by Magan Vernon
“Come on, Maryyyyy Marrrryyyy,” I sang along to the tune of the music as I put my hand out to her.
“Chris. Stop it,” she whispered, looking around at the few people who were mingling around on their stoops or stopping by the little vendor.
“Come on, Princessa, I know you can move. I’ve seen your show,” I said, taking a chance and grabbing her hand and pulling her to me. With one hand on her lower back, and my other hand tightly grasped onto hers as we pressed our hips together.
“Just sway with the music, Princessa,” I whispered, staring into those endless blue eyes of hers.
Thinking I’d have to lead her along, I started slow, moving one foot forward then back, but she surprised me with a sexy smirk before she picked up the pace and spun, resting her plump little ass firmly against my cock as she swayed to the beat.
The people on their stoops got up, forming a small circle around us, whooping and clapping.
I grabbed Mary’s hand and whirled her around then we moved again, our foreheads pressed together, our movements in sync as we felt the music.
I couldn’t remember the last time I danced with someone other than one of my cousins at a wedding and never had it made my dick swell like it did watching Mary’s hot little body sway to the music.
The chorus picked up for the last time, so I grabbed her hips, lifting her effortlessly and spinning her as the vocals filled the air, the crowd whistling around us.
Mary smiled down at me, the first genuine smile I’d seen on the girl. Slowly I brought her down to a dip, and she put her hands to my face, our breathing in sync as we locked eyes, the song coming to an end.
I couldn’t even enjoy the moment with her because the crowd of people was already clamoring for her autograph and beefcake Brian was trying to pull her away and edging her toward the car as she signed some napkins and took pictures with the different people approaching her who were talking a mile a minute in broken English.
Instead of trying to go through the crowd and fight them, I turned to the vendor and ordered two granitas.
Then it was as if the chocolate frozen goodness was a beacon calling to Mary and she pushed through the crowd until she was right in front of me.
I held up her little Styrofoam cup. “I promised you dessert. I didn’t bargain for dancing too, but it was a nice addition.”
She smirked, grabbing the cup, putting the plastic spoon in her mouth. Those plump read lips surrounded the utensil, and I tried not to think too hard about those same lips wrapped around my cock. I was already in blue ball city as it was and I didn’t want to burst right there in the middle of the street.
“This is a damn good granita, Instagram model,” she said, licking the chocolate off her lips.
God damn, this woman was going to be the death of me.
“You ready, Mary?” Brian asked, a scowl in my direction.
“I, uh, I guess,” she stammered, a flicker of doubt crossing her face before her eyes met mine again. “Brunch tomorrow? We can talk…business…”
Something about the way her pink tongue flickered across her lip when she said business had my stomach doing flip-flops.
I just met this girl.
Danced with her.
Kissed her.
Now I had a fake relationship with her.
A client.
Someone who could make or break my job and quite possibly my dick.
“Brunch it is, Princessa,” I smiled and brought her hand to my lips, kissing it before she disappeared into the car like my Cinderella, dashing away at midnight.
Chapter 6
Mary
I woke up, alone as usual in my bed. More sexually frustrated than I’d been in a long time.
The only cure for that was to reach down my pants or to head for my home gym. Since I was pretty sure I could hear Brain and Lance awake and in the kitchen, I decided the latter was a better idea.
I changed into a pair of yoga pants and a sports bra, pulling my long blonde hair into a bun as I padded from my bedroom to the kitchen.
I’d grown up with my parents in Connecticut in their historic home, with trips to visit relatives with their Upper East Side penthouses that, to me, just looked like old castles with all of their gold and chandeliers.
When I first got the job on Vamps in The City, I was still commuting from my parent's place, and after season one, I was able to buy my open-air penthouse with modern white everything and floor to ceiling windows that practically sparkled on the marble floors and white granite counter tops. This was completely different from the large, rustic mansion I shared with Eddie in Nashville that I knew I’d never go back to.
Brian stood behind the breakfast bar, his biceps bulging as he shook his protein shake. If the guy wasn’t so into Lance, I would take a pass at him. That is if he was into women and we didn’t dry hump for the camera to make a fake sex video.
“Headed to the gym before your brunch?” Lance asked, looking up from the iPad he had perched in front of him as he sat at one of the stools at the breakfast bar.
“You know about brunch?” I asked, quirking an eyebrow before opening my subzero fridge and grabbing a bottle of water.
Brian smirked, setting his shaker bottle on the counter. “Of course I do. I already messaged that PR douche to get the details too. I don’t know what you see in him and whatever this is going on with the two of you, but if I was your publicist, I don’t think I’d be suggesting dating and dancing in Brooklyn.”
I scrunched my nose. This was coming from the guy who agreed to make a fake sex tape with me to make Eddie jealous. Though to be fair, we were all pretty shit-faced, and I was super upset that Eddie wouldn’t come home with me to see my parents for Thanksgiving, or ever visited me in New York. Somehow that ended with all of us in Halloween costumes and seeing how good we could fake a sex scene.
None of us had drunk Fireball since.
