by Lyn Rosella
"I can't figure out who started the rumor," Gavin mumbled.
"I'd put money on that motherfucker himself," I said, mentally cursing my hot-headed idiocy. If only I'd thought this through a little more, if only I'd been a little less vague... fucking "forgiveness?" Who wouldn't assume I was talking about Camden?
"Any damage control ideas?" I asked, grimacing.
"Premiere the song early," the both said. "Or fuck it, let it go," Lexi went on. "Rumors are good, they'll build hype. Camden is the only one who needs to know that it's not about him."
"And how, pray tell, do we do that?" I asked, looking between them both. I was rapidly losing my patience.
Gavin grinned. "You could release a sex tape!"
Lexi and I both silenced him with glares that could have boiled water. "Are you drunk?" she asked him. He hiccuped.
"We'll let the rumor mill have its way for now," I said, resting my head in my hands. The damage was going to be much worse if Vaughn never responded at all. Well, then I can write an angry song about being too good for him in the first place, anyway. "Fuck it. I'm tired. I'm tired of all of it."
They didn't bother answering that claim. I made it at least once a month.
I was startled awake when my phone rang later that night. I'd fallen asleep as soon as I hit my mattress and was sure nothing but the devil could wake me. Apparently a tinny techno beat could do it, too.
Groggily, I grabbed it from where I'd left it on the floor and rolled back onto the bed, holding it above my face. Vaughn. Now I was awake.
I answered. "You got my message?"
"You sure it wasn't meant for Camden?" he chuckled. The rich rumble warmed my damn heart. How could I be in over my head already?
"Don't be a dick," I said, laughing.
He grew serious right after. "Why did you do it?"
"Write it or announce it?" I asked, covering my eyes with my arm. "To reach you."
"I thought I was clear last time we spoke, sweetheart." At least he sounded apologetic about it.
"I thought you might at least like to hear the song," I said, sitting up in my bed.
There was a pause. Here it comes again, his damn speech about why this can't go on. Finally, quietly, he said, "Okay."
I took a deep breath. This was big - I wondered if he even realized how big this was. My fans would know. Anyone who'd ever asked me why I refused to write love songs would know. In the entertainment world this was monumental.
Love will let you let go,
Honey, let go with me.
This ain’t a fairytale, but maybe it may be.
I tapped out the beat on my knee. I never sang much a cappella but I could imagine the music in my head. Hardly a finished version, but the lyrics were the most important part right now.
Wild dreams and hot possibilities,
Not a love story, but maybe it may be.
I sang the whole song for him. It was short. I'd probably be adding another verse or two before I took it live. But it was from the heart, and I could feel it in my voice, every little bit of hope and longing and desire.
He must have heard it, too. I knew when I was really selling a song, I knew what my voice could do. So if this didn't get through to him, nothing else would.
Gathering all my hopes and laying them at your feet,
Not a love story, but maybe it may be.
That was it. I'd done my best. If he rejected me now I would have to let go, because that meant that there truly was nothing there. For him, at least.
"That was beautiful," he said. "I mean it."
"But?"
"But... fuck." I heard him take a deep breath. "You really want to start something here." It sounded as if he couldn't believe it.
"I want to try." When he didn't answer, I went on, "If you don't want to then you don't want to. I just had to put it all out there before giving up. And, well, there it is."
"Okay," he finally said with a great whoosh of air, like he'd been holding his breath. "Okay. Fuck, it's not like I can get you out of my head, anyway." He chuckled again. "For something that was supposed to be no more than a sex thing, this sure has gotten complicated."
I laughed at that. "Shit, Vaughn, sex is as good a place to start as any. The song's about a beginning, not a til-death-do-we-part."
"Yeah? So where would you like to start?"
I dropped back against my pillows, feeling light with relief. "Let's just... talk."
We kept that first conversation light and easy. And it really did feel like a first conversation - I learned some pretty basic things about him that I'd gone months without knowing. Like the fact that Vaughn was not his first name, it was his middle. His full name was Michael Vaughn Grayson, but he'd known so many Michaels growing up that he decided to drop it.
I told him about growing up in Philadelphia with just my mother and my sister, and how they both still lived there. Though they were in much nicer apartments than the one we'd grown up in - just because they wanted to remain in their home city didn't mean I'd let them live in anything but high style.
We stayed away from the heavier stuff - our respective scandals, his deployment. Those sorts of conversations could wait until we saw each other, face-to-face.
After ripping each others clothes off, of course.
I laid awake for several long minutes after finally saying goodbye and hanging up. A smile played across my lips. I felt oddly happy. Not that I wasn't happy with my life - I was damn near thrilled with it. But maybe this was what my mother had been nagging me about for so many years - that little empty hole in my life that I felt guilty for being sad over. And now Vaughn was squeezing his way in.
