Jojo's French Escape

by Lorraine Wilson

  Hi JoJo, how’s things? I know you don’t keep up with any celebrity stuff nowadays so you might not have heard the news? Anyway, I thought you should know – Sex in Surburbia is doing a summer special not a million miles away from where you’re staying. It can’t be a coincidence surely? I’m wondering if that’s why Sally asked to meet up with you all along? I bet the sneaky cow wants to manipulate some drama or other and plans to have a reporter or five on speed dial.

  So, if you were thinking of meeting them please don’t FFS! Not that I thought you would but sometimes you’re too nice for your own good sis. Seeing the best in people and giving them the benefit of the doubt makes you a good person but it also leaves you wide open for getting shafted and I couldn’t bear to see anything like that happen to you again.

  Are you sure I can’t come out and see you? I could bring out the café sale documents to sign rather than getting them couriered. Also I could be around to give that cow-breath Sally a good bitch slap if she tries anything. Or Aiden for that matter, and you know exactly where I’d like to hit him ;-)

  Hugs xx

  After I’ve read Annabel’s email my jaw is rigid, and my hands tighten their grip on my mobile phone. I try to contain my fury that of all the places in the world to film a summer special they are coming to my special place. This part of France is my safe hideaway, it’s protected and kept me safe and now it’s being invaded.

  Also I’m angry that they’ve spoiled my post-sex high. I was feeling lovely before I read that email, floating on a serene cloud of blissed-out hormones. Happy. That’s it.

  But now that feels tainted. Like I’m never going to get away from my past. I close my eyes tight and breathe deeply, trying to recover some of the bliss I felt earlier, lying in Cal’s arms.

  Is it just a coincidence or is someone behind this, orchestrating yet more drama, yet more misery to sell to viewers? Of course, it can’t be pure coincidence, France is a big place and Languedoc isn’t as well known as Provence or the Cote d’Azur.

  Well, I won’t be talking to anyone from the show. As if! So I’ve nothing to worry about then. But still a gnawing anxiety is squirming in the pit of my stomach and a low-frequency anger pulses through me. Cal is right. It’s really time I moved on from all this. I need there to be more to me than ‘the disgraced TV star’. I’m tired of always playing it safe.

  Is it too risky to carry on my affair with Cal if there are going to be reporters hanging around? It is an affair, isn’t it? I know it can never go anywhere; it’s a holiday fling and Cal will be going back to London at the end of the summer. My home is here now, and his television career is in London and I already know what he thinks about long-distance relationships. Didn’t I hear him tell Leo he wasn’t prepared to go there, that it was too much trouble?

  I don’t think I can bear to miss a single minute of it because of fear. The sex with Cal is amazing and my body constantly craves more affection, more Cal and more sex.

  I won’t let Sally or Aiden or anyone from the press spoil this for me.

  I put the email to the back of my mind, where it festers, and go in search of Cal as soon as I’ve finished making up all the beds that need to be done.

  I find him in his room. I have no reservations about sex here instead of my room. My dormant sex drive has gone through the roof since we first had sex and I’ll admit I’m insatiable.

  ‘Hey you.’ Cal greets me with a wide smile and closes his laptop. It’s a sign of how happy I am that I don’t even cast it a second look. Well, barely, anyway. Of course, he’s not trying to hide anything, why would he be? He’s probably guessed I’m worried about webcams and is closing it out of consideration.

  ‘Hey you, fancy some sex?’ My own smile mirrors his.

  ‘Yes, please. Can I order off menu? I had no idea it was part of the service here. Just think what I’ve been missing these past weeks.’

  I swat him on the arm and he pulls me down onto his lap. Our lips meet for a tentative, searching, increasingly passionate kiss. Humour recedes and need, hunger and roaring desire surge up inside me, blasting through my flimsy ‘safety’ barriers and leaving me achingly vulnerable. I’ve never felt this passionately attracted to someone before and it’s, well … scary. That he can have this much power over my body leaves me at his mercy.

  Need pushes even these fears away. Cal kisses me back with an intensity that matches my own. Maybe he needs me, needs this as much as I do.

