Eight weeks I had with this spunky schoolgirl.
All I wanted to do was spank my monkey hard and fast, letting it shoot all over her tits. Or bend her over that chair and pound into her while I smacked that round little butt.
I shouldn’t have been having these thoughts about my fluffer. I quickly remembered I didn’t need to unload on cam today, and instantly I grew harder, certain I might explode if she didn’t stop bouncing on me. I could feel her warmth and dampness, brushing against me in a teasing flutter.
She was wet.
And that was not always the case with the fluffs, but she wasn’t like the others. She grabbed fistfuls of my shoulder length blonde hair and breathed against my lip. And that was when I felt a smidgen of wet heat soak the inside of my underwear. This damn girl was going to have me losing it without doing anything more than a lap dance.
I closed my eyes and told myself that I was Cyclone Blonde, twenty-seven-year-old male entertainer, and then I reminded myself of the commas in my bank account. When I reopened my eyes, her gorgeous tits were on either side of my face. I tilted my head back, forgetting temporarily that I was her boss and I could tell her to stop and she would.
But I didn’t want her to.
I wanted to bury my face in her fleshiness, pick her up, and fuck her all afternoon. I regretted ever hiring actress, Lele Love. While she might have had a tremendous following, I couldn’t stand the bitch. She did nothing for me and nothing for my johnson.
Pure fake shit.
I realized as the nymph continued to mash her body into mine that this was okay, detesting Lele. I could save it for Mae because girls like her would kill to be on the arm of a guy like me—fame and fortune with the security of a hunk.
Placing my hands on her lower back, I broke the spell of her seduction, pulling her briefly out of it. “Would you like to catch dinner and a movie later?”
She let out a squeal with the most beautiful, honest smile I had ever seen. Mae revealed a little dimple on her left side when she grinned that big. “I would love to!”
I wasn’t prepared at all for what came next, and to this day it stood as the moment I knew she was the one. She didn’t continue to rock on me, or grope my sack, or even kiss me. In the softest of voices, she whimpered, “Thank you, Sir.”
Eight weeks would kill me.
Dead.
AMBER
I CAN’T BELIEVE I sent him away, but I can’t handle the chance of losing Cy – Dale Archer – again. I don’t know if he remembers me. I was just some young fluffer on the set of one of his many movies. I was nobody, and I doubt he remembers me at all. I was so young back then… I think as I am shoving things into my bag.
Stanis is waiting right outside my room. He will insure I get to the airport and home to the ranch. Life will return to normal without any jealous bitches or Dale Archer.
Due to the mass exodus of authors, I am stuck waiting for a limo or even a cab to the airport. I peer around at all the clusters of women, everyone seems to have a friend. All but one—me.
I leave my bags with Stanis and meander to the relatively empty front desk, sliding a cool hundred to the young man. “Excuse me, do you know if Dale Archer has checked out yet?”
“Yes, Ma’am. He checked out very early this morning,” he says, pocketing the bill and scanning his computer.
“Do you happen to know how he left? Or if I can get a hold of him? I have something of his I need to return.”
“He left on his motorcycle. I only know because he took off as I came into work early, I knew it would be a big day with all the authors.”
I nod. “Contact number?”
“He paid with cash. Even left extra for any incidental charges, so we have no contact information.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes,” the young chump says, “I checked him in and he tipped well.”
I roll my eyes. I guess I wasn’t the only one equipped to line pockets. I sulk back over to Stanis who is chatting up Sal Raniero.
Cheerfully, I ask, “Are you outta here?”
“I am headed over to see Delilah for lunch and hitting the highway,” he smiles that grin. “Are you going home?”
I watch Stanis linger over to the coffee bar. “Yeah, I have a flight to Midland. You should come stay at the ranch sometime.”
“I may just take you up on that next time I am in Taos,” he chuckles, “It is just down the road a little.”
“Yeah, just a lil… Bout nine or ten hours.”
