by Carla Blake
Shit! It’s worse than I thought.
In the back of her limousine, Carrie stared out of the window and picked at one of her false fingernails.
London was in the grip of a cold, fine drizzle, and the modern buildings looked as care worn as their historic counterparts. The rain blurrying the city into one, dismal façade miserable to behold.
With effort, Carrie forced her hands apart and nervously bit her lip, glancing at Carmichael and knowing, thanks to the continued news coverage, that the waiting crowd had now swollen to twice its previous size.
Unconcerned Carmichael raised his glass of champagne and proposed a toast.
“Your very good health.”He said. “And don’t worry! You should take it as a compliment that so many people want to see you. Some of these so-called stars would give their eye teeth for a turn out like this. Cheer up, we’re going to have a great time.”
“Maybe.”Carrie said dubiously. “If we make it inside with our lives. Look at them Barry. There must be thousands! Tell me that’s not scary?!”
Leaning forwards, Carmichael peered out of the window and frowned.
They were now one street away from their destination and the car was beginning to slow down. Forced to a crawl by a bunch of idiots who’d wandered into the road in the hope of a premature gawp and whose shouts of triumph were not completely quelled by the darkened, security glass of the car’s windows.
Hearing the din, he conceeded that Carrie might have a point. The crowd did seem rather large, but on the other hand the rain was distorting his view, making it difficult to ascertain just how many bodies there were, and with a heavy sigh he rapped smartly on the opaque divide between himself and the chauffeur. Waiting for the glass panel to slide smoothly down before addressing their driver, Brick.
Brick was thirty two, darkly skinned and built like an American football player, except Bricks’ padding was all his own. His rather odd name deriving from the fact that he’d once been rumoured to have crushed a house brick to dust with his bare hands, a story that so far, no one had cared to dispute.
“Think we’re going to make this all right?”Carmichael asked him now, noticing how the steering wheel all but disappeared inside Brick’s giant mitts.
The chauffeur nodded. “Leave it to me, Mr. Carmichael. I’ll get you there even if I have to get out of this car and physically move these morons by hand.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that, eh?”Carmichael replied, patting the back of his seat. “And take it steady, there’s no rush. It’s not as if they can start without us.”
Brick voiced his agreement, and flashing a brilliant, white smile of reassurance slide the panel silently back into place, effectively sealing Carmichael and Carrie back inside their leather bound sanctuary.
Around them, the car inched forwards. Halted. Inched forward again. The police converged to protect them and they moved more swiftly, gliding to a halt in a matter of minutes.
“This is it Carrie.”Carmichael said, peering out of the window at the extra security all rushing to surround the car. “All set?”
Unable to trust her voice, Carrie nodded silently and reached for his hand, shuddering. Carmichael might be fine, but she was scared to death! The crowd was too big! Her dress too small! What on earth had she been thinking of, agreeing to wear it? Everyone would laugh at her or hate her for daring to think she could get away with wearing something so minuscule. It was a mistake, a horrible mistake and the people! They were everywhere! Hundreds of them. Pushing and shoving and screaming. It was terrifying!
Clasping her hand, Carmichael squeezed it firmly. “You’ll be fine.”He said. “I’m right here and you look great. It’s even stopped raining.”
A huge shadow loomed outside the car and the door opened, admitting a wave of noise so loud it all but physically forced her back into her seat. Breathless, she sat there, blinking against the onslaught, until Carmichael, a hand wrapped around her arm, gently helped her step out into a plethora of flash bulbs and questions and hundreds and hundreds of screaming, cheering voices.
Instinctively a smile spread across her face and bolstered by Carmichael’s strong, reassuring grip and Brick’s solid back in front of her, she allowed herself to be led across the red carpet. Flash bulbs blazed, the paparazzi yelled. Hundreds of fans screamed her name, their hypnotic chant accompanying her every step as she inched her way along, smiling, waving. Trying to appear confident and in control as she turned this way and that. Wanting to please everybody. Knowing her picture would appear in every one of the tabloids tomorrow and sweeping aside her jacket. Unable to surpress her pleasure when the dress caused a sensation and the press cried out for more. Their lewd comments swiftly followed by hearty laughter and cries for her to take the ‘damn jacket off!’
