by Havana Adams
This time, his kiss was slow and gentle leaving her aching for more. His hands were gently cupping her ample breasts, teasing and then retreating before they touched her nipples and Talia let out a groan of frustration as he abandoned her breast to start to kiss her lips again. Her hand moved down between them and she gripped him, revelling in the sense of having Alex Golden totally at her mercy.
“Slow down,” Alex said pulling her hand back up. Gently he began to stroke her face pressing small kisses along her neck. Talia was fizzing with anticipation and frustration and finally she burst.
“What are you doing?” She demanded.
“What?”
“I’m serious,” she snapped. “You’re treating me like I’m made of glass.”
“I think we should take it slow.”
Talia let out an infuriated sigh and sat up in bed.
“Is this because I’m not some model?” She snapped. Alex gazed at her in bafflement.
“I was trying to… to make this good for you. To be nice.” Alex finally said and Talia hissed out a sound of rage.
“I don’t want nice. I want the full Alex Golden Hollywood experience. I want to be fucked.” She snapped out and then stilled, perhaps she had gone too far. She watched as Alex stared at her and for a moment she could have sworn she saw a stricken look in his eyes but it was quickly gone. Forcefully, he pushed her backwards, until her back hit the mattress again.
“You asked for it,” he growled. And somehow, her legs were already wrapped around him. Alex reached for the condom that he’d dumped on the nightstand and he tore it open with his teeth. With one hand he unfurled it onto his cock even as his fingers were playing with her, dipping into her. His eyes were locked between her legs, as though he couldn’t take his eyes off her. Talia raised herself up so that she could watch too even as she felt little seismic shocks begin to go off all over her body. She watched as he thrust one and then two fingers into her. She fell back with a moan, her head hanging off the edge of the bed.
“More,” she demanded. And he gave her more, coming down on her, raising her leg so it was braced over his shoulder. With a groan, he thrust all the way into her and Talia shrieked with the force of it, she felt so full. He thrust once and then twice but his fingers were still on her clit, still urging her on. She came loudly and as he continued to thrust roughly into her, without pausing, she found herself shattering all over again. As though from a long way away she finally heard Alex let out a long groan as he came. He collapsed on top of her and for a long time they lay there shattered, their bodies mashed together.
Slowly, the world began to reform around her but Talia was already drifting off. The last thing she heard before sleep claimed her were Alex’s whispered words in her ear.
“Was that Hollywood enough for you?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Tamara Fearson had been dethroned. She was no longer the biggest bitch in town. That title now belonged to Angelina Starling.
Tamara had woken to her doorbell being rung insistently. A glance out of the window had revealed a pack of shouting journalists and photographers, the shutterbugs flashing up a storm on the normally quiet and exclusive street. Immediately, she knew that something was terribly wrong. Her voicemail box, when she switched her mobile phone on, was full and the first message had made her blood run cold.
“Tamara – call me. Papers about to run an expose on you. It’s not good.” Tamara switched the phone off even as it started to vibrate in her hand, signalling an in-coming call. Her contact at the Daily News had tried to warn her but of course she’d been out playing house with Vassily. Tamara switched on her little used laptop computer and navigated to the Daily News website. The headlines were damning. Scheming, Adultery, Blackmail. There it all was, laid bare for the world to see. Somehow the truth of her involvement in the Angelina scandal had been discovered and there was more too. Her affair with Damian and several other married men, her selling of gifts on eBay to raise money and worst of all, her plan to target Vassily at the launch of Imperium. And there was Angelina on all the covers – revealing her betrayal by her “friend and mentor” Tamara. As she scanned the Internet pages, noting that the story had already been picked up by several of the tabloids and the weekly rags too, Tamara allowed a gasp of horror to break free as she realised how deep the betrayal went – some of the details were too specific, the facts precise and accurate. Casey must have sold her out too, she realised. Tamara let out a shriek of fury and launched the laptop across the room watching as it broke into two pieces and crashed through the glass coffee table. She was still for a moment and then she stood up and strode upstairs, back to her bedroom. Tamara lay down in bed, even as the sound of the journalists outside her house shouting questions drifted up to her. As she pulled the covers up, she reasoned to herself that eventually they would leave her alone.
Talia woke feeling like a new woman. There was a stiffness in her neck and she had only a hazy sense of time and place. She hadn’t been hungover in a while and it took several moments for the party to come back to her. Even as her mind raced, her body by its aches and pains was also giving her a rapid rundown of last night’s action. Talia froze as she realised that Alex’s arm was flung over her, his tanned arm a sharp contrast against her own brown skin. His hand was filled with her left breast and her breath locked in her chest as she tried to figure out the appropriate etiquette for the morning after a one-night stand with your movie star boss. Her face broke into a wide grin. She felt a thrill run through her as she glanced over at Alex, his chest rising and falling in even breaths. She had never wanted to be famous, never wanted to be on the cover of Heat but it was nice at least to have done something worthy of those magazines, she thought. She was filled with pride too. She had finally seduced a man and not just any man, a movie star. She’d finally gone out and taken what she wanted, demanded her sexual satisfaction, Talia felt the sense of power travel through her, this could get addictive. Quickly she shut down these thoughts, it was morning and she had to get a grip on the situation. It was time to make an exit. Her eyes darted across the room – her clothes were all the way downstairs and she held a groan in check as gently she tried to sidle off the bed and put some distance between herself and Alex.
