Stunt: Hollywood Bad Boy Romance

by Savannah May

  Ohmigod, a flush of sweet hunger radiates through me as I realize there's nothing I want more than him doing those kinds of things to me. I recall how drenched my panties were as I walked away from that room, seeing him, or the man who looked like him doing that made me hot with lusty envy.

  And when he caught me caged in his arms, how close did I come to begging him to shove his fingers inside my pussy mouth? To rub away the throb of desire that's returned yet again, just thinking about him.

  Truan

  After strong-arming me on a perp walk across the entire lot, so every motherfucker gets to ogle my misfortune and whip out their phone for the trashy blogs, the cops shove me into the squad car, none too pleasantly.

  But I don't give a shit. I know what's coming. They weren't happy the first time I was let off doing the time for a crime I didn't commit and sent to live in a Beverly Hills mansion with the world's most famous asshole. I can be sure they're determined to make whatever they've got this time stick to me like shit to a pig in a pen.

  Knowing that I’ve been on my best behavior ever, in my entire life, for the sake of capturing Miss Sexy Uptight Starry Eyes, it can only be some more fucking shit perpetrated by that asshole, my double.

  I sit back and enjoy the ride downtown, knowing it could be the last time I'll see bright lights, big city for a while. The situation is my own fault and perhaps no more than I deserve. I should have stood up to that douche, Knox Templeton long ago.

  And what I hate the most about myself is agreeing to take the fall for what he did to Jenna. And what he might do to her without me around to look out for her.

  What does she think of me now?

  I can just imagine and it makes my blood curl around my edges like magma lava. Just when I finally let her see the real me, get to know me enough to start breaking down the barricade she's keeping fully erected. Now she's going to have doubts come crashing down. For sure she's going to believe it was me that took her in the dark wardrobe department, sneaking up behind her to take her unawares.

  Except what else was it Knox said? That she wanted it? She was begging and panting for him and definitely not pushing him off.

  I discounted that shit as more of his fantasies. But now I think about how she was flushed hot with the unmistakable heat of desire when she emerged from the douchebag's 'red' room, maybe I underestimated the power of her attraction to his starry pull.

  Knox Templeton has always been a human black hole. Drawing women to him with that sociopathic charm before quickly leaving them flailing. Lost for eternity with nothing. I desperately wanted to protect sexy little Jenna from his crap but maybe it's time she stands up for herself. Like she never stops reminding me.

  The idea fucking burns me up because it should be me keeping her safe. But I don’t have much choice seeing as I'm going to be spending the foreseeable future behind bars.

  I've got a chunk of money saved but not enough for some hot shot lawyer to take this on and worm me out of the pen. Not that I wouldn't gladly blow the entire wad if it would set me free long enough to claim Jenna and properly make her mine. All I’ve had in my mind since passing her in the hallway her first days on the job.

  That sassy little walk, that I knew was covering up her terror at being on a real Hollywood big budget movie. That shy but devastatingly sexy smile, and of course those seriously smoking curves. It's going to be complete torture being locked up and unable to see that sweet face and sizzling body buttoned up tight in the fake secretary outfit.

  I know what I'll be thinking as I lie on the cot stroking my dick. Tearing the buttons of that shirt wide open and shoving her tight skirt up her luscious thighs 'til it hits her round ass. Oh fuck what I wanna do to that ass.

  I've got a sneaky feeling she'd enjoy it too. Or would have. But now, even if I wasn’t going to lock down, I'm sure Jenna's decided that I'm a loser asshole she's better off without.

  Jenna

  Two days later and I'm still in shock that Truan was hauled off by LA's finest and no one's done a thing.

  “Friday's not a good day to get arrested,” my roommate, Erica says knowingly.

  “Why's that,” Penny asks, curious as I am about Erica's expertise.

  “PD's and Judges like to take the weekend. You get backed up in the system until they deign to return from their country clubs to deal with the suckers.”

