But her personal life was a total disaster, and it was totally harming her career. Ken was in the 'any news is good news' army, so he didn't mind her personal disasters. He figured the news cycle ran at such high speeds, if she was caught drunk on camera on a Tuesday and then had a successful concert on a Friday that counted as a comeback.
It was possible, she thought, that these people might not have her best interests in mind. She put on fresh clothes and got ready to go out, when she saw it: her cell. She'd left it on the bedroom nightstand, and it had been completely forgotten since she got to this place. She checked it, and like she expected, it was dead. She found the charger in her suitcase, plugged it in and brought it back to life. There were seven missed calls and a dozen texts from Ken, which could all be summarized with "RU OK?!?"
Fiona sighed and called him back. He picked up on the fourth ring. "Fiona, hi."
"Hey, Ken," she said. "Sorry I didn't call you back. My battery died and I didn't see your calls."
"Jesus, I thought you went off the road or something. I was going to call in the state troopers."
"I'm fine, Ken," she said. "Did you know that Steve was having this place painted this week? There's some dude painting the outside of the cottage."
"Oh, shit," Ken said. "I didn't know. Is he hassling you? I'll call Steve and have him get rid of the guy. You don't want him telling anyone you're there."
"No, it's okay," Fiona said. "I talked to him. He's cool."
"Okay. So, are you doing anything up there? I don't want you to just sit there getting pissed all day."
"No. I'm going to try the lake later today. Maybe go for a run. I've got some stuff to think about. Actually Ken, I wanted to ask you something. In your opinion, would you say that I work for the record company, or would you say they work for me?"
There was a long pause. "You work for each other. You are mutually beneficial. By the way, are you going to be back by next week? You've got appearances lined up, and if we're going to cancel anything, I should give as much notice as possible."
Now it was Fiona's turn to pause. How long was she staying here? How long could she stay with Mike?
"Fiona?"
"I'll let you know tomorrow, okay Ken? I'm going to leave my phone turned off for the rest of the day. I need some phone-free time."
"Phone-free time? You?"
"Yeah. I'll call you tomorrow."
She ended the call. That was enough business talk for one day. She tossed the phone onto the bed and walked out of the cottage. She climbed into the Lexus and started it up. She'd seen a book store in Green Lake the day before, and she decided to head into town and find herself a few books to read. She didn't read enough books. Hell, she hadn't really read a book since the first year of high school, which had also been her last year of high school. She'd left school to pursue her career, and her parents had never held her to a tutoring schedule to make sure she graduated. Really, she had a ninth grade education. But that didn't mean she couldn't find a few books to read now.
She drove to Green Lake and found the book store. She picked out three novels, and also bought some notebooks and pens. Maybe, she thought, she could write some songs. Or something. She didn't know anything about writing, really. But what the hell, right? She was a celebrity. She could do whatever she wanted. Even read and write.
* *
After eating some lunch at the same restaurant, Fiona drove back to the lake. Mike was at her cottage when she arrived, diligently painting the walkway. "Hey," she said. "Sleep late?"
"Oh, hello," he said. "You sure left quietly this morning. You had me wondering if I dreamed the whole thing."
"I'm real," she said. "As real as a pop star gets, anyway. I went and got some books to read."
"Cool," he said, getting up and wiping his paint-stained hands on a rag. "What did you find?"
"These," she said, holding open her bag. "Written on the Body. Love story, I guess. Looks sexy or something. The Time Traveller's Wife. I thought the movie was okay, so why not, right? And this."
Mike looked at the stark black cover of the third book. Nausea, by Jean-Paul Sartre. "Wow," he said. "That's a bit heavy."
"I like the title," she said. "Have you read it?"
"Yeah, I read it in college," he said. "Give it a try."
"Is the deck dry?" she asked. "I thought I would read out there. Get some sun." He told her it was dry, and she went inside. She dug into her suitcase and pulled out her bathing suit. It was a scandalously small bikini, made of a shiny gold material, and she put it on. There were some deck chairs folded up in the corner of the living room near the door to the deck, and she took two out. She looked to see if Mike noticed her taking them out, and sure enough, he couldn't miss it as he painted the walkway. She smiled, glad that he was seeing her in the sexy little bikini.
Fiona applied some lotion and lay out in the sun. It was a warm, windless day, and the lake was gorgeous. She had her books, a notebook and pen, and a bottle of water. She picked up one book and started to read.
Since she wasn’t in the habit of reading, it did not go quickly or smoothly for her. It was a struggle to follow along. She read a dozen pages, folded a corner to mark her spot, and tried another book. Again, she read a dozen pages, and paused. She folded a corner and lay the book down. She looked at the third book. Nausea. Fiona gave it a try, but it was more difficult than the other two. Like Mike said, it was heavy. The words seemed like small black weights on the page. Even so, it hooked her somehow, even though she read only six pages before she felt she needed to take a break.
