Seriously Messed Up: A Laugh Out Loud Romantic Comedy

by Luke Young

  She headed to the door with the book in hand. The clerk standing nearby watched in shock as she walked past her and was a foot from the door.

  The clerk said with concern, “Is there anything else I can help you find?”

  Stopping in her tracks, Natalie shook her head and sighed. “Oh sorry. I’ll just take this.”

  The clerk held out her hand, Natalie handed over the book then followed her to the counter. “Can’t wait to dive right into it, can you?”

  “Uh, no.”

  After scanning the book, the clerk held it up. “I just love the cover. That’s a real ballet move, you know?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “The Rebecca character is a real monster. I don’t want to give anything away, but she’s completely out of her mind.” The clerk whispered, “Into this deviant sex stuff. I, uh, couldn’t put it down though.” Switching gears, she smiled. “Are you one of our reward members?”

  Natalie returned a tired look. “No.”

  “That’ll be thirty fifty-eight.”

  Her jaw dropped. “Thirty dollars?”

  “Yes. It would be about twenty-five, but you don’t have a rewards card. I can sign you up if—”

  “Are these books selling a lot?” Natalie asked with keen interest.

  “We are. I think it could be her biggest seller ever. Her fans have been waiting almost two years for a new book.”

  Wearing an evil grin, Natalie handed over the cash.

  Once she returned to her dorm, Natalie dove into the novel. When she finished at 3:16 a.m., boy was she pissed. She was obviously who the character of Rebecca was based on—she was Rebecca. Hell, only the names were changed. Brice, Ryder and Anastasia were Brian, Rob and Jillian. It was worse than she thought in the bookstore. In the book, Jillian had painted her as a selfish, uncaring, man-manipulating, lunatic, anal sex whore. She flipped to the copyright page and read:

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  “Coincidental, my ass,” she said out loud as she tossed the book on the bed then lay back next to it, overcome with anger and exhaustion, struggling to fall asleep.

  At 10:38 a.m. only hours later, a knock on her door woke her. After signing for an overnight package, she tore it open to find another copy of The Leg Thing. Discovering the Post-it note with the name Rebecca on it, she frowned. She searched the envelope for a return address and could find none.

  Then she picked up the printed articles enclosed with the book and studied them curiously. Curling up on her bed, she read every word. One of the cases caught her attention, where a young man won an undisclosed settlement rumored to be in the six-figure range with a complaint similar to hers. The author involved in that case was nowhere nearly as big as Jillian Grayson. An attorney from New York, quoted in the article, named Josh Roth, handled the case.

  She located the Website of the law firm, clicked on Josh’s picture and found him to be young and attractive. She smiled when she located a recent article featuring him as one of New York’s most eligible bachelors. Twelve hours ago, what seemed like a complete nightmare was looking more like a dream come true. She was already planning how to spend the settlement money.

  12

  Natalie stood at the reception desk of one of the most prestigious law firms in New York City. She wore a pair of super tight jeans and an equally tight top that showed off all her assets. Under her top, she wore a lace miracle bra, which made her look a full cup larger than her God-given Bs. She looked hot.

  The young female receptionist glared at her. “As I told you twice before… Without an appointment, you will not be able to see Mr. Roth. He’s in meetings all day.”

  Growling in disgust, Natalie picked up her copy of The Leg Thing from the counter and glanced around the busy lobby. She paused to think then headed out to the bank of elevators. Leaning against a wall, she watched as attorneys and clients walked in and out of the offices. All the men who walked by gawked at her as they passed, but Josh Roth was the only attorney for her. She’d wait as long as it took.

  Almost ninety minutes later, she saw him leaving the offices, heading right toward her. Springing to life, she rushed to the center of the hall just as Josh hit the button for the elevator. She moved next to him and dropped the book on the floor. After seeing that she didn’t attempt to pick it up, he glanced at her, smiled in surprise at her beauty and happily reached down to retrieve the book.

  As he handed it over, she looked at him curiously. “Aren’t you Josh Roth?”

  “I am.”

  “I read about the Langley-Watson case. I was impressed.”

  “Thank you.”

  When the elevator doors opened she said, “Can I talk to you for a moment?”

  After glancing at his watch, he caught her hopeful expression. “Sure.” He sighed and they moved away from the elevator traffic. “What can I do for you?”

  “It’s a private matter.” Natalie touched his arm and leaned in close. “I promise it won’t take more than five minutes.”

  He stole a quick look at her impressive cleavage. “Five minutes.”

  As she followed him back through the lobby of the firm, she shot a snotty look at the receptionist who was now watching her in astonishment.

  Inside Josh’s office, Natalie sat in an expensive leather chair placed in front of his desk.

  “Now what can I do for you, Miss?” he asked and looked at her expectantly.

  “Natalie Brookhart.” She placed the book on his desk. He picked it up then glanced at the cover.

  She said, “That’s me.”

  “You posed for this picture?”

