Filthy Dirty Laundry Vol. 2

by Kailin Gow

  “So you don't actually want me to sleep with another man, then?” I tease.

  Philip frowns. “Your decisions are your own, Sidney. But – I admit, if you chose to do that, I would be...very jealous indeed. Have some discretion, and...”

  “And what?” I ask.

  “Don't forget – it's only an act. Don't get caught up in the flirting and... He runs his fingers through his hair. “For fuck's sake, don't go sleeping with every guy you meet. Hell, don't sleep with any guy you meet but me...”

  I smile at him, teasing gently. “So, Philip LaFleur, the great big womanizer, who gets with every girl in sight, is telling me....don't enjoy flirting with other men, touching them? Letting them hold me...kiss me...like you do?”

  He kisses me deeply.

  “Nobody can ever kiss you the way I do,” he murmurs into my neck. Then he smiles. “It would bother me,” he says in a clearer voice. “But I want you to get a shot at this story, and I won't let my personal feelings get in the way of business.”

  I look down and then at Philip. “Of course,” I smile back at him. “Strictly business. Like last night...”

  “We were...a bit unprofessional last night,” he smiles back wickedly.

  “Were we, sir?”

  He closes his eyes, flush with arousal.

  “You and I – we may have broken a few Guinness World Record A little bit of wine – and suddenly you're not quite the blushing virgin are you, Sidney? Long, passionate kisses. Singing, dancing, stripping...the things you do with your tongue...”

  It's my turn to blush.

  “Don't be silly,” he laughs. “I liked it. If I didn't....I'd make sure to punish you...” He slaps my ass again: a ringing, sexy sting.

  “Now, off you go to Vegas!”

  Chapter 3

  The rest of the morning passes by in an incredible haze. Philip drives to Johnson's house – an expensive apartment in a good side of town which I'm almost embarrassed by, so little does it resemble my own more modest circumstances. He rings up.

  Johnson comes down, still half-getting-dressed. I can tell that he's woken up only a few moments before. His eyes are still bleary and sleepy; he's wearing a tight athletic T-shirt that shows off his considerable musculature. I’ve never noticed before but he looks pretty sexy with his unshaven half-asleep look. He blinks at me and Philip in surprise.

  “Boss,” he says, taken aback. “What are you doing here?”

  Philip smiles darkly. “I thought I'd give you both a ride to the airport. So much the better to be able to ensure you're both caught up on the rumors about Mitch Conway...”

  “There are plenty of those,” Johnson sighs. “The guy seems really sketchy, personally. But this whole thing about the abuse allegations coming out right before his big game when no such allegations have come out before? It's pretty weird, to be honest. And I'd been curious to know why the actual girlfriend in question isn't coming forward. It makes me wonder...”

  “You have a good journalistic sense,” says Philip. “That's exactly what I've been thinking about too.”

  Still, Johnson is looking at Philip with a curious, even jealous expression. Like he really, really doesn't like the fact that Philip drove me over here. Does he know – I wonder. Can he suspect? Does he have any idea that I have spent the night at Philip LaFleur's not once, but twice in a row? I feel like my pleasure, my blushing ecstasy, must be written all over my fact. I feel like it must be impossible for anyone to avoid seeing precisely how wild Philip has driven me. I try to avoid both Johnson and Philip's eyes so that nobody suspects what's really going on.

  Philip and Johnson continue on chatting as Philip fills Johnson in on the story. There's something weird, I think, about the way they're interacting. Both are behaving with barely concealed hostility towards the other. Philip is supercilious and condescending towards Johnson; Johnson, for his part, is sulky, sullen, and defensive.

  When we arrive at the airport, I'm pleased to see that Philip has booked us both first-class tickets. Part of me was afraid that he'd start showing me favoritism – put me in first class and stick Johnson in coach. But luckily he's too much of a smooth operator to risk letting anyone make accusations of unfairness. Whatever special privileges I get from being Philip LaFleur's lover happen, blessedly, behind closed doors.

  Philip wishes us both goodbye. He claps Johnson on the shoulder as Johnson goes through security. Then, he grabs my wrist, holding me back.

