by Lulu Pratt
I’d been to plenty of these resorts before – ones in Majorca, Ibiza, Morocco, so on and so forth. Eventually, the thrill wore off, and you realized that nobody came to such hotels to actually vacation and enjoy themselves, but to see and be seen. It was just like New York, but with more sand in your ass crack.
But besides my usual distaste for such locales, I was also preoccupied with thoughts of Poppy, a preoccupation which was fast becoming my norm.
What’s she doing right now? I wondered as I wiped down my lens. Is she thinking of me too?
Every time I shot one of the models, I imagined I was shooting Poppy. I thirsted for the curve of her hips and the rise and fall of her breasts, and the quickness of her wit. Why was I stuck here, shooting one damn bikini after another, when there was a beautiful woman waiting in my villa? I felt, frankly, like a fool.
And I still felt like an ass for how I’d gone about uninviting her this morning. That’s not to say I wasn’t right – it was for the best that she gave Chrissy a wide berth. Both of our jobs depended on it, and Poppy was likely skating on thinner ice than even I, given that she was fresh meat at BeYou.
But I’d made it seem, I thought, like perhaps I was more interested in spending time with that bitch than with Poppy. Or at least like I didn’t want my behavior around Chrissy to be noted. Either way, I had a sinking suspicion that I’d fucked up, and badly.
It was made all the worse by the fact that I really did wish Poppy was at the hotel, that we could roam the grounds together, drink mai-tais and gaze into each other’s eyes. Man, I’ve become a sop. ‘Spose it’s been a long time since I was romantically inclined to anyone. The feeling set me right back on my heels. Was it possible to spend every minute of the day with someone, and still want to be around them more?
Oh well, there’s nothing to be done about it now, I told myself, vis-à-vis Poppy being at the hotel. It didn’t make me feel any better, but at least I tried, right?
I was busy photographing Bebe in a monokini under a mini waterfall when Chrissy, sitting idly on a nearby lounge chair, called out:
“Finn, come here.”
It was an order, not a request. I told Bebe to take five, and dragged my feet as I walked up to Chrissy. I felt like a dunce, but I needed my job, which at the moment, she held in her claws.
“Yes?” I asked, stopping a full two feet away from the end of her chair.
She pulled her sunglasses down the bridge of her nose. “Aren’t you glad we’re spending the day together, just a little one-on-one time? No more of that stupid, chubby bitch?”
My nostrils flared, and I thought about decking her right then and there, but I had to hold my temper.
“It’s fine,” I replied – it was the most tepid answer I could compose.
Chrissy rolled her eyes, and her long legs stretched out as she stood up from the chair.
“Untie my bikini top,” she ordered, turning her back around to face me.
Jesus, she was truly on one today. “We’re in public,” I reminded her.
She shrugged, and her slender shoulder blades rose and fell. “It’s an island, there are different rules. Untie it. Or do you want me to place a certain call?”
I gulped. She had me in a corner, and she knew it. I reached one hand forward and, with disgust, pulled the knot at her neck, and the one across her mid-back, until both came loose and the top slipped off. I immediately stepped back, away from her.
Chrissy pivoted back around to face me, her breasts now freely bouncing. I looked sidelong to my left, avoiding eye contact with her tits. I didn’t want her to think for even a split second that I liked what was happening, that I had even the smallest interest in her bullshit.
She took a step closer to me.
“They’re real,” she said, squeezing one of her boobs. “Feel them.”
“No thank you,” I spat through clenched teeth. She was pushing me closer and closer to the edge, and she was getting a fucking thrill out of it.
She took another step, and our faces were inches from one another.
“Kiss me,” she demanded.
I tore my eyes from the ground, and met her gaze. Could she feel the fury from my pupils burning into her own? She had a sick smile on her face, and I wished I could smack it off.
“I’m not going to kiss you,” I managed to reply.
She flipped her hair back. “Fine, then I’ll do it myself.”
