by Angel Devlin
She turned to me. “I’m not here to be fun. I’m here to be your Personal Assistant. And that’s because you’ve already had far too much fun.”
“I’ve only had sex three times since I arrived.”
“Which was this morning, right?” She shook her head. “Anyway, I’m not interested in who you’re sleeping with. Just that you attend your rehearsals and appointments in a timely fashion and don’t do anything to jeopardize what Janie has worked so hard to arrange.”
“If I promise to do everything and not sleep with anyone else, will you let me bang you before you go home?”
She turned back to the movie, pressed resume and didn’t speak to me again until the movie ended.
I sat staring at the ceiling and wondered what to do. I decided to get out of bed and see what was in her underwear drawer. I sniffed her panties right in front of her and she still didn’t move her face from the movie or speak.
Next, I stripped my boxers off, letting my huge cock spring out and put a pair of her panties on, and gyrated in front of the bed.
She picked up her phone, took a photo, placed it back down and carried on watching the movie.
Taking off her panties, I got on the bed with my boner and put her panties on her head.
No response.
I sat playing with my cock.
Nothing.
The credits from the movie rolled and Harlow got out of bed, put her pjs back on and then came around my side.
Before I knew what was happening, I was in a headlock and my naked body was being dragged to the door.
She opened it. Dear Holy Jesus. How much strength did this lass have?
I was thrown into the corridor, naked as the day I was born.
Three women were coming out of a room four doors down. They gasped.
“Ladies. Fergus McDermott. Up for a fourway if you’re interested. Though to be honest, yes it’s big, but he doesn’t know what to do with it.”
Then she stepped back into her suite letting the door bang closed.
Ha, see, new PA, I got a bang anyway… just not the one I’d envisaged.
One of the women asked if I wanted to come back to hers, to borrow a towel. Strangely enough, I wasn’t interested. Instead I took a huge vase of flowers off the side and strolled back to my own suite with it held in front of the crown jewels. My mind was full of thoughts of my new PA, wishing the time would hurry around to 8am when I’d see her again—pity she’d be fully clothed.
Fergus
The knock came to my door at 8am sharp.
“Come in.” I said standing in the hall of my suite. I was already up and dressed in jeans and a dark blue t-shirt. My hair was still damp from the shower.
The door pushed open and Harlow walked in. Her brown hair was sleekly styled and came almost to her shoulders. She wore makeup, making that pink pout even pinker and fuller looking. Alas, she was fully dressed in a gray pant suit that covered up her glorious figure. She carried a pen and a notebook. How quaint. Everything was usually done electronically.
“Good morning, Mr. McDermott. Can we go through your schedule?”
Oh Lord. First, my libido noted the pink pout; second, she called me Mr. McDermott. My mind spun with thoughts of dominating Harlow and ordering her to drop to her knees.
I cleared my throat and thought about Brussel sprouts which made me want to puke. “Please, call me Fergus.”
“Okay, Fergus. So could we go through your schedule?” She repeated.
“Yes, of course. Let’s go through to the living room area.” I indicated under an archway and she followed me through, taking a seat on the couch. I sat at the other side.
“Have you had breakfast?” I asked her.
She shrugged. “I grabbed a quick coffee, but my body is confused with the change of time zone.”
I picked up the phone, ordering a selection of cooked breakfast items, pastries and fruit, plus coffee.
“Shouldn’t I being doing that?” Harlow said with a smirk to her lips.
I wasn’t sure what was wrong with me. Maybe I was coming down with something, but all my innuendo and sharp wit seemed to have deserted me and yes, she should have been doing everything I asked including bending over the couch. I scratched my head, like it might move my brain cells around.
“So what do I need to do today?” I asked.
Harlow nodded her head. “Right, yes. Yes. So…” She flicked at her jotter, turning over pages before settling on one.
“Ten am, it’s over to the Arena for rehearsals. Six pm, it’s the question-and-answer session with the VIPs. Then it’s mingling with the VIPs while they enjoy a buffet, and then it’s their photo opportunity.”
“Oh God.” I groaned. “They tell you none of this when you decide to be a guitarist. That you might get famous and have to have your photo taken over and over with middle-aged women who can’t stop fondling your arse.”
“Oh my heart bleeds.” Harlow rolled her eyes. Then she closed her mouth and put her hand across it. “My apologies, that was unprofessional.”
I guffawed with laughter. “Oh, Harlow. Can we please start again today? I don’t want a prim and proper personal assistant. I like you, you’re ballsy. Be my PA and be yourself. Please?”
“Oh thank fuck. I wasn’t sure I could keep that up much longer.” Harlow lounged back against the couch.
“So basically, get some breakfast and then get yourself to rehearsals, and then suck it up later Mr. Rock Star because these people paid for the privilege of spending time with you. Please don’t reveal you’re a total jerk and disappoint them.”
“Much better personal assisting. Now we’re getting somewhere. Anything else?”
“Yeah, can I have some of that breakfast when it comes. I’m fucking ravenous.”
“I already ate, babes. It’s all for you.”
“I’m not your babe.”