Ignoring them, Carrie carried on. Her target was just ahead. The double doors leading to the foyer just a few yards away, the idea of getting out of the cold and into the warmth tempting her like a moth to a flame. Already she was shivering and looking down at herself she realised that her nipples were starting to pucker, severe enough to hurt! And if that wasn’t bad enough, the assorted hacks had suddenly decided to drop their semi polite questioning in favour of trying to discover who she was currently screwing. It was enough to make her bloody scream!
But the scream, when it came, wasn’t from her.
Clearly faced with more people than they’d been anticipating, the police barrier suddenly gave way and dozens of excited fans surged forward, trampling over the pristine red carpet and making a bee line for where Carrie now stood on the theatre steps, watching them come in horrified amazement.
Running was not an option. Whichever way she went, the horde would simply run after her, and not only that, but her dress simply wasn’t designed for it. She was stuck and clinging onto Carmichael, she hoped either Brick or the police would soon arrive to prevent her from being pulled to bits. But no one seemed to be coming and they were surging towards her. The unexpected glee in their faces at the opportunity of seeing Carrie Shilling up close and personal almost as frightening as if they’d been bandishing knives and panicked she shook Carmichael, feeling his arm pull her close as he told her everything would be okay and prepared to meet them head on. Pushing and shoving the moment they made contact and all the time yelling for Brick. His arm hugging her close, protecting her, trying to carry her clear. His actions only serving to incite the crowd, as seeing their only chance of meeting Carrie start to slip from their grasp, they went crazy, reaching for her in a frenzied attack. Their fingers pulling and tugging at her jacket until the expensive fabric ripped straight down the seam and it was torn from her body. Leaving her cold and horribly exposed and sickened by the fact that these were her fans that were baying their victory. The priceless souvenir already being fought over.
Cowering in nothing but her flimsy dress, she fought back her terror and slapped away a stanger’s hand, getting a mouthful of abuse for her trouble. The owner swearing loudly in her ear as she struggled to contain her own mounting anger. Where the fuck were the police? And Brick? Where the fuck was Brick! She had hands touching her everywhere! Her back, her sides, groping her fucking tits for Christ’s sake! And no one was helping them!
Her hair was suddenly pulled from behind and feeling it give at the roots, she screamed, tears of hurt springing to her eyes, as Carmichael, his face puce with fury, lashed out at a tall, black youth and missed, the coloured boy melting back into the crowd before his fist could connect. Someone crashed into her back and she stumbled down a step, saved again by Carmichael. A hand grabbed her breast. Another swept across her arse. She was pushed forwards, backwards, every which way. Swear words and declarations of love echoed in her ears. Someone asked her to marry them. A hand wrapped itself around her face and a finger poked her in the eye. She swore and ducked her head, dislodging the hand and wondering how the hell they were ever going to get out of
this?
Then Brick arrived.
From out of nowhere. Wading in like a steam train, his sheer determination to reach them terrifying to watch as he tossed aside body after body, scattering them like skittles. Oblivious to their cries of anger and outrage as he doggedly made his way towards them, clobbering anyone in his path.
Carrie had never been so pleased to see anyone in her life, and finally safe within the shadow of Brick’s enormous bulk, and with the police finally getting in on the action, it wasn’t long before they were standing in the theater foyer, shaking, dishevelled and freezing cold, whilst the police shoved the last of them away and the manager almost gave himself a heart attack trying to apologize profusely enough.
To her amazement, the premiere went ahead as planned. Carrie had no idea how she got through it, and at the party afterwards, during which she sank more Champagne than was strictly good for her, the critics all assured her the film would be met with rave reviews.
