Sex Idol

by Shelley Munro

  “I’ll wait with you until Bridget gets here. Have you received your allocated categories?”

  “Not yet. The organizers have a special announcement to make and want us all in the backstage warm-up room in five minutes. I can’t wait to hear what their twist will be.” Antonio didn’t attempt to hide his sarcasm.

  “You’ve coped with the twists on the way to the final. You’ll be fine.”

  The minutes ticked away and still Bridget didn’t appear.

  “We’d better go to the meeting.”

  Antonio nodded, and together they joined the rest of the competitors assembled behind the scenes.

  “The three highest-scoring competitors in the first round can choose their own final routines.” Sasha wrinkled her nose. “Bridget doesn’t react well to anything new, but you’re going to need to do something surprising in the routine you perform tonight, if you make the finals. The audience won’t like a repeat. They won’t score well.”

  “I know.” Antonio opened the door to his dressing room and stepped inside. He ripped open the envelope and scanned the single lime green sheet of parchment. “It will be a moot point if she doesn’t turn up. I’m not going to make the last three if I don’t have a partner. I suppose, as a last resort, I could perform with one of the sex bots from the pool.”

  “Not ideal. What have you got?” Sasha bit her bottom lip the tension of their draw getting to her. Antonio wanted to assuage the red mark away.

  He shook himself, striving for competition mode, the deep place inside him where every move and decision took on clarity. “They’ve given me three categories. I have to choose any two. Toys, self-pleasuring and traditional.”

  Sasha frowned. “You’d better go with self-pleasuring and traditional. They’re your best options if you have to go with a bot.”

  “There’s worse news. I’ve drawn number two. I’m due out in fifteen minutes. Help me warm-up?”

  Antonio shucked his clothes, a sick emptiness invading his stomach. All the practice, all the promises, and Bridget did a no-show.

  “What are you going to do?” Sasha was hesitant, the crease in her brow showing the depth of her worry. They both knew this was the worst time for Bridget to pull this crap. He needed to focus, not worry about the lack of a partner.

  Without warning, Sasha kicked off her shoes and stripped, letting her clothes drop to the bed. “I’ll go out onstage with you—for the first routine, anyway. I can use Bridget’s competitor number on my arm.” Sasha’s gaze dropped to her bare feet. “If you’d like me to.”

  The confession smoothed away some of the nagging worry in him. A smile twitched at his mouth. “Yeah?”

  Her cheeks glowed pink. “Yeah.”

  “Thanks, Sasha.” Emotion welled in him. God, he loved this woman. He yearned to confess, to convince her of his sincerity, but now wasn’t the time.

  “Did you bring the special lotion I made up for you?”

  Antonio rifled through his bag and pulled out the oversized bottle. He flipped the top and squeezed a generous dollop of the pale pink lotion on his palm. The delicate scent of flowers floated up to him. “Just as well I’m a secure bloke.”

  Sasha snorted and turned to present her back to him. “Get over it, Perez. I like to smell nice.”

  Grinning, Antonio smoothed the lotion over her back and down, across the generous flare of her hips and shapely butt. He loved her curves and the way she felt in his arms as he thrust deep into her body. He dipped his fingers into the valley between her butt cheeks and moved his fingers downward, dipping them into her pussy.

  Her welcoming sigh widened his grin. Her weight shifted, allowing him better access. Antonio laughed and slapped her on the ass. “Don’t want to warm you up too much. I take it we’ll do the self-pleasuring duo rather than toys?”

  “I think that went well. The audience will expect Bridget rather than me. That will be a point of difference.”

  “I’d rather have you at my side. Anytime.”

  A pleased smile crept across Sasha’s mouth and she stepped closer to stroke featherlight caresses over his chest. She scraped his nipples hard enough to bring a shiver. Then she rose on tiptoes and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to his lips.

  Antonio took his punishment like a man. He trusted her with his life. Her tongue snaked into his mouth and whispered across the inside of his cheek. Transferring germs, probably a million of the critters. Antonio didn’t give a flying fuck. He loved kissing Sasha.

  Hell, he plain loved her, and the idea of her swollen with his child didn’t sound bad at all, since it gave them a reason to spend time together.

