Fear of the future, fear of losing her renowned beauty, had prompted Zara to splash out a large amount of money on the plastic surgery. In public, she had always insisted she would never resort to such extremes to retain her looks, so her publicist had announced she’d come to the Princes Beatrice to be treated for a recurrent chest infection. Once she was recovered, she and Warren planned to fly to the Bahamas for three weeks’ holiday, after which she was due to start work on a TV miniseries.
Suddenly the door of her room swung open. ‘Well!’ Warren exclaimed, kicking the door shut behind him with a loud slam. ‘How goes it, babe?’
‘Fine,’ she said brightly. ‘I’m feeling very well.’
‘You don’t look bad at all,’ he conceded almost disinterestedly. ‘Much better than I expected. I’m totally fucked.’
He leaned forwards to kiss her cheek, and Zara almost recoiled from the smell of stale cigarettes and booze. ‘How did the interview go, Warren?’
‘Bloody awful,’ he growled. ‘The bitch didn’t ask me one of the fucking questions I’d agreed to. She just kept on blabbering on about how badly my last single had done in the charts. Tried to humiliate me. Even mentioned I was living with you. Inferred I was some kind of frigging gigolo, stupid cow.’
Zara sighed. Warren was his own worst enemy at times. ‘Perhaps it would have gone off better if you hadn’t drunk so much beforehand,’ she suggested.
‘I didn’t drink a bloody thing this morning.’ Warren flopped down on the chair beside the bed. ‘Just had a couple last night with a few friends.’
‘Where?’ she enquired casually.
‘Your place, where else?’
He grinned revealing yellow uneven teeth. Zara, who was used to his excesses, thought Warren looked worse than usual today. His face was pale and spotty. There were heavy dark circles under his eyes and his hair was greasy and lank. Even his clothes looked crumpled and none too clean. Zara couldn’t prove it, but as well as overdosing on booze, she suspected he was also using. He would never admit it to her as Zara was an outspoken anti-drugs campaigner. She had been ever since a close friend of hers had died of an overdose ten years ago.
‘Don’t worry, we haven’t fucked up your precious pale furnishings,’ Warren growled. ‘You made such a bloody fuss last time, I made sure they all behaved themselves.’ He grinned at her in a youthful cheeky kind of way, which made her heart race. It was only occasionally now that she got glimpses of the cocky young man she’d fallen for all those months ago. ‘Look, do you like it?’
He pulled back his lank greasy hair to expose his left earlobe. Just beneath his usual gold sleeper was a huge, sparkling, canary diamond stud.
‘Is that mine?’ she asked in concern.
It looked like one of the diamond earrings she’d been given by a former lover, an obscenely rich Arab Prince. The earrings were worth a fortune, and one of her most precious possessions. All Zara’s jewellery was carefully catalogued and stored. She looked upon it as insurance which would help ensure her financial security in her old age.
‘Of course it’s yours.’ Warren’s grin widened. ‘Looks great doesn’t it? Made the hole myself with a needle – bit messy, but worth it. I haven’t figured out where to put the other one yet. My nose, or my dick, what do you think?’
Zara couldn’t believe what she was hearing. No one was allowed to lay hands on her secret hoard, it was hers alone. ‘They were in the safe along with the other pieces,’ she said angrily. ‘How the hell did you get hold of them?’
‘How d’you think?’ he sneered. ‘I opened the safe – used the combination. I didn’t blow the bloody door off.’
‘I never gave you the combination.’
‘Didn’t have to,’ he said proudly. ‘You’re so damn scared of forgetting things that you write everything down. I watched you stick a piece of paper containing the combination to the underside of one of your dressing table drawers.’
‘And you spied on me, then stole it,’ she accused.
‘Shouldn’t have been so fucking careless. Anyone with any sense would know to look there.’ He fingered the diamond possessively, while staring at her through narrowed eyes. ‘There’s no need to look so put out.’
‘Put out!’ she repeated. ‘That’s an understatement,’ she added in disgust. ‘You stole my jewellery.’
‘Just took what I earned.’ His expression hardened.
‘Earned?’
‘Yeah, with this.’ Warren rubbed his hand against his crotch until his cock hardened, bulging visible against his skin-tight jeans.