  Please let him need me too. Soon our hands are exploring, up beneath T-shirts. I stroke Cal’s chest, feeling his rapid pulsing heartbeat beneath my fingertips. Cal cups one of my breasts through my lacy bra and my nipple hardens instantly. His other hand slides beneath my bottom, squeezing in a way that leaves me wet between my legs.

  I move, swinging one of my legs over to straddle him, the soft fabric of my skirt riding up so that I can press down on his growing erection.

  ‘I want you,’ I whisper in his ear.

  He slips a hand up beneath my skirt and inside my knickers, his fingers slipping easily inside my wet folds.

  ‘So you do.’ He smiles wolfishly. ‘Now there’s a coincidence, I happen to want you too.’

  I rub his erection through his jeans, and he groans, standing up, carrying me to the edge of the desk we had moved into his room so he could work. He then manoeuvres me round so he’s behind me, hands running down over my breasts, lifting my T-shirt up over my head and unhooking my bra so he can touch me more freely.

  His erection presses into my bottom.

  He manoeuvres me so I’m bent over the desk and flips my skirt up around my waist. My bare breasts are pressed against the desk and my face too, on one side. Cal makes me wait, teasing me through my knickers before pulling them down.

  His thighs edge my knees apart as his fingers work their usual magic, caressing my clit before dipping inside to massage my G-spot. Then he caresses both spots at once and the resulting wave of pleasure leaves me gasping.

  ‘You are so good at that, I swear you have magic fingers.’

  ‘So you only want my fingers … You don’t want this?’ He rubs just the head of his cock up and down my wet slit, making me moan.

  ‘Yes, I do, please,’ I beg. ‘I want you inside me.’

  ‘Okay then, if you insist.’ He enters me in one long thrust. The angle is satisfyingly deep and he’s rubbing in all the right places. The pulsing pleasure feels primal, visceral and urgent. I need him as much as he needs me.

  It’s like he’s set me free to enjoy sex again. No need for internal angsting or overthinking absolutely everything. It’s good to experience sex without the angst again.

  ‘Later I’m going to take it long and slow. My mouth is going to explore every inch of your body. I’m going to make love to you and savour every minute. But right now you’ve got me so turned on it’s going to be a hard, fast fuck, okay?’ Cal’s voice as he leans over me is ragged and slightly breathless. His lips tickle my neck as he speaks and I shiver, whether from the words or the nerve endings he’s touching I don’t know.

  ‘Okay,’ I gasp as he pulls almost all the way out and then slams into me. He wasn’t kidding about the fast, hard fuck but then I might have admitted to him I liked it this way.

  I think I love it this way. The emotional, intimate sex we had was so powerful that I’ve been feeling a little raw, emotionally speaking. This hard fuck is the perfect antidote for that. Okay, it might leave me a little raw in … other ways but I actually kind of like that too … I like to feel where Cal has fucked me.

  I like this feeling, of every inch of him filling every inch of me. Of being explored and possessed in this raw, physical way. Of giving myself to him.

  I feel exposed and to some extent vulnerable but only in the hands of a man who by his own admission is turned on by giving me pleasure.

  I like being able to own my sexuality again.

  When I climax I come so hard it’s just as well the desk is there to muffle my cries. He comes inside
me almost immediately, while I’m still clenching and convulsing around him in the aftershock of possibly the most powerful orgasm I’ve ever experienced. I relish the weight of his body on top of me and the primal satisfaction of a man coming inside me. I’ve always found it a good feeling but with Cal it’s so much more.

  When he pulls me into his arms on his bed I feel as close to satisfied as I’ve ever felt. Not sated exactly because I’m not sure I could ever get enough of Cal, but more joyful, peaceful and positive than I can ever remember feeling. I know it’s partly a hormonal euphoric high but I’m sure this is more than that.

  There’s no way I can kid myself that this is a meaningless fling to get me back in the game, a tentative test to see if I can engage with the real world again.

  I’ve had plenty of ‘just sex’ and there is no ‘just’ about sex with Cal. There’s a strong sense that I’m in the right place. That here in Cal’s arms is the best place in the world to be. Dangerous, powerful emotions. I wasn’t supposed to fall in love. This was supposed to be a pleasant connection, some satisfying sex, something to make me feel alive again but … well, nothing heavy.

