by T. N. King
It wasn’t that she wasn’t beautiful…she was, in fact. He just did not feel it was right. Plus, having a public image, it would look like he thought he could actually get away with owning a…sex slave. He rolled his eyes. If the press ever got a hold of it, he would be skewered publicly.
Oh yes, there had been nights when she tried to…He had refused. Tempted yes, but he would seek females elsewhere.
He’d made sure she had two days a week off and in fact, he had a translator tell her that it was an actual order. She could not even come into the Penthouse at all for those two days. She finally relented to it. He would then make sure if he brought a woman to his place, Airi would not be there at all. Not even allowed up on his floor, she had been specifically instructed. He then hired a Japanese American driver to take her anywhere she needed to go in town and he doubled as her bodyguard as well. Los Angles could be a dangerous city. It would be too ironic and even sad to have her be taken or worse, raped after escaping the nightmare life she’d been raised in before she came here.
At one point, he had even tried to help her to find friends and groups that spoke Japanese. She spoke a little English, but he felt she needed people around her that were from her own culture.
As far as he knew, she never took to it.
Airi came back in and walked over to where he laid on the massage table.
He closed his eyes and sighed as she rubbed him down. Yes, this was one thing she insisted on doing after she had actually chased his regular masseuse out the first week she’d been here. He smiled a little at the memory. Always shy and head bowed, he’d never seen her angry before or since. The poor woman he did have as a masseuse had left screaming while Airi had chased her with a skillet out the front door.
So, he’d relented to the massages. He never let it get sexual and she had stopped expecting him to use her in that way.
The only problem then was…her complete adoration for him. He didn’t know what to do or how to think of it, when he first noticed this semi-worship of him. Yes, he’d wanted adoring fans and fame, but not this. It made him more than uncomfortable for a long time. He then thought about it. All her adult life she’d been a slave girl to the sexual whims of men. It was all she knew. Then, now she served a man that did not want any part of that. He supposed that made him an honorable man in her eyes?
So, he’d given in to a point. He almost had no choice. Steward had told him once that if he sent her away and refused her services, she might take her own life due to the failing and dishonor this would bring to her.
Her skilled hands worked out the kinks in his back neck and shoulders. He never allowed her to touch the front of his body or his ass. She had yelped in fear the first time she tried to massage his bare cheeks. Jacob had grabbed a hold of her hands and told her NO.
Now, he had almost fallen asleep when she had stopped her massage.
“Jacob san?” she asked in that mere whisper of a voice.
He let out a long breath and gave a slight nod of his head. Yes, he supposed it was time to get into the tub.
Airi then did as she’d been taught by him. She left while he bathed.
He got up and walked over.
Airi had already set everything he needed where he could reach it. Shampoo, body wash, loofah. He stepped down the steps and floated out. All the tension he had when he had come home was nearly gone. He drifted on his back and stared up at literally, the sky. The stars were beginning to appear here and there. A storm yesterday had cleared out some of LA’s notorious smog.
Jacob pushed everything from his mind and allowed himself to just be.
Chapter Two
A month’s hiatus! Yes, that is what the producer had announced. When Jacob had arrived on the set, he’d gone through his routine and was ready to go, when no one else showed up! What the fuck he’d thought, where the hell was everybody? Then his cell had buzzed. It seems Miss Halloway was still on the residuals of another film. Jacob was pissed. How can a star just not show up for work? Then the studios explained that her contract did have a clause that stipulated she couldn’t start if her last film hadn’t wrapped. Well, he’d never had this problem, his films usually wrapped ahead of schedule. So, now he had a month to wait.
He headed back to the penthouse. By the time he arrived, he was much calmer. He figured it was time for a trip to Europe. He needed the respite in any case. It was the only place where he could find any peace as in to get laid. It always happened so easily there. Most did not recognize him and there were no real American paparazzi present in most area. He let out a sigh as he thought of Paris two months ago. He’d spent a week in a suburb of that famous city with one of the hottest women he’d ever seen. The sex was awesome and natural. Jacob got hard even now just thinking about it. And the best part was…She hadn’t known who he was, and she never knew, not for the whole week they’d spent together. It had been the best week of his life. He’d been just himself and never had to worry about anyone knowing about it either.
He called Airi and told her he would be gone for three weeks, and to keep herself occupied. She seemed to understand, but he called her driver, Yoshi and instructed him to explain it to her fully. He didn’t want her panicking. He then found his passport and all else he needed was already packed in his walkin closet. Yes, he was a very organized person. Some would say he was uptight about things. He didn’t agree. He was always ready. In case, he had to fly out to a location, or as in this case, fly out to a vacation.
He smiled. He then arranged for his tickets round trip, First Class.
He did have a hard time deciding whether it would be Italy or France. He loved France but he chose the soonest departure date. Italy it would be. Venice to be precise. It was a little damp there but he didn’t care. He would wander the piazza, take in some art. Take a woman or two. This came easily for him. He was pretty much unknown in Europe, despite being from England. He could pick up a date just with his looks.