“Where are you going?” He asked. Alex’s tone was quietly mocking, his voice still rough and husky with sleep. Talia closed her eyes, as though that might get her out of the situation. Alex didn’t wait for her to respond. “Morning,” he continued, lightly jumping out of bed to walk to the window, where he drew the curtains wide open. Talia gasped as she caught a raw and unadulterated look of Alex Golden naked with a morning erection big enough to make her eyes water. "Actually, it's afternoon really," he said glancing at the clock.
“Get away from the window,” Talia squealed. And Alex turned back to her laughing. “Seriously there could be photographers, old ladies, children…” Alex continued to smile but at least he moved away from the window and any potentially prying eyes.
“You want me back in bed,” he stated moving towards the bed, his eyes darkening as he took in her exposed breasts, the bed-sheet now twisted around her waist. Talia froze as their eyes met. She gulped and blinked. She could not allow herself to be drawn back in. The situation was running away from her. She would have to be firm. With a deep breath, she moved the sheet aside and stepped out of the bed. Moving as casually as she could even as her heart beat rapidly and embarrassment flooded through her, Talia moved across the room to grab a towel, which she knotted around her. She turned back to face Alex and found he was right in front of her, was pulling her into his arms to nuzzle at her neck.
“Look Alex…” Talia said twisting away from him whilst keeping a firm grip on the towel. “ Last night was….” Talia trailed off.
“Last night was…?” Alex prompted.
“Last night was amazing. You made me feel...” And now she trailed off, watching the smile spread across Alex’s face as once again, he moved towards her. Ta
lia put her hand out against his chest to stop him coming any further. “But it was completely out of character for me and I think, it’s best if we keep it a one time thing,” she finished in a rush.
“What?” Alex practically roared and Talia winced as a dart of pain pulsed through her temple. “Why?” Talia stared at him.
“Look Alex, this might be normal to you but I’m not cut out for this. And what happens when the next supermodel turns up or you head back to LA. I’m an ordinary girl and last night was great but let’s not make this something it’s not,” she finished quietly. A pulse beat in Alex’s jaw and a look passed fleetingly across his face, the shadowed expression gone before Talia could really analyse what it meant. For a moment she wondered if she’d been too harsh with him but she shook the thought off as Alex shot her a trademark high wattage smile. Of course she hadn’t hurt Alex, she’d simply said things that no doubt he would have been saying to her soon enough. Any irritation on his part was simply because she’d beaten him to the punch.
“Well I’m glad I gave you a… memorable experience,” Alex replied as he turned away moving towards the bed to pick up his trousers. Talia wondered why she felt so bad but she shook the feeling off; Alex would be fine, it was her who would wind up getting hurt.
“I’ve got to have a shower,” she said. He didn’t answer. And Talia walked out of the room even as a feeling of dread settled in her stomach.
“It wasn’t about you.”
Gabe whispered the words urgently as they walked towards the First Class lounge at the Eurostar terminal at Gare Du Nord station. It was the first time they’d been alone since she had discovered him and Sula together and Helena speared him with a cold glance.
“You’re telling me,” she drawled the words not bothering to hide the disinterest, which radiated off her like a protective shield.
“Look Helena, I just want to explain,” Gabe tried again. Helena glanced at him and shrugged.
“You were in bed with my mother, I’d say it was fairly self explanatory,” she replied coolly. Gabe flinched and Helena looked away, she wanted to get as far away from him as possible.
“When I was a boy I saw your father’s photograph – the one of Sula taken on the Kings Road and I was blown away. Your father is why I became a photographer. I was obsessed with him, his work, his methods, his muse…” Gabe trailed off and Helena stared at him as she took in his words. And then she began to laugh. It was a low, hoarse laugh. Helena would not allow herself to get mad.
“The ultimate fanatic. Just another fanboy.” She drawled. “You admire my father so much, so what better way to have a piece of him than to screw his muse. And no doubt my dear mother was very obliging. What was I? A little appetiser?” Gabe paled at Helena’s words and she watched him almost dispassionately. What a deluded fool, she thought but still the desire to burn him rose up in her, the desire to inflict some damage before she cut him loose.
“You know when we cleared out my grandfather’s house, we found my father’s things – his notebooks, unpublished prints, all his sketches and of course his Leica camera….” Helena watched the spark of interest in Gabe’s eyes – god he really was a desperate groupie. “Think about how amazing it would be, to see all of that,” Helena said. “But I doubt Alex would ever allow the archive to be made public and especially not to you after what I’m going to tell him.”
Gabe gaped at her and Helena could have laughed.
“Helena,” he finally gasped. And she spun around to face him.