  Penny and I look at each other, slightly dazed by Erica's outburst. Neither of us would dream of judging her for anything that's happened to her in the past, least of all Penny, who's all we-are-one yoga hippie.

  I'm sorry for the pain that's written in Erica's voice. She must have had a rotten time and I wish there was something I could say. Except it's so far out of my zone, I can't think of a single thing that wouldn’t make me sound more unworldly that I already am.

  “Any kind of suffering inflicted by one human on another is so wrong,” Penny says. Which sounds nice and genuine but doesn’t seem to impress Erica.

  “Yeah that and the fact that no on bothers to come visit you because it's easier to leave you in the fucking hole and forget you ever existed.”

  I don't know what to say but I instinctively put my arms around Erica and give her a huge squeeze. She surrenders to me and a great rush moves up through her chest. I'm sure she's about to burst into tears and I steel myself to hold her through it. But she tears herself out of my arms and disappears to her room, firmly closing and locking the door.

  “Let's give her some time,” Penny says. “We'll take care of her once she's had a chance to get it all out.”

  I agree but I'm already tapping LA jails close to the studios into Google maps. I have no idea whether Truan's been taken to the closest one but I have to do something so that he doesn't feel as alone as Erica did and clearly still does.

  Truan has no family. I haven't met any of his friends. It isn't easy to have friends when you work in the industry. You barely have time to sleep a few hours before you're back at work to do it all again.

  It's over an hour on the bus on the only day off I've had in weeks but I need to do this.

  I wait at the jailhouse, after filling in a stack of papers so intrusive I feel naked and raw. They won't do any strip searching of visitors, right?

  I really have no clue how this works. I naively thought I'd just show up and he'd be brought out to the meeting room like you see in the movies. Where you're seated across a table from each other in a room with rows of other convicts.

  During the hour I wait to go in, I can't stop thinking about another table we sat at, holding hands across from each other. How he promised he'd throw me down across the table and spread my legs until my hips cracked to bury himself all the way into my pussy. Then turn me over on the other side and do it all over again. I need to squirm awkwardly in the hard metal seat to alleviate the radiating heat between my thighs.

  The flush transfers itself to my cheeks when I catch the uniformed guard at the desk staring at me with a knowing smirk.

  Shit, there's no way they can read my thoughts is there? Of course not, you idiot, quit being paranoid.

  I manage to tear my eyes away from his excoriating stare and notice the three cameras in the corners pointing directly toward me. Like those old paintings with eyes that follow you wherever you go, they seem to be focused solely on my thighs.

  “Miss Golden?” Another guard appears at the desk to call me out.

  Flustered I climb off the uncomfortable chair and go up to the front, sure the cameras pivot along with every step.

  “You won't be able to visit with Mr. Dexter today. Come back following his arraignment and use the proper channels.”

  He explains the drawn out process I need to follow for a visit with a prisoner and I'm relieved to get out of there. During the long ride back to the apartment, I'm squashed into the bus with my thoughts of being taken by Truan in the jailhouse interview room. His huge wide shaft pounding me as he pins me up against the rough stone wall.

  Hardly surpr
ising that I dash past Penny and her vegetable chopping to leap into a cold shower where I can alleviate the knot of hunger throbbing in my clit.

  ChapterTWELVE

  I'm right back to work the day after trying to bust into the jail, feeling like I haven't had a moment's break. Knox is even more relentless in his demands and if it isn't him requesting errands and favors that any normal adult takes care of themselves, then it's calls from magazines and sponsors, fans and beggars all needing to be attended to.

  All those ridiculous tiny errands throughout the day, you and every other normal human being has to take care of for themselves? Yeah, if you're Knox, every last one of those gets delegated to me.

  I'm not complaining. Too much.

  I'm just so distracted by thoughts of Truan locked in a cell. The emptiness his disappearance from the set creates is palpable. Like half the light and air has been sucked out.

  God, does that mean I miss him?

