Gay as cotton candy

"I just got off the phone with his agent. He's refusing to do the scene as written. Says we have to cut it," Preston said, plopping down in his chair at his shared desk.

"Actors, so dramatic. Did his agent say why?" Wyatt responded without even looking up from his phone.

"Something about an unflattering pap shot of him changing on the beach a couple years ago."

"Oh hahaha, yeah, I totally forgot about that. Didn't the tabloid run the photo right next to an ad for that butt-blasting workout class? Man, they're heartless," Wyatt said breathlessly between laughs.

"Yeah, which is why he isn't keen to have it photographed again," Preston said, a tinge annoyed. He couldn't believe how amused Wyatt had become.

"The irony is, if he had done that workout, this wouldn't be an issue."

"Wyatt! Not helpful."

"What? The class worked wonders for me."

"Yeah, I was there when you split your shorts at the company picnic in Griffith Park." The memory brought a small smirk to Preston's typically stern face.

"You signed an NDA!"

"Yeah, that you typed on your phone while waiting for an Uber with my hoodie tied around your waist." Wyatt's eyes went wide, a silent plea-- keep your voice down. "I hardly think that's legally binding; besides, bringing it up with you is hardly disclosing it."

"Oh, never mind! The higher-ups were adamant that the film needed rear male nudity if it had any hope of performing well with women ages 18-34 and gay guys ages 18-99."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, but we're the most junior people on the producing staff. How is this our problem?"

"Maybe you forgot the only reason this movie has a headline-making star is because he was your freshman year roommate at USC. It's also the only reason they let us on the project in the first place. If we can't get a suitable double the picture's toast, and so are we."

"A double?"

"Yeah, since he doesn't want to show cheek, we have to get a double."

" A stunt butt," Wyatt said, pleased with himself.

Preston rolled his eyes. "Come on, I already emailed the casting director."

"Let's go peep some cheeks."

***

When they got to the casting office on the other side of the backlot, Preston and Wyatt were shocked to see the waiting room filled with a dozen young men. These guys all had no place to be on a Tuesday afternoon and a willingness to drop trou for total strangers. There's no place like Los Angeles.

"Gentlemen," Preston began, "thank you for getting here on such short notice. I know this doesn't feel particularly glamorous, but if one of you can help us out today, you will be saving our asses, pun intended." The expectant actors responded with tepid laughter.

"So the shot is very simple," Wyatt interjected. "Our leading man gets up out of bed, walks across the room to his discarded pants and underwear, and pulls them up. We'll give you some privacy to take off your pants and underwear, you'll take a seat on the prop bed, and then walk across the room and put your pants back on."

"Minimal hair or blemishes are fine today, hair and makeup will handle that on the day," Preston added. Two hairier guys exchanged crestfallen looks.

Over the next hour, they watched fifteen hopefuls attempt the simple scene. Never in their lives did Wyatt and Preston think they'd spend so much time appraising men's butts. But they still hadn't found the right one.

The Broadway chorus boy trying his luck in LA was too slender to believably be their star. The reality TV reject clearly spent a great deal of time at the squat rack, so much so that no one would believe that the star could hide that much ass under his pants in his clothed scenes.

Wyatt stifled his laughter when one auditioner revealed a smiley face tattooed on his left cheek. Preston sympathetically recommended his dermatologist to a gentleman with a particularly inflamed case of acne, you know where. "My agent didn't tell me what this audition was, I'm so sorry," he said as he got dressed.

"Call that doctor. Today. He's a miracle worker, truly." The actor looked appreciative; he'd be embarrassed if he saw the gagging faces Preston and Wyatt made after he left the room.

Before long, they were shocked by the next hopeful. He bent over to retrieve his pants in such a way that he flashed his hole to the camera. There's no editing around that. Finding the right double was going to be harder than they thought.

"This is taking too long," Wyatt grumbled.

"It's not like I'm enjoying this," Preston said through gritted teeth. Their most recent auditionee had just finished zipping his fly and turned to face the producing team, flashing his megawatt smile.

"I'm willing to wax for the role," he said too enthusiastically.

"Yes, we heard you the first time. Thank you," Wyatt cooed sarcastically.

"I went to Juilliard," the actor grumbled under his breath on his way out the door.

"I'm gonna speed this up," Wyatt said, shooting up from behind the folding table. He stuck his head out the door into the waiting room. "Can everyone who's still waiting come in here?"

The seven remaining guys filed into the audition room.

"What are you doing?" Preston whispered to his partner.

"If you want to stay here all day and ogle dude ass, be my guest, but I'm ready to get the fuck out of here and wash my eyes out."

"Point taken, you lead the way."

"Ok guys, sorry for the long wait," Wyatt began. "We're just going to check and see if any of you have the right look before we make you act out the whole scene. If you guys could just ditch your shirts and pants, feel free to leave your undies on. Once you're all stripped, I'll have you roll your shorts down, and we'll go from there."

Some of the actors seemed a bit uncomfortable stripping down in front of their competition, but this likely wasn't the craziest request from a casting director they had received this week. In no time, all the remaining guys were standing in a line in just their underwear.