  “Wait,” he says.

  He pulls me in for a close hug. He brushes his lips ever so lightly against my cheeks and my eyes, whispering to me in a heated, intense voice: “I wish I could be there in Vegas with you this weekend. Alas, I have some...family matters I have to take care of. Which is a shame, because I really want to continue what we started last night.”

  “As do I,” I admit, blushing. My cheeks feel hot to the touch. Can he feel how warm he's making me, I wonder.

  “If you remember what I said last night, you'll know what I wanted for you. Take care of yourself. Work well with Johnson – and protect yourself. And do your best. Take care of yourself, Miss Stone, and I'll see you soon.”

  Then abruptly he pushes me towards security. I turn back and he's already gone, vanished.

  Johnson and I spend the whole flight sitting together. I'm surprised to find that he's quiet, mournful, unlike his usual self. The normal chipper, cheerful Johnson seems to be completely absent from this lethargic stranger. I try to make idle conversation, typical small talk chit chat, but to no avail. Johnson just stares out of the window, not looking at me.

  At last he sighs and glances in my direction. His eyes are full of worry. “I don't get it...” he says at last. “Something's weird about all of this. Don't get me wrong, Sid, I'm so glad to be working with you on a story like this, but...something seems weird. Why assign both of us to this? I thought it was a cut and dry story.”

  “That can't be,” I say. “You know as well as I do – there's some digging.”

  “We find the girlfriend or we don't find the girlfriend. Either way, the story's simple. She is either telling the truth or not.”

  “But me – I can get close to him.”

  “Close to Conway?” Johnson gives a disgusted scoff. “He seems like a real slimeball. Having a secret girlfriend...that's sleazy enough, given the number of girls he's publicly been linked to. He's always surrounded by bottle girls and bimbos. What does Philip expect you to do – shove your breasts into his face?”

  “That's harsh, Johnson,” I say, taken aback. I've never heard him use language like that before.

  “I'm sorry,” Johnson sighs. “I didn't mean it like that, Sid. I'm just worried. I'm worried that Philip wants you to like get Conway's attention – and believe me, the only way to get Conway's attention is to throw yourself at him like an escort or something...

  “Ugh, what a creep,” I say, making a face. I grimace. “He sounds exactly like the kind of guy who would abuse his girlfriend.”

  “That's not exactly the kind of guy I feel great about you hanging out with, Sid,” says Johnson. “If you get close to a guy like that – who knows, you could end up with bruises too? Get too close and – I'm just saying, the guy's a professional fighter.”

  “I'm not going to get too close, Johnson,” I roll my eyes. He's always so over-the-top protective of me – he doesn't have to be! “You've been watching too many cirme shows. I'm not going to end up with bruises, Johnson. I'm not going to end up his girlfriend, am I?”

  “How do I know what Philip wants you to do?” Johnson says darkly. “Whatever he says...you seem to do it.”

  I look at the airplane floor so as not to reveal my blushes to Jonson. Little does he know that the idea of doing exactly what Philip wants me to do turns me on beyond belief and reduces me to a puddle of need.

  “Just be careful, Sid,” Johnson says. He takes my hand. “If there's nothing to the story – that's fine. Give up. Go home. Don't put yourself at risk digging deep wi
th a creep like that just for a story. If something comes up, anything at all, let me know.” He takes my hand and cups it with both of his. “I want to protect you, Sidney. I always have and I always will.” He looks into my eyes with such desperate longing. I feel the need to protect him, too. I wish I could protect him from the pain, the hurt. I know that my affair with Philip will hurt him...and I hate that it will. I feel like I'm living in terror of him experiencing that pain. But I can't stop. I won't stop. I just wish...I sigh. I guess I just wish all this was easier.

  “Thank you, Johnson,” I whisper. “I promise, I'll have your back too.”

  In less than an hour we touch down in Vegas. A car is waiting to take us to our suites at the MGM. My mouth falls open when I see mine, across the corridor from Johnson's. It's the most luxurious, most beautiful place I've ever seen in my entire life. I could never afford to stay here on my own, not in a million years. I sit on the bed, feeling the smooth sheets beneath my fingers. This is extraordinary, I think. Overwhelming. A girl like me – in a place like this? These places are for the Philip LaFleur's of the world, not for me.

