by Savannah May
“There's this girl,” Knox huffs.
“What girl?”
Here we go I think. There's always some girl with Knox. He has the habit, or addiction, of being unable to keep his dick out of every woman on the planet.
“I, dunno. She- we – got caught.”
“When? Who by?” He is really freaking out because not only his career, his entire life is on the line with this movie.
“Now, Just now, in the wardrobe department, by Celia fucking Proops. You know how she feels about me.”
Yeah about the same as the rest of us who know the real you behind the PR facade.
“So what? Celia's not going to say anything.” I shrug him off.
Because none of us say anything. Most of the crew on Knox's movies don’t want to lose their jobs and get blacklisted by studios. Our salaries come with the codicil of keeping our mouths shut. I also have little inclination to end up back in the slammer. Not when I've so recently made my way out.
Knox heads to my closet and yanks the door open to where he keeps his stash of booze. He selects a tequila reposado and slams back a couple of shots, then pours himself a fist of Scotch whiskey.
What's that shit doing in my closet?
Knox is not permitted any booze or drugs on set during this production. One of the requirements of the completion insurance package, seeing as his last film didn’t get finished properly when he was dragged off to rehab. Not that it was real rehab so much as a luxury country club he could hide out in. A cover up for the fact that he was found in a hotel room passed out on a king bed surrounded by three naked women, one of whom had not quite attained her eighteenth birthday.
“What about the girl?” he moans.
“What girl? Who was it?”
“I do not know,” he insists.
Not surprising. He never knows. The amount of booze he consumes, he can't remember a woman he's fucked ten minutes after he's blown his load.
“I thought she was a bit part. The blond in scene 37 with the big round tits. So fucking hot. They weren’t even fake. You have to cover for me. Say it was you.”
“You want me to pretend I fingered an unknown woman in the dark?”
“It's nothing you don't do every night in a bar,” he snarks. The half bottle of tequila he's tossed back already kicking in.
“It's nothing you don't do every night in a bar. I don't treat women that way.”
“Oh, don't be such a pussy. I know you've taken women here and there.”
“Not like that. Not without their consent.”
“She wanted it. She wasn’t exactly throwing me off. She didn’t even object. I never would have touched her if she didn’t beg me for it.”
Yeah right.
He didn’t need me to remind him of the incident of the sex tape with the young girl. Admittedly girls look older in Hollywood and are surprisingly expert. But still. If he waited long enough to find out their names, he might get an inkling that they aren't legal.
“What if she tells Alaine, or anyone. Boasts about it on her Facebook.”
Yeah, because we all have nothing better to do than post Knox sightings on our social.
“And if Emily Jayne gets wind of it that'll be my balls in a vise. You've got to say it was you.”
“No way man, we agreed that I wasn’t going to be your beard for sexual indiscretions this time.”
“Just this one time, Sis. I wouldn't ask except you know, I'm contractually obliged to keep it sweet with that ball breaker Emily until fourteen days after final red carpet opening night.”
It's always one last time with my old buddy Knox. The last last time was when he was set up dating this Victoria's Secret angel. A hot slinky redhead from some Eastern European country. Another one of those relationships created by the studio's PR department, to get Knox back in the limelight and launch her perfume line or panty line or whatever the corporation needed to sell. All paid for by them as subversive advertising.
You didn’t really think these celebrity hook ups were for real, right?
He couldn’t stand her. He couldn’t bear to be in the same room, said she stank of eggs or some shit. So he sends me to their make up date after a fight about what else, him fucking around with one of the other models after the fashion show.
And I do the requisite amount of groveling and am set to leave when she comes on strong. All of a sudden she's forgiven me, him, and is begging me to lick her out. She drops her sheath dress to the ground and is standing there in that sexy lace lingerie. With her fingers buried in her waxed clean pussy, it's more than any real man could resist.
Let alone one who's only recently exited a place where soft skin and hot pussy is nowhere to be found. I fuck her so hard because the chick is seriously hot and I guess I was pissed as hell about, everything. But most of all about being Knox Templeton's fucking shill just because we look as alike as Siamese twins.
After I banged her half a dozen times in every position from the Kama Sutra, I was anticipating how long before I'd get the threat of a restraining order in the mail. But instead she's lying there on her back panting like she just conquered Everest.
“Fuck Knox, that was a-may-zing. How come you never fucked me like that before? I was starting to think I was your beard or something. I love it wild and pounding like that. And your cock seemed so much bigger inside me, harder, hotter. Fucking huge. Oh god, fuck me again. I need it, Knox. I need your big dick in me.”
Jeez that chick was insatiable, even if vapid. I have to admit I kept up the game a little while, dropping by to see her whenever my man was busy with something fresh on his plate and dick. It was all good until he showed up and they got into a massive fight.
What it was about he never told me but I can guess his limp selfish dick had something to do with it. I never told Knox that word out I was hung harder, bigger and better than him. He'd have hung my ass out with the Chinese laundry.
“I don't want go through another three month shoot with everyone staring at me like I'm a fucking pervert,” I tell him now.
