by Tia Siren
''I'm Harriet from the Times. Josh, talking in that manner really isn't going to get you very far. Don't you think it's insulting to women? Because I do.''
''Is that a question? Jesus your poor husband. I bet you make him beg when he wants to fuck you. Although why anyone would want to do that to you, I have no frigging idea. Tubby, I've had enough of this shit. Only one reasonable question, the rest were just prodding into my private life.''
Josh walked off the stage to more flashes. His bodyguards surrounded him and took him out of the room.
When they reached his hotel room, Josh opened the mini bar and took out a beer. ''Well that was a bunch of laughs.''
''Josh, you've got to stop swearing at everybody. The things you said about Emma and Harriet were unforgivable,'' Harry said.
''Fuck off, Tubby. What the hell do you know? The last time you dipped your wick the fucking Titanic was still in construction. Listen, I'm who I am. I write music and sing. I like to screw women, and I like to drink a few beers. What I don't like are people telling me what to do.''
''Insulting people isn't good for sales, though,'' Harry complained.
''I call you Tubby because you're a fat fucker. That hasn't stopped you working with me has it?''
''I only do that for the money, though. Do you think I would put up with you if you weren't a darn good earner for the label?''
''No I don't think you would, and I wouldn't blame you.'' Josh snapped the top off the bottle and took a swig.''But it's all about money. All those parasites just now were here to interview me because I'm selling their papers and magazines. What do you think sells better Tubby, a story about me insulting the bitches in the press or a story about my grandmother and how much she loves my music?'' Josh lay down on the bed and opened his shirt. The large Eagle on his chest looked ready to swoop down and peck Tubby's eyes out.
''I know Josh. I get the game too. But it's going too far. You just can't swear and insult people so much.''
''Who gives a toss. I don't insult my fans; they know I love 'em. But the press can fuck off and so can that asshole Prime Minster. Who the fuck does he think he is?''
*****
The crowd cheered, and the fireworks exploded. This was a Josh Bloodstone concert at it's best. The stadium was packed with fifty thousand adoring fans. Josh was the man women loved and men admired. When he bounced onto the stage, people went wild. He was the best-selling British artist since the Beatles. A household name, a person that you either, loved or hated. He was known in every household young or old.
It wasn't his music that had made him known to the older generation; it was Josh's ongoing feud with the Prime Minister. Josh wasn't a supporter of any party; he was on the side of fairness and honesty. One day the Prime Minister had said that the popular entertainment business was corrupting young kids into using drugs and alcohol. A journalist had asked Josh for his view on the Prime Minister's statement, and Josh had gone to town. He'd told the journalist that the Prime Minister was using words from the nineteen sixties and that he was a prude, and had done nothing for young people who happened to have the highest rate of unemployment in any category. He'd also cited the Prime Minister's reputation as a womanizer as not being a good example for young men. Once Josh had made it personal, the Prime Minister was out to get him and ruin him. But it was impossible. The kids loved him, and so did a lot of older people.
Josh threw his microphone stand in the air and caught it again. ''Hello Birmingham. How are you doing?'' The crowd erupted. ''What do with think of that asshole in number ten?'' he shouted. The stadium booed. 'What?'' the booing became louder.
When the first song started the crowd sang along, it was word perfect. It had been a number one hit in the UK charts for weeks.
Trish and Poppy were bouncing up and down at the front singing as loudly as they were able. They'd queued for hours to make sure they got a place at the front. From where they were, they could see him very well. As he sung and danced, the two shouted his name. ''Josh we're here. Come and get us.'' Poppy's breasts bounced up and down in her vest as she jumped in time to the beat. ''Oh my God, he's so good looking. Look, Trish, look how well hung he is.''
''Oh my God yes. Jesus,'' Trish said. ''I bet he's got a whopper.''
The last song Josh sang was a rock ballad about a young man's first love and how she jilted him. Trish and Poppy cried at the lyrics and the sound of Josh's voice as it hit the top note. ''Oh God,'' Trish shouted unable to contain herself. ''Josh come here and kiss me,''
Poppy screamed. ''Josh we love you. We'll always love you.''
