“Whatever I did in my past is just that. In the past.”
The woman threw her a bright smile that was anything but kind.
“Not necessarily dear. The thing is, now that you’re such a big star and all, these things you’ve done have a habit of coming back and biting you on the backside. When the press start showing an interest in you, they start digging.”
Doris glanced nervously over at Curt and saw he didn’t look happy one bit. His face was stone still and there was a hard look in his eyes.
“Like I say, my past is past.”
“My magazine has found out some, ahem, rather salubrious information about you. Like that porn film you made when you first started out under the stage name, Jenny Jet.”
Doris let out a small gasp. She knew nothing about that. Stupid, stupid Dahlia. Before she had a chance to formulate a reply, the woman continued:
“And rather more recently, there was an incident in a nightclub involving an overdose that resulted in you being rushed to hospital. My team has photographic evidence of you snorting coke in the public toilets. As well as engaging in sexual intercourse with a man and a woman. At the same time. In the toilets.”
Inside Doris shrunk in shame. OK, so it wasn’t her that had done those things but right now it felt like she had.
She thought that the night Dahlia had overdosed hadn’t got to the press. It had happened a few days after the filming of Brick Face was complete, and Dahlia was on a bender. After having her stomach pumped out at the hospital, she had been admitted into rehab where she had been for the past month. Jeremy had gone to herculean efforts to keep it out of the press.
It would seem that not even the mighty Jeremy could keep this one secret.
But if she knows that, does she also know that Dahlia is in rehab and I’m her stand in twin?
The thought brought her out in cold sweat. Dahlia’s career would be in shatters if it came out. She decided to bluff it out and see how much the woman knew.
“I know I shouldn’t have behaved that way, but I was letting my hair down after filming. No harm came of it and it was a one off.”
“No harm came of it? I thought you and Curt had got involved on the set of Brick Face? Did you mind your girlfriend going out and having sex with other people?” she asked Curt.
She doesn’t seem to know that Dahlia went into rehab after that night. But even so, she could be bluffing...
“Dahlia and I were not exclusive at that point. It was early days in our relationship, a lot has changed since then.”
Poor Curt, she thought with a sudden pang. He doesn’t know the full extent of Dahlia’s wild side…
“You’re a very understanding man, Curt Gunner. I’m not sure I would put up with being treated in such a way.”
Curt suddenly got to his feet, making both women jump. “I think this interview is over.”
The woman looked startled. “I haven’t finished yet.”
“But we have. Good day to you. Come on Dahlia, let’s get some lunch.”
They left the woman in the room, staring after them open mouthed.
“Darling! How did it go?” Jeremy said as soon as they entered the hallway.
She was saved from answering when Curt piped up.
“We’re taking the rest of the day off. There are things me and Dahlia need to discuss.”
For a moment Jeremy looked scared.
“The journalist has found out about when I was rushed to hospital for a few hours after that incident in the nightclub with the drugs and the couple.”
God, could she be any more obvious? Why not drop him a big, side-long wink and say ‘the night she was in the hospital for a few hours and didn’t go to rehab…’
“What else has she dug up?” Jeremy asked.
“The porn movie,” she replied, glaring at him as she said it, hoping that he picked up on the whole, you should have told me look of recrimination in her eyes.
The overweight journalist appeared in the door, silencing whatever reply Jeremy was about to come up with.
“Come on let’s go,” Curt said, steering her away by her elbow.
Jeremy looked as though he was about to tell her to wait, that he hadn’t finished with her yet, but had decided that the need to appease the irate journalist was greater.
Or bribed, Doris thought.
“I’ll call you, don’t stray too far,” Jeremy called to their departing figures.
Curt led Dahlia away from the bitch of a journalist and her ugly little agent that was always guarding her, reminding him of an angry little bulldog. He was mad. No, scrap mad, he was furious. If he hadn’t of been so blinded by his rage he might of realised the true nature of his emotion.
Jealousy.
It didn’t help that she looked so amazingly ravishing today, like a 1950’s starlet. All he wanted to do was rip off her neat little outfit and fuck her senseless.
“Christ Almighty woman. Why didn’t you tell me you’d done a porno when you were starting out?”
“Because I didn’t think it was any of your business.”
“What possessed you to partake in a God damn threesome in a public fucking lavatory?”
“OK, so not my finest moment I’ll admit. But again, I didn’t think it was any of your business. We weren’t a couple now were we? It’s my life, I was free to fuck whomever I liked.”
Not for the first time, he thought how the word ‘fucked’ sat so uneasily on her lips. She was such a bundle of contradictions, he just couldn’t work her out. And whomever? Since when was her speech so grammatically correct? Dahlia came from the, ‘and she was like, and I was like,’ school of speech.
Maybe the fact that he couldn’t work her out was part of the attraction. He had certainly never felt such a strong sense of possession over a woman. God help him, he wanted to punish her for being so free and easy. He wanted to break her, he wanted to bring her to her knees, he wanted to ruin her for anyone else so it would always be his name on her lips, his touch that she craved. The thought of anyone else touching her made him feel sick. It enraged him, and again, the strength of his own emotions frightened him.