‘You bastard,’ she hissed. Even though she was angry she still wanted him. She stared at the very visible rod of male flesh. Warren might be slightly built and none too tall, but in contrast his dick was magnificently large. ‘Did you expect to be paid?’
‘For fucking you, why not? I made sure you always enjoyed it.’
‘You enjoyed it too,’ she challenged.
‘So you thought,’ he countered. ‘Maybe I’m just a bloody good actor. I’m only twenty-six, while you’re middle aged, but also rich and very famous. Work it out for yourself,’ he added cruelly.
‘You told me when we first met that you were a great fan, that you’d always fancied me.’
‘When I was thirteen I did, but that’s a long time ago. The years are catching up on you big time, Zara. Why else would you be having plastic surgery?’
‘How dare you say I’m old,’ she screamed. ‘Get out of my sight you bastard.’
‘Don’t order me about, bitch.’ Jumping to his feet, Warren jerked back the bedclothes and plunged his hand inside the bodice of her nightgown. ‘You know that I just need to touch you and you’ll do anything I say.’
He squeezed and kneaded her breast so roughly that she gave a whimper of discomfort. ‘No, Warren, don’t.’
‘No, Warren, don’t,’ he repeated in a high-pitched parody of her voice. ‘You want me – admit it,’ he added, pinching her nipple, rolling and pulling at the sensitive peak, while flipping up the skirt of her nightgown with his other hand. She was bared to the waist, her badly bruised stomach and thighs on full show. ‘Not such a pretty picture down here,’ he sneered, thrusting a hand between her thighs. ‘But I bet your little cunt is as hungry as ever.’
‘You bastard,’ she muttered, as he roughly caressed her pussy, yet she found herself opening her legs wider.
‘Soaking wet.’ He thrust three bunched fingers deep inside her vagina.
His brutality turned her on, and she didn’t have the strength to fight the assault on her already heightened senses. ‘I don’t want you,’ she gasped unconvincingly, as tears of humiliation stung her eyes.
Warren thrust his fingers in and out of her soaking sex, and Zara gave an unconsciously loud, submissive moan. Warren laughed triumphantly. ‘You can’t get enough, can you, Zara? Now you’ve had your surgery you could go for someone even younger. Why not hang round the local school, pick up some fresh meat – some fourteen or fifteen-year-old kid.’
She wanted to tell him to go to hell, but the words wouldn’t come out of her mouth. It was days since she’d had sex and despite her disgust for him, she found Warren’s crude invasion arousing. She whimpered, wanting him to continue finger-fucking her as his thrust became harder and deeper. Zara couldn’t fight the inescapable pleasure building inside her aching quim, moving her closer and closer to a climax.
‘So desperate for it – so easily controlled,’ Warren taunted.
Zara lifted her hips to meets his thrusts, no longer caring at this moment in time what he said. Warren gave a harsh chuckle as he ripped the fragile bodice of her nightgown, and leaned forwards to pull one full breast into his mouth. He sucked on it hungrily, grazing her enlarged nipple with his teeth. Then he pressed his thumb down hard on her clitoris, and the combination of sensations was sweet perfection itself. Her desire and hatred combined into an overwhelming emotion that drove her up and over the edge, into a pulsing climax.
; Zara was left shaking with spent passion, suddenly feeling used and deflated as she stared up at Warren. ‘Stupid bitch,’ he growled, laughing triumphantly. ‘Now I’ve proved who’s in control.’
‘Damn you.’ Lifting a trembling hand, she hit him hard across the face.
‘Bitch,’ he yelled furiously, slapping her so hard in retaliation that her ears sang and her head buzzed.
Grabbing Zara by the shoulders, he shook her, then thrust her roughly back against her pillows. ‘I’ve a mind to open that bloody safe and take every piece of your precious jewellery. I’ll sell it or hide it somewhere you’ll never find it.’
‘Do that and I’ll have you arrested. You’ll be in jail before you even know it,’ she screamed, watching fearfully as his raised his hand again, while the other went to the zip of his jeans.
Staff nurse Colin Deakin was standing in the corridor issuing instructions to two young nurses, who’d just come on duty, when they heard the commotion coming from Zara Dawn’s room.