Josh came and went and sang an encore. When he left the stage altogether, people began to file out of the stadium. But Trish and Poppy were determined. They were both eighteen and blonde, with large breasts and great bodies. ''If we hang around maybe he'll notice us,'' Poppy said.
''I just wanna shag him. He makes me so.......'' She didn't finish her sentence. A huge black man leaned over the barrier and waved to them.
''Josh wants you to come backstage.''
The girls screamed. Trish began to cry. ''No way?''
''Yes. He wants to talk to you two. Jump over the barrier.'' He caught them when they reached the other side. Trish was wearing jeans, but Poppy had more trouble in a skimpy skirt.
''Oh my God, that's him,'' Trish cried when they got to a large room behind the stage.
Josh saw them in the distance and walked over to them. ''Alright ladies? You two are gorgeous. I heard you shouting at me. So you love me do you?''
The two were now a little shy. Here was a man who had taken the world by storm, a man who flew all over the world and who was unimaginably handsome and rich. ''Yes we love you, Josh. You're great. Your music is so cool,'' Trish said.
''Yes Josh, we do love you. You're great for young people in our country.''
''So why don't you two come and have a drink with me and the boys. Would you like that?'' The girls looked at each other unable to hide their excitement.
''Oh my God,'' Trish whispered to Holly. ''Do you think he wants to .......you know?''
''I dunno. He can't come with both of us. Can he?'' Poppy said.
''I suppose he could if wanted to. But that would make us a bit lesbian as well,'' Trish observed.
''I don't give a dam. If he wants me, I don't care if I've got to see you naked as well.''
''Jesus Poppy, you are up for it,'' Trish said.
''Right ladies. A glass of bubbly each. Here we are. Cheers, here's to you two beauties. That's Trev, the drummer.'' The two looked at a very hairy man with huge biceps and a lot of earrings. ''And that's lead guitar, Andy.''
''God he's so nice,'' Trish whispered to Poppy with reference to Andy. Andy Pearson was widely known as the best rock guitarist in the world. His looks made him a regular on the covers of both men and women's magazines.
''Yer he is. Tell you what, you have him, and I'll have Josh,'' Poppy said.
They drank another three glasses of champagne by which time the two women were quite tipsy. Josh put his arm around Poppy and whispered to her. ''Do you wanna come to my room. I've got everything up there, except drugs. I hate drugs.''
Poppy instantly wished she was on the pill. ''I can't leave Trish,'' she said. ''Do you want us both to come to your room?''
''It's an idea, but she looks like she's doing fine with Andy.''
''I suppose.''
Poppy had had enough to drink, and when they got to Josh's room, she asked him if she could order some food. ''Course we can, darling. We can get whatever you want.'' Josh called room service and ordered a seafood platter with bread and yogurt.
''That's a very healthy choice,'' Poppy said.
''People think I'm a junkie. I like a few drinks. But I eat a healthy diet and work out. How else do you think I got this?'' He pointed to his six pack stomach. ''I'm sweaty, I'm going for a shower. Wanna join me?''
So that was her chance. The chance she and Trish had discussed so often in their bedrooms. They'd
often speculated about what it would be like to go to bed with Josh. Now here she was, standing in front of him and he'd just asked her to get naked with him in the shower.
''Josh, I'm not on the pill,'' she said.
''Who cares about that. I've got enough condoms to last me a lifetime. Strange really, a condom manufacturer sponsoring a bloke like me. But who's complaining?''
The bathroom was luxurious. Josh shut the door and pulled Poppy to him. ''You've got a great body.'' He kissed her, and she almost passed out with desire. He took off his shirt and threw it into the corner. Then his jeans came off. When she looked, she realized what she'd said to Trish, when they were in front of the stage, was true. She could see now that he was big.
''Now it's your turn. I wanna see some flesh, babe,'' he said.