  “I might as well have. That picture on the cover represents my character in the story. The book’s all about me.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Excitedly, she rattled off quickly, “I can do that ballet pose shown on the cover. I was dating Jaclyn West’s boyfriend when she was writing this book. Her real name’s Jillian Grayson and I just don’t what to do—”

  “Slow down. Relax. Now, what exactly are you trying to tell me?”

  After taking a calming breath, she started again, “I was dating the author’s boyfriend, and her real name is Jillian Grayson.”

  “Okay.”

  “Inside this book are intimate details about my personal life and outright lies about me. You know how in a novel it says some crap about ‘none of this is based on real people or events’?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well it’s mostly based on me and real events. Apparently, I’m the author’s imagination.”

  Picking up the book, he studied the cover, impressed. “You can really do this?”

  She nodded, wearing a proud smile.

  “Wow, you’re flexible.”

  “A lifetime of ballet lessons. I’m very flexible.”

  “Did they use your real name in the book?”

  “No, but it is based on me.”

  “Look, Miss Brookhart, it—”

  “Natalie.”

  “Natalie, it would be very difficult and expensive to prove that the character in this book is based on you.”

  “I can prove it in ten seconds.”

  “How?”

  “By doing the leg thing—would you like to see it?”

  After exhaling deeply, he folded his arms. “Sure, I’d love to see it.”

  Rising from her chair, she checked the logistics of the room. After giving the wide space an approving nod, she moved to the door. “Can I lock this? It would be embarrassing if someone walked in.”

  “All right.”

  She locked the door and moved to stand three feet from him beside his desk. “I also need to take off some of this—do you mind?”

  Suddenly more interested, he widened his eyes waving his hand to give her the go-ahead.

  G
rinning, she slipped off her shoes and jeans. She wore a tiny black lace thong, and he swallowed hard when he saw it. She stretched slowly from one side to the other. His heart beat faster as he watched her. She stood tall, paused, grimaced uncomfortably, then widened her eyes to him as she removed her top. “That’s better.” Her matching black lace bra appeared along with a clear view of her nipples through the sheer fabric.

  “Sorry. I’m used to doing this either in a leotard or, well, nothing.”

  “It’s not a problem.”

  He stared at her, mesmerized, as she slowly rose up on the toes of her right foot; she lifted her left leg until her foot pointed directly at the ceiling. The fabric of her black thong was disappearing and his eyes were desperately trying to find it. He adjusted his suit pants a bit as his glance traveled slowly from her floor-touching toes all the way up to her ceiling-pointing foot.

  “I can hold it this way for ten minutes at least.”

  “Wow.”

  “I used to be able to hold it a lot longer when I was sixteen.”

  “Sure… Uh, how old are you now?” His eyes seemingly screamed ‘please be at least eighteen, please be at least eighteen.’

  “Twenty-one.”

  He smiled, relieved. With his mouth dropping open, his gaze traveled back down, stopping briefly at her breasts then he tilted his head to drink in her backside, but only for a moment before his eyes locked onto the featured item—her beautiful, almost fully on display womanly parts.

  Without a hint of struggle in her voice, she said, “You see, that is me.”

  He held up the cover, glanced at it, then back to her. “It, uh, sure looks like you.”

  After giving him a satisfied smile, she slowly lowered her leg and he, of course, followed it all the way down. She bent over away from him to pick up her top and flashed him a breathtaking view of her heart-shaped, thong-covered backside. Panting slightly, he stared at her body then quickly slid his chair in closer to his desk to hide something possibly brewing in his lap.

  He fumbled with items on his desk stealing glances at her while she slipped on her top, jeans and shoes, then returned to her chair. When she sat in front of him again, he shook his head and gave her a sympathetic smile. “But even if we prove that this is about you, what—”

  “Look, I’m made out to be some lunatic, man-chasing, anal-sex whore who uses men… and toys with their affections. None of it is true. I want her to pay.”

  “Proving damages will be very difficult.”

  “All I ask is that you read the sections that I’ve marked. Read all the stuff about Rebecca. It’s all stolen from my life.”

  “Okay, I’ll read it and get back to you.”

  He stood, but she didn’t make a move to leave. He gave her a look.

  She folded her arms. “I can wait. It should only take you about twenty minutes.”

  “You want me to read it now?” He scoffed. “I was about to grab some lunch.”

  “I’ll bring you anything you want. You stay here and read. I’ll be right back.”

  He sat back in his chair, defeated. Standing, she leaned over his desk with her breasts hanging down deliciously in front of him.

  He stared directly into the valley while she said, “I promise you, once you’ve read it, you’ll see that I have a case. Just give it a quick read.”

  Tearing his eyes away from her cleavage, he looked at her face. “Okay, I’ll take a club sandwich from O’Malley’s on the corner.”

  “You’ve got it.” She slipped out the door.

  He read the marked pages and was a little shocked by all of it. He read how they made fun of Rebecca for being a technical virgin and how Anastasia and Brice made passionate love. The combination of Natalie’s live strip show followed by the erotic prose turned him on more than a little. It was a surprisingly fascinating show and tell.

  When Natalie returned with his sandwich, she stopped at reception and wore a bright smile. The receptionist called Mr. Roth and showed her to his office while wearing a disapproving sneer.