  I change into the only other clothes I have with me – my yoga gear. I didn't have time to go home after my night with Philip, so I only have the clothes I wore to interview the dog trainer. Stupid, I think.

  But no sooner do I think that than I hear a knock on my door.

  “Johnson?” I go to the door, wondering what he could want already.

  But instead, it's a young, pretty girl with blonde hair neatly tucked into a clerk's uniform cap. “Miss Stone?” She smiles at me.

  “...yes?”

  “Mr. LaFleur ordered a few things for you.”

  “Where?”

  “Here!” She points to a trolley outside the door, laden down with shopping bags. Brand names that make my jaw drop. Hermes, Lanvin, Chloé, Chanel.

  The most exquisite collection of dresses and leisure wear – at once mindboggling expensive and elegantly understated. Classic.

  “I can't....I can't afford these...” I blush, hoping she won't judge me too hard for saying so.

  “No, miss,” says the clerk. “They're already paid for. Shall I bring them in?”

  “Oh, uh, sure.”

  I boggle as she lays down each garment bag on the bed. Top-of-the-line exercise wear. Simple lilac sheath dresses. Chanel sweaters. A Hermès bag. A diamond-studded gold lace mini dress that looks like it has real gemstones embedded within. And...could it be? I blush. Lingerie from Fredrick's of Hollywood and La Perla.

  Lingerie that looks so damn easy to tear off.

  Oh, Philip, I wonder, sighing aloud as the clerk leaves. What are you getting me into?

  It's like he can read my mind. No sooner do I think that than my phone buzzes. Philip is calling.

  “You like it?”

  “Oh...” I'm not sure what to say. “I mean – I love them, Philip, but I don't understand...”

  “Annie's my personal shopper. Been using her for years.”

  “But Philip, the expense!”

  “Don't worry about that. Tell me how you look in them.”

  “In which one?”

  “I don't know. Pick your favorite.”

  I change into the gold lace mini dress with the diamond studs. I'd expected to look ridiculous: like a little girl in her mother's clothing. But instead, to my surprise, I look....beautiful? Can it be?

  “I've got to admit, Philip,” I say smiling. “I like this one. They look beautiful.”

  “That's because you're beautiful,” says Philip. “Nothing could look bad on you, Sidney. Now take a picture on your phone of your dress and send it over.”

  I blush. “Philip...”

  “Do it,” he says. “I ask very little in return. All the gifts are yours to keep. All I want in exchange is a picture to savor you in.”

  I send him a picture I take in the mirror, grinning like a schoolgirl all the while.

  “Hm...” I can hear him groan with desire on the other end of the line. “Oof, Sidney. I didn't think you'd look sexier in anything but that hot little pink number you wore for me last night, but this really does the trick. That gold dress, why, Sidney, it makes me want to take you and bend you over and fuck you from behind right in the middle of that hotel room...”

  “Philip!” I'm half-embarrassed, half-turned on.

  “I knew you'd like the sound of that,” Philip says. “But damn, you look so delicious, I can't help it. Try on everything – send me photos.”

  “Even the lingerie?”

  “Especially the lingerie.”

  I do what he says. Trying on each dress – letting him see me from all angles. It's a curiously exhilarating process. I imagine his eyes on me as I change, lingering on my nakedness, devouring me fully. And nothing in my life has turned me on so much. At last I've slipped down into the lingerie and I start sending him photos of that, too. The most dangerous and daring thing I've found in my life. And the most arousing.

  “Damn....” Philip purrs. “Fine lingerie suits you. Now...if I could get you to take them off and take one more photo...”

  “Philip,” I giggle. “Come on – you know it's not safe...” I've seen nude phone hacks before. They were practically our stock in trade at FDL.

  “I don't use cloud storage on this phone,” he says. “They're perfectly secure. Now...”

  I'm interrupted by a knock at the door.

  “Saved by the bell,” I tease. “That must be Johnson. And you don't want him to see me in these, do you?”