Poppy blushed and began to take off her blouse. When her bra came into view, he sighed. ''You're perfect.'' Josh Bloodstone had just told her she was perfect. Now she was wetter than she had ever been.
''Now the rest,'' he said.
She pulled her skirt down and stepped towards him. ''You take the rest off, Josh.''
He unhooked her bra and let it fall to the floor, then he bent down, and pulled her panties down. ''These are soaking,'' he said reaching for her buttocks and pulling her onto his mouth.
Poppy cried out and came after just a minute. It wasn't the fact that a man was licking her womanhood, it was the fact that Josh Bloodstone was.
In the shower, he took her from behind. She stood with her hands against the shower wall, and her buttocks pressed backwards. When he slid inside her, she came again. But this time, he wasn't so gentle with her. He held her hips and pounded into her. Nobody had ever screwed her that hard and she loved it. When she looked back, she saw water dripping over his slim, muscular body. When he reached forward to squeeze her breasts, she came again so hard her knees gave way. Still he showed her no mercy; he remained inside her as they both went to the floor together. She knelt on the hard tiles, and he continued to thrust. Now hard thrusts, filling her, making her gasp. His grunts became more pronounced. Her cries too. His grip on her thighs tightened, and she felt his penis twitch and begin to spasm. As soon as he cried out, Poppy had her third orgasm, her womanhood milking him dry.
Afterwards, they lay on the huge round bed in the suite and ate. They were both dressed in white robes.
''You're a hell of a screw,'' he said.
''You are too. You know, you will be famous forever. I can imagine sitting in front of the TV and watching you playing to a small audience when you're about seventy. I'll be old then too. And I'll remember this night. A story I could tell my grandchildren. The evening I had sex with Josh Bloodstone.''
''You're a lot of fun, Poppy. What the hell do you do in life?''
''Nothing.''
''What do you mean?''
''I'm afraid I'm from a very rich family and at the moment, I don't do anything.''
''You're not Royalty are you?'' he asked.
''No.''
''Thank fuck for that. I imagined a spell in the Tower of London.''
''You're wild, Josh. Wild. I love that in a man. I want you to fuck me again after we've finished eating. I know it'll only be one night, so I want my money’s worth.''
They made love four times before Josh decided he was beaten. ''Fuck me, lady, you're insatiable,'' he complained at three in the morning. ''I wanna sleep now.''
They slept, their bodies spent and intertwined. At six, Polly needed the bathroom. When she came back, instead of getting into bed she decided to look out of the window. When she pulled the curtains back, she jumped as flash after flash illumined her naked body.
''What the hell?''Josh said. ''Did you just open the curtain in the nude?''
Poppy nodded.
''Then your tits and little blonde curls will be in all the tabloids tomorrow.'' Poppy began to sob. ''Why do you care. It could be the making of you. Modeling contracts, fashion deals, the whole works.''
''It's a bit more complicated than that Josh. My Dad's the Attorney General.''
''What?''
''My Dad's the Attorney General. The top legal man in the country.
''Fuck me rotten. That's my career down the pan,'' he complained.
*****
''Josh, we're talking about the Attorney General. Can you please take something in your life seriously.''
''How was I to know she was his daughter. She ain't got a fucking sign on her head, has she?''
''Will you stop swearing. He wants you prosecuted Josh. It's serious. Do you know how old she was?''
''Please don't say sixteen,'' Josh said. He hadn't thought to ask her age. She'd looked twenty-five.
''Eighteen. But only just.''
''So what's he complaining about then. I can tell him she wasn't a virgin either.''
''He's saying you took advantage of her. She's young and impressionable.''
''Listen, Tubby, I'll tell you this once and once only. You tell that jumped up lawyer that his daughter was of legal age and gave her consent. She was also a fucking amazing shag.''
Harry looked down at the desk in his office in despair. Josh was out of control. He might be a number one selling artist in sixteen countries, but he was beginning to bring the record label into disrepute. ''I can't do this Josh. You're out of control. If you carry on like this, you will break the law or at the very least offend someone enough to have yourself killed.''
