by Jamie Knight
The introduction of his huge, hard, beautiful cock into my pussy came as a pleasant surprise. I gasped around his tender lips as he kissed me. His hips started to rock in a synchronized motion as he worked his cock inside me in a way that made me want to melt.
It was slow but gradual, the correlation clear between his deft thrusts and the sound coming out of me. All were prayers to Venus. Each a bit different and a little louder than the last, the intensity wasting like the tide in a gathering wind.
Before I knew it, he was pinning me down, soft hands around my wrists, my body writhing deliciously beneath him as he fucked me hard. He pumped his cock into my tightening pussy like his life depended on it. I wrapped my legs around his waist and yelped even louder as I pounded my fingers into myself under the water, trying to keep up with his tender fury.
Finally, in a single explosion brought all of us together, the Tobias in my head, the version of me in my head, and the real me in the tub.
The car was there in the morning, waiting not so patiently by the curb like a predator sprung for the pounce. Clementine leaned against it cool as ever. Her Alexander McQueen shades only adding to the effect.
She almost reminded me of Mercy in that moment. I made a mental note to call my best friend of many years to tell her what was going on. It was quite possible she was worried because I called her almost every day. She would also want to know that she was absolutely right, and I was foolish and wrong, and they had indeed chosen me for the show despite my scepticism.
“Nice shades,” I said when we were underway.
“Thank ya, darlin’. My mama would burn my bottom if she saw me wearin’ them but what she don’t know won’t hurt her,” she said.
“Why is that?”
“You know who Alexander McQueen was, right?”
“British fashion designer, as far as I know,” I said.
“Exactly right, darlin’. He was damn good, too. Really creative. He used to say that he would imagine a world, populate it with people and then, and only then, imagine what the people are wearing.”
“Wow.”
“I know, right? Sadly, he died of suicide, which is kind of a no-no in my house. Though that’s nothing compared to him being, you know, a friend of Dorothy.”
“No, I didn’t,” I confessed.
“Yeah, folk ain’t real friendly to that sorta thing where I come from.”
“I’m not surprised. I mean from what I’ve heard anyway. I don’t want to stereotype or anything.”
“Stereotypes exist for a reason, puddin’.”
The building didn’t look any less intimidating. I almost asked Clementine if she would go in with me, but she had a job to do and so did I. Better just to get on with it. Taking a deep breath, I started the limb up the front steps.
I’d never really had a makeover before. Not an official one anyway. Mercy and I used to do each other’s makeup, but that was just for fun and she was always much better at it than I was. Her results had me looking like Audrey Hepburn. My results on her looked more like Gaahl from Gorgoroth. We took pictures for posterity.
They moved kind of like birds. Pecking and stroking at me with penciled and brushes, maneuvering my hair into new and interesting shapes. I could hardly believe the results when I came out the other end. I looked maybe ten years younger. My overall look was a modernized version of a flapper. Neck length, fire red bob and all.
“Right, to wardrobe,” Mari said. Tobias had lent me his assistant for the day. I had to make sure to thank him.
“Strip.”
This was the first word I heard upon entering the wardrobe room. Getting me down to my base garments, I was rebuilt once more. Like a house burned down to the foundations. I tried, I really did, but my jaw still dropped at the sight in the mirror.
“I know right?” the stylist asked, standing behind me.
“Holy shit!” Mari said as she entered the room unannounced.
“Thanks.”
“Time to go up,” Mari said, pulling herself back together.
Tobias Ford was waiting for us in the studio. My heart started pounding in my chest at the very sight of him. He was wearing a similar version to the day before, only his suit was midnight blue instead of black, and his shirt, still silk, was cream white.
“How are you feeling?” He asked.
“Good. I think.”
“A bit nervous?”
“Yeah, exactly.”
“That’s perfectly normal. Fortunately, the show isn’t live, so we can just keep doing it until we have a take you’re happy with.”
“Right.”
“Ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.”
Taking me gently by the hand, a thrill ran through me as our skin again touched in real time. Tobias lead me over to the monologue chair, escorting me up onto the beautifully upholstered seat.
“It’s going to be fine,” Tobias said, taking me gently by the shoulders.
It really was surprisingly encouraging. I closed my eyes and did my best to just relax and be myself.
Two. That’s how many takes it took to get the monologue. It was actually an interview. Tobias asked me the questions in his naturally relaxing tones. Only I was wearing a microphone, so my answers were the only thing picked up by the audio track.
It was a pretty neat trick, really. The second take was done just to be sure, but Tobias swore up and down that the first was perfect and would most likely be used. It was just always good to have a backup.
The preliminaries finished in record time; it was time to get ready for the main event. Tobias stayed by my side the entire time, making me almost wish I was going on a date with him. Catching onto the idea, that was exactly what I planned to do right up until the moment of truth.
“Gino’s, please, Clementine,” Tobias said, getting into the back seat beside me.
“Right away, sir!”
“I thought the date was at the Blue Room.”