"Ok, face the wall." They all turned around. "Now roll down your shorts just below the cheeks. Perfect." Wyatt stood up from behind the table and began pacing up and down the line. "Now, this is nothing personal, we're just trying to see who is the best match, please don't take offense to anything I'm about to say." It was minute, but Preston could see each guy's cheeks clench slightly with anticipation. His own cheeks clenched reflexively, bracing himself for whatever Wyatt might say.

"Too pale, too flabby, too flat, too wide, too hairy, too many freckles, too saggy." In an instant, Wyatt had dismissed all of the remaining options. The guys, blushing, dressed quickly, and were out the door even faster.

"Wyatt, those were the last people casting sent. None of them was good enough?"

"P, I'm sorry, they just weren't right."

"What are we going to do? They're shooting this scene in three days."

"Let me call casting and see if they can send anyone else tomorrow. Shit, my phone is dying." Wyatt crossed the room, searching for an outlet. He found one on the other side of the room, just a foot above the floor. As Wyatt bent down to plug in his charger, he struggled to get it into the socket. He moved back and forth slightly as he jimmied it in.

On the opposite side of the room, Preston soaked in the view of his partner bent over. Wyatt's butt filled the back of his chinos exceptionally well. It wasn't so big as to be imposing, but also wasn't small or flat in any way. It was...perfect.

"Wyatt, I have an idea." The young producer whipped his head around to look at his co-producer. Confused by his wordless grin. Then it dawned on him.

"No. No. Absolutely not."

***

"Can we get the double on set for the insert shot?" the assistant director's words crackled through the production assistant's walkie-talkie.

Wyatt was in the hair and makeup trailer, sitting backward in the makeup chair. An assistant MUA had Wyatt's robe hiked up above his waist to apply a generous amount of powder to each cheek. Wyatt's face burned with a red-hot blush. Preston sat in the makeup chair opposite him, surpassing a smile.

"We need a few more minutes and some more powder," the makeup artist said into the radio before exiting the trailer.

"We couldn't even get a hot makeup artist?" Wyatt lamented to his partner.

"I think he's quite fetching," Preston quipped.

"Oh, you're loving this."

"Well, you said it yourself, the butt blasting class worked miracles." Wyatt suddenly remembered that he was still exposed and went to pull down his robe to protect his rump from his buddy's prying eyes.

"Uh-uh, you'll mess it up, keep that there," the makeup artist said, smacking Wyatt's hand. Wyatt pouted like a scolded puppy. With a couple more strokes of the brush, the makeup artist was satisfied with his work. "That's as good as I can get it."

"Thanks," Wyatt said wryly.

"Will you hold up the back of his robe so the makeup doesn't smudge?"

"Me?" Preston asked incredulously.

"Who else is here? Try not to touch the cheeks too much, you'll smudge him."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Preston grumbled.

The walk from the makeup trailer to set was brief, yet mortifying. The early call time meant that the typical Southern California heat had yet to set in. Wyatt was practically shivering in nothing but a thin robe. With Preston holding the back of the robe like the world's strangest train bearer, the two had to walk in clipped, small steps. They looked ridiculous.

At one point, Wyatt stopped suddenly to dodge a careening golf cart, forcing Preston to bump into him, getting a handful of cheek in the process.

"Preston, this is absurd!"

"I know Wy, but it's an insert shot. Most of the crew has gone home for the day. We should be done in less than an hour. Easy."

"Maybe you're right."

Preston could not have been more wrong. The set was bustling when they entered the sound stage. When the star of the film found out that his old college buddy was serving as his double, he found the story too funny not to tell. Now, the A-Lister and the entire producing staff were on set, ready to see Wyatt's booty debut.

All the color drained from Wyatt's face when he saw two dozen producers and studio executives huddled around the monitor in video village. They were all about to see his bare butt in 4K.

The executive producer. who knew both Preston and Wyatt since childhood and who they had interned under, flashed a megawatt smile at the two junior producers. "Wyatt, wait to be resourceful. You've got a future in this."

"Thanks, chief," Wyatt stuttered. Preston was still awkwardly shadowing him with the robe hiked up in the air. Wyatt looked down to confirm that everything up front was still covered. "I thought it would be more of a closed set for such an intimate scene," Wyatt mused, frustrated by how much his voice betrayed his anxiety.

"Maybe for J Law or Scar Jo, but not for a butt double, least of all a guy butt double." He laughed. You're not nervous, are you?" Wyatt failed to meet his superior's gaze. The older producer let out a mischievous chuckle. "If I remember correctly, your old man shelled out a pretty penny to the LAPD to get a public indecency charge for streaking wiped off your record."

"You know about that?"

"Hell yeah, I know about that! It was the talk of boardrooms from Studio City to Burbank for six months. Just think of it like that day. You weren't too embarrassed then, were you?"

Wyatt was embarrassed back then; it wasn't so much a purposeful streak as it was a skinny-dipping-clothes-stolen situation, but the point was well taken. "Listen, kid, plenty of producers show their ass every day in this town. You're just putting a finer point on it. You should be proud."

The producer moved to give Wyatt an atta-boy slap on the ass but noticed Preston still awkwardly standing there holding the robe. The producer pivoted to a more reassuring there there pat on the top of Wyatt's cheeks over the robe. He gave a thumbs-up to Preston. "Good on you, Preston, way to be a buddy."

"Now, Wyatt, will you go flash your ass, so us guys can have a good laugh and the crew can get home before we have to start paying them overtime."

"Sure thing!"