''So what are you going to do Tubby? Sack me?''
''No. I'm going to put you into therapy.''
''You fucking what? Now you're the mad one.''
''Josh, if you have to screw around, make sure it's with an older woman, preferably divorced. In the meantime, I'm sending someone to you who will be able to help you with your behavior.''
''What? A shrink?'' Josh crossed his legs and wanted to light up a cigarette but thought better of it.
''A psychiatrist.''
''Fuck off. Imagine how that would look in the press if it got out. I can see the headlines now. 'Josh Bloodstone, Depressed and Suicidal.' Now way Tubby. No fucking way.''
*****
Loren Devaney looked in the mirror at her immaculate appearance. The ladies room at the London Savoy Hotel was probably the most luxurious lavatory in the world and before she met Harry Jones she wanted to freshen up.
''Loren, hi. It's great to see you again,'' Harry said, as he stood up from the table in the Savoy dining room.
''Great to see you too, Harry,'' Loren replied waiting for him to push her chair under her.
''Was the flight okay?''
''Fine. It's great to get out of New York for a while. London looks so nice in the summer. All the parks are wonderfully green.''
''Thanks for coming over. We've got a problem called Josh Bloodstone.''
''Ah yes. The brilliant musician, one of the world’s best looking men but out of control.''
''You've got it.'' Harry paused as he looked at the wine list. ''He's been really great for Brandy, he's really revived our fortunes. But it very hard to reconcile his worth in financial terms with his terrible behavior.''
''I've heard about his long-running feud with the Prime Minister and I managed to get a copy of the Telegraph in the airport. I read he's now in trouble with the Attorney General.''
''She was only just eighteen. He avoided a prison sentence by a couple of weeks. Now the Attorney General is threatening to prosecute him.''
''Well I don't see how he can unless his daughter is saying Josh forced her into something she didn't want to do.''
''No, she's not. She's saying how much she loves him.'' Harry noticed how beautiful Loren looked, classically beautiful. The way she presented herself, she could have been a Duchess, he thought. She was wearing a blue business skirt suit and a white blouse. Her dark hair was pinned up, giving her an appearance of authority as well as beauty. She was just the woman for this problem. A highly qualified psychologist who all the top Americans employed to sort out their
mental problems. She was thirty-five, ten years older than Josh. Old enough to command his respect, young enough to engage with him. ''He isn't going to be an easy client, Loren. He won't admit his behavior is out of control. He's really going to test you. You've got a week to get him to see the error of his ways.''
''You should see some of the egotistical basket cases I deal with back in the states. A week is more than enough. When can I meet him?''
''I told him we'd stop by his place after lunch.''
*****
''Hi Mum, how are you,'' Josh asked on the hands-free phone he'd had installed in the sitting room at his London mansion.
''Better than you if the news is to be believed,'' she replied.
Josh's mum was forty-one, the mother of six children and three times married. Josh was her oldest child by her first husband. She was born on a Manchester council estate and lived there until Josh bought her a four bedroom detached house in the best part of town.
''Just a storm in tea cup, mum. Can't stop a man having a bit of fun.'' He threw the play station remote at the TV when the gruesome character he was fighting killed him.
''You be careful my love. She was young. You know what happens to men who have sex with young girls. They get it up the ass in prison.''
''How's the family? I miss you all you know. It's fucking murder here in London on my own.''
''How about all those girls I see you in the papers? Why don't you settle down with one of them.''
''Slags all of them, mum. All the women down here in London are good for is fucking.''
''Jesus, Josh. That's the way your dad used to talk. Don't let your sisters hear you saying stuff like that, or your female fans.''
''Well it's true. Northern birds are much nicer. Down to earth. Here they're all upper-class bitches.''
''Why don't your come and see us, Josh. All your old mates have been asking after you. I'll cook you your favorite roast, and we can go to the social club and have a few beers.''
''I can't mum. My life has changed now, forever. I can't go to the places I used to. Not without a bodyguard.''