"I don't have the attention span for this," she mumbled to herself. The notebook was there, and she thought of writing a song or something in it, but she had no idea how to start. She picked up the notebook and the pen and joined Mike where he was painting. To avoid walking over the wet paint she walked through the cottage, came out the front door, and came up behind him. He was on his hands and knees, going back and forth over the walkway's two-by-fours.
"Nice ass," she said.
Mike looked over his shoulder at her. "Thanks," he said. "I'm pretty sure you're teasing me, but I'll take the compliment."
"I have a stupid question to ask you," she said.
"There are no stupid questions," he said. "Well, actually there are. Lots of them, but let's assume this won't be one. What's up?"
"Have you ever kept like, a diary or a journal or something?"
"Sure," he said. "Usually sketchbooks, but I would write in them too. Why?"
"I want to start one. I think it might be helpful to, you know, write some things. But I don't know what to write. I don't want to just write stupid 'this is what I did today' shit. I don't want it to just be like, Facebook on paper. I want to try and get a little deeper than that, you know?"
"Yeah," he said, and he turned around and sat. "Okay, let me think."
Fiona sat in front of him, crossing her legs. He stole a look at her body in the tiny swimsuit, which pleased her.
"You really can write whatever you want," he said. "There's no right or wrong. You can write the 'what I did today' stuff, if you have something interesting you want to remember. You can try writing songs, or poems, or little stories. Stuff from the news, or something that's happening in the world. You can write down your dreams. Like, dreams meaning fantasies or aspirations, but also your actual dreams from when you sleep. You can write down memories. Write about people who you've loved. Even if you don't love them now, say something about them. You need to honor past loves. I believe that. "
"Those are great ideas."
He shrugged. "It's the same stuff I use to come up with painting ideas."
"I'd like to see your paintings."
"I don't have much with me out here."
She shrugged. "Some other time then."
There was a quiet moment. "I'm going to get back at it," he said. "I'm behind. This was supposed to be a three day job."
Fiona stood up. "Sure," she said. "I'll leave you alone
."
"You're not bothering me," he said with a smile. "I just need to keep at it."
"That's cool. We'll chat later." She slipped back in through the cottage and out to the front deck. Planting herself back in the deck chair, Fiona sighed and held the notebook in her lap. She wished he didn't have to worry about painting the cottage. She wished he would just come back her to the deck and chat with her.
She imagined him standing over her, pretending to be just chit-chatting, but she would know that he was looking down at her, checking out her nearly-naked body. He would start to get a hard on, and she would notice it in the front of the cargo shorts he was wearing.
"What's that?" she would say, reaching out to trace a finger along its length.
"Oh, nothing," he would say.
"It doesn't look like nothing," she would reply, and she would pull him close so that he was standing right in front of her. She would open the front of his shorts and pull out his cock, which would be half-hard. She would slide her hand up and down its length, enjoying the feeling of it hardening in her hand.
"That's nice," she would say, smiling up at him, and then taking it in her mouth.
Fiona realized that she was rubbing herself through the front of her bikini bottoms, massaging her pussy, and getting herself wet. She closed her eyes and let the sun shine on her face as she continued her fantasy, imagining Mike picking her up and carrying her inside the cottage and making love to her on the big bed in the bedroom.
She opened her eyes and looked around. There were cottages on both side of hers, but they were separated by trees. Nothing could be seen through the thick green foliage. Nothing could be seen from below, and there were no cottages across the lake where weirdo’s with telephoto lenses might be watching her. There wasn't even a canoe on the lake. Except for Mike, she had her privacy.
The sun was warm on her skin, and she was warm from her fantasizing. She lifted one foot up to rest on the edge of the deck chair, and spreading her legs apart a little, she stopped rubbing herself through the front of her bikini, and slipped her down the front to touch herself directly. Adjusting her posture to allow herself better access, she began to tease herself, rolling a finger around her clitoris with little circular motions, thinking about the work Mike had done for her the night before. He had licked well, and when he sucked on her clit, she came so hard... it was sweet relief from all the darkness she'd been putting herself through. She'd felt so alone for so long. It was a definite relief to get some personal attention like that.
Her vagina was getting wetter and wetter. She slid a finger down into her folds to lubricate it, and then moved the slick fingertip back and forth around her clit. She was getting really worked up, lying out in the sun in her sexy little bikini. "Masturbating," she whispered to herself, "masturbating." Why did just saying the word get her so hot?
Enough was enough. She slipped her hand out and got out of the chair. Mike was still at the side of the cottage, finishing up the walkway and moving on to the front deck. She went through the cottage and came out the front.
"Mike," she said. "It's hotter than hell. Come in and grab a drink. Get out of the sun for a minute."
Mike wiped his forehead with the back of his arm. "Sure," he said. "Thanks."
