by Carla Blake
As far as replies to Carrie’s own party went, they were arriving in droves. Of over four hundred sent out, no one had, as yet, declined and according to Carmichael, who’d already received several phone calls from flustered celebrities, diplomatically trying to discover whether their invitation had become lost in the post or whether they’d simply not been invited, this was going to be the party to be seen at.
Andrea considered their behaviour all rather tragic and she felt sad that so many celebrities measured their worth by the number of parties they were invited to. What did it matter if they missed out on one? It wasn’t the end of the world. A precious career wasn’t about to come to an end just because they’d missed out on the chance to share a canapé with Catherine Zeta Jones or George Clooney.
But just try telling them that.
Still, it did make her grateful she wasn’t famous and reliant on the post each morning to prove she was still worthwhile. Being a bodyguard and being Carrie’s girlfriend was all the proof she needed. And she got asked to all the best parties!
Smiling at her own hypocrisy, Andrea studied the monitors. Flicking from one screen to the other, seeing nothing but rain and deciding that if anyone was daft enough to be out in that little lot they needed their head examining, especially as they surely didn’t have a snowballs chance in hell of sneaking through. Carrie had security wrapped around this house tighter than a lagging jacket and if anyone so much as blinked maliciously, she’d know about it.
Carrie. Usually the thought of her made her want to melt, but not today.
Today she felt gripped by an odd feeling of restlessness, and doubts that ordinarily wouldn’t have troubled her in the slightest, were starting to worm their way in, making her feel vulnerable and scared.
It had started when she’d been dressing after the shower.
Pulling on a sweatshirt from her training days, her head popping up through the neck, she’d gazed around her sumptuous bedroom and felt suddenly swamped by the awful certainty that she didn’t belong here and that she was intruding upon a lifestyle she had no right to have.
Because what did Carrie see in her? She was nothing special, especially when placed next to Carrie and she couldn’t shake the awful notion that the only reason Carrie was with her was because she was scared of blowing her sexy image by declaring herself gay, and as a result had simply latched onto the first, and it had to be said, bloody convenient, woman she’d come across whom she knew would keep quiet? And if that was the case, how long would it be before Carrie no longer cared if her adoring public knew she was gay or not and she tossed her aside? Because she certainly wouldn’t want her then. Not with literally thousands of gay ladies throwing themselves at her?
It didn’t bare thinking about, but there was the trouble, she couldn’t stop thinking about it and the horrible images kept returning over and over to torment her.
If only she could think of way to talk to Carrie and somehow put her mind at rest. But how could she do that when Carrie was so obviously happy and when, looming on the horizon, was that simple, four letter word. Just waiting for one of them to say it and maybe screw things up forever.
Behind her, the door abruptly swung open, and Carrie, dressed in jeans and a red sweater, walked in carrying a bundle of folders. Dropping them on the table, she ruffled Andrea’s hair.
“You look busy.”Andrea remarked, indicating the folders. “What’s that lot?”
“Scripts.”Carrie said, rolling her eyes. “Or at least the ones Carmichael thinks I should take a look at. And what’s the betting most of them have me typecast as an Angel with PMT?”
“Pretty high I imagine, but I kinda like the idea of you as fury in feathers. I take it you’ll be in the study for most of the morning then?”
“Looks like it. But what’s up with you? You look worried.”
“Do I?”Andrea said, forcing a brighter smile. “I’m just a bit tired is all. Too many early starts.”
“Like hell!”Carrie snorted, crossing her arms. “You’ve got more energy than a bag full of four year olds, and I may not be the best at reading other people’s feelings, but even I can see something’s up. So spill. Or would you rather I just shut up and leave you alone?”
For a moment Andrea was sorely tempted to do just that and tell Carrie that she was fine -really. But, then she realised that if she didn’t say something soon, her worries would simply contine to grow and darken until eventually the stress made her finish with Carrie simply because she couldn’t think of any other way out and neither of them deserved that.So she told her.
Carrie didn’t say a word. Instead she stood and listened and it was only after Andrea had finished speaking to gaze up at her with fear in her eyes, that Carrie wrapped her arms around her and told her everything would be alright.
Because what else could she say? Until now she’d had no idea that Andrea felt so strongly and to suddenly find herself so obviously responsible for another person’s happiness was overwhellming, especially as Andrea had freely admitted, that if they ever were to part, she would be devastated. So what could she say? What could she say that would finally convince her she really, truly loved the hell out of her.
“You’re right, you know.”She said at last. “I probably could have my pick of anyone I wanted. But how would I know they truly cared for me, and not just because I’m Carrie Shilling, the so-called ‘star’? Truth is, I wouldn’t. But I am one hundred percent certain that you want me Andrea. I saw the misery on your face that morning when you thought I’d left you alone on the sofa. No one could have faked that and in some weird way it made me so happy to see it, because I had all the proof I needed that you care. But, in the same vein, you have to believe me when I say I care about you! And why wouldn’t I? You’re kind, generous, and you treat me like a normal, human being. I love you Andrea Stone, its as simple as that.”
“Really?”Andrea asked, wiping a tear from her eye. “You really feel that way about me? I’m not just some convenient stop-gap?”
