Lucy was out of the door before she’d finished her sentence.
ZIP ME UP BEFORE YOU GO GO!
Lucy pushed the elevator button. She pushed it again. Hurry up and get me out of here, she thought as her face burned and her hands shook. She had never been so shocked or embarrassed.
‘Lucy. Lucy!’ Shit, too late. Kirk was breathless and running down the corridor. ‘Wait, please, I can explain.’
I doubt that very much, Lucy thought, though her mouth was too dry to form any kind of response. The only slightly feasible explanation might be that he was actually filming a scene for his new movie, which was of the soft-porn genre.
She turned to face Kirk. He looked as mortified as she did.
A man appeared behind him.
His manager, Jed, who had a smaller suite beside Kirk’s, had heard his door slam, followed by his star client’s raised voice.
Kirk turned to Jed, his expression changing from apologetic to furious.
‘Jed, did you not tell Lucy to meet me an hour later at the bar downstairs?’
‘No.’
Kirk looked like he was going to hit his manager.
‘Why the fuck not?’
‘Because you told me not to. You said you’d rather text her yourself.’
Lucy had spoken to Jed a few hours ago. He had called to ask if she would like to join Kirk at seven in his suite for a glass of champagne before they headed out for dinner. Then they would go on to the party where Carlos would join them. Lucy could remember Jed explaining clearly that the reception had her name and would give her a room key. The suite was so large and what with Kirk’s love of rock music at full blast, it was best she let herself in.
‘Fuck. I thought you said you’d do it.’ Kirk’s head was bowed, his shoulders stooped.
‘No. You were insistent on calling Lucy yourself.’
Jed looked at Lucy, as if noticing she was there for the first time, and smiled painfully and remorsefully at her.
He lowered his voice, in an attempt to shield Lucy from what he was saying. ‘You said you wanted to look like a normal guy and text yourself,’ Jed said through gritted teeth.
‘Fuck,’ Kirk repeated. Now he remembered. He’d asked Jed to get him a girl for some quick relief and that he’d call Lucy and ask to meet an hour later. But as soon as the conversation was finished, the second part of the plan was out of his head. Kirk’s manager sorted everything for him – girls, clubs, clothes, you name it. Shit, he should have remembered to call Lucy. He was just so excited at the thought of the girl Jed had promised him.
The fact the girl had sneaked off to the toilet when Lucy came in, like she was the one who should be ashamed; the fact she looked like a thousand other girls with bad roots and long blonde hair – these were all give-aways that she was a hooker. Standing there in a pastel-pink wool wrap over a black-velvet dress, the material tight over her long thighs, Lucy looked breathtaking, as full of grace as Carli wasn’t.
‘Lucy, I’m so sorry you had to see that.’
Lucy had no desire to argue back. She wasn’t angry, just bewildered. She could hardly make a scene as the wronged girlfriend. This was supposed to be their first date, or perhaps the second if the Met Bar counted.
If it hadn’t been for the scene of genuine confusion that had just played out between him and Jed, Lucy might have assumed this was a weird sex game where Kirk liked to have his date walk in on him with someone else.
‘Listen, Kirk,’ Lucy congratulated herself inwardly for finding a voice, ‘I don’t know what to say.’
‘I can explain.’
‘You can?’ Lucy was looking forward to this one.
Kirk looked at his manager, as if for inspiration, then back at Lucy. What would he explain? That he was horny and decided to pay for a hooker to satisfy him so that he could behave well with Lucy? Because she was the kind of woman he wanted to be with and not just for sex. Hell, he was Kirk Kelner and had anything he wanted on speed dial. Somehow he didn’t think the truth would go down too well.
Then again, in the absence of any other bright ideas, what did he have to lose?
‘Will you join me for a drink downstairs, Lucy? Please. We’ll have a chat and then if you want to go home, I will understand.’
Lucy considered her options. Kirk looked a little pathetic, no matter how devastatingly handsome and famous, standing there in the corridor pleading with her. Perhaps having a drink would make him feel better. She certainly needed one.
‘OK, but I deserve the finest champagne after that little scene.’