  Once she was back in the chair, he gave her an apologetic look. “It’s a novel, so even if a fictional character is loosely based on a real-life individual, as long as the public cannot identify the real-life individual from the context in which the fictional character is portrayed, there is little risk of liability to the author.”

  “But what if the public can identify the individual?”

  “Well, then you might have a slight chance of winning a case, but only if the individual is defamed in the work.”

  “Oh, I’m defamed all right.”

  “So this technical virgin thing and the other bizarre behavior from this Rebecca character… none of that is true?”

  “Not a word,” she said adamantly, folding her arms and sitting back in her chair.

  “You may very well have a case worth pursuing.” He sighed. “But it’s a long shot and we’d require at least a twenty thousand dollar retainer to begin the process. From there, depending on the path we choose, it could be much more expensive.”

  “Couldn’t you take this on a contingency?”

  He nearly laughed. “We don’t do that here. We’re not a personal injury firm.”

  With a sexy evil glimmer in her eye, she stood, sauntered around the desk and spun his chair toward her. Falling down between his legs, she placed both elbows on his knees with her hands near his belt buckle. “I want you to sue her for every penny she’s made off this book and every other book she’s ever written.”

  He swallowed hard as he looked up to the ceiling. “You, uh, have to be realistic about this kind of thing.”

  She ran her fingers just over the waistband of his pants near his belly button. He looked down to her with his erection straining to be set free. She noticed his condition and grinned. “Don’t you lawyers take those pro bono cases sometimes?”

  “We do, but generally it’s a completely different, uh—” He stopped talking when she held the top of his zipper with one hand and slowly unzipped it with the other.

  “That book is full of hurtful lies. I’ve been so traumatized from it lately that I’ve been acting out sexually.” She gave him sexy smile. “She must pay for putting me through this.”

  “I, uh…”

  “And I don’t manipulate men. I love men and have too much respect for the gender. I would never… ever… do that kind of thing.”

  “I believe you,” he said breathlessly.

  He stopped breathing totally, as she reached into his fly and fished out his swollen penis from his underwear. Pulling it through the flap, she looked at it, impressed. “So will you take my case, counselor?”

  “I would need to talk to my partners about it, but I’d say there’s a real good chance that—”

  She moved her mouth to the base of his penis, extended her tongue, and then licked all the way to the head. Stiffing his entire body, he pushed his head against the back of the chair and gasped. Then he returned his eyes to her, amazed as her tongue traced three-quarters of the way around the throbbing ridge and back again slowly.

  “Fuck,” he moaned.

  She rose up a bit, leaned directly over him then moved her head down over him, swallowing him whole in one motion. Pressing her lips down all the way to his pubic bone, she made him disappear. He gasped. Next, she worked her expert mouth up and down on his length. He struggled with everything he had to keep from yelling out loud.

  Pulling her mouth off him, she wiped her lips. “A good chance or…”

  “I’ll, uh, definitely accept your case.”

  “Pro bono?” She began jerking him off. When he closed his eyes and didn’t answer, she stopped. His eyes shot open and he met her gaze as she stared at him waiting.

  He nodded quickly and stammered, “Yes, pro bono. Yes.”

  Grinning, she plunged her mouth fully over him. He gripped the armrests of his chair nearly hard enough to peel off the expensive leather. His eyes locked on her beautiful lips as they performed t
heir magic. When it was over, he glanced at her, dizzied from the experience.

  “You file the paperwork then we’ll have another celebration.” She smiled. “A bigger one.”

  He nodded slowly as she wiped her lips, stood, adjusted her clothes then headed for the door.

  After putting her hand on the knob, she turned back. “I wrote my name, address and phone number in the book.”

  Then she was gone.

  13

  With three exams that week and a paper due on Friday, no one saw or heard from Victoria the entire time. She had an A in every class and intended to keep it that way.

  Brian’s figure drawing class had ended. He spent thirteen hours a day at the office that week—devoting ten hours each day to company business. However, during early mornings, lunchtimes and after hours, he’d get out his laptop, open up the sexy nude picture of Jillian and sketch her in charcoal with his door securely locked. God, she looked good and his drawing skills were getting better and better. After completing four sketches, he wasn’t happy with any of them. However, the one he was working on currently was nearly finished and it was perfect.

  At Wealth Stone Investments, Carl Rodgers summoned Rob to his office. When he entered, Carl shook his hand, smiled and handed over an envelope. Opening it up, Rob discovered a check for twenty thousand dollars. “Wow. What’s this?”

  “I’ve been tracking your sales. You are killing it out there. It’s just a little extra bonus.” Carl patted him on the shoulder. “Keep it up.”

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Don’t say anything—just keep selling. If there’s anything else you need, just let me know.” Carl gave him a wink. “Do you have your eye on any of the girls over at the complex?”

  Rob scoffed. “I have my eye on all of them.”

  Carl chuckled. “Well sure, but I have a little influence with them, so if there’s one in particular that you like, I could put in a good word for you.”