Wish You Were Here

"Do you know how old I am?" you whisper.
"Mmm-hmm." A hand slips underneath the skirt of your dress and pulls you higher against his body. "Do you know how old I am?"
"Yeah."
"Does it bother you?"
For a moment you stop. Does it bother you? you ask yourself. But then you feel his breath on your skin, open your eyes again just enough to look at him. He doesn't look his age. He doesn't act like it, either. And anyway, people are always telling you you're an old soul. Is it really that big a deal?
You reach out to tilt his face back towards yours. Instead of answering, you just kiss him again. He laughs against your mouth, kisses back. And slowly he slides your body off the bench and guides you over to the bed.

======================

You are a writer in your early twenties, fresh out of a long term relationship and dying to shake up your sex life. Enter the actor, a handsome British thespian much older than you, often branded as the internet's boyfriend, who you meet on set of the movie adaptation of your novel.
It's easy to convince each other that your completely inappropriate attraction is nothing but a fun, secret fling, no strings attached. But your out-of-this-world chemistry is threatened by the media, who swoop dangerously close to exposing the predatory age gap and tanking one (or both) of your careers.