  “Careful what you say, Miss Stone, or I'm going to have to give you a proper spanking when you get back.”

  I laugh. “Till later, sir.” I hang up the phone before he can respond.

  Chapter 4

  I hurriedly put on the most casual of the dresses: the simple lilac and pink sheath. “Just a minute,” I call, sweeping back my hair into a makeshift pinned chignon and putting on the pair of shoes Philip has bought me. I've never worn Louboutins before, and I almost fall over on my way to the door.

  I open the door to see a handsome, clean-cut young man with wavy brunette hair and warm hazel eyes standing before me.

  “Hi...” I look confusedly at him. He doesn't look like another clerk. In fact, he looks far too well-dressed to be anything but a patron at this hotel. “Uh...can I help you?”

  “I'm sorry...” the guy looks just as startled as I feel. “I was given this room number. See, I was told there was kinda like this...party going on in the room? But..” He catches an eyeful of my ten days' worth of clothes strewn over the bed. “I'm kinda guessing this isn't the room. I'm very sorry, Miss.”

  “That's fine,” I say. “Don't worry about it. There's only a few suites on this floor, so you can't be too far off. It won't be too hard to find if it's up here. Let me see the room number.” The handwriting on the piece of paper he’s holding is all but illegible.

  “I thought it said 518,” says the handsome young man.

  I squint. “Maybe it's 513? I can't really tell.” A party – in a suite? I start to get thinking. Maybe this is the party Mitch Conway is going to.

  “I'm supposed to go to that same party,” I lie automatically. “Maybe we can help each other out.”

  “I don't mean to disturb you,” says the man shyly. “But that's probably the best way to find out for now. I know I'm late already...”

  I look down at his hands. They're all bandaged up, wrapped up liked a mummy's. “Let me help you look,” I say. “Let's start just across the hall.”

  I cross the hall and knock on Johnson's room.

  “Hi!” I poke my head in. “Is this where the party is?”

  “What are you...” Johnson furrows his brow, confused. Then he remembers: we're supposed to pretend like we don't know each other. We're total strangers here. “Oh. Uh. Sorry. No.” His eyes take me in – the new dress, the sexy heels. I can see the hunger and desire in his gaze.

  “I guess not!” I say brightly. “I guess the party
I heard about must be in some other room on this floor.”

  Johnson nods and winks. “Okay,” he says. “Sorry I couldn't help more.” Under his breath he whispers. “Text me.”

  The man and I walk all the way up and down the corridor. But all of the rooms are empty – or else nobody's answering.

  “I'm sorry...” the guy looks down shyly at me. “I didn't mean to make you do all that knocking.”

  “That's okay,” I say. “I'm just disappointed. I heard there was a party on this floor too...”

  “No, wait!” The guy says. He points to the end of the hall: two double doors. “We haven't tried that room yet.”

  I nod, and we knock.

  The doors open, and there before us is a man in a T-shirt. He looks surprised. “Hey, man,” he says to my companion. “What's going on – you lose your key or something? Why are you knocking, you fool?”

  “Because...” my new friend is blushing. “We heard there was this party to attend, and we're knocking on every single door to find it....”

  The guy bursts out laughing. “You're kidding me, right? Conway, you're one damn crazy guy to be knocking on all the doors when you pretty much know the shit always goes down at your place?”

  My jaw drops for the third time since arriving at MGM. How did I not recognize Mitch Conway early? But this sweet-looking, almost dopey guy looks nothing like the guy I've seen on TV. I don't know if it's makeup or photoshop or what, but I wouldn't have been able to identify Mitch Conway in a lineup.

  “Well, I guess we found the party, huh?” Conway smiles at me. I'm officially creeped out. What kind of guy forgets that the party is in his own room? He seems kind out of it, I notice. Could it be drugs?

  “Yeah...” I say cautiously. “At your own place.”

  Conway looks down and his face turns bright tomato red. “Shit, I forgot my own room number. I was coming, coming up from the bar downstairs when they gave me this one...if it ain't my own room! Shit, I haven't been this stupid in a while.” He looks up, dazed, at the guy who opened the door for us. “Shit, Connor, you think I'm losing it again?”