by Drew Sera
“You’ve known him a long time to just toss the friendship out the window, J.P.”
“I know. He has a new muse that he devotes a lot of his time to now. Things are just a little complex right now.” He paused for another moment before going in another direction. “So, are any characters in your books based on you or people that you know?”
“Yeah, it’s almost impossible for me not to embed pieces of me, or people I know in my books. Even when I don’t do it on purpose, I still find traces when I read them back. Or Sam will point something out. She’ll say it’s so obvious, yet I would gloss right over it without giving it another passing thought.”
“Are any of your male characters, Emilio in particular, based on guys you know?”
I laughed lightly and shook my head at his curiosity.
“I was just curious, is all,” J.P. said innocently.
“I’ve known many men like Emilio.”
“I thought so.”
“Why?” I asked. “I’m just curious,” I said, coining his own phrase.
I smiled when I heard him laugh, knowing that he picked up on me tossing the phrase back to him.
“Knowing that authors tend to write what they know, and considering that was your first book, I knew that somewhere along your life there must have been an ‘Emilio’ with a broken heart.”
“How do you know it’s Emilio that was left with a broken heart? It could have been my heart that was broken.”
J.P. was quiet and when he spoke again, his tone was gentler.
“Did someone break your heart, Amy Andrews?”
I had a feeling that he probably already knew this, or guessed it at least. J.P. is a very bright guy. I felt no harm in admitting that to him and I felt that my answer was safe with him.
“It was a long time ago, J.P. The book was a way for me to get over it and move on from it,” I admitted.
“Love is tricky,” he said. “You find someone, think you have something great going, and then they crush you.”
“Mmm, sounds like you might be speaking from experience in that department, too.”
“Maybe,” he laughed gently.
“So, who was it? Recent? You sound kind of bitter for it not to be a recent destructive blow to the stomach,” I lightly joked, hoping he’d take it in good stride.
“Amy, it’s late,” he said in his soothing, deep voice. “You’ve been up many hours, traveling, and talking all day to fans. I should let you get some rest.”
Figures. I start a personal conversation and he steps back. I glanced at the clock, stunned.
“Oh! Have we been talking on the phone that long?”
J.P. laughed and confirmed that we had been on the phone for two and a half hours.
“Wow, sorry to have kept you on the phone that long, J.P. Early night at the club?” I asked.
“No, I actually didn’t go tonight. I wanted to hear about your day. Granted, I figured we’d just be texting, but I wanted to be home to give your texts attention.”
He stayed home from his kink club for me. How sweet is that? J.P. forfeited a night of kinky sex just to text with me.
“I’m glad you called me, J.P.”
“Haha, I’m glad you answered. You have a sweet voice, just like how I imagined Jeannie had.”
“Aw, that’s kind of you.”
“I wonder if Jeannie’s voice sounded just as sweet as she lay, moaning and gasping for life in the street under a mangled moped and bus,” he joked.
“Hey,” I said. “I didn’t write any gruesome stuff in.”
“I know,” J.P. had a mischievous inflection in his voice. I picked up on it being the sadist in him.
“Sadist,” I said.
“Princess,” he said back as he laughed.
“Oh, so now I’m a princess?” I teased.
“Yes, Amy Andrews. You are indeed a princess with your sweet romances. Speaking of which, I’m going to read a few chapters of Country Chic. And we’re almost at three hours on the phone. You need to go to sleep.”
“Yes, sir!” I said in a mocking seductive tone.
“Oh, princess, you shouldn’t tease me like that. Calling me ‘sir’ could land you in a whole new, dark world,” J.P. warned.
My voice caught in my throat and took a sip of water before speaking again.
“Maybe I’d like the dark, J.P.”
“Princess, you have no idea what the dark really looks like. Now, I’d like for you to get some sleep. I’m waiting on pins and needles for the book I’m helping you with. And if you’re tired, you won’t be able to concentrate tomorrow.”
“Wait, don’t you enjoy pins and needles?” I asked sarcastically.
“Princess, haven’t you learned anything over the past month or so? I need to give pain, not be in pain.”
“That’s right,” I nodded. “Sadists need to give pain; masochists need to receive it,” I recited.
“Very good, princess. You’re learning. And now you’re going to bed.”
“Yes, I am. Thank you for calling tonight and for the chat. I enjoyed it, J.P.”
“I did too. We’ll do this again. Now sleep well, Princess Amy Andrews.”
“Goodnight, Romantic Sadist J.P.—” I paused as I realized that I don’t even know his last name yet. “I was going to use your full name, but don’t know your last name. Is it really ‘Fever’?”
His sexy laugh came through the receiver.
“Goodnight, Amy.”
“Goodnight, J.P.”
Chapter 10
February
J.P.
My drive home wasn’t nearly as smooth as the drive down to San Diego. There was a ton more traffic, and while it annoyed me, it was worth the trip. I didn’t go to see the famous Amy Andrews, I went to see my friend.
And she was well worth the trip.
