Idol

by Carrie Duffy

  ‘I …’ Sadie faltered. The woman was watching her, an amused look on her face.

  ‘I thought you might enjoy it. I know I would,’ Paul murmured softly. His breath was warm against her neck, his tone persuasive.

  ‘Who is she?’ Sadie demanded, trying to put the pieces together. Her words were a little slurred, and she took a slug of champagne to steady herself. Was this his wife? It certainly didn’t seem like it, unless his wife had a thing for fetish clothing and slutty underwear. It was pure hooker chic.

  And then the penny dropped.

  ‘She’s a prostitute!’ Sadie burst out.

  ‘That’s not very polite,’ Paul admonished her with a smirk. ‘I prefer the term escort. You should be flattered; she’s one of the best in the business. I didn’t just pick her up off the pavement outside King’s Cross, you know.’

  Sadie swallowed, feeling uneasy.

  ‘Not getting frigid on me are you? I’ve got a wife for that.’ Paul laughed at his own joke. ‘Perhaps another drink might chill you out. I have your favourite.’

  He moved across to the dresser, and Sadie noticed a tray set up with a bottle of Grey Goose vodka, three glasses and an ice container. Paul fixed her one, adding a block of ice with a generous measure of alcohol.

  Sadie took it. She hesitated for a brief moment, then knocked the drink back in one, the clear liquid burning her throat. It was instantly soothing, numbing her thoughts and making her delightfully fuzzy-headed. She glanced up at Paul standing in front of her and saw the familiar flames of desire blaze in those pale, blue eyes. He was looking at her in that way. The way that said he wanted to fuck her right now, that he would explode if he couldn’t get his cock inside her.

  Involuntarily, she felt a rush of heat between her legs. What the hell, Sadie thought hazily, her inhibitions rapidly disappearing. Maybe it would be fun. Wasn’t that what this fling with Paul was all about? Trying new things, learning about herself sexually. She’d never considered herself a prude, and she badly wanted to please him.

  Maybe Paul was right. This could be one hell of an experience. It could be wild.

  She stepped towards him and Paul was instantly upon her, holding her head tightly between his palms as he kissed her deeply, his tongue roaming inside her mouth. She didn’t hear Leilani get up from the bed but suddenly Sadie was aware that she was behind her, sliding her hands round to the front to undo the belt on Sadie’s trench. One by one, she undid the buttons until the coat was hanging open. Sadie pressed herself against Paul as Leilani slipped the coat from Sadie’s shoulders, leaving her naked apart from the black Louboutins.

  Paul began to unbutton his shirt as Sadie stood awkwardly. He pushed her gently towards Leilani and Sadie acquiesced. She closed her eyes as Leilani drew closer, feeling the other woman’s mouth on hers. It was soft and warm, more gentle than kissing Paul had been. Feeling brave, she caressed Leilani’s shoulders as Leilani began to kiss her neck, her hands on her breasts, her mouth moving down to her nipples. Sadie lazily opened her eyes, wondering where Paul was. He was completely naked now, smiling as he watched the pair of them.

  He indicated they should move to the bed. Sadie slipped out of her shoes and climbed on, sinking into the soft sheets. The bed was enormous and she lay back, drunk and horny. She felt hands on her – she didn’t know whose – but they seemed to be everywhere, doing everything she wanted. She felt a warm breath between her legs, a tongue flicking at her breasts, and then Paul’s cock was at her mouth and she opened her lips and took him.

  Sadie felt like she was floating, as though all of her feelings were crystallizing into the one point of heat between her legs, so intense it was almost unbearable. She could feel the first delicious waves of orgasm building, pulling her in, until that was all she could think about. Closing her eyes, she lay back and surrendered to it.

  11

  The day after the scandal broke, Jenna found herself in glorious seclusion, holed up in Gerry’s luxury villa on the Cap d’Antibes. Stretching lazily on a sun lounger, Jenna extended one toned, slim arm and carefully applied lotion, admiring the way her skin had already begun to darken to a rich, golden colour. Her pale blonde hair had turned almost platinum following its exposure to the hot Côte d’Azur sun, and she looked stunning.

