I turn the key.
“Thank you.” I smile and give him a little wave.
To my further surprise, Todd takes a little bow before he too goes back to his car.
My fingers drum on the steering wheel as I make my way out of the car park.
Was that wise, Ms. Palmer? my inner voice wants to know. Of course it was, I reassure it and myself.
I only agreed to have dinner with him.
Dinner will give me the opportunity to mingle with one of my leading actors of the film. And mingling with the actors is a good thing. Mingling allows us to pick each other’s brain—and other things too, a voice from somewhere pipes up.
Fool. You are a fool—that sensible part in me keeps on voicing its opinion.
If I’m honest, I have no idea why I agreed to this dinner. He must have caught me off guard. After a long day, I’m just too tired to make proper decisions.
Admit it Sophie, he’s hot and you wouldn’t mind getting to know him, my other voice interjects, and I decide to stop dwelling on the topic of Todd and the upcoming dinner.
Que Sera, Sera—what happens, happens.
Todd
To my own surprise, my heart is beating a little faster than usual when the doorbell rings, and I stop in front of the hallway mirror to make sure my hair looks good.
If there’s one thing I hate, it’s bad hair days. My hair is my pride and joy. I still can’t get over the fact that the hair dude on the film set has not been fired.
As I unlock the door, I take a deep breath to calm down before I open it. I can’t understand my own reaction to my visitor. Usually I’m cool, calm and collected, not a nervous wreck.
“Hey,” I smile and take a step to the side.
Sophie looks stunning. My eyes take in her legs that are barely covered in an ultra-short miniskirt, and her white blouse, buttoned up to just the right spot. I can make out the pink lace of her bra. Quickly, I look her in the eyes. She’s smiling.
“Glad you came,” I say more to break the silence than anything else, but as I say it, I realize it’s the truth—I’m glad she came.
“Come into my castle.”
She laughs, and I bathe in her smile and eyes. Her face lights up when she smiles.
“Doesn’t look much like a castle,” she replies and follows me into my kingdom.
“Fair maiden,” I hold up my right. “Do not let your eyes deceive you. Have you not heard the saying ‘not everything is as it first appears’?”
Genuine belly laughter.
“I can’t say I have.”
I turn toward her and put my hands on my hips.
“And you call yourself a creative person.”
She just shrugs.
“Please take a seat while I prepare dinner.”
Gracefully, Sophie sits on my white leather lounge. One leg slides casually over the other. Her foot taps to some unheard beat in the air. She leans back into the plush black cushions and I wish Blake could paint her. The man sure knows how to capture a moment.
“So.” I pull out my phone.
“You prepare dinner with your phone?” She raises her eyebrows and her voice sounds like she’s mocking me.
“Doesn’t everyone?”
This has her bursting out in another fit of laughter. She shakes her head.
“I usually prepare dinner in the kitchen without the phone, just using pots and pans. You’ve heard of those?”
I pretend to think before I shake my head.
“Can’t say I have. As I was saying, for dinner I shall get us some take away.”
“I hadn’t really expected you to cook.” She laughs.
Crushed, I hold up my hands.
“What? An insult in the first five minutes of being in my home? I can’t believe it.”
Sophie shakes her head.
“Ok. So, what do you fancy?”
“You’re the master chef, you decide.”
I like this girl. I press speed dial. Naturally, my favorite takeaway place is on top of the list. After I’ve ordered, I head to the bar to prepare us a couple of drinks.
Sophie has left her spot on the couch and is meandering through my living room.
“I love these paintings.”
Sophie is standing in front of one of my favorite pictures.
“Look at the colors and emotions in this one. Reds, yellows and oranges combine in a dance of fury. Who painted these?”
“One of my childhood friends, Blake—he’s a painter. These are part of a series.”
“Wow.” Sophie sounds impressed.
“He’s very talented.” I agree and hand her a glass with a pre-dinner drink.
“What about your parents? They must be very proud.”
I lower my eyes and take a sip of my drink. Parents. Feelings. Touchy subjects I don’t discuss with anyone. And yet, there’s something about this woman that compels me to share my past with her.
“My parents were perfect.” I start, but I have to take a breath to keep going.
“A skiing accident took their lives away, just after my first big movie success.”
It’s difficult to keep going. I haven’t told many people about this.
“I’m so sorry.” She’s put a hand in front of her mouth. “I had no idea. I shouldn’t have asked. Please forgive me.”
Her compassion touches me. She seems to genuinely care.
I clear my throat.
“After they died, I think I caught a bit of attitude. You know, dealing with the death of your parents at a fairly young age leaves its mark. I felt treated badly, and so I acted out.”
Sophie nods and I think there’s a tear in her eyes.
“Oh, Todd. I can’t begin to imagine what that must feel like.”
Thankfully, we are interrupted by the delivery of our food. I don’t go for all that touchy-feely crap.
When I open the box of goodies, Sophie laughs.