  No, it must just be that I feel sympathy for his situation. If only there were something I could do to help. It will be a few weeks before I can be approved to go and visit and maybe he wont even agree to see me. It's down to the prisoner to decide who he wants to receive.

  I'm still completely absorbed by these distractions as I walk over to corporate offices to collect some papers Knox wants from the chairman's office. He could easily have sent a runner but as usual, insisted that I attend to it personally.

  I go up to the penthouse floor where Kendall Lowebloom, the studio head, resides in his suite of offices. Wow, they look out across the city, ocean and hills in the distance with glass windows on all sides. His personal assistant is gone from her desk so I hang out, gazing at the photographs of mega stars from the past adorning the walls.

  The door to Kendall's office is slightly ajar and male voices trickle through the gap. I try not to listen but my ears prickle when I'm sure I hear Knox's name mentioned. Then again, and Truan's name right after that. I look all around to ensure no one is around and after satisfying myself the huge reception area is empty, I slither closer to the crack in the door.

  “We have an eighty million dollar completion insurance policy riding on this movie,” a very strident, in control voice states. “Needless to say without Truan as Knox's stunt double, it's going to be exceptionally difficult to bring it in.”

  “I regret that, believe me,” a somehow familiar voice replies, with deference for the Hollywood honcho. “But we cannot allow Truan Dexter to be out where he might hurt any more women like this.”

  Hurt? My heart leaps. Could they be talking about me?

  “Are we sure this evidence is even legitimate?” Another voice I don't recognize chimes in authoritatively. Maybe the company lawyer.

  “We're talking photographic evidence,” the other man says.

  “Three girls tied up to St Andrews crosses, yet only one comes forward to complain she was drugged before having her pussy spanked?”

  “This woman was kept for hours on the night in question, through to the morning of the 21st. She came around to find herself being photographed and videotaped in that, er, provocative position.”

  The 21st was the day after Knox's party. They must be discussing the three women I discovered in Knox's playroom.

  Oh my god, I lean in closer so as not to miss a word. Through the crack I see the studio head at his huge black wenge wood desk, a man who is clearly his lawyer and the two detectives that arrested Truan seated opposite.

  “And you found these photographs of this woman in Truan Dexter's private bedroom.”

  “Exactly. After a search of the entire house under warrant, Dexter's room was the only place we turned up any evidence of sexual misconduct. And it was very well hidden.”

  “All we are asking for is three days to shoot this building swing scene that, as you know, we are closing down half the city for. And then the final scene on the beach in Mexico.

  “Sorry, sir, but it's out of the question,” the detective has the final word.

  “It wasn't him.” I stumble through the door before I think it through and four shocked faces swivel in my direction.

  “Who are you?” Kendall Lowebloom demands.

  “I'm Jenna Golden, currently Knox Templeton's personal assistant.” I'm not immune to the quick glance that the studio head and his lawyer exchange. “I was with Truan Dexter the night of, of the photographs. I also saw those women in the room. On the crosses.”

  The cops raise their eyebrows and I feel color rush to my cheeks. I feel guilty. As though I did something or am somehow implicated in this. The recall of how much I enjoyed the spectacle, fantasizing about replacing one of the women isn't lost on me either.

  Once again, I’m certain that the law can read my filthy thoughts although of course it's impossible, right? Jesus, imagine if it weren't and all our dirty fantasies were as visible to the justice departments as out email and internet keyboard strokes are.

  “Miss Golden, aren't you the girl who was with Dexter at the time of his arrest?” the fatter of the cops asks.

  “I am. Is it a crime to go on a date now?” I snap back, sick of his intimidating tone that seems to want to make even kissing into a crime.

  “We are simply concerned that perhaps your testimony is less than unbiased,” he replies.

  “Are you accusing my client of perjuring herself?” the lawyer pipes up aggressively, like a little bulldog scrapping for a fight. I've never set eyes on him before and all of a sudden I'm his client? I guess the studio will do anything to get this film made.