  Jenna readjusted the thin scrap of fabric that was her Melissa Odabash bikini top and settled back comfortably, allowing the humid air to wrap itself around her in a reassuring embrace. The villa was equipped with a top-of-the-range security system and surrounded by high, spike-topped walls, meaning total freedom from the dreaded paparazzi. Jenna hadn’t seen the papers since she’d left England and she didn’t intend to. She had faith in Gerry to handle it, and for the moment she didn’t want to consider anything more taxing than chilling out and de-stressing. Jenna took a deep breath as she tried to encourage her body to relax completely, inhaling the faint scent of the clematis plants that sprawled freely over the white stone walls.

  Gerry’s villa was beautiful, but somewhat eclectic in its design. The interior walls were all exposed stone with a few brightly coloured paintings by Picasso and Gauguin to break the monotony of the ashen backdrop. A huge stone fireplace, piled high with logs, dominated the main sitting room and was surrounded by an enormous semi-circle of white sofas.

  The kitchen, with its tiled floor and solid oak table, looked more suited to a traditional Provençal farmhouse than a luxury villa on the French Riviera. Jenna had checked the fridge and found it stuffed full of glorious-looking cuisine, including a vast dish of Mediterranean-style couscous, fresh pasta sauce laden with roast vegetables, and masses of fresh fruit and salad. In the bread bin were fresh baguettes as well as a loaf of American-style sliced bread and a tempting range of pastries. Fortunately, the villa also contained a small annexe that Gerry had had converted into a gym, so Jenna decided that she could indulge in the delicious-looking pâtisserie; as long as she resolved to work it off later on the treadmill.

  The master bedroom was amazing, and completely over the top. It was surprisingly feminine – an explosion of frills, nets and voiles – leading Jenna to think that Gerry’s wife had been the one working closely with the designer. In the centre of the room stood an enormous, heavy, wooden four-poster bed, a stunningly romantic creation draped in white muslin. Sleeping there made Jenna feel like the heroine from some children’s fairytale. The floor-to-ceiling windows faced due south, filling the room with beautiful pools of sunlight, and they led out onto a pillared balcony, which overlooked the infinity pool and immaculately kept gardens below.

  It might not be the Hotel du Cap, but I could definitely enjoy this for a few days, thought Jenna, as she pushed her Gucci sunglasses further up her nose and relaxed into the soft fabric of the sun lounger, confident that the press would be unable to find her in the secluded hideaway.

  Jenna’s refusal to read the British papers or even check her email while she was in France meant that she remained ignorant of Clive Goldman’s latest PR master-stroke. The day after she flew out to Nice, Clive released a picture that made the front pages of all the papers. It showed a beaming Ryan standing with his arms round a radiant Kelly. The accompanying text informed the reader that Kelly was three months pregnant with their third child.

  Back in the UK, Gerry was making good on his promise to resolve the situation with Phoenix. He and the band were at the Fulham offices of Ultimate Management, on a video call to Clive in LA. Wrangling had been going on for over an hour, and everyone was flagging.

  ‘Okay guys, it’s your call,’ Clive explained to a lethargic Phoenix. ‘Naturally, we’d prefer it if the single went ahead – successfully. As callous as it sounds, this has been excellent publicity. I’ve spoken to Don and he mentioned that although you’re having a few problems, there’s some good material coming out.

  ‘But if you guys really can’t work with Jenna and the record’s going to be …’ he hesitated, selecting the right word, ‘… compromised, because of that, I don’t want to p
ut your reputation on the line. This is the first track you’re putting out there without Josh and it has to be incredible or else the press will be writing Phoenix’s obituary.’

  There was a pause while the band collected their thoughts. Unusually, it was Ryan who spoke first. He blamed himself for the current situation, mad at himself for not scoping out the street that night. He’d been so preoccupied with Jenna that he hadn’t even thought to check for paparazzi. It was a schoolboy error. Now his band faced being written off before they’d even made their comeback, and his newly pregnant wife was pissed at him.

  ‘I think …’ he began, then trailed off as he thought about how to phrase the ideas in his head. ‘I mean … Is it really worth it? Carrying on like this?’ Zac’s head snapped up, and Ryan found he had the rapt attention of the others. ‘Maybe we should call it a day?’

  He let the thought hang, waiting to see the reaction. Clive didn’t speak and Ryan was grateful for that; he knew it was something the band had to work out for themselves.

