jerry!" Jerry responds without breaking a hump.
"Yes, my love?" Laura locates the remote, hits pause, and drops it on a couch.
"You son of a bitch!"
"What did I do?" Jerry really doesn't know. Laura turns her anger on Paige.
"And you..." She aims at Paige.
"What did I do?" Paige, too, has no idea what Laura is griping about.
"Clearly," Laura says, "He's squeezing your ass." Jerry holds up both his hands, neither of which touches Paige's ass or any other part of her. Laura points to the television, where the image pauses on Jerry and Paige hugging. Sure enough, Jerry is fondling Paige's rear end.
"I thought you were my friend," Laura says.
"Correct me if I'm wrong, Laura," Paige responds, "But was my husband's face not just planted in your bush?" Riley digs his way out from Laura's dress and chimes in.
"It was." Not helping.
"Not on national television," Laura bellows then turns to Jerry. "How could you?"
"I was in the moment," Jerry explains, "And maybe a little tipsy." He has yet to remove himself from Paige's vagina.
"'One Scotch, maybe two, I promise,'" Laura quotes Jerry. "Look at you. You're so trashed you can barely stand." She zips her gown with a vengeance.
"Laura..." Jerry starts.
"Don't 'Laura' me. I was fine with all this, as long as it stayed between the four of us. But now I've got to explain to everyone, including my parents, why my husband is fondling another woman in front of the entire world and me! You've got fifteen seconds to get out of her, into your clothes, and out that door." Jerry doesn't move a muscle. Paige tries to nudge him along.
"Maybe you should..." Paige tells him. He realizes the position they are in and slides away from her.
"I should," he says. Laura is halfway out the door. Jerry stumbles into his pants and trails her. The door slams on his exit. Riley rises to his feet. Paige gets close to him. They take a deep breath, alone for the first time all day.
"What a day," Riley understates.
"I'm glad they're gone," Paige says.
"Me, too. The whole time, I was wishing it was just you and me."
Paige faces Riley. Her eyes go all lovey-dovey. Riley pulls her into a deep, passionate kiss. Paige moans and pulls away.
"What's wrong?" Riley asks. Paige sniffs Riley's face and licks her lips. He's got Laura all over him. She licks his lips this time. Her breath halts. Just as suddenly as she pulled away from Riley, she now pulls him into her, locking him into an even deeper kiss. Riley pushes her down to the couch and climbs atop her.
"Ow!" Paige exclaims, pulling the television remote from under her backside. She tosses it across the room. It lands on its 'Play' button and the Emmy broadcast starts back up. On screen, Paige and Riley make their way to the stage along with Lindsey Green and accept their statues from Neil Patrick Harris.
In the living room, Paige and Riley make love to the soundtrack of Riley's acceptance speech. When his speech gets to the part where he thanks Lindsey, Paige stops the sex.
"Hold on," she tells Riley. On the show, Riley finishes his thank you. Paige takes a step toward the microphone, but Lindsey charges forward, cutting Paige off.
"That little bitch," Paige says. Riley has seen enough. He resumes the sex. Paige closes her eyes and enjoys it.
"I'd like to thank all my fans," Lindsey says on the television. "Go, Green Beans!" The pace picks up between Riley and Paige, but nothing can stop Lindsey's speech. "Thanks to everyone at KidTime, my super fantastic agent, our amazing creative team, Riley, and gosh, anyone else I'm forgetting."
Paige explodes into a loud orgasm. On the television, she steps up to the microphone and opens her mouth, its shape an exact match to the vowel in her orgasm. But before she can speak, the orchestra plays her off. Lindsey remains in the shot, her face sparkling.
THE FOLLOWING MORNING
Lindsey's face towers thirty feet tall on the side of the KidTime studios on Sunset Boulevard in a poster for the Casey Fields Mysteries. Workers apply a banner to the poster that reads, "Emmy Award Winner."
"It's MY face on the side of the building!" Lindsey throws a tantrum in Riley's direction on the Casey Fields set. Paige stays out of the fray, dividing her attention between a script on a laptop and the news on a tablet. Riley just wants to get this last scene in the can and put the series to rest.
"I've played Casey for six seasons," Lindsey says on Monday. "I think I know what she would or wouldn't say by now." Paige joins the conversation.
"I might have a little more insight," she says, "being that I created the character."
"I could care less what you created," Lindsey snaps.
"Couldn't care less," Paige corrects her. The repair of Lindsey's grammar misses its mark.
"Fine," she says. "We're even. Write whatever you want. I'm going to say what I want." Riley steps in.
"Lindsey, give us a few minutes to come up with something, okay?" That calms her.
"I'll be in my trailer," she says, her back already turned and feet in motion. When she's out of earshot, Paige turns to Riley.
"Is it just me, or does she get more twatty with each passing year?"
"I'll talk to her," Riley says, but Paige is not happy.
"Don't do this to me again."
"Do what?"
"You make me be the bad mommy, while you bounce around like the fun dad who only has the kids every other weekend. We're supposed to be a team." Something on her tablet makes her gasp.
"What?" Riley asks.
"We're trending."
"Who's trending?"
"Jerry's hand and my famous booty," she says. "Oh, my god - we made TMZ." She positions the tablet for Riley to see. On screen, a TMZ report unfolds.
"And in a surprise even bigger than the kiddie show winning an Emmy," the reporter says, "as KidTime VP Jerry Simon groping the show's co-creator, Paige Welphelt. Well-felt, indeed."
"That's pretty funny," Riley says. Paige shushes him as the reporter continues.
"In a statement released this morning, KidTime accepted Simon's resignation, stating the VP's conduct was not in line with the channel's family-friendly image. Simon will enter rehab for addictions to alcohol, drugs, and sex, citing an ongoing affair with Paige Welphelt, whose lip slip has gone viral."
"What lip slip?" Paige wonders aloud. The report cuts to the last interview they did with E!
"So what's next for you two?" the reporter asks. Paige goes to whisper in Riley's ear, but a microphone somewhere picked up her voice.
"No more fucking kids, that's for sure," is what Paige said to make Riley laugh. TMZ bleeped out the offending syllable.
The TMZ reporter comes back, "Apparently, she didn't realize she was on a hot mic." Paige is aghast.
"Oh, fuck. What are we going to do?" she asks Riley.
"We're award-winning producers," Riley assures her. "We're going to put Casey Fields to bed and seize every opportunity that's coming our way."
An administrative assistant ducks his head into the stage. "Guys," he calls to Paige and Riley, "They need to see you upstairs."