Single, Cool, and Fine: How to Get Laid as an Ex-Teen Idol

by Lux Zakari

  “We don’t get a lot of celebrities in here, let alone sexy ones.” The dark-skinned woman circled the counter to approach them, the crimson nametag clinging to her low-cut shirt reading Ace. “Does your girlfriend wear lingerie, James?”

  “Wife,” Bridget interjected before he could respond. “He’s married.”

  “But getting a divorce,” he added and cleared his throat, hoping his voice hadn’t actually gained the dark quality he feared it had. “We’re separated.”

  “Oh no.” Ace smiled, like the news just kept getting better and better. “That’s awful.”

  “The poor guy must be so depressed.” The other woman—Desiree—jutted out her lower lip. “I wish there was something to do to cheer him up.”

  Bridget’s confused, suspicious gaze bounced between the three of them, especially when Ace locked the door and Desiree gave the window drapes a tug, the fabric falling shut. James’ breath hitched in his chest.

  “I know.” Desiree snapped her fingers. “How about we put on a private lingerie fashion show? That should lift everyone’s mood.”

  “A lingerie fashion show!” Ace clapped, and James felt much like doing the same. “What do you say, Bridg?” She draped an arm around the young woman’s shoulder.

  Bridget pouted, clearly unhappy not have James to herself any longer. But when she sneaked him a glance, a tiny albeit nervous smile danced on her lips. “Okay.” She paused. “What about customers though? The sign says we’ll be back in five minutes.”

  “Look at that.” Ace moved to the door, picked up the Be Back At… sign, and gave the plastic clock hands a flick with her zebra-striped nails. “Now it says we’ll be back in fifty.”

  Desiree moved toward James, a twitch to her hips as she beckoned with a crooked finger. “Right this way, sir.”

  James let himself be escorted onto the chaise lounge facing the three dressing rooms. He dropped his backpack on the floor and reclined like a king on his throne. Meanwhile, Ace and Desiree scurried around the shop, yanking things off the rack and dragging shy, reluctant Bridget around with them.

  Then someone draped a silky camisole over his face and purred, “No peeking!”

  The volume on the stereo rose, and the first strains of Aerosmith’s “Rag Doll” met his ears. He couldn’t fight the stupid grin on his face. This was straight out of his adolescent fantasies.

  “All right,” he heard Ace murmur after a few agonizing minutes of waiting. “Open those baby blues, hon.”

  James tore the camisole off his face and drank in the sight of Ace wearing a black robe edged in scarlet lace and ending where her sheer thigh-high stockings began. Red open-toed heels with frou-frou feathers graced her feet, and she opened her robe to reveal a black mesh-and-lace chemise with a plunging neckline. As if the sight of her weren’t sexy enough, the way she stared at him made him swallow hard. His body warmed from the heated intensity of Ace’s stare as she studied him silently. He’d never been assessed with such an unguarded look before.

  Just when he didn’t think life could be improved upon, Desiree appeared, a sapphire-blue corset clinging to her torso and a matching G-string barely covering her ass. Stockings held in place with a garter belt and strappy rhinestone high-heels finished off the look, and nearly finished off James.

  Ace turned to Desiree, and the women assessed each other with appraising, approving looks that James could tell were not for his benefit. The electricity that passed between them proved Bridget’s earlier comment about their involvement, and when they wound their arms around each other and touched tongues, no further doubt remained.

  James watched, mystified and agape, as Desiree let out a satisfied whimper as Ace sucked on her lower lip. Ace peeled off Desiree’s corset, revealing Desiree’s small pink nipples, which Ace stroked in a circular motion until they rose to attention. Again Desiree released a needy whine.

  Then Bridget emerged from her dressing room. James realized he’d nearly forgotten about her, what with all the action unfolding before him. But when he saw her, he knew she’d be difficult to forget. She looked stunning in a white ruffled bra and panty set edged in light blue ribbon. Like Desiree, she also wore thigh-high stockings, although hers were white, like her shiny heeled Mary Janes.

  She twirled for him, slow and shy. “What do you think?” she asked, tossing the question over her shoulder as she treated him to the view of her cute little ass cheeks peeping from under ruffled boy shorts. “Like it?”