  I’ve lost control of the situation fast. I’m worried the ‘L’ word will escape my lips. It’s far too soon. I’ll have to make sure I don’t blurt it out but it’s true. I do.

  I love him, I love him, I love Cal and I can’t undo it. I hold him close and for the first time in years I pray, to God, to the Universe, to anyone listening, that this doesn’t end badly.

  Disgraced former Sex in the Suburbs star Joanna Grant has been spotted with celebrity chef Callum O’Connor in the South of France, in the tourist city of Carcassonne. According to onlookers the couple were walking hand in hand and were definitely behaving like an item. At one point they stopped for a passionate kiss (see photo above).

  So it seems Joanna’s assertion she was leaving the celebrity life behind forever has turned out to be a little short lived. Is this her way of making a comeback? Or perhaps the real question we should be asking is whether she’s using Callum O’Connor or he’s using her. Rumour has it Callum recently signed a book deal so the publicity sure isn’t going to hurt him.

  When asked for a comment Joanna’s ex-co-star and ex-boyfriend Aiden said ‘I’m glad to hear Joanna’s finally moved on. I’ve always felt bad that she didn’t want to stay friends.’

  I feel sick when I scan the webpage Poppy’s friend Michelle sent her. Is this Aiden and Sally’s doing? Or someone from the show, leaking a story to remind the world who I am so they remember when the main story comes out about my tearful ‘reunion’ with Aiden and Sally in a few weeks?

  To add insult to injury it’s a really crappy photo of me. My hair looks like I’ve been pulled through a hedge backwards because Cal likes playing with my hair. Really likes playing with my hair, which is fine – I mean I love him playing with my hair – but it does make me look a little … deranged.

  Cal looks gorgeous, of course. I remember how charming he was that day. He has a book deal? Seriously? I don’t get why he wouldn’t tell me about it if he wasn’t hiding something. I remember him always closing his laptop around me. Is he being courteous or is it something more?

  A nasty whispering fear suggests I’ve been spectacularly stupid again. I’ve been crazy enough to trust someone after all that happened with Aiden and I’m being punished for my naïveté. Really? I just can’t believe all that stuff about me having nothing to be ashamed of any more was part of Cal’s seduction strategy. Just so he can tell everyone he slept with the girl from the sex tape and sell some books off the back of it …

  No. My head says it’s simply not true. My heart agrees. It just can’t be. Cal is not like that. I have a bond with him, I trust him. I know the kind of man he is and he isn’t an Aiden.

  He’s still just a man though, flawed and complex like we all are. No one is either all good or all bad. Perhaps I’ve built him up into this wonderful fantasy man who doesn’t actually exist except in my head.

  The tiny, anxious niggle is rapidly turning into a rolling snowball of a panic attack, increasing momentum with every racing, fearful thought.

  I fight to control my breath and push through the clamour of swirling, noisy emotions. The ticker-tape of doom is scrolling endlessly in my head again – breaking news: celebrity seeks publicity … disgraced sex tape celebrity has messy hair …

  So. Not really breaking news then.

  Sex with Cal means something more than just a physical connection, I’m sure of it.

  Almost sure.

  I seem to have lost non-angsty, definitely-not-overthinking JoJo and backslid, badly.

  With Cal it meant something. Why am I listening to the crazy woman in my head? It still means something. Why should an online article get to decide my relationship status? There’s no call to be thinking in the past tense. I hug myself, feeling cold, despite the building heat of the day.

  What am I going to do if Aiden and Sally try to orchestrate something and send reporters to ambush me? What if he held back extra video footage, another sex tape, for just such an opportunity?

  My stomach lurches and I think I might actually be sick.

  Part of me wants to take Flump and run and hide again, find a hole somewhere to crawl into and shut the world out so no one can hurt me again.

  I don’t want to leave the life I’ve started for myself here in St Quentin. I’m happy here with Poppy and Leo and the other dogs. I’m happy here with Cal, for however long he’s here. Not to mention I can’t leave before Poppy’s wedding: I’m virtually organising the whole thing for her now. I can’t possibly leave her in the lurch.