Which is too on the nose because Knox's mouth turns down in that vicious look he gets when he doesn’t instantly get what he wants. The one you'd expect to see on a kid right before he tears the wings off some poor insect and sticks a pin in the cat.
“I figure that's better than another stint in sing-sing,” he rips out before pouring himself another six fingers of scotch.
So there we have it.
The threat is on the table. Welcome to my life as the chump mark to Knox Templeton.
How the fuck did I end up in this hole just because I happen to look exactly like the world's most famous movie star?
ChapterFOUR
Knox and I have been buds since kindergarten. Not even kidding, even back then I was his patsy and somehow he managed to blame me for all the shit he stirred up. Whether punching some kid who wouldn’t give up his new Star Wars figure or the candy Knox decided he was entitled to steal. When he pulled some girls panties down – yeah, he was a kinky kid even then, but no one saw it.
Somehow he managed to charm everyone into thinking he was stellar. When everyone started commenting about how we looked alike and even the teachers struggled to tell us apart, I quickly morphed into his scapie.
Knox is never one to miss an opportunity.
And those are the roles we remained with through puberty and beyond. Knox got himself modeling jobs, that led to a soap opera, then movies. I took the heat for a few of Knox's pranks and somehow ended up in juvie.
And we know what happens once you get on that treadmill. It runs faster and faster until you never get off. They say three quarters of inmates re-offend and go back to jail with three years. That's because no one ever lets you forget you were in the system. There's no rehabilitation and crime becomes the only option when you can't survive any other way.
I'm grateful to Knox for giving me a job even if it's only because it's convenient for him to do so. He needs me to cover him and act as decoy.
Because otherwise who knows where the fuck either of us would be now. On the other hand, if it wasn’t for him. I would never have been arrested the first time.
No way I'm going back to that life. Knox got me out, in the end, and conditions state that he's responsible for my actions. I have to abide by what my new jailer wants and what he wants is for me to pretend that it was me that finger fucked some girl in the wardrobe department so that his co-star, his adoring public and most important, the studio lawyers, won't find out.
“Okay, Sis, no worries,” I bite out against all inclination. “If she puts in a complaint, I'll say it was me.”
I guess I can kiss goodbye to all the good times I was lining up in my head with the girl in the hall.
Fuck.
Jenna
I don’t get a chance to speak to Knox right away. I'm held up with requests for interviews and cover shoots. His diary needs a full time manager just to juggle the scheduling, never mind the contractual clauses and financial remuneration. I don’t deal with all that of course but it means liaising with his manager and press secretary, even his personal trainer.
And finally, I get to bring him a double espresso and he takes it from me without a glance. Like he doesn’t even know who I am, never mind that his mouth was sucking my neck and his fingers were buried inside me a couple of hours ago.
My pussy clenches at the memory of his deletable touch, craving more of what I know I can't have. But a surge of anger flares in me too. I've been ghosted a few times in my life but not when I have to face the person every freaking day as their go-fer girl.
I go to his dressing room when we wrap for the day but he's in a screaming match with Emily Jayne and I don't feel like waiting around to hear the outcome. So I head out to the bus and go home. The girls are all eager to hear how the shoot's going and what I got up to with Knox that day so I tell them.
“Are you kidding me right now?” Erica screeches. “You made out with Knox Templeton while wearing a Hollywood starlet frock? That is so hot.”
“Not really. He blanked me the rest of the day.”
“Isn't he dating Emily Jayne?” Penny asks.
“Apparently. Although it doesn’t seem like a blissful romance. They were fighting when I left.”
“Well there’s hope for you yet,” Erica says and receives a frown from Penny
“We don't want to wish anything but love on them. Communication is always best,” Penny says. Always the open communicator.
*
I bring Knox a list of his interview requests and the mentions of him online that another go-fer spends all day putting together for his publicist. He takes the list from me and tosses it aside, as I suspect he'd like to discard me.
Finally I’ve had enough and before I consider the consequences, words are rolling across my lips.
“Hey I get it Mr Templeton. You're a mega celeb and I'm a nobody, but I have feelings you know.”
His eyes lift up to me from under thick lashes and my heart almost stops, he's so gorgeous. If only wishes could come true because all mine would center on having Knox press his solid bulge into me again.
“Of course you do, er, Sam?” he says tenderly like I could almost believe he cares.
“Jenna,” I bark.
Seriously, you can stroke someone's G-spot but you can't recall their name?
“Yeah, Jenna, Sorry, long day. And call me Knox. Mr Templeton is my father.”
“Okay, Knox,” I say softening for him. “Look, I'm not going to mention yesterday’s event.”
“Great. But I still don’t know what you're talking about. Am I missing something? I'm so distracted by the shoot and my girlfriend's neediness.”
Ouch. That told me in no uncertain terms. Is he warning me off?
“I just want to let you know I won't tell. I promise I won't say a word.”
“About what?” he whispers, like we're sharing a naughty secret.
“About yesterday. In the wardrobe department.”
“What about the wardrobe department, Babe. Don't be obtuse. I'm an actor not a detective. Feed me the lines straight.”
“I need this job. I won't say anything.”
