by H. M. Irwing
“I cannot help it. It was priceless. If only I had been swift enough to record the whole thing,” sighed Erin disappointedly.
“You ass!” I bit out angrily.
“Baby, you know I wasn’t laughing at you. But if you had seen Colin’s face when he saw your slap coming…” Erin broke off to chuckle again.
“I see I will not get anything sensible out of you.” I pulled my hand free from his warm and delicious grasp and waddled off on my own to find something stronger than the champagne I had been drinking. I hated the bubbles; it was not conducive to how I was feeling, and that was flat white. Not in the least bit bubbly. I made a beeline for the nearest waiter to grab the tall white wine off his tray but missed it by an inch.
“Wha—” I turned angrily to confront whomever snatched it off the tray, and my mouth fell open to see the sleazy Mr. Orlando Winthrope, of Sydney, ogling at my curves.
“You want some of this?” he slurred out lewdly, indicating at the glass of wine he was sporting but meaning something else altogether. Mindful of his being a major investor for most collections, I knew better than to offend, but it was a struggle all the same to not blurt out the first response that came to mind.
“There you are, love. Been looking all over for you,” said a deep voice from behind me. An arm wrapped about my waist, and I was reeled back against a firm chest. Looking back, I saw Lucian Miles, the biggest billionaire playboy on this side of town, had me firmly in his grasp. Was this how it would be from here on out? To be treated as if I were public property? To be grabbed and fondled by random people? Glancing around at the mostly drunk crowd, I saw that I was not alone in receiving all this touchy feely. My eyes instantly searched the crowd for Erin. Somehow, it felt wrong being in anyone’s arms other than his. I turned back to face Lucian awkwardly over my shoulders. This was like out of the pan and straight into the fire. Lucion Miles, while a lot more pleasing to look at than Ogling Orlando, was reputed to be far worse an offender as far philandering went, quite possibly because his attempts would actually work. Not with me, of course. I looked around wildly for Erin, regretting leaving his side in that instant. I hadn’t the classiness to deliver these two a set down that wouldn’t offend. I caught Erin’s eye from across the room and sent out an SOS, using my most brittle smile.
“Quit fooling around, Claire. You can mingle later. You’re up next,” said Erin sternly, coming instantly to my rescue.
“Wha-? I was not—” I was tugged unceremoniously out of Lucian’s arm and pushed along ahead of a very grim-faced Erin.
“Alone for two minutes…” he gritted out angrily, into my ear. “And look at the heap of trouble you get into,” Erin added unfairly. He started to haul me toward the back entrance to the platform, where models were striding across to and fro to the dull throb of the trance-like music.
I started to drag my feet, having a horrible idea of just where he was heading with this.
“Jean Paul,” Erin called out, ruthlessly tugging me after him. “Do me a favor and put her up next will you.” I was shoved unceremoniously into Jean Paul’s arm.
Then, I was being herded onto the platform to stand in line, and before I knew it, I was shoved out past the curtains and into the blinding glare of the spotlight.
The glare was startling. Almost instinctively, I moved to double back in horror, but a firm hand at the small of my waist pushed me on.
“You’re on.” The voice could barely be heard over the din of the music. I took a step forward and a hush came over the crowd as they took in the overwhelming contrast of fat me coming up behind scrawny and willowy, the usual shapes of models. Instantly, flashes of yet more light exploded all around me. Fear wrangled with horror, but it was really anger that shone through, winning that silent battle. Anger over Erin for thrusting me up here without so much as a glimmer of a warning. But the spotlight was on me, and it was too late to back down. I knew just how this was done, having seen Janice do it for years. I had even secretly practiced and imagined myself in just such a moment.