“My love life is really none of your business, but if you must know, it’s for the press. And it was my idea. A fake relationship with a normal guy to improve my image,” I said, trying to stand straighter.
Lance let out a ‘hmph’ sound, barely looking up from the iPad. “Well, it’s getting some kind of press, because you’re all over social media right now.”
“What? Really?” I hadn’t even looked at my phone or all of my notifications. Pulling out the slim, smartphone from the pocket of my yoga pants, I searched my name to get millions of hits.
“Actress Mary James was seen dancing in the Brooklyn streets with a mystery man,” I read. “This is good, right?” I asked, looking between the two of them.
Brian shrugged. “I guess. We’ll see if anything comes of it.”
As if Murray knew we were discussing the new publicist, my phone buzzed with his number. I slid the phone up to my ear, answering the call as I stepped out of the kitchen and plopped down on the sofa. The gym and getting out sexual frustrations would have to wait. “Hey, Murray. See the news this morning?”
“Looking at a page now. I see you and the Instagram model went dancing last night. I thought it was just tapas?” Murray asked, his tone questioning.
“We did, and then he suggested dessert and one thing lead to another…”
“Are you sleeping with your publicist, Lourdes?” he asked, point blank. Murray only called me by my real name when he was especially pissed. Mary James was the name I was given when I got my first real acting job on the soap opera, using my middle name and my dad’s first name. Gone was Lourdes Stowe with the light brown hair and freckles and in came the dyed blonde with the fake tan: Mary James.
“I am not! I can’t believe you’d even think that! You knew that sex tape was a fake and the last person I’ve been with was Eddie.” I cringed inwardly, thinking of the fact that my agent knew way too much about my romantic life.
He sighed. “Mary, I’m just looking out for you and your career. If you need me to find another publicist for you, we can.”
“No. It’s fine.
This can be a good thing. Everyone loves someone on the rebound, right? Getting my own Cinderella story?”
I could practically hear Murray’s sweat glistening off his forehead. “If this gets anything. Trending because you were seen dancing doesn’t exactly equal parts for you. I haven’t received any producer calls.”
“Yet. But there’s always hope.”
“For your sake, let’s hope there is.”
We said our goodbyes then I hung up the phone, tilting my head back on the couch.
“Murray not impressed by your dance moves?” Lance asked, stepping into the living room.
“I guess not… I’m going to work out and shower before my fake boyfriend gets here,” I muttered, heading down the hall to now work out my anger instead of horniness.
Hopefully, all of this wouldn’t just be a giant mistake.
Chapter 7
Chris
“Holy shit, dude, you and Mary James are all over the internet, and your Instagram has more followers than your own clients!” Danny said, hitting my shoulder as he walked to his cube by mine.
“Yeah, pretty cool, huh?” I asked, still staring at my phone and the picture looking at me of a smiling Mary in my arms as we danced the salsa.
This was just a fake relationship. She was just a client who needed some PR.
That’s what I kept telling myself at least.
“And a kiss on top of that? Is she your client or your fuck buddy?” Danny raised his eyebrows, peering over his cube.
I shrugged. “Business is business.”
The truth was, all of it meant more to me than I was going to tell my roommate, but I knew he’d give me shit and who knew what Mary thought for sure.
“I’m taking her to brunch this morning.”
Danny laughed. “Nice, man, tax write off and morning pussy.”
“Well when you put it that way, it sounds much more appetizing,” I said, turning on my computer.
I had to get some work done for different social media campaigns, but no matter what website I clicked on, Mary was front and center.
Any publicity was good publicity, and as long as the infamous sex tape wasn’t mentioned, I figured we were on the right path. Work wise at least.
***
I texted Brian, Mary’s bodyguard, to let him know we had reservations at a place near Central Park for brunch. That was half the truth at least, but I wasn’t going to give the guy my entire plan and have him shoot me down.
Mary’s penthouse was in a secured building with a doorman who looked like someone straight out of Curious George but way less smiley.
“Name, sir?” he asked, standing at his stand and staring at me like I was trying to sell him churros on the street corner.
Maybe I should have dressed better than the button down and jeans with my Converse, but I wasn’t thinking clearly either. I didn’t sleep much the night before, my mind reeling back to the way Mary’s body moved against me when we danced and how her body would move in the bedroom.
I had to shake, literally, those thoughts out of both heads.
This was a fake relationship with a client. One who knew how to play it for the cameras. I had to keep telling myself that, no matter how bad I wanted something with her, I just didn’t know what yet.
“Chris Garcia, here for Mary James,” I said, running my fingers over my now shorter buzz. The barber on the Upper East Side charged way more than my guy in Brooklyn, but at least I didn’t look like a guy who couldn’t afford a decent haircut.
The doorman smirked and picked up the phone at his stand, keeping his eye on me as he talked to whoever at the other end. I don’t know if it was Mary or some kind of butler or what. I’d never actually been in a secure building with a doorman, so this was all new territory for me.
The doorman hung up the phone then took a plastic key card, running it through what looked like a credit card machine before handing it to me.