“Seven.” He goes full-on with his famous smile and adds, “If you drive like me.”
Stanis returns with three cups of coffee, handing one to Sal and one to me. He sits down and continues browsing the newspaper in an attempt to ignore me.
“Sal, do you happen to know how to contact Dale Archer?”
Flipping his ball cap on backward, he pulls his phone out of the back pocket of his jeans.
“Sex hat,” I whisper, nudging him with a wink.
“Oh,” Sal mumbles, glancing up at me quick and returning to scan his phone. “You haven’t changed at all.”
“You hook up with that girl?”
He blinks up at me like I am crazy for even insinuating he hadn’t scored. “Chenille? Ya,” he admits. “She is a fangirl and a writer. What are you going to do for me if I give you Archer?”
Without a second thought, I put the offer down. “I’ll read Chenille’s book and let my editor Janet look over her work.” Sal stares at me almost insulted, wanting more. “And I’ll pay for six months of promotion. Can I please just have Dale’s number? I have something of his.”
“Ya, his fucking heart…” Sal grumbles, showing me his phone.
My expression turns to concern. “What do you mean?”
“I mean the poor guy is fucking broken.”
“Must not be that broken,” I hiss, crossing my arms. “He has a daughter.”
With a menacing gaze, Sal pushes back. “Ya, he adopted her the day she was born.”
“What?” I demand way too loud, causing the snooty women to glance in my direction.
He flips through his phone and produces a picture of a darling baby girl all dolled up in pink. He even put a band with a daisy on her head. “He adopted Mae-Mae Helouise Archer six weeks ago from a hospital in Nebraska. Said he named her after Kaci, but between you and me, I think it was for you, Mae East. He doesn’t even know the woman. Jack Kerris delivered, and Dale paid a fuckton, we were in and out of there in forty-eight hours.”
“You are fucking kidding me…”
“Nope,” Sal snaps, clearly irritated. “He wanted a baby girl, and he was determined to have one before he got too old. He could never find the right girl after you left, so he did it on his own. Damn respectable, if you ask me.”
I wanted to cry. Or die. I am such an asshole. I’d be lucky if he ever talked to me again. Stanis approaches cautiously, whispering, “You ready Amber? Limo is here.”
I hug Sal goodbye. “Please come see me sometime. And if you see Dale, tell him to call me.”
Sal nods. “You should work on your communication skills. All you women think we are fucking mind readers, but let me tell you – we aren’t. If you want Dale, you need to speak up. I love you girl, be safe out there in the boonies.”
“I love you too, Sally. Thanks for being my rock.”
Flashing a grin and a wink, he acknowledges, “Always, babe.”
Something about the way Sal smiles sends my thoughts back to a place years ago where I was young and scared and hurt.
* * * *
Pretending to avoid his gaze, I stood in his dressing room. I knew the job I agreed to do. Seeing his rippled muscles and tan skin, I understood the actual act wouldn’t be that difficult. The hardest part resided in meeting those blue eyes, afflicting my skin like molten lava careening over every pore and ounce of flesh. I dipped into his lust, driven with his desire, and daunted by the suggestion.
If I kept my lashes down, I remained
calm. But the moment I blinked and flickered them to his—I became his. Trapped in his insatiable world of decadence and depravity, I closed the door on my past with one quick fluttering of my eyes.
He asked me to strip, to show him my ass. I wanted to do so much more because in that moment where we captured one another’s soul, I knew I found my peace in the circus of Cyclone Blonde.
I loosened up and paraded about the room. His dark stare lured my eyes to his hand, pumping his cock. His huge hands groped around his thick, veined rod, owning it without hesitation. I wanted on his dick that first day, and I have needed him since. I hoped he would take me like his hand, using me for every bit of his needs. He could take from me, and I would provide more. In the gaze, we negotiated as much.