  I was just starting to feel like myself again – like it might be safe to be that girl again. Safe to reach out and touch someone. Safe to shine.

  It still might be. A small voice of hope whispers and I hug myself closer, as though my flesh and blood arms can protect me from the world and all its hurt.

  Cal at least deserves the chance to see the article and react. The book deal might be nothing, his non-disclosure easy to explain. I should know that more than most, how many facts are faction or even pure fiction.

  He’ll probably laugh it off, perhaps even make a joke about my hair. Or maybe he’ll believe the ludicrous claim that I am ‘using him’ to reclaim lost fame, like the piece online says. Maybe he’s already seen it.

  I quicken my pace from the house to the barn, wanting to be wrong, hoping we aren’t about to have our first fight.

  Chapter 10

  ‘Life is 10 per cent what happens to you and 90 per cent how you react to it’

  Charles R. Swindoll

  I should wait to talk to Cal until I’ve calmed down, but I can’t. The anxiety is so insistent. The niggles of doubt, urging caution in our relationship, were like flies buzzing against the fly screen. Now the fly screen is broken and I’m being attacked by a swarm.

  I have to know the truth, have to confront him. I push damp strands of hair off my forehead. It’s too hot to be rushing like this. The air is humid, the atmosphere fittingly heavy with that pre-storm feel we only seem to get in summer. The night will end in torrential rain and dramatic lightning. Poor Barney will be terrified, shaking with fear. Large as he is, he’ll find a lap to jump on, a storm being the only time he tries to do that.

  I’ve come to love this place, these people and the animals. I thought Cal’s arrival would threaten all of that. Maybe I was right after all?

  I find him down at the barn. He isn’t alone. He’s supervising the commercial cooker installation, making sure everything has arrived that’s supposed to have and Leo is there too. He’s chatting to Cal when I approach but he must read my face correctly because he backs off to give us some space.

  ‘What’s up?’ Cal smiles his usual warm smile and it’s hard to stop my own mouth responding and mirroring him. ‘JoJo?’

  I realise I’m breathing really hard and try to calm it, to bring myself down. My arms are still wrapped tightly a
round my body. Like they offer any protection from an emotional onslaught. My whole body is rigid with tension, my jaw so tight it hurts. I open my mouth to speak but nothing comes out. Literally nothing.

  Angry with myself I get my phone out and click the link to the online article again. I can’t help glancing at that photo again. God, that hair, I really do look deranged.

  I hand the phone over to Cal, not able to meet his enquiring gaze.

  ‘Fuck,’ Cal curses and takes hold of my arm, steering me out of the barn.

  Once we’re out of earshot and standing in the shade of a tree he turns me to face him.

  ‘Talk to me, JoJo,’ he says. ‘Tell me what you’re thinking.’

  ‘I really thought you liked me. You must’ve thought I was so stupid.’ To my horror the last words I want to say aloud are out there, exposing my naked vulnerability. To make things worse, tears roll down my cheeks and I’m stifling a sob. Yes, I really should’ve waited to confront him.

  ‘Stop that. Stop that right now.’ Cal’s tone is authoritative and his grip on my arms firm, not hurting me, not restraining me even; it’s more like he’s holding me up, keeping me from falling apart.

  My body obeys him unquestioningly and some of the tension seeps out of my taut muscles. I look up and meet the piercing blue eyes I know so well. Inside I’m at war between the part of me that fears I’ve been duped and the part that trusts him implicitly because … well, just because; it’s intuition, I suppose, my gut instinct. My breathing slows as our gazes lock and I feel connected to him again.

  ‘I do like you, JoJo. I like you very much. How could you ever think otherwise just because of an online article? How many of those articles ever told the truth about you?’ Cal’s tone is incredulous.

  I’m starting to feel vaguely ridiculous for overreacting. He’s right. I should know more than anyone just how the press works and how facts never get in the way of a good story, especially a celebrity gossip story.

  ‘I’m sorry, Cal,’ I whisper and rest my head against his chest, inhaling his delicious familiar scent and reassured by his physical strength. I really must have it bad because even the scent of his sweat turns me on.