The following days’ headlines, however, screamed only of the debacle outside.
CHAPTER FOUR
“Barry.”Carrie said with infinite patience. “I can do this on my own. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I don’t appreciate your help or anything, but I really do think, seeing as I’m the one who’s going to be stuck with this person day in and day out, that I should be the one who hires them.”
Carmichael, seated across the kitchen table from Carrie, helped himself to another of Amanda’s home made cookies and shrugged. “Okay, fine, go ahead. But at least let me place the advert for you. I know exactly how to word it and where to have it circulated. Can I at least do that?”
“Oh, alright, if that’s what you want. But that’s all. No sneaking up here on interview day and trying to listen at the door.”
“Listen to what?”
Strolling into the kitchen in mid conversation, and being as she put it, ‘ naturally nosy’, it wasn’t surprising that Amanda wanted to know what was going on. It also didn’t occur to her that the conversation might be private and therefore not for her ears. If something was going on in her kitchen, then she had every right to know what was being said.
“Barry wants me to hire a bodyguard.”Carrie explained. “In case of another fiasco like the other night.”
“I hope there won’t be another fiasco like the other night!”Amanda said, filling the kettle at the sink. “But I agree with Carmichael, it’s a good idea. Someone tall, dark and handsome would be nice.”
“I was thinking more tall, dark and female.”
Amanda blanched. “Female! A female bodyguard’s no good! You want someone massive, like Brick.”
“Oh, you’d be surprised.”Carmichael cut in. “Some of these lady bodyguards can cut a guy down with just a look! And a female bodyguard guarding a female star does make more sense if you think about it. A male bodyguard is just too easy for the press to torment. Before you know it, the poor guy is pegged down as Carrie’s latest love interest. Whereas another girl…”
Amanda remained doubtful. “I’m not sure.”She said. “I thought the whole idea of having a bodyguard was to have someone who could protect you.”
Carrie and Carmichael both nodded.
“So what’s the point in trying to keep it secret? Surely it would be better to have someone people knew was your bodyguard. Wouldn’t they be less likely to start trouble if they knew there was a guard around?”
“Good point.”Carrie said. “But the thing is, I’m not actually that keen on the idea at all. It all seems so horribly pretentious having personal protection, you know I hate all that ‘look at me, I’m better than you’ stuff. And thinking about it, what good is one person actually going to be? There’s no way a single bodyguard could have done a thing about that mob at the prem!”
“Maybe not.”Carmichael admitted. “But that’s not the point. A bodyguard assigned to look solely out for you would have seen trouble coming and got you out of the way before it had a chance to kick off, especially as it’s pretty obvious we can’t rely on venue security anymore. If it hadn’t been for Brick, we’d probably still be waiting for them to show up. And what, you may ask, were they actually doing while we were being ripped apart? I’ll tell you what. Trying to keep the bloody press from taking pictures! Stuff the fact that you and I were being crushed to bits, they were more interested in duffing up the photographers! I’m sorry Carrie, I appreciate how you feel, but the other night was the final straw. Like it or not, you need someone to look after you.”
Amanda looked suitable impressed. “My! That was quite a speech coming from you. You sure you don’t need to go and have a lie down after that?”
“Only if you come with me.”Carmichael leered. “We could vanish into the night if you like and share intimate cuddles.”
Amanda pulled a face. “I’m not sharing anything with you! I’m old enough to be your mother! And in case you haven’t noticed its still daylight outside! Now stop getting in my way and take yourselves off somewhere else. How am I supposed to get dinner on if you’re lounging all over my counter?”
Carrie obligingly got up from her stool, but Camichael pretended to look hurt. “How can she not want me?”He cried. “And how can she say she’s old enough to be my mother? Auntie maybe, but not my mother!”
Tutting, Amanda slung a tea towel at him.