My good mood carried over into rehearsals the next day. We'd rented out a much larger studio so we could start practicing with the light show and getting those cues down. Every sound echoed through the huge space - every clack of my heels, every bar hummed.
Even Lexi noticed a difference when I showed up. "What put a smile on your face?" she asked. But her own smile immediately warped into a frown before I could say anything. "Did you see him again?"
Would the girl never get over it? "We spoke," I said primly.
"Zenaida, I really need you to give us a heads-up on this kind of thing," Lexi said, sighing heavily. "You know the tabloids love this shit and they're going to be begging us for details. We'll have to issue some sort of statement at some point."
"We're talking," I said, "That's all any of those nosy assholes need to know right now."
"But what kind of talking? We really ought to have some sort of meeting about-" Her voice tapered off as my blood rushed in my ears. Someone was in the studio that didn't belong there. Someone carrying a bouquet of yellow roses.
I drifted toward them like I was drawn by strings. "Who let him in here?!" I heard Lexi shout behind me. The security guys were already on him, hustling him toward the door while he looked at me over his shoulder.
It wasn't Camden. One of his cronies, then.
"Bitches," he spat as they shoved him hard. He stumbled out into the daylight - but not before hurling the flowers to the floor, sending them sliding in my direction. "This is how you treat your man's boys?" he shouted at me.
Then the door was slammed shut in his face.
One of my dancers retrieved the flowers before I could and marched to the nearest garbage can.
"Wait!" Shaking myself out of my daze, I caught up with her and grabbed the card out of the bouquet.
It said, "Glad you're finally coming around. Can't wait to hear the song. Love, Camden." Fucking Camden. And fuck me and my fucking song!
I sighed. "I guess I need to put him in his place again."
“They’re just flowers,” Lexi said. “Maybe he’s just reaching out because he wants to work together. Didn’t you hear? The label-”
“Just flowers?” I pronounced each syllable, each letter, with all the disdain I could muster. “Just flowers?”
Lexi sighed and schooled her face into stil
lness. “We could hire more security.”
I'd let her do that. Absolutely. If I never saw another fucking yellow rose again, it would still be too soon.
But I would have to face him again. I'd have to tell him eye-to-eye that the song wasn't for him. Nothing else would convince him - and even that probably wouldn't be enough. Way to go, Zenaida. I'd never been the sort of girl to let my heart win out over my head, but now I'd really gone and done it. It's going to be a long tour.
◦◦◦
I didn't tell Vaughn about the flowers the next couple of times we spoke. He'd gotten a new job and was away for the time being, working a security gig for a buddy who was kind enough to hire him.
"Not sure how long I'll be," he said, "It's just some state politician doing speeches and rallies all over Rhode Island, but they keep changing the dates around."
"Well, it's a small state, so hopefully it won't take too long," I said.
"Yeah. Much as I'm liking this 'talking' thing we're doing, I can't wait to get my hands on you again."
"Oh?" I teased, "You don't want to take me out to dinner, or go dancing, or see a show? You just want to show up and maul me?"
"Yes," he said. His voice was a touch lower. What's he thinking about over there? "Fucking first. Dates after."
"That's a little backwards." I sounded a touch breathless myself. We hadn't really gone here in our conversations - not yet, even though it had been almost two weeks. We'd been trying to politely get to know each other a little better, talking about the things that we thought normal couples would talk about.
But there was nothing "normal" about either of us.
"We started out a little backwards, don't you think?" Yeah, his voice was definitely getting husky. And it was turning me on.
“Tell me what you’re wearing,” he said.
I was laying in bed in a nightshirt, but I said, “A thong and a lacy pink bra.”
“Liar.”
I sighed. “A shirt that reached me knees. No underwear, though.”
“I like that better.” I heard him grunt as if he was moving around.
“What are you doing?”
“Taking off my underwear, too.” I could picture it. Those thick thighs, that perfect cock - how I wished he was there in the room with me. I rubbed my wrist at the memory of the one and only time we’d fucked.
“Are you hard?” I asked.
“I’ll ask the questions,” he said. “And I’ll give the orders. Touch your nipples. Tell me when they’re hard.”
I put the phone on speaker and set it on the pillow next to me. Breathing heavily, I kneaded my breasts through my nightshirt. I cupped them and squeezed, and felt my nipples chafe against the soft material. When I could see their hard outline poking through the shirt, I said, “They’re hard now.”
“My cock is getting harder just thinking about them,” he said. “Pinch them.”
I did, deliberately toward the phone. A thrill ran through me, down to my toes. “Feels nice.”
“Are you wet?”