Kirk smiled ruefully. ‘Make it a magnum.’
LUCY SEES THE FUNNY SIDE
Lucy couldn’t help but see the comedy in the situation.
She had just listened to Kirk’s explanation of what had happened. Somehow, she didn’t feel as awkward as she was sure she should. It was like listening to a friend tell a funny story about someone else.
While pouring Cristal into her flute, the two of them in a cosy booth beside the main bar, he had explained how much he liked her. And that’s why he had asked Carli to come round. He avoided the subject of whether Carli was paid help, though Lucy was sure she was.
‘The thing is,’ he told her, looking in her eyes, ‘it kind of shows how much I think of you. I wanted to respect your wishes and take things slowly. I guess I just thought this would be some kind of release.’
Lucy covered her mouth with her hand, stifling a laugh. She couldn’t help it. Little did he know she had made up her mind to sleep with him. As Carlos had said, sleeping with Kirk Kelner was unlikely to turn into something she’d regret.
‘Quite right. Kirk, I’m terribly flattered by the whole thing.’
Kirk seemed to grasp how ridiculous what he had said was – that getting a blow job from someone else was somehow a show of affection, like lighting candles round a bath or scattering petals on a bed.
He concentrated on Lucy again, determined to win her over.
‘But I’d love to be faithful, and I can be. I know I can.’
Kirk could smell her hair, all fresh and fruity. She had crossed her long legs, so sexy in black patent heels and sheer stockings. Maybe they were tights. He hoped they were stockings.
Lucy was keen to take the sting of humiliation out of the situation.
‘I’m sure you can be faithful,’ she said, putting her hand on top of his. ‘But listen, maybe we both need a little time. I’m just out of a relationship and you are going through a divorce.’
Kirk nodded, unsure.
‘Maybe it’s a good thing you’re having a bit of fun – getting it out of your system.’
Lucy hoped she was being convincing. What she actually thought was that there was no way on earth she could so much as kiss him on the lips with the image of that blonde bobbing up and down between his legs.
But she had to admit she almost saw the logic of his argument about why he’d done it. He was Kirk Kelner, after all. Everything was on tap. And she believed him when he said he wanted to act properly with her. It was almost flattering – in a severely twisted kind of way. She couldn’t wait to tell Max.
Kirk had taken her hand in both of his. ‘But Lucy, I could be faithful to you. I would be. You’re different.’
Lucy breathed in. Here she was turning Kirk Kelner down. If anyone had told her this was how the night would play out an hour ago, she would have laughed. Every woman she knew lusted after him. He was the screen saver on computers around the world; he was the man most voted as the one you’d cheat on your husband with. He was gorgeous, perfect. But now he was seedy. Lucy had caught him tonight by fluke, but how many other times had he done things which made that scene look tame in comparison?
That aside, she was still in love with Hartley, no matter how painful that was to admit.
She sighed. ‘I need some time.’
Kirk looked at her with his big blue eyes. She didn’t think he was acting, though that’s what he did so well for a living. ‘I’ve blo
wn it, haven’t I?’
Lucy couldn’t help but be touched. This wasn’t acting. It was a man who knew he couldn’t help himself. Even if he wanted to have a loving, monogamous relationship, Lucy wasn’t sure he would be able to refuse temptation all the time.
‘No, these things happen.’ She laughed. ‘Well, not normally to me. I just think we’ve both got a lot going on right now.’
Kirk smiled thinly. He had blown it; he knew he had.
‘But Kirk?’
‘Yeah?’
‘I like you. You’re a great guy.’
Kirk looked happier. One day, she thought, when I’ve wiped the image from my mind, I could forget where he’d been long enough to kiss him. It could be a long time coming.
‘You still want to go to the party with me?’ Kirk asked hopefully.
‘You bet,’ Lucy said firmly. After all, she could hardly let Carlos down.
LUCY SEES CLEARLY NOW THE PAIN HAS GONE
Lucy squeezed Carlos’s arm.
‘Can you believe we’re here?’ she asked him.
‘It’s amazing, Luce. You are, officially, my favourite friend.’