And before I could stop her, Chrissy’s lips were on mine.
I went cold inside, my entire system shutting down. I left my body, trying desperately to escape from this moment. But the more I tried to evacuate, emotionally, the more I was physically bound the earth.
At last, after several seconds of me not reciprocating her kiss, Chrissy pulled away with a huff.
“You’re no fun,” she said in a petulant tone before flopping back onto her lounge chair. “Go shoot some fucking photos or whatever, and come back when you’re the old Finn.”
I nearly tripped over myself sprinting away from her chair. I rounded one corner, then another, until I found a shady grove of palms, and without warning, vomited at the base of a tree.
Wiping my mouth and standing up, I began to put words to what had just happened:
I was sexually harassed, I told myself slowly. That was wrong. It was absolutely, totally wrong.
I’d given her every signal in the book that I didn’t want to kiss her, but Chrissy had forced herself on me. My body shook with rage and fear. How had this happened?
And then, I felt another sick thud in my stomach as I had the most terrible realization – that no one would believe me.
Chrissy was one of the world’s biggest supermodels, someone who any straight man would’ve killed to bed. If I told a single soul that she’d harassed me, that she’d used her power over my job to intimidate me… well. Who was gonna buy that?
God. I was trapped.
There was nothing to do but get back to work, and hope that I forgot this. Repress, repress, repress, I thought fiercely. Don’t think about it.
Easier said than done. For the remainder of the afternoon, my thoughts flitted between Poppy and Chrissy, between good and evil. The digitals from the day came out fine, but I knew that they were a far cry from my best work. Whatever. Maybe that’ll be enough to get me fired. At least then I wouldn’t have to make the hard choice to leave on my own, but I’d still escape from Chrissy’s influence. Sure, I’d be out of work, but I’d be free.
While I was in the car on the way home, I texted Poppy:
Hard day. See you soon.
She immediately replied:
Come to the bedroom when you’re home :)
I smiled a little at her old-fashioned smiley face – no emojis for that girl. I tilted my head against the headrest, closing my eyes.
Soon enough, we were back at the villa, and I was pushing past the models – giving Chrissy an extra shove – to race up the stairs and into my or rather, our room.
Poppy was lying on the bed, draped in a bright pink nightie that had marabou feathers on the tits. The rest of it was absolutely sheer, and she was wearing no panties.
“Hey,” she giggled from the bed, her girlish nerves betraying her womanly curves. “Welcome back.”
I grinned. “I missed you.”
She sat up on her forearm, causing her waist to dip further in and her hips to flare higher up.
“I missed you too,” she replied. “And I’m sorry you had a bad day. I thought maybe I could… make it better.”
“With the nightie?” I asked. “Well, you have. You definitely have.”
That was true – I would’ve been plenty happy to just sit there and watch her flounce about in that little number.
She shook her head, and said with a trace of embarrassment, “I got kinda bored, today, after I finished my work, so I started doing some research and…”
“And what?” Where was this going?
“And I think I’d like to give you a blowjo
b.”
My pulse clicked up from fast to dangerous. She wanted to do what?
“Poppy,” I said, swallowing the lump in my throat. “You don’t have to–”
“I know,” she replied easily. “If you don’t want to, that’s okay–”
“I want to.” The words erupted out of me so eagerly that I sounded like a squeaking schoolboy, discovering online porn for the first time.
She smiled wide, and patted the area next to her on the bed. “Come lie down. Oh, but first… take those off.”
She gestured to my pants, and I obliged, whipping them and my shirt off and leaping into bed, splaying out on my back next to her.
“Will you tell me if I’m doing something wrong?” she asked, obviously nervous.
“Of course,” I reassured her. “But you’re not going to. Any way you touch me makes me feel good.”
She bit her lip and nodded. Then she swept her hair back over her shoulders and rolled over on the bed until she was pressed up against me, taking my lips between hers.