“Oh, it is. I didn’t mean to assume, I just figured it has been a while since you’d eaten.”
“It has,” I confessed. How he knew that was anyone’s guess.
“Very good then. To Gino’s for a slice so you don’t faint in the meantime and then on to the Blue Room to set up for the main event.”
“Great.”
Of all my demonstrable skills, fortune-telling had never been one of them, yet it turned out that I was indeed correct. It was great. There were few places I could think of that I would rather be than at one of the three small tables in an authentic New York pizza shop with Tobias Ford.
“Oh, wait minute,”
“What?” I asked, my mouth still full.
“Hold still.”
Obeying him at his every word, Tobias tilted my head back and wiped a bit of cheese grease from my chin before it was able to threaten the perfection of my outfit. Perhaps I should have been embarrassed at the fact that he was wiping me off like a dribbling child.
I didn’t feel it at the time, though. I was just so thrilled that he was touching me. I was like a giddy schoolgirl. It was something I hadn’t felt in a very long time. Even so, I kind of liked it.
“Ready?” he asked, dropping the napkin into the triangular cardboard tray we had been given to hold our sloppy feasts.
“Okay,” I said.
My response would have likely been very much the same had he told me to drop my panties and bend over.
Letting me get in first, Tobias slid into the back seat, which suddenly seemed a lot smaller. Sweet Clementine closed the door behind him and soon enough we were off again into the gathering night. I was on my way to meet my destiny.
Chapter Five - Tobias
It was like riding a bike. Been on one active off-site television set, been on them all. Just another day at the office. I was trying my best to broadcast a calm attitude to Addie, hoping some of my good vibes might resonate. I could almost feel her tension. The wonder of the newbie. I almost envied her in a way.
“We ready?”
“Almost, we’re just waiting for the guy to show up,” Samantha said.
“Rather a large detail,” I pointed out.
“I am well aware. He should be here soon.”
“Show me his file.”
“His what?”
“Pretty please?”
“You know I can’t resist you when you talk like a nine-year-old girl,” Samantha said, handing over the clipboard.
Everything looked good. There were no immediate or obvious warning signs. Except that he was a corporate lawyer, which I tended to trust as far as I could comfortably spit them. I tried to take people as they came. Not even the Nazis were all bad as project Valkyrie clearly demonstrated.
“Everything looks in order,” I said, returning the clipboard.
I took a position behind the camera, so I was close to the table but didn’t get in the way of the shot.
Everything was set. Camera was ready, lights were angled, and Addie looked absolutely scrumptious. As if waiting for exactly the right moment, the man of the hour, Addie’s first date of the run, ‘the chiseler’ as I had already come to think of him in the Gangs of New York sense, came breezing in.
“Am I fashionably late?” he inquired, removing the designer shades that he thought made him look cool but actually made him look like even more of a twonk.
“Not at all,” I said, trying to sound pleasant through my seething rage.
I could already tell he wasn’t good enough for her. I hadn’t known Addie long, but I was able to get a pretty good sense of people. She might have had some issues, lack of confidence primary among them, but he just oozed the essence of a raging asshole. I considered calling off the entire shoot and take the financial hit. Sadly, I was too late. They were already filming.
Hope for the best an prepare for the worst. This was the advice my realist grandfather one gave me. He had lived through two world wars, so I figured he might know a thing or two about a thing or two. As much as I hated to admit it, not simply because Addie was taking the brunt of it, the first date on the first season of Second Chance Bachelorette really was a prepare for the worst situation. I could only hope that show’s title would ring true.
The fisher was rude, which came as no surprise. The problem was the more he drank the ruder he got, running through the entire repertoire of English swear words, eventually turning to other languages of the world. He came out with things that would a Portuguese sailor blush.
I gave the signal to cut camera. Traditionally, this action was meant to be reserved for the director, but I reserved particular rights in emergency situations. Something I invoked with a single phase.
“Code black.”
My statement worked like an incantation, spurring all and sundry to start taking down any and all recording equipment.
“What’s happening?” Addie asked.
“Emergency stop,” I said, putting a protective hand on her shoulder.
“Wha’ da fuck ya talkin’ ‘bout?” the chiseller asked, his speech only vaguely resembling the English he was speaking.
“We’ve called you a cab,” I said firmly.
“I not goin’!”
The wine bottle exploded on the edge of the table, forever staining the lovely linen tablecloth. Red wine dripped from the remaining shards like blood from a jade-toothed maw.
“Shit!” Addie stated, her eyes like dessert plates.
“It’s okay,” I said stroking her back.
As Samantha shepherded Addie out of harm’s way, I started unbuttoning my jacket, making my way toward the bottle-wielding chiseller. I could see it coming from a mile away.
The swing was hard and wide. He reached back so far that his arm formed a right angle with his back. It missed by a lot, and the useless, make-shift weapon actually whistled as it hit absolutely nothing. I was a lot luckier, landing a clean, hard haymaker on the right side of his jaw. He just stood there for a moment as if trying to make up his mind before folding like a lawn chair.