Kirk had explained that his lawyer, Al, who ran a huge practice specializing in representing celebrities on both coasts – New York and Los Angeles – as well as London, held an annual party for clients and their guests. A thank you for all the money they’d spent. What with the number of libel cases against newspapers, magazines, film companies, not to mention their speciality of representing multimillionaire clients in their divorce cases, that amount of cash was not inconsiderable. Normally, Al threw the bash in LA but had decided on London this year. Many of his American-based clients had flown over for it. Kirk had told Lucy that some stars had been known to dump their attorney in favour of Al’s firm after hearing about the ridiculously extravagant parties. That and the fact Al and his two partners were known for their balls of steel in court.
Al had hired Home House, the exclusive London members’ club, for the night. It was a huge venue over several floors. Lucy and Carlos had been there before – on shoots or for parties, but tonight it was hardly recognizable. Each floor was themed. Everything on the first floor was purple. From the body paint on the near-naked waitresses serving canapés, to the silk sheets draped on the walls. A four-piece jazz band played in purple suits, their music soothing and mellow. Lilac bubbles floated around the room, making it seem other-worldly – like the guests had floated to heaven for a party.
On the second floor, where Lucy was standing with Carlos, the theme was orange. There was a huge glass tank of orange balls in a corner, like the ones you used to dive in as a kid. The room was fragranced with orange blossom and cocktails were clear with twists of orange peel. Waiters with amazing torsos wore shorts like Baywatch lifeguards, with orange Santa hats on their head to get into the spirit of Christmas, now just days away.
‘This is awesome,’ Lucy whispered to Carlos. She was used to extravagant parties but this really was something else. She kept spotting new intricate details. She must remember to find out who the party planner was. Maybe she could hire them for a big shoot.
Lucy waited until Kirk had excused himself to her and gone off with Al, to be introduced to a few guests. Al’s decision to hold a pre-Christmas bash in London was in no small part down to Kirk. He was set to spend a fortune with Al’s firm in a very high-profile divorce case and Al was keen to let him know how much he valued his custom. As Kirk had based himself in London for the last few months, what better way to demonstrate his generosity than bringing the party to him? It also did wonders for his relations with employees at his London branch – a relatively new office with a small staff. Slowly they were starting to take big clients from established rival English firms.
‘You are never going to believe what just happened.’ Lucy was leaning into Carlos’s ear, her voice dripping with dramatic urgency.
It was all the encouragement Carlos needed. His eyes wide, he half whispered and half hissed back: ‘Tell me, tell me. Have you already had sex in his hotel room? Is that why he asked you to meet him there? Did he fling you on the bed and make wild passionate love? Tell me he did.’
Lucy controlled her fit of giggles by taking a deep breath, then placed her hand on her chest as though vowing what she was about to tell him was true.
‘I walked in on him sitting on a chair facing me with his trousers round his ankles, his legs apart, getting a blow job from a girl. I think she was an escort.’
‘Nooooo,’ he half shouted.
Lucy put her finger to her lips: ‘Shhh.’
‘Fuck. Me. Hard. That is insane.’
Lucy was laughing so hard, she was almost crying. She couldn’t find the breath to explain any more to Carlos. Spotting an empty orange sofa he moved over to it and tugged on Lucy’s arm so she followed. She looked fabulous. Carlos could never imagine her having anything other than the curvaceously perfect frame that made her look good enough to eat no matter what she wore, even if all the office girls were obsessed with being stick thin. Lucy was tall and elegant and that little Chanel black dress was divine, showing a hint of cleavage with a hem just above her knees. Perfectly refined and yet so sexy. She had gone for the classic Chanel look, with bold red lipstick and pearls.
Carlos clapped his hands and ooohed and aaahed through Lucy’s tale of what had happened. This beat any story on Popbitch or Holy Moly.
Kirk had been gone for at least twenty minutes. Lucy didn’t mind one bit. She loved telling Carlos everything and had to admit it was hilarious. When he’d got every last detail out of her – doing so in a huge rush in case Kirk came back – he settled contentedly back on the sofa and took in the hot waiters surrounding him.