“You need to be taught a lesson young lady. We’re going up to my room. Right now.”
She gasped, the most endearing blush suffusing her face and chest.
“No, we’re not. I already told you, we can’t get involved if we’re going to work on another film together.”
“If you want to work on another film with me, namely the film that will concrete your place in Hollywood, then you will get involved with me any way I deem fit.”
“That’s blackmail.”
“There’re no flies on you, are there?”
He steered her towards the lift and he felt her tense up.
“No, Curt.”
“You had a threesome in a fucking toilet mere days after you’d been with me, and now you’re putting on the prim and proper and act? Please. Spare me. You’re not a very good actress at the best of times.”
“If I’m so rubbish, then why do you want me to star in your film?”
“Because you’re the most mesmerising woman I’ve ever met, and I couldn’t imagine anyone else in the role.”
Wow. Where had that come from?
When it came to all things Dahlia, who knew? Such thoughts made him even crosser and he marched her more assertively over to the lift.
“Get in.”
The lift doors shut behind them, sealing their fates.
By the time they reached his room, Doris was trembling from head to toe.
Why am I letting him bully me like this?
Because you’ve never been so attracted to a man before in your entire life.
Please, no, it’s not true…
But when he pushed her into the room and kicked the door shut behind them, it was the only truth that existed for her.
“Get undressed. You need to be taught how to behave.”
Doris found that her breath hitched in her throat
when she tried to speak. Unconsciously her hand flew up to her throat and she edged away from him.
“I told you sweetheart, I ain’t falling for the act. Take off your clothes.”
I’m doing this for you, Dahlia.
Although in truth, she knew she wasn’t. She was undressing for this man of her own free will.
And that realisation scared her more than anything.
First off she unbuttoned the high ruffle neck, Victorian style blouse, her fingers trembling as she did so.
What she was wearing was far from her usual look. The drastically side parted, lightly waved hair, the red lipstick and high waisted black pencil skirt… Usually she wore jeans and baggy jumpers to keep warm in her cold little cottage.
She shrugged off the blouse. Beneath it she wore a thick, sturdy looking black bra, a deliberate style choice of the woman that had dressed her so that her bra showed through the blouse to prevent it from looking frumpy.
“Oh, come on,” he drawled. “This is the woman that has starred in a porno and likes to fuck in toilets.”
A lump formed in her throat. Yes, she was wildly attracted to him, but he couldn’t be more off the mark about her if he tried.
A newfound resolve hardened in her heart. She had to get Dahlia that film role, no matter what. As far as Dahlia was concerned, it would be something worth living for and she would be less likely to get sucked back into drugs.
With that in mind she unzipped the tight, knee length skirt, and stepped out of it. She wore plain black knickers to match the bra and high heeled black shoes. Nothing else.
The way Curt was looking at her was making her insides twist into knots. Pure, unadulterated lust shone from his pale blue eyes, making them gleam with a devilish light.
“You’re so beautiful,” he said in a thick voice coated in desire. “I don’t want you to ever take drugs again, do you understand me? You mustn’t do that to yourself, I’ve seen the sweet girl behind the façade, I don’t want you ever cheating yourself out of the life you deserve. Promise me you’ll never touch drugs again.”
“I promise,” she replied honestly.
“Good. Now take off your underwear, leave on the shoes, and lie on the bed with your legs open.”
His indecent proposal had her blushing in hot shame. Getting her backside spanked was one thing, but displaying herself to him like that? She who had only ever had sex in the dark in the missionary position?
Uh uh. No way. She couldn’t. It just wasn’t her.
But then, she didn’t know what was anymore. The bra went first, and she felt the heaviness of her breasts spill out. The knickers quickly followed and on trembling legs she made her way over to the bed.
She lay on her back, as instructed, her heart beating wildly and every inch of her shaking.
But she couldn’t bring herself to open her legs. She kept her thighs clamped together, conscious that her pussy wasn’t waxed like the kind he was undoubtedly used to.
“Open your legs,” he said softly, insistently. “I need to see you.”
Closing her eyes and whimpering slightly, she opened her trembling thighs. The air felt cool against the wet hotness of her arousal and that shamed her further.
“Open your eyes. Don’t hide from me. No more hiding from who you really are. You don’t need drugs to cocoon yourself with sexual confidence. Everything you thought you knew about sex, forget it. Everything you’ve experienced before has been fake. Even that first time with me was fake. No more putting on an act. No more acting how you think men want you to act, because believe me, you couldn’t be more wrong. Tell me what you feel now.”
His words were hypnotic, soothing.
“Shame. Arousal,” she answered honestly, unthinkingly.
“I will make you feel, baby girl. Pleasure such as you have never known. The exquisite ecstasy of pleasure and pain hanging in the balance. I have so much to show you. You have so much to learn.”
That’s when it hit her. Her sexual experiences may have been limited, but she was a writer. She had read enough about the supposed ‘Dom/sub’ relationship in the new wave of women’s fiction (just for research purposes and to keep abreast of the latest trend, of course) to get it.