Later and relaxing in a bath she had wisely allowed Amanda to run, Carrie ran over the bodyguard situation again. She still wasn’t keen on the idea and it didn’t matter if Carmichael bleated on about twenty four hour protection until he was blue in the face, it was different for him. No one recognized him, whereas she had little enough privacy as it was, without having someone practically living in her pocket. But memories of the other night and what could have happened if Brick hadn’t shown up, were causing her to think twice. What if it did happen again? She might not be so lucky a second time. Perhaps Carmichael was right and it was time to enlist a bodyguard. She supposed it wouldn’t hurt to give it a go, just for a few months say to see how she got on, and then, if she really didn’t like having a permanent shadow, at least no one could say she hadn’t tried.
Her mind made up, Carrie slipped beneath the bubbles, enjoying the tickle of warmth, as she squeezed the sponge between her breasts and trailed it up and over her nipples, shuddering with delight when the tiny buds hardened under the soothing caress. Sighing, she rested her head against the back of the tub and released the sponge, using her fingers now to further tease her nipples before allowing her hand to drift over her stomach and down into her dark fluff. Toying with the soft down she eased her fingers into the delicate folds of skin beneath and finding she was wet, a condition not entirely due to the bath water, she probed still further, quickly finding the place of least resistance and sliding a finger deep inside herself before starting to work it in and out. Her other hand trailing across her nipples and leaving a soapy swathe as it joined the first at her pussy and circled her clit, rubbing and stroking until eventually, the pleasure reached its peak and she came.
“Hello there. Just thought I’d give you a bell and see how it’s all going.”
Carrie pulled a face. “Bloody awful, if you must know.”She grumbled, staring out of the window.
It was a cold, blustery November morning, a week after the movie premiere, and sitting in the dining room, Carrie was ploughing through a pile of CV’s. The beginnings of a headache gnawing at her temples whilst her patience slowly wore thin.
Hearing Carmichael’s voice wasn’t helping much either, especially as most of this was his fault.
“Where exactly did you place the advertisement?”She went on. “The latest edition of ‘ Psycho Weekly?”
Carmichael laughed nervously. “Why? What you got?”
“Well.”Carrie said, picking up the pile of discarded resumes. “Let’s see. We’ve got one here who clearly only wants the job because she thinks
I’ll introduce her to wealthy actors. Then there’s one who’s as wide as she’s tall and quite frankly is so ugly she’ll curdle the milk and another who only wants the job if she can have all the school holidays off! For Heaven’s sake, Barry. I’m supposed to be able to pass this person off as my friend! Oh, and did I tell you about Angela? Nice looking, good education. Brilliant career background...”
“Sounds okay so far. What was wrong with her?”
“She’ll only take the job if I can house her aged mother and little sister as well.”
“Ah.”Carmichael said. “Might be pushing her luck a bit there.”
“You’re not kidding. I’m telling you Barry, I’m really beginning to give up hope. This lot are a bunch of nutters!”
Carmichael sympathized. “Well, how about the ones you are going to interview? What are they like?”
“What’s she like you mean, I’ve only got the one. And I’m praying she isn’t as manky as all the rest, otherwise I’m bloody well stuck.”
“Well, what about if I do the interview..”
“Nooo.”
“Okay, in that case, I wish you a lot of luck my sweet. And I really am sorry they’re turning out to be such a lame bunch. I really thought you’d be spoilt for choice.”
“So did I. Now please, go away. I have a headache the size of the grand canyon and I would like to just sit here and suffer in peace.”
Her name was Andrea Stone and she arrived four days after Carrie had happily consigned most of the CV’s to the bin and had tentatively sent out a letter inviting her for an interview. So far, though, it wasn’t going all that badly.
Andrea had arrived on time for one thing and had not seemed at all rattled by the fact that Carrie had answered the door herself. Smartly dressed in a charcoal grey trouser suit and standing just over five foot eight inches tall, she had run a hand through her fashionable short hair and confidently followed Carrie into the lounge. Settling herself on the sofa before proceeding to give Carrie the low down on her career.