“Ms. James is in the penthouse suite. You’ll need this keycard to get into the elevator and then to her floor,” he said, not even giving the hint of a smile as he handed me the little plastic piece.
“Thanks,” I said, turning and walking through the glass doors that opened before me and a rush of cold air wafted from the lobby.
The newer building was completely white from the walls to the marble flooring that led to two sleek, stainless steel elevators.
I swiped the card against a keypad, and the doors opened. Stepping inside, I again swiped another keypad above all of the other numbers along the wall.
“So this is how the other half lives,” I muttered, looking around the small space as the doors closed around me.
The loft in Brooklyn set me back most of my paycheck, and I shared the small space with two other guys. My parents’ row house in Jersey was attached to my Aunt Rosie’s. My parents, myself, my abuela, my younger brother, and sometimes chickens, all fit within twelve-hundred square feet that my parents were still paying a mortgage on that place after thirty years.
I’d never seen luxury like this and playing with the big dog clients like Mary was going to take some getting used to or maybe I was way over my head.
I expected the elevator doors to open to a small hallway with some other doors, but instead, it opened right into a large white living room with floor-to-ceiling windows that had a better view than my office ever did.
My phone buzzed just as I stepped off the elevator. Thinking it might be my mom, I went to silence it but instead got an alert saying Mary James was the number one trending topic on Twitter.
“Something interesting on that phone of yours?” A gruff voice asked.
I looked up to see Brian walking out of an expansive kitchen with Lance following behind him. Weird how close the bodyguard and driver were.
“Don’t mind them. They’re both just sexually frustrated and need to get back to their own apartment and bang it out,” Mary’s voice carried through the room before she walked down a few steps to the sunken living room.
“They’re place? They’re…umm….?” I pointed between the two hulking men.
“Lovers? Yes. Yes, they are,” Mary said, putting her hand on Brian’s massive bicep.
“We prefer partners, but you know, people don’t need to know the details of the bodyguard and driver’s love life unless they’re client happens to get them drunk and wants to do something to make an ex jealous…” Brian mumbled the last part.
Realization hit me as I looked between the smiling Mary and the two men.
“Wait a second…these guys are the ones from your…?”
Mary sighed. “Yes. The fake sex tape that was supposed to just make Eddie jealous and a hacker got, causing it to go viral. Think you could somehow swing that PR in my favor?” Mary asked, putting her hand on her tiny hip.
Even in jeans and a fitted v-neck, she looked way more put together than any girl I’d ever seen. Though her outfit probably cost more than my rent, looking at her other lavish expenditures.
“Ah, well, you’re currently trending at number one on Twitter, so maybe we can use that to your advantage.”
She smiled, stepping forward and looping her arm through mine. “Shall we discuss this over brunch?”
“Sounds good to me,” I replied.
Brian and Lance started forward, and I put my hand out. “Whoa, boys. I got this one. Why don’t you two take a break? Maybe get out those frustrations as Mary suggested.”
Brian smirked, crossing his arms over his expansive chest. “Mary? You think that’s a good idea?”
Mary nodded, patting my arm. “Don’t worry, Brian. If I need you, I’ll call. And Chris texted you where we’re going and I trust him.”
“At least one of us does,” Lance said with a laugh, but there was no humor to it.
I figured it would be easier to lay everything out with Mary if we didn’t have the two boyfriends around. That and they probably wouldn’t like my brunch plans, just sulking along.
“Shall we go?”
I asked.
Mary grinned. “We shall.”
Chapter 8
Mary
“So where exactly is this place? Brian just said it was near Central Park?” I asked as we stepped into the breezy New York air.
“A quaint little place. Not too far from here,” he said, smiling as if he had a secret.
I raised an eyebrow in question, but he just continued walking.
I didn’t get to walk too much around the city, so I took in the sights and sounds of the hustle and bustle as we made small talk, walking arm and arm to Central Park.
To anyone else, we’d look like old friends, people who had known each other more than one night.
More than one kiss.
More than a few moments of our bodies pressed together that I couldn’t get out of my head.
I was with Eddie for over two years, and I couldn’t remember a time that we ever a danced. A time he made me feel like my body was on fire, yet chilled to the bone at the same time.
This was just a fake relationship. One to get my image back on track.
It’s what I had to repeat over and over, even as I leaned in and got a subtle whiff of Chris’s cologne that reminded me of the ocean air and my parents’ summer place in the Hamptons.
“This is the place.” Chris stopped suddenly. I was so in a daze thinking about his cologne and his lips that I wasn’t paying attention to where we were.
I expected the boathouse or something along those lines, but I didn’t expect a hot dog vendor. Maybe it was a place behind it.
“Um. That’s where we’re having brunch?” I asked, pointing to the little silver cart.
“Yeah. What’s better than a New York dog, walking through central park, and feeding the ducks?” Chris asked, sauntering toward the stand.
I couldn’t remember the last time I had something that wasn’t served on fine china, and I don’t think I’d ever fed any animal, not even my grandmother’s cat.
“And if the ducks aren’t biting, those pigeons will do anything for a crumb,” Chris said with a laugh before walking toward the stand. “Two dogs and two Cokes.”