He wanted to play some kind of sexual, weird power game with her. She knew she should get up, get dressed, and never look back. To heck with Dahlia’s career.
She knew all this, but still she did not move. There was something about the look in his eye that compelled her to stay. He looked like a man in charge, and it was intoxicating. She was so used to inept guys fumbling and groping her body in a darkened room and smothering her in slobbering kisses, that it was a real rush to feel that someone had taken total control over her body. The fact that she was turned on by this scared her more than anything.
In her quest to be someone else it would seem she had turned into someone else again entirely.
He sat down on the bed and lightly trailed his fingertips over a nipple. Involuntarily she flinched at his touch, her nerve endings jangled with fear, shame and want.
“Arms above your head,” he ordered in the same, hypnotic tone.
Shakily, she did as he commanded. She had never felt more vulnerable or exposed in her life.
Or so horny.
“Leave one hand above your head and touch your pussy with the other.”
His words jolted something deep within her.
“I can’t do that,” she said in horror.
“Yes, you can.”
Gently but firmly, he took hold of her wrist and placed her hand between her legs. The wetness of her pussy instantly coated her fingers.
“Don’t be shy, you have nothing to feel shy or ashamed about. You are beautiful, you are perfect, your pussy is the most desirable I have ever seen. And it looks so much more attractive without that ridiculous, porn star wax job you used to have.”
Ever so gently, he guided her fingers over the protruding little nub of her clit. Sparks of shooting pleasure went coursing through her and she trembled all over.
She realised that his hand was no longer there and she was doing it all herself. She was actually masturbating in front of somebody and her stomach somersaulted at the sheer sluttiness of it.
Oh God, what the hell am I doing?
“Show me how you like to touch yourself, it will tell me more about your body than anything else.”
Doris continued to rub in quick circular motions over her clit. She was pretty straightforward when it came to masturbating, just direct clitoral stimulation did it for her. She also liked to tense her thighs together when she came, something she never did when she was with a partner. She was doing that now, the intensity of the impending orgasm sweeping through her at breakneck speed. Beads of sweat broke out on her forehead, and she closed her eyes, a soft moan escaping her lips.
“Stop,” he said, placing a big hand over hers. “You are not to come yet.”
She opened her eyes and blinked up at him, her pussy throbbing with unfulfilled desire and her nerve endings twitching, greedy for release.
“Roll onto your stomach.”
She knew what was coming. He was going to spank her.
“Do what you want, just don’t hurt me.”
“I will never give more than you can take.”
His words weren’t much comfort but she was too far gone along the road of intense sexual arousal to even consider turning back now.
The air was cool on her sweaty back when she turned over, and she shivered when she felt his fingers lightly trail down her spine.
The first smack on her buttocks made her cry out in surprise. It was a real stinger of a slap that she felt down in her toes.
“Don’t hurt me,” she repeated uselessly.
“No more than you can take,” he said again.
He slapped her five more times. Hard slaps, three blows delivered to each buttock in turn. Each slap made her gasp and squirm, her hands entwining in the bed linen, her mouth buried in the cushions to sti
fle her screams. He was a lot rougher than he had been last night and by the time he was through, her arse was singing.
I’m not going to be able to sit down for a week…
Yet the arse spanking had gone no way whatsoever to dampening her lust. If anything, it had enflamed it.
“Get on all fours,” he ordered gruffly, manhandling her up onto her hands and knees.
He positioned himself behind her between her spread thighs, and she heard the whizz of the fly of his trousers unzipping.
She felt the head of his stiff cock probe her arse crack and wet slit, guided by his hand. Automatically she peered over her shoulder at him.
He fisted her perfectly styled hair and forced her to look forwards, tilting her head back slightly.
“Eyes forward.”
He let go of her hair and she didn’t look round again. She heard the sound of what must have been a condom unwrapping and then she felt the unmistakable sensation of a sheathed cock at her wet pussy. Her disappointment at not feeling his skin on hers was short lived when he drove into her in one easy motion.
His power over her was absolute. As he pounded her wet and ready pussy, it occurred to her that she hadn’t so much as even touched his cock. Not even once. She hadn’t even seen it.
Then all thoughts were driven from her mind with the violence of his thrusts. He fucked her mercilessly, forcing her to collapse onto her elbows to prevent herself from head butting the headboard.
It didn’t last long. His movements grew more erratic, his hips slamming messily into her as he came.
When he was done she heard him unroll the condom and discard it, then he lay on his back next to her. Unthinkingly she lay her head down on his chest, revelling in the sensation of being so close to him. She breathed in the warm, masculine scent of his chest through his buttoned up shirt, could hear the ragged beat of his heart against her ear. As if they had a mind of their own, her fingers unbuttoned his shirt.
She sighed in pleasure when they connected with his warm skin.
“You make me lose control,” he said, catching her hand inside his shirt, stopping her from caressing his skin and undoing any more buttons.
Brit Flick Sweethearts: A Rom-Com With Spanking Page 4