“He signed a waiver, right?”
“Yep,” Samantha said, actually checking the records.
“Very good,” I said buttoning up my suit jacket.
I escorted Addie out to the car where Clementine was waiting, who ditched her cigarette as if I wouldn’t notice.
“Done already?”
“Sadly so. Drive fast, please,” I said. The beast was already coming around when we left. I didn’t want to risk him following us.
“The Sixty?” Clementine asked.
“Yes,” I said, holding Addie tight as she trembled.
I didn’t know if it was because she had never seen much violence or if she had seen too much and was having flashbacks. Either way, she was upset and there was no way I was leaving her in that state.
“Go get some food. I’ll call you when I need you,” I said, giving Clementine a fifty.
“Got it, boss.”
“Would you like a drink?” I asked, sitting Addie down on her bed at the Sixty.
“Very large whisky,” she said.
“Coming right up,” I said going to the mini bar that I already paid for.
Emptying two of the tiny bottles into a tumbler, I got myself a tonic with a twist of lemon. I took both glasses back to the bed.
“Thanks,” she said, taking the tumbler in a shaking hand.
It only took two sips. Two sips of whisky and Addie’s head was on my shoulder as she cried. Putting both glasses on the night table, I wrapped both arms around Addie, holding her tight.
“Am I really so disgusting?” she asked, clearly thinking the altercation was her fault when it wasn’t.
“Not at all. He is that stupid. We can only hope I knocked some sense into him.”
“That really was cool,” she said, starting to calm down.
“He had it coming.”
“Yeah, he did. What a prick.”
“That’s the spirit!”
“D-do you think you could stay with me?”
I would be lying if I said I wasn’t thinking about it. That and a lot of things. Despite the less than ideal cause, holding her in my arms, particularly while sitting on a bed, was filling my head with all sorts of ideas.
Did I want to stay with her?
Yes.
Did I think I could stay with her?
Not really.
“I don’t think that would be a good idea,” I said, without actually saying no.
“You’re probably right,” she said.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said.
“Yeah, see you tomorrow.”
I kissed her gently on the cheek, which raised no protest, and headed out. I got out my phone, hoping Clementine had at least already ordered.
Chapter Six - Addie
It was a dream. At least I tried to convince myself it was. Only I was confident there was just too much evidence to the contrary. Not least my hair cut. Everything had happened more or less the way I remembered it. The makeover. The horrible date. The producer taking me back to my place and me asking him to stay. That last bit wasn’t so bad. I really did want him to stay. It would have been better if he actually had, but I could also see his point. He had a show to think about, and I didn’t want Clementine to have to be waiting for his call all night.
I suddenly had the urge to tell someone and there was only one person who came to mind.
“What’s up, buttercup?”
“Well, hello to you too,” Mercy said, her tone distinctively icy.
“Sorry. I’m also sorry I didn’t call before. As you may have deduced from the radio silence, I got accepted for the show.”
“Figured,” Mercy said, the very picture of stoicism. Rather, she sounded like it at least.
“I am currently sitting in the Sixty hotel, done up like a 21st century Daisy Buchanan.”
“Jealous!” Mercy announced, as if it weren’t obvious.
“Don’t be too much. The date I was done up for turned out to be a disaster.”
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“Define disaster,” Mercy said.
“He broke a wine bottle on the side of the table to make a weapon and the producer had to punch him out.”
“That’s a disaster alright,” Mercy concurred.
“At least the producer made sure the guy had signed a waiver, so the show won’t suffer too much.”
“See? A silver lining already!” Mercy said.
“Yeah, for the producer particularly. He wouldn’t do well in prison. He’s much too pretty.”
“Someone’s got a crush.”
“Don’t be silly!” I protested.
“C’mon Addie. We’ve known each other since kindergarten. I recognize the signs.”
“No, I mean I think it might be more than a crush. A bit more anyway. Crushes are for teenagers. I’m way past that now,” I said.
“Oh, I see. So, love at first sight, is it? Much more mature. You’re entering Disney princess territory.”
“It was not at first sight.”
“Tenth?” Mercy asked.
“Not exactly,” I said.
“How long have you known him exactly?”
“That’s not important.”
“Nice deflection,” Mercy commended.
“What is important is that I really feel something for him, and I think he might for me, too. I can’t know for sure, of course. It could just be wishful thinking, but I’m pretty sure I’ve seen the signs.”
“Sign of the apocalypse?” Mercy asked.
“No, signs of affection. For the record, if I do see a sign of the apocalypse, I’ll say ‘the time is nigh.’”
“Oh, the science guy.”
“No, that’s Bill Nye.”
“Right, I always get those two mixed up.”
It was really nice talking to Mercy again. It was almost like her oddness kept me sane by comparison.
“Did you hear about this lockdown business?” Mercy asked.
“They’re going into lockdown?”
“Yeah, the whole city. Due to the pandemic. This Coronavirus— you know, COVID-19, as they’re calling it— is spreading quickly and the government wants to keep everyone safe.”