  ‘I mean, it feels to me as if nothing’s changed since Josh left. We’re still going round in circles, having the same old arguments, and it’s not getting us anywhere,’ Ryan explained tentatively. ‘I just thought I’d put the idea out there. I thought it needed voicing.’

  The room fell silent. Gerry cleared his throat awkwardly, knowing that this discussion was something he wasn’t part of. He was here to fight Jenna’s corner, but this decision was ultimately down to Phoenix.

  ‘I don’t wanna do that. I want to carry on,’ stated Nick mutinously. ‘Phoenix means everything to me. Come on guys,’ he appealed to them. ‘So many bands break up for stupid reasons, and never achieve half the things they could have if they’d just tried a little harder. I know we can work through this,’ he urged them. ‘Think of all the things we’ve done, all the dreams we fulfilled – impossible things that no one else ever has. Remember when we were just four kids starting off and we wanted to conquer the world? We fucking did it, guys. We dreamed it, and we lived it, and I don’t want to throw all that away.’

  Nick sat back in his chair. He’d said his piece and it was out of his hands now.

  Finally, Zac spoke.

  ‘I don’t know what … I don’t know,’ he finished, his brow furrowed with confusion. ‘I need to think about this properly, but my instinct is that no, I don’t think we should split. We went over all this when Josh left, and I guess my position now is the same as it was then – that we’re not over yet, and there’s still a lot we can do. Ryan?’

  ‘I don’t want to split either,’ Ryan began slowly. ‘I guess … I just thought I’d throw it out there and see what happened.’ He smiled, relieved, at his band mates. The feeling of tension lifting was palpable across the room.

  ‘Well, I’m happy I still have a band,’ Clive commented. He tried to keep his tone light but his relief was obvious, even from five thousand miles away. ‘So where do we go from here?’

  ‘I kind of had an idea,’ began Nick hesitantly. ‘Half an idea really,’ he grinned, looking round the room. ‘It’s just … well, you know I’ve got my place in Ibiza?’

  Zac and Ryan smiled in recognition. Nick’s holiday retreat in the mountains had been the scene of some wild partying when the group wanted to escape.

  ‘It’s all fitted out with recording equipment now, kind of like a small studio. I had an old farm building converted a few months back, so I can play around, test out some ideas while I’m out there.’

  ‘I think I get where this is heading, but spell it out for me,’ said Clive, looking amused.

  ‘Well,’ Nick grinned, ‘Why don’t we all head out there for a few days? Or however long it takes? It’s such a beautiful spot, and it might be just what we need. It’d be so relaxing – the sun, the sea …’

  ‘And the rest.’ Clive raised an eyebrow.

  Nick flushed and ran a hand through his hair. ‘What do you think guys? It’d be awesome. A sort of working vacation, but we could all just chill and run through some ideas. It might give the single a really interesting vibe.’

  For the first time since the meeting had begun, Zac smiled genuinely. ‘Yeah, I guess it could be fun,’ he replied, breaking into a grin that made his dark eyes crinkle at the corners.

  ‘And Don can do some polishing up back in London,’ Nick rushed on. ‘We can just lay down the basics and he can do all his mixing and work his magic later.’ He looked eagerly round the room, his eyes betraying his excitement at the thought of decamping to the Balearics with his band mates for a few leisurely, hedonistic days of music and partying.

  That, and the thought of Jenna Jonsson in a bikini.

  ‘What do you think Ryan?’ asked Clive, noticing that he hadn’t spoken.

  ‘Yeah, totally. I think it’s a great idea,’ he enthused. ‘I mean, I’ll have to check with Kelly and all. I don’t really want to leave her for too long now that she’s pregnant, so we’d probably all fly out – the kids as well – but maybe a few days away would be good,’ he rambled, wondering how Kelly would react. Although he was fairly sure she believed him that nothing had happened between him and Jenna, her pregnancy hormones were making her pretty insecure. He wasn’t sure she’d thank him for agreeing to this.

  ‘Sure,’ laughed Nick good-naturedly, punching him on the shoulder. ‘Bring your whole brood – it’ll be fuckin’ awesome!’

  ‘And Jenna?’ Clive asked. ‘Gerry, do you think she’ll go for it?’