“You go for cheesy, fatty food?”
I nod as I bite into my cheeseburger and slurp on my milkshake.
“Comfort food. I like my comfort food.”
Briefly, I wonder if Sophie is the type of chick to be on one of those new age diets, the one where you can barely eat anything other than bottled organic water. Just then, Sophie takes a bite of her own burger, a little bit of fat running down her cheek as she bites into it.
I lean forward and wipe the trail off her chin. She holds still and our eyes lock until she looks away.
“This is good,” she says with her mouthful of food.
After her burger is gone, she grabs a buffalo wing and resumes her tour of the room. She stops in front of my movie and CD collection. Randomly, she pulls out movies, making little comments here and there, until she stops and holds one up in the air.
“So,” she looks at me. “You’ve been researching the director of your current film.”
I smile.
“I had to. You gotta know what you’re getting into.”
She shakes her head.
“Todd Alexander, you really are very different from how the press presents you.”
I take a little bow.
“I hope that’s a compliment.”
Sophie chuckles and puts the film back.
“My, my, you have more than one of my films. You really have done your homework.”
I shrug.
“I had to see how good you are.”
Her right eyebrow arches a little.
“I knew you must be good because you are a Palmer, but boy, I had no idea how good you really are. Your last one, The Streets of Brooklyn, really spoke to me. I was in tears by the end.”
Now she’s embarrassed. Her cheeks are a light tinge of red, and all I want to do is go and kiss her.
“You are full of surprises…from the food you like to the way you approach your work.”
“I hope they are pleasant surprises,” I say and see her face go even redder.
Sophie
Talk about putting my foot
in it—and not just a dainty little foot. No, more like a giant elephant foot.
“I can’t believe you did your homework.”
I don’t like eating humble pie, but then again, I’m not one to shy away from admitting being wrong. And maybe I was wrong about Todd.
Todd just shrugs.
“I didn’t do any research on you.”
I feel the need to be honest. He was honest with me; it is only fair I extend him the same courtesy.
“I haven’t even watched any of your films.”
No point in lying about this.
To my surprise, he laughs.
“I’m sure, you thought the media footage of me lately was all you needed to know.”
Right now, a tomato wouldn’t be as red as I am. I chew my bottom lip. Suddenly, I feel about as small as a snail—no, probably smaller.
“Well,” I try and think of something to say that is remotely polite. Alice’s words come back to me. What had she said, something about listening to his side of the story?
“So,” I start and play with the gold pendant around my neck. “What did actually happen at the restaurant?”
Todd sighs.
“If I tell you what you saw on the news was not the whole story, you’ll think I’m bullshitting you.”
I shake my head.
“No. No, I won’t.” I stop. It’s true; I know there’s always more to these sensational stories than meet the eye. I should know, they often do not tell the whole story.
“Please tell me what happened.”
I’ve gone to sit on his lounge. Since I’m in bare feet, I slide my legs under me. Todd comes to sit next to me. My breathing increases ever so slightly.
“The man was actually at the restaurant with a woman,” starts Todd. “I’m not sure if she was his wife. But there they were, enjoying a meal, when suddenly, he picked up his glass and threw the water into the face of the woman.”
I suck in my breath. How awful. I can picture the scene vividly.
“The water is dripping off the woman’s face and onto her lap. But he does not stop there. He stands up, leans on the table, and proceeds to yell at the top of his lungs at this poor woman, who looked like a drowning poodle. Eventually, I think she could stand it no longer and stood to leave. At about this time, I had enough too and confronted the little weasel.”
I shake my head in disbelief.
“Why didn’t someone throw him out before you interfered,” the words are out before I can stop them.
“Sorry,” I mutter. It sounds as if I’m being critical and I don’t mean to be.
But he doesn’t seem to be offended by it.
“Good question,” Todd holds up his hands. “I heard someone say something about the little man being related to the owner. But hey, your guess is as good mine.”
I take a sip of my drink and shake my head.
“If there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s men being aggressive toward women.” Todd pauses and stares at his hands. “I mean, if you don’t want to be with the woman, leave. It’s a free country.”
“I wonder why the press isolated the incident to make you look bad?”
Despite my better judgment, I find myself warming to Todd Alexander. I’m remarkably comfortable in his apartment, which is not over the top, as I was expecting.
“Goes with the bad boy image, I guess,” he offers a crooked smile and shrugs. Suddenly, he looks like a lost little boy and I resist the urge to rub my finger over his cheek and tell him things will be all right.
“It’s not fair though, is it?”
“But that’s life, and you get used to it. It never said anywhere it was going to be fair.”
My gaze finds one of the paintings. It draws me in. The colors are amazing. There are swirls of blues, purples and whites.
“I’m sorry about the way I’ve treated some of the crew, and about firing the hair stylist.”
Todd’s remorse pulls me out of my trance.
I turn toward him, although I would like to keep looking at the painting.