‘Ah, heaven,’ he sighed.
‘You’re taken. Raymondo, remember?’
‘No harm in window-shopping, sweets,’ he told her sternly.
As always, Carlos looked remarkably dapper. A chocolate-brown Prada suit was set off perfectly against a lemon shirt and fashionably thin brown tie.
She had settled into a comfortable silence with her friend, sipping their Cointreau cocktails and soaking up the scene of decadence around them. The female guests looked so spangly and festive – women always made a special effort when Christmas was approaching. Lucy spotted the new Dior party gown, skimming the floor in rose-petal silk, before realizing its owner was none other than supermodel Agyness Deyn, who had fronted recent campaigns for Armani and Burberry.
The music mogul Simon Fuller, who had discovered the Spice Girls, was chatting in a corner to Emma Bunton, who was keeping it real in a glittery, girly, gold prom-style dress from Monsoon, with the new and not-so-affordable Jimmy Choo gold wedges.
And there was Simon Cowell, pretty short in the flesh with surprisingly broad, square-ish shoulders.
Lucy spotted Kirk, who had dressed down in navy Armani jeans, brown lace-up shoes and a black-lambswool V-necked jumper. Perhaps he had intended to put on a suit before Lucy had caught him unawares. He’d left his room to chase her straight away, after all. She found the sight of him rather surreal. Here he was, looking every inch as gorgeous as he did on the billboards and magazine covers – his tousled dark blond hair, that flawless lightly bronzed skin, all-American smile and perfect body. And she was his date. But was she? The body language of every woman in the room screamed they wanted him – they stood with their feet pointing slightly in his direction, their heads thrown back to laugh in an attempt to look like they were the life and soul of the party while desperately trying to catch his eye. The truth was that Kirk Kelner was everyone’s date at a party. Women would replay the smouldering look he gave them – imagined or not – for months or years to come. And there was no getting away from it: Kirk loved the attention.
She was aware he kept looking over at her, checking she was OK. Of course she was flattered. But really, how could she ever date this guy? Many a woman would put up with anything to date him, but Lucy had met him just twice and already knew h
e paid for blow jobs. Hardly a way to kick off a honeymoon period for any relationship.
Lucy remembered something Marj had told her: you should never judge your success by your pay packet. The same could be applied to partners. It was wrong to somehow think yourself important or special because of the guy on your arm.
As much as she enjoyed his company – not to mention the admitted ego boost of Kirk Kelner pursuing her – she could imagine life would be far from easy with him. No guy looked that hot without dedicating a huge part of his waking hours to his image. Having your boyfriend spend more time in front of the mirror and in beauty spas than most high-maintenance women wasn’t the sexiest thought in the world, but then it was in his job description to look the best he possibly could. There was something else that bothered Lucy. It wasn’t the attention he got from girls; it was the fact that he clearly wasn’t ready to give that up. He thrived on it, like a drug. She couldn’t help but find that deeply unattractive, in spite of his heavenly looks.
Lucy had no doubt he had told her the truth when he said he desperately wanted to settle down and that he could be faithful. Whether or not he’d admit it, though, a bigger part of him wasn’t ready.
Lucy sighed. ‘Tell me, Carlos, could you ever be with a man you’d seen getting a blow job from a prostitute?’
Carlos mulled the question over in his head, as if considering whether Burberry had outshone Prada at London Fashion Week.
‘No. But in the case of that little stud muffin,’ he said, nodding his head in Kirk’s direction, ‘I might have to make an exception.’
‘Well, I don’t think I can,’ she told him quietly, soaking in every inch of Kirk Kelner – the man she would never sleep with. She couldn’t, not now.
She smiled brightly as Kirk approached, apologizing profusely for taking so long.
‘Al insisted I meet everyone. I’m so sorry,’ he said, addressing Lucy and Carlos. She couldn’t fault his manners.
‘Not at all, Kirk,’ Lucy said, standing up from the sofa she’d been sharing with Carlos, who immediately headed for a tray full of cocktails held by a near-naked waiter.
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