  And I'll do anything to get Truan freed again. It occurs to me suddenly that perhaps it was Truan in the playroom all along. Which would mean that it was Knox that caged me in his hold against the kitchen cupboards and pulled my tit from my bra. Shivers run down my legs recalling his heavy thumb pad strumming the nipple and how I longed for him to suck its hard peak between his firm pillow lips.

  But I realize now I’d rather it was Truan. I want him more than I've ever fantasized about Knox, or any other man.

  “No of course not, merely speculating,” the cop concedes.

  “I think this casts sufficient doubt on the evidence that you can release our employee again into our superintendence.”

  “I'll have to take it up with the judge but I suppose it could be arranged,” the cop growls, unwilling to let his prey out of his jaws.

  “We'd be very grateful detective,” Kendall Lowebloom finally speaks again, to offer a bribe. “You and your wife would be welcome to attend the premiere as our guests.”

  “There is no Mrs Howard, but I'm sure I can find a date for that evening,” the detective perks up.

  “Is everything okay?” The studio boss's secretary has returned from her break or whatever and is clearly upset to have lost stewardship of the meeting attendees. She glares at me.

  “It is Pamela, thank you,” Kendall Lowebloom purrs. “And thank you, Jenny,”

  “Jenna, Jenna Golden.”

  “Yes, thank you for coming forward. We won't forget it.”

  Pamela leads me away from the door frame, where I'm still loitering, using some expert secretarial body checking. She quickly locates the papers I came for and I'm soon out the door on the way back to the set with my heart all a-flitter. I accomplished something worthwhile today. Erica will be pleased to hear that I got an innocent man released.

  As I sashay back to the lot, it occurs to me that if it wasn't Truan taking photos of the bound girl, it definitely had to be Knox. So why aren't they coming after him now?

  Or did I maybe mix them up again and get the wrong man, or the right one, off the hook? I don't know. I'm so confused it's like I'm seeing double.

  Lost in the thoughts swirling like hurricanes in my head, I jump out of my skin when Knox's trailer door flies open. Emily Jayne comes storming down the steps, as much as it's possible to storm wearing fifteen inch heels. You have to stamp more than stride, which she does expertly. Knox comes to the door to watch her leave bu
t makes zero effort to mollify whatever she's in a snit about now.

  “There you are, Babe,” he says, as soon as he sets eyes on me. “Come in, I've got something for you.”

  What?

  Stepping inside Knox's trailer is the last thing I want to do right now. He's got a huge king size bed in one room and a couple of full size sofas in the other. Anything could happen and I'd have no recourse if Knox is doing what the fuck he wants and getting away with it.

  “Babe,” he shouts from inside, having assumed I'd follow him in. I half expect him to be sprawled fully naked across one of his luxury velvet couches, but I can't exactly refuse to do my job if I want to keep it. I gingerly step up into the trailer.

  “Shut the door, Kitten,” he orders, after I try leaving it open a crack. Just in case. I'm pretty sure he's calling me Kitten because he again has no clue what my name is. But Knox doesn’t like being corrected so I let that go as well.

  “I just heard that you stepped up and alibied my buddy Truan to the police,” he launches into it, taking me off guard.

  “I, er – I did yes,” I'm floundering around, guilty as sin yet again for something I have no reason to feel bad about.

  Knox kicks back on the sofa, one leg across its length so his thighs are splayed at their widest giving me a full view of his open crotch. Either he's massively stacked or he's got a big hard on for me.

  “That's great. You're a sweetheart,” he says. “I was gonna go myself and dig him out of the hole but you beat me to it.”

  “Oh, okay. That's fantastic,” I gush, relieved that he's cool with me speaking up. It's weird how fast he heard the news. The studio head must have got on the phone to him the instant I left the office.

  “I spoke to Kenny, my man.”

  I must look confused about the identity of Kenny then I realize he's speaking of Kendall Lowebloom the Third, the studio head and executive producer on our film. I also notice that Knox is having a hard job trying not to stare at my tits.

  “I suggested to him that we find a part on the film for you,” he grunts.