Of course, the reality was ten times scarier. With a thumping heartbeat that rivalled the greatest drums of the continent, I took the first hesitant step forward then determinedly, blocking out the sceptical and scornful crowd, I took the next bold step forward. Then, I took a deep breath and let my hips sway with each stride, rocking to the music. The beat intensified, and my confidence grew. Catching a fleeting glance of a very smug-faced Erin shot my anger once more to the forefront. And I found myself slamming each foot down before the other as I strutted my way haughtily right up to the end of the runway before I executed a sharp turn that almost snapped my booty out of its tight-lifting confines. With a snobbish tilt of my head and a narrow-eyed look, I clicked my way back snappily. And before I knew it, the end was in sight. With a final half twirl, I was behind the curtains and safe from the scrutiny of the most-respected critics of the fashion world.
Feeling a little light headed, I made my way back gingerly. Walking through the darkened corridors, this time without so much of a swagger, I was determined to get a hold of that scheming Erin and getting the hell out of there.
“You did splendidly,” exclaimed a grinning Erin. I threw him a disgusted look and pushed past, determined to head straight for the exit.
“Stunning! Simply stunning!” exclaimed an old man, striding up to me. “You have inspired me to design a range for the plus-size women. But you have to promise me you will be my show stopper just as you were tonight,” said the old man.
“But of course, Monsieur Valentino. Claire will be happy to do your show,” declared Erin from behind me, for which I was thankful, for I was suddenly feeling embarrassingly at a loss for words.
“See you at the after party, love,” said Valentino with a wink.
“You are sex on heels,” called out yet another, no doubt some drunken rich snob.
“A goddess! My mouth watered as I watched your tits jiggle with each stride you took. Then, when you spun around, I was struck afresh by your luscious ass. You, Madame, are made for fuck.” The ass beamed up at me as if he had just uttered the most amazing thing.
I smiled tightly in return and counted the ticking clock, wanting to go back home and simply sleep the year away. Strutting about on pencil thin heels was a painful and tiring business. I looked over to where Erin had been standing, only to find that I had lost him along the way. With a disgruntled sigh, I halted in my attempt to get to the door and instead found myself searching the darkened confines of the nightclub looking for him. He wasn’t all that hard to find. Not only was his Erin Magnetism working strong and on overtime, but it was apparently working on others as well, and not just me. Seconded in a corner, all but sandwiched between two heiresses, flirting shamelessly with the wife of a tycoon, was my Erin Robertson.
Mine because I wanted him to be so. The gal! Plucking me out from the sheltered confines of mere model management to be a model myself and then subjecting me to the constant sexual frustration from merely being in his company, and now, he put me up on the platform with no prior warning of his intentions. He owed me and owed me big!
And I would collect. Licking my lips with delicious anticipation, I did an about turn to go hunt him down instead. The exit could wait. It was, after all, just on the way out. But Erin required a bit more than the mere stalking of a well-honed huntress. He needed to first be rescued from the clutches of other grasping bitches.
It was called networking.
Janice had always done her own. I had been lucky there, for I had only to ride her success. Never before had I considered the level of shit that was involved in attaining that. My two steps backtracking in had me instantly surrounded by predators of my own. They swarmed about me, offering unwanted advice, soliciting unwanted attention, and delivering mostly revolting compliments. Learning how to wade through these murky waters would have to be the route I take, for my aim was still and ever would be narrowing in on Erin. And if circling around these shark-infested waters was
the only way to go about it, then I would suck in my guts and do just that.
Hours later, and I shifted wearily on aching heels and kept up the mindless grimace that by now seemed to be permanently etched onto my skin. My mind, by now, a blank canvas of thought free and, hence, provocation free. I now knew how bimbos were produced. After experiencing today, I could foresee a bimbo in the making myself. There was no way out of it. It was a prerequisite to the industry I had unwittingly committed myself into—the only way to survive all this mindless posturing.
“Having fun, darling?” drawled out the familiar tones of my sister.
“Janice!” I all but screamed out in delight, happy to have a familiar face on the scene, even if it belonged to none other than Janice. She was just whom I needed to see—someone to talk some sense into me. Someone to rescue me out of this mess I’d landed myself in. Modeling was just not for me. I turned silent, if imploring, eyes on her.