‘Leave this to me,’ he told the nurses, recalling that he’d not liked the look of Miss Dawn’s visitor when the man had strolled passed the nurses’ station a short time ago. ‘You attend to the other patients.’
Not bothering to knock, Colin barged into Zara’s room. He was just in time to see Warren, hand raised to hit her again, while the other unzipped his flies. Colin’s reactions were quick, honed by the years he’d spent in the army. ‘Don’t you dare,’ he barked loudly, crossing the room in a flash and pulling Warren away from Zara’s bed.
‘Take your fucking hands off me,’ Warren growled as he spun round to face Colin. ‘I’ll punch your lights out, arsehole.’
‘Don’t even try it if you value your life. It’ll be the last move you ever make,’ Colin warned, staring scornfully at Warren’s scrawny body.
Warren muttered something incomprehensible under his breath, raising his clenched fists, desperately trying to look menacing. He failed miserably and it was clear he was scared of Colin, threatened by his impressive height and muscular build. Despite the fact that Colin had only served in the army as a medic, he’d still been behind enemy lines on a number of occasions, forced to fight for his life. He looked every inch the former soldier.
‘Well?’
‘Cool it,’ Warren muttered. ‘Calm down, man – this was a private argument.’
‘Not when my patient’s well-being is at stake. You, out!’ Colin pointed to the door.
‘You can’t order me around,’ Warren sneered, nervously clenching and unclenching his fists. Glancing down, he self-consciously rezipped his gaping flies.
‘Try and stop me.’
‘The bitch isn’t worth any of this.’ Warren cast a brief, scathing glance in Zara’s direction, before moving towards the door with undue haste. ‘You can both go to fucking hell,’ he yelled boldly, slamming the door shut behind him.
Colin moved solicitously over to Zara. It was the first time he’d been on duty since Zara Dawn had arrived at the hospital. He was way too old at thirty-four to indulge in crushes on movie stars, but he’d admired her for years. He’d been looking forward to meeting her, though not in a situation like this.
‘It’s OK now, Miss Dawn, he’s gone,’ Colin said reassuringly. ‘Did he hurt you?’ he asked, seeing a mark, which looked suspiciously like a hand-print, marring the smooth paleness of her cheek.
‘My pride more than anything else,’ Zara sobbed, fighting to regain her composure.
Tears rolled down her face, streaking her mascara as she reached for the box of tissues on the bedside table. Colin couldn’t believe the colour of her large tear-filled eyes; they were an even deeper violet than they appeared on screen. ‘Would you like me to issue instructions not to let him visit you again?’ he suggested. ‘You need peace and quiet to recover from surgery.’
‘And there’s never any peace when Warren’s around.’ Zara picked up a small mirror and tried to concentrate on removing streaks of mascara from beneath her eyes.
As she moved, she didn’t notice that the sheet she’d so hastily pulled up had slid down again. Where her nightgown had been ripped away, Colin got a clear view of her magnificent bosom. The nipple of her left breast looked red and sore. Damn the bastard, he thought, but his expression betrayed nothing. Despite his familiarity with women’s bodies, and his medical training, he couldn’t help feeling aroused by the sight. Zara was even more beautiful in the flesh than he’d ever imagined.
‘I’ll tell reception not to let him in again.’
‘I doubt he’ll be back anyway,’ Zara replied. ‘When Warren gets angry and upset, he disappears for days. Most likely he’ll pick up a couple of tarts, book into a cheap hotel and go on a drinking binge.’
‘Sounds a real nice guy,’ Colin remarked in disgust.
‘I’m a fool, aren’t I?’ Zara regained some composure, but her hand still trembled as she replaced the mirror on her bedside table.
‘We all do foolish things at times,’ said Colin. He wanted to ask Zara what she saw in a creep like Warren. She was famous, beautiful, and according to the tabloids had a number of rich and influential admirers. ‘Would you like me to give you something to help calm you down? You’re pretty shook up.’
She shook her head. ‘I don’t like taking drugs. I’ll just have to get over it myself.’
‘There are other things,’ he pointed out.
‘Like what?’
