screams for help.
"Shut up!" Baudelaire yells at her.
Someone pounds on the door. "What's going on in there?" hears a familiar voice say.
"Shit," Baudelaire mutters, walking to the door and cracking it open.
"Help me!" screams.
Baudelaire is pushed back and George Clooney walks in. "Oh my God, what are you doing to her?" he asks the director.
"We're practicing for a scene."
"No! We're not!"
George shakes his head and walks up to the poor girl. "Are you okay?" he asks her.
"I... I guess," she says nervously.
"Let me help you," he tells her as he unties her. "Where are your clothes?"
"Umm, I don't know."
He takes off his shirt. "Here, you can wear this," he says. is grateful not only for the covering but also for the close-up view of Clooney's well-toned chest. |