“It’s just,” he runs his own hands through his hair, as if searching for inspiration. “I don’t know how to explain it properly, but if you are too soft on people all the time, they don’t live up to their best.”
Silence.
I try not to move. I’m hanging on every word he has to say.
“We seem to live in a time where you’re not allowed to call black, black. We avoid conflicts. People don’t give their best because being ordinary, according to many, is being extraordinary. But I think if you ruffle feathers from time to time, and say it how it is, people will be better.”
I nod.
“I know what you mean.”
My parents both called a spade a spade, they never believed in praising where praise was not due. Todd might just have a point.
“What about you?”
The question throws me off.
“What about me?”
“You must have had your fair share of interesting times.”
I swirl my answers around my head, working out what and how much I’m going to tell him.
“It’s hard being a Palmer, that’s for sure.” I start and see him relax into the couch next to me.
“I got big boots to fill.” I continue. “Everyone expects me to follow in dad’s footsteps, and since he’s one of the greats,” I hold out my hands, “it’s expected I will do well too, if not great. My destiny is decided before I can create it.” I shake my head.
Speaking about it makes me realize how much pressure there is.
“That’s why it’s important to me for this film to be a success.” I pause again. “I don’t think it’s so much about showing other people, it’s more about proving to dad I can be great.”
“Pays to have a thick skin in this industry,” says Todd and smiles at me.
I sigh.
“I guess so.”
“And to have a thick skin, you have to act like you have one.”
I raise an eyebrow in question.
“Well, fake it, ‘til you make it. The media portrays me like I don’t give a fuck, and I don’t, most of the time.” He laughs at himself and I join in.
“This is great. You know I’ve never told anyone else so much about me before, other than Jordan of course. You’ve got ammunition now, Ms. Palmer.”
His forefinger touches the tip of my nose.
I shake my head and find my nerve endings are tingling.
I may have misjudged Todd Alexander.
Sophie
I feel his eyes travel over me, eyes full of lust and desire. As they do, my nerve endings scream for his touch, and it takes all my self-control not to throw myself at him.
Todd leans toward me, his movements slow and deliberate.
“Has anyone else ever told you how beautiful you are?”
As he speaks, the index finger of his right hand is drawing little circles around my neck. My skin burns from his touch. Ripples of ecstasy travel through me.
I want to throw myself on top of him. I have never known such intense desire before. There’s a hungry and ferocious beast inside me.
I shake my head. My throat is too dry to speak. It’s as if I’m just returning from forty-two days in the desert.
Todd smiles. I love the dimples in each cheek. I imagine kissing him there, and other places.
His finger now trails along my collarbone and down my chest. I start to breathe heavily as if I’m running a marathon. My body aches for his touch. Longing spreads through me.
I’m amazed at myself for being so ready to fuck Todd Alexander.
“In fact, you are so beautiful I don’t know what words to use to describe it. Like a rose in full bloom…you light up the room when you enter it.” He sounds a little hoarse.
I smile. My eyes devour him. My gaze travels along his chest and down to the bulge in his pants.
I lick my lips in anticipation. Surely this kind of talk can only lead to one thing.
&n
bsp; “I bet you say that to all the girls,” I whisper. I tilt my head back a little. He can have whatever part he wants of me, and he can have it now.
Todd chuckles.
“I can assure you I have never said this to anyone.” His tone is a little more serious.
I don’t care. I want to scream at him, but no sound other than a little purr escapes my lips. The tingling of anticipation is building.
His finger makes its way to my lips. Butterfly-like, they travel across my chest, down toward the gap between my breasts. A little moan escapes my lips.
A hand pushes itself under my skirt, finding my wet pussy. My thong is no barrier for his determined fingers.
Suddenly, he stops. I feel as if my favorite toy has been taken from me.
What the fuck is going on?
Before I can complain, he grabs me by the wrists and pulls me off the couch.
“Let’s go somewhere more comfortable,” says Todd as he heads toward a room at the back of his apartment. Like a willing slave, I follow. In a way, I have no choice as he’s still holding onto my wrists.
Desire is rushing through me, followed by lust.
The moment we’re through the door, he pushes me against the wall. His actions are rough and almost brutal. Taken by surprise, I feel my heartbeat quicken.
With one hand he pins me against the wall, both arms up over my head, as the other explores under my skirt. My flimsy thong is ripped off me with one deft move of his hands, and then his fingers find my wet opening.
At the same time, his lips crush down on mine, demanding, forceful, and full of passion. His tongue forces its way into my mouth where it intertwines with mine. I’m crushed by his weight, and I want more, so much more.
If I could move, I would use my hands to explore his chest, six-pack, and ass. But Todd is still pinning my arms up above my head.
I wiggle my hips from side to side. I want to get closer to him. I want to feel him.
Suddenly his fingers leave my wet pussy and lift my right leg. Somehow Todd gets his pants off and pushes his bulging cock against my pussy. His tongue is dancing with mine, lips crushed against mine.
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