‘Herbal remedies, essential oils. I’ve just been away, doing a course on aromatherapy massage. That can be extraordinarily soothing in times of stress.’
‘So that’s why I’ve not seen you before.’ She stared admiringly at his strong tanned arms and muscular physique, which were well displayed in his form fitting white uniform. ‘Warren didn’t scare you, did he?’
‘I’m ex-army. Compared to a herd of angry Iraqis your friend Warren is a pussy-cat.’ Colin smiled wryly. ‘Let’s get you tidied up. Where do you keep your spare nightgowns?’
‘Oh!’ She looked down at her torn bodice, which did little to conceal her breasts. ‘No matter.’ She tried to sound unconcerned. ‘I’ve shown far more in movies.’
‘It’s not quite the same, is it?’ Colin replied with understanding.
‘You’re very astute.’ She pointed to the low dressing table. ‘They’re in the top drawer. Any one will do.’
Colin pulled open the drawer and removed the first nightgown he saw – a fragile white lace garment that had probably cost more than a month of his wages. ‘This is pretty.’
‘A shade virginal,’ she said cynically. ‘I’m far from that.’
‘It’s perfect.’ Colin laid the garment on the chair beside her bed. ‘Almost as beautiful as its owner.’
‘You flatter me,’ she said, lifting the sheet to cover her. ‘Now about this aromatherapy. Do you really think it would help?’
Colin selected and mixed the essential oils, adding them to the oil base he would use for the massage. The combination would calm Zara down and help her to forget the unpleasant incident with Warren. Colin could only guess what had happened between them, but his surmising was extraordinarily close to the truth.
When he entered the hospital room again, he found Zara already prepared for her massage. She lay on her stomach on the bed, a large white towel beneath her, another discreetly covering her body.
‘You’ll soon start to feel better, more relaxed,’ Colin assured her as he turned the towel back to her waist, then rubbed his hands together to warm them a little.
Zara’s skin was a pale ivory and blemish free, while her body was just perfect; curvy, not stick-thin like most of the actresses Colin had come across since working there. She looked more like a thirty year old than a woman fast approaching fifty.
Colin tried not to think of her in a sexual way, but he found it far from easy, as he poured the sweet smelling oil on her back and started to massage her with long, smooth strokes.
‘That feels nice.’ Zara pillowed her head on he
r folded arms.
‘Relax, think of nothing,’ Colin said, so very conscious that he was touching a woman he’d adored for years. A hungry ache of longing formed deep in the pit of his belly, and no matter how hard he tried, it couldn’t be totally ignored. Her full breasts were compressed by her weight, and they spilled enticingly out of the sides of her body. As Colin slid his hands up the sides of her back his fingers brushed the soft curves. He wanted to roll her over, cup them in his hands, cover then with gentle kisses. His heartbeat quickened at the thought as life blood flooded his groin. His cock hardened – God, how he wanted this woman.
Slowly he eased down the towel, only to discover that beneath it she was totally naked. This was the first time he’d massaged a patient. During all his practice sessions the ladies had discreetly kept on their panties. Zara’s bottom was pert and tight, with no sign of softness or dimpling – a testament to the time she spent working out in the gym. Colin dug his fingers in her gluteus muscles, kneading and squeezing. The movements pulled apart the cheeks of her buttocks and he caught a glimpse of her rosy brown anus. Aroused by the delicious sight, her tried hard to concentrate on the massage, sliding his hands lower to stroke her legs.
Zara gave a soft appreciative sigh, relaxing even more, and her legs rolled open just a little. Colin’s fingers, slick with oil, unintentionally slid between her thighs, just brushing her dark blonde pubic curls. He felt her shiver, and was so very tempted to proceed further; to mesh his fingers in the silky pelt, dip them inside the lips of her sex and seek out the throbbing heat of her quim. A sheen of perspiration formed on his brow, as he fought against his desires. Trying to ignore the dark inviting shadows between her thighs, he ran his hands downwards to stroke her calves.
‘You were right, this feels good,’ she said softly as he massaged each foot in turn.
‘I’m pleased it makes you feel better,’ he replied, his voice husky with need. ‘You can turn over now,’ he added, pulling the towel up to cover her again, wondering how he was ever going to contain himself as he massaged her front.
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