Sweetest Sin: Bad Boy Bundle

by Delilah Wilde

  Finally, she pulled out a short stack of glossy magazines.

  “And I picked up these because my new collection is being featured in all of them. God Savannah, can you imagine what our eighteen-year-old selves would think if they saw us now? They would be amazed at all we've achieved,” she said, her eyes glimmering. Christ, she really was pushing it now. Maybe her teenage self would be happy, but teenage Savannah would be pissed off.

  I glanced down at the magazines.

  “Mind if I take a look?” I said, because it seemed like the polite thing to say. Also, I was feeling nosy. I'd avoided Rochelle's collection up until now, but curiosity finally overtook my envy. Rochelle nodded eagerly, handing me one of the magazines.

  “Page twenty two,” she said, “There's a six page spread.”

  “That's great,” I grinned, flicking through the pages. My hands were shaking at the unfairness of it all. It wasn't Rochelle's fault. She was a talented designer and she'd gotten the right break. Where was my big break? With each year that passed it seemed less and less likely that I would make it big.

  I flipped past the sex tips, the make up tutorials and the many advertisements. I stopped at page twenty, just before Rochelle's spread because something caught my eye. It was the celebrity gossip.

  “It's page twenty two, honey,” said Rochelle, sounding mildly annoyed. I ignored her and stared at the page in front of me. Celebrities had never interested me. I had never understood the appeal and so I read about them as infrequently as I could possibly manage. Maybe that's why I was so surprised to see Dane in the center of the page. He was leaving a hotel with some blonde on his arms. She had her head down but he was looking up, smirking at the cameras. Just like he'd smirked at me. The caption read 'He's got a type: Action hero Dane Reynolds caught cavorting with another mystery blonde. We predict sales of bleach are about to sky rocket!”

  Jesus Christ. He was someone. Rochelle peered at the page.

  “Dane Reynolds is just gorgeous, isn't he? You know since New York fashion week I've been meeting celebrities left right and center, but somehow he's escaped me. You know I've heard he goes drinking in this town? Isn't that crazy! Imagine running into him,” she sighed, “He doesn't seem like the settling down type, does he? I suppose the good looking ones never are. Anyway, here's my spread.”

  She forcibly turned the page and made me look at her designs, though I was still shaking from what I had just seen. Imagine running into him? I wanted to say 'imagine getting fucked by him' but I figured I'd keep it to myself. I wouldn't believe me.

  Rochelle's designs were not very different to what she had done in design school, though there was less puckering around the zippers. She used a palette of steel grays, cool beiges and khakis accented by leather panels. Combined with the models' messy hairstyles and minimal makeup it looked great. That was the truth of it all. Rochelle was glossy magazine material. I was not.

  “Wow, it all looks amazing,” I said, genuinely this time, “I'm so happy for you!” She pulled me into another fragrant hug.

  “You have no idea how much it means to hear that! Jesus, I spent all of design school competing with you. To tell you the truth, I don't think I won very often. It's crazy to believe that I got to fashion week and you didn't,” she said. I couldn't stop myself from frowning. After all, what else could I do?

  Rochelle gasped when she saw my expression.

  “Oh, no, no, no! I worded that wrong. What I meant to say is that I can't believe I made it to fashion week before you. Yeah, before you. Come on honey, it's inevitable. I'm sure once you get up there I'll be old news and all the movie stars will be dying to wear your gowns,” she said, without a hint of sarcasm. She was being patronizing of course, but I liked to hear it anyway. No matter how unrealistic it all was.

  We said our goodbyes and she reiterated what I fantastic designer she thought I was. She even left me keep the magazine.

  “That way you can pull out the picture of Dane and stick it on your wall,” she teased.

  Chapter Two

  Dane

  Being away from Hollywood was pretty great. Sure, I still got recognized but small town fans were a lot easier to deal with. A lot of the time, they didn't even approach me. I just heard them whispering and saw them pointing. The ones that were brave enough to talk to me always got my best smile and a photo to use as their profile picture. It was nice and relaxed. Hollywood was a whole different story. I'd have to return in a few weeks but for now I was enjoying my time off. Another thing I especially loved about small towns were the women. Girls in Hollywood were all right, but most of them had boob jobs before they'd turned twenty one and considered eating a piece of fruit a treat. It was so dull. Small town girls had character. It didn't feel like I was fucking the same girl every night.

  I returned to The Black Horse the next night. It was my favorite kind of bar. Quiet, with good drinks and better conversation. Good old Jack knew exactly what he was doing and always had a crazy story or two to tell. He liked hearing about my adventures on set and he especially liked hearing about my escapades with women. Who could blame him? After all, there were a lot of them.

  “Hey Dane,” said Jack, as soon as I stepped in. The only other patrons were a group of girls. They were sitting where Savannah and I had sat yesterday at the booth. Judging by the fluffy tiaras they were wearing and penises that they had face painted on, they were having a bachelorette party. I hoped they hadn't recognized me but, judging by the way they had all looked up as soon as I entered the room that wasn't likely.

  I tried to ignore them and took my usual seat at the bar. “Hey Jack,” I said, “How's it going buddy?”