“Chin up and smile, love. You wanted this. Now, quit whining and face up. And for God’s sake, put a proper smile on your face. You look like you just ate a box of prunes and cannot hold it in any longer,” Janice said snappily before moving off to disappear into the crowd again.
“She’s right, you know? You really are making a paltry effort. You are lucky that the booze everyone is consuming and that hot number you’ve got on more than makes up for it,” the enigmatic Marcus Lambert, a most sought after top male model under Erin’s wing said. “But if you ask me nicely, I’ll take you home,” offered Marcus with a sly grin, leaving no doubt in his sultry tones just whose home he would be taking me to.
“That won’t be necessary, Marcus,” interrupted Erin, finally coming to my rescue. “We are leaving. Shall we?”
I looked with some exasperation at Erin. He had shown no indication of wanting to leave just seconds earlier, but then, Marcus steps up to me, and he was all gung ho about going home. But I wasn’t one to question the fates when it was spinning my way. So instead, I rushed on ahead, making for that marked exit before he decided to have second thoughts on our great escape. I heaved a great sigh of relief as soon as I emerged out into the open.
“Damn! Where are all the bloody valets? You stay here while I go hunt for someone to retrieve my car,” muttered Erin darkly before disappearing off with determined strides into a side street, of all places.
I shrugged my shoulders and groaned out loud. My feet ached, and I couldn’t even slouch. The damn gaping bodice did not allow for slouching, and the bejeweled choke collar didn’t help either. I marched impatiently to and fro, shifting my weight on my aching feet before I finally gave in to just stood there, tapping my feet.
A hand reached out of nowhere to slide into my gaping neckline and clutch painfully at my breast. I screamed.
“Don’t move, and not a sound.” The gleam of metal caught my eyes and rendered me effectively silent. But the sound of running feet approaching had me hopeful for a timely rescue.
“What the fuck?”
The sound of bone crunching could be heard in the sudden silence, and then, the grip on my tit went lax, and a dull thud was quick to follow. I spun around to face my fallen assailant. Yet another drunken, rich bad boy slumped to the ground. I wasn’t exactly sure what he had hoped to achieve by his manhandling of my person. Did he actually get a kick out of frightening models? Or was this just a move that models actually fell for? Or was he just a plain old rapist?
None of it mattered any either, for I was shaking from fright, regardless of his intent.
“Two fucking minutes! I leave you alone for two minutes, and you get yourself almost raped. Fuck!” Erin had the nerve to gripe as he bent down to wipe his blood-splattered knuckles against my fallen assailant’s expensive shirt.
It had not been just two minutes. More like twenty. But I wasn’t stupid enough to say that—not when Erin was in a snit about it. If he were in such a state about it, how did he think I felt? I was the victim here. I silently fumed, fear quickly being replaced by anger.
The car drove up, and a sheepish-faced valet jumped out to toss Erin the keys.
“Get in!”
I gladly did, eager to get away and just as eager to get off my feet. The first thing I would do when I got home was snap that damn heel in two. Who cared if it was a Jimmy Choo?
The atmosphere in the car was tense. We were each angry. I didn’t understand his reason for being angry. I was the victim. You are not supposed to be angry at the victim. I understood my anger all too well, though. And it was wholly justified. I had a shitty day from morning ‘til … morning! And little to no food throughout it all. That poor excuse of bites they served with cocktails at the club was not even worth the effort of a chew. It did nothing—absolutely nothing to satisfy my hunger. Not even the slightest cuff off the sides. Nothing. Nada! Then, there had been all those stupid exercises, the endless primping and prodding, and yet more posturing and posing. Then, a visit to the nightclub from Hell. … And now, I was almost raped by a millionaire playboy. Fuck!
It was somewhere in that silent ranting that I noted he had fucking missed my turn.
“You missed my turn,” I said tightly, leaving out the string of cuss words I silently mouthed off in my head.
“We are not going to your place. I am taking you to mine. Where I can fuck you uninterrupted.”