  He pulled away and smoothed a lock of hair away from her face. “Sash, I—”

  The one-minute warning bell rang, reverberating inside the small room.

  “Time to get this show on the road. Good luck, Antonio. Break a leg.”

  “Thanks, sweetheart.”

  Hand in hand, they walked from the dressing room.

  “Number one hundred and sixty-eight? One sixty-eight? Where are you?” A large woman with gray hair piled on top of her head in an elegant bun and wearing a close-fitting scarlet gown clapped her hands together in a brisk manner. “Ah, one sixty-eight. About time. Which category are you performing now?”

  “Self-pleasuring.”

  “Righto. Two of you going on? I’ll tell the master of ceremonies. Music?”

  Antonio shared a quick look with Sasha. “Slow.”

  “Romantic,” Sasha added.

  The woman jotted a quick note. “You got it.” She hurried away with a swish of synsilk.

  The couple onstage finished their routine, culminating in a climax that drew a smattering of applause from the audience.

  “Rita and Damien. Give them another hand! They’ll be back later in the program to perform their second routine.” The emcee flashed a grin and tossed his head so his blond hair fell over his forehead. “Now, a reminder about how the voting works for Sex Idol. In the armrest of your seat, you will find a handheld computer containing the voting sheets. Enter your ticket number, then rate each contestant’s performance. At the end of the evening, send your votes through to our mainframe and our experts will collate the results to learn which contestants advance to the next round. Now, a quick word from our sponsors before I introduce the next competitor.”

  Damien, a veteran competitor Antonio saw often on the circuit, exited the stage with his partner. “Tough audience. They thought we were faking and booed.” He shook his head, setting his short blond curls dancing. “Hope we score okay. Yep, tough audience.”

  “We knew the finals would be difficult.” Antonio grinned. “Wouldn’t be worth winning otherwise.”

  A rich belly laugh boomed out and the man clapped him over the shoulder. “True enough.”

  “Ready? Ready to go on?” The gray-haired woman peered on to the stage. “We have a schedule to keep to. Go on as soon as the message from the sponsor ends.”

  Antonio squared his shoulders. Showtime. Sasha took his hand and squeezed it lightly. He studied her face. Beautiful, sexy Sasha with her striking blonde hair, high cheekbones and luscious, kissable mouth. His gaze wandered to the plump breasts that fitted his hands perfectly, her curvy shape, sassy, rounded ass, and her long, long legs currently concealed by a synsilk robe. He imagined her hands running over his body, her fingernails scraping down his back and interest dawned down south.

  A hostess in a form-fitting red gown glided up to the emcee. The stage lighting flashed and changed colors, sending patterned shapes dancing across the stage. A young couple hurried after the lady in red and stripped off matching white robes to reveal their costumes. A doctor and nurse. The medical couple mimed an operation with kinky undertones.

  The audience clapped and roared, ribald remarks flying wild and fast.

  “Tonight’s sponsor is Robinson’s Toys and Aids. For toys, role-playing props, sexual aids and much more. Go to Robinson’s whenever you’re ready to play!”


  The lady in red and her two helpers pranced off the stage and the emcee walked out to chat with the audience. “Our next competitor is a true champion. He’s won numerous titles and needs no introduction. Antonio Perez! Antonio has drawn the self-pleasuring category. Take it away, Antonio!”

  The opening bars of their chosen song played—an instrumental that wouldn’t distract the audience from the dual routine.

  Antonio pulled his contest persona around him like a cloak and strutted out onto the stage with Sasha at his side. A single spotlight lit a circle on the stage, and they stepped into it. Sasha sashayed to the edge of the light and sat primly in the chair, her legs crossed at the knee. The audience reacted with catcalls and whistles.

  “Antonio. Antonio! Gooo, Antonio!”

  Familiar voices. Sasha’s students.

  With a grin, Antonio rolled his shoulders back, flaunting his muscled physique to the audience. His confidence grew as he registered a satisfactory hard-on. He widened his stance, smoothed his hands down his ribs and across his abs, blocking out the audience and thinking of Sasha the whole time. Her eyes on him. His skin tingled, and his shaft lengthened until his penis was fully extended. His hips rocked, making his cock sway.