“I’ll check,” I said, bunching my shirt up around my waist. I ran two fingers through the soft petals of my sex and moaned. “I’m wet,” I said breathily, continuing to touch myself. I was a little surprised at how swollen and hot I was so quickly. I slid my finger up and softly rubbed my clit.
“Do you still have that gift I sent you?”
The giant pink dildo? I’d be afraid to leave it in the garbage even if I did want to get rid of it. I’d have to rent a boat and drop it in the ocean! “I have it,” I said, reaching out and opening my nightstand drawer. I heard it roll inside. “Do you want me to use it, sir?”
“Yes. I want to hear it.”
Hear it? I thought as I wrapped my hand around it and brought it into the light. Hear… oh. “Okay,” I said. I blew out a breath, steeling myself for the thick intruder. I rubbed it up and down my slit, coating it with my juices while I kept playing with my clit. My breaths were coming in fast pants and soft moans.
I heard Vaughn groan over the phone. “Is it in you set? I’m stroking myself imagining you sliding inside your pussy.”
“I’m getting there,” I gasped, pressing the head of it between my folds and inside my channel. It popped in, and though my walls resisted, I was slick and ready. I pushed it in further with grunts and muffled curses, working it slowly, a little bit at a time.
“I want to hear you really thrust that thing inside you,” he said, “Do it. Now.”
I did. I pulled back and then plunged it inside as deep as I could. I groaned out loud as my hips lifted from the bed.
“Not your voice. I want to hear it moving in and out of your pussy. Move the phone.”
“Yes, sir,” I gasped. I moved it next to my thigh, then plunged the dildo inside myself again.
“That’s good, honey,” he said, “Keep doing that. Let me hear it.”
The wet smacking sounds filled the room as I fucked myself with the toy. Rubbing my clit at the same time, I was building up toward my climax slowly but surely.
It was his sounds that really got me going, though. I heard his rapid, rhythmic breathing through the phone, and I could picture him on his own bed, stroking his cock while listening to me. How fast, how tight would he grip it? Those blue eyes would be dark, all those thick muscles tensed… Every groan sent an echoing wave of arousal through me.
“I can hear you,” he said, “You’re getting close.”
“I am,” I breathed, then repeated myself louder in case he couldn’t hear.
“I’m going to count down to one,” he said, his voice shaking with his motions as he jerked himself off, “You’re not to come until I reach one.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Five.” Five? I had to slow down because I was closer than five. I wouldn’t make it to one from five. “Four.” My finger slicked over my clit again and again, and delicious sparks of bliss burned through my limbs. My hips danced upward, seeking release, seeking the end. “Three.” I was moaning non-stop. I was so close. I clenched muscles, held my breath, thrust the pink dildo again and again. “Two.”
“Please, sir-”
“One.”
My hips bucked up to press my pussy even more firmly against my hand as I came, hard. Gasping, panting, clenching, I plunged the dildo deep inside my contracting pussy and held it there. My walls milked it hungrily, drawing out my pleasure.
And I cried out his name at the peak of it.
His breath stuttered. He gave voice to his own climax over the phone, roaring his release and then chanting my name. How I wished I could have witnessed it, felt it within my own hand or in my body. I listened as he quieted and said a silent prayer that we could do this together in person soon.
“Can I ask you something?” I panted into the phone as my trembling body came back to earth.
“Shoot.”
“I’m going to sound like such a stupid girl,” I mumbled.
“Ask me anything.”
“Okay.” I blew out a breath. “Why me? Surely you could have found yourself an easier target. Well, ‘target’ is the wrong word, but you know what I’m getting at. Someone more accessible.”
“Can’t help who you want,” he said, “Hearts and cocks don’t always make the most rational choices.”
“Vaughn!” I exclaimed, laughing.
His voice became serious. "When I first met you," he said, "I saw a woman who needed to be dominated. Needed to be fucked."
My breath caught. That was more true than I liked to admit. "How could you know that just by looking at me?"
"It was just a suspicion at first but once I got to know you, once I pushed you a little... I knew."
"It was still inappropriate, whatever you suspected. You could have gotten yourself in big trouble, you know. It could have ended with a lawsuit if I was a different sort of girl."
"Let me finish." I shut my mouth. "So at first, I just wanted to get you in my bed and give you what you needed. You were hesitant, nat
urally, but I had time. Sometimes it's more satisfying to wait, anyway. And then..." He paused. "Then I got to really know you. I didn't realize it until after Chicago, when the company said that you specifically requested me. I felt... something. And I haven't felt 'something' for someone in a long time. A really long time," he chuckled. "And we hadn't even had sex at that point. So. I was falling for you earlier than that, but that was about when I figured it out. I tried to let you go. You know. But it was impossible. You got under my skin."