  Gerry’s mouth twitched at the corners. A working vacation in Ibiza, with her favourite band on the planet? ‘Yeah, I reckon she will,’ he said casually.

  Nick whooped, throwing his arms above his head in triumph.

  Clive nodded slowly, spreading his hands as though to acknowledge defeat. ‘Then I guess I have to give it my blessing. Go ahead. Just don’t fuck it up,’ he added warningly.

  Tom Anderson was not a religious man, but every day he thanked God that he’d been born in the age of the Internet. For in Tom’s life there was only one thing he really cared about. Something he loved more than his girlfriend, Carla, or even his mother. Pornography.

  A self-confessed geek, he’d already been interested in computers when the Internet explosion really took off. For Tom, it was the answer to his prayers. Every type of porn known to man or beast – and possibly involving the two together – was available at the click of a button. With just a credit card and a laptop, he need never leave his room again.

  Tom tapped a few keys on his girlfriend’s laptop and a whole list of titles popped up. He selected one and set it downloading. Easy. Like candy from a baby.

  He knew Carla hated him using her computer for this stuff, but what the hell. She was in the shower. By the time she came out it would be a fait accompli, and Tom knew he’d be able to win her round.

  His latest obsession was homemade stuff. Lately he’d found all that mass-produced crap just didn’t do it for him any more. Besides, real people were dirtier than anything a film director could dream up.

  The door clicked open and Tom jumped guiltily as Carla walked in. She was wrapped in a white robe, towelling her dark hair.

  ‘Hey babe.’ Carla kissed him on the forehead. ‘What time are we going out?’

  ‘I’m not sure …’ Tom shrugged in a noncommittal way. ‘Later?’

  Carla glanced at the clock. ‘We are still going, aren’t we?’ Tom had a habit of promising to take her somewhere nice, then changing his mind at the last minute.

  ‘Course we are … I just thought we could have a little you and me time first.’

  Carla sat down on the bed, leaning over his shoulder to view the computer screen. ‘Tom, you know I don’t like you downloading that kind of stuff …’ She tried to keep her tone light; it pissed him off when she got all whiny. ‘I thought we were going to go for a nice meal. I don’t really want to watch –’ she peered closer – ‘Hot Asian Babe Threesome.’

  ‘Car-la,’ Tom pleaded, doing his little-boy voice. ‘I
t’s for you and me. To enjoy together. Look, I’ll delete it when we’re done,’ he said sulkily. She didn’t answer, and he took her hands in his. ‘Please baby. If you loved me you’d do it …’

  ‘Tom, I do love you. I’m just not really into that kind of thing,’ she said helplessly, willing him to change his mind. Maybe he’d just drop the subject and order them a taxi.

  ‘You don’t have to watch. I could blindfold you,’ Tom suggested hopefully. ‘Come on Carla, don’t get all frigid on me.’

  ‘Tom …’ she protested weakly. She was on the verge of tears as he began tugging at her robe. He loosened the belt and it fell open, exposing her tiny body.

  Tom was instantly hard. ‘Look what you’ve done to me, Carla,’ he whispered, indicating his unimpressive erection. ‘That’s going to need sorting out.’

  Carla looked up at him with glistening eyes, hoping she had misinterpreted what he was saying. But no, he was already sliding out of his trousers and pressing play on the computer. Hot Asian Babe Threesome sprang into life and Tom settled himself down on the bed beside her.

  Carla hesitated. If she was lucky it wouldn’t take long, and then it would all be forgotten about later in the evening as they sat in the restaurant drinking a nice bottle of red. She loved Tom, she truly did, and she knew that in his own way he loved her too. Or, at least, she hoped he did. She knew Sadie thought he was an arsehole, but they’d been together so long Carla didn’t know how she’d cope without him.

  She shrugged her robe off her shoulders and reluctantly knelt down on the floor. The cheap carpet scratched at her knees. She was face to face with Tom’s cock, and eyed it with distaste before tentatively wrapping her lips around it.

  ‘Oh yeah, that’s right …’ Tom said encouragingly.

  Mechanically Carla slid her lips up and down, sucking half-heartedly as she tried to avoid Tom’s attempts to force himself even deeper into her throat.