I thought of her the entire drive home. Her sun-kissed skin was flawless in that black strappy dress. And fuck, those purple shoes, and matching nails just tied everything together. She embodied her logo and branding. Even if readers hadn’t known what she looked like and were showing up to meet her, they would know it was Amy Andrews the second they saw the black and purple.
She was very smart to have done that. Possibly Samantha Kelly had her hands in that. That Samantha Kelly was an energetic battery. I could tell they had a good friendship and that everything Amy has told me over the phone was true concerning the pair.
As I slowly moved along in the traffic, I glanced at the bag on my passenger seat. It held all the goodies that Amy told me are usually included in them. More importantly, it also held my personal copy of Paris.
I got home in time to change and head to the club, but for some reason I wasn’t interested in going. I sat down on the couch to examine all the stuff in the bag, but first pulled out the copy of Paris and gently set it on the cushion next to me. I sifted through bookmarks, pens and a slew of other items, most of which I wasn’t really interested in. I was interested in Amy Andrews’ stuff though. In the bag, I found a bright purple pen that said “Amy Andrews” on the side along with her website, and I found a black pen with her purple rose logo. I smiled at my acquisitions and put the pens on the end table. I might even bravely take one to work.
Glancing at my watch, I knew that I still had time to get to the club. Despite being a little worn out, even if I didn’t scene with someone, I could still watch people. God knows I enjoyed watching. Especially my little muse.
But really what I wanted to do was to hear from Amy. I knew it’d be dark by the time they headed home and I wanted to make sure they arrived okay. I hope they’d stopped for food before beginning their journey home. I doubted Samantha would let Amy go very long without pushing the food and hydration thing. I had a feeling Samantha watched over Amy very closely. But still, I was concerned.
While I flipped through Paris, my phone vibrated with an incoming text. Excellent! It was Amy.
Amy: The book event is over, and we’re heading back to C
osta Mesa.
Now was my time to remind her gently about some food. Hopefully, she’ll be receptive to it and not think that I was trying to control her life. I certainly wasn’t, but I tended to think of these things.
J.P.: Good to hear. Are you guys going to eat before you head back?
Amy: Yep, we’re going to grab a bite first.
Good. Food issue seems under control, now for the safety part of it.
J.P.: Drive safely, and if you don’t mind, please text me when you get home.
Amy: It might be late. Perhaps close to 11:00 p.m. I don’t want to disturb you if you’re at your club tonight.
I made my mind up; I wasn’t going to the club. It’d be a good hour before I knew that she’d made it home safely. I could take a shower and unwind before she texts. Maybe check out some new uploads on Kinky Links. I needed to hear from Amy tonight, though. So, I had to reassure her that whatever time it was, I didn’t care. I just needed a text from her.
J.P.: It’ll be fine. I keep my phone on silent mode when I get there. I want to know you made it home safely. Please text me, Amy.
When I got her confirmation that she would text me when she got home, I set off to take a shower and then settled in on my bed with my laptop and Kinky Links. Someone had uploaded a few new images with a little masochist, bound in chains. I could tell that she had been caned and felt myself stiffen. Picture after picture displayed the marks left by the cane. They were beautiful, but I felt that the chains got in the way of the natural beauty of the marks.
I enjoyed the idea of the restraints but would have rather seen rope or even silk scarves used. Chains have their time and place; like on men. Like the male house subs at the club. Chains look incredible on the guys. Muscles and chains go together well and create a highly erotic visual. These chains were too heavy for the girl in the pictures. It was the marks left behind by the cane that pushed me to jack off. Visually I could have done without the chains.
With my bare stomach decorated with my cum load, I flipped over to my own pictures and went to the album for those “not mine yet.” I marveled at the images and eventually was able to come to those as well. I added another sprinkling of cum to my abdomen before setting the laptop to the side.
“Someday, I’ll have your warm flesh in my grip,” I said to the screen.
I reached over and rubbed a little dab of my cum on my little muse’s body in the image.
“Someday.”
I went to the bathroom and washed off my cum before grabbing the electronic cleaner to clean up my laptop. When I came back to my room from tossing the rag in the laundry room, my phone was lit up.
“Amy’s home,” I smiled.
Amy: Just made it home.
I knew she was tired and probably still trying to put stuff away and get organized. I knew Amy was a very detailed and ultra-organized person. I knew this from many weeks of talking to her and seeing how she functioned on social media. I wanted her to settle down though and relax. She’s been on the go all day, and from watching her in action, there is no down time during those events. If I weren’t selfish, I’d just tell her to go to bed. But I was selfish, and I wanted to hear about her day.
J.P.: You guys made good time. I hope the event went well.
I waited on the edge of my bed with the phone in my hand for her text response to come over. I waited and waited.
J.P.: Are you around?
I waited again and then began to pace some.
J.P.: Still up?
Maybe she had enough energy to send the “I’m home” text and then crash. I don’t like not having some kind of closure to conversations. Not that I’m involved in many text conversations with other people, but the few that I have, I need closure to them. When they just drop, I feel out of control.