  “Pretty good,” he said, beaming, “That redhead at the bachelorette party gave me her number!” “Sweet, how bout a drink to celebrate?” I asked. Jack grinned.

  “What'll it be?”

  I ordered a shot of whiskey to get started with. I'd always preferred beer, but tonight something was telling me to try some whiskey again. As soon as I slugged it down I knew why. It tasted like Savannah's tongue had felt in my mouth.

  “So, did that girl get home all right? You know, the mean one with the insane rack?” asked Jack. I laughed at his apt description. Savannah was mean all right, but those tits made up for it. That was without even mentioning her ass.

  “She did,” I tried not to brag but I couldn't help adding, “I escorted her right to her bedroom door.” Jack put his hand on his hip and shook his head at me in disbelief.

  “How did I know? Jesus Christ, I thought we finally found the one smart girl in the world who won't drop her panties for you. I guess I was wrong,” said Jack. Jack, bless his heart, was much more relationship oriented than I was. He was only thirty but already divorced. He'd married his childhood sweetheart as soon as they could legally do it. They'd split up after six years when she realized that actually, she liked women as much as he did. Ever since Jack had been trying to replace her, no matter how much I tried to convince him to play the field. He disapproved of my wild antics but couldn't stop asking about them. I expected that he liked to live vicariously through my adventures.

  “Yup, dead wrong. How about another whiskey and I'll tell you all about it,” I said. Jack sighed and nodded.

  “How was it?” he asked. Just remembering it almost made me hard but I managed to reel it in for now. If I didn't fuck someone else tonight then I would definitely be jerking off later.

  “It was fucking mind blowing. I don't know, in my experience the bitchiest girls always fuck the best,” I said. Jack handed me my drink. He was leaning forward now, obviously fascinated. “Oh yeah? Why's that?” he asked. I knocked back my drink.

  “I think it's because they have all this pent up energy that they have to get out. The insults are just foreplay to them. Once you get them alone, they turn into crazy nymphos who worship cock. That makes sense, right?” I said. Jack rolled his eyes.

  “That can be your thesis subject,” he said, “I'm sure it'll go down
very well with feminists across the world.”

  Before I could offer a rebuttal a felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around to see a tall, slim brunette with olive skin and freckles. The only thing hindering her beauty was the white veil on her head and the giant dick drawn on her cheek in sharpie.

  “Excuse me, are you Dane Reynolds?” she asked. Her friends were watching giggling in the background. As if she had to ask.

  “Yes,” I said, fixing my best movie star smile, “That's me.”

  She looked back at her friends and squealed before looking back to me.

  “Um, this might sound weird but would you like to have drinks with us? I'm getting married tomorrow so we're just celebrating and, well, I've always been a huge fan of yours. Ever since Bounty Hunter 2,” she mumbled. Ah, that made sense. Bounty Hunter 2 was one of my earlier movies. It contained three times as much gore as the first film, but somehow I knew that wasn't why she liked it so much. It was also the first movie that I'd appeared naked in. I'd gained a lot of fans from it.

  I peered at the bride's friends. They were all pretty hot and most likely single. If they weren't it didn't matter to me. I'd probably screw the bride too if she was up for it.

  “Sure sweetheart,” I said, “I'll have a drink or two.”

  The other girls actually screamed when I made my way over to the table with Rachel, the future bride. They were obviously big fans. The other four introduced themselves though I forgot their names as soon as they said them. That was all right though. All I had to do was smile, flirt a little and quote my movies and they were in heaven.

  Sitting with the bachelorette party was a stark contrast from sitting with Savannah. She had been insulting, irritated and unaware of my movie star status. These girls bought me drink after drink, sang my praises and and laughed at every stupid joke I told. It was nice, I guess.

  Rachel got to sat next to me because she was the bride, though the other girls complained at first. “Don't worry ladies,” I said, “There's plenty of me to go around.”

  They all screamed delightedly and stopped complaining. We were on our fourth round of drinks and talking about how we filmed love scenes when things got interesting.

  “It must be so awkward being naked with a stranger like that,” said the redhead who had given Jack her number, “Especially in front of everyone when you know it's being filmed. I couldn't do it.”

  I shrugged.

  “It's nothing. Once you do your first one they're not scary at all. The set is always closed so only the people who really get to be there see it. Though I think a few interns snuck onto the set of my last love scene,” I said, and they all laughed, “They give you a little sock to put your cock in to make sure that you stay decent. Kind of ironic really because you feel more exposed with that shit on you than if you were butt ass naked. It's weird as hell but it's just the way things are.”

  Rachel leaned into me, exposing a lot of her cleavage in her tight tank top.

  “Do you ever get turned on during the scenes? What with all the beautiful actresses and everything?” she asked. One of her friends told her that she couldn't ask that but Rachel shushed her.

  “Nah, it's all right. To be honest there's so much adrenaline pumping that getting my dick wet is the last thing I'm thinking about -for once!” I said. They all burst into peels of laughter again and one of them ran to the bar to get me another drink.