“Okay, bestie.”
“I’m not your bestie either.”
“Oh yes you are. I might not be yours, but you’re mine. I say so and that’s final.”
“Is this because you have no other friends?” She asked.
Then a knock came to the door heralding the arrival of breakfast.
Harlow
Well, this morning had not been what I had expected at all. Fergus wanted us to carry on with the easy banter we’d started the night before. I’d wanted to hate him after the way he’d treated his previous personal assistants, but it was proving impossible. He had a cheeky Irish charm. Totally laid back and easygoing, he’d gone straight to rehearsals without complaint and he’d told me the only job he wanted me to do was watch. So I’d pulled up a chair and done exactly that.
I’d gone a little star-struck when I’d met the Black brothers, and Fergus had shaken his head at me with a ‘give me strength’ expression on his face. To be honest, the brothers had barely nodded their head in my direction. Not because they were rude, but because they also had full schedules and a concert to rehearse for.
Once those band members were on that stage there was nothing but them and their music. I watched Fergus create complete magic with his guitar and when he joined in on vocals, his voice set my skin on fire.
Shit. I could not develop a crush on Fergus Fuckaddict McDermott. It was jetlag messing with my head and the hypnotic elements of being so close to where the magic happened. Today was Monday 11 March and on Sunday 17th there would be thousands here to watch their idols in concert on St. Patrick’s Day. On Monday, exactly one week today, I flew home.
Then do whatever the fuck you want this week.
Where had that thought come from? I most certainly would not. Janie had asked me here to keep Fergus in line and that was exactly what I’d do.
I picked up my jotter and my cell and made calls back with the hotel to find out what Fergus was required to do later for the VIP buffet. I had the other PA’s in a group chat, and we discussed what the individual band members needed to wear etc, so they looked the best they coul
d and matched for the photo opp. I needed to do whatever I could to distract myself from the band on stage, and one guitarist in particular.
The Question and Answer session, VIP mingling, and photo shoot passed without incident. I didn’t see any evidence of Janie’s complaints of Fergus being awkward and her having told me his timekeeping and behavior were usually deplorable.
All finished, Fergus came to find me.
“Have I done for the evening? Only my arse is bruised it’s been nipped that many times. Can you massage it for me?”
“In your dreams.”
“God, I hope so. Is there a way to tell your dreams what you want to dream about? Because if so, tonight it’s about your hand—”
“Going around your throat and tightening, if you carry on.” I consulted my jotter. “The rest of the evening is yours. You’re free to do as you wish, but if you could note that you have press interviews starting at 9am tomorrow so you’ll need to be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.”
“If we fuck right now, I’d be bushy-tailed.”
“That gets one out of ten. Pathetic.”
Fergus sighed. “Well, I’m bored of hanging around my suite, and I don’t want to be near any more guests. I’m peopled out. Me and the band are getting sick of the sight of each other, so how about you accompany me around the grounds of this place? I could use some fresh air.”
“I’m sure you can walk unassisted.”
He shook his head. “No. What if I walk around and I’m hit with inspiration? You need to carry that pen and jotter in case I need them.”
“You want me to walk around the grounds with you, in case you need a pen and paper?”
“And because you’re my bestie.” He said, smiling his cheeky grin at me. I was about to insist on going back to my own room when he did something I’d not prepared myself for. He lifted up his glasses. His green eyes twinkled as he grinned.
“Pretty please?” He said.
I was powerless to protest.
I felt lasered.
Harlow
"Mmm, God. Yes, yes, yeaaaassss."
Fergus' mouth was fixed on my pussy as his tongue swept my warm depths. Those green eyes twinkled as he stared into my own.
I exploded. Wave after wave washing over me.
BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP.
Huh?
I woke from sleep to realize a) Fergus was not in my bed and b) I'd dreamed he was and had actually come in my sleep. I’d had a sex dream!
Leaning back against my pillows, I felt both guilty and very, very relaxed.
The walk in the grounds last night had been nice. Yes, Fergus had littered the conversation with innuendo, but he'd also told me a lot about growing up in Ireland and how the guys had first got together. He'd confessed that in some ways he missed the days of small intimate gigs in pubs and being able to visit a café for a fry up without being mobbed. I’d got to see a side of him that I thought many didn't.
When we'd said goodnight, he'd kissed me on the cheek and thanked me for being his 'bestie'. I was starting to think that the only thing wrong with Fergus was he missed having 'real' people around him.
Oh my god, I bet that's how he was with everyone. Gave them the 'vulnerable' Fergus and the next thing you knew your panties were in a bush and he was in yours. For heaven's sake, Harlow. Get the job done and get back home.
Dragging myself out of bed, I headed for the shower, doing my best to block out the flashes of sex dreams that kept coming to mind.
This morning it was the press interviews. All the band sat in what was called a 'drawing room' in the castle. It was elaborately and ornately furnished, and I was waiting for the Queen herself to walk in. The journalists came in one at a time to ask their pre-agreed questions, although Fergus had told me every single journo would always try for an exclusive and have to be warned off.