  A feminine whistle rent the air. Sasha. She lifted a languid hand and parted her legs, flashing her pussy at the audience. Antonio fired a grin at her and let one eye close in a wink. He lifted a finger to his mouth and closed his pursed lips around it. Then he removed the damp finger and ran it the length of his erection. Sasha mirrored every move he made, and the audience loved it, a buzz of excited comments sweeping through the arena like a Mexican wave.

  He increased the pressure on his shaft, relieved to feel more than a tinge of excitement. His balls drew up tight as he fisted his hand and massaged his length. He rubbed one thumb across the plum-colored crown. His eyes narrowed to slits as enjoyment zapped him, but he still kept his gaze on Sasha. The knowledge that she watched enhanced his pleasure. Circling his finger across the slit at the end of his cock intensified the hum of pleasure. Seminal fluid moistened his fingertip. Antonio threw his head back and rotated his hips for the benefit of the audience. He peeked at the clock. They were okay for time.

  His cock tightened with painful intensity. And still he watched Sasha, imagining ramming into her tight channel, dragging his most treasured memory of her into the forefront of his mind so he’d come with an explosive burst.

  Fiji.

  A walk along the beach. While he continued to stroke and massage, he recalled the white sand and the lazy waves cruising into shore. He pictured Sasha’s tanned, naked body as she stripped off her clothes and left them sitting in a heap on the sand. He’d grabbed her and twirled her around until she shrieked with laughter. Then he’d carried her into the sea and let her slide down his aroused body. Small, colorful tropical fish had darted around their naked limbs as Sasha had wrapped her legs around his waist, opening her pussy to him and positioning his engorged cock so all he needed to do was push inside. Her internal muscles clung with exquisite pleasure as they slid together in a slow dance of seduction.

  Antonio shuddered, recalling the feel of her lips against his. They’d only kissed a handful of times at that stage, yet each remained indelibly in his mind. The softness. The moist feel of two mouths pressed together. Each kiss a little different. Smacking. With tongues. Sensuous. Arousing.

  He inhaled, relaxed and at ease, enjoying the sensations rippling the length of his body. He inclined his head a fraction, signaling to Sasha that he was ready. The only thing that would beat the pleasure he felt now would be if he were inside Sasha, thrusting in measured strokes, feeling the clutch of her tight channel. His heart thudded faster at the thought. His fist tightened, and he pumped his cock hard. Hot pleasure spilled through him. He shifted slightly as semen arced from him, hitting Sasha mid-chest.

  Bull’s eye!

  Once his spasms eased, Antonio opened his fist and let his cock spring free. He grinned and winked at Sasha before turning to the audience to wave. Sasha rubbed his semen into her skin as she stood before moving to stand at his side. The audience burst into applause and, as one, they bent at the waist, executing an elegant bow as the last notes of the music trailed into nothingness.

  “Way to go, Antonio!”

  “Yay, Antonio! Go, Sasha!”

  Sasha’s students again.

  Antonio grinned and blew them a kiss before strutting off stage.

  An assistant handed them robes. Antonio wrapped the synsilk around his body. “Thanks, Sasha. You’re a savior.”

  “Maybe Bridget is here now.”

  They headed straight for the dressing room and the small cleansing unit to clean up before the next round. He was angry with Bridget yet relieved she hadn’t shown. Sasha was a brilliant replacement. The performance they’d given would score well. He had no doubts.

  “Antonio.” Bridget’s tentative manner disrupted his mental ruminations. His head snapped up.

  “Where the fuck have you been?” Antonio inspected her face. Despite his ire and her hollowed eyes and mottled face, he grabbed her forearm and dragged her into his dressing cubicle. He stood aside to let Sasha enter.

  “Maybe I should wait out here,” Sasha said.

  “This involves you, too. Come in.” Antonio slammed the door closed once she was inside. “Explain,” he gritted out.

  “I…I had an accident.” Bridget was pale, so pale she would have passed as a fragile vampire.

  Antonio frowned. “Take a seat before you fall over.” He pushed her down into a plastique chair and froze when she mewled in pain. “What happened?”