He followed her into the kitchen and immediately washed his hands in the sink. Fiona took a bottle of water out of the fridge. "I don't have any beer," she said. "Just water and vodka, I'm afraid. Unless you want a glass of milk."
"The water's good, thanks," he said, taking the bottle.
"Good," she said. "I need the milk for cereal anyway. You've been at it for hours. Isn't it hard work?"
He leaned against the counter. "Not really. It's repetitive, so you get a bit stiff, but it's no big deal."
"Stiff, huh? Like your shoulders and back and stuff?" She leaned against the counter as well, thrusting out a bare hip.
He nodded, drinking the water.
"You need to relax your stiff muscles. I can help with that if you want." Without waiting for a reply, she stepped close to him and kissed him on the mouth. His lips were cool from the water. She put her hands on him, touching his stomach, and sliding one hand down to handle the package at the front of his shorts.
He smiled. "You really go for it, don't you?"
"If you don't like it, tell me to stop," she said. He replied by putting his hands on her waist and kissing her.
Fiona slid down to her knees. His shorts had no fly, so she gripped them firmly by the pantlegs and tugged them down. He was wearing blue jockeys underneath, and she smiled up at him while she pulled them down as well.
"Oh, wow," he said. "You're really incredible, you know that?"
His penis was free now, and she took it in her hand. "I bet you say that to all the girls who pull your pants down," she said, and she put a kiss on the head of his cock. He was stiff, and she took the head in her mouth, sucking gently at it, massaging it with her lips.
Mike braced himself against the counter, leaning back and groaning as he watched her. She looked up at him with the head in her mouth. She knew guys liked that. She licked up and down the shaft, and then took the head into her mouth again, taking his cock as deeply as she could, until the head reached her throat. She backed off before she gagged, and took him in again, sliding her hard shaft in and out, making love to him with her lips.
He moaned as she worked on him, and when he made a grunting sound, she stopped. "Not yet," she said. "Not too soon."
Fiona stood up and leaned against the counter next to him, presenting her gold-wrapped posterior, swaying it back and forth. Mike didn't hesitate. He dropped to his knees and grabbing the waistband of the bikini bottom, pulled it down and off of her, revealing her small round ass. He put his hands on her ankles and directed her to stand with her feet wide apart, giving him full access to her ass and vagina.
He kissed around the top of the backs of her thighs, and around her buttocks. She giggled and arched her back, opening herself even more for him, and he responded by moving his mouth into her crevasse, pushing his tongue out to lick at her perineum, tracing a line from the bottom of her vagina to her tightening rear end.
Mike got lower down and licked at her pussy. She reached down and pulled the hood of her clit forward, exposing the little bud so he could lick it, and she smiled and moaned. She reached behind her back and untied her bikini top, letting it fall onto the counter. "Oh, fuck painting the cottage," she groaned. "I need you with me."
He broke off what he was doing. He rose up, and she felt him grip her hips to position himself behind her. The head of his cock rubbed along her wetness, and she pushed back, taking him right in. She was fully, absolutely ready. Her slick pussy took his length after only a few short thrusts, and in moments he was sliding in and out as she bent over the kitchen counter.
Fiona cried out and leaned far over the counter, arching her ass out toward him, pushing back as he rode rhythmically against her. The position was perfect, and the head of his cock was bumping against her g-spot with every stroke. It wasn't long before she was locking up and gasping, clenching her fists as Mike continued to work.
He could feel her vagina tighten as he continued to slide in and out of her, and he slowed his pace as her orgasm subsided. She looked back over her shoulder at him, her eyes half-closed in orgasmic afterglow. Mike leaned forward to kiss her as he continued to pump. Fiona lifted her left leg up to the side so her knee was resting on the countertop, giving him easy and open access to her. He held her by the waist and cried out, grunting and pumping his hips as he came inside her.
Mike rested his head against her shoulder. They were both slick with sweat. Fiona giggled. "Did you like that?" she asked.
"Oh God," he moaned. "Where did you come from? You're like, from another planet or something. I've never met anyone like you."
"Yeah," she said. "I'm different, all right." She wiggled her hips and he slid out of her, allowing her to turn around and wrap her arms around his neck. She ki
ssed him on the mouth, sliding her tongue against his, kissing deeply like a desperate lover.
They went into the bathroom and crammed themselves into the little shower stall. Fiona had her shower gel in there, and she soaped him down, running her hands over his chest and down his stomach, and then stroking his softened penis as she washed him. She poured some gel into his hand and turned her back to him, letting him soap up her back and down to her ass, sliding his hand between her cheeks. He ran his hands all over her, reaching around to massage her soapy breasts, and down to her pubic area. They kissed, rinsed, and finally got out.
Mike got his clothes back on and stood in the kitchen, looking out toward the partly painted front deck.
All That She Desires: The Stranger Page 4