“Your film was a critical success but it made nothing at the box office. I think the distributor called it “spectacularly un-commercial”, so I think it’s safe to say you’re no Tom Ford, which is why you’ve come running back to fashion.” Helena stared hard at Gabe and wondered what she had seen in him. He was beautiful, it’s true but now, viewing him dispassionately, she could see his weak chin, the grasping look in his eye that marked him out as just another desperate social climber. She rocked back on her heels not hiding the curl of contempt on her lips as she watched him squirm. “You know Alex knows the editor on your film. What was it he said…the rushes were shit and basically he re-made that film from scratch in the editing room.” Her words were cold and incisive and she saw Gabe pale, this was one story that Gabe would never want to be made public. Poor stupid man. Helena turned on her heel and moved towards the waiting train. By the time she took her seat, she was smiling. A weight that she had always carried had been lifted; finally she had found closure and a sense too that there were new beginnings for her to seize. No longer would she hide her light, no longer would she tiptoe and try to hide in Sula’s shadow. From now on she would strike out and find her own glory, her mother be damned.
Three days after the story broke, Tamara had still not turned on her phone. William had come by and Katie had been on hand daily with supplies but the one person conspicuous by his absence had been Vassily. Whenever the story threatened to die down, some other make up artist or gaffer or director, the many nobodies who kept a set running – one of the many she had crushed without thought over the years, one of these minions would emerge with some story about Tamara’s cruelty, Tamara’s avarice, Tamara’s contempt for her fellow man. Through the Internet she had learned that Damian had been suspended pending an investigation by the broadcaster and from that moment, Tamara had known the end was near. The call when it came had been short, her agent had been informed, by the broadcaster, that Tamara’s contract would be terminated, her character written out within weeks. Tamara had taken the news in silence and a calm had descended upon her. She had been at rock bottom once before she reasoned; she would claw her way back.
“You’ll be back,” Katie had said.
“You were too fabulous for that show anyway,” William added. And Tamara had nodded but even to her the words rang hollow. She was a woman deep into her thirties and this business was a young girl’s game, she knew that.
Days later, she found herself outside Vassily’s Chelsea home late on a weeknight. She had stolen out of her house under cover of darkness, a Trilby hat pulled low on her head, her blonde hair tucked away. She had no idea whether he was home, whether he would even see her but she was desperate and for the first time in a long time, Tamara opened herself up to the possibility of rejection. She heard the sound of moving footsteps inside the house and then the door was opened by Vassily himself. His look was cold and Tamara shivered inside her thin coat. Perhaps coming hadn’t been such a good idea.
“You didn’t return my calls,” he accused. And Tamara blinked in surprise; he had called. A small candle of hope flickered inside her as she stepped across the threshold into the house.
“I switched off the phones,” she finally answered. Vassily turned and moved back into the house and Tamara fell into step behind him, following him into the kitchen, where the sound of low jazz music emanated from an iPod docked in a fancy looking contraption. Vassily clicked the music off and turned back to Tamara.
“Is it true?”
Tamara sighed and shrugged.
“Most of it.” She admitted. “But I didn’t use Sasha, that was… real, she’s a lovely girl and I wouldn’t do that.” Vassily nodded, he was quiet for a long moment and Tamara could only wait and hope. Finally he gave a shrug.
“We’ve all done things,” he said with a crooked smile and Tamara felt something unexpected lurch in her chest. She hadn’t expected this from him. Understanding. She realised that Vassily was still talking. “What will you do now?” He asked. “I heard about the show.”
Tamara shrugged. “I don’t know,” she said in a small voice. She watched as he pulled out two glasses and poured a large measure of vodka into both. Gratefully she took the glass and downed the drink in one gulp, grimacing at the bitter aftertaste.
“Do you need…?” Vassily paused awkwardly and Tamara’s eyes were drawn to his face. “Do you need money?” He finished. Tamara winced. One of the tabloids had got wind of the perilous state of her financ
es. She had always liked the finer things in life but that came at a cost and now she was on the verge of bankruptcy. Her fabulous life had been built on a foundation of air and easy credit but now, with her job gone, it was all falling down. She turned back to Vassily and watched as he took a gulp of his vodka. She moved towards him and leaned up to kiss him. In her Chanel flats she had to stand on her tiptoes to reach his mouth. She felt him still and then he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close to him. Her worries drifted away and for a moment she was transported, like that first time in the lift nothing existed but them and this overpowering desire, this driving need to get under each other’s skins. Finally Vassily pulled away.
“You don’t have to do this,” he said roughly.
“Let’s go upstairs,” Tamara said still lost in the moment. Slowly she opened her eyes and found that Vassily was staring hard at her.
“What?” She asked.
“It’s not the right time,” he finally answered. Tamara’s eyes widened. She stepped back from him as though she’d been slapped.
“You’re turning me down?”
“No. I’m just saying – you’re not yourself. I don’t want you to do anything that you’ll regret.” Tamara felt rage boil up in her. He was rejecting her, turning her down when she needed him most.
“The money is still yours.” Tamara flushed as she got his meaning and for a moment she was transported back to another time and place. A young girl from a small town with nothing but her looks, she had made some questionable decisions in her past but not this time. With her palms on his chest she shoved hard, desperate to get away from him.