  The kinder note breached her control. One tear rolled down her face followed by another and then a third. Finally, she squeezed her eyes closed and swiped at the tears with the back of her hand. Antonio handed her a tissue and waited impatiently for her to regain control.

  She dabbed at her eyes, then screwed the tissue up in her hands. “I fell down a flight of stairs at my apartment.” Still her eyes remained closed, avoiding him.

  Like he believed the stairs story. It had to be something to do with her boyfriend. Damn. He scanned her hunched figure. “Are you okay to perform?” Part of him was pissed. How could the woman be so stupid? By her wan complexion and furrowed brow, she was in pain, so he bit his tongue and waited for her answer. Sasha’s hand squeezed his forearm. He glanced at her and she frowned in return, silently telling him to take it easy on Bridget. Not so easy when his future—their future—was at stake here.

  “I took a painkiller,” she said.

  “Not one on the banned list?” Antonio asked, his tone sharp.

  Bridget’s eyes flew open and showed a hint of her fiery Irish temper. “No, I’d pass a drug test.”

  “What would you like to do?”

  She shook her head. Anguish darted across her features at the slight move. “I don’t think I can make it through a routine. What have you drawn?”

  “Traditional and self-pleasuring. I’ve just done the self-pleasuring routine. Sasha helped me out.”

  “How did it go?” She was anxious and hopeful, though her voice was thick with tears.

  “Okay.” He shrugged, knowing the audience was sometimes fickle in their voting. There were no guarantees on how they’d vote, but he was happy with their performance. More than happy. “Are you sure? You’ve trained hard. Our routine is good.” Damn, this wasn’t fair. He’d worked hard. Sasha had given up time to train them, and Bridget’s selfishness had jeopardized his chances at winning the title. Then, he studied her dejected form again. He sighed. “Let me see the damage. Sasha and I are both trained in first aid.”

  “No.” Bridget pulled away. She drew a pained gasp, one hand flying up to hold her ribs. “It’s my ribs. I’m sorry.” Tears poured down her face. “I’m so sorry.”

  Sasha took over and knelt in front of Bridget. “It’s not your fault. It was an accident.”

  Antonio grabbed another tissue for Bridget to w
ipe her face. It looked as though it might come in handy.

  “But you don’t understand,” Bridget wailed. “This is my fault.” Her slender shoulders shook. “The De Santis.”

  “Don’t talk,” Sasha murmured.

  Antonio stiffened. “What about the De Santis?”

  “They wanted me to wreck your chances at the title so they could clean up with the bookies from off-planet.”

  Antonio exchanged a glance with Sasha across Bridget’s bowed head. Shit, if things had gone that far with the De Santis, Bridget had every right to worry.

  “What did they want you to do?” There was a slight edge to her tone.

  This time Antonio sent the silent warning. Bridget would clam up if they weren’t careful.

  Bridget shifted in a chair with an aggrieved whimper.

  “Please let me look at your ribs.” Antonio remembered the bruises he’d seen on Bridget before. She wasn’t telling the truth about her injuries then, either. She was in deep trouble.

  His cop friend Massey had warned him the De Santis didn’t take no for an acceptable answer. Several suspicious deaths were being investigated in connection with the gangland family, but the law department was having trouble making charges stick.

  “If it’s your ribs, we can strap them for you.”

  “But what about your next routine?”

  “I’ll go onstage with Antonio,” Sasha said. “If he wants. But neither of us will be able to concentrate if you won’t let us help you.”

  “But why?” Bridget wailed, hanging her head. “I stole from you.” Her muted words echoed in the hushed room. “I took your medals and your lotions. And the necklace. I’m sorry. I was desperate. They wanted money… I didn’t have it.”

  Sasha recoiled upright, her mouth tightening. “You took the necklace?”

  The missing necklace had caused her a shitload of problems with Welsh. Ongoing problems, Antonio thought. The man had pestered her, left messages on her communicator and he’d set the city officials on her. They’d visited her school on a regular basis, checking to make sure she fulfilled her formal obligations. Hopefully, Sasha had put a stop to that now. His eyes narrowed as he glared at his partner. Ex-partner now, for sure.