I moved closer, not quite believing that the girl who lived homeless for four months was now here entertaining the porn industry king. The moment seemed surreal—a fucked up dream. Not the one I had hoped, but an interesting jaunt nonetheless. I yearned to prove something—to myself and to him—I was not broken by the hand of ripped cards. Paper frayed and stained, lifting up at the edges and bending like origami shapes into whatever some heinous monster thought necessary.
But Cyclone didn’t see that part of me. He recognized my vibrant, spirited youth, and I capitalized on it, in a last ditch hope of desperation and prayer that I could finally rebuild my own deck. I moved closer, dancing and pirouetting around the room only to end up straddling his lap and playing my innocence.
He took the nymph in me and brought her to the surface, showing me how to survive. But what I never planned was how the ghost of my former broken self would return to haunt us—day in and day out. The voluntary suicide of the past tore my present, ripping and shearing layer upon layer until nothing remained but my heart. Volatile and awake, the chamber beat with a tenacious grace as I reconstructed a future to my choosing.
As it turned out, Cyclone Blonde had a different vision for my landscape. With his whirlwind cranked up high, he cut the path. He laid the future. He rebuilt the girl.
And I was his.
DALE
I HEAD INTO my condo, toss my bags, and grab a beer from the fridge. Amber’s been on my mind non-stop since I ran into her at the vending machine. I knew when I took the job for Raniero that she was the featured speaker, and I agreed to it with hopes of seeing her. In fact, I figured I would check in on her by watching her speech and that would be the end of it. I never dreamed I would end up boning her in the bathroom.
The thought of our intimate moment sends a lightning bolt through my core, and before I know it I’ve got my beer in one hand and my dick in the other. I pull my cum-soaked shirt off and head to my computer. I type in Mae East and a bunch of porn videos pop up. Along with several links to her Amber Rosen author profile.
Despite an enormous following, she makes few appearances, always retreating to her ranch. I presume alone, but am not sure. A phone call to an old friend who does private investigation could change all of that. I debate all of one-second before dialing the number.
“Jackson,” she grumbles sleepily.
“Rachel, I need you to do something for me.”
“Me, Rach or me, Rachel Jackson sleuth extrodinaire?”
I laugh. “I need you to look into Amber Rosen.”
She yawns, “The writer?”
“Yeah, she used to be a stripper known as Mae East.”
“What am I looking for?”
“I need to know if she is involved,” I ask.
“Involved in what—with drugs, porn, laundering money?”
“No,” I growl, my frustration increasing. “Men.”
Rachel snickers. “You want me to go see if this bimbo has a boyfriend?”
“Yes.” I listen to myself, stalking Amber like a psycho. “Make it high priority. Just send me the bill.”
“You know, Archer, I think you’re fuckin crazy, right?”
“I know I know, just do it. How’s my sister?”
“Good. Sleeping naked next to me now,” Rach mumbles.
“Ok, give her my love. I got to go pick up Mae-Mae.”
“Dinner next Sunday?”
“You know it! Be there with bells, whistles, and pacifiers!”
“Alright, be careful out there.”
“You too!”
I hang up the phone, thinking about my sister Dana and Rachel. No one would have predicted they could last for twenty plus years. I run my fingers through my hair and wonder how they managed finding the Holy Grail of long lasting commitment. The magic potion daunted my sanity, causing me to question if I made a mistake in sending Amber away all those years ago.
At twenty-seven, my playboy ways dictated the world. I lied, saying I couldn’t be faithful, which was so far from the truth my eyes should have been dog shit brown. I chose the next best thing—putting her someplace safe at Gina’s. The brief conversation with Rachel led to my doubting the actions of the past.
All I could do was move forward.
I head to the shower, rinsing the dirt and letting the anguish fall. I gather up a few of my baby girl’s things and load the truck for the drive to mom’s house just north of Austin.
I pull up at four to mom holding Mae-Mae on the front porch. “Well, hello Daddy!”
I sprint the steps and kiss mom on the cheek, cradling my arms around Mae-Mae. “Hello, precious girl!” I coo at my bundle of pink pride as I ask, “How was she?”