Amy: Hi! Yes, I’m still up. I was just getting settled.
I quickly thought. I wanted to talk to her, even just for a few minutes. But I figured I’d have more of a captive audience with her over the phone versus texting and then waiting for her to pick the phone up again. I don’t know how she’d react to me calling her without warning. Asking was better. She could say ‘no’ though. But would she?
J.P.: May I call you?
I hit send and stared for many long moments before she sent back a response.
Amy: Call me? As in on the phone?
She made me smile. There was something innocent about her that just pushed all my buttons. Those innocent ones usually do captivate me. But this was different.
Amy was different.
And she was going to see that I’m different.
I pushed the “call” button on the phone and cleared my throat before her sweet voice said, “Hello,” in my ear.
Chapter 11
February
Amy
I spent three solid hours writing before I had to meet Samantha at our usual coffee house. Though I only got a few hours of sleep, I felt good. And maybe it was due to my long phone call with J.P. last night.
With my coffee in hand, I headed towards the patio table Sam was sitting at in the partial sun. Many people avoid tables that are in the direct sunlight, but she knew that I loved them. Since it was mostly cloudy, I removed my sunglasses as I sat down.
Samantha had her notebook and scheduling calendar out and was scribbling away. She glanced up while writing and then did a double take at me before setting her pen down.
“You look like shit, Aims,” she said sounding surprised.
“Like, emoji shit or actual poop on the ground?” I joked.
We both laughed, and I waved my hand in the air.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean that you looked terrible. At least not hideous. You look tired, is all I meant. Did you stay up working on your newsletter after you got in? I told you that I’d work on it this weekend. I want you to let me help you with that so you can concentrate on your new book.”
“Yes, the new book, I know.”
“I can’t wait to see what you’ve done in the dark sector with the help from the sadist. Have you heard from him today?” she asked.
My smile couldn’t be contained, and I was grinning from ear to ear. Sam cocked her head to the side, looking at me as if I were up to something. I opened up my last text from J.P. and set the phone on the table so Samantha could see.
J.P.: Morning princess. Thanks for last night, Amy. I’m glad you enjoyed it too. Have a fantastic day. I’m pulling an extra shift at work today for someone who called in sick, so I will catch you this evening.
Samantha’s mouth fell open, and she stared at me and then picked my phone up to re-read the text.
“Amy Johnson what did you do? WHAT did you do? I dropped you off last night and figured you’d be passed out fast asleep before I even made it home. What, did you do? Start talking, Aims.”
I laughed when she used my legal first and last name and shook my head as I reclaimed my phone.
“Relax. I sent him a text last night when I got home, knowing he’d be out at his club. So, I wasn’t expecting a response from him. But, he responded, and then he called me.”
“Called you? Like—” Samantha picked her phone up and held it up to her ear. “Like this?”
“Very smart, Sam. Yes, we had a phone conversation that lasted nearly three hours.”
“What? That’s why you’re all sleepy looking with suitcases under your eyes. You were talking to the sadist. It’s so sweet.” She slapped my arm. “What did you guys gab about for three hours? This is so exciting…tell me.”
“We talked about the book event a lot. He went on a bit about Emilio from Paris. He said he downloaded Country Chic and asked me if I killed Sara off.”
“He’d probably get off to it,” Samantha said under her breath.
“What? No. He was sad over Emilio losing Jeannie in Paris. He said before he proceeded in County Chic he needed to know if I killed off Sara.”
“Really? The sadist with a romantic side.”
“Yeah! That’s what
I said too! I called him my ‘romantic sadist.’”
“So, tell me where the ‘princess’ comes into play at,” she said.
“He was saying that I had a sweet-sounding voice, just as he’d imagined. I thought that was so nice of him. Then he said that he had wondered if Jeannie’s voice sounded sweet as she was dying on the side of the road in the moped accident. Then we joked about the gruesome details of her death that weren’t in the book, but how he was curious about that part. So, naturally, I called him a ‘sadist’ and then he laughed and called me a ‘princess.’”
“Unbelievable. Well, I’m happy you and J.P. got to talk last night. You certainly seem to be in a good mood today.” I smiled at her and sipped my coffee. “Okay, well in other exciting news, aside from J.P., you’ve had a jump in sales for Love Chords and Swiss Charm. I think it’s a combination of the ad campaign and the book event yesterday. Things are moving really well right now, Aims.”
“Thanks, Sam…and I still don’t have an answer to the question that’s on the tip of your tongue.”
“The release date for Dark Kiss,” Samantha sighed.
She’s been pressing me for it, but I just can’t commit to a date for the release yet.
“I’m almost done with it. I plan on spending the afternoon working. I’ll keep my phone in the other room so I have no distractions.”
“And you won’t have to worry that you’re missing anything from J.P. since he’s working all day and said he’d talk to you tonight. So, go. Coffee time is done, and it’s time for you to go work. I’m going to network with some of the P.A.’s for the dark romance authors I met yesterday at the event.”
I gathered my purse and slung it over my shoulder.