  Did he. James was so turned on, it disturbed him. Unease spiked through him as he realized right then how much Bridget reminded him of Greer, all long dark hair, bashful movements, and curves that were so hot they were ridiculous. Longing rippled through his body out acquired habit.

  His jaw tightened. He preferred the other women. They reminded him of no one.

  Desiree moaned as Ace’s lips closed around one of her nipples. She squeezed her eyes shut and returned the favor, stroking Ace’s clit through her panties. With her tongue still flicking over Desiree’s breasts, Ace groaned and tugged down Desiree’s G-string, leaving the dark-haired woman naked sans for her stockings and her heels.

  Bridget glanced to the front of James’ pants and licked her lips. He was startled by the hazy desire burning in her blue eyes, a look that zipped straight to his cock.

  Ace pushed Desiree face forward over the opposite end of the pink chaise lounge and disrobed completely. She pinched her own dark nipples, grinning with self-derived pleasure. Her ass in the air, Desiree cast a look at James and crooked a finger at him, and trembling, he slid across the seat toward them, his lap within inches of Desiree’s mouth. Desiree undid James’ belt buckle, and when she dragged his zipper down, his mouth went dry. To what degree would this escalate? Did he really need to wonder?

  As Desiree took hold of and languidly fisted his cock, Ace produced a strap-on from out of nowhere, a belt that clasped around her waist and supported the girth of a quavering, lifelike dildo. The sight of it sent a bolt of fear through him. There was no way she planned on using that on him, right? He watched with trepidation as she adjusted it to fit her body and gave it a few strokes, as if the appendage were her own. Her thumb lovingly circled the head, milking a few drops of imaginary pre-come.

  Ace nudged Desiree forward, an act that scooted James all way back against the chaise lounge again. Desiree crawled across the piece of furniture on all fours with her head between his legs and Ace behind her, teasing Desiree’s glistening opening with her makeshift shaft. A pleading noise sounded in the back of Desiree’s throat as she wriggled, lifting her bare ass in the air.

  Unable to take the tease anymore, James’ impulses took over and he thought he’d try his luck. He clamped a hand on the back of Desiree’s head and pulled her closer to his cock. Desiree’s mouth wrapped around the shining, thick head, and James groaned in response. If Desiree really was more into women than men, it was a shame. God, she knew what she was doing.

  Ace flipped a switch and the dildo whirred to life. The dark-skinned woman released an appreciative sound and dipped the head of the dildo inside Desiree, who moaned with her mouth full of James and her hands massaging his balls. James sucked in a breath. He could almost imagine feeling the dildo’s vibrations on Desiree’s tongue.

  Meanwhile, Bridget stood watching, transfixed, as James lifted his hips, urging Desiree to take more of him between her lips while Ace slowly slid the rest of the way into Desiree, who whinnied in response. He tangled his hands in Desiree’s black hair, pulling it away from her face and granting Bridget a full view of his tight balls and his cock, slick with saliva. Ace continued to slide in and out of Desiree in smooth measured strokes, eliciting a moan with every thrust and matching it with her own.

  His gaze flicked to Bridget, and again he was startled by how much she reminded him of Greer. He raised a hand to her, beckoning, and she approached the chaise lounge. Then he grabbed her wrist and pulled her toward him with a force surprising the both of them. His strokes were
bold and full of confidence as he touched her smooth, bare thigh, pulling a moan from her.

  “I want you naked,” he murmured.

  Bridget obeyed, shimmying out of the bra and letting her breasts pop free. Her panties followed, and even though she stood there completely bereft of clothing, in comparison to the other women she still looked positively chaste. James let out a hungry groan as his fingers quested for her clit, and Bridget released a trembling sigh like she’d been holding it back for years.

  James’ breathing became labored as his fingers slipped inside her slick opening. Bridget moaned and glanced at Desiree, still lapping at James’ purpling cock, and Ace, who wore a grimace of pleasure as her thrusts increased in velocity. The room hummed with the sounds of the vibrating dildo, Desiree’s slurps, and their collective groans and whimpers.