Carrie looked horrified. “No! Of course you’re not! How can you even think that?”
“I don’t know. I’m sorry. It’s just that I care about you so much Carrie, it’s made me feel terrified of loosing you and I really needed to know how you felt before... before.”
“Before what?”
“Before I told you I loved you.”
“Oh, Andrea.”Carrie said, beginning to cry herself. “I love you too.”
Beginning to regret her hasty decision in obtaining an all day pass to the leisure center, Isobel wondered what to do now? She hated exercise! Or at least she had done until she’d taken up jogging, but even that had had an ulterior motive. Now she was simply lumbered with an entire day to kill in this dreary place.
The bar beckoned but she deemed it better to resist. Frantically dashing back and forth to the ladies all morning to relieve herself of lustful thoughts caused by the sight of the barmaid would undoubtedly leave her exhausted by lunch time! Not to mention broke from buying all those drinks!
She’d be far better off putting all her energies into trying to discover why she’d been at the leisure center and whether or not she was coming back? Then, she could put the second part of her idea into action.
And to do that she needed an attendant.
She found one by the swimming pool.
Gripping the edge of the pool with his toes as he stood keeping an eye on a group of loud mouthed school kids who were getting to grips with the basics of swimming, whilst occasionally blowing his whistle when one of them splashed a little too much.
Watching him from the entrance to the changing rooms, Isobel wondered if she could actually go though with her plan? He was a bloke! All hairy and stubbly and likely to be reeking of cheap aftershave. The thought of actually fucking him made her want to puke.
Although that did kind of depend on whether he would be will
ing to fuck her. But why wouldn’t he? She wasn’t that bad. She was clean and reasonably slim now thanks to all that jogging and her tits looked even bigger now they didn’t have her stomach to compete with. She was even wearing her best tracksuit.
Shit, what was she worrying about? He wouldn’t refuse! He was a bloke and she was practically offering it on a plate! But the thought of him sticking his dick inside her seriously did make her want to puke!
Leaving the pool, Isobel tossed aside her earlier reservations and hurried back to the bar to order a large scotch. She would have prefered a cola, but ordering scotch meant the Goddess had to reach up to the optic and stretch her lovely, tight blouse to new dimensions.
Ten minutes later, and trying her best not to stare at the barmaid’s nipples, Isobel ordered a mineral water- with extra ice. The barmaid dully handed it over and ignoring the fact that Isobel’s gaze seemed centered on her chest, she smiled and asked if she were waiting for someone?
Isobel shook her head, remarking that if she was waiting for someone, they’d have no trouble finding her here.
The place was all but deserted. The polished tables and upholstered chairs still waiting for an exhausted bum to collapse into them. An observation she offered to the Goddess who smiled and turned her back to begin slicing lemons.
Isobel wished she could mind read. How much would this lucious girl tell, she mused? Was she a gossip? Or was she one of those dutiful employees who didn’t say anything unless the boss said so? It was difficult to tell without actually asking. But what if she did and she got stroppy and threatened to call the manager? What then? Oh, to hell with it! She’d just ask her and if it all went pear shaped and she refused to answer she’d simply fall back onto plan B, even if it was in the shape of the unpalatable desires of the lifeguard.
Clearing her throat, Isobel shifted uncomfortably on her bar stool and waited for the Goddess to turn round. When she did, the beautific smile was still in place and for a fraction of a second Isobel was tempted to ask whether she had to have it surgically removed at the end of each day?
Instead she enquired whether the barmaid knew if this was the same leisure center as the one Carrie Shilling used?
“I’m a really, big fan of hers, you see, and it would be really great to think I was working out in the same place she uses.”
The Goddess’s smile flickered and she blinked rapidly. Isobel was reminded of a Stepford wife.
“Carrie Shilling comes here?”The Goddess gasped. “You sure?”
“Yes, I think so.”Isobel replied enthusiastically. “I’m pretty certain I heard one of the other staff talking about her and I was just wondering if you knew for definite.”
The Goddess blinked again. “I’m sorry, I don’t, but wouldn’t it be great if she did! Wow! Carrie Shilling! I’d love to get her autograph!”
“Wouldn’t we all.”Isobel said, thinking there was no point in wasting any more time here. “I’d better be going. Sorry to have bothered you.”And shouldering the holdall, she slid off her stool and left the bar, feeling sick at the idea of having to bonk the lifeguard.
“That’s it baby... yes.. yes.. suck it hard... suck it HARD!”
Squashed into a tiny storage room with Isobel, his dick stuffed in her mouth, the lifeguard was getting ready to come.
Isobel hoped it would be soon. Closing her eyes, she braced herself against the awful inevitability of him shooting his load into her mouth and prayed she wouldn’t vomit. Swallowing hadn’t been one of the conditions.
The agreement that he be allowed to lick her out afterwards had.
Worse luck. Still, as revolting as it all was, it had been worth it.
Desperate to be sucked, he’d moaned out the answers even as she’d been easing down his shorts to cup his hairy balls in her hands and with his throbbing dick twitching up and down inches from her waiting mouth, the briefest of licks was all it had taken for him to blurt out everything she’d wanted to know.