The pathetic behavior of most of the female journalists was not lost on me, and I offered a coffee and cookie to the ones who managed to remain professional. The rest I handed a glass of water and imagined I'd urinated in it. Fergus had asked me to keep the band and journalists hydrated and keep the interviews timely. The rest of the PA's were off doing other assigned tasks. While the first interview had been taking place, I'd pinched myself in the thigh to see if I was really here in this castle with a rock band, feet away from my crushes, the Black brothers.
I'd felt eyes on me and looked up to see Fergus had seen me pinch my leg. I’d scratched it as if I’d had an itch. He'd mimed that I was going insane by twirling his fingers, so I’d stuck my tongue out. I’d noticed the journalist, a male, look from Fergus to me with a quizzical expression on his face.
When the band broke for lunch, I made sure they had what they needed and then I went outside for some fresh air. I'd been there ten minutes when arms went around me, and I screamed.
"Ow, my eardrums."
"Janieeeeeee." I squished my friend. "I thought you'd abandoned me here with that lunatic, leaving me wine and strawberries. As if they make up for seeing my best friend." I shoved her in the arm.
"Well, I'm so fucking busy, I had no idea if I would manage to catch up with you. I literally only have an hour max now. But a couple of my boys messaged me with something that I had to come see for myself, so I'm going to sit in on the first interview of the afternoon."
"What is it? Is there a problem?" I worried, a frown line appearing between my eyebrows.
"No, not at all. Stop that, I'm not paying for your Botox." She rubbed the skin between my eyes. "I'm just checking the interviews are progressing as they should."
We went back inside and Janie greeted the guys and sat in on the first interview. Then she grinned as the interviewer left, said, 'I'll be damned," gave a thumbs up to the band and left.
I sent her a text.
Harlow: Don't leave me in suspense. WTF was that all about?
Janie: I'll tell you after the interviews.
Harlow: Bitch.
When they'd finished I texted her again.
Harlow: Okay, they're done. Now spill.
My phone rang.
"Harlow, babe. Something you want to tell me?"
"About what?"
"You and my Fergy. What have you done to him?"
"Janie. I have no idea what you're talking about. Get to the point, will you?"
She laughed down the line.
"Fergus just stayed through a whole stream of interviews. He never lasts beyond the first two usually without walking out declaring himself bored. He has a reputation of being a dramatic diva. Not only did he stay, but he answered all of the questions, although it could be argued that his attention was not on the journalists. And the biggest shocker of them all—a complete exclusive, should the journos have been paying attention—is that he did not take one single phone number from a female during that whole day."
"And your point is?"
"This is unprecedented, Harlow. He seems to have gotten himself a crush on my bestie."
My heart thudded.
"Don't be ridiculous."
"No? Then why did two of the band ask if there was something going on between the two of you because you couldn't stop staring at each other, and Fergus never left, and never tried to seduce a female in the whole of the day."
"Maybe he felt ill?"
"He felt something, Harls. I do believe my little Fergy is falling for my best friend."
"That's ridiculous. He's obviously just playing a game to get in my pants. It's what he does with PA's, remember?"
"No. He doesn't moon after his conquests. He just orders them to drop their panties and they do. Then he fucks them and fucks off. He doesn't give a damn about them. I don't think he learned half of their names."
"Well, I won't be doing anything with Fergus McDermott. I told you before, his cock needs a bleach bath. Now go and get on with your work; you keep telling me how busy you are."
"You can deny it, babes, but I've seen it with my own eyes."
I hung up and tur
ned around to find Fergus standing behind me. His usual smile was gone, replaced by something I'd never seen and I didn't like. A cocky sneer.
"Can you make sure my bedroom has a drawer full of condoms, and that there's some bleach handy in the bathroom?"
"Fergus. I—"
"You can have the rest of the night off. And tomorrow. I only have rehearsals. I've no need of you. In fact, I don't need you at all. Feck off, Harlow."
And with that he was gone.
Fergus
Well that showed me.
I thought Harlow was different. With her being out of the circus that surrounded me, I'd found her a genuine breath of fresh air.
I'd started to fall for her, and I thought she might have started to like me.
How wrong I was. She thought my dick needed bathing in bleach.
She was probably right.
But right now, it hurt. More than a bleach bath would to my cock I should imagine. So it was time to go back to being Fergus McDermott, rock star. They thought I was a car crash; I might as well act like they expected. I took a bottle of Jack from behind the bar and walked out. One of the journalists from earlier, a perky-titted blonde, was sitting at a table. When she saw me, she smiled coyly and ran a finger around the rim of her cocktail glass. Did she really think I was fooled by the innocent play-acting? She was here for a band member’s cock and an exclusive.
Well, I'd hate to disappoint.
I beckoned her with my finger and asked the bartender for two tumblers.
Harlow
We'd all been assembled in the drawing room. All the band, all the personal assistants, and anyone else connected with Team Blackthorn.
"We're days away from the concert and our guitarist has gone AWOL." Janie hissed. "Has anyone seen anything of him or heard from him?"
No one had.
A felt a heavy stone sensation in the pit of my stomach.