  Bridget’s hips bucked against the steady rhythm he’d created and she sucked in gulps of air as shivers wracked her body. James could feel her tightening around his fingers. Desiree’s stifled, escalating shrieks and Ace shuddering with a guttural growl triggered his orgasm at last. He gritted his teeth as he came in Desiree’s mouth, seconds before she lifted her head and screamed her own release.

  James drew his hand away from Bridget, who released a wail of disappointment. But he had plans to reward her patience. He rose and zipped up his pants as Desiree and Ace slumped to the pink carpet, heaving sighs of pleasure. Then he advanced on Bridget, never breaking eye contact and enjoying the sight of her visible gulp, as well as the view from all sides as she backed into her dressing room’s mirror. He followed her inside the small space, yanked the curtain shut, and kissed her, his tongue sweeping into her mouth and finding a moan. Her fingernails dug into his upper arms, pulling him closer, but instead he stepped away and dropped to his knees.

  “What’re you—oh.” Bridget groaned as he hitched one of her legs over his shoulder and touched her clit with his tongue.

  James closed his eyes, well aware he’d never gone down on a woman other than Greer before, but from the sounds Bridget was making, he wasn’t doing so bad. She even sounded like Greer, and he hated how that turned him on all over again.

  His tongue explored the soft folds of her pussy and he slid a finger inside her. He felt the tremor in her sex as he plunged in and out of her slippery entry, listening to her vocal enthusiasm climb and border on mania. Her passion lent him a kind of confidence he hadn’t ever really known. His lips closed over her clit and he sucked gently, giving it a small flick every now and then until she trembled and creamed around his hand.

  James stood slowly, dragging his palms up the sides of her body and savoring the feel of her. He finally pressed a kiss to her lips, partially in relief. He was pleased, not so much with her but with himself. Every time he made a new girl come, something inside him strengthened. His faith in himself steeled a little more, and he became more and more convinced he didn’t need Greer.

  At least for a few hours. Then would come the moments before sleep when ghosts and bad feelings would return to haunt him. Just the reminder of the inevitable put a dent in his freshly acquired armor of self-satisfaction.

  “Oh my God.” Bridget put her fingers to her mouth and her eyes grew wide with comprehension. “James Venora just ate me out. And it was awesome!”

  He tried to smile. Now there was a story fit for a blog.

  Blame James (blame_james) wrote,

  @ 2012-07-21 19:34:32

  The Peak of Fineness

  CLAUDIA: You often talk about James’ “return to single, cool, and fine,” so I have to ask—when was he ever all three, especially at once?

  E.Y.: That’s a great question. As you know, I’ve always been a James girl. When Venora first became famous, he was the dream for me—rattail and all. And if I’m truly honest, there’s just something about him. Despite all his shortcomings, he’s still obscenely fine, in all nations, in every language, to every eyeball, hands down across the universe. He’s probably even fine to aliens, grandpas, schoolteachers, nuns, Mormons, horses, earthworms, and Jesus. Nobody can deny his hotness. I’ll sign a contract on that fact. For me, his peak was circa the time when he was photographed on a vintage loveseat with Bijou Light. That pic is such a tragedy and an achievement all rolled into one. It’s like the last great picture of the high school quarterback before he gets in a horrible, horrible accident and is deformed for life.

  CLAUDIA: That Bijou picture was taken right before Greer got pregnant and James embarked upon his scarf phase—which he’s still in.

  E.Y.: I have to say I’ve always been surprised that James, who would breathe rhythms and melodies if he could, didn’t marry a musician, i.e., someone like Bijou. Why would he never have any interest in a girl like him—a creative type who knew what the biz was all about? He never even dabbled in it. What’s the deal?

  CLAUDIA: It’s really not that surprising. Another talented, successful force would probably be a threat to James, who has a total god complex. Besides, can you imagine a famous, artsy girl musician thinking James Venora is steering his career in the right direction?

  E.Y.: …which brings me back to Bijou Light. Why did that never happen? That would’ve been hot if they hooked up.

  CLAUDIA: Legend has it Bijou was kind of obsessed with him but nothing came of it, then she wrote all these songs about him and he was, in true James fashion, oblivious. Then again, I kind of can’t blame him, since he was in the midst of getting married with a kid on the way. But that’s just what I heard. What do I know?