We kissed for several minutes, and I became rock hard, the light feathers of her bodice rippling against my bare chest. She felt my needy cock digging into her hip, and announced:
“Feels like you’re ready.”
I laughed, “Somebody’s getting awful naughty.”
She winked. “Well, Finn, I’ve learned from the best.”
My laugh redoubled at that, and I was so distracted that I didn’t even realize she was inching down the bed, closer and closer to my dick, until I felt her breath hovering above me.
I turned onto my back, and Poppy climbed on top of my thighs, her face dangling just inches from my dick.
“Here goes nothing,” she giggled, her voice frayed with nerves. Then, without further ado, her tongue fell on the tip of my cock, and I moaned. Why was it that her every touch turned me to jelly? I’d had legions of blowjobs, but none made me feel like this, especially not after just a single lick.
I collapsed back on the pillows, and let Poppy have her way with me.
Chapter 22
POPPY
FINN’S COCK was long, hard, and intimidating. And I was loving every minute of it.
After talking with April, I’d decided to stop worrying and to live in the present. The present, for me, meant trying all the things I’d prohibited myself from doing over the years, including blowjobs. While I wasn’t certain about my and Finn’s future, I knew that if there was anybody to try new stuff with, it was him. Besides, his moans turned my tummy in the best way possible.
Practicing what I’d learned from various instructional videos, I locked my lips around his tip, and suctioned in my cheeks so that they touched the sides of his dick. From my vantage around his thighs, I glanced up at Finn’s face to see if I was doing it right, and was pleased to find that he was totally incapacitated with ecstasy, his lips spread wide and his eyes squeezed tight.
With that encouragement, I began – careful not to expose my teeth – to move up and down his cock. I knew I was doing a rudimentary job, but Finn didn’t seem to care. He was groaning and panting with zeal.
The internet said to ‘play with his balls,’ so I reached a free hand down to squeeze his testicles. Finn nearly bolted straight up from the bed.
I pulled back and asked, “Did I do something wrong?” I was afraid I’d hurt him.
He just about screamed his response. “No, no, it was perfect, don’t stop.”
Look at you, Poppy, my brain said approvingly. Not bad.
I clamped my lips back around his dick, even more eager than before. My head began to bob again, but I didn’t worry about getting a cramp, or throwing my neck out. His pleasure came first, just as mine had the other night.
Thinking that I wanted to level up the blowjob, I wrapped my hand around his wet cock, and began to stroke in time with my mouth movements. This was kind of a ‘level two’ thing, but I was so excited, so, honestly, turned on, by his responses that it made me wanna try a whole slew of new techniques. Though, that sentence implies I had any techniques before, which I most certainly did not.
The websites had warned that it might take a grown man a while to orgasm from getting head, especially if he was pretty sexually active. Not that Finn and I had discussed his history at length, but I knew he’d been around the block – heck, he’d been around the whole neighborhood.
So I was fairly surprised when, after just a few minutes, I heard him groan, “I’m gonna come.”
I smiled around his cock, and looked up at him, my thick false lashes outlining my blue eyes. Were these the ‘BJ eyes’ girls had always talked about in school? They must’ve been, because Finn’s dick leapt in my mouth when his eyes met mine.
“Can I come in your mouth?” he asked, in between pants. “If not, you better move, because I’m going to explode.”
I responded by bobbing harder on his cock, as if to say, Come wherever you dang please.
Finn groaned a deep, primal groan, and his hips quivered beneath my hands. Without further ado, his dick shot further into my throat.
I felt slick ropes in the back of my larynx, and as he pulled out, excess cum dripped onto my tongue. He tasted salty, and much to my surprise, rather delicious.
While Finn lay on the bed, wiped out, I swallowed his cum.
He raised an eyebrow. “Did you just swallow?” he asked incredulously.
My cheeks turned red, and I replied, “Was I not supposed to?”
He opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again to say, “No it’s… it’s super sexy. Most girls don’t. Because apparently, it doesn’t taste great.”
“Well, I think you’re yummy,” I replied honestly.
Finn smirked and pulled me up to him, maneuvering my body with just one arm. He was slender, but unexpectedly strong.
“I think you’re yummy too,” he laughed, before kissing my lips.
The faint taste of his semen swirled between our mouths, until at long last, we fell asleep, wrapped in each other’s embrace.
We weren’t asleep for long, not more than a handful of hours, before my phone screeched into the night.
I sat up like a shot, and Finn muttered from beneath a pillow, “It’s too early, tell ‘em to fuck off.”
Pfft. Not likely. I was the kind of girl who would answer my cellphone if I got a call while on a trip to the moon. It was just rude to do otherwise.
“Hello?” I whispered into the receiver, trying not to disturb Finn further. It couldn’t have been any later than one. “Who is this?”
“It’s Lauren Totelle,” the voice replied. “Get up.”
I didn’t need to be told twice. I swung my legs over the side of the bed and bounded to my feet. It had to be… what, one, her time too? Why the heck was she calling me?
“Hi, Ms. Totelle,” I said, almost garbling my words. “What’s–”
Finn, apparently hearing the distress in my tone, tilted his confused face up to look at mine.
“Don’t speak,” Totelle sniffed. “Just listen, and you listen good. An… shall we call them, an anonymous concerned citizen sent us your Instagram video from the island, in which you say that, ahem, ‘Regency kinda sucks.’ Your grammar, obviously, not mine.”
Oh crap. I raced to reply, “Well, technically, I did say that, yes, but it’s because I’m not sure Regency is actually empowering, and besides, I don’t really work for them, right? They’re just, y’know, collaborators.”
Ms. Totelle laughed into the phone. “That’s what you think? That you can say whatever you want about our brand partners because they’re not empowering, and you don’t really work for them? Poppy, you have been sorely misled.”
My heart was in my throat, and tears were in my eyes. “I’m sorry,” I stammered. “I didn’t mean to–”
“And,” she continued, “we’ve gotten reports that you’ve been causing problems on set.”
This took me truly by surprise. “I haven’t, I swear, ma’am, I haven’t.”
I collapsed onto the ground, though I didn’t realize this until Finn shouted my name and rocketed out of bed to help me up. Even as he was putting an arm around me and hoisting me back to a standing position, I remained on the phone.
“I’m…” I said numbly, trying to process the information. “Really?”
Totelle’s voice turned flinty. “Yes. You’re fired. Someone will be contacting you shortly with information for your flight out today. Goodbye, Poppy Reeve.”
The line clicked off, and the phone slipped from my fingertips and smashed to the ground.
“What’s wrong?” Finn asked, his voice pleading as he sat me down on the edge of the bed.
I was past the point of crying, as it turned out. Usually tears sprung easily to my eyes, but now, not even the tiniest drop would appear.
“That was Lauren Totelle,” I explained, my voice and expression blank. “I’m fired.”
Finn took a step back, as if searching for balance in an unbalanced world. “No. That can’t be.”
“I am. I’m flying out today.”
“But why?” he demanded, as desperate for answers as I was.
“Apparently,” I whispered, “someone sent them that vlog, where I stupidly, stupidly said I didn’t like Regency. And then, apparently, there have been reports of me misbehaving on set, which I haven’t even done.” I was gathering steam now, the words coming faster. “I deserve to be punished for the vlog, I get it, I didn’t realize they were such tight partners, or even that anyone at Regency watched my channel – though of course they do, how else would they have found me – but I’ve been great on set, when I’ve been. Great. I’m always nice.”
Finn’s face, which had been flaming hot moments ago, had now gone cold.
In a low, dull voice, he replied, “It must have been Chrissy.”
Suddenly, everything clicked in my brain. Who else but her? She’d been out to sabotage me the whole time. It made sense that she would be behind this.