“Kitten, you've got this job as far I'm concerned but as for whatever happened in the wardrobe department I have no idea what you're talking about. You must be confusing me with someone else.”
Right. Because it's easy to mix up renowned movie stars with electricians.
His phone chimes at that moment and he actually picks it up. I have to bite down on my lip to silence the rage that wells that he tried to deny what happened. Probably a good thing because I might have ripped him a newer one. Harder than anything even the bi-atch Emily Jayne could dish out.
“Emily's on her way,” he says, flicking his phone off. “Could you give me a moment, er, Babe? She get's upset if I'm closeted with beautiful girls like you.”
I'm sure she does. I step out and go loiter around Craft Service with the rest of his entourage.
His minder soon comes out to join us, making a cutthroat sign with his finger.
“Full blown,” he says.
“Again?' Someone else groans. “That means a long night.”
I have no idea what they're talking about, then Knox emerges from his trailer looking stunning in a dark tee shirt that cuts across the rippling stomach. The same one that molded into my body only yesterday. The sleeves stretch over the perfectly ripped shoulders that held me motionless while he – I don’t even want to go there. He pulls on an artfully beaten up leather jacket.
“Let's go,” he commands.
Our little gang trail behind, following him like he's a General leading his followers into battle and I'm swept along.
“What's happening? Where are we going?” I stutter.
“Probably the Green Room, or Blitz,” one of his peeps replies. “Some club with a good VIP room that Knox can get wrecked in without the paps seeing him.”
“But I have to go home, it's an hour bus ride.”
The assistant looks at me like I just arrived from mopping out the canteen and I'm still holding the mop.
“You're with Knox Templeton, little one, you're gonna be out all night. Don't worry you can take the early bus.” she says the last word like it stinks.
I really do need to get a car. Although I can hardly go out drinking all night then drive home. Do all these people live in Beverly Hills or something?
We climb into the limousine following behind Knox's identical one. There's quite a jam of us and it's a while before I notice Knox is here in the car with the help. So who's in the one up front? Does he have a decoy limo in case the paparazzi are following?
I'm learning so much about this business I never knew. And so much about Knox. I'm surprised that's him sitting quietly in the corner. Looking out the window on the city lights passing, calm and pensive when he appeared almost wasted and pumped up to party more when we left the studio lot. He must be thinking about his fight with Emily Jayne. If I wasn’t so hurt and upset, I might almost feel sorry for him.
We pull up at Blitz, a discreet entrance sporting a fifties style vintage neon sign with a crowd of people waiting behind a double velvet rope. There's a huge commotion as we all pile out of the vehicle.
Knox pulls down a baseball hat before exiting the limo but when I climb out I see he's already on the red carpet, waving to fans under a storm of popping flashbulbs. I've never seen so many lights flashing, my eyes are half blinded so I think I'm seeing double.
Then I realize I am having double vision.
Knox is walking into the club and the paps have turned away to check their screens, completely uninterested in us, the entourage. So they don’t notice a duplicate Knox entering the club under cover of a dark baseball cap. Or was it the other way around?
Because, holy fuck, Knox has a twin.
Truan
I wallow in a long tall drink of her. Allowing my eyes to traverse her fantastic lithe body, flowing the line of curves just
begging to be licked and stroked all night long. I can hardly believe she's come out partying with Knox's entourage tonight. I had no idea she was one of the gang from hell.
I haven't seen her around since the brief sexy passing in the hall but that doesn't mean she's been out of my mind. Or that my dick hasn’t stirred up every time I think about her. If clearly imagining your cock buried up to the hilt in a beautiful wet pussy was the same as doing it, I've already taken her a hundred times. It's not like there aren’t a billion fucking girls on the lot but this one does something completely whack to my insides.
One smile and all I can think about is trailing my tongue across that pouty bottom lip before completely drilling into that mouth and claiming it as mine. That business of Knox and the girl he finger-fucked seems to have blown over at least. It's back to normal with us following him around like groupies, covering the useless fuck's ass.
But perhaps the evening won't be a total fuck off with her along.
“Who is that,” I ask one of the prop girls, with a nod in the direction of the hottest girl in the club.
“Who, the fat chick? That's Jenny or Lenny, Knox's latest PA, a real hillbilly from Texas.”
“I think you'll find hillbillies are from back East,” I snarl.
I don't know that for sure about that but I'm damned certain she doesn’t and I need to let her know I'm not up for a bitch-fest. I will never understand why women can be so catty about each other sometimes.
“Also Jenny or Lenny is nowhere near fat. She has the best body of anyone here tonight.”
“Whatevs,” she shrugs.
Knox has half fallen into a circular booth and is shouting for us all to climb in with him. He can't stand to be alone for two seconds the big baby brat. So we do as commanded along with a couple of girls hanging at the bar in mini dresses that barely cover their underwear. Total star sluts.
The type of girls that wait around in clubs for Hollywood to drop by. The girl, Jenny, is sitting beside him, with one of the star fuckers on his other side. I miss my chance sliding in beside her so I have to take the opposite side of the circle. Fuck I don't know how I didn’t maneuver that better so I could get to talk to her.