The tension in the car changed tone really quickly after that. I didn’t feel quite so tired anymore. Fuck, I was excited! But I wasn’t going to show it. False pride and all, and certainly not when he was being such a jerk.
“Erin, I don’t think—”
“Not a fucking word, or I’ll pull over and do you right here,” he threatened roughly, and oddly enough, I believed him. So, I kept my gap shut the rest of the way and crossed my legs impatiently. The quiet hum of an expensive engine was oddly soothing. I rested my head back against the plush seats and enjoyed the luxuries of his car. Shutting my eyes, I breathed in his delicious scent, so tantalisingly close yet out of reach—at least for the duration of this ride. After that, he was all mine. I couldn’t quite help my happy sigh at that. But then, the weary day I’d had weighed back down on me. Sleep overcame me in a wave that took me under without protest.
The floating feeling was amazing.
I felt as light as a feather.
The cool breeze washed against my heated skin, and I stretched and purred like a cat.
“That’s right, baby, we’re almost there.” His soothing tones sent ripples of excitement down my spine. I shivered.
“Yes, baby, that’s good,” Erin murmured in my ears, sending more delicious chills to erupt in goose bumps across my skin. My nipples pointed into tight nubs, strained up and stretched taunt, all for him.
“Oh, yes, baby. That’s the way,” whispered Erin, urging on my body’s undeniable reaction to this closeness. “Tight and sweet; so sweet and luscious…”
His words sent a hot flash across those nether parts of my body already in a heat to have at him. I opened my eyes then and met the lust-filled glitter of Erin’s deep-blue lenses. I realized then that the floating feeling came from Erin carrying me as if I weighed nothing, and the breeze that flitted against my skin was from my naked top. Somehow, my bodice had been pushed aside to fully expose my naked breasts. I looked up to watch his hungry gaze, fixated on my lush form, and barely contained the yelp of excitement.
“Soon, baby,” he soothed roughly. “We’re almost there.”
I wrapped my arms about him to support myself better and as an excuse to simply hold him. He was just sooo beautiful. I was almost panting in excitement. He stepped into the lift and then released his hold on my legs so that I slid back down to stand upright on my own two feet. The whimper that broke loose from that action was not at all from pleasure.
“Sore feet?” Erin asked with the slightest crooked grin, his eyes still staring at my exposed mounds.
“Em… yes,” I muttered as I shifted uncomfortably, on aching feet, and then tried to shift the fa
bric of my dress to cover up.
“Don’t bother,” he said seriously. “I’m just going to rip it off shortly.”
I couldn’t hold back the moan from hearing that. My reaction was immediate; intense heat pooled down my heated veins, and I all but flung myself back into his arms. His arms reached out niftily, fielding me. I was enveloped in his male scent and the heat that was all him. He shifted his hold on me, turning me to face away from him, and I whimpered in confusion, not wanting even the slightest separation between us.
His hands plunged into my bodice, and I yelped again. This time over pure pleasure, as he plucked at my nipples and played me like a maestro.
“Shh, easy does it. Soon. I’ll have your pussy, soon,” he whispered tightly, offering a reassurance that had the opposite effect. I was flushed anew with a rush of heat, and that just had me even more frantic for him than before. I couldn’t believe this was actually happening—that I was actually in the arms of the greatest crush of my life. Of the man that I had secretly and then not so secretly drooled over from most of my post-puberty life. The merest glimpse of him had been all that I had lived for… for numerous times that I lost actual count. I couldn’t believe I was actually going to shag his bones. It was oddly touching. I felt weirdly privileged to jump his bones.
And I couldn’t wait to finally have what I always wanted. For too long, I had been reduced to finding my release with just the thought of him on my mind. Now, he was here in person and, for some reason, just as keen to do me as I was to have him. And I knew more than anyone that fates could be strangely fickle when it so chose. So, I wasn’t about to let it or anyone, for that matter, snatch this moment from me. Twisting awkwardly in his arms, I pounced on him. He evaded my searching lips and chuckled out a laugh at my eagerness, but I didn’t care. I latched on his neck and suckled hard.