Yes, most felt he was conceited. Perhaps with an inflated ego. It wasn’t that. He just knew he looked good and women sure seemed to agree. He kept up with his workout regime and he also made an appointment in New York to have a week there. His personal trainer Parker had a gym here in LA but he wouldn’t be there himself until next month anyhow.
He had his car stored and it had cost a good amount too, but it would be safe and ready to go when he got back. He called Yoshi to pick him up the next morning to take him to the airport.
It was kind of hard at first to switch gears, as he had believed he would be in work mode at this time. Then he realized he needed a bit of time off to soothe his beast before shooting began again. He always worked better when sated. It helped him to control his emotions better as he used those in his work.
Then within 38 hours from ticket time to arriving, he landed in the Venice Marco Polo Airport. He took a taxi to his hotel. The Hotel Monaco Grand Canal. Perfect and fucking expensive as well. 400.00 per night in American dollars. He had a tidy nest egg so it didn’t bother him. It would be well worth it.
He arrived at the hotel; it was of old design as most things were in Venice, however, inside it was ultra modern. He allowed them to wheel his luggage up, then he made it to his room and crashed. Tired did not even describe the condition he was in and jet lag was now his buddy. He slept for almost a whole day.
He finally got up and called for room service. He hardly believed they would beat Paris in this respect but they did a good job. He ate, looked out at the view of the Grand Canal, then showered and was ready to go. Where to go? Was the question. He had all the brochures but he for once, wanted to just let it be. So he decided walking would be in order. Just wander around and see what he might find.
Jacob tamped down his excitement. Emotions were a tricky thing for him. He stored them almost like a computer, then would pull them up for the filming. One director had said this about him after he’d worked with him for a month. He always arrived on set before anyone else. Steady and calm, neither l
aughing nor angry at any time on the set in between takes. Then on screen, he was alive and crackling.
After going down in the old style but efficient lift, or elevator as they called them in America, he set out on his first day in Venice.
The streets were like a painting truly. Color poured out on a canvas. The gondolas which Venice was famous for lined the bay. Yes, there was waterline marks everywhere, up along the buildings as though they floated in water. Well it was known as the floating city. The city where romance was the main fare.
He wanted romance for sure but he also wanted what went with it.
He found that lunchtime had rolled around before he knew it and he went and sat in a chair at a table in a sidewalk café. He ordered some light drink as he hated coffee and being English at heart, he did not trust the tea in this city.
He sat and people watched for the better part of an hour. Then a woman walked by. Yes, many had but not one that looked like this. Wow, talk about curves. Her gaze met his and she almost stopped walking altogether as she paused to take him in. Did she recognize him? Or was it just the way he looked?
She then turned and moved on. He watched her sashay away and he was hard in his briefs. He chuckled. Oh, well. There would be more of those if he were lucky. Yes, there did seem to be a lot of women out. Some had a man on their arms but some did not.
Paying for his meal, he decided to try out a museum. He’d sat and looked at the brochures and maps while he’d eaten. One was just a few blocks from here. He would enjoy more walking and he’d better keep up with physical exercise. If he showed up at Parker’s gym, even three pounds overweight, there would be no end to the nagging by that man.
So, he walked, or more like…he strolled. Again, he was struck by the locale, the old style Venetian buildings, the florists along the walk. The market sides where they called out in Italian about their wares. It was all so different from America, so old world, except everyone wore modern clothing, and there were Italian sports cars everywhere. They really seemed to love the Lamborghinis here. He chuckled. Some weren’t brand new but Jacob figured it was an honored type thing, where they insisted on driving the classics of Italian design.
He went into the museum and just stood in the grand entrance. He almost couldn’t catch his breath.
It wasn’t a painting he stared at—it was the woman in front of a painting. She stood with her back to him. Was it that same woman? He had an eye for detail and yes, she wore the same outfit. A paisley skirt and an Italian style blouse. He then wondered if she would think he followed her? Stalker much? He smiled at this and headed straight over. He could charm that fear right out of the equation. Jacob stepped up next to her and stared up at the rather large painting.
He waited.
While he waited, he then did get absorbed with the painting. It was fantastic he had to admit. A true representation of the Grand Canal, but very old. It did not have the yachts he’d seen in person earlier to the side and the paint looked to be of old base. No, he wasn’t an art expert, he just knew what he liked. His only art was of the acting craft.
Finally, she turned her head and took him in.
Jacob could feel her gaze and he hoped she liked what she saw. But not too much. He didn’t want her to know who he really was. It would spoil it. He’d found that it often did. They wanted to sleep with The name, the actor, the famous person. Yes, he shouldn’t care why they wanted to sleep with him, but he in fact, did. He wanted it to be because of him, not his persona. Besides, he put everything into being Jacob Cooper on film, he wanted to just be a regular guy who wowed the woman in bed. But…he was getting ahead of himself here. He hadn’t even spoken to this one yet, let alone get into bed with her.
“Excuse me,” she finally spoke.
His skin tingled at the sound of her voice. Yes. Sultry and Italian.
“Do you speak American?” she asked.
He finally deemed it time to look over.
WHAM!
It hit him full on. Her olive skin was flawless, her eyes weren’t the staple Italian brown, but were hazel, set in the most angelic of faces.
