Playboy Morning Show - Episode 8

Kevin and Andrea sat across from Efren Ramirez and Jon Gries, the two men who played Pedro and Uncle Rico in Napoleon Dynamite. The lighting was low, warm, the table between them scattered with microphones and half-drunk glasses of water. Kevin asked the first question and Efren answered with that soft, steady voice he used on screen, but Andrea kept watching the way Jon’s fingers tapped the table, slow and sure, like he was testing how much he could get away with before someone noticed. They moved into Know It or Show It. Kevin read the card and looked at Efren first. Efren smiled, almost shy, then stood up, took off his shirt without asking, and showed the faint scar above his hip where a dog bit him as a kid. Andrea’s eyes stayed on the line of muscle that ran from his ribs to the waistband of his jeans. Jon leaned back, arms behind his head, and said he’d rather know. Andrea asked him what he liked in bed. Jon answered in the same flat, dry tone he used as Uncle Rico, but the words were filthy—how he liked to pin a woman’s wrists above her head and fuck her until her voice broke. Andrea shifted in her seat, felt the heat gather low in her belly. Kevin laughed once, short, then went quiet when Jon looked straight at him and said he didn’t mind an audience. Efren reached across the table, took Andrea’s hand, turned it palm-up, and traced the inside of her wrist with his thumb. The touch was light, but it landed deep. She didn’t pull away. Jon stood, came around the table, and stopped behind her chair. He put his hands on her shoulders, thumbs pressing into the tight spots near her neck. Efren stayed where he was, watching. Kevin’s hand slid under the table and found Andrea’s knee, then higher, fingers slipping beneath the hem of her skirt. She opened her legs a little, let him touch. Jon leaned down, mouth close to her ear, and told her to keep her eyes on Efren while Kevin’s fingers moved against her. She did. Efren’s gaze was steady, dark. He never looked away. Jon’s breath was warm on her neck. Kevin’s fingers were slick now, moving in slow circles, then faster. Andrea’s breath caught. She reached for Efren’s hand across the table and squeezed it hard when she came, quiet but obvious, thighs shaking under Kevin’s palm. Jon straightened up, satisfied. Efren lifted her hand and kissed the inside of her wrist, right where his thumb had been. Kevin pulled his hand back, licked his fingers once, and reached for the next card like nothing had happened.