The only disadvantage was having to swap places with him.
He came and Isobel spat into the shadows. Her fingers scooping the rankness from her tongue even as the lifeguard sank to his knees and shoved down her panties.
He was useless at it too. His technique consisting of nothing more than nosily running his tongue up and down her slit, before forcing a finger inside her. Not part of the deal although she put up with it anyway, her mind blanking him out so she could concentrate on imagining hardening nipples pushing against an overstretched blouse.
By late morning, Isobel’s prospects of becoming invisible started to look up. The leisure centre was busy and the staff, rushed off their feet trying to supervise yet another crowd of school kids and a group of penshioners who wanted to know if there was a discount for the over sixties, were hardly going to notice her if she slipped off somewhere she shouldn’t be.
She was also starting to finally get rid of the feel of him, thanks to twenty minutes under warm water, though she doubted if one shower would be enough. She could still taste him and feel his oily fingers and even her fantasy had let her down in the end, when on the point of orgasm, she had foolishly opened her eyes and seen, not the blonde hair in her imagination, but the close cropped hairstyle of the lifeguard, busily jamming his fingers into her cunt and telling her to come baby, come!
Prat!
Persistant prat too, for here he was again!
Bloody hell, couldn’t she even eat in peace?
Apparently not, for upon spotting Isobel he sauntered over to her table in the resturant with two of his mates in tow. The three of them grinning inanely as he leant across her table, helped himself to a scoop of her jacket potato and then suggested that she might want to help out his friends in the same way as she’d helped him?
Isobel didn’t flinch. Instead, she put aside her cutlery and smiling sweetly offered her apologies. The thing was, she explained, that thanks to the phenomenal seeing to he’d just given her, she couldn’t possibly oblige them now as her pussy was still recovering, but if they’d like to meet her after work she’d see what she could do. However there was on condition. Before they got to fuck her they first had to have a jolly, good wank and cover themselves in their own spunk. She just adored the taste, you see, and if they were covered in it, she simply wouldn’t be able to resist licking it off.
Practically coming already, the lifeguards couldn’t agree fast enough and after promising they would do exactly as she asked, made her promise she wouldn’t be late.
Isobel promised she wouldn’t and chuckling to herself watched them hobble off. Of course she wouldn’t be late. Not would she be early. In fact, she wouldn’t be there at all, which was a pity really. Their faces would have been a picture!
The clock struck one as Isobel left the restaurant and taking the lift down to the ground floor she walked towards the gymnasium.
She didn’t go in. The grunt of physical exertion floating through the door, plus the sound of a male voice demanding another five push ups, was enough to put anyone off and scurrying past she carried on along the cool, pristine corridor and stopped outside room number 3.
This was the room Carrie Shilling had reportedly used earlier for martial arts training and it was small and relatively empty. The only additions a mirror running along the entire length of one wall, and as Isobel pulled open the door and smelt the strong aroma of floor wax, her hiding place. A dozen or so crash mats stacked against the wall.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Carrie loved being woken by Andrea in the morning.
It started so softly. Just the faintest trace of a finger gliding down her back, before a single kiss was dropped on her bare shoulder, and a hand wrapped itself around her waist to hold her gently.
Sometimes she would already be awake before Andrea had a chance to do any of this, but she would never let on. Instead she would feign sleep until Andrea’s body was wrappe
d around hers and only then would she stir. Rolling over into Andrea’s arms and loosing herself in the soft, enfolding embrace of another woman.
It was a beautiful way to wake up, and one she usually loved, except today it seemed as though Andrea’s gentle embrace had been replaced by something far rougher, and jolting from her sleep, Carrie at first thought she was still dreaming.
But then she opened her eyes and awareness flooded in and she saw Andrea’s hand, firmly shaking her shoulder as she repeated her name over and over again.
“At last!”Andrea said in exasperation, as Carrie finally stirred. “It’s six o’clock babe, time to get up. We have a date at the leisure center remember?”
“Bugger off!”Carrie grumbled, burying herself under the duvet. “For God’s sake Andrea! It’s still the middle of the bloody night!”
Andrea tutted. “Six o’clock is not the middle of the night, my girl. I’ve been up for at least half an hour. Now are you going to get up or do I have come in there and drag you out?”
“Do what you like. I’m not going anywhere!”
“Really? Well just to remind you darling, it was you who suggested using the leisure centre before the rest of the world woke up and it was you who agreed to give the sessions one more try. Now are you getting up or not?”
“Not!”
“Fine, then we’ll just have to go later when everybody else is there and you can train while being leered at through the door. That do you?”
Carrie growled and flinging back the covers fixed Andrea with a sour look.
“All right! I’m up! Are you happy now?”
“Ecstatic.”Andrea smiled. “I love it when you’re angry.”
Isobel’s leg had gone to sleep. Which hadn’t been a problem all the time the rest of her body had been joining in, but now she was awake, it was bloody hurting!
She had cricks in her neck as well and rolling her head from side to side, she wondered why anyone would actually choose to go camping when there were perfectly good hotels to check into?