“Beautiful and awesome! I’ve just about decided she needs a brother.”
Following mom inside, I roll my eyes and shake my head. “Let’s see if I can manage one baby first, and then we’ll talk.”
“Agreed. But the next one should come from your adoring wife, wearing your grandma’s antique ring.”
I chuckle once, knowing she means well and sitting down at the kitchen table. “What are you cooking?”
“Lasagne. It should be ready by the time Oliver gets back home from the golf course,” she says with a smile. “How was the convention?”
“Good,” I whisper as Mae-Mae gurgles at me.
“You sound hesitant,” my mother declares. “I have two children, Dale Lee, and I can tell when you are lying.”
“I ran into a friend, seeing her stirred up old memories. That’s all.”
Prepping the salad, she shoots me a glare and asks, “Did Raniero behave—no streaking or letting the women autograph his body?”
“Yeah, he was fine.” I snicker, “And he only did that once in Vegas!”
Mom let the issue lay low as my insides churn with the possibility of Amber. I navigate my way through dinner with the parents, discuss work with dad, and bathe Mae. We are spending the night in my boyhood room with my daughter sleeping soundly in her crib. Unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said for me.
For hours, I toss and turn as the memories plague the night. I check the baby, covering her lightly and begin to wonder how much more she could be with a mother like Amber on her side.
* * * *
The shoot for the day seemed to last forever. The new director demanded every single scene to be re-enacted no less than half a dozen times for close-up aerial shots which left me pissy, acting like a bastard.
By the time, I strutted off the set, I only wanted a beer, some pizza, and a pretty girl to share it all with. I headed to my dressing room only to find Mae missing, probably taking a smoke break. I took a quick shower and wrapped a towel around my waist when Mae stepped in, holding a pizza box and a six-pack.
“I had one of the foley guys buy it,” she said with a wink.
“How did you know?”
“Because I know what a long day you’ve had.”
“Not by choice. Damn director,” I rebutted harshly, grabbing a beer. “You know you aren’t my personal assistant. You are my fluffer.”
“I understand what my job is Mr. Blonde. In fact, I am very clear that my goal is to make sure your lil monster is good to go at
a moments notice. I was just being nice,” she spat. Infuriated by my arrogance, she ran out of the room.
“Fuck!” I grabbed my jeans and took off after her. “Mae!” I sprinted down the hallway yelling. Opening the exit door, I found her sitting on the ground, propped next to the building. The tears streamed down her face.
“I am sorry I snapped at you, I fucked up. I just didn’t expect…”
“What? You’ve never had anyone be nice to you?”
I squinted my eyes, looking into the parking lot. At almost seven o’clock, the business office at the studio closed and people headed home. “Honestly? Not girls that look like you. You did something sweet and I bit your head off, I am sorry. Will you come have some pizza?”
“Is there somewhere else we can go? I mean away from here.”
“Yeah, stay here.” I went inside, grabbing my things, the pizza, and the beer. By the time I dressed and returned, she had dried her tears and smoked a cigarette. “Come on.”
We headed across the parking lot to a jacked up, mud covered 4x4. After tossing everything inside, I picked her up, setting her safely in. “Get your seatbelt on,” I warned.
Lynyrd Skynyrd came blasting through the speakers as I took off for the exit. She glanced at me with her innocent doe eyes and cast a smile that said everything would be alright.
Although I didn’t know it at the time, her reassurance was just how Amber was. Though never overly chipper or bubbly, she embraced a calmness, which to this day—I envy. A lot can be said about what I did that day. Perhaps a twenty-seven year old porn star taking off with an eighteen-year old shouldn’t have happened. But it did.
And I had no regrets.
AMBER
I MANAGE TO get home safely and the first thing I want to do is text or call Dale to see if he made it home. I wore his jacket on the plane ride and as it is tossed on my bed, I can’t help but think I made a mistake.
Fluff Page 5