  Under the table, I felt a hand move from my knee to my thigh, snaking its way up. I kept a straight face, wondering if this was just a joke on Rachel's part. When she gave the crotch of my pants a firm squeeze I knew that she wasn't kidding.

  She gave me a demure smile as her friends continued to babble on about my shitty movies. Normally, I would have found some way to get her alone and maybe fuck her in the back room. Jack wouldn't mind too much, though he'd complain a little. Some people might say that it was an immoral thing to do but I didn't really care. Rachel wasn't married yet and she'd come onto me. Her relationship was none of my business. It was rare that I turned down pussy when it was served up to me so easily like that.

  However, it seemed that tonight wasn't a normal night. Without even thinking I took Rachel's hand away and put it in her lap. She looked at me in surprise and I shook my head. Not tonight.

  I stood up and all the girl's groaned.

  “I'm sorry ladies, but I really gotta go. It was great to meet you but I have an early morning tomorrow,” I said. They all protested, insisting that I finish my drink and come to the club with them. It sounded tempting but I refused. My mind was made up.

  “No really, I would if I could but my manager would kill me,” I said. Their protests ended when I agreed to give every one of them a kiss on the cheek to say goodbye. Rachel was last and at the last moment, she turned her head so my lips landed on hers. I pulled away in an instant though her friends were cheering and clapping. I pitied the man who got her as a wife. A girl like that couldn't stay faithful if her life depended on it. You could bet that if she had no problem coming onto a movie star that coming onto a regular Joe would come naturally as well.

  Just as I reached the door she ran up to me and shoved something into my hand, before giving me another kiss on the cheek. She ran back to her friends, who were all still giggling and waving at me. I waved back and didn't check the note until I stepped outside. There, in Rachel's cursive handwriting were the words she had been keeping in all night.

  Dane,

  I'm staying in room 419 in the North Plaza hotel, alone. I'm going to pretend to be tired and go home after you leave. Meet me there and I'll let you do whatever you want to me. I'm not married yet.

  Love, Rachel xxx

  I looked at the note for a long time. For some reason that I could not fathom, I tore it up and threw it in the trash. Jerking off just seemed like a good option tonight.

  Savannah

  I stared at Dane's photograph for a long time, doing my best to convince myself that he wasn't the man I had slept with. Maybe he was just a lookalike, trying to use his association with a movie star to get laid. No, that was ridiculous. Dane's tattoos in the photograph were the exact same as they had been in real life. That smile, arrogant but charming was certainly the same. I had slept with a movie star. It was so unreal.

  Sure, I was no monster but I wasn't Hollywood pretty by any means. My thighs touched and my stomach never managed to be completely flat, despite how petite I was. The mystery blonde in the photograph was exactly the kind of woman you'd expect Dane to associate with. Graceful as a gazelle with long legs, a perfect suntan and a dress perfectly tailored to her slim frame. She was perfect. They all were. Every actress and model in the magazine looked better bare faced than I would with ten pounds of makeup. Dane was probably surrounded by these women every day. If he was as much of a superstar as the magazine made him out to be he probably had his pick of them.

  Why would he settle for a boring small town girl like me?

  I eventually came to the conclusion that sleeping with a normal girl was what sleeping with a supermodel was to a regular guy. A fantasy, something that he thought he would never get to do. Fucking me probably raised his self esteem. When he compared my human body to his perfectly chiseled abs and tattooed biceps he must have felt great. That was it.

  I was over thinking, of course. I should have just been happy and left it at that. I'd had a nice time with a hot guy and come out of it with my heart intact and a story to tell my friends. I could tell the tabloids too, if I was desperate for money but that didn't sound appealing.

  I tried to take my mind off Dane by putting the magazine on top of my wardrobe. Out of sight, out of mind. I grabbed Mansfield Park and a blanket or two and made myself a steaming mug of hot chocolate. Under normal circumstances, cozy reading time with a hot drink in hand was my idea of heaven. No stupid employers yelling at me or men screwing me over. Just me and Jane Austen in a whole different world. It was perfect. At least, it should have been.

  I just couldn't f
ocus. The words on the page blurred and I found myself reading the same paragraph over and over again. Even my hot chocolate didn't taste right.

  “Fuck this,” I thought, “I'm going on a walk.”

  The sun was only barely beginning to set so I had time to wander around the neighborhood before all the drunks and junkies came out to play. In the gentle light of dusk the street actually looked somewhat pretty. I wasn't filled with my usual sense of despair as I walked through it.

  I stopped by a few of the nearby stores, picking myself up a cartoon of milk and forcing myself to resist picking up another magazine with Dane's face on it. I lingered outside the liquor store for a moment, dithering over whether I should treat myself to a bottle of wine. This morning I'd sworn off alcohol for life, but it had just become tempting again. Fuck it, I was an adult. Cheap wine was one of the few luxurious I could actually afford. I marched myself into the liquor store and grabbed the bottle with the lowest price, fully intending to go straight to the cashier. However, something else caught my eye.

  In the corner of the liquor store they had a small section of DVDs that customers could rent. I'd never taken notice of it before as none of the movies appeared to be made before 1986. Now it intrigued me.