  E.Y.: This conversation is intriguing me and I’m awaiting the next bit with my chin on my fists. So why wasn’t he into her? Was she too spicy for him?

  CLAUDIA: Probably. She was on the cover of Maxim once. Someone being on the cover of a JC Penney catalog is too spicy for James. I know he attended some party in honor of the cover, but I don’t think he ever pursued her.

  E.Y.: Is that party where those candid pics of him and her on that vintage loveseat came from? And he’s wearing a corduroy newsboy cap and a turtleneck, and she’s in some skanky dress?

  CLAUDIA: Yeah, she was looking hot as usual, and he was in a newsboy cap. You can see why the affair never panned out.

  E.Y.: Wait! I just Googled Bijou Light and found out she’s having a record release party in Nashville on the same night James will be in town, playing his last date on Heartlines’ tour. This is it! This is the golden opportunity. Who said there’s no such thing as a second chance? Someone tell James his destiny awaits him!

  Chapter Six

  E.Y. called on July 23, the last day of the tour. “Did you know Bijou Light is going to be in Nashville tonight?”

  “Um.” In his hotel room, James racked his memory, trying to recall if he did, in fact, know that. He couldn’t remember anyone telling him, but it was entirely possible. His mind was like a sieve these days—like every day preceding them, if he were to be honest.

  E.Y. didn’t wait for a response. “You need to go for this.”

  “Go for what?”

  “Bijou Light. Come on, focus here. Make your move. Right some wrongs.”

  “What wrongs?”

  E.Y.’s sigh seemed to last hours. “I can’t deal with you being so obtuse right now. Here’s Wade.”

  He heard the phone exchange hands, and then came his brother’s voice. “You gotta nail Bijou Light.”

  “Why’s this?”

  “Because. E.Y. and a small group of your fan base think you missed out on a golden opportunity, like, ten years ago when she was obviously hot for you but you were too busy living on Planet James to notice.”

  James forced his feeble memory into overtime and tried to remember what happened before he and Greer were married. It was a lost, hazy time of which he had little recollection; it was another person’s life. He did, however, recall meeting Bijou Light backstage during a taping of “Total Request Live.” He told her he liked the song she wrote, an upbeat number about—what else?—love. The compliment had triggered al
l the charming, intoxicating parts of her personality, like her bubbly vivacity and her broad smile. Next thing he knew, she was tugging him in the photo booth and inviting him to a party to celebrate her being on the cover of Maxim, a strategic move on her part to get the world to see her in a new light and not just the Canadian-Asian girl-next-door type.

  After he’d gone to her party and had an uneventful time—he’d only stayed for an hour to make the rounds and congratulate Bijou; Greer had been texting him nonstop with complaints—he and Bijou had been in contact about writing a song together. However, when news of his marriage and Greer’s pregnancy hit, Bijou’s phone calls had abruptly stopped. He’d thought it odd at the time, but in lieu of his brother’s news… “Huh.”

  “E.Y.’s insisting you punch your weight.”

  “What does that mean?” James had trouble keeping the edge from his voice.

  “It means you need to fuck someone who’s your equal for once, not some lovesick, star-struck fan who’ll do anything you ask. Not someone content to wait in the wings. Someone with her own life going on, one that doesn’t revolve around you.”

  James’ resentment mounted. He was getting pretty sick of hearing about who he should and shouldn’t sleep with. Somehow he never got it right even when he followed the advice to a tee. “Right, I’ll keep that in mind. Later.”

  He hung up on his brother but found it no less satisfying than just dealing with him. In fact, it only made him feel lonely.

  James had the sudden urge to call Greer and complain to her about Wade. She’d always heard him out on the matter before with a knowing smile on her face, then followed it up with something like, “What do you expect? He’s Wade.” It wasn’t a lot but it had always been enough. Even now, just the thought of her shrugging and saying that defused his anger and intensified his want to hear her voice—but for what purpose? There was no way they could have a real-life conversation that resembled what he wanted, especially since he had no idea what that was.