Take it easy here Jacob. Just move slow. You do not want to scare the local wildlife. And wild he hoped she would be in the end. “Yes, I do.” He allowed his Brit accent to tone his words. He didn’t know why he did this. Maybe it was because he wanted to be real? As this was what he truly sounded like when he let the whole Jacob Cooper star shit go.
“Oh, good,” she answered then turned her attention back to the painting.
Well that was brief, he thought. Why would she ask then not speak to him?
He waited some more.
“So, are you on vacation?” she finally asked.
Jacob could feel her eyes on him. All over him in fact, but he did not smile at this. It would come off as over confident. He turned his gaze to her. “Yes, I am. And you?” He knew she wasn’t as she looked Italian to her core, except for those eyes. He knew what he wanted here. To see those eyes perhaps change color or deepen in color as he made her come for him.
“Oh, no.” She chuckled a little.
Oh and that laugh. He wanted to hear that some more. It made his stomach do flips. He loved it. “So, I hope you do not think I followed you.” There, he got that out right off.
She smiled at him. “It might be a compliment, No?”
Oh, wow. She was cute. That smile was endearing and warm. She was a flirt. Fun. He shrugged. “It was by pure accident. Not that I wouldn’t have followed you. The minute I saw you, I almost got up to run out on my bill there at the café.”
This time, she let out a full on laugh.
Oh, yes he would use his great skill with humor to get more of that sound. Now for the first time, he let his gaze roam over her. Full tilt, all the way.
Curves, not skinny like many in his business, not overweight though really, but full busted, thicker thighs, round, beautiful ass. His gaze rose up to meet hers. Oh damn it, he’d been caught.
Her eyes now deepened a bit in color.
Shit! Just like he’d guessed. When she got hot, he would see more of this optical effect. “Well, I will be honest here.” Careful Jacob, do not bulldoze this one. “I find that,” he hesitated just for full measure so as not to seem like a line. Well, it would be a line, but she did not need to see that. “The paintings are beautiful, but If I stand within sight of you?” He smiled a little. “Who the hell cares about art?”
Her eyes widened and the she tilted her head back with a full laugh.
Yes, score. Good one Jacob. Now take it slow. This could take a few dates and some romancing. He didn’t care if it did. It was the chase and capture, he truly looked forward to.
She stepped closer to him and linked her arm with his. “So, tell me your name.”
Oh, shit. In all his wandering, bohemian style vacationing, he hadn’t thought this far. “Jacob,” he answered before that stop sign in his brain bolted up into place.
She tilted her head and studied his face.
He took in a breath and waited. He hoped he hadn’t let that silly, crazy fanfare cat out of the bag.
“What a beautiful name.”
Okay, one more pass. She did not recognize him. Maybe she wouldn’t know at all who he was. He liked feeling the warmth of her arm and her scent was different from any he’d encountered. It wasn’t perfume but something else. “And your name?’” Baby steps, baby steps.
“Francesca.”
Oh wow, he never expected that one. Maybe Rosa, Maria, but this was a true Italian name anyway. “Well, hello Francesca.” Yes, he like the way it rolled off his tongue.
She then surprised him as she turned and tugged his arm with hers. “Let us look at the paintings. I know them all and can give you a personal tour.”
Well, he hit the jackpot here. “A personal art tour guide? How did I get so lucky?”
She giggled. “The pickup line.”
He felt a bit confused as she just changed gears again. “What?”
She kept smiling as she dragged him to the next painting. “You were clever and so obvious at the same time. To say that I was more…how do you say it? More beguiling than the paintings?” Francesca laughed again.
He raised his brows. Clever, yet obvious? So much for suave and smooth. “What gave me away?”
She paused and pursed those lusciously plump lips. “Your eyes.”
My eyes? He was again, taken by surprise.
She kept shaking her head. “Your eyes give away…Your interest. But you can relax. I already decided we will be going home together. You are yourself, a work of art.” She then turned her gaze to the painting and began to tell Jacob of the artist, the paints used, the age of it.
He was floored to silence. A work of art? And did she just say she was taking him home? He grinned and listened to her lectures of the paintings. He found out by the fifth or sixth painting that she was an art major. Hence, her depth of knowledge. Smart, lively, and with almost perfect English, Jacob had the best afternoon that he could remember having in a long ass time.
Then she paraded him out and down the piazza. Where they were going Jacob had no fucking idea and he didn’t care either.
She took him to a rather old part of Venice. They came to what they would call in the states, duplexes, or houses that were joined like the townhomes in New York. Only theses were painted in colors you would not see in America. Tropical faded blues, peaches and tans. Hers was yellow of all things.
“Yes, I know. Yellow is not my favorite but we only let the place,” she explained as if she knew what he’d thought of that particular color
Let as meaning rent, he surmised. And what was the we part? He shrugged as long as it wasn’t a husband or boyfriend. WAIT! Hold up. He stopped and looked at her. Better to get this out of the way right now. “We?”
Francesca stared at him. “Oh, my family. Most of them are not here right now, they are over in Milan. No worries.” She gave him a hazel eyed wink.
Family? Okay. So, he